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sillylilsquid · 4 months ago

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𝕺𝖋𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖉

♥︎summary: In the neon lights of a city that never sleeps, you find solace in music–especially in the raw, soul-baring lyrics of rising rapper Thanos. When a chance encounter at one of his underground shows pulls you into his world, you discover the man behind the mic is more than just a voice–he’s a storm of passion, pain, and secrets. What starts as an undeniable connection quickly spirals into something deeper, something dangerous–especially when Thanos begins pushing you away just as fast as he pulls you in. But when his past comes back to haunt him, and you find him at his lowest, the lines blur between artist and muse, between escape and something real. In a world where music tells the truth better than words ever could, can love be enough to save a man who doesn’t believe he deserves it?

♥︎trigger warnings: au, no squid game. gn!reader(plz lmk if there are any mentions that would say otherwise), sexual themes, brief descriptions addiction and attempted suicide, oc thanos. minors dni!! 18+

♥︎a/n: 7.8k words. purple text is thanos, pink text is you.

The city was alive with sound–the hum of traffic, the distant rumble of bass from cars, and the collective heartbeats of people hustling through their day. The streets were lined with tall buildings and neon lights, a testament to a world that never stopped. And in this world, you were just another person trying to find your way, your place in a crowd that seemed too loud, too fast for someone like you.

But there was one thing you had always been certain about. One thing that was always there for you when nothing or no one else was–your love for music.

Music had always been your escape. Metal and rap, your two favorites. You spent hours listening to new tracks, analyzing the lyrics, the flow, the emotion. All the raw emotion the artists put out for everyone to hear. You had really grown to like finding local artists, rising stars in the music scene. And one rapper in particular had caught your attention–Thanos. He wasn’t just any rapper; his lyrics were raw, personal, and carried a weight you hadn’t felt from anyone else. As if he was sharing the same experiences as you. He wasn’t just speaking to his audience; he was speaking to you.

One lonely Saturday night you found yourself in the crowd at one of his shows. The venue was intimate–just a small club with dim lights and graffiti-covered walls. People crammed in like sardines. It was dark, dingy and smelled of alcohol and weed. But places like these were your favorite. They were intimate. Allowed you to experience the music at a more personal level.

You were used to seeing him on social media, but being in the same room as him, feeling the beat of the music vibrate through your chest, was an entirely different experience. Your heart raced as you stood in the front row, your eyes fixed on the stage. His presence demanded people not to tear their eyes away from him. The way he jumped around, never seeming to run out of breath or energy.

Thanos was performing his newest single, his voice smooth and commanding, effortlessly flowing with the beat. The crowd was lost in the rhythm, you almost forgot about the other bodies pressed up against yours. Your eyes never left him. There was something magnetic about the way he commanded the stage, but there was also something in his eyes–a hint of vulnerability that didn’t quite match the tough persona he projected.

As the song ended, the lights dimmed briefly, and the crowd’s roar filled the room. You stayed glued in your spot. The crowd began to die down as people left to use the bathroom or get another drink. You had turned to look around the club, admiring the posters and art amongst the walls. Your body still buzzed from the music, when suddenly, a familiar sounding voice spoke from behind you.

“Yo, you’re one of the few that actually knows every word,” the voice said, low and smooth.

You turned, startled, and there he was–Thanos, kneeling down on the stage in front of you, his intense gaze locked onto yours. He was closer than you had expected, close enough to see the sweat glistening on his forehead and the way his tattoos spread across every inch of his skin. The way his in-ears were dangling around his neck now. The realization that he was speaking to you made your heart skip a beat.

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, your cheeks flushed. “I…I’ve been listening to your stuff for a while.”

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I can tell. You’re not just here for the hype. You really get it.” His voice had a calm, deep quality, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t expected. It was almost as if he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. But surely not, right?

“I–thank you,” you managed to say, still in awe of how effortlessly he carried himself. “I love your music. It’s…it’s different.”

“Different, huh?” Thanos leaned in slightly, his expression thoughtful. An eyebrow cocked up at your words. “I like that. People usually think I’m all about the hard stuff, you know? But there’s more beneath the surface.” He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “What’s your name?”

You told him, your voice shaking a little as you tried to compose yourself.

He repeated your name back to you, the word rolling off his tongue. Testing it as if savoring the sound. “Nice to meet you, senorita. You seem like someone who understands what I’m trying to say. Most only hear the words, but you…you feel the rhythm in a way that’s rare.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. His words hit deeper than you expected, and the connection between you two felt instantaneous–almost too real for the moment. Maybe it was because you knew how his newest song spoke of his struggle with addiction, or how one of them mentioned a suicide attempt. Things you knew other people didn’t pick up on, but things you were too familiar with.

“Yeah, I think I get it,” you said quietly, your eyes not leaving his. You didn’t know why, but in that moment, you felt seen, understood in a way that was rare for you. “Your lyrics–they speak to me. It’s like you’re telling my story.”

Thanos’ expression softened for a moment. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I rap for people who feel like their voices are too quiet to be heard. I want to make sure no one feels like they’re alone in this world, even if it’s just for a few minutes when the beat drops.”

His words hit you like a wave. It was the kind of thing you had always hoped someone would understand, but you never expected him–someone who was slowly becoming a household name–to be the one who spoke to them.

Before you could say anything more, the club manager approached, signaling that the set was over. “Yo, Thanos, time to wrap it up. Gotta switch the stage over for the next group,” the manager said.

Thanos gave a quick nod and then turned his attention back to you. “You should stick around,” he said casually. “I’m not done for the night. And I think we should talk more.”

Your heart pounded. “Talk more?”

He shrugged, a confident yet almost shy smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. I'm not always on stage, ya know? But I'm still the same guy behind the mic.”

Your mind raced, and you could barely process what was happening. Thanos–the rapper you admired, the one whose lyrics had kept you grounded through your darkest moments–wanted to talk to you. He wasn’t just some up and coming star ignoring his fans. He was genuinely interested in you.

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. “I’d like that.”

He smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Good. Let’s see if we can make some magic happen off stage, too.”

As the crowd began to fill back up, you found yourself walking with him towards the back of the venue, where the night was only beginning, the world outside felt distant, as if it didn’t matter anymore. For the first time, you weren’t just a fan looking up at a star–you were someone Thanos, the artist who shaped your world, wanted to connect with.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

As you followed Thanos through the dimly lit corridors of the venue, the pulsing bass from the next act faded into the background. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, stale beer, and something unspoken–an anticipation that clung to your skin like static.

He led you past a heavy black curtain, stepping into a quieter backstage area. Somewhere you were surprised even existed with how small the club was. The contrast was jarring–the chaotic energy of the club melted into a space that felt almost intimate, despite the occasional crew member rushing past. A single worn-out couch sat against the graffiti-covered wall, and a small table was cluttered with half-empty water bottles, beer cans, and a pack of cigarettes.

Thanos grabbed a towel from a nearby chair, running it over the back of his neck before tossing it aside. Then, with the same lazy confidence, he gestured for you to sit.

“So,” he started, leaning against the wall, his dark eyes studying you with quiet curiosity. “You ever write?”

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“Lyrics,” he clarified, crossing his arms. “Or poetry. Something.”

You hesitated. It was something you had always kept to yourself–scribbled verses in the margins of notebooks, or hidden in your favorite journal. Thoughts too raw to share with anyone else.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “But nothing serious.”

Thanos smirked, but there was no teasing in it, just an understanding. “That’s how it starts,” he said, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off a weight only he could feel. “I used to do the same. Thought no one would care what I had to say.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

The weight of his words settled between you. It was easy to forget, watching him on stage, that there was a person beneath the bravado. Someone who had once been just as unsure, just as lost in the noise of the world.

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted.

“Yo, Thanos,” a man in a hoodie poked his head into the room, his gaze flickering between the two of you. You recognized him from Thanos’ Instagrams posts. His friend, Nam Gyu. “They’re asking for you outside.”

Thanos’ jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his expression remained unreadable. “Who?”

Nam Gyu hesitated. “Let’s just say…the kind of people you don’t keep waiting.”

For the first time tonight, you saw something shift in Thanos. The ease in his stance hardened into something sharper, more cautious. He exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw before nodding.

“Aight,” he muttered. Then, as if remembering you were still there, he turned back to you. “You good to wait here for a bit?”

There was something unspoken in his tone, a flicker of warning in his eyes. He didn’t want you to follow.

Something about the way Nam Gyu had phrased it– “the kind of people you don’t keep waiting”–sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Sure.”

Thanos studied you for a second longer, then, with one last nod, pushed past his friend and disappeared down the hallway.

You sat there, the silence creeping back in, but your mind was racing.

Who was waiting for him? And why did it feel like, for all his confidence, Thanos wasn’t entirely in control of whatever was happening outside?

Maybe, just maybe, you were stepping into something much bigger than a backstage conversation.

The minutes stretched on, the distant thump of the bass was the only thing filling the silence. You tried to sit still, but your fingers drummed anxiously against your knee. Something about the way Thanos had left–it wasn’t just a casual meeting. Whoever was waiting for him, they weren’t just fans or industry people.

You glanced at the doorway, debating whether to stay put like he asked.

Then, a muffled voice. Raised. Firm.

Thanos.

Your heart jumped.

You stood, creeping toward the hallway. The club was a maze of narrow corridors, dimly lit and lined with peeling posters. The voices grew clearer as you approached a side door left slightly ajar, leading to the alley behind the venue.

Thanos was standing with his back to you, his broad shoulders squared. Three men stood in front of him, their expressions unreadable beneath the flickering streetlight. They weren’t dressed like fans, or even label reps. Their clothes were clean but understated–black jackets, dark jeans, the kind of people who blended in but carried an unshakable presence.

One of them, a man with slicked-back hair, spoke first.

“You’re late.”

Thanos exhaled sharply, his head tilting in a way that almost looked amused. “I was busy.”

The man didn’t smile. “That’s not how this works.”

There was a beat of silence, the air between them heavy with tension.

You pressed yourself against the wall, suddenly unsure if you should be witnessing this.

Then the man reached into his pocket.

You didn’t see a weapon–just a small slip of paper, folded neatly. He held it out to Thanos, who stared at it for a long moment before snatching it from his hand.

“You know the deadline,” the man said coolly. “Don’t make us come looking for you again.”

Thanos clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the paper. He didn’t respond.

The three men turned and disappeared into the night, their footsteps echoing down the alley.

For a long moment, Thanos stood there, unmoving.

Then, slowly, he unfolded the slip of paper. Even from where you stood, you could see his body tense. His fingers crumpled the note slightly before he shoved it into his pocket, exhaling sharply.

That’s when he turned–and saw you.

His eyes locked onto yours, unreadable in the dim light.

You froze, unsure if you had just crossed some invisible line.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

You swallowed, your heart hammering. “Who were they?”

He hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to tell you.

Then, in a voice lower than before, he said, “Nobody you need to worry about.”

He started toward you, and for the second time, you noticed the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers still curled slightly like he was trying to shake something off.

But when he reached you, his gaze softened–just a little.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he murmured. “Come on.”

He didn’t say another word as he led you back inside, but something had shifted. Whatever world Thanos lived in outside of his music, you had just gotten a glimpse of it.

And somehow, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

It had been two weeks since that night behind the venue. Two weeks since you saw the note, since those men made it clear that Thanos had someone watching him.

And yet, he hadn’t told you a thing about it.

Not that things between you hadn’t changed. If anything, they’d only gotten closer.

It started with late-night texts. Not just about music, but about everything.

what’s ur take on old-school hip-hop? like 90s nas and biggie type?

timeless. if you disagree, we are fighting

lmafo, alright. i’ll keep my mouth shut 🤐

wait… don’t tell me u don’t like biggie!!??🤨

nah, i do. but i like pac more

okay okay ur forgiven

Then came the studio visits.

It started with an invitation–casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. Pull up to the studio if you want. Bring snacks.

The first time, you were nervous. Watching him rap live was one thing, but watching him work? That was something else.

You didn’t expect him to be so meticulous. He ran the same verse over and over, tweaking every word, every pause, until it felt right. When he finally got it down, he turned to you, expectant.

“Well?”

You had stared at him, wide-eyed. “You want my opinion?”

He smirked. “Why wouldn’t I?

That was the moment you realized–he actually cared what you thought.

And now?

Now you were here again, perched on the studio couch, your legs tucked beneath you as Thanos stood in the booth, headphones over his ears, voice smooth as he ran through a new track.

Something about this song felt different. Darker. More personal.

Your gaze flickered to the notebook on the table. His handwriting was sharp, fast–almost angry. You could only make out bits and pieces.

“Deadlines feel like nooses”

“Counting favors, counting days”

“Ain’t no peace when the devil wanna play”

You frowned. That line–it felt too real.

The beat faded, and Nam Gyu, who helped him record, gave him a thumbs-up. Thanos pulled off his headphones, rolling his shoulders before stepping out of the booth.

He flopped onto the couch beside you, exhaling deeply. “What’s the verdict?”

You hesitated. “It’s…heavy.”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “That a bad thing?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Just…it sounds personal.”

For a second, he didn’t respond. Then, with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he said, “All my shit’s personal.”

You wanted to push. To ask about the note, about the men in the alley. About what exactly he was counting days for.

But before you could, his phone buzzed.

His jaw tensed as he read the screen. Then, without a word, he stood up, grabbing his hoodie.

“I’ll be back.”

You sat up. “Thanos–”

He looked at you then, something flickering behind his dark eyes. “Stay here.”

And just like that, he was gone. Your chest tightened. This wasn’t just about music. Something was happening. And whether he liked it or not, you weren’t just going to sit and wait forever.

You waited exactly five minutes before grabbing your jacket and slipping out of the studio. Nam Gyu hadn’t noticed, his face was buried into the screen of his laptop.

Thanos told you to stay. But you weren’t great at following orders.

The streets outside were alive, neon lights flashing against the wet pavement. The night smelled like city smoke and rain, and every shadow felt heavier than it should have.

You followed instinct–plus the fact that Thanos wasn’t exactly subtle when he was in a hurry. A few blocks down, you spotted him.

He was standing on the sidewalk, hood up, back rigid. Across from him? A familiar figure. Slicked-back hair. The same guy from the alley. Your stomach tightened.

You ducked into a nearby doorway, pressing yourself into the shadows. You couldn’t hear everything over the hum of the rain, but you caught pieces.

“–not enough time.”

“–not my problem.”

“–you owe more than you think.”

Then, something quieter. Lower.

Thanos’ hands clenched into fists. His head dipped for a second, like he was bracing himself.

You took a step forward before you could stop yourself. And that’s when Thanos looked up–right at you. Your breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The man he was talking to turned slightly, following Thanos’ gaze, but before he could spot you, Thanos stepped closer to him, blocking his view.

“Don’t.” he said, voice sharp.

It wasn’t clear if he was talking to the guy–or to you.

Your heart pounded. You knew you should leave, that pushing further could make things worse, but something in Thanos’ expression stopped you.

He looked…tired.

Angry, sure. But underneath it, there was something else.

Something scared.

The conversation ended a few seconds later. The man clapped a hand on Thanos’ shoulder–mocking, maybe threatening–and disappeared into the night.

Thanos stood there, staring at the ground. Time seemed to stop in that moment. Then, slowly, he turned and walked toward you. Your pulse raced.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “You don’t get it.” “Then make me get it.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. “Is it money? Debt? Are you in trouble?”

The rain pounded down on the two of you, soaking your clothes and making you shiver,

Something flickered in his gaze. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “It’s always been trouble.”

A gust of wind blew between you, cold against your skin. Finally, Thanos sighed, shaking his head. “Come on. I’m walking you home.”

You wanted to argue. Wanted to push harder. But something told you that, for now, this was all he could give. So you let him walk beside you, the city buzzing around you both, the space between you thick with everything left unsaid.

The tension between you and Thanos hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had grown. Some nights, he barely spoke. Others, he’d sit beside you in the studio, close enough that his leg brushed against yours, his presence heavy but silent.

And then there were moments like this. You were both sitting on the rooftop of his apartment, staring out at the city skyline. He had been quiet tonight. More than usual.

You nudged his shoulder. “Tell me something real.”

He glanced at you, one brow raised. “What?”

You shrugged. “Something real. Not about music. Not about whatever mess you’re tangled up in. Just…something about you.”

Thanos stared at you for a long time. Then, finally, he said, “I don’t sleep much.”

You blinked. “Because of the music?”

“Because of the past.” His voice was softer now, like he wasn’t sure he should be telling you this.

Your chest tightened. Carefully, you reached out, fingers brushing against his. A test. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he exhaled, tilting his head back against the wall. “Your turn,” he muttered.

You hesitated, then said, “I haven’t felt like I belonged anywhere in a long time.”

His fingers twitched beneath yours. Then, after a beat, he turned his hand over–gripping yours, just for a second. It wasn’t much. But it was something. And somehow it felt like everything.

A few more weeks passed. You weren’t sure what you and Thanos were, but you know what you weren’t. You weren’t just another fan. You weren’t just a friend.

But whatever line existed between you two–it was blurring fast.

You could feel it in the way he looked at you. In the way he spoke softer when it was just the two of you. In the way his fingers sometimes lingered against yours, like he was testing something, waiting for a sign. And in the way he never let you too close. Not yet.

It was another night you had joined him at the recording studio. He always asked you to tag along, and you never declined.

Thanos was pacing. Frustrated. You were sitting on the couch, watching him.

He had been working on the same verse for over an hour, and something about it wasn’t right. You could see it in his body language–the clenched jaw, the way his shoulders tensed like he was carrying something too heavy.

Finally, he yanked his headphones off and cursed under his breath. You hesitated. “Wanna talk about it?” “No.” His voice was sharp, but not at you. Still, you stood up, stepping closer. “Okay. Then tell me what’s really wrong.” Thanos exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I told you, it’s nothing.” “Bullshit.”

He stopped. Turned to you, eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, suddenly, he stepped forward. Too close. Your breath hitched.

“You really wanna know?” he muttered. His voice was low, rough. You swallowed. “Yeah.”

His gaze dropped–to your lips, just for a second. Then, without warning, he laughed. A bitter sound. “You shouldn’t.”

That hurt more than it should have. Your spine straightened. “Why?” you questioned him.

His expression hardened.

“Because if you knew the kind of shit I’m in, you’d run.” Something inside you twisted.

You could run. You probably should run. But instead, you reached for his wrist. Just enough so he’d know you weren’t afraid. “I’m still here,” you whispered.

Thanos’ breath caught. His eyes searched yours, like he was looking for something–some kind of warning, some kind of reason to push you away. Then slowly, his fingers curled around yours. Not tight. Not possessive. Just holding.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small, sad smile. “Me neither.” But neither of you let go.

A few days later you hadn’t seen Thanos since that night at the studio. Not in person, anyway. He had sent a few texts–short, vague. You two were supposed to meet up to hang out that evening. But his last message broke your heart.

Got shit to handle. Don’t wait up.

Then silence. For two days.

The anxiety sat like a stone in your gut. You weren’t sure what scared you more–the fact that he was gone or the fact you felt his absence so strongly.

Then, late one night, your phone buzzed. A location ping. It wasn’t his apartment. It wasn’t the studio.

