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sonicblueartist · 2 years ago

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【LET'S DANCE, Part 3】

AO3 LINK Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist

First person point of view

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: Yes || No

Pairings: Various x F!Reader

A/n: Does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Word Count: 4811

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐍❕️

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

✎ ''Flying? With a plane?" I sighed uneasily.

"Of course, what else did you expect to fly with?" Sonic joked, chuckling slightly.

I laughed nervously, "Yeah, sorry, that... That was ridiculous of me."

Sonic and Tails got up from bed and walked to the center of the room, "Don't sweat it! You can't imagine what this kid can do! He's the best pilot and mechanic I've ever known."

Tails shyly scratched his cheek, "I'm not that good but thanks Sonic." He smiled at him. Sonic winked back. I smiled at their relationship.

I glanced at my feet and exhaled, pushing myself off of the bed. I followed the two out of the room while ignoring the aching on my body. I was questioning myself as to whether I had made a good choice.

As I passed through the corridor, I realized it didn't have the same aura I felt before. It's brighter and more spacious. Now it felt soothing and serene. More home-like...

My body relaxes a little bit at the sight.

That's not the only thing I noticed, however, there were a lot of frames hanging on the walls, each having different places and people in it. Most of them had Tails and Sonic. Some had just landscapes and some were filled with many different faces that I couldn't recognize.

Sonic stopped next to me, gazing at the photos. He looks nostalgic with a small smile on his face. He put his hands on his hips and sighed, somewhat proud.

I whisper to myself, "God, How many places have you traveled to? I wish I was more like you." I chuckled, "I don't really like leaving the house. I am not a social butterfly. Exploring isn't my thing either." I confessed.

Sonic laughed, "It's something I'm used to. I always like to run around. I never once thought to sit for a sec. How could I? It makes me feel so free, so alive. I'm always open to exploring new places. If there is left any." He chuckled, "And the adventures they bring... every one of them is priceless." Sonic put a hand on my shoulder and give me a small squeeze.

I laughed, "Your friends are in real trouble then." I joked.

He grinned widely, "Ohh you bet, A massive trouble it is, you wouldn't even guess." He put his thumbs on his chest, "Your friend here is a real danger magnet!" Oh, so he had a goofy side. I can get used to this.

I gasped and jokingly shove his arm, "Don't try to involve me in such adventures. I would rather sit at home and do nothing instead of playing russian roulette with you."

He grimaced, "You're old. You should try to go out a little and see some faces. Even at the worst moment, you can find a side to have fun with." He made his voice sound like an author being a mentor.

I couldn't help but start laughing, "W-what?" I wheezed out, "I'm old?''

He snickered, "Yes, very old. Imma calls ya Granny."

I shove his body, ''Oh, Shut up. You are old." I couldn't stop my laughing fit now.

"Oh, yeah?" He starts to laugh as well.

You hold your chest, "Y-yeah! The one type who always travels around and looks after their grandkids!"

He grasp his chest, "I think I'm going to have a heart attack now." he whined dramatically.

Tails intervened chuckling, "Guys, I thought we are going to my workshop."

I was puzzled, "You have a workshop?"

"Yeah, of course, he has a workshop. He's a little genius with double fluffy tails, wearing a white coat working on weird tubes like a mad scientist!... Just joking, he always spends his time helping others fix their things or helping us win against Eggman with his incredible inventions. His heart is as big as his IQ." he quickly change his dramatic sentence when he saw the face Tails made.

Sonic choked, "Too much?"

Tails uncrossed his arms, "Too much."

I try to hold my laugh.

I try to be genuine, "Wow, that's really... big Tails." I didn't want to somehow offend him... again?

He smiled and shook his head, "I am just doing what I can."

We walk into the living room, Vanilla was standing in the middle looking straight at Sonic's eyes, she seems on the edge, "She can't go yet. She still needs some rest." she sounded troubled. Her arms crossed on her chest.

Cream and Cheese were sitting on a sofa playing with some cards. They look up when their mother spoke sternly.

Tails try to reason with her, "I know the risks but I already made sure she is fine, I showed you the checkups, and she doesn't seem to have any physical damage. She will be fine with us. We promise nothing will going to happen to her. Besides, you know we won't take her out if this isn't urgent." He pleads.

Sonic interrupted, "We'll make sure of it. She is not going to leave my sight I promise." he walk in with a reassuring smile.

Vanilla thought for a few seconds and sighed, "Okay, fine. She can go."

Sonic and Tails grin at each other with victory.

"But she is going to move to my house for a week after your little adventure. I want to make sure she is well-rested. You better come back with her safe and sound. Understood?"

I feel touched by her kindness but...

Why can't I make my own choices? Besides, aren't we agreed to find my home after this all ends? I thought I would finally see my family after whichever door I am key to they want opens... or broken?

On the other hand... Maybe I wouldn't mind staying a little bit more with them. I never experienced this much weird stuff in one day. Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

Cream lit up, "Yes! We can make carrot or chocolate cake together!" her chao agree with her. I smile at her sweetness.

Sonic and Tails look disappointed for a second but cover it with a smile. They nodded in agreement without any more words. I continue to think about my life choices.

"I'm going back to my house now. I will be waiting for her. I trust you two and Knuckles to keep her safe. Good luck. Come on Cream, Cheese." They drop the cards and slide down on the sofa to walk toward their waiting mother.

Cream waved at us and we waved back.

"Don't worry we will," Sonic reassured.

Vanilla smiled at them. She glanced back at me and I quickly smiled.

Before she leave with her daughter and their chao, she walks up to me and gently hold my shoulders, "If you don't feel well tell Tails immediately, don't shy away, he will bring you straight to me, Alright? I want you to be comfortable and healthy." she spoke kindly. Tails confirmed with a thumbs up and a warm smile.

I was speechless. I was only able to nod. Her smile grows and she leaves with her daughter.

Cream waves at us before they get out of the door and start walking away. I wave back with a small smile.

After waving at Cream, Tails didn't close the door and he turned towards us, "I am going to my workshop. I need to check on the Tornado to see if it needs any more repairs. After I do my final checks, we can go."

Sonic followed Tails outside, "You do your thing bro. Our little guest can come with you too. I'm going on a run to kill some time until then." I nodded following Tails.

I look back towards his home. Neither Sonic nor Vanilla is in sight. If that is, Sonic must be a really fast runner. I chuckled to myself.

I also notice Tails' house is the shape of his head, "Wow, nice... design?"

"You mean the exterior of my house?"

"Yeah," I spoke still looking back towards his house, examining.

"Thanks! You can say I kind of get it from someone..."

We turn another direction, I was no longer able to see his home.

I look back at him, and he looked kinda apathetic, "You mean like... you took it from your father kind of get it like genes or are you inspired by someone?" I spoke uneasily.

He looks around, "...I... no. Uh, the inspiration part." He seems to don't know what else to say.

I quickly change the topic, feeling guilty that I made him upset again, "Well, you do have a nice, cozy home. I like what you did. The colors suit the house... I mean it's you after all. You made it really good? I don't have any clue how but-- Uh... Sorry. I am not good with compliments." I stop myself from babbling. I am screwing this up. Why am I always saying nonsense beyond my fragile heart's understanding.

He smiled, "It's fine. You don't need to say anything." Yeah, I should shut up.