It was an abandoned bridge on the edge of the city. Your stomach dropped. You knew this place. You knew why this place mattered. The importance it held.

Thanos had told you once, in the quiet dark of a studio session gone too late, that there had been a night–one long, horrible night–when he had stood on that bridge’s edge, staring into the abyss below, wondering if anyone would miss him.

He hadn’t gone through with it. But that didn't mean he never thought about it. And now, he was there again. Your hands trembled as you grabbed your jacket and ran out the door.

You found him slumped against the rusted railing, hood up, cigarette barely lit between his tattooed fingers. Purple hair stuck to his forehead.

His knuckles were split. A cut ran along his cheekbone, dark and swollen. His lip was busted. And worst of all? His eyes. They were empty. Your heart ached as you stepped forward. “Thanos?”

He didn’t even look at you. Just exhaled smoke and muttered, “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Then why did you send me your location?”

Silence.

You stepped closer, the cold wind biting at your skin. “You told me once what this bridge meant to you,” you said carefully. “So don’t lie to me and say this is nothing.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Then why are you here?”

His fingers curled into a fist. He looked away, towards the drop below. Something inside you snapped.

You grabbed his wrist–not rough, just firm. “Don’t do this,” you whispered, voice raw. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever happened–I’m right here. Just talk to me.”

For a second, just a second, his eyes softened. Then, just as fast, his expression hardened again.

He yanked his hand away. “You can’t help,” he muttered. “You don’t belong in this world of mine.” You clenched your jaw. “Then why do you keep pulling me into it?”

His breath hitched, but he forced a cold laugh. “I didn’t ask you to come.” That stung. Your throat tightened, but you refused to let him see how much that hurt you.

You took a shaky step back. “Right. My mistake.”

You turned away before your voice could break, before he could see the way your face crumbled.

You had given him space. You had tried to understand. But this–this pushing–it hurt. But before you could walk away, a hand shot out, catching your wrist.

Your breath caught. You turned back, finding him looking at you like he regretted every word he just said. “...Don’t go,” he murmured.

Your chest ached. “Then stop pushing me away.” He exhaled sharply, eyes searching yours. Then, slowly–hesitantly–he tugged you down beside him.

You sat in silence for a moment, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist. As if he let go you would simply vanish into thin air. And then, softer this time, he whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Your heart clenched. You understood how he felt. You had been in his shoes before, too many times.

You shifted closer, carefully pressing your forehead against his. “Then let me show you.” His breath shuddered. And then, he kissed you. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate. Like he had been holding himself back for too long.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, fingers gripping like he was scared you would disappear. Your own hands slid into his hair, tugging, making him groan against your lips.

The tension that had been simmering for weeks finally boiled over. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the bruises. Not the fights. Just this. Just you and him.

The walk back was quiet. Not awkward. Just heavy. Thanos had barely spoken a word since you left the bridge. But he hadn’t let go of your hand, either.

Not in a romantic way–more like he was grounding himself, making sure you were still there. That you were real.

Now in the dim light of your apartment, you finally saw him clearly. The dried blood. The bruises darkening his cheek. The tension in his shoulders, like he was waiting for you to tell him to leave.

You didn’t. Instead, you grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink. He scoffed. “I’m fine.” You have him a look. Bullshit, you thought.

With a sigh, he sat on the couch, letting you kneel in front of him. You dipped a cotton pad in antiseptic and carefully dabbed at his cheek. He barely flinched.

“Wanna tell me who did this?” you asked softly.

He exhaled, eyes flickering away. “Just some unfinished business.”

You frowned. “Thanos–” “I handled it.” His voice was flat. “It’s over.”

You sighed, pressing the pad against a deeper cut on his brow. You were sure it would scar. “You keep saying that. But it never really is, is it?” His jaw clenched.

You knew you were pushing, but you couldn’t not. Not after tonight. Not after that damn bridge.

You set the first aid kit aside, meeting his gaze. “Talk to me,” you murmured. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. For a second you thought he’d shut down again. But then–his walls cracked. And the words came spilling out.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, voice rough. “I don’t know how to be anything else. This life–this fighting, this running–it’s all I’ve ever known. And every time I think I’m out, something drags me back in.”

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand down his face. “You wanna know the worst part? I let it happen. I tell myself I don’t have a choice, but maybe I do. Maybe I just don’t know who I am without all this shit.”

Your heart ached for him. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His grip was tight–he was afraid to let go.

“You’re not just the things that have happened to you,” you whispered. “And you don’t have to do this alone.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to drag you down with me.” You smiled softly. “Too late.” That startled a laugh out of him. A real one. Low, rough, but real. You squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Thanos.”

He looked at you then–really looked at you. And for the first time, there was no cocky smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. Just raw, unfiltered emotion.

“...You’re the only thing that feels real,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing that doesn’t feel like it’s slipping through my fingers.”

Your breath caught. The weight of his words settled deep in your chest. Slowly, cautiously, you leaned in–pressing your forehead against his. Just being there. His cold, inked fingers ghosted over your cheek, his touch hesitant, unsure.

“Stay,” you whispered. His breath hitched. “...Okay.” And just like that–he let himself fall. Not into chaos. Not into violence.

But into you.

Neither of you moved for a long time. The hum of the city outside your window filled the silence, but in here, it felt like the world had stopped. Just for the two of you.

Thanos hadn’t let go of your hand. Hadn’t pulled away. But he also hadn’t moved closer. Like he was still figuring out what the hell this was.

And you? You weren’t sure what scared you more–that he might leave, or that he might actually stay.

You cleared your throat, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you wanna crash here tonight?” His fingers twitched against yours.

A war played out in his eyes–some silent battle between wanting it and not trusting himself to have it. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I do.”

Something warm flickered in your chest. You squeezed his hand once before standing. “I’ll grab you some clothes.”

In your bedroom Thanos stood near the window, looking out into the city. You had tossed him a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie, but he had only changed out of his wet shirt so far, leaving him in just his jeans. The bruises on his torso were darker now, shadowed in the dim light of your room. His tattoos an even darker contrast to his soft skin.

He looked out of place here–like he wasn’t used to being in spaces this…safe.

“You can sit, ya’ know,” you teased lightly. His lips twitched. “Didn’t want to mess up your bed.” You rolled your eyes and tugged his wrist, pulling him towards the mattress. “It’s a bed! That’s literally what it’s for.”

A small chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he let you pull him down. You sat cross-legged beside him, heart hammering in your ribs. The bed dipped under his weight, bringing him so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you had to. But the air between you was thick. Charged. His fingers flexed against the sheets, knuckles brushing yours.You glanced up at him–and froze.

Because his eyes were already on you.

Not in that usual, cocky, teasing way. No. This was something else. Something raw. Something that made your breathing stop.

“...Why do you care so much?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched. “Because I see you,” you whispered back. “And I know what it’s like to feel like no one else does.”

His jaw tensed, like your words physically hit him. And then–so slowly, so hesitantly–he reached up. His fingers ghosted over your jaw, trailing so lightly it sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed. Hard.

“Thanos…” He exhaled, fingers moving to your chin, tilting your face just slightly.

Your breath mingled with his. Your lips were so close–But he stopped.

Like he wasn’t sure if he had the right. Like he wasn’t sure if he deserved this. Your pulse pounded.

So, you made the choice for him. You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his–soft, hesitant, testing.

His breath hitched. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t hesitant anymore.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, needy, desperate. His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer–like he had been holding back for far too long and finally, finally let himself have this.

Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his bare skin. His heart was racing–just like yours.

But then–he pulled back. Abruptly. His chest heaved, lips parted, eyes dark. “...I shouldn’t,” he rasped. Your heart plummeted. “What?” His fingers curled into fists. “You don’t deserve this. Me.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “You don’t get to decide that for me.” His eyes flashed–with frustration, with longing, with something he couldn’t put into words.

Then, without another word, he stood. Your stomach dropped. Watching as he pulled on the hoodie you had provided for him.

“Thanos–” “I need air,” he spat, running a hand through his hair. “I just–” he exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ll be back.”

And then, just like that, he walked out. Leaving you alone. Leaving your lips still tingling from his kiss. Leaving your chest aching with something you couldn’t name.

Thanos lied. He didn’t come back that night. In fact you hadn’t heard from him at all.

Not a single call. Not a single text. Nothing.

You told yourself you weren’t waiting. That it didn’t matter. That if Thanos wanted to disappear, fine. Let him.

But it was a lie.

Because every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped. Every time you heard footsteps near your door, your stomach flipped. Every time the city lights flickered outside your window, you wondered if he was out there, in the dark, thinking about you.

And the worst part? You could still feel the ghost of his lips against yours. It was driving you insane.

So you did what you always did when your mind got too loud–you blasted music. Drowned in the bass, let the lyrics be a distraction. But even that wasn’t enough. Because nothing could drown out the memory of him.

Your clock read 12:12am. That’s when you heard it. A sharp knock at your door shattered the silence. You froze. No one came over this late. Never.

Your heart hammered as you stood, feet carrying you toward the door before your brain could catch up.

Another knock–harder, more desperate. And then– His voice. “...It’s me.”

Your breath halted. Hands shaking, you unlocked the door.

And there he was. Thanos. Soaked from the rain. Breathless. Eyes dark, intense–like something inside him had finally snapped.

You swallowed. “You–” “I couldn't stay away,” he rasped. His voice was wrecked. Like he had been fighting himself for two days straight and lost.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “You left.” “I know.” He clenched his jaw. “I shouldn’t have.”

You should have been angry. You wanted to be angry. But all you could focus on was the way his chest heaved, the way his fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back. Like he was seconds away from breaking.

You stepped back, leaving the door open. A silent invitation. And he didn’t hesitate. The second the door shut, Thanos moved. No more hesitation. No more running. He grabbed you.

One hand at your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck–desperate, feverish, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

Then his lips crashed onto yours. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant.

It was messy, raw, full of every bottled-up feeling he had tried to ignore.

You gasped, fingers tangling in his damp shirt, pulling him closer, closer–until there was nothing between you.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he pressed you against the nearest wall, lips trialing from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck. “I tried to stay away,” he murmured against your skin, voice hoarse. “I swore I wouldn’t do this.”

Your head tilted back, giving him more access. “Then why are you here?” His teeth grazed your pulse point, making you shudder. “Because I can’t fucking help myself.”

Thanos had you trapped against the wall. His breath was hot against your skin.

His hands possessive, gripping your waist, your hip, fingers digging in because he was so scared to let go.

Your name left his lips in a rough whisper before he kissed you again–deeper, slower this time. Less rushed, more intentional. You melted into him.

God, the way he kissed–like he wanted to devour you, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him–

And then–The shrill ringing of his phone broke through the room. Blaring in the silence. Thanos froze.

His lips still brushed against yours, his body still pressing you into the wall–but you felt it. The instant shift in his mood.

You barely had time to process before he snapped back, jaw clenched. The phone kept ringing. He pulled it out his pocket, glanced at the name on the screen. His whole body tensed. Your stomach sank.

“Who is it?” Your voice came out too quiet. Thanos exhaled sharply. His thumb hovered over the screen. You saw the hesitation in his eyes–then, with a muttered curse, he declined the call.

Silence. Then, after a beat–“I need to handle something.” It was like getting shoved back into reality.

You stared at him. “You’re leaving again?” Of course he would. You couldn’t be so stupid to think he had changed any in the past couple days of no contact.

“No,” he said quickly. “I just–” he ran a hand over his face. Clearly exhausted and fighting with himself over what to do. “I’ll be back. I just need to deal with some shit.”

Your heart shattered. “That’s what you said last time.”

He flinched. For a second, you thought he might actually stay. That he’d say something real, something honest. For once.

But instead–“I’ll come back,” he promised.And just like that, he was gone.

You didn’t expect him to come back the same night. But two hours later–just as you were about to give up on him yet again–your door slammed open. You had remained in your bed, heart racing as you listened to his heavy footsteps.

And there he was. Thanos. Chest heaving. Panting. Eyes dark, hungry. Like he had been burning for you since the moment he walked away.

You barely had time to react before he was on you. A rough hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as his lips crashed onto yours–possessive, needy, like he was making up for every second he wasted.

You gasped against his mouth, gripping his jacket, yanking him closer, letting him press you against the mattress.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your lips. Your head spun, “Prove it.” And oh, did he.

His jacket hit the floor. His hands found your waist, sliding under your shirt, fingers skimming hot against your skin. Your body arched into him–desperate, aching.

But he wasn’t in a rush. No, this was punishment. For every second he spent pretending he didn’t want you. For every time he pushed you away when all he wanted was this.

“You think I don’t feel it?” he murmured, lips trailing down your jaw then neck. “The way you look at me? The way I can’t fucking breathe when you’re near me?”

You whimpered as his teeth grazed your pulse, his hands gripping your hips, pinning you against him.

“You ruined me, princesa.” His voice was thick, rough, dripping with something dangerous.

You shivered. “Good.” His control snapped. And then–Heat. Desperation. Mouths colliding, hands everywhere, bodies pressed too close, but still not not close enough.

And thanos? He was ravenous. Every touch, every kiss, every rough grip on your hips was a silent confession.

And tonight? He wasn’t holding back anymore. His hands were everywhere.

Rough palms sliding under your shirt, fingertips tracing fire along your spine. His lips claimed yours with a hunger that left you breathless, gasping against him.

Thanos wasn’t just kissing you. He was consuming you. Like he had been starving for this. For you.

Your fingers tangled in his faded purple hair, and he groaned–low, deep, something shot straight through your core.

“Fuck,” he rasped, dragging his lips back down your throat. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Your breath hitched, his teeth nipping at your skin. “Then don’t stop.”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “Wasn’t planning to, princesa.” And then came the sound of ripping fabric.

You gasped as your shirt hit the floor, followed by his–his heat pressing into you, skin to skin, muscles tense beneath your fingertips.

Thanos devoured you with his gaze, his dark eyes trailing over every inch of exposed skin. His breath was ragged, jaw tight–like he was barely holding himself together.

But then he touched you. Fingertips tracing slow, torturous patterns down your sides, his mouth following the path of his tattooed hands. And you melted.

“Look at you,” he whispered against your skin. “So fucking beautiful.”

You whimpered as he pinned you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress, solid, inescapable. His hands gripped your thighs, parting them, his breath hot against your stomach.

Then his lips trailed lower. Lower. Lower.

Your body arched off the bed as heat exploded through your veins, pleasure pooling deep as his mouth worked wonders.

Thanos, well he devoured you. Like you were his last meal.

Every whimper, every shuddering breath, every time your fingers tightened in his hair–he took it like a man starved. Like he wouldn’t stop until you were completely wrecked beneath him.

And when he finally came back up, his lips slick, sinful, his gaze heavy-lidded and dark, he smirked. “Not done with you yet, princesa.” And then? Oh, then he really showed you just how much he’d been holding back.

The city hadn’t changed. The neon lights still flickered, the streets still pulsed with life, and the music still played loud enough to shake the walls. But you had changed. So had Thanos. He hadn’t left again–not like before.

After that night, something shifted between you two. He stopped running. Stopped shutting you out. Instead, he was there. In your bed. In your space. In your life. But it wasn’t perfect.

Some nights, he still got quiet. Still carried the weight of the past like chains around his wrists. Still fought demons he didn’t know how to exorcise.

But now–now, he let you see it. And more than that–he let you stay.

The apartment was quiet, except for the low hum of music playing from the speaker. This weekend was full of shows for Thanos. You were excited to attend every one of them.

You sat on the couch, knees tucked to your chest, watching as Thanos scribbled into a battered notebook. Lyrics. You could tell from the way his lips moved slightly as he wrote, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Writing about me?” you teased, leaning back against the cushions. His lips quirked. “Maybe.” You raised an eyebrow. “What’s it say?”

He hesitated for a beat, then tore the paper out, folding it in half. He stood, crossing the room, and placed it in your lap. You unfolded it slowly, heart picking up speed.

“You make me feel like I deserve more than just the pain”

Your breath caught. When you looked up, he was watching you, something raw and unguarded in his gaze. “Do you?” you asked softly. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “What?”

“Do you think you deserve more?” Silence stretched between you. Heavy. Thick.

And then he exhaled sharply, running a large hand down his face. “I don’t know.” His voice was rough. Honest. “But I know I want it. With you.”

Your heart clenched. For the first time, he wasn’t just saying what he thought he should say. He was telling the truth.

You stood slowly, closing the distance between you. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wasn’t sure if he should pull you in or let you go. So you made the choice for him.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. And after a brief moment his arms tightened around you, his face pressing into your hair.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” he murmured into your hair. You smiled softly. “We’ll figure it out.” He sighed, his hold on you unwavering. And in that moment, you knew–he wasn’t going anywhere. No more running. Not this time.

♥︎a/n: hope you enjoyed!! work has been super busy, but i am hoping to write more this weekend to post <3

#squid game imagines #squid game #squid game x y/n #alternate universe #thanos x y/n #thanos imagine #thanos smut #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #player 230 x reader #player 230 #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #choi seunghyun #t.o.p x reader #t.o.p #squid game fanfic

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mysticalmallard · 1 year ago

Text

Flower Crowns

🦆: Finally finished I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it

Pairing: Happy Lowman x OC (Katherine Morrow)

Warnings: A few swear words nothing else I think let me know.

Word count: 4,203

♥︎ MainMasterlist ♥︎

Happy, standing amongst the other bikers of the club, surveyed the event with curiosity. As he looked at the various activities set up for the children, he spotted a flower crown making booth led by a young woman. She was helping the children make their own crowns, while teaching them about flowers in the garden. Her soft and nurturing nature seemed to draw all the children to her, her delicate features and light brown wavy hair adding an air of gentleness to her presence.

Intrigued, Happy couldn't help but take note of her. He had heard of her from the other members of the club, knowing she was the daughter of the club's president and sister to the VP. Her reputation for kindness and gentleness, contrasting with the rough and tough world of the Sons of Anarchy.

Unable to look away, he continued to observe her. He noticed the way she smiled softly at the children as they crafted their flower crowns. Her delicate hands gently guided them to weave the stems. There was a certain purity in her actions, a innocence that seemed untouched by the darkness of the club.

Sensing someone approaching behind him, Happy spoke without looking. Back.

"Shouldn't you be at your booth Bobby? Gemma will castrate you if u bail on another event brother"

"I'm on a break man get off my balls" Bobby replies

Happy chuckled as he turned to face Bobby, a smirk on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest as he replied

"A break, huh? More like avoiding responsibility as usual."

He teased Bobby, knowing all too well that he had a fondness for shrugging off his duties whenever he could.

Bobby rolled his eyes but couldn't help but grin. He knew that Happy was right, he had a reputation for avoiding work whenever possible.

"Hey, I'm entitled to a break every now and then, brother. Can't be on duty 24/7." He retorted.

Happy let out a smirk, enjoying the playful banter with his brother. He shook his head in amusement, knowing all too well that Bobby's excuse was as weak as his excuse to skip out on church.

"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Bro. We both know you'd rather spend your time chasing women than doing your job."

Bobby feigned offense at Happy's comment, his hand going to his chest in mock hurt. He was well known for his love life.

"Hey, man, I'm just a man with...certain needs. Can't blame a guy for having some fun, can you?" He replied, a sly grin on his face.

Happy gave a hearty chuckle, finding amusement in Bobby's feeble attempts to defend himself. He knew all too well that Bobby had a wandering eye and a reputation for being a ladies' man.

"Yeah, just keep telling yourself it's all about your 'needs'. We all know you're just looking for the next woman willing to keep you warm at night."

Bobby let out a mock gasp, pretending to be offended but unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Hey, I'll have you know that I'm a romantic, brother. Not my fault these women just can't handle all of this" gesturing to himself.

Just then Gemma approaches "Hey Bobby Elvis!! There are kids wanting to take photos with you get your butt back to your booth or my boot is going up your ass"

Bobby chuckled and held up his hands defensively.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Jeez, Gem, I was on my break!" He jokingly protested but knew better than to argue with Gemma. He shot another playful glance at Happy before heading back to his booth.

Happy snickered as he watched Bobby leave, amused by the way Gemma could always crack the whip. He had always admired her no-nonsense attitude and the way she kept the club in check.

"Hey Hap, have you seen the prospect around?? Katherine needs some more flowers from the van, but she can't leave the booth, and I ain't carrying them boxes in this heat"

Happy raised an eyebrow at the mention of Katherine's name. He had yet to have the chance to meet her properly.

"No, I ain't seen him for a while Gem"

"Clay better not have sent Half Sack off somewhere I need him later to tidy up.... You wouldn't mind getting them, would you?"

Happy shrugged and nodded. He wasn't about to decline a chance to get closer to the source of his curiosity.

"No problem, I can grab 'em for you. Where's the van parked?"

"Great, it's just round the back, its the only one that says florist on it you cant miss it" Gemma says, handing him the keys. "And don't drop any of them. Katherine wants them all looking perfect for the kids" she adds heading back in the direction of her chilli booth.

Happy took the keys from Gemma with a sharp nod, knowing better than to upset Gemma.

"No worries, Gem. I'll handle 'em with care."

He reassured her as he headed towards the back to find the van.

As Happy approached the van, his eyes scanned the area, taking note of any potential threats. The club's security was always on high alert, especially during events like these. Satisfied that there was nothing out of the ordinary, he unlocked the van and climbed inside.

He rummaged through the back, looking for the boxes of flowers that Gemma had mentioned. Finally, he spotted them, carefully stacked among various gardening supplies. He hoisted the boxes with ease, their weight insignificant to his muscular frame.

With the boxes in his arms, he closed the van door and started making his way back towards the community centre. As he walked, he couldn't help but think about the woman he was about to meet. When he had heard about Katherine from Gemma and the others, she was always described as kind and soft-hearted. It was refreshing to hear about someone untouched by the club's violent nature and he was curious to what she was like.

As he turned the corner, he caught his first glimpse of her working at the flower crown booth, her delicate features focused on the task at hand. His steps quickened as he approached her.

His heavy steps caught Katherine's attention, and she turned breaking out in a greatful smile, ready to thank whoever her mother managed to rope into helping.

When she locked eyes with Happy he got distracted. So distracted he stopped looking where he was stepping and didn't see the curb...

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Happy shouted as he lost his footing falling forward landing on the boxes crushing all the flowers stacked neatly inside. Definitely not the ideal first impression he wanted to make.

Katherine gasped as she watched Happy stumble and crash into the boxes of flowers, the colorful petals scattering everywhere like a colorful explosion. She quickly rushed over to him, concern etched on her face.

"Oh my goodness, are you okay?!"

She knelt down beside him, worry in her eyes as she looked over his condition. Her attention briefly shifted to the ruined boxes and the crushed flowers, but her main priority was making sure he was alright.

Happy grunted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration as he sat up, nursing a slight bruise from the fall. He looked at the mess of flowers around him, a hint of guilt on his face.

"Ah, shit..." he muttered. "Gemma's gonna kill me for this."

The surrounding bikers couldn't help but burst out laughing at the scene. Seeing big, tough Happy fumble like that was not something they saw every day. Tig, Chibs, Juice, and Opie approached, all wearing grins on their faces.

"Dude, that was graceful." Tig snickered, teasing Happy like any good friend would.

Chibs chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Yeah, really graceful, mate. Smooth as silk."

Juice just shrugged, trying to suppress his own laughter while Opie smirked, clearly enjoying the moment.

Happy shot daggers at his brothers, clearly not amused by their teasing. He pushed himself up, dusted off his jeans, and tried to salvage what little dignity he had left.

He looked back at Katherine, who was still looking at him with a mix of concern and amusement in her eyes. He could tell that she wasn't judging him, but still, he felt embarrassed at his clumsy entrance.

"Uh shit, sorry about that," he muttered vaguely gesturing to the boxes.

"it's okay, it was just an accident. I'm sure some are still salvageable, and if not, I can just turn them into potpourri" Katherine replies kindly

Her soft voice and gentle smile helped to ease his embarrassment a bit. He shot another glare at his club mates, who were still chuckling in the background, before turning back to her.

"Yeah, sorry about making such a mess... I, uh..." he trailed off, not sure what else to say.

"Hey miss, can you help me? I can't get this daisy to stick on." One of the little girls from the booth called over.

"Sure sweetheart i'll be there in a minute ive just gotta tidy something up first" Katherine called back starting to collect the scattered flowers into one of the less damaged box.

Happy watched as the little girl asked for help, and seeing Katherine starting to gather the scattered flowers into one of the less damaged boxes.

He stepped forward, feeling the need to help after causing such a mess. Happy moved with a surprising gentleness as he collected the delicate petals.

The others also joined in, their rough exterior contradicting their careful handling of the flowers. Opie helped separate the still-intact plants from the damaged ones, while Tig and Chibs gathered the more salvageable blossoms.

Soon, the mess was cleared, and the club members stood around the now semi-organized boxes of flowers, looking a bit out of their element in the flower-filled environment.

Katherine's giggle caught Happys attention he noticed it was directed at him.

"What are you laughing at girl?" He gruffly asked.

"Sorry its just...erm..here let me just..." She reaches over and plucks a bright yellow daisy which somehow latched onto one of his patches.

Happy froze, his rough exterior cracking for a moment as he watched Katherine reach over and pluck the daisy from his patch. He hadn't even realized it had landed there, blending almost perfectly with his dark clothing.

"Uh, thanks," he mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed at the unexpected move. "I'm not exactly the flower type, you know."

"Well I better head back to my booth before the kids start a revolt." Katherine says starting to reach for some of the boxes but the guys step in picking them up first Happy a little quicker than the others.

"Aye lead the way love well offer back up if the little shits decide to act up" Chibs heartily stated.

Katherine smiled gratefully as the Sons picked up the boxes, led by Happy. They followed her back to the flower crown booth, their presence overshadowing the delicate and peaceful atmosphere.

When they arrived, the children looked up in awe at the intimidating bikers carrying colorful boxes of flowers. Some looked a bit intimidated, but others seemed excited to have the tough bikers join the activity.

One little girl hands Opie her crown "can u fix this for me please? It keeps falling apart"

"Erm I don't know but I can try..."

"Thankyou" the girl answers cheerily

Eventually all the members start helping making the crowns some enjoying it not that they would ever admit it though

Happy chuckled as he observed the club members struggling with the flower crowns. It was a sight to see them, these tough bikers usually found in a bar or boxing ring, now carefully weaving daisies and baby's breath into delicate works of art. Opie in particular looked like he was enjoying himself way too much, while Chibs kept grumbling about "girly crap".

None of them noticed some of the parent approaching worriedly seeing their little kids surrounded by the bikers. They were fine with them being around but they didn't like the idea of them being around their kids.

As the parents started approaching, concern etched on their faces, Happy caught sight of them. He knew what they were thinking, that he and the other bikers were a threat to the little ones. Even though they were very wrong, all of them would jump in front of bullets for any kid, but he understood the club has brought alot of trouble to Charming.

The atmosphere changed as the parents started to pull their kids away. Happy felt a pang of frustration, knowing that their reputation was working against them. He looked over at Katherine, noticing her crestfallen expression as the booth once filled with laughter and joy was now deserted.

The other members also noticed the parents' reaction, their faces falling as the children were being taken away. They all knew how they appeared to outsiders, with their tattoos, rugged appearance, and overall intimidating aura. It stung a bit, but they were used to it.

Chibs approached Katherine, trying to offer some solace.

"Hey, don't worry about it, sweetheart. They're just scared of what they don't understand."

"Yeah, believe me, I know being the daughter to the scary biker gang president. I'm used to it, dont worry," she replies, trying to sound indifferent, but everyone at the table hears the sadness hidden in her words.

The guys exchanged glances, understanding the underlying pain in her voice. They knew all too well that their lifestyle had consequences, and in this case, it was affecting the daughter of their president.

Happy clenched his jaw, feeling a mix of frustration and guilt. He looked at Katherine, her dejected expression tugging at his heart.

After a long pause Katherine clears her thoat and speaks up "...would you guys mind helping me tidy up may as well start packing up now"

The guys started to slowly pack away the booth she spent days preparing and planning for the kids

"Hey er what's this flower called again?" Juice asked picking up the closest flower to him trying to distract her

Katherine looked up from packing away some supplies and observed Juice holding the flower. She chuckled, appreciative of his attempt to distract her.

"That's a snapdragon," she replied with a small smile. "It's known for its unique shape that resembles a dragon's head. You see, the flower opens and closes its mouth as it dries." she replies a spark of joy returning to her eyes talking about her favourite subject.

"Really?..huh cool. Does it have a meaning like the different roses do?" Juice asked inspecting the plant closer.

Katherine nodded, appreciating his interest. "Yes, it does. Snapdragons represent grace, strength, and resilience. They are often used to signify hidden feelings and can be given to someone as a way of saying "I'll try to understand your unspoken thoughts and desires."

"Really this wee flower says all that?" Chibbs adds catching onto Juice's idea.

Katherine giggles, nodding her head in affirmation "Yes, it does. Each flower has its own language, so to speak, like a secret code that florists use to convey emotions and messages. Snapdragons, with their unique shape and symbolic meaning, are one of my personal favourites."

Happy listened in, finding himself actually interested in the conversation. He knew about the language of flowers to some extent, but listening to Katherine talk about it with such passion and knowledge was captivating. He found himself admiring her even more, impressed by her unexpected depth.

The Sons finished packing away the last of the booth's items, the once vibrant display now packed into neat boxes. Though he wasn't one for sentimentality, Happy couldn't help but feel a bit sad that all her work had been for nothing. He caught Katherine looking at the now empty space, holding onto one of the crowns a kid left behind, her eyes filled with a mixture of resignation and disappointment.

He stepped closer to Katherine, feeling the need to say something, anything to lift her spirits.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I am sure those kids had fun while it lasted." He tried to sound casual, but his gruff voice betrayed a hint of concern for her well-being. His eyes caught sight of the flower crown she held, and he added "At least got that as a memento, right?"

"Yeah..I guess but they were made to be worn...and this one got left"

Happy nodded slowly, understanding her point. The flower crowns were supposed to be worn with joy, not left behind like discarded toys.

He paused, thinking for a moment, then an idea came to him. With a sly grin, he extended his hand out to her.

"Here, give it to me."

Katherine eyed him with curiosity but handed over the flower crown, wondering what he was planning. She watched as he took it in his hands, his rough fingers gently holding the delicate petals. He placed the crown on his head, a comical sight that contradicted his intimidating appearance.

"flowers suit you" she giggled

"Hey no fair I want one I thought they were just for the kids" Tig whines. "Here give it to me it will suit me better it's wasted on you" Tig goes to reach for the crown.

Happy swats Tig's hand away, a smirk on his face.

"Back off, man. I look good in it."

He retorted, adjusting the flower crown on his head, enjoying the ridiculousness of the situation. The other members snickered at the sight.

Clay and Gemma approach, only to find Happy and Tig locked in a comical struggle over a flower crown. Their faces were caught somewhere between disbelief, amusement, and annoyance.

The other members tried to hold back their laughter, but the sight of their tough as nails friends bickering over a flower crown was too much. A chorus of snickers and chuckles echoed around them.

"Hey don't break it...Tiggy I can make your own one what ever colors you want there is no need to fight over it" Kathrine says in-between laughter

Happy and Tig were broken out of their bickering by Katherine's offer. They both turned to her sheepishly, embarrassed by their childish behaviour. Tig scratched the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant.

"Uh yeah, okay fine." He grumbled, secretly relieved to get his own flower crown.

"Oh I want one too with lots of yellow" juice chimes in.

"Well hell I'll have one" Chibbs adds "you got any blue and white ones left??" He asks opening the boxes looking for the flowers he wants.

"You want them now?" Kathrine asks thinking they weren't being serious

"Well yeah...wouldn't want these flowers to go to waste" Tig says nonchalantly

Katherine laughs at the unexpected turnaround, still wrapping her head around the fact that tough bikers were now requesting flower crowns like giddy schoolchildren.

"Alright, alright, I'll make all of you a flower crown," she agrees, unable to suppress her amusement.

Happy stands there, flower crown still perched on his head, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face. The other club members, meanwhile, eagerly wait for their crowns to be made.

They all sat in the grass watching her weave the flowers and listing off all their meanings Opie left and returned with his kids and Donna, who looked on with a mix of curiosity and surprise at the scene unfolding. Opie, ever the peacemaker, felt that this was an opportunity to show Donna and the kids a different side of the club.

Katherine continued weaving the flower crowns, listening to the bikers' requests for different colors and flowers.

Soon they all wore crowns except her even her Dad took one after hearing about her booth being deserted.

Happy was sat on the edge of the group, awkwardly attempting to weave the flowers together. His large fingers were far from delicate, and the petals kept slipping from his grasp. He muttered curses under his breath as his attempts looked more like a tangled mess rather than a flower crown he wanted to make for her as she was kind enough to make ones for all of them but he could give her this it looked like shit compared to her ones.

The other members glanced over at him from time to time, enjoying the sight of happy struggling with the flower crown. they whispered and chuckled amongst themselves at the sight of their friend, known for being rough around the edges, attempting to make something so fragile.

Happy grumbled at the snickers and comments coming from the other members, his face growing slightly red with embarrassment. He knew he looked silly, trying to make a flower crown when his hands were better suited to wielding a wrench or a gun. Still, he persisted, determined to create something somewhat presentable for her.

Though he was trying his best the result was somewhat pathetic the flowers were clumsily woven together, the petals sticking out in strange directions. He looked at the other members' crowns, neatly woven and vibrant, then down at his messy attempt. He knew it was nothing compared to her artistry, but it was the best he could do given his limited skills.

Finally, he finished tying the messy crown together. It looked a bit lopsided and rough around the edges, but he was oddly proud of himself. As he looked up at the others, he braced himself for the playful banter and mockery that was sure to come.

Happy muttered to himself, trying to rationalize his actions. he told himself he was only doing this to make up for ruining her flower booth, nothing more. He clenched the flower crown in his hands, feeling foolish and out of place surrounded by colorful petals and laughter.

He looked over at her, seeing her chatting and laughing with the other club members as she continued making the flower crowns. The sight stirred something in him he couldn't quite understand. he couldn't deny the pang of guilt he felt seeing her joyous expression, knowing that he played a part in ruining her day.

Well it's now or never he wasn't sure how to go about giving her his attempt at a flower crown, he's never given none before so isn't sure what to do so decides to just reach over from behind her and place it on her head.

Happy swallowed, taking a deep breath as he mustered up his courage. He reached out from behind, gently placing the flower crown on her head. He held his breath, waiting anxiously for her reaction, hoping she wouldn't laugh at his pathetic attempt.

She turned her head, surprised to feel the weight of the flowers being placed on her head. She looked back at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, a soft smile on her lips. She could tell he was feeling a bit embarrassed, and reached up to adjust the flower crown, feeling the soft petals against her finger tips.

Happy watched her touch the flower crown he made, noticing the way she gently adjusted the messy petals into place. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, waiting for her to say something, anything. But all she did was smile at him, her eyes sparkling with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

The other Sons chuckled at the scene in front of them, unable to resist teasing Happy about his sudden burst of chivalry. Tig whistled approvingly, while Opie and Chibbs exchanged knowing glances.

Happy shot a glare at his fellow Sons, silently warning them not to say anything. He knew they were itching to tease him about his flower crown gift, but he wasn't in the mood for their jokes. He focused his attention back on her, watching her admiring the flower crown he made, hoping she didn't find it too pathetic.

She caught him watching her, and turned to face him fully. Her eyes met his, and she smiled, a genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle and dimple her cheeks. She looked down at the flower crown, feeling the messy petals against her skin, then looked back up at him, her eyes softened, and said softly

"Thank you, its beautiful." Sensing his awkwardness about it she decided to leave it at that and turned back joining in on the conversation again.

Happy's heart skipped a beat at her words. He hadn't expected such a genuine thank you, especially since the flower crown he made looked far from perfect. He nodded stiffly, his usual gruff demeanor replaced by a sense of vulnerability.

He sat back down next to Chibs, trying to hide his relief and elation over her kind words. The other Sons couldn't hide their amusement, but for once they refrained from their usual jokes and instead gave him approving grins.

The evening carried on, and Happy found himself stealing glances at her from time to time, seeing her interacting with the other club members, her smiles and laughter lighting up the gathering. He felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest, a mix of pride and protectiveness seeing her fitting in with them, even if she was surrounded by rough-around- the-edge bikers.

If you want to read more of my OC Katherine and her time with the club click here

Tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @ravennaortiz

Let me know if you want to be added to my future tag lists or if you want to be removed

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perotovar · 1 month ago

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oc interview ♥

tagged by the ever-lovely @daggertongue ty!!! <3

as a shock to no one, i will be doing this for my baby, river!

(i made river in bg3 so we have some sort of visual representation! obv they aren't really a half-elf with a big scar, but everything else is accurate lol)

here's the fic they come from -> into the beat of the night (frankie morales x oc)

☆★☆★☆★☆★

■ Basics

Name:

- "River Price, nice to meet you!"

Are you single?

- "Nope!"

Birthplace?

- "Brooklyn, New York. My family still lives there."

Hair color?

- *they run their ring-clad fingers through their long hair, a smile on their face* "Black. I dye it, but don't tell anyone!"

Eye color?

- "Green. Frankie says they remind him of leaves. What a sap <3"

Birthday?

- "May 11, 1989! If you wanna talk about astrology, I'd love to!"

Gender?

- "Nahh, none for me, thanks."

Mood?

- "Right now? Content."

Are you happy?

- *they pull out their phone at look at the photo of Frankie on their lockscreen* "Yes."

Are you angry?

- "I used to be."

Summer/Winter?

- "Winter. My wardrobe isn't very... suited for Summer weather."

Morning/Afternoon?

- "Early morning or late evening. It's quiet and I like the solitude. Or at least the sound of Frankie snoring next to me while I read."

■ Eight things about your love life

Are you in love?

- *they look to their left, where Frankie is standing there waiting for them to finish. he's got a shy smile on his face, which makes their eyes light up* "Utterly."

Who ended your last relationship?

- "Well, before Frankie, I would mostly have flings here and there. My last real relationship was... toxic. I ended up being the one to put a stop to it, though."

Have you ever broken someone's heart?

- "Never on purpose, but I suppose you don't really have any control over that, do you?"

Are you afraid of commitments?