Our walk was quiet after that. A little bit awkward because of me...

A few hours ago I was running away from them. Now I am thinking how bad am as a person for opening sensitive topics without noticing. How stupid. We just met and I feel like I've already interfered with his whole life. It must have been very uncomfortable for him.

I take a sharp breath, I need to apologize.

"I'm sorry." We both look at each other stunned.

I chuckled nervously, "It's not your fault Tails. I was the one who couldn't stop my big mouth. It kinda stuck you know. I didn't mean to upset you. I- I am sorry." I huffed and shut up. I didn't know why I see the need to talk a lot. Whatever I do, I always have a lot on my mind especially when I am stressed. I just talk a lot to shut off my thinking and blank my mind.

When I think of them the most my head just starts to swarm with questions and worries. The one bothers me a lot is that, If I live on Earth all my life how did I never notice their existence? How have I never run across anything about them?

"You space out a lot too, huh?"

I blinked and look back at him, figuring he said something. I smile sheepishly, "Sorry. Can you repeat?"

He smiled, "I said, It's fine. I sometimes babble a lot too. Mostly when it's the things I like to do. What I mean is, it's okay, don't stop questioning. Please don't ever feel bad about yourself. I think it's a good feature. To think a lot. You just need to see the good it gives you. And I am not upset. I understand you are curious. I can see you don't have any clue about us or our species. That's odd because it should be impossible if you live all your life here." He thought out loud. You smiled relieved.

He glanced at you and mumbled to himself, "Especially that you felt major pains but I still couldn't find anything wrong with your body."

He looks down, "I should keep an eye on this." He whispered, suspicious.

We come to a stop in front of a building. It was as big as his house maybe a little bigger. And it was painted yellow and red too.

Tails open the door and smiled, "Don't tell anyone, but..." he lean towards you, whispering in a childish manner, "This is not exactly my workshop. I have a lot of workshops in separate places. It was for safety reasons. Anyway, come on in!"

He gives me some space to enter. I walk in with a smile, and he closes the door behind me. The lights were already open. It wasn't very spacious because of all the tools and mechanical things around. His Inventions, I remind myself.

There is also a red biplane in the middle. A red shiny biplane!

I turned to him pointing towards the plane, "You have a biplane." It was supposed to be a question but it came out as a shocking sentence, I was too stunned to speak properly. He owns a plane? He can fly? In this age? Does he know how to use it? Does he know how to repair it?! He owns a plane! My mind just couldn't grasp the situation and stopped working for a second from all this new information in a day.

I never saw a plane this close and somewhere like this before! I only saw passenger planes from afar at the airport!

Tails couldn't help but laugh at your expression, "Yep." He popped the 'p'.

I slowly walked around the plane in awe.

"You own a red plane." My mind was just blown I guess I am repeating things.

He laughed, "Yes, I have a red biplane. Are you like the color I did so much? Or are you simply couldn't believe I have a plane?" He joked.

I turn to him, "Please don't tell me you made this thing without a scratch. It is supposed to be illegal to own a plane at your age! I don't even know if it's illegal to own a plane in general!!" I shouted in shock.

He hummed in agreement while opening its lid, "No big deal, really. I already recognize it's every piece like a puzzle now. It always broke down during our adventures and I need to repair it again. And no I didn't make it Sonic gave me. He never told me why he had a plane in the first place." he spoke monotonously.

"So you did make it?" I need to stop repeating him...

"Uh... no. I only repair and modify it sometimes. It's Sonic's. He gives it to me..." He simply answered you again. He doesn't seem to bother about why are you acting weird.

"What kind of adventures make you see the need to repair it so much? That you literally memorize it's... everything." Now I am just going to look stupid in his eyes.

He walks towards his work table, picks up some tools, and started to sort out, "Armed robots, flying ships, some gems that can give powerful energy to anything, so you can think what would happen if they are in the hands of bad people. Also, they blow out my plane in so many ways I lost count..."

He start to work on the plane's engine, "This kind of adventure you need to face to blast almost all my inventions." he suck a breath, "And my friends..." he sighed.

"Oh..." I can't open my mouth after that. I bite my tongue and looked down. I wanted to ask so many questions. It's the best I shouldn't though. After seeing how bad I am making it...

What were they dealing with all this time? Is it as bad as it sounds? What's up with the gems? Who are we dealing with? Why does everything hurt? Why do I have no idea about Sonic or others? Where is exactly my home? Where is here? What's up with me being a key? What's a key? What's the door? Do anyone else is after it too? Who is Knuckles? How did they figure it out? How will this work in the end? Will there be a happy ending in the end? Is my life will be always like this? Running to save something while I am always confused? Are we gonna found a door and destroy it or open it? Where are we going? What are we gonna find? Who am I gonna met next? Can I be able to go back home? How can he know so much? Is he have a biplane?! What about Sonic, Cream, and Vanilla? I heard another voice back when I was alone in the guest room, who was he? Is he the Knuckles guy? Am I in danger? Am I doing the right thing? Should I back up since I got the chance? Am I able to see my family again? What if I die in the end fighting with a killing machine? Do I really want this? I have no real reason to do so... I was scared to die but still...something pushing me to continue...

A deep sigh ends my internal criticism. I looked up, Tails seems really upset.

"I..." he scratched his head. "I am really sorry. I didn't mean to sound so sour. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable..." he looked down, pondering.

I was going to say it's fine but he beat me to it, "How about I teach you some things? Is that okay for you?" he smiled apologetically.

I grinned, "I would like that. Please teach me. Anything is fine, really! I am pretty sure whatever gonna come from you will be useful for me in the future." I giggled excitedly with a big smile.

I run next to him. He smiled happily. He never got a chance to teach someone before. Seeing you so eager to learn makes him more excited to teach.

"It works similarly with cars. Actually, every mechanic parts use the anatomy of our bodies. Have you ever opened a hood of a car to look at the engine part?" he questioned with a smile.

I think for a few seconds, "No. I never open one myself. I only watch a few times in the back seat when dad or an auto repair man check in the car. But that doesn't help hmmm... Oh, but I did see it in the Car's Movie."

Tails raise a brow, speechless, "Okaay... At least you watch something about cars?" He spoke didn't quite catch what you are talking about.

He continues to lie on his back while he gazes at the big blue sky donated with white clouds with half-lidded optics.

He made a sound of a yawn. He wasn't tired in fact he was fully charged. He was just bored out of his circuits. He slowly sits up on the soft surface of the grass, leaning on his cannon arm.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have anything to do today except observing. Like his counterpart, he doesn't like to sit still but today was an exception. It needs to be. It's his mission. He was waiting for someone...

He crossed his legs and continue to count down the minutes. He starts to tap a digit on his leg out of boredom, creating soft metallic noises.

Hearing a faint hum, his emerald green optics turned towards the sky, spotting the flying blue dot.

His smirk widens at the sight of his brother's blue metal figure, "Finally some action." His optics switch to crimson red.

When Sonic walked in I try to wave at him but with a squeal of fright, the plane's oil start to splash on my face. Tails gasped and helped me to stop the leaking.

"Is everything alright there?" his voice sounded amused. I glare at him from the side.

Tails cleaned his hands on a cloth, "Everything seems in place. I only need to fill its depo then we can take off. It won't take long."

"Alright, you do your thing. And you come with me we are cleaning your face."