- "No, but it takes a lot to get me to that point."

Have you hugged someone within the last week?

- *they laugh lightly* "Yes."

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

- "I'm not sure..." *Frankie pipes in from the side* "There's no way they haven't." *he chuckles*

■ Six choices

Love or lust?

- "Can I say both?"

Iced tea or lemonade?

- "Hmm... I prefer coffee."

Cats or dogs?

- "Cats. I've got one of my own! His name is Jonsey."

A few best friends or many regular friends?

- "I have a tight knit group of close friends. It's expanded to include Frankie's friends as well, now, though."

Wild night out or romantic night in?

- "Oh, both are fun, but I think a romantic night in would probably suit us better at this point, right, babe?" *Frankie nods, agreeing quietly*

Day or night?

- "Night, because I'm original like that."

■ Four have you evers

Been caught sneaking out?

- "No, I was a relatively good kid. Besides, my Nonna would've kicked my ass."

Fell up/down the stairs?

- *they blink, then lean forward in their seat, suddenly very serious* "Who told you?" *Frankie giggles next to them* "Oh, you're gonna get it later, mister!"

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?

- "Yes, but it hurt in the best possible way."

Wanted to disappear?

- "A very long time ago. I'm glad it didn't work out."

■ Four preferences

Smile or eyes?

- *they look over at Frankie, studying his face quietly* "Eyes."

Shorter or taller?

- "I'm 5'4" so it's easy to be taller than me, but I don't mind one way or the other."

Intelligence or looks?

- "Intelligence, for sure. As pretty as you are, babe, I love our conversations more than anything." *Frankie smiles*

Hookup or relationship?

- "If you'd asked me a few months ago, I'd have said hookup, but relationship."

■ Family

Do you and your family get along?

- "Yes. It took them a bit of time to come around to a new name and pronouns, but it worked out in the end. I still have a couple members of extended family that don't really get it, but I don't see them very often."

Would you say you have a "messed up" life?

- *they think quietly for a moment before answering* "I know what you're trying to say, so I'll say 'no'. But no one's upbringing is perfect."

Have you ever run away from home?

- "No, but I thought about it for a time. I was afraid to come out at first."

Have you ever gotten kicked out?

- "No."

■ Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

- "No, they're out of my life now. Good riddance."

Do you considered all your friends good?

- "Absolutely! They wouldn't be my friends if they weren't."

Who is your best friend?

- "Her name is Anya. I just set her up with Frankie's friend Benny and they're so cute it's disgusting."

Who knows everything about you?

- *Frankie comes in and laces his fingers with theirs* "This one does. I had a lovely time, thank you!" *they leave together, hand in hand*

☆★☆★☆★☆★

np tags: @jolapeno @sp00kymulderr @chronically-ghosted @kedsandtubesocks @qveerthe0ry

@quinnnfabrgay-writes @goodwithcheese @whocaresstillthelouvre @missredherring @for-a-longlongtime

@arcanefox207 @gutter-noise @sin-djarin @80ssong @mrsmando

@almostfoxglove @ozarkthedog @clubsoft @beardedjoel @evolnoomym and anyone else that wants to <3

#admin #itbotn #nonbinary oc #enby oc

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glazedsnail · 5 months ago

Text

no clue if I promoted this one here so. Here it is.

I wrote what happened after Fern and Shane's flower dance, they hint at it in the epilogue.

After the Flower Dance

Ao3 link ↑

It's full of fluff, and smut.

Smluff.

E rating, Shane x OC Fern. Very self indulgent. I wrote it on my phone while I was bedbound so uh...be nice.

Look at those two idiots done by @lonely--seeker UGH

Tumblr version under the cut ♥

I didn't want any of this to end, ever. My forehead on his, his smile reaching my heart through the tears as his words fell into my ears. 'I love you.' They repeated in my brain. 'I love you.' With the sweetest whisper. 'I love you.'

I softly laughed, tears fell on my cheeks, my hand on his smiling face. All I wanted was to kiss him again, bury myself in his embrace and never leave him. The hardest months were behind us, and even if we still had a lot to talk about, he said those words. 'I love you.'

But we forgot where we were. And suddenly a wave of people grabbed us, surrounded us, quite frankly startling us half to death.

I remember Marnie grabbing us both in her arms, sobbing. Jas pulling on my dress. Emily snatching me by the arm pulling me away from the one I never wanted to leave again.

Shane received the same treatment from Sam.

When they were all done questioning us, we eventually managed to sneak out. It wasn't fair on Marnie, or Harvey, who had planned the whole thing and probably wanted to spend some time with me after these months. I'd apologize later. All I could think about in that moment was that I was reunited with Shane, we shared a dance, and he told me he loved me.

I missed him so…

He took my hand, as the excitement was slowly dying down, and took me out of the clearing. I squeezed his hand with so much strength, to make sure it was real, in my own fingers, that I would never have to let go again.

"Didn't think we'd be such the event." I started, looking back at the clearing we just escaped, letting them enjoy the rest of their Flower Dance. We walked slowly, my hand playing with his arm around me, tightening his embrace, probably determined to never let me go. Every few steps, he would stop me and plant a kiss on my forehead, or my cheek, my arm, my hand, or in my neck, and would sometimes make me twirl with a laugh.

We're both very bad dancers.

"I've missed you so much." Shane whispered, as we stopped again, this time kissing the long scar on my wrist. "I…I still can't believe you're back." He added, pulling me to him as if to confirm it to himself.

"I'm here, Shane." I said, pushing a strand of wild hair away from his smiling face. "I'm not going anywhere."

The day was slowly getting darker, the sun setting beyond the sea we could watch from the cliff we had now reached. "I'm sorry I left without saying anything…" I tried to say. He deserved an explanation, and I gave him none.

I knew from Marnie how hurt he was, even if I myself had some ideas. I never would have come back if it wasn't for her incessant coming to the city, trying to speak to me. I'm not persuaded that's the truth. I spent days telling myself how this was for the better, for the sake of both of us, while loving him, hiding it from Marnie.

Marnie would repeat how she was wrong, how she'd been mistaken, and if I could give Shane a chance again.

But I was nothing but a disaster for his recovery. Her words.

"I didn't want to be a burden for you, you know, another damn piece of luggage you'd have to haul on top of everything else." I laughed.

"Mh, I remember someone saying they didn't get to pick and choose who they end up caring for…" Shane smirked. He ran his fingers through my hair. "And that no one could tell them they can't care."

"Using my own words is weak, Shane." I laughed again, cradling myself in his big palm. "I thought my self-help advice were crap anyway."

"Oh, they are!" He chuckled, bringing my face to his. "Doesn't mean I can't rehash them to you."

I looked up at his glimmering eyes, the setting sun creating fires in his deep green pupils. All this seemed so long ago. Well. Almost a year… This date was a complete disaster. "I'm sorry, Shane." I softly said.

With the most tender touch, he pulled me to him, letting me rest in his arms. I squeezed him back, my face deep in his chest.

I truly missed him. From the second he left me. From the second I asked him to leave me, when my tired eyes closed on his worried face turning away.

"You'll never be a burden to me, to anyone." Shane said in my ear, his arms still wrapped around me. "I shoulda never left you in Zuzu city I-"

I cut his nonsense. "Shane, what else could you have done?" I didn't want to think back on it, the hurt, the lies, the false compromises we made for the sake of…secrets? Not when I'm in his arms.

He sighed, his hands slowly running up and down my back. I closed my eyes and rested on his chest. His heart beating fast against my ear, his hands rediscovering my body under the white cotton. I missed this. His voice, his smile, his warmth…His hands against my skin.

I lifted my head to him, meeting his happy eyes, and grazed my lips against his. "I missed you." I whispered. I slowly trailed my fingers against his chin, raising my hand to his cheek to cup his face. "I missed you a lot." I whispered again. When he softly growled between his teeth, I knew he got what I meant. His hands on my back became greedier as his breathing quickened.

My hands caught his hair, pushing him against my neck to get my lips close to his ear. "Back in the city, in my tiny bedroom, I would miss you a lot." I heard his gulp, his hands stopped on my back. "I would remember our first night together, I would imagine your hands over my body. My hand an insult to what your hands gave me." His legs closed the distance against mine, and I could feel his hips slowly moving. My fingers on the nape of his neck, I softly let my nails graze his skin, feeling the hairs raising, his breathing getting heavier. "I only had the image of you in my head, the faint memory of your body against mine, and how you'd make me scream." I giggled. "I wouldn't scream, but end panting your name, craving you, missing you so." My lips against his ear, I reached for his lobe, pinching it between my teeth. "I'd repeat your name, again, and again. Craving your touch, your weight, begging my hand to give me the same release as you would."

Without a word or lifting his head from my neck, he slowly pushed me against a nearby tree, before pushing himself into me. "Do you remember that night, Shane?" I continued, my warm and damp breath on his crimson ear.

"I do." He replied, his low voice making me jump. "I'd remember it too, Fern, a lot…" He laughed. I joined him, probably thinking the same idiotic scene of either of us giving in to the call of our bodies craving the other perhaps at the same time, under the same bloody sky. "Alone, in my room, thinking about your body, your naked skin under my fingers" He sighed against my neck. "Those are good memories."

"We can make more, now." I only managed to gasp, Shane's lips taking the tender skin of my throat, his hands on my waist, my hips, making them move against his own. I grabbed his tie, loosening it up to reach for the skin under his shirt. I laughed, seeing the stain on his otherwise well ironed white shirt, helping him out of his blue costume vest.

His lips were warm, soft, exactly the way I remembered them, how they'll always be. I pulled him more into me, hooking my leg with his, making him press me against the tree. I didn't want any daylight between his body and mine.

As his lips descended on my throat, my breasts, I could feel his hand reaching for them under my dress. He groaned, and a rip made him jump backward. "Fuck, your dress."

I laughed and pulled him back. "It's fine, it's an old thing." It wasn't, but the thought of Shane being so aroused by the idea of taking me against a tree, feeling my skin against his hand, that he ripped the cotton just to reach my breast…

His apology didn't last long, as he quickly got my breast out of my bra to cover it with kisses. One hand on the back of my head, the other trailing down on my thigh, I let him consume me, my own hands lost in his hair. How could I forget the softness of his lips on my tender skin, the roughness of his hand on my ass, the impressive growth poking me between his legs.

"Should we go…to the farm…" I tried to say. Shane scoffed, his hand playing on my inner thigh. He grabbed my lips, pushing my head against the tree, kissing me with hunger, as he made me understand that there was no way he could wait until then. Not even the ranch. He had to have me now. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want him right this second.

His fingers slowly raised my dress, gathering the cotton fabric in his hand, grazing my shaking thigh.

"Are you teasing me?" I asked panting miserably, his hand approaching but never staying.

He laughed. "I'm just savoring the moment" he said hoarsely, his plump kissed lips smiling at me. "I missed you. I tried to think, to imagine you coming back to me."

"Did it look like this?"

"Never as close." His fingers caressed my cheek. "No matter how hard I'd try, I could never get your perfume right, the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body…" I shivered, his hand climbed my thigh, his fingers now playing with my underwear. "And the taste of you whole." He growled, shiver covering my skin. "Fuck, Fern I need to have you".

Shane fell on his knees, quickly reaching my thighs with his lips, making me gasp. "Shane!" I could only grab his head through my dress, unable to stop him. Not that I would have wanted to.

I felt him peel my underwear from me, and his warm quick breath on my swollen lips. He kissed me whole, gently introducing his tongue, slowly becoming more ravenous.

I stood there, against the tree, one of my breast out of the tear Shane created. Him kneeling in front of me, his upper half hidden by my innocent white dress from where his wet groans were reaching my ears. My thighs shaking, my gasps getting louder and louder as he grabbed my leg to rest it on his shoulder, his tongue making love to me with such knowledge.

I tried to choke my screams with my hand, the other digging into the bark of the tree. Shane's hands on my hips slowly moving against his face. "Shane I…" I couldn't even get the words out, he knew by my moans, the sound of my voice, and kept the pace until I exploded on him, strengthening his grasp on my hips as I shake, scream, beg.

I was afraid I would fall, my legs shaking. But he quickly stood up, helping me stand by holding my waist. "You taste so good…" He said, shining lips and bright eyes. I begged for his mouth, asking for a kiss without uttering a word, recovering my breath from what he gave me. "I missed those sweet little screams of yours" He smirked, punctuating his words with kisses on my parted lips trying to catch my breath.y

"I love you" I could only reply. Ashamed at my legs shaking, I giggled, covering my face of my hand.

"Don't hide" Shane replied. "I love you…and the flush in your cheeks after you orgasm." He teased with a smile. "I thought I'd never get to see it again." He added, scanning my face with his deep green eyes, drinking me all in, as if I was about to disappear again.

"I never want to leave you." I whispered, punctuating with a kiss. "I need you." I pulled him to me, feeling his erection against my overstimulated pussy. "I need you" I repeated in a whisper, my hands sliding down to his belt to finally free him. I found his warmth, gently stroking it, letting Shane groans in my mouth, his own hands cupping my face. The graze of his rough fingers on my jaw, pushing me into his lips, his tongue slowly playing with mine, tilting at the rhythm of my hand rubbing his girth.

How could I forget the fire Shane ignites in me, how powerful the lone touch of his skin, the feeling of his lips, my hands in his hair, the raspy sound of his voice. How did I ever think I could live without him.

"I want to make love to you all night" he growled between clenched teeth as he grabbed my legs to let me wrap them around his waist. "But fuck I want you so much I'll… I just lose it at your touch."

I felt myself quiver, laughing, he's an idiot. He's my idiot. "We have our whole life for that, my love" I gasped, his girth slowly coming into me with a slight twitch.

"W-what did you say?" He stuttered in a half breath, his dazzled eyes on my flushed face, overwhelmed by lust and love. "Fu…what did you call me?" His grasp on my ass tightened, his fingers digging in my plump flesh.

"My love…" I purred.

"Oh Yoba…." Tentative thrusts as he trembled, immobile against my wetness, his eyes half closed into mines. "Say it again…"

I giggled "my love…Please, fuck me, my love."

I could have sworn I heard him conceal a whimper as he pushed his cock deep inside me. "Oh fuck…" Shane's voice disappeared in my neck, and I felt him take slow deep breaths as he settled in my pussy, his hands bruising my thighs. "I missed your tight little cunt…" He groaned against the skin of my throat.

He raised his head back to me, his hips frozen against mine, to look into my eyes. "I love having you inside me." I whispered. "I missed your cock so much…". I added, clenching around him, seeing his eyes close rapidly, swearing under his breath.

He slowly withdrew himself, eyes still on me. "You feel so fuckin good Fern" His stubble grazed my lips before I met his in a slow kiss, shy, even, as if we were tasting each other for the first time, as if he was not inside of me at this very moment.

I lifted my head against the tree, receiving Shane's length entirely, my hands pulling his hair, the burn in my stomach growing louder. His head on my side, damp with sweat, covering my ear with his growing sighs, his voice making me clench at every word. "You're taking me so well… You're making me feel so good…"

He started biting my neck, his grunts, groans, becoming deeper, louder, as my own squeals turned to screams, the tension in me ready to snap.

He trembled, sweat beading on his forehead, his teeth digging into his lower lip, working his hardest between my legs, turning me into a slave of his every movement. Just like our first night, just like the first time we merged our bodies together to make me see stars, to give me the most sumptuous and shameless release as only he's ever managed to do. "Fern…Fern baby you feel amazing around my cock."

I felt the burst, the ever expanding fire blowing inside me, my nails digging on Shane's back as he made me explode on him, increasing the wet sound of his thrusts inside me, making me howl shamelessly against that tree. "That's it baby…such a good girl for me…"

And I'm in his arms again, I can take his lips in mine, kiss his skin, grab his hand, feel him inside me.

"Sh…Shane…" I ridiculously gasped, twitching, pulling on his shirt, shaking, swaying against his hips still jolting inside me, my release now dripping from my raised legs. "Shane, my love, cum for me, cum for me please…"

Was he awaiting permission, or were my words enough, as his growl turned to this deep moan, concealing again a whimper against the skin of my neck, shaking inside me. His warmth sputtering in my depths, his hand pulling at the bark behind me.

Tears fell on my cheeks. Receiving Shane's love, raw, knowing I will receive him for the rest of my life.

We softly fell on the grass, both finding our breath, unable to keep apart from each others lips.

I nestled into him, finding the sweaty groove of his neck I once fell asleep in.

"Are you…are you crying?" Shane asked, his big palm on my wet cheek.

"I…I'm happy Shane…" I replied, sobs choking my voice. Insanely happy. Deliriously so.

We're both disasters. We could have missed each other in so many ways. But I know in myself we could never have made the other worse. That misery loving company was just a baseless cry. Shane made me better. Shane made me happy.

"I'm happy too." He whispered, cradling me in his arms, rocking me against himself, as we let the moon cover our reunion, hopefully sole witness of our love.

#stardew valley #self indulgent oh SO self indulgent #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #failed writer #fanfic #sdv #sdv shane #sad chicken man #stardew valley shane #shane x oc #shane x fern #writing #ao3 link #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 writer

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itsmistyeyedbi · 5 months ago

Note

For Zuri!! (18 may be a silly one because I know she's on different routes, but I am curious if she does think she has a type and how the different members of UB fit that or not. But the answer might also just be "no" lol.)

♥ (08) What is your OC’s dream marriage proposal?

♥ (12) What do you love most about your OC?

♥ (18) Does your OC have a “type”?

♥ (21) Does your OC believe in love at first sight?

Hello hello PD! Thank you for sending in some questions🥹

I'm actually so glad you sent in 18, I haven't spoken about it before and with UB specifically it's dependent on a lot of different things👀 But, I'll get into that later.

8. What is your OC's dream marriage proposal?

This is the the question where the answer is lowkey just "no" lol. But, it's a complicated no. Zuri barely let's herself think about getting married. Her perception of herself, and by extension, the relationships she thinks she's capable of having, don't allow for it to even be considered. She doesn't think she can or should have anything stable and real - some of this comes from her childhood but a lot of it comes from her actions afterwards.

She isn't fully aware of this, but she absolutely idealises her life before Rook’s death (when I first read twc I thought he died when the detective was 8-ish, I later found out that I was wrong but it became too integral to Zuri's character for me to change it). This includes her relationship to both her parents at the time and the relationship Rook and Rebecca had. Those two were so in love and little Zuri only ever saw that, they were as solid and as loving as can be - and yet they didn't last. They did everything right and everything was practically perfect (from her perspective) but their relationship never got the chance to stand the test of time because someone took him from Rebecca. From her.

While Rook was forcefully taken away from them, Rebecca was choosing to be away from her. Suddenly work started taking up almost all of her time, and the few occasions where she was home she could barely look Zuri in the eye. Not when all she could see in them was Rook. She stopped being as physically affectionate too (the change is more drastic to Zuri than it may have actually been - that type of affection was more Rook’s thing than Rebecca’s, even if she did make a point to try to be, but with both parents gone in some way it felt like she was getting next to nothing). Seeing her, touching her, watching her smile the same way Rook did visibly pained Rebecca, so even if she did try to be affectionate she would almost instantly pull away and harden herself (sounds pretty similar to a certain someone) as to not breakdown in front of her. Little Zuri couldn't read that as anything more than rejection - her mother was seeing something in her that she didn't like, something so bad that it hurt and repulsed her.