I sarcastically spoke, "I am fine like this. Thank you." I refuse his offer stubbornly.

"Yes. Thanks to me you will be fine. Trust me you don't wanna stay like that all day."

Tails snickered and lean on your side, whispering, "It will stink, beside you should go with Sonic to clean up while I full the Tornado."

I huffed, before walking away with Sonic I turned to Tails liting up like a torch, "Wait, that reminds me. Why did you call your plane Tornado?" You ask while walking toward the door next to Sonic.

Tails grinned, "I'll tell you the story when you are back." He waves at you. You try to look at him from the doorway but Sonic continues to drag you out of the workshop.

"I swear you two are like twins of some kind," Sonic grumbled.

You snickered at this, "I'm discovering new things I like. What's up with that? Wasn't you the one to say to see a few people's faces?"

He hummed, "You are right. If you learn to not stain yourself maybe I introduce you to Amy. You two would get along well."

"You should!" I chirped happily, "I would like to meet all your friends!"

Sonic chuckled nervously, "I was afraid of you saying that, but in the end, you will eventually meet all of them, I have a feeling you will."

He quickly changes the topic, "You sound really happy. Did you have fun with Tails and his interesting love for mechanics?" He raises a playful brow.

I grinned, "Yep. He's a good teacher. I hope I am a good learner also. I am sure his advice will be very useful to me... someday."

We walk into Tails' home and Sonic leads me into a bathroom. I notice he was still holding my hand, "Can you...?"

He quickly take his hand away and smiled nervously, "You can use whatever you want here. I'll be outside waiting for you."

I thumb up and he nodded, leaving.

I figure I should take a bath instead of cleaning myself with a cloth. So as quick as I can be I start to undress and take a quick shower.

Tails smile to himself and climb into the cockpit. Sonic already sitting at one of the wings. Why is go beyond my caring. If he won't fall then it's okey with me.

I stand there with my new fresh clothes probably coming out of Sonic's unused wardrobe. -He said that not me-

A sky blue hoodie with brown jeans.

I take a deep breath and walk towards the plane.

"Uh..." I stop, staring, don't know how to climb even though I watch them do it.

"Do you need a hand there?" Sonic asked uneasily, maybe a little amused too.

I shook my head stubbornly and reach out towards the cockpit, pulling my arms with a groan, I push my feet in and threw myself inside. I quickly get up and sit correctly.

I noticed the two quickly turn their heads away. They've been staring...

I quickly look down at my hands, embarrassed. I never get on a plane before! They made it look so easy. They are probably using it a lot, so it's easy for them... I had my reasons to not get in one...

Sonic coughed, "Alright, let's go!"

Tails didn't answer and jump of off the plane and run towards a table.

Sonic raises a brow, "What happend?"

Tails pick up an earphone and an mp3 player.

I look back towards Sonic, who shrugged.

He turn towards us and climbed into the plane.

He put them over your lap, "Here, it can help." he smiled.

I laughed awkwardly, "Uh... Thanks."

"Don't worry no one used them before. They are new. You can listen to whatever you want. They are yours now."

Before I can protest he turns back and starts the engine without new interceptions.

He presses a button on the plane and the garage's big doors open.

I bite my lip when the plane slowly speeds ups. Sonic grins excitedly from where he sits.

I sighed and put the earphones in. I look through the options in the mp3 player and choose one of the songs I saw as interesting.

Between the sound of the engine and the music, I heard Sonic's faint shouting excitedly. I looked up to see he was holding his hands up around the clouds. I couldn't help but smile at him.

The clouds, oh they look so much more beautiful up close. Like white cotton candy.

I sit up a little to see how the view looks. I clean my hoodie and swallow down. We are pretty high up. That was quick. I regret looking down but... the view was so beautiful...

We are pretty smoothly flying. So I can bear with this for now. I turn towards Sonic and Tails. Maybe I can trust them... They are fun, friendly, and reliable to be around...

Even if the 'adventure' we are about to face scares me, I believe I can trust them on this.

I turn back to watch the view. It was mostly single-story houses, farmhouses, fields, and plots, around in a big forest.

I turn back towards Tails, yelling a little bit because of the engine and the music, "Hey, hopefully, I am not so pushy for asking so many questions, but can you explain what are we gonna do when we arrive? I mean what do you two mean by I am some kind of a key?" I need to at least know what we are going to do.

Tails glanced back for a second, he looked towards Sonic, who is watching the horizon, "Well, Knuckles will be the best to explain it. We only look for the gate he was talking about, he saw it in his... vision. We find it, so it exists, unfortunately. But it needs a special key to open it. There is no other way in, believe me, we try everything. You can say it's kinda magical. Oh, and we are not the only ones searching for the gate. So be ready. It won't be going to be nice. That's all I can say. You need to wait a little longer for better information."

"How do you know I was the key? And you sound like talking about an object but you see I am not an object!"

"It was Knuckles who figure it out when we find you! He said it's your necklace!"

I pause and looked down at my gold chain, violet-colored crystal. I hold it in my palm, freaking out. I always thought it was fake... maybe it isn't.

I got it from a normal store of accessories for god's sake.

Sonic pipped in, "Don't worry! When I am here nothing bad will happen."

I saw Tails mutter something but couldn't make out what he said.

I huffed, "How much longer do I need to wait?"

I saw him trying to hold his smile, "Half an hour."

I groaned loudly and lean on the seat.

That's long!

You sighed looking towards the horizon. You were getting more curious about this Knuckles guy.

Knuckles grumbled under his breath, "Where are they? This shouldn't have been taking this long."

He tapped his fingers over his arm. He leans over the stone stairs he is sitting at.

"If we're late for this, Eggman will find a way to open the gate. I can't even think of a worse scenario than this. If it wouldn't for Sonic's recklessness, we would be already sealed the gate a long time ago..."

"Are you talking to yourself again, Knucklehead?"

He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, "You are calling me that too?"

The bat landed at the end of the stone stairs, with a teasing tone, "Sorry, you want me to call you handsome instead?" She put a hand on her waist.

He sighed getting up from where he sat, "Did you talk with Shadow as we speak?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I sure did." She becomes serious, "We'll be ready if anything goes wrong with the door or that girl. I already start looking for another similar crystal in case hers won't work."

"It won't be necessary I know the girl has the right crystal." He closes his eyes to recall, "I believe in my instincts."

Rouge smiled, "I know, I never hesitate to trust your instincts for a second, hon."

"Sure, you didn't." He was unimpressed.

Rouge, "But seriously. We need to talk about something."

He opens his eyes, "What?"

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

I am so sorry it takes so long for me to publish this. I wasn't sure about it for a long time.

Besides an idea or desire to write isn't coming all the time so it takes time... At least for me.

[A funny scenario from the episode that I decided to add here]

Tails: Why did you have brown jeans? You don't even like wearing pants.

Sonic, sweat dropped: It's-It wasn't mine. It's Amy's.

Tails: ...Why do you have Amy's jeans?

Sonic, notice how bad it sounded: I don't-- She just-- She probably forget it in the house!

Tails: Why didn't you give it back since?

Sonic: What do you want me to say!? I forget, okay? It got useful anyway! Look, she is wearing it! She looks happy! End of the case!

Tails: Sure...

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic characters #miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic and tails #i miss my wife tails #knuckles the echidna #knuckles chaotix #sonic and knuckles #sonic x reader #allenwrites

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Fool

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | six

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: It all spills over.

Word count: 8.8k~

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: SMUT (WE MADE IT FOLKS), thigh riding, fingering/hand job, very brief breathplay/choking, cum eating¿? Angst/emo shit (I'm so sorry i have no self control)

Notes: HI FRIENDS, wow it's been a minute. Sorry for the massive delay. For anyone wishing to start KOC, now would be the perfectly spicy chapter to do so! This chapter was Herculean. idk why. Love you guys, enjoy! x (gif credit : @djarinsgf)

“Maker,” you bemoan, shielding your face from the heavy beat of the suns.

You’ve known warmth—you were raised in warmth. This is beyond it.

It’s not just warm, it’s sweltering. The heat is oppressive, congealing the air to mist; you can barely see through it what with the sweat running into your eyes. Tall, craggy dunes line the valley of desert, trapping the planet’s hot pulse within their walls. Your steps crunch along the dry, pebbled earth as you swat at the gnats buzzing in ribbons around your head.

A muffled gurgle sounds from behind you and you slow to a halt, boots gritting into the cracked top soil.

“You doing alright back there, Munch?” you ask, craning your head to the child nestled into the carrier fashioned onto your back. A green ear pokes free from the top, and you can see the jewel of his black eyes peering at you through the gauzy cloth you draped over it. He grunts, and you give a small shrug—shifting the pack by the straps, eliciting a giggle out of him. “We can always turn back, okay? I’m not going to be mad.” Another noise, a happy coo this time, and you shimmy your shoulders again, jostling the bag playfully.

“Well, you just let me know.”

Your conversations usually unfold this way. They leave much to be desired, but you’d like to think you understand one another—in fact, you probably understand the kid more than you understand his dad.

You’ve grown close with him, you’ll be the first to admit it. You’re attached to each other. The little one has been your constant companion for these months and in some ways, you suppose he takes care of you just the same as you take care of him. The chamber of space can be lonely; it’s cold and unkindly reflective, stranding you to the echoed chain of your thoughts—but when he tugs at your hair or slobbers spittle down the front of him or crawls up into your lap to nestle into your tunic, it feels like you belong there—there on the Crest, streaming through the galaxy.

And maybe, simply, it feels good to do right by a child—as if you could make up for it somehow, within yourself. To do better than you were given.

Squinting, you raise your wrist to check the coordinates on your comm and shade a hand over the screen, blocking the glare cast onto the display. “Almost there,” you mumble, resuming your stride as you begin the last leg of the trek to the settlement you and Mando discussed that morning.

“What?” he asked, planted some paces away from you.

You hummed a curious note, glancing to him.

“What is it?”

You were trying to be small all morning—shrunken and shy, avoiding the thought and avoiding him all together. You quieted yourself, as if to not take up space, but the attempt was fruitless; of course he picked up on it – you get good at reading people on the job, he’d said – and of course he called you out on your behavior. You took a big gulp of your caf, gaze flickering down—increasingly more and more invested in the scuffs marked into the table you sat at.

“Dala,” he said pointedly, arms folding over the breadth of his chest.

Shit. Who did you think you were fooling? Playing possum with a Mandalorian?

Worrying your lip, you stood. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, just looming there across the table from you, so you paced around the deck as you rambled. “Okay, so you know how I’m still connected to the RRM channels? Well, I’ve been checking the message boards and I—there’s a settlement here out in the Wastes. It’s small and new and they’re looking for volunteers and—”

You whistled in a breath. Fuck it.

“And I want to help.”

Like the toggle of a switch, you went from having a career—having a purpose—to having nothing. And all your gratitude for the transport he’s offering couldn’t fill that empty lull that’s settled inside you.

“Would you be comfortable with letting me take the kid? I know I’m probably asking a lot—and I will fully respect whatever you decide—but I can keep him by me the whole time, I swear, I just—” You shook your head, pinching your eyes shut before sighing, “I need to be doing something. Anything.”

There was a long pause. You scratched at the torn skin around your cuticle, nervously searching the pitch of his wordless visor. He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even twitch.

“That’s fine,” he finally remarked, graveled.

You blinked, taken aback at his agreement, and all at once your fidgeting ceased and a bright grin broke out over your features in its place.

It nearly brought him to his knees.

“Wait, seriously?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of your feet and he nodded, a subtle tilt to his helm. “Maker, thank you,” you exclaimed, and without thinking you flew towards him, flinging your arms around his neck and sealing yourself to his armored frame. His arms escaped out from his chest in surprise, suspended and stiff, before falling measuredly to his sides. You could’ve been imagining it, but you swore you heard the distinct grit of his teeth grinding together under his helmet.

“Really Mando,” you beamed, pulling back to lay your eyes on him, to let him see the earnest there: you have no idea how much this means to me. “Thank you.”

You gave his shoulders a squeeze, thumbs brushing along the scratchy fabric of his cape before tearing yourself away. Swiping up your mug of caf, you wound down the corridor - airy, buoyant - back to your makeshift quarters to prepare for your outing. It took him another minute just to get his damn feet to move from the spot on the durasteel you welded him to.

Din told you to be safe.

You smiled, and promised you would.

You left the Crest before him and it was strange, surreal. For the first time, you stood in each other’s shoes, leaving Din there on his own while you set off into the world. He watched you go—you and his boy—watched you walk away into some great unknown without him.

And he didn’t like it.

He soured, somewhere in the deep of him—within that pit he called a gut, he twisted sick.

Your feet hit the ramp, dull and tinny, and it sounded like goodbye—it sounded like you leaving. It’s what it will look like when time and fate touch, and inevitability catches up with him. It’s what it will look like when he takes you home. You’ll walk out of his life, down that same ramp, and your steps will echo those same beats. You won’t look back.

And Din, with all his strength, all his unshakeable resolve—Din will let you go.

///

The encampment is settled into the shadow of a cliffside, seeking respite there from the blazing suns, the taupe of the canvas shanties camouflaging into the arid landscape. Some crawl their gaze up as you enter the village, and you offer them smiles they do not return. Others do not acknowledge your presence at all— unstirred as your footsteps sound past, their heads bound heavy towards the earth. It’s not long before a decisive voice cuts through the hush that’s claimed the settlement.

“Are you with the RRM?”

You turn and are greeted by a woman ducking out of a tent—the grey of her woven tunic browned with sand, heat collecting in her black, coiled hair.

“Yes, I’m with the Movement.” It’s not a total lie. Sure, you’re on leave, but that doesn’t discount you completely. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

With a sharp exhale like a prayer of relief, she makes her way towards you. “Where’s the rest of your division?” Her eyes narrow discerningly, flitting behind you as if expecting to spot the rear of your party trickling in.

“It’s, uh—it’s just me,” you confess, pressing your lips together in a thin smile.

She rakes a hand over her hair, over her face. The skin around her knuckles is split, the beds of her nails chalked with days of unwashed grime. “Alright,” she concedes begrudgingly, without any better option presented. “And who is this?” She nods to the child, emerging from the pack and staring curiously at her.

“This is—” You take a moment to consider it—consider the secrecy around the child, the bounties, the life on the lam. Less is more, you decide. Again, it’s not a total lie. “I’m babysitting.”