So therein lies the beginning of Zuri’s abandonment issues. There is something about her that can drive people away, even people who initially love her. And if this internal force somehow doesn't make someone leave her, an external one will. The forces seem to be against her. And then the person she became later on in life in an attempt to have someone, to prove her worth to bobby someone, made her do things that resulted in her being completely alone for a good while. Ultimately, it reinforced her belief that either she or something else will always ruin a good, stable thing and that she it simply isn't meant for her. She can't have that, and she shouldn't have that because she doesn't deserve the chance anymore.

She's less likely to break something if she isn't holding onto it for long.

This got really long for just the one question, I'm so sorry💀 But yeah. All that makes marriage feel like an amorphous, unattainable concept that she can at most understand in theory. So a proposal hasn't been on the brain at all. If it ever was, when she was younger and everything seemed perfect lol, it isn't something she remembers.

12. What do you love most about your OC?

This answer isn't going to be as long, but it's difficult to just choose one. This is what's coming to mind right now: how much she tries to make the most of the present. All that mess from above has made it so that she's more open to those fleeting but memorable moments of connection with someone.

Chatting it up with someone(s) in the bathroom of a bar or club and deciding to go bar hopping with them, making casual conversation while she's queuing up for something, gossiping with the hairstylists whenever she decides to go to the saloon (or hair salon, if that's the term most people are familiar with). The occasional one night stand (she's very picky, they've gotta enjoy each other's company first before she goes for that) and the more familiar but not so frequent encounters with someone who was a friend with benefits or an ex who doesn't mind reliving a few memories wink wink.

She's so friendly and charming and outgoing - and even though it sucks that she won't let herself experience long term connections, I love how open she is to the more spontaneous and uncertain aspects of social interactions. I live vicariously through her on that front, just a little bit lol.

18. Does your OC have a "type"?

Oh, absolutely. There's layers to it and she isn't restricted to them, but there's definitely a pattern in who she's most likely to go for. I'm so glad you want to see how UB might fit into it, I've been wanting to yap about this forever!

If we're talking physical appearance, someone who is bigger than her in any way (they've got more height and/or muscle and/or fat) is going to catch her eye first. When Zuri first meets Unit Bravo, she definitely has a "oh no, they're hot" squidward type of moment internally lol.

It's Nate who catches her eye first. For obvious reasons, I think. The man is a giant, just over a foot taller than her, and the gorgeous smile and accessories certainly help (he wears rings right? or is it a singular ring? either way, accessories are also something that catches her eye). No matter what route she's in, she starts off having a little thing for Nate. It just fades off into something platonic if she's romancing someone else.

Speaking of someone else, she does notice how muscular Adam is. That broad and very obviously strong but not super defined look/build he has going on is very appealing to her. With Morgan, it's the aesthetic and the accessories that she notices. The cords around the neck and wrists and the gemstone? She was immediately intrigued by that, and it's something she pulls off really well. And with Farah, it's her gorgeous smile as well, and her eyes. I imagine that Farah's whole face lights up when she smiles. And eyes that look like gold? She's immediately a little in awe (even though she does at some point wonder if those are contact lenses in book 1 lol).

So, while Adam, Morgan and Farah have aspects of their physical appearance that she's into, Nate just so happens to have he combination that makes her wanna gaze at him forever (I'm thinking some thoughts about a possible zuri/adam/nate poly now that I haven't thought about before and it excites me too much to put in this post, it'll get extra long if I do).

But personality wise? Zuri does go for the more closed off, emotionally unavailable people. So Adam and Morgan appeal to her the most there lol.

It's not the healthiest thing on her part, but she's used to having to work for attention and affection and that's what she feels like she's doing throughout book 1 and 2. Being able to see and feel the progression in her relationship with them is immensely satisfying to her, it makes it easier to gauge how they perceive her (and when she finally makes them smile, even a little bit, she thinks it's just as gorgeous on them - but it's with the added fuzzy feeling of being the reason for it).

Despite this not so great mindset, she does need to have a reason to want to develop the relationship at all. If someone's an asshole all the time, there isn't going to be much of anything to spark any more interest in them. She catches glimpses of Adam being than stoic and arrogant throughout book 1 that makes her want to know him (the scene in the car right before they speak to Kate Hayes and the softness in his eyes when he watches the rest of UB at the bar is what comes to mind rn). Unfortunately, Morgan doesn't really do that lmao, she's either being abrasive or trying to get in her pants. And while that juxtaposition both baffles and amuses her, she only starts wanting to know Morgan in book 2 (finding out that she likes nature gives them some common ground to work with and their banter is definitely less hostile, but her advocating for her to be the one to choose to do research or combat and her confidence in her abilities is an unexpected change that gets her to that point) (the mirror scene too, but i think that's a given).

Farah and Nate, on the other hand, are friendly from the jump, so there's no need for that. But the fact that there isn't makes her a little less trusting of them, mostly because it's more difficult to figure out where she stands with them. Is there a catch? Do they not actually like her but are friendly because she's their boss's daughter? Is she getting any closer to them throughout book 1 and 2 or has she not progressed with them at all? Both of them can be so complimentary from the beginning, seeming to perceive her as someone who was so refreshing to be around that it could change or add to Unit Bravo's very established team dynamic, and she simply wasn't convinced. It takes a good while for her to even consider believing them. But when they start opening up to her about the less pleasant aspects of themselves or their experiences (the mirror scenes and the conversation you can have with them after the murphy nightmare is a given, but it's all I can think of rn), she definitely starts trusting them more and realises that what was said before wasn't the baseless praise she thought it was. It also scares her a little, because that means they've always thought so highly of her, and that isn't a perception of her that she can keep up.

That's not to say that she didn't like them throughout book 1 and 2, though. She did, and she did want to get to know them. She just, unfortunately, feels more secure in knowing how that's going when the person is mean first lol. With Nate and Farah, she's ultimately projecting👀

I think I got carried away again, I'm so sorry💀💀

Long story short, her type is someone who is bigger than her who wears accessories (in most cases) and is kind of an asshole but isn't just an asshole.

21. Does your OC believe in love at first sight?

No she does not. She believes in... a spark of attraction or intrigue at first sight, romantically or sexually or platonically. Like seeing someone who looks really cool to you and getting that niggling feeling of wanting to be their friend/lover. But love? No, not at all.

Wow a short answer for once lol. But this one doesn't have much backstory behind it, so it was much easier to answer.

Lovey Dovey OC Development Prompts

#thank you so much again!#and i'm so sorry it's so long - I seem to suck at summarising the reasons behind the answers for zuri #augh the adam/zuri/nate poly idea i got is so juicy and it hit me out of nowhere at a time where i am barely coherent😭#i think it works really well with your demiromantic headcanon for nate too aaaaah #i'll have to make a post about it later though - i'd need to think on it more and collect some screenshots from the book #but i've spent hours answering this it's 5am where i'm at now💀#oc: zuri jackson #asks #twc detective

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madeofcc · 2 years ago

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2023 Top ♥

Tagged by @someone-elsa and @shesthespinstersimmer ♥ Thanks a lot !

I didn't remember doing all that this year !

Thanks a lot to everyone who's been following me through this journey. 2023 was one of the worst year of my life but also one of the best weirdly so let's hope 2024 will be better for everyone ♥

below the cut I'll put the link and explanations for each edit

1/ The Moonlight/Moonwood Tales concept : Based on the lore that came with the werewolves pack, I imagined a story that would explain everything between the werewolves, vampires and spellcasters. I actually prepared a plan for season 1 ... Maybe I'll post it next year ?

2/ The stories I planned for this year but so far, only Melodia is still going. DH3 will start next year sadly and Another Side has been cancelled because of lack of time and a bad computer.

3/ Aïssa in the city : a special photoshoot/lookbook with some items I love and also a small interview including infos about DH2 and 3. It's also a way for me to show more about Aïssa's modeling life. The title is also a reference to the upcoming spin-off about her ...

4/ The DH3 women and the DH3 gang because I want you to love them when the story will start !

5/ The EDGEWAVE fest organised by @aniraklova ♥ It surely was my favourite event this year ! What an awesome idea it was and a lot of people did amazing stuff during 2 weeks ! You saved our summer for sure ! I used Candy Bher as a reference to Another Side and MOON who's a character in DH3 ...

6/ Toxic Don ! A potential new Another Side story I've been thinking about years now ... It would be fun !

7/ The Ghostface DH3 edits : It's a reference to DH3 and Scream of course; the plot will be a tribute to Wes Craven actually !

8/ The Melodia musical video part : it actually was awesome and fun to create but it took me an entire month just for this little video. I decided to stick to a more boring regular way to post this story. I also don't have a lot of readers so far so I guess they will forgive me. I still see it as one of my biggest achievement here though so check it if you can ^^ I love how the episode turns into a musical movie

9/ @windbrook's Slashed Challenge : it was one of my favourite CAS challenge of all time ^^ I'm a huge slasher fan ! It was perfect for simblreen and people created awesome characters and stories !

10/ A makeover of the Three Sages that comes with Realm of Magic : Ana Mae is actually an original OCs, they all should appear in DH4 and 5 ... Morgyn should be very important in DH4 actually ...

11/ URBZ Mag DH3 edition ! Get the girls part here and the boys part there ♥ I love doing fake interviews and mag covers ! Sorry not sorry

12/ Valentines day ♥ My favourite is the one with the Destiny, Leïla and Aïssa because it's funny and feminist, what this trio is together ! They surely had a great night that day, it's also supposed to happen after Melodia so ...

13 / Franck and Madame Sophie : the first drag sims I create ! I wanted one for the Aïssa spin-off so I guess it will be them :)

14/ Recent edits I like : Maria Perron for @birdietrait's coven (I love her and I'd love to make a little story about her) / An other Another Side new idea focused on Venessa Jeong / Destiny's last portrait for the ocs associations

15/ My favourite gif coming from Another Side Episode 1 : I think it's the best ending for this episode as it shows all the plots and times together. Everytime I see it I want to get back to the story ...

Tagging @trippisimmies @badwoohoo @bobnewbie @uwutrait @frzr-bunny @windbrook @eslanes @budgie2budgie @nefarrilou @kashisun @birdietrait @castawavy @agena87 @fangs-trait @peonypyxels @barbieaiden @void-imp @ladybugsimblr @xldkx @nilonne @bakersimmer @whyhellosims @mangosimoothie @djservo @sea-cross @surely-sims @hufflepuff-sim @aniraklova @therichantsim @wolfavens @cinamun @alelelesimz @moontaart @pralinesims @cyberth0t @squea @helloavocadooo @cross-design @rebouks @crazy-lazy-elder-sims and anyone else who'd like to join ♥ feel free to tag me or ignore this as well ^^ (Also, check out these blogs, they're all great !)

#2023 top #2023 highlights #2023 edits #my stuff in 2023 #what a crazy year #personnaly so many things happened #not to mention globally !

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captainqster · 5 months ago

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41. for Solis, 37. for Lidell and 18. for Ilya! 🖤

I'm assuming this was meant for the secrets & lies one! Thank you so much for the asks ♥

#41. Would your OC ever sabotage someone else's success by spreading rumors or dropping a lie in the right ear? What might motivate them to do such a thing?

Solis...kind of would. To be exact, he'd absolutely, 100% drop information in the right ear to destroy someone's social standing or even get them chased out of town, but it wouldn't necessarily be a lie. It might be a suggestion, a concern, or a skeleton he ripped out of their closet for the world to see.

This was part and parcel of the social "skills" his parents taught him. Does he take pleasure in it? Not usually, and he'd use rumors for what he deems to be the greater good - such as removing a dishonorable man from office. He's not perfect and neither is his sense of right and wrong, but he tries.

And make no mistake, if the situation calls for it he'll drop the pretty words and throw hands. Maybe even pistol whip you. He's a trained boxer and ex-soldier, and his survival instincts are a little too finely tuned.

#37. Your OC is asked by a close friend or partner to give their view on a new outfit or set of clothing. It really doesn't look at all good on them and possibly even looks utterly awful. Would they lie and tell them it looks amazing? Bluntly tell them that they look ridiculous? Or tactfully suggest an alternative might suit them better?

Lidell is an honest man. He'd prefer to stay quiet over lying but his tact is a newly acquired feature.

Should his partner/friend wear something unflattering he'd say nothing unprompted, but ask? He'd look them over and gruffly say "you've worn better."

Whether they decide to change clothes is up to them. He's said his piece and it's of no real concern.

#18. Is your OC a good liar? Or do they stutter or otherwise show they are struggling with the charade?

Ilya is also someone who prefers honesty. He is, however, an excellent liar, both by the mask he wears around people and the shit that comes out of his mouth. Not only will he don that blameless, inscrutable little smile that says "who, me?" if you get onto him about how flighty and easily distracted he is, but he'll lie to your face with the most earnest honey-brown eyes.

Ilya will be honest if he feels sure enough that he won't be punished for being the man that he is: curious, daring, playful. Even arrogant. If you earn his honesty it will come at a price.

He will embarrass you with his affections and his determination to hear how handsome and capable you think he is. Go on, flatter him. He loves it as long as he's interested in you (that's you, Gia).

#ffxiv #ask meme #solis #lidell #ilya #these were fun ones #thanks again!

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misstictart · 6 months ago

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Last part of Glitch's asks!! Here we are!! I'll still have one ask from someone else to answer to, then I think I'll have a break (at least, from the asks) :'D

I didn't plan to finish this with a comic- but the question feels particularly convenient to show a small scenario I imagined then illustrated last year!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 - You're here, kudos you've made it to the end!

35 – What’s the craziest thing that your OC ever did, or that ever happened to them? This is Springfield, after all!

She didn't have the best childhood, and frankly the day she decided to move back to Springfield, she was convinced nothing else could surprise her.

She was soooo wrong. For many reasons. While it's obvious to mention the Simpsons' shenanigans, she's more likely to get involved with the Italian Mob's ordeals. When she'd feel more comfortable hanging with them (or even before that), she'd sometimes end in the middle of awkward situations, to say the least- but nothing too life threatening (Fat Tony would make sure of it- partly because his sister would kill him if anything happened to her baby). Eventually, she even helps Legs patch up the others (or himself) when things didn't go as planned. Just anything for the familia to avoid going to the hospital as much as possible, and to make the best use of what she had learnt during her nursing training (might as well take advantage of it, even if hated it there).

But nothing was as much nerve wrecking than any trouble Bob would run into. Don't think getting him out of jail or hiding him in her very own flat was the craziest thing she ever did or witnessed.

Far from it- actually, she was starting to get used to his tales and shenanigans. From his attempt to become mayor, to take down the audiovisual industry, to the continuous attempts to kill a kid (one from the school she works at, to her dismay), then the time she had to remove his shock garter, or when she noticed he had gills (among other strange genetic manipulations), and so on. She thought she had seen it all.

Until the day he, once again, shows up unexpectedly to her place - and nothing would have prepared her for this eventuality. And yet, with the basic nursing knowledge she had, she was his best bet to, say, not lose face.

Under read-more for body-horror / cartoony gore - Inspired by the episode "The Bob Next Door" + the escape scene from "Bobby it's cold outside".

This concludes @gglitchshit's asks!!! Thank you so much for those, it took a while but I hope you enjoyed the ride just as much as I enjoyed writing and drawing the replies! ♥

#miss tic tac drawing #miss tic tac replies #Claryce Whitman #Sideshow Bob #The Simpsons #Simpsons ocs #Simpsons oc #Btw yes those are clothespins. You get what you can get to get the job done lmao #I'm aware he probably got his face stitched back in prison but seeing how it keeps falling I doubt they bothered to do the job well :'D #Anyway. This guy is so fucked up and frankly the more it goes the more she falls for him. It's the little things.#This said even if this one is slightly 'older' it's still my favorite comic I've drawn so far.#I'm very fond of the way I drew both Bob and Claryce. I think it sums up very well their interactions in general.#tw body horror #tw cartoony gore #tw needle #tw syringe

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carewyncromwell · 5 months ago

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Lovey Dovey Ask: 15, 23, and 28 for Carewyn, Jacob, Erik, Ana, Farid, Jackson, Desiree, and Eli?

Whoo, a wonderful, long list! <33 Let's see...rapid fire!

♥ (15) What is your OC’s favorite type of Valentine’s Day candy?

Carewyn: Salted caramel!

Jacob: Anything chocolate! Especially good quality chocolate like Cadbury.

Erik: Red Hots.

Ana: Conversation Hearts...not really to eat, though, she just thinks they're cute. <3

Farid: Farid doesn't celebrate Valentine's Day, but he likes making strawberry lassi as a treat for her sister Rim's birthday, which is also in February.

Jackson: Chocolate-covered strawberries and marzipan.

Desiree: Desi's not huge into candy in general, let alone for Valentine's Day. She much prefers fresh fruit when looking for sweets...perhaps cherries or passion fruit?

Eli: Raspberry or strawberry Jello. Eli loves Jello.

♥ (23) What is your OC’s favorite nice thing to do for themselves?

Carewyn: Some nice alone time in her flat after a long shift curled up on the sofa under a bunch of blankets with a cup of coffee and a good book.

Jacob: Honestly, his whole traveling life style kind of works for this -- traveling and seeing new things is how Jacob most enjoys himself.

Erik: Sharing a night off and a nice vintage wine with his wife Roxy. @mira-shard

Ana: Buying a new book for her collection -- she just loves that "new book" smell!

Farid: Sitting with an animal in his lap for a while and petting it. ...Yes, sometimes this can be a cat or a dog, but more often it's Fawkes the phoenix or a bloody chimaera. 😂

Jackson: Go window shopping! Even if he doesn't end up buying anything, he always looks out for gifts for himself and others!

Desiree: Reading, mostly...but also translating! She loves finding old artifacts in her room and taking the next few hours translating any text or codes she finds.

Eli: Sleeping in past noon and lounging around his apartment in his bathrobe and pants all day reading the newspaper, when he actually manages to have a whole day off to himself.

♥ (28) What is something unconventional that your OC thinks is romantic?

Carewyn: However organized Carewyn is, she does find it oddly charming when Orion leaves her notes and small gifts to find, sometimes even by mischievously leaving something out of its “usual” spot. (Example: he might move the paper towel rack in the kitchen so that when Carewyn moves it back, she finds a note from Orion telling her that she smiled beautifully in her sleep last night and to try to hold that happy dream she was having with her as long as she can.) He also likes leaving single flowers in her desk drawer for her to find.

Jacob: Duncan got an unusual amount of happy blushing and watery eyes from Jacob whenever he ever spoke well of or expressed concern for Carewyn. Jacob cherishes his little sister like no one else, so knowing someone he loves also loves his family as much as he does means a lot.

Erik: Roxy got quite a few awkward blushes out of Erik whenever she could read his emotions like an open book and articulated them without any difficulty. Erik is a very brain-oriented INTJ who hides a lot of insecurities with confidence and snark, and intelligence is both incredibly sexy to him, so being therapist Roxy being emotionally intelligent enough to predict his behavior or cut through his crap is very attractive to him.

Ana: Long, handwritten letters on parchment! Ana writes a lot to everyone, including her other half Charlie Copper @drinkyoursoupbitch , but Ana always uses quill, ink, and parchment to write because she finds the whole image rather Jane-Austen-esque.