The kid grunts an emphatic patu.

You both share a look—a quirk of her dark brow, an apologetic heft of your shoulder—and she sighs. “Well, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she quips dryly with a wave of her hand, leading you into the settlement.

///

She’s coarse, this woman—Arlaani, she told you—matronly and effective. She has a calculating gaze and powerful shoulders that she holds steady as she shows you through the camp. There are lines around her eyes, carved into the curves of her mouth. She knows what you know—what all women learn: sometimes you must be hard in order to keep others soft.

You walk shoulder to shoulder, matching her long strides with your own.

“The Black Sun has taken the southern hemisphere; their numbers have only grown since the Battle of Yavin. Pirates, mercenaries, spice runners—they’ve ransacked one half of the planet and have the officials of the other half in their pocket,” she scowls. “They have stolen our land, our homes—we’re moisture farmers, mechanics, mothers and fathers. We are simple people and we have been forgotten by our government—by those who vowed to represent us, protect us.” Arlaani draws in a long breath. “We’re on our own out here in the Wastes.”

You survey the area; the lifeless ocean of rock and sand, the few scattered trees that have died on their feet—roots withering bone dry in the suns. “Why settle here if it’s so uninhabitable?”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “Because, it’s uninhabitable,” Arlaani explains. “No one robs a beggar. There is nothing in the Wastes the Black Sun wants.”

There are no buildings, no structures; the whole area is undeveloped and raw. Tents are dotted sporadically in clusters, crates of supplies and water canteens stationed every other one. Children dawdle idly, tired and overheated, leaning against boxes and posts—their bellies distended and skin parched taut. Flies land on their shins, on their cheeks. They do not go to shoo them away.

“The Movement supplied those for us when we landed,” she comments, nodding to the crates. “That was two months ago.”

“No one has come back to check on you since?” you ask, brows notching together.

She shakes her head solemnly, jaw set rigid. “Our little ones go hungry, our elders are sick with red fever. We will run out of water before the week is through,” Arlaani says before she turns to you, holding your gaze—the seriousness evident in the stone of her eyes. “I thank the gods you are here.” She presses a palm to your shoulder. You feel the weight of it, the weight of her—of the lives she carries on her back.

“I thank the gods.”

///

You stop by each tent delivering what little food and medicine you brought with you from the Crest, and after each encounter—the people so grateful, so weary—your mind strays further and further to Mando.

Din, you scold yourself. Not Mando, Din. Din Djarin.

You still can’t bring yourself to say it.

He spent that whole fateful day nearly two weeks ago bristling at the very sight of you, going out of his way to limp to the other side of the ship just to ignore you better, only to do you in for one final head spin and give you his name.

Two weeks, and you still haven’t said it. There’s no other excuse: plainly - pitifully - you’re scared. You’re scared he regrets it.

Because how horrible of a truth would it be? To be offered something out of carelessness or guilt; to be the product of pity, or even worse, a mistake that cannot be unmade, cannot be rectified. He can’t take his name back, can’t unspeak it any more than you can unhear it, and this fear, picking at you like an old scab—it’s so painfully human, so terribly universal:

what if I’m not worth it?

And isn’t it easier to neglect the answer, then it is to ask the question.

So you’ve buried his name for both of your sakes, keeping it somewhere secret and private, there to garner dust in the quiet of your mind.

You’re brushing through the draped entrance of a tent when you spot him: a small boy hiding behind a supply crate, the top of his dusted head poking out over the ledge. You catch him peering at you, and he ducks down shyly. A honeyed grin blooms across your face.

“I think we’re being watched Munch,” you coo. The little ball of robes blinks up at you from your arms, earning his nickname tenfold as he crams his mouth with a flakey cracker. “You want to say hi?” He hums in response and you crouch, letting him wiggle free from you to toddle over to the other child. With small steps, he eventually makes it over to the other and immediately, without hesitation or provocation, extends one of his crackers to him.

Your heart swells until it bursts, proud and beautiful in your chest.

Munch leads him out from behind the box, the two boys shuffling slowly through the dirt back to you. He can’t quite meet your eyes—his gaze lands somewhere around your chin, your collarbone, and you fold forward, bent at the knees to meet his height.

“Do you have a name, sweetheart?” you ask kindly.

He nods, nibbling quietly on the cracker, and you breathe out a chuckle. “Not much of a talker, huh? I can respect that,” you say, eyes crinkling fondly with a smile. “Well if you want to tell me, you can—or not. That’s okay, too.”

He nods again, and you fish out more salty treats from the sleeve in your pack, gently handing them to the other—a gesture he nervously accepts, dirty fingers trembling as he plucks them from your open palm. This boy is precious—sweet faced and cherubic, he must not be a cycle over the age of seven.

And the realization comes so suddenly that it blindsides you—struck by it, there between your lungs: Din was his age when it happened—when life happened to him. When this could have happened to him.

You can’t help but think of it—think of him and everything he told you that night he came bleeding through the Razor Crest. You can’t stop imagining him; Din as a little boy tucked away, his people—his parents—decimated overhead. He is a Mandalorian by proxy. Displaced from his home, from his past, saved by a sect with an affinity for orphans—to protect those who cannot protect themselves. The irony of it all is not lost on you:

Din is a refugee too.

You see him in this boy, and in all the faces here—in every set of eyes, young and old alike. Each are individual - idiosyncratic - but they each wear the same qualifiers. The same exhaustion. They each fight the same tired battle, leaving them with identical sets of marks.

Does Din? If you were to see him, truly see him, would you find them there? You’ve seen the scars he’s earned from being a Mandalorian.

You wonder if he has any from simply being a man.

Pushing yourself to stand upright, you cradle Munch back into your chest, his teensy claws riddling your shirt, and offer the boy your hand—outstretched in front of you.

He’s cautious. Too cautious for a boy so young, for a child who should know nothing but abundant love and fearless imagination. He shouldn’t have had to learn this lesson: that some hands should not be taken, that some people should not be trusted. He studies you, hesitant but hopeful, and you smile softly—cycles of hard-won patience and empathy curving the corners of your lips.

He lays his small hand in your own. You walk on together.

///

The day blows by like hot desert wind, chafing at your skin. Minutes have ripened to hours—morning has crawled to midday.

The three of you finish your rounds— distributing rations throughout the camp, pitching tents, taking stock of the dwindling supplies for you to relay to the Movement once you return to the Crest and have access to your holopad.

It’s then that you notice Arlaani again. She’s speaking in hushed tones with another man, the both of them hunched over a large carton. You see the concern ticked clearly along the man’s jaw, the dread grooved into her brow, her crossed arms. With a frown, you plop the child down onto a nearby petrified log and the other boy joins, hopping up next to him, all too happy to get off his feet. You tell them not to wander off— a kiss to Munch’s forehead, a ruffle of the boy’s hair— before making your way to the couple.

“Hey,” you call, jogging over. “Is everything alright?”

Arlaani wheels around as you approach. It hasn’t been long since you’ve seen her, but somehow she looks older. Hollowed, drained— like there’s less and less in her. “It’s the water,” she grits out, “sand mites have gotten to the crates, to the canteens.” She tosses you one of the flasks. It’s littered with holes, porous and leaking— the remnants of water splashing out of the orifices bitten into the sides.

Arlaani dives through the crate, rifling through the supplies. She’s tense, upset, her voice is rife with it. “They’re all like this. Ruined, fucking—” She heaves out a hissed exhale and props herself up on the edge of the box, neck bowed between her shoulder blades. “This was the last of it, and now—now…”

The man tries his best - how do you comfort marble? - as he places an arm around her, his thumb drawing patterns there, reassuring and calm but she wants nothing of it; she gruffly shrugs it off as if stung, weaseling out of his hold. “I can’t— I need to think,” Arlaani bristles, as she paces away from the settlement, receding deeper into the Wastes.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I have- I have to—” His eyes follow her shrinking form, worry apparent in the shape of them. It’s so obvious. He’s terrified of that woman—probably loves her, too.

“Go,” you say, and with a knowing expression, he turns and trots after her.

Heavy footed, heavy hearted, you trudge back to find the children exactly where you left them. Once there, you collapse to the hard ground, dust and dirt puffing up as you recline onto the log. Your palms run over the earth—scooping up sand and rock and letting it slip through the cracks of your fingers, gaze trained out onto the encampment—the people milling about, the miasma of helplessness stifling the air.

This isn’t enough. You’re not doing enough— these impermanent little nothings, your measly good deeds. It’s not going to matter. They’ll be bones by the time the next wave of volunteers rolls through. They’ll be grain.

You need to do something that lasts, that outlives you when you leave.

You glance over to the kid and his new friend, their little legs swinging off the edge of the trunk, heels thumping against the old wood. They look to you, two pairs of big eyes—crackers in their tiny fists.

“You boys ever dig a well?”

///|||///

The suns roast into his beskar, blistering him from the inside out.

The day has been long and it’s only half over. It took him longer than it should have to gather himself— his fob, his rifle, his fucking head—and depart the Crest. Longer than it should have to hunt the bounty here—some marauder scum who’s number is up and luck has run out. Longer than it should have to set up his sniper’s nest, sculpted into the mountainside.

Din is distracted, has been all day— has been since you left.

He can’t stop feeling you. Your warmth pushing against his chest, your arms looping around his neck, the heat of your palms searing through his flight suit. Din can smell you on him still— like citrus and moss, you cling to his cowl from where you buried your head.

It’s intolerable. It feels like an infection with how it’s been building, how this has spread— slowly but surely rearing to an unignorable head. Serpentine and insidious as it crept through him, this growing affliction— this morbid curiosity that spoiled like rotting stonefruit into infatuation— slipping along his bones and organs, blemishing Din in faint little licks— imperceptible to the naked eye but there all the same.

How did this happen? How did he become this?

You’ve been more relaxed now, bolder in some ways. Transparent. Sometimes, you’ll touch his arm as you walk by him or sweep your hair from your neck when you sit by his side in the cockpit, star shine on your jaw. You’re quick with a laugh, lips pulling back into a pretty grin. He’s even caught you staring at him, there out of the corner of his eye—from where he steals those same glances under the safety of his helm.

He spied you once, just a glimpse of your backside, padding quietly away from the shower with only your underwear on, drops of water tracking down your spine. It was brief, you were fast—you must have forgotten your shirt in your bunk—but he had to lock himself in his quarters and fuck his hand before he could even think about piloting the Crest into the stratosphere.

Din is a lot of things, but he isn’t daft. A part of him knows. A part of him is aware that you are two very human people with very human needs—and that you’ve been ignoring these primal aches with premeditated dereliction for months now.

And you can only dance around each other so long before one of you snaps.

And Maker, he’s so desperate to be rid of you—to get you out of his fucking system; to let him sleep without dreaming of you, to let him wake without plunging into his briefs and jerking himself off. You are everywhere. In his ship, in his galley, in his thoughts. He has no privacy, he has no sanctity— he has no idea how you have managed to worm yourself so deep into every living part of him. Others have tried and they have failed, and you— you did it in your sleep. From that very first fucking night, curled up in his chair, gore and ash stained tunic rising with your slumbered breathing. You snored.

You fucking snored.

And now you’re killing him— just as the suns above, you are blistering him from the inside out.

His level-headedness has all but evaporated. He’s peeved. Not only is Din distracted, but he's angry— has been since he plodded up this damn hill, waiting for his quarry to pass through the ravine between the valley of mountains—because instead of performing his job, he’s consumed with you. All of you.

He kneels, flattening himself against the rocky sand— your hands, so small and soft against him— and unclips the rifle from the strap on his back—how good you’d feel on his skin—he aligns his sights— the weight of your breasts in his palms—

His helmeted head clunks to the ground and he loses his aim, a frustrated growl emanating out from him. Focus, Mando. Fucking focus.

Din reorients his crosshair, training it on the gang of pirates in the gorge below. They lean haphazardly over their speeders, their cargo nets packed full with different wares and spices, jeering loudly and chugging from the jugs of spotchka they undoubtedly looted earlier that afternoon. He inspects the rabble, searching for his target and—those pretty lips that smile so easy for him, stretched around his length.

Fuck. He pinches his eyes shut.

You whispering husky into his ear as you ride him, you bent over the pilot’s chair begging for his cock, you sprawled out over the deck while he laps at your sweet cunt.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck— he can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this. You’re everywhere everywhere everywhere— you buffer his vision, his senses, his sight. He’s blinded with you. You’re blinding him.

With an infuriated heave he shoves himself off the ridge of the dune, bounty-less, and reverses his course back to the Crest—heart beating furious and bloody against his ribs.

///

The settlers surround the trench, peering down at you as you work. Hours ago, when you originally proposed this idea to Arlaani, they insisted on helping— to which of course, you insisted they didn’t. And so they watch— the refugees, Din’s foundling, the nameless boy— mangling their hands restlessly, animated with an inkling of that all too lethal substance long sought after by those of all species and creeds: hope.

You sink the shovel into the dry earth and your muscles burn with the effort—the skin on your palms stings from the rough grate of the wooden dowel and the yawn of your back strains as you pitch forward.

You’ve missed this.

You’ve been so distracted. You’ve grown comfortable in your routines, you’ve let yourself go listless—living in blissful ignorance—all because of a metal man in his metal ship with the most impossible and darling child you’ve ever known. All because your body reacts at the very sight of him, all because your belly flips when he speaks, that modulated purr rumbling loose from his beskar, all because, because—

You like him.

You wish you didn’t—you hardly know why you do—but you’ve soaked your fingers enough times in your rack to realize that this thing residing within you burns.

You can’t even see his face, and you don’t have to. His presence alone— that raw, vacuous energy that surges from him—it’s addicting. It's engulfing. It makes you whimper into the night, massaging your pearled clit as your other hand muffles your moans and you come over and over and over again, chasing after the fantasy you so dangerously harbor for this man. The man who’s piloting you back to Coruscant—the man who sleeps just down the hall.

But that isn’t real. That’s not real life— that’s not your life. This is real—the fuchsia of the setting suns blazing through the horizon, the sweat on your brow. You’ve missed this— Maker, you need this. Working with your hands, making an impact. You’re wanted here and kriff, does that not feel so unabashedly right. To be wanted. To be important.

Your back groans, the sinew woven over your spine aching in protest and you know, without a doubt, you’ll feel this for the next week. Half of you dreads it—being cooped up and sore, lactic acid compacting your joints— while the other excites at the prospect; the memory of a good deed lasting long after it’s finished. That reminder always there, always present: see, there’s still hope in the galaxy. We can still do good. There’s goodness where you look for it.