Farid: Farid’s main love language is acts of service, so he actually really likes it when someone spontaneously does household chores like washing the dishes for him without being asked.

Jackson: Fixing someone’s (read: Monty’s @cursebreakerfarrier) tie. 💙

Desiree: Going to museums!! She loved it when her other half Jules @kathrynalicemc took her to the British Museum for the first time and he gave her a personalized tour based on when he used to work there. (Including sneaking under an Invisibility Cloak into some employee-only areas because hey, what’s life without a little rule-breaking? 😏)

Eli: As the resident grayromantic of my muses, Eli honestly doesn’t get romantic flashes too often. One of his unusual sexual turn-ons, though, are low singing voices — Alto and Bass voices really excite him.

Lovey Dovey Ask!

#lovey dovey ask #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphl #hpma

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everlastingauthor · 5 months ago

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Stardew Valley Match Up Gift

➣ Tags: Stardew Valley, Harvey, OC, Romance, Valentine's Day, Angst, Comfort, Fluff, & He Fell First.

➣ Media: Stardew Valley

➣ Request Open: ☑ Yes | No

➣ Author's Note: This is a Valentine's Day gift for a dear friend that I'm grateful to have in my life, so I hope she is all cozy while reading this and this is my first Stardew Valley fic. Do not reupload my writing anywhere else or feed it to ai!

♥︎ Harvey absolutely adores you, he's actual the one who fell first, he was a flustered mess when meeting you, playing his tie and adjusting his glasses while talking with you. His face was almost red as a hot pepper, you would assume he had eaten one because how flustered he was and the way his words came out. It took a while especially encouraging words from Maru, Leah, and Elliot. But Harvey finally asked you out, standing there with a colorful bouquet and asking you to have dinner with you, to which you happily agreed. Harvey felt like this was a dream, you were his first girlfriend and relationship so he hoped that he wouldn't mess up, Harvey always had trouble with asking people out since his whole life people saw the poor man as a coward but Harvey is glad you didn't see him that way. After dinner Harvey would walk with you to the lake and hold your hand, his coat over your shoulders as he tells you how beautiful you look under the moonlight and that you take his breath away, the night ends with Harvey walking you home and giving you a kiss goodnight, telling you how he looks forward to future dates with you.

♥︎ He loves to cook with you it's his favorite thing to do, on some date nights the two of you will be in the kitchen cooking and listening to music, dancing around the kitchen while the two of you make delicious meals and taste test each other's food. Harvey adores your cooking and thinks that you would make an excellent chef, Harvey is the type of guy to try and find romantic recipes to make for your partner, and suggest that you two make it together, there's a flour fight here and there whenever you two bake sweets together or tapping frosting on each other's noses. If there's frosting on your cheek Harvey will kiss it off and tell you that you're an absolute sweet treat.

♥︎ Harvey is 100% supportive of your small business and will do everything in his power to support you, he'll even tell others to visit your business. It's mostly Emily, Sandy, Haley, and Evelyn that will show to check out your business. Since you love fashion Harvey doesn't mind if you want to dress him up or give a little taste to his suit, anything you make for Harvey he'll proudly wear and if someone compliments it or ask where he got it, hell go on and on about how you made it and how talented you are.

♥︎ Tsk tsk I pity those who are dare rude to you especially Harvey pity those who are rude to you, because Harvey knows that you'll throw hands or go off on the person, maybe even both. Though whenever you are injured in a fight Harvey will patch you up and call you his tough lady. While it worries him that you get into fights, he knows that you are strong and capable woman who can stand her ground which is one of the reasons why he loves you, because he knows that you'll never let anyone get you down. There was one moment where a guy got too comfortable and tried to grab and Harvey knocked the guy out cold, Harvey ended up with a broken finger but he'll knock out a million guys just for you.

♥︎ Harvey knows that you are traumatized and haven't had good relationships, so Harvey is patience with you, he's caring for your mental well-being, and never raises his voice at you, Harvey will always do his best to understand your emotions and if you have your moments. Harvey will give you space and then come check up on you. If you need to be held then he'll hold you for as long as you want, he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear and words of affirmation until you feel better.

♥︎ Ah the Flower Dance Harvey always looks forward to the Flower Dance, he gets all excited to dance with you, you look absolutely beautiful and gorgeous, so he's happy when he dances with you. How the two of you can groove together to the music surrounded by the other villagers and the beautiful flowers, after the dancing is done Harvey will buy you a flower crown and tell you that you are his spring queen, Harvey will stay by your side until it's time to go home and he'll walk you home if you want he'll spend the night and cuddle you, but sometimes those cuddle sessions get a bit of spicy leaving you and Harvey out of breathe.

♥︎ Harvey proposed to you during a hot balloon ride, the man was a nervous wreck but when proposing he was calm and didn't stumble over his swords. He asked you would you be his and that you make him feel like he's floating up on cloud nine whenever he's with you and that he wants to feel that way for a long time and only with you, once you accepted you his proposal. You and Harvey watch the sunset until it's time to come back down.

♥︎ Harvey is the first one to wake up he'll watch you sleep until he gives you a kiss on the cheek, then gets out of bed to make both of you breakfast, he'll greet you once you step into the kitchen the smell of pancakes and bacon in the air especially the coffee that Harvey is brewing, he'll tell you that he'll be back home once work ends and if he has to stay late he'll let you know ahead of time. Harvey always wears his wedding ring, sometimes when he's doing paper work he can't help but to look at his ring and smile knowing he married the most beautiful, smartest, and courageous woman in the world.

♥︎ He loves to watch you knit while he's reading a book, when it's a quiet raining day the two of you enjoy each other's company, even when there's no conversation. Harvey is glad to be by your side while you two are engrossed in your own activities.

♥︎ He always knows what to gift you this man never misses with his gifts, sometimes he'll try to surprise you. Like before he made you two a romantic spaghetti dinner when he saw that you had been stressing for a couple of days, Harvey wants his beloved wife to be stress free and comfort - So he'll whip up dinner, draw you a relaxing bubble bath, and give you a massage.

♥︎ Before it's Valentine's Day Harvey already has everything planned out, and hide your gifts somewhere you can't reach them, don't even try looking because they ain't even in the house. Harvey will take you out dancing, fancy dinner, to a movie, and stroll through the park. When arriving home then he'll gift you. He had gotten you expensive chocolates, comfortable pajamas and slippers, tasty snacks, a brand new knitting kit, clothes, and a locket. Harvey doesn't tell you how much he spent.

♥︎ Harvey will always love you and if he could then he would marry you over and over again because you light up his life, you make him laugh and smile. How lucky is the doctor of Pelican Town glad to have you in his life forever and always, if he's lovesick then you are the cure he's absolutely needs.

" Happy Valentine's Day I Love You Tanya~ "

#fan fic author #fan fic stuff #fan fiction #fanfic #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew Valley x oc #valentines day #valentine gift #love you peppy ♥︎

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dukeoftheblackstar · 2 years ago

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"Right Here"

Summary: It’s ‘one of those days’ when the things are just too much. Sometimes all you need is an old man and their old man-foolishness. - Depression strikes and you're at the medcenter.

Pairing: Plo Koon x Duchess/Duch (oc/reader), Plo Koon x Reader

Word Count: 4.2 K

Rating/Theme: Angst, comfort, tw-suicide, gaslighting, innuendos, tw-depression, pre-established relations, flirting, slight choking, barely smutty

Notes:

“Right Here”— Second installment of Somewhere Only We Know

The song Plo sings for oc/reader are official lyrics from from @mimimirage / @eloquentmoon's "Planet Pink" [ permission to use granted via discord DM ]

1st pic = art by my very best friend and sister at heart, @amorfista [ please do not repost ]

2nd pic = commissioned art from a local artist [ personally owned / please do not repost ]

Color thingies because I'm deranged to not use them: Orange: Plo Koon Pink: You/OC/Reader Blue: Internal thoughts Purple: Self-Inserts

Perfect divider by @idontgetanysleep with itty, bitty, cutie-patootie Plo Koon face ♥

You do so much day in day out that it has become a wonder if you exist only to appease the fury and bitterness that resides in the damned. A conundrum of a cycle wherein you have no qualms in allowing anyone of your borrowed time and yet it seems to be quite burdensome to rob others of theirs, regardless of how deep you have plunged into the great seas of woe. A quandary that leaves you doubtful if you even deserve to feel such sadness and allow it to consume you when you should be keeping your heart empty to nurse and rid others of the vicissitudes of fate. An enigma that though should have enticed you to unravel and explore, leaves you abandoned not with want, need, or wanton desires, but abandoned as the word itself defined — left alone and all its synonymous narrative; forgotten, maybe.

But it’s not that bad, right? You get to live, meet people, experience things old and new — and besides, someone out there has it far worse than you. You should be grateful.

And so you become just that; "Grateful” — in every sense of the word.

You stopped ‘complaining’ because someone else has it far worse than you; stopped trying to ‘talk about it’ because you’re afraid to tell them that even after all the unprompted and unsolicited advice, you remain buried six-feet under the vicious weight of thoughts so intrusive you couldn’t bring yourself to cry it out of your system anymore —in hopes that it depletes you enough to fall asleep.

That you stopped trying to ‘deal with it’ because it has come to the point that trepidation has now been rooted so deep within the confines of your soul, it hinders you to function. To have fear of having to be seen in such a pathetic, weakened state that even the most mundane tasks remain undone. That the mere fact that you haven’t showered or bathed in days because you were so afraid that if you’re not careful enough, you’d slip and die without having to tell someone how much they mean to you.

That if you perish, as you begin to feel so deserving of such fate, you would leave them with the same conundrum. That, they, too, would have to suffer these intrusive thoughts because no one came; because they, too, were abandoned as the word itself defined — left alone and all its synonymous narrative; forgotten.

So yet again, you sit not with your knees enclosing your chest in an embrace like in the holovids — rather you’ve taken shelter under the dining table because it felt ‘safe’ there knowing that escape is but a kitchen knife away. Yet again you do not stand before the mirror contemplating on smashing it with your head or your fist, because you couldn’t bear the thought of having someone clean up the mess you’ve made. Yet again you do not frantically tap your fingers on the floor in fear that the neighbors might hear and complain and as such, you will all that you could muster to silence even the slightest of whimpers because you know someone would come and would have to sit through your ‘dramatics’.

And so yes, here you are in all the glory of one being ‘grateful’.

Here you are under the table of your lavish living room with today’s breakfast at midnight, a pile of unwashed dishes, laundry on the ground, and your commlink buzzing incessantly that seems to stab your fingertips with each attempt of a response. So you just read them, the messages — the funny ones, the sad ones, the work-related ones, the ‘are-you-okay?’ ones, and the ones from your beloved friend and confidant who had constantly dropped by and threatened to break the door down, forcing you to reply ‘I’m not home, I’ll message you the soonest’.

But you are, as we have established.

You pray to gods your people serve, even to ones you don’t and know not of; eyes closed with fingers knotted over your chest so tight that you could feel the in-between dips of your knuckles burrow further as if ready to break if not bruise. Your lips shake begging through a plethora of ‘please don’t’, ‘go away’, and ‘not today, please’, hoping that this does not turn into some heroic stride of having you swept off your feet and be given the ‘much needed’ respite and attention because today is simply not the day — as it was yesterday and the day before, and the day before the day before yesterday.

You’ve gone this far, do you honestly wish to disappoint those who believe in you? Do you feel it wise to make them feel bad because their words of comfort and support failed? Do you feel they are deserving of your failure because you could not find it within you to handle even the simplest of things?

Exactly. They deserve better than that. And after all, someone out there has it far worse than you.

Right…?

***

“Is it the gown that’s throwing you off? Cause I can’t cut it up and make it look sexy and we can rolepla—”

You couldn’t even finish because he’s stared you down with such oppressive silence all you could think of was apologize for something you don’t even know you’ve done but whatever it is, it must have been as heinous as to exist in the same timeline as him.

“What?”

“...”

You knew exactly what — he no longer wants you around. He no longer wants to deal with your obstinacy and how you constantly pry him from more pressing matters over something so trivial, so dramatic, so unnecessary.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re gonna be baby about this, Plo.”

“...”

It’s exactly that. He’s supposed to be somewhere; a meeting maybe? A mission? Maybe he’s tired. Tired of you.

“Look. I’m okay. I just… I just have really nosey neighbors, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

“...”

“I’m really, really, really, okay. I promise you.”

“...”

I’m okay, baby. I am. I am now.

“Well?…. Say something.”

“...”

He’s upset, no — he’s angry. He’s… He’s…

And just as you have occasionally been exposed to the oppressive nature of his silence, you turn to him as if matching your assumptious claim of him plagued with seething abhorrence over having to ‘take care of you’ again. Your brows meet in brewing animosity, glaring vehemently at Plo — ironically in contrast to the relaxed creases of your Kel Dor Jedi.

“If you have somewhere to be, just leave. I don’t know why you’re here if you’re just gonna be like that.” You couldn’t pocket an obvious sniffle and so you opted to turn your head away towards the unsuspecting bouquet of flowers of pinks, whites, and yellow chrysanthemums. It did you no better as ragged breath fell past lips that quivered and silver-hazed eyes that threatened to become even more fuddled with tears.

“I get it, okay? They shouldn’t have called even if it was an emergen—.”

They really shouldn’t have. I’m sorry if they had to call you. I promise I’ll try harder. I’ll be more grateful for what I have. I swear. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.

“But they did.” Came Plo Koon’s abrupt response, devoid of any obviously implied emotion — neither from the tone of his voice or the subtle shift in his masked visage.

You knew better than to argue. After all, you were no stranger to how ornery he can be, that even his fallen master found him stubborn and difficult — for all the good reasons, that is.

“Sorry.” Was all you could say.

For having known Plo for centuries, you would have thought that you’d get used to the power he held over you. That even mere words carry so much weight that he could say ‘love’ and wound you so deep to this very day, that him mirroring your candor with so much nectarous affection in the form of endearments ‘little love’ or ‘my darling’ disillusions you from the illusion itself.

That just by the mere sound of his voice, that unspoken timbre reserved only for your ears and your ears alone, would have you whisked into the grandeur of a fool’s paradise. A quixotic ideal where war can go fuck itself just as Plo can go fuck himself too, but through means of using every inch of your existence leaving nothing to waste. That just by the mere serendipitous touch of his talon-clad fingers paired with his poorly crafted apology for inadvertently wrapping around your neck so deliciously tight, he could easily bring to your knees to do no more than worship him as you would a god to atone for the sins of subjecting those around you in yet another depressive episode.

It gave you a sense of grounding at the very least; a laughable means of coping you’ve developed over time. One that would put his mind at ease to know that in spite of the decline of mirth within your soul, you still had some reserve to keep yourself from the point of no return — even if it meant you were doing it for others, not so much yourself.

You turn to face the still-standing Kel Dor whose hands remained tucked behind. Expressionless was better than him pacing frantically and mouthing off a full-on lecture. Though part of you expected to use this to his advantage; to go over how your last visit went and the lingering feeling of having professed indirectly required confrontation — then again, it wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you indulged in a very elusive discourse about matters of the heart. But at least you got to say it again, right? I mean not hearing it back is nothing new.

You hear him sigh, whether it was relief or frustration it hardly mattered. He was gonna chew you off you and you knew it. He’s probably at his wit’s end having to come to your rescue for what, the third time now in a month? You’ve already quit bounty hunting because Plo pulled the ‘I would rather you indulge my father in managing the hatchery in Dorin’ card. I mean who wouldn’t? You get to spend time with Dorin’s most charming Kel Dor, who has been quite-like a father to you with little knowledge that he’s about to become your father-in-law if Plo would just stop being a Jedi Master for a hot minute. That, and the fact that you get to help Dorin rebuild their population through the hatchery — not your more preferred method of helping since you’re pretty set on the fact that Plo is quite virile.

Even wishful thinking of him has deterred you from your further decline even for the fleeting moment of his visit. As for how long it’ll last, the daunting possibility of how grave the next ‘episode’ would be, looms about.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than an inquiry. You knew he was upset just from the fact that he hadn't approached you yet or had spoken much. Not many knew how chatty Plo Koon can be or how mischievous or playful he truly is behind the ever well-behaved aristocratic demeanor. You lowered your as your teeth sank to the bottom of your lip apologetically as you continued. “I understand if you are. I’d be mad at me too.”

“Good. Then we can move forward.” Plo Koon replies, true to his no-attachment Jedi teachings that infuriated you more than anything. And he knew; he knew how to drive you so far up the wall, you sometimes wish he just would — drive you up the wall and impale you on some 13-inch goodness of Kel Dor dic— “Oof!”

“Plo, what the fu—.!”

Plo Koon had very uncharacteristically whacked you with a miniature version of himself in the form of a plushie. Yes, your beloved three-hundred and eighty-four year-old Kel Dor childhood friend who makes you feel things that the Order would frown upon, has brought you the greatest gift that he could and could not give — himself.

“Oh, you are clever. Clever, clever, clever.”

And just like that, he had completely flipped your mood in ways you had not anticipated. The ever-wise, patient, kind, and doting Jedi Master had struck again. He didn’t need to say anything to convey his unwavering presence in your life and how he’d continue to be there in ways you’d need him; be it an amicable sense of support and an ear to ramble onto or the carnal sense of allowing you to peruse his entire existence in smutty stories in your head as long as they’d keep you occupied to leave no room for thoughts that he believed shouldn’t be there. He knew — knew you like the back of his own hand.

“Though I must say I did not have the heart to have that made anatomically correct.”

With a dramatic and proud pause, Plo makes his way to sit beside you, pushing you quite forcefully to give him room on the bed. Leaning to rest his back against the same pile of fluffed pillows as his arm wandered around your waist, he made himself further comfortable by crossing his boots beside yours at the edge. A subtle clear of the throat had you leaning your temple onto his shoulder, chuckling amused as he continued his seemingly required narrative.

“I’m sure you’re quite aware of how it would be highly inappropriate to make it so.”

He made a gesture to measure the length of the Plo-plushie’s leg, extending quite a leap past it as if you didn’t know how impeccably well-endowed he is that you need a visual. “Then again, I get the feeling this little one will be subjected to being defiled in the most… intimate of ways with or without… a certain appendage.”

“Plo, you prude, old man. Just say it. Say ‘cock’. Say ‘cock’ right now and I swear on all things encompassing our centuries-old friendship I will cease all attempts of killing myself.”

Plo had never seen such sternness and determination in your eyes that you actually had him caught off-guard for once. Torn between addressing your suicidal thoughts and the fact that the proposed resolution is so ludicrous that he was actually considering it knowing how you operate. You’ve had this chase of making him purposely say filth as it gives you delight beyond comprehension to have the dignified and highly revered Jedi Master General succumb to such sinful treats. Not that he was above such things, but they weren’t exactly preferred in his vocabulary.

“These… thoughts, my dear. Are they frequent?” It was enough to melt your heart among all the things Plo Koon. You’ve loved him for so long you’d let him stab you in the gut for fun — not that he’d do it, of course. Genuine concern etched over the creases of his face and the tenderness of his free hand caressing the back of yours that held the adorable toy. “Has something happe—.”