You fling dirt over your shoulder as you burrow lower and lower. With each shove, the soil changes hue, changes density—the striations darker, more definitive. It’s less dry now, thicker too—turning from sand to clay the deeper you dig. Again, you drive the spade into the sod with a taxed grunt, when you hear a distinct, wet squish.

You pause, stilling your shovel in the dirt. Everything - everyone - freezes.

Adrenaline thrums through you as you drop to your knees, using your hands to brush away loose silt piled atop the loamy floor, excavating what lies beneath.

Prayers and hollers erupt above you and you lurch your focus up to the sound, a feverish grin plastered to your face. The little boy jostles the child excitedly, and his green talons rumple the other’s tattered tunic. Your head falls back, cushioned by the dirt wall and you laugh - gargled, relieved - as water begins to seep through the tired ground.

Bubbling up, bubbling up—unearthing.

///

The promise of ridding yourself of your soiled clothes was the singular thought that fueled your trek back to the Crest. Every inch of you was filthy, caked in dried mud and gritty sand and you wanted nothing more than to strip from those dirty layers and melt into your bedroll. The kid, that lucky little bugger, had passed right out; sun drunk from his long day, he’d slept the entirety of the return trip—stirring only once when you placed him in the hover pram and sealed it shut.

Your bones are worn. Your tissue, your tendons— every little scrap that keeps you stitched together craves sleep. You reckon you should feel miserable, what with the tell-tale stiffness already burdening your spine and the fresh callus from the shovel’s handle reddening your palm.

But you’re not miserable, not even close. No, you’re happy—you’re glowing; fulfilled and serene, humming as you wash your pants in the basin, kneading at the sopping fabric. You wring out the article, shaking free the excess droplets before draping it on a metal rung overhead. You peel off your shirt and bra band next, leaving you only in your underwear as you plop them into the bowl and begin to scrub at the stains, concentrating on a particularly dirty patch at the sleeve.

The grating mechanics of the Crest’s great jaw unhinging sends your stomach bounding frantic to your lungs.

Kriff—shit shit shit, he’s back early.

Clutching onto your modesty, you cover your breasts and scramble to your quarters, quickly shimming a loose tunic over your head. Its hem barely covers the curve of your ass and you tug long at the cloth before peeking cautiously from the doorway and tiptoeing out of your room.

“Hey,” you warble, rounding a corner as solid feet pound up the ramp—you can feel their reverberations in the floor under your own. You pad into the galley, pulling at your shirt as you go, to tidy up the washing you left unattended. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so—”

You falter.

He’s there at the mouth of the ship, the ramp drawing slowly up behind him and he’s fuming; you can practically see the steam lifting from his armor and his breathing is labored—chest rising, plummeting violently. You both stand immobilized on opposite sides of the hull—you, bare-legged and exposed and Din, all but anonymous under the steeled fury of his armor. Finally, the sound dampens, ship shuddering as she seals shut—sealing you in—and the leather of his fist creaks in the silence hanging dense like smoke around you.

“Mando...?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response. Instead he begins to stalk forward, stripping weapon after weapon from himself with every thundering step—rifle, blaster, vibroblade—he sloughs it all, metal clanging against metal as they clatter to the deck.

“Hey, what’s wrong-”

He’s not stopping. Fuck, he’s getting closer and closer and instinctually you back up—staggering until you’re pressed against the bulkhead—his broad frame crowding you until all you see is the silver polish of his beskar. You jolt when his hands fly up and slam into the wall behind you, framing either side of your head, fencing you between his forearms. Your lips part, wide-eyed and confused, and you gulp around the nervous lump threatening your voice.

“Do you have any idea,” he seethes, “what you do to me?”

“W-What-” Your stammering is cut short as he slots his thigh between your legs and you have to tilt your chin to meet his visor, a gasp finding itself on your tongue.

“Strutting around my ship, putting your hands on me, that kriffing smile…” Din ruts his knee into your heat, and you’re practically hoisted onto your toes. Your core pulses against the blunt pressure, blood racing to the throb at your center.

Maker, you could fucking faint.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this—about you?” His voice is tar black—smooth like obsidian—and you succumb to it. You can’t speak; any and all language evaporating from the forefront of your mind, because he’s everywhere. He’s inescapable and smothering and his scent floods over you, intoxicatingly wild—like iron and sand and something dangerous. Something heady, carnal.

“Is this what you want?” he hisses.

You’ve gone dumb. You’ve imagined this, you’ve dreamt of this, but now it’s actually happening—here, in the flesh, it’s finally happening and you’re trembling with the reality of it. All you can muster is a shaky nod, tongue darting out over your lip.

“Tell me,” he orders, scanning your face behind the guise of his helm. You feel his gaze rove over your eyes, your cheek—fanning across your lips.

Your breath hitches.

“Yes,” you whisper, “yes I want this.“

It’s all it takes.

Din is rougher than he means to be. He wears this as he wears his armor, plating the soft parts of himself he doesn’t want anyone touching. He doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else but this.

He grabs a handful of your waist, rooting you still as he rolls his thigh against you. You inhale an airy noise, grappling onto his other arm stationed by your head and you bite your lip, sucking it into your mouth. Your cunt spasms for him as he presses up into your mound, fightless against the groan that seeps through you.

“You like that?” he pants. ”You like fucking my thigh?”

Din manhandles your hips, his hold on you vicious as he rocks you back and forth on his plated leg, your clit catching on the cold edge of his thigh guard with each motion. It sends hot sparks down your spine and you trap a moan behind your teeth, letting the sound rumble there before you swallow it. His hand weaves up from your waist, the drag of his glove setting fire to your skin as he passes over the swell of your clothed breast, and you arch into his palm as he swipes a thumb over a nipple. “You want more?”

He splays his large hand, groping at your plump flesh, and pinches your nipple hard until it pebbles through your shirt. With each sharp twist, his intention becomes clearer: it won’t be enough to skate by on moans alone.

“I asked you a question.”

Din slides his other hand to the small of your back, drawing you flush to his front, and you can feel him— the outline of his firm length twitching under his flight suit against your hip. He cranes over you, intimidating and menacing and achingly devious. The panel of his visor has never looked darker.

“Use your words, dala,” he husks.

You should be embarrassed by this—by your need made evident through the soaked lining of your underwear—but you aren’t. The heat that stipples your cheeks isn’t born from shame, it’s sprung from lust—pure and primal—and you can’t afford to give it any further consideration because all there is is this man wrenching sounds from you like an animal— and he’s scarcely even touched you yet.

“Your fingers,” you whimper, “I want your hands."

He learned this lesson within those first weeks—relearns it every fucking day. You could ask him for anything - everything - and he would oblige.

He can’t say no to you.

He shifts out from between you, hooking into the elastic of your panties and tears them down your thighs to rest just above your knees, the spread of your legs keeping them from dropping to your ankles.

Patiently - tortuously - he scrapes up your legs, leaving embers in his wake as he trails higher higher higher to where you need him most. You’re shivering—nerve endings fried and frayed—and every atom inside you hums with anticipation, with unbridled impulse.

The orange tips of his gloves dimple your inner thighs - squeezing, massaging - before he tilts his helmet, angling himself to see you better, and paws your swollen lips apart.