“Plo, I swear. Just say co—”

“Duche—”

“Plo.”

“Duch.”

“Just say—”

“Little love, please let’s tal—”

“Ep! Ep! Ep! We don’t say things like that in public.”

“Yes, we surely do not say things like that in public.”

The impasse called for silence. Lucky you, you had a little Plo-plushie to play with. You folded the plushie’s arms to cross over his chest, holding it down with one hand while the other pressed down over its forehead making it look disgruntled. “There we go. Now there’s two of you.”

“Indeed.” Plo Koon replies, taking the hint of your uneasiness and unwillingness to divulge the woes of your existence just yet. “Though I do not as such, little love.” He adds, reaching to adjust the split-legged plushie, into a more self-respecting fashion.

“You do not sit like that!” You replied incredulously. “Not with your —”

“But I do, my sweet. I do not, as you young ones call ‘mansplain’ in spite of being well endowed with a very large cock…—alorum behavior, which by the way is very much unlike me. I am but a humble Jedi with humble needs.”

The excitement in your eyes bloomed with laughter, shaking your head with a well-deserved slow-clap offered to the improper-elusive Kel Dor Jedi Master. He joins in the chorus of your blissful giggle with a hearty rumble of his own and a playfully pompous nod of acknowledgement of yet again another triumph.

“By the stars, I love you.” You sigh, dreamily as you feel the light creep through the darkened veins of your soul — truly a Jedi’s work at play. “I just… I love you. I love you so much I can’t.. I can’t….”

But as quick as the light bore once more into the shadowy depths of depression, you began fanning yourself in an attempt to suppress an outpour. Your eyes welled up and you began gasping for air as you tried your very best to stifle the whimper than turned to disheartened groans of pain, until you had begun to cry so profusely, your body shook in a mix of incoherent emotions.

You mumbled in between tearful pleas of asking Plo to make “it” stop, to do something because it wasn’t what you wanted right now. You threw in painful lines in jest, innuendos and petty attempt to restart the banter, self-deprecating jokes and nostalgic references etched like core memories between the two of you in your younger years— the last thing you wanted was for your time with Plo to end on a bitter note knowing he’d have to leave soon.

He held you tighter than what your knitted frames would allow, a little more and he’d have crushed you and as much you knew within yourself you wanted nothing more than to be turned to dust by a certain Kel Dor’s embrace, your tears seem to be the undisputed victor.

You felt the weight of his head over your crown, the scent of him filling your senses as you head your drenched face onto the side of his neck while your arms latched onto the toy, squeezing it in your own embrace. You wanted it so badly to be him, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to bestow him guilt of being limited in the gesture as to comply with the teachings of the Order. You wouldn’t dare put him in that predicament. And so you held the toy version of him imperviously close to you as if suffocating the poor little thing.

And then it happened.

“I know it baby, i’ll be a star And then you’ll be all mine And they won’t be able to take you from me”

You have been a fan of Mimi Mirage for as long as you can remember. The day you saw a poster of her at a record shop, you were so drawn that you purchased all four of her albums and had it on repeat that at some point, you were sure Plo Koon fancied a song or two from one of the most played albums when he’d come over. He’d also taken upon this interest of yours to spoil you Mimi Mirage merch, using his connections to procure signed copies. Plo had also made it a point to frame them because it’ll wear less if unexposed — all for your benefit, of course.

“I’m gonna make this planet pink I don’t care what they think I’m gonna make this planet pink”

You started to laugh in between a now fully-developed hiccup from all the crying and hyperventilating. You sniffled, whimpered, giggled, and even sorted a little at how off-key and weird it sounded being sung by your beloved Kel Dor friend. He continued, straining to get the key right and endure the missing words with hums and guesses that had you laughing as your face remained nuzzled on the side of his neck.

“You’ll be mine”

He mouthed the words slower over the specified lyric, the spurs of his clawed hand drawing idle patterns over the small of your back while the other purchased your cheek with a thumb strumming sweetly over the corner of your lip.

“I’ll take the risk”

You turned to receive a rather affectionate gaze, his thumb in a continuous stroke over the fullness of your lips from corner to corner. The weight of him heavy over your own forehead; turning, tossing, seeking that perfect angle for you to feel the contrast of the cold, stannic mask and warmth of the little exposed skin on his face. You could feel the protective lenses over his eyes push against the bone of your brow until he found that perfect spot to nest half of his face onto half of yours.

Your lips curve into a smile, then parted to utter more serene titter as you hear that luxuriously rare, short, single-syllabled chuckle of his that made you just wanna bear ninety-nine of his babies. But unfortunately, this little space-face-press shenanigans would pardon him from depriving her auditory needs to hear more of Mimi Mirage’s Planet Pink butchered by an esteemed member of the council, General of the 104th Battalion, and Jedi Master of great tenure and importance.

“Sing, old man.”

You whined with a pout — to which you then blushed from Plo Koon’s response of pushing the tip of his thumb between your parted mouth to shut you up. After all, you asked him to sing and you best listen. With a sigh of defeat and amusement in one, he dipped his thumb further enough to feel an earnest tongue brush onto the pad of his digit.

You hear an evenly rare grunt that had you bite your lip as if to savor the fleeting touch that descended excruciatingly slow down your chin and delicately along the column of your throat.

Flustered beyond recognition, you feel the heat pool between your legs as his tone takes a chasmic turn. Spurs slithered along the expanse of your neck until he had collared his hold around you with a verily gentle and mindful squeeze. The gesture merited an sultry groan of approval and encouragement, accompanied by an elevated hissing sound from your smaller frame.

“Must I say the words, little love?”

You were too intoxicated to respond that all you could was a well-surrendered hum.

“I….”

In spite of the nearly losing all inhibition with the faintest of force applied over your neck, you draw your sight back as if to peer through the decorative holes of his protective eye-wear and gaze upon the windows of his soul. Your heart quickened further, anticipation built on the very hill you’ve silently swore to die on for this make or break turn of events.

Has the day come for him to finally say it?

You whispered the very words you’ve often given him, the endless ‘I love you’s’ that were often replied with “I knows” and “thank yous”. Days when you’d want to wring his neck or stuff him inside your pocket and whisk him away from the Order — days unlike today where he knew exactly what to say to make it all better. To make all the pain go away and allow herself to redemption to start anew. Today, he said the words… to Mimi Mirage’s Pink Planet in the perfect key and timing.

“I wanna be your dream girl I’m gonna be your dream girl”

Plo distangles himself from you, his hand cupping his antiox mask with a hearty laugh before rubbing his temples and taking a seat on the couch beside the bed.

Nothing in this world would have made you feel better and would have rid you of the storm that brewed in your apartment for weeks than to hear your favorite three-hundred and eighty-four year-old Kel Dor Jedi utter the words “I wanna be your dream girl, I’m gonna be your dream girl.”

The room was soon an echo of you laughing so hard you wept a little. Then complained that your cheeks stung and that your stomach felt knotted from having to crease up. You’ve also boldly asked him to sing more of it — of which he politely declined, responding of talks of copyright and apprehension in jest.

As you simmer down and the minutes turn to hours of light conversation, you sigh and ready yourself for a nap. It had been such an exhausting week and with sleep finally blessing her with attendance, she turned to his side and momentarily watched him in his meditative state. With a yawn and a kiss to the little one (Plo-plushie), your eyes grow heavy.

Part of you wanted to wake him up and confess what it was that had gotten you down this rabbit hole of misery, paranoia, anxiety, and immense sadness, but you weren’t his burden to bear. You weren’t anyone’s burden to bear.

Your eyes finally submit, once more enveloped in darkness as your voice fades to a whisper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I just don’t know where home is anymore, Plo. I don’t know where you are in my life anymore either. But you don’t have to know that…”

Unbeknownst to you, Plo knew exactly what the answer was.

And just as you have drifted to the land of dreams, his hand hovers over yours, light enough to touch but never wake you.

“Right here.” He says.

“Right here.”

NPT. @saengak @amorfista @eyecandyeoz @kimiheartblade @t3mpest98 @starrrgazingbunny @exosorcery @eloquentmoon @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows @daddycephalopod @quiglettt @mild-disorganization @reader6898 @matookahitaki @ghostperson69 @notthestarwar @sev-on-kamino @sofir-kefir @veny-many @daimyosprincess @pickleprickle @baufraus @bobaprint @storm89 @arcsimper5 @what-i-meant-to-say @keebeees @omaano

#♝#dukeoftheblackstar #plo koon #plo koon x reader #plo koon x you #plo koon fic #plokoon #plo koon/reader #plokoon/reader #plokoonfic #plokoon/you #ρℓσ∂υ¢н #plo koon ficlet #plo koon x oc #plo koon/oc #there's a very handsome hubby-material Kel Dor Jedi Master General in there bearing gifts if you look really hard ♥

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herald-of-aurene · 3 months ago

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[@sunsrefuge] hi kieran!! can i ask 🌺, 🎹, 🎯, 🍎, & 🧠 for Myxxi? ♥

Ahh thank you for the ask Sable ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Yes! Zojja! Myxxi and Zojja met in the college of synergetics. While Myxxi was known for her seemingly endless thirst for knowledge, Zojja was well known for her genius, and they quickly developed a rivalry, which developed into a situationship of sorts. While Myxxi yearned for more, Zojja was content with what they were at the time.

That all changed when HoT rolled around and they both almost died in the blighting pods. Together, they were both placed in the same recovery room at Rata Sum, and Zojja realized that she loved Myxxi, and didn't want to lose her. And Myxxi? Well, she didn't wanna waste her time waiting for someone who might never love her back. When Zojja tried to talk to her, Myxxi put it simply, and refused to hear anything else about it. "I don't need your pity, Zojja."

When Myxxi disappeared, the two of them held onto how they felt until the two of them met again in Soto. After more pain they eventually worked it out.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Myxxi enjoys writing! While she likes doing papers for her work just fine, its actually fiction she enjoys the most. I like to think she publishes under a fake name and goes 😬 when she hears people talk about it.

🎯 -What do they do best?

hmm, the easy answer has been repeated, but she has a almost endless storage to keep the stuff she learned in. But aside from that, i think she excellent in adapting her magic into different situations

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

It was great! they encouraged her her love for learning since she was a baby, and her mischievousness. While both of her parents were amazing with creating new thinks that no one else had thought of, Myxxi's strength was with her ability to store new information and mix that together. She always fell short when it came to inventing. That and her lack of magic was why she couldn't fight until she was imbued with chaos magic.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Ahh, while I think shes super cute, I love the sadness of her story. She always felt like she fell short (ha) no matter what, and was always peoples second choice. She always chose to repress and avoid to deal with her emotions pushing away those who love her, which is what leads her to almost sacrifice her memories with the Wizards to avoid her past. I like thinking of how she'll be able to grow and heal from her mental health and trauma from Thaumanova

#guild wars 2 #asura #oc: professor Myxxi

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perotovar · 1 year ago

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into the beat of the night (ch 8) "deeper and deeper"

moodboard by me

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: E (18+) content: pegging, unprotected (fake) p in a, fingering, use of plugs, lots of lube, male masturbation, one (1) handjob, (brief) oral (m receiving), D/s dynamics, dom!river, sub!frankie, petnames (baby, good boy, honey, etc), aftercare, if i missed anything else lmk! word count: 5.7k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario (ily ♥)

main masterlist | series masterlist

for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifs ♥

It’s 9pm and the sound of Phil Collins’ voice is just loud enough for Frankie to hear in the mostly-empty grocery store. It sort of drove him nuts because he liked this song, but it wasn’t loud enough for him to truly appreciate it.

He ignored it in favor of looking over the list of things River asked him to get.

– cat litter

– jonsey’s food

– long grain rice

– tea

pick up a snack for yourself, too, handsome! ♥

He smiled at River’s handwriting and thought back to the first time he saw it. He still has that note that reads “Text me?” hidden away somewhere.

Things have been… really good lately. Despite the Event at the mall, and what transpired afterwards, Frankie and River have been really comfortable. River’s even taken to working out more to get their mind off of things. Frankie’s been reaping the benefits, and he’s having a hell of a time keeping his hands off their newly defined physique. Not that River is complaining, of course.

The only problem is that Frankie’s been craving something… specific. And River isn’t exactly… equipped for what he wants.

Standing in the middle of the aisle of cat food, with Genesis playing faintly somewhere behind him, Frankie stared at the different cans all promising to have different health benefits for your furry friend. He doesn’t know how long he’s been zoned out, thinking about a dick in his ass, until someone, probably the only other customer in the store, sped by him with their cart and startled him out of his thoughts.

Frankie cleared his throat, cheeks flushed, and looked back at River’s list. He double checked the correct brand of food and tossed a few cans into his shopping basket. He tried to shake himself off as he walked further down the aisle to get some litter, as well.

When he made it to the self-checkout, he rang up his items as quickly as he could. The bored teenager keeping watch of the registers barely realized he was there until the rhythmic beeping started. While the ancient self-checkout system crawled to the payment screen, his eyes drifted to the magazines next to him. His eyes landed on a celebrity he can’t remember the name of right now and felt a flush creep up his neck.

The man was gorgeous, an actor he thinks, with chiseled features and a thick beard. He sighed and shut his eyes briefly. The register finally beeped and he snatched his receipt from the printer, grabbing his bags and quickly left the store.

The entire drive back to River’s apartment he tried to calm his dick down.

He’s very happy in his relationship. Very secure. He loves River, and doesn’t want anyone else in his life.

But god dammit, he wants someone inside him.

Jonsey chirped below him as he boiled some noodles on River’s stovetop. He looked down and smiled, the fluffy cat rubbing his body against Frankie’s pajama-covered leg. “Hey,” he cooed quietly, crouching down to scritch at Jonsey’s face. Jonsey purred happily and got comfy on the kitchen floor behind him.

Frankie snorted and turned back to his noodles boiling in the pot. River was hanging out with a few friends at The Night Owl tonight. Frankie wanted them to go have fun with their friends because they deserved it. They’d been going through a lot and deserved to get their mind off things.

His phone lit up on the counter next to him, the sight of River sticking their pierced tongue out at him making him smile. He set his chopsticks down and rinsed his hands before picking up his phone

made it! anya hasn’t shut up about benny once, pls help 😩

Frankie laughed and started typing back.

Change the subject ?

i wish. ray has been flirting with everyone he talks to. says he’s looking for “the one” lol

Ray was another close friend of River’s. He was tall, had dark skin, and short cropped hair. Frankie saw three dots, and then a selfie of the three of them smiling with their drinks appeared.

Frankie’s face softened at how happy River looked with their friends. He exhaled a heavy breath, feeling a little bad for his earlier thoughts. Ever since She Who Shall Not Be Named showed up, every time they’ve gotten intimate, Frankie’s been putting all his focus on River and their needs.

He’s more than happy to do so, that’s not the problem.

He’s just got an itch that needs scratching.

He set his phone down so he could stop his noodles from burning and drained out the water. Once he was sitting back on the couch, his bowl of ramen in his lap, and Jonsey napping on the couch next to him, he started typing back to River.

He’ll find them, I’m sure. Now, go have fun, ok ?

yes sir :p love you

Frankie smiled like a fucking dork at his phone and quickly typed up a response.

Love you too, mi rio 😍

Ever since River “accidentally” let that slip, they’ve been saying it more and Frankie got butterflies every time. He’d never gotten that way with Jackson. At least, not to this level, anyway.

It didn't take long for Frankie to finish up his dinner and clean up his dishes, so he grabbed his laptop from his bag. Jonsey was passed out on the couch, curled up in a weird position, and it made Frankie snort at the sight.

With Jonsey’s food set for the night, Frankie made his way into River’s bedroom and got comfy. Stripped down to his boxer briefs, he started typing in the name for his favorite porn site for this particular craving he’d been having: Love Bites. It was the only site that had his favorite actor, this gruff guy that always played construction workers or plumbers. It was a cliche, but it worked for him.

Seeing that a new video was posted for him, Frankie got excited, already feeling his cock start to twitch in his underwear. And it was a long one, too. “Perfect,” he whispered, lying down on his back to get comfy.

With his laptop laying on the mattress next to him, he pressed play and groaned when he saw the gruff guy and the hot mustached one making out heavily on a couch, shirts in a heap on the floor. He yanked his underwear down and gripped his cock in a big hand, pumping slowly. It didn’t take long once he saw Mustache pull out the gruff guy’s cock and stroke him steadily. Frankie’s cock twitched in his palm, he matched his pace with the video.

His free hand traveled up his torso until his fingertips started tweaking a nipple, making him moan into the quiet room. The scent of River’s cologne; cloves, bergamot, and sandalwood, covered every inch of their bedsheets, and it went right to Frankie’s head. He sped up his hand a little, then stopped himself, squeezing the base of his cock. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

One of the two men in the video moaned out loud, catching Frankie’s attention. He shivered as he watched the gruff guy grunt and groan into the other’s ass and slap the side of one of his thighs. He let go of his cock and let it throb between his legs, imagining himself in the mustached guy’s place, while he wet two of his fingers as liberally as possible.

He turned onto his side and circled his own puckered rim with his wet fingers and moaned weakly, gripping the base of his cock again. He watched the video closely and started fucking himself with his fingers at the same pace of the gruff guy’s hips as he fucked into the other man roughly.

“Oh, hello,” River smirked, crossing their arms over their chest as they stood in the doorway to the bedroom.

Frankie startled and moaned, looking at River with flushed cheeks.

“Explains why you didn’t get my text. Thought you were asleep, but this is much, much more interesting,” they purred, stalking over to Frankie in his vulnerable state. They ran painted fingernails over his flushed and sweaty skin with mock concern. Frankie looked up at them with glossy eyes, the filthy, obscene sounds of two men fucking almost too loud in the tense air. “Do you need help, my love?” River grinned wolfishly, running the fingers of their free hand through his messy curls.

Frankie gulped and nodded, body still contorted in an uncomfortable position. “P-please,” he breathed.

River hummed contentedly and crawled into the bed behind him. “Stay there,” they said softly and curled their fingers around his throbbing cock, rubbing the head with their thumb. “Very good.” The praise dripped out of them easily and it made Frankie blush even harder. River started stroking him in time with the rhythm of the video in front of them and punctuated each stroke with a kiss to his bare shoulder, or behind his ear, or on the side of his neck.

Frankie removed his fingers from his ass and gripped onto the sheets tightly. River always knew the perfect way to touch him and it never failed to make every thought leave his brain. He felt cock drunk, even if he hadn’t actually been fucked yet.

“Mmm, is that what you want, baby?” River asked, kissing him on the shoulder again. The current camera angle in the video was a closeup of the younger man’s ass spread over the gruff guy’s thick cock, heavy balls slapping against his own. “Want a big, thick cock to fuck you? Hm? How deep do you want it, baby? So deep you forget your own name?”

A strangled, broken moan fell from Frankie’s lips, as his cock twitched hard in River’s hand. He tucked his face against the inside of his bicep, suddenly bashful.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” River cooed, speeding up the pace of their hand. It was completely covered in pre-cum, easing the way for them. River teased him, twisting on the upstroke, covering the head with his foreskin and slowing down. Frankie groaned in frustration, his hips bucking impatiently. River released his cock briefly to slap his ass twice in quick succession, almost like a bee sting. The cool metal of River’s rings against his overheated skin startled Frankie. “Atta boy,” River grinned, curling their fingers back around his cock. With their free hand, they ran their fingers up the column of his neck and across his lips. When River pushed their fingers into his mouth, he whined around them, cock twitching in response.

“Shh…” River cooed, deftly circling the pads of their fingers over Frankie’s lubed hole. Frankie moaned and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “You look so good for me, baby. You want me to put my fingers into this tight little asshole? Yeah?” River goaded. Another whine escaped Frankie, and they slowly pushed two fingers into his tight heat.

“F-fuck!”

River hummed and kissed along his shoulder and arm, fucking into him steadily. Frankie tipped his head back and rested it on River’s shoulder, moaning out loud. His breath hitched each time River’s fingertips brushed against his prostate. “That’s it,” River praised, stroking in time with each pump of their fingers.

Frankie’s balls started to draw up and heat flared at the base of his spine. “I’m– I’m gonna,” he panted, eyes half-lidded and mouth open obscenely.

River rubbed their thumb over the slit of his cock, glancing at the video and watched as the two men were both nearing their end. “You wanna come with them? Go ahead baby, show them how good you are and come for me, huh?”

Frankie huffed out a whine and nodded, rolling his hips in time with River’s hands before he bucked with no rhythm and came hard in thick spurts over River’s fingers and their sheets. He groaned, the aftershocks making his body tremble against River’s. They milked everything out of him and hummed appreciatively at the thick, creamy spend on their fingers. They licked them clean and sighed happily at the taste, removing the two fingers from inside Frankie and rubbed his hip lovingly.

Frankie’s body was spent. He turned and looked behind himself, panting below them as he watched the filthy scene in front of him. River, fully dressed and with a full face of makeup, licking their come-covered fingers clean. His sensitive and overstimulated cock twitched weakly at the sight.

“Stop, I can’t go again so soon,” he breathed, voice thick and wrecked. River smirked and leaned down to kiss him deeply, transferring the taste of him into his own mouth. Frankie moaned, cupping their face with one hand.

“Feeling better?” They asked against his lips, pushing the sweaty curls out of his eyes.

Frankie nodded, taking one last deep breath, and smiled shyly up at them. The video had long since ended and had reset to its thumbnail.

It all hit Frankie at once, and his face burned at the realization of what he was just caught watching. He reached over and slammed his laptop shut, hiding his face in his hands and groaning.

“What’s wrong, honey?” River frowned, rubbing Frankie’s back comfortingly. “I’m the last person that’s going to judge you for the porn you watch. I was actually going to compliment it, because I love that site,” they chuckled, trying to make him feel better.

Frankie turned back to them and peaked out from behind his hands. “You… You’re not weirded out?”

River looked at him like he insulted their mother. “What? Why would I?”

Frankie sighed and took his hands away from his face, turning to face them more comfortably. “Well, it’s… I was watching two men.”

River blinked, still lost.

“You’re not… worried?”

Just like that, it clicked for River. “Oh, honey,” they frowned, leaning over to kiss him deeply, holding the side of his face. “Of course not.”

Frankie didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway.

“I mean it. I’m not, like, offended or anything,” River said softly. “Is this something you’d want to experiment with, maybe?”

Frankie looked back up at their face. “What are you saying?” He furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’m not sure I’d be into a threesome, or-or sharing–”

River giggled, face twisted into amusement. “I wasn’t suggesting a threesome,” they snorted. “Although, that’s good to know. No, baby,” they paused. “I mean, I have a strap, and well. I’ve got a few toys you can choose from,” River smiled.

Frankie blinked, realization washing over his features. Of course River had a strap. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Oh,” he mumbled, looking down.

River bit their lip and sat up. They kicked their platforms off their feet and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Frankie, look at me. Please? C’mere.”

He looked up, cheeks flushed, and nodded. He got comfy and sat up against the headboard, covering himself with the sheets.

“Is there a reason you’re… embarrassed about this? You know you can tell me anything.”

Frankie sighed and nodded. “I know that. I just,” he gulped anxiously. “I felt bad,” he paused again, trying to find the words. “It felt like I was… I don’t know, betraying your trust? Like, if I thought about men or someone else in that way, then it would–”

“Like you didn’t want to be with me anymore?” They offered quietly, a little bit of nerves in their tone.

“Right. B-but I don’t! I love you, Río, very much,” he said pleadingly, his eyes big and round. “I love you so much it worries me sometimes.”

River smiled and looked down. “I know. I love you, too,” they said softly.

Frankie sighed in relief, and grabbed one of their hands in his own. “Good. I like making you feel good and I think maybe I…”

“Pushed your own desires to the side,” River finished. “You know you don’t have to do that with me. I love that you’ve been– well, making me feel good, but you feeling good makes me feel good, babe. I’d love to do this for you.”

“I know,” Frankie nodded. “It’s just. After, well, Her,” he grumbled bitterly.

“Yeah,” River nodded back, ending that train of thought right there. “Here,” they started, getting up from the bed and walking over to their closet. “I want to do this for you, babe.”

Frankie smiled shyly and watched as they got undressed. He paid close attention to the little details revealed as they went; a ring placed delicately on the dresser, the black bralette with its web of criss-crossed straps dropped to the floor.

“Maybe we could do this tomorrow? After you’ve had a chance to rest? I’m pretty tired myself,” they chuckled sheepishly. They reached into a drawer of their dresser and came back with a small metal object.

They crawled into the bed with him and rested the plug on his lap. They kissed up and down his neck teasingly, whispering into his skin, “I want you to wear this for a couple of hours tomorrow, okay? Then you’ll have no choice but to think about what I’m going to do to you afterwards.”

Frankie shivered and moaned quietly, gripping the plug tightly in his fist. “Y-yes,” he nodded, eyes fluttering shut. His oversensitive cock twitched beneath the sheets before River turned his face to kiss him deeply. They hummed into it, before pulling away and pressing a small peck to his cheek. “I’m gonna go take my makeup off, and then we’re gonna go to sleep, okay?” River smirked, rubbing his flushed cheek with their thumb.

Frankie nodded obediently, face open and honest. He watched them leave the room and laid down on the pillow beneath him.

He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

Frankie followed River’s instructions to the letter, the first couple of hours of the day spent with the plug tightly inside him. River had a meeting with a coworker in the morning, so they gave him express orders to not touch himself until they got back to the apartment.

He was good and listened, but it was agony. All of his focus was on the object in his ass and River was right, because all he could think about was what they would do to him when they got home.

Frankie was completely zoned out on the couch in River’s living room by the time they walked in the door. He startled out of his thoughts and turned to look at them and groaned at what he saw.

They looked incredible. They wore a sheer top underneath a cropped blazer, a short layered skirt with a sheer panel over top, and thick chunky platform shoes. River set their bag down and looked at the bulge at the front of Frankie’s jeans. They grinned and made their way over to him, holding out a hand.

“Come with me, baby boy.”

Frankie followed like an eager puppy.

River pushed him onto the mattress and climbed into his lap. They attached their mouth to his neck and grinded their hips against his own. River’s weight on his lap pressed the plug against his prostate in such a way that made his entire body shiver. He squeezed his grip on their hips, silently asking them to slow down so he wouldn’t come right away. His cock was hard and leaking already, just the thought of what River had planned for him made his head spin.

“Have you been good?” River breathed into his mouth, kissing him deeply. Frankie nodded dumbly, focused completely on their lips. River hummed happily and pushed him down onto his back, sitting on his stomach comfortably.

Slowly, River kissed down his neck, chest, and stomach until they were face to face with the front of his jeans. They sat on the floor between his spread legs, eyeing his cock beneath the tight denim, and teasingly undid them, pulling the material down his thighs. They grinned as it sprang back and quietly slapped against his lower tummy.

Frankie blushed, resting his head onto the pillow underneath him. He hadn’t used a plug in a long time. It was foreign, but it felt familiar, too. He was so hard, the throbbing of his cock distracted him from focusing on anything.

“Look at this,” River grinned, kissing up his inner thighs before taking the head of his cock into their mouth. They moaned at the taste and bobbed their head slowly, eyes shutting in bliss at the weight of him on their tongue.

“F-fuck,” Frankie whined, curling his fingers into the sheets tightly. He lifted his knees up, spreading his legs wider to show them the plug he was wearing. It had a clear gem at the base, making his hole look like a little present.

River lifted their mouth off of him, an obscene little suck seeming to echo in the quiet room. “Mmm,” they purred appreciatively. They stood, eyes locked between his lifted, spread thighs and confidently walked to the closet.

Frankie’s heart was pounding, blood rushing in his ears as it traveled down to his cock. He waited patiently, a thin layer of perspiration dotting his hairline. When River came back into his periphery, they were completely naked save for the leather harness around their hips, a thick, average length cock attached at the front. He stared, eyes roving over the defined Adonis belt of their waist before traveling up their torso and landing on their face.

River dug into the bedside table and grabbed a small bottle of lube before making their way back to the end of the bed between his legs. “Baby, look at me, please,” they smiled, gently rubbing his knee.

Blinking, Frankie released his legs and looked up at them while they coated their cock with a generous amount of lube. He didn’t look down, because they didn’t say he could yet, but just the image of River’s arm moving in such an obscene way, on themself, had him shivering.

“Do you remember the rules, honey?”

Frankie nodded, gulping to himself. “G-green means go, yellow means slow down, and red means stop.”

“Good boy,” River grinned, two lube-covered fingers teasing the stretched rim around the plug he was wearing. Frankie gasped at the temperature difference, his cock twitching in anticipation. He wondered if he should shave a little before they did this, but River assured him that they liked him hairy. They would be gentle with him, and he knew that. “I’m going to remove it now, okay?”

Frankie nodded, watching as the fake cock swung between their legs. They looked so comfortable like this. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought that they were actually born with one.

River tugged on the base of the plug gently, drizzling a little extra lube to ease the way. Frankie’s eyes rolled back at the feeling and arched his back off the mattress. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, thighs trembling on either side of them.

“Shh,” River cooed, rubbing a smooth thigh as they removed the plug. They watched as a clear trickle of lube oozed out of his stretched hole, making them shiver in response. “Good boy.”

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing. He’d come untouched exactly once before in his life and he was about twenty years younger with his first real girlfriend. Not that he thought River would be upset with him, but he wanted this to last. He’d been waiting too long for this to happen again.

Two of River’s fingers rubbed teasingly at his stretched rim before slowly entering him. He gasped out loud, eyes opening wide. “Too fast?” River asked, stopping midway.

“N-no, don’t stop, just–” he breathed, chuckling shyly. His cheeks flushed a deep red color as he made eye contact with them. “I don’t wanna come yet.”

River smiled wolfishly and set a slow, steady rhythm with their fingers. “And you think I’d be done with you after you came just once?”

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut, clinging desperately to his last shred of composure. Their fingers felt so good, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “R-Riv, please,” he begged.

“Oh, alright,” River chuckled, crawling onto the bed between his legs. “We’ll start slow. And if you come, I’m certainly not going to complain.”

Frankie moaned, heart pounding steadily in his ears. “You’re going to kill me, you know.”

River kissed him lazily, feeling him relax. They curled their fingers around their fake cock and teased the head at his entrance, the lube squelching a little. Frankie shivered at the sound before he nodded against their lips, giving them his consent to continue.

The first push in made all the breath in Frankie’s lungs leave at once, forcing him to gasp against River’s mouth. It had been a long time since he was on the receiving end of this sort of thing and while River wouldn’t really feel it, he couldn’t help clenching down hard.

River cupped his face as they got up on their knees properly, slowly easing all the way in until their thighs were flush against the backs of his. Frankie breathed hard, back arched off the bed.

“Y-yellow,” he panted, cock twitching and streaking pre-come down the side of his stomach.

They nodded and let him adjust.

“Hang on, I think--” Frankie groaned, shifting a little more. River smiled and rubbed his sides soothingly.

“Will you fuck me from behind?” Frankie looked up at River, his eyes practically sparkling with need. His lips parted, chest heaving with the effort of already being on the edge, River would do anything he asked.

They pulled out of him slowly, and Frankie rolled over, situating himself on hands and knees. River hummed appreciatively at the sight of Frankie’s cute little ass perked and ready for them. Just in case, they used a little more lube on the way in this time, holding Frankie’s hips steady.

“Color?”

“Green,” Frankie breathed in relief, leaning over to rest on his elbows with his ass in the air. “Love you,” he mumbled into the sheets.

“And I you,” River smiled, pulling out slowly before pushing back in with enough force to jerk him forward a little. Frankie grunted, brows furrowed in concentration and lips parted obscenely.

They started off slow, but hard, for a bit and before either of them realized it, River had set a steady pace, properly fucking into him. “Such a good boy,” River panted with exertion, leaning over his sweaty back. “Asking so nicely to be fucked like this,” they punctuated their words with a particularly harsh thrust. Frankie moaned, face pressed into the bed, his fingers gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

“Say you’re a good boy, baby,” River ordered, kissing his shoulder blade.

“I’m–” Frankie whimpered, forcing his throbbing cock to calm down.

“You can do it,” River encouraged, rubbing one of his hips comfortingly while the other hand curled around his cock. They started stroking him in time with their thrusts, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and Frankie’s weak moans and whines filling the room. The air smelled like River’s cherry-flavored lube and sex and it went right to Frankie’s head.

“I’m– a good boy,” Frankie breathed, cheeks burning as he bit his lip.

“Yes you are, baby,” River grinned, letting go of his cock to plant one foot onto the mattress and fuck into him deeper.

Frankie’s head hung low between his shoulders as his body jerked forward with each of River’s thrusts. The sensations were all-consuming, every nerve ending crackled with barely contained energy. His moans were ragged, and River’s fingers dug into his sweat-slick skin. .

Suddenly, River hit somewhere inside him that made him see stars, making him throw his head back. “Fuck! Fuck,” he trembled. “Riv, I’m gonna–”

“Let go, baby,” River purred, gripping onto each side of his narrow waist as they drove into him. They watched the toy fucking into Frankie’s tight hole, the rim stretching obscenely.

“W-wanna look at you,” Frankie breathed, turning his head back to try and see them.

River slowed down and pulled out gently. The air left Frankie’s lungs at the feeling, making his trembling body fall to the side. His cock was painfully hard, all red and leaking. “C’mere,” River soothed, turning him onto his back. He reached out for them, and River moved between his thighs, sliding back into him.

Frankie moaned happily, wrapping his legs around their trim waist. River kissed him deeply, picking back up where they left off, hitting his prostate on every other thrust. His short nails dug into River’s back, scratching in pleasure. Frankie was a mess, panting hotly into River’s mouth, eyes closed in bliss.

“I’m gonna come,” Frankie whispered, eyes glazed over as he watched their focused face. He looked between their bodies, the steady rhythm of River’s hips hypnotizing him.

“Come for me,” River panted against Frankie’s cheek. It didn’t take much convincing after that, Frankie’s body jerking and trembling with his release. River matched the waves of his orgasm with slow thrusts, prolonging it just a little more for him.

The sounds leaving Frankie’s body sounded foreign to his own ears, but he felt so much lighter and every thought or doubt in his mind was gone. It was the same way he felt when he flew.

“Did so good, baby,” River praised, resting him gently onto his back as they pulled out. Frankie felt empty and clenched around nothing, his hole stretched and sensitive. He was sticky and hot and completely content.

Frankie hummed like a happy, purring cat, and grinned up at them as they smiled down at him. “You’re amazing,” he said drunkenly.

River snorted and leaned down to kiss him and nip at his chin a couple times.

“Now you,” he said tiredly, but full of determination.

“No, you need a nap first,” River chuckled, crawling off the bed to unhook the harness. There were faint indents where the straps had been, and he watched them saunter into the bathroom.

When they came back, it was with a damp washcloth to clean him up. His body was too heavy and tired and sated for him to protest. His eyelids got heavier the longer he laid there and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

Frankie woke to the sound of water running. His heavy eyelids drooped a few times before they opened to an empty bedroom. He frowned, blinking as he looked around for River.

He faintly heard the sounds of Tori Amos’ voice coming from the bathroom and smiled. His tired body moved slowly, but then he was leaning against the doorframe, watching as River cleaned the toy they’d used on him earlier.

“Hey, cutie,” River grinned. They were still naked, with their legs crossed over the closed toilet seat as they washed the dildo, long hair like a curtain on either side of their face. They motioned to their phone so Frankie could pause the music, which he did.

“Hey,” he smiled shyly. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few minutes. Do you need anything?”

Frankie shook his head. He was fine. “A bath might be nice, though.”

River laughed lightly and nodded in agreement. “I’ll fill the tub.”

“Do you wanna join me?”

River smiled as they turned the knob. “Of course.”

They both settled in the tub, after Frankie insisted that River sit between his legs so he could hold them. River grabbed one of his large hands and played with his fingers, comparing the size difference. Frankie’s hands were strong, with years of military training and calluses to prove it. River’s were thinner, with only a couple of calluses from their drawing tools.

“How are you feeling?” They asked softly.

Frankie hummed as he thought about it. “Sore,” he chuckled. “But good. Really good. Thank you.”

River smiled. “Anytime. And I mean it,” they rested their head on his chest, turning slightly so they could look at him. “Seriously. You can always tell me if you’re feeling like switching things up.”

Frankie laughed and kissed their cheek. “I’ll remember.”

“Good.”

Silence settled over them comfortably, the only sounds in the room from one of Frankie’s legs lifting out of the water to rest on the edge of the tub. He started kissing down the side of their neck tenderly, then latching onto an earlobe to nibble gently.

“You’re insatiable,” River giggled, feeling ticklish.

“Never got to repay the favor,” he grumbled low in his chest, one hand coming up to tweak one of their nipples while the other moved lower down their stomach.

“Frankie, you don’t–”

“Shh,” Frankie protested softly, his hand moving down between their legs to tease their clit. River’s legs fell open easily, a soft moan leaving their lips. His middle finger moved in gentle circles around the nub and they melted into his arms.

River’s eyes shut as they let him do what he wanted, their arousal still very much present from before. It didn’t take much for Frankie’s two middle fingers to make their way inside them, fucking steadily. The water splashed around the movement of his hand, making River shudder.

Frankie sucked a dark mark in an open spot around a tattoo on River’s shoulder as his thumb rubbed at their clit.

“Shit,” River gasped, blunt nails digging into Frankie’s thigh and the edge of the tub simultaneously. That was the only warning Frankie got before their body went taut as they came around his fingers, hips rolling with the waves of the water.

Frankie hummed appreciatively and removed his fingers as they came down. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, turning their face so he could kiss them properly. River exhaled into the kiss, melting.

“Sneaky,” they breathed against his lips, and Frankie laughed.

“I have my moments.”

When they pulled apart, River planted one more kiss on his cheek before cuddling close. The water was getting cold, but they didn’t want to move just yet.

Frankie massaged their hips where the harness had laid, making River smile.

“Y’know,” River started. “Might let you try that sometime.”

“Try what, Río?” He hummed, fingers soothing River’s tender flesh.

“Fucking my ass. It’s been a long time since someone did that.”

Frankie froze, hands gripped onto their hip bones. His exhausted cock gave a valiant twitch against their back.

River laughed lightly and shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. We’ll see.”

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