Your pussy is drooling for him.

He moans something indecipherable— a curse in Mando’a—at the sight of you glistening for him under the dimmed lights like this, and immediately you buck your pelvis to him, hungry for his touch—and the pathetic noises babbling out of you prove too much for him to bear.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, ripping a glove off and tossing it aside, “I need to feel you.”

Your eyes have dilated with want, blackened as you watch Din retrace his bare hand—that gorgeous thing you’ve never seen, only ever fantasized about—back to your heat and slowly - so fucking slowly - pass a finger through your slit.

You throw your head back, knocking against the durasteel. The mewl that escapes you is inhuman.

He’s so warm. His tan skin is molten—it’s like he brought the sun in with him, as if he’s burning that star straight into your sex. You’re slippery with arousal; you can feel how glossed you are, you don’t have to look. You can hear it—hear the obscene squelches he’s stroking from your seam.

“Maker, you’re - shit - you’re wet,” he groans loudly, reveling in the way you pitch your hips—seeking his warmth, his friction. He’s been toying with you, drawing patterns along your pussy and playing with your puffy folds, but he hasn’t even come close to your clit. You know it’s no accident. Din is methodical in all things, he doesn’t make mistakes. This is a decision—it’s intentional. You think, perhaps, he’s looking to break you—some sort of retribution for these months you’ve spent swimming in circles around each other—and you think, perhaps, you’d let him.

That you’d like it.

When Din grants you mercy, finally gliding his index along your neglected bundle of nerves, reflexively you fist into his cowl, knuckles going pale.

“Stars-” you exclaim—just like that.

He handles your body like he does one of his pistols - practiced, unparalleled - encircling your clit with precision, his finger on your trigger—blinding, perfect agony swiveled into your sweet cleft.

When he pushes himself inside you, all the oxygen gets punched out of your lungs.

“Fuck, and so tight,” Din growls, bending at the knuckle to curl over that spongy spot of your walls that makes you gape, makes your brain go slack. Your arms scamper around his pauldrons, nails scraping sharp over beskar. The heel of his hand presses into your clit and you grind against him, each roll of your hips pleading a filthy please please please as you chase after the orgasm he’s baiting you with.

He responds to that, bourboned praise dripping smug from his smirk. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate—gonna cum for me already?”

You don’t have the wherewithal to formulate a response. He’s fit another finger into you, fucking up into you hard—fucking you exactly how you need him to. It feels like you are about to shatter right there on your feet. It’s almost unbearable, this mounting tension that’s climbing within you. You’ve been so starved for this, so deprived of a kind touch and a good fuck, and within no time at all he’s coaxing you to the ledge of your release.

“Mando,” you sob, entwining your fingers into his cape, grinding grinding grinding into his palm when suddenly, without warning, his ministrations cease—that burning coil abating to a simmer. You let out a rasped pant, collapsing forward onto his shoulder— your climax ripped away from you at the last, pivotal second.

Your eyes are screwed shut, you don’t see the movement—you can only feel it once it’s already there: the bounty hunter’s glove grating over your neck. You sputter out a gasp as he forces your jaw up to align with the chill of his visor, trapped in the unrelenting strength of his grasp. Your eyes clamber around the chrome boxing you in, gulping back the fear coalescing in your mouth.

“You say my name,” he gravels. “You say my name when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt spasms around the fingers still seated within you—aching for movement, aching to cum—and your lower lip quivers as he leers. “I gave it to you—say it,” he commands.

For a fleeting moment, in the remaining rational corner of your brain, it occurs to you that you’re terrified—that there may be no going back once you speak it. There’s no unmaking this choice. Like a door—a door that swings both ways—once it is cracked ajar, it cannot be closed again. Because you know yourself, you loathe to admit it, but you know his name will crumble you; that you will bend—that you will want to give and give and give to him— and still, despite, you lay onto the handle and fling that door wide open.

“Din.”

“Fuck,” he seethes. His reaction is visceral—the whole of him stiffens, leathered pads of his fingertips searing into your throat. “Again.”

“Din,” you whine as he rocks his fingers into your walls.

He moans, wanton and guttural, at the way his name tumbles from you like velvet. “Good girl—fuck, that’s good.”

He vanishes from your neck, bringing his hand down to cup his cock bulging painfully against the fabric there and your gaze snaps to it, saliva pooling in the well of your mouth. You slither your hand down his breast plate, over the paneling of his flight suit, trailing south until it lands on the hide of his glove. You stop, waiting there - breathless - until he nods curtly.

His hand falls away. You mold your palm to his length.

“Din,” you give freely, high-pitched and girly, and his cock brays under your hand. Fuck, he’s big—you can feel his mass through his pants and your pussy flutters around his fingers moving deliciously lazy inside you. Your eyes latch onto his, the brown of them hidden somewhere under the helm, and you can feel his own bore into you, weighing leaden there—

before you both simultaneously rupture.

Din’s fingers slip out of you to fiddle with the hem of his pants, unbuttoning in a clumsy flourish until he springs free with a groan of relief.

Maker.

He’s fucking divine—long and veined, with a patch of dark curls padding around the base of him. Din weeps for you already, frustrated and pent up from the confines of his restraints, beads of arousal dappling his head. He hisses as you swipe a digit over his cock, smearing his precum down the silken slope of him. You’re transfixed—the both of you staring as you wrap your hand around his shaft and he shudders, keening in to your touch.

“Mm, fuck you’re soft- kriff-”

Din dwarfs you—you barely fit around his girth—and he can’t help but buck into your palm as you begin to move in tandem. Din flicks at your clit, mirroring your pace as you get each other off. It’s awkward and lewd and perfect—both of you, a tapestry of woven limbs and sweat and you pump him harder and harder, choking his cock with your fist. You fuck him raw, the dry drag of your satin hand ripping curses from his mouth.

“Fuck, dala,” he pants, “I-I’m not—” I’m not gonna last. His words are snuffed out as you circle your wrist and brush a thumb over his leaking tip, forcing him to shiver. He doesn’t have to finish his thought, you understand plenty well. You’re dancing along that same precipice, flirting with the fall.

“Stars, yes,” you plead. Fuck, you want him to cum— you need him to. You need to make him feel good, to let him know that you’re here - you’re right here - and that he means more to you than you care to admit; that you want him—have since you first laid eyes on him, since he rescued you, since he took you back to the Crest and gave you the last of his bacta to heal all your splintered bits. That he deserves this—with all that he’s done for you, all that he’s doing for you—

with all that he his.

“Din—please.” Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re asking for—more of him, all of him—and a groan tears through his modulator at the sound of you begging his name—like he’s wounded, like it pains him to hear you say it.

It’s a race now—the two of you hurdling headlong towards this terrible, messy collision. You’re both sloppy—wet sounds and slaps of skin—as you stumble closer to the brink of release. He’s been rendered incoherent, chiseled down to the basest of grunts and broken words you don’t recognize. His thumb finds a devastating pressure on your swollen nub and your legs begin to vibrate, nearly unable to stand on your own two feet with how fucking perfectly he’s working your pussy.

This thing inside you feels giant - monstrous - and that slow wave that’s been building and building and cresting is here, upon you. You’re trapped in the barrel of it, and it’s going to crash at any moment and sweep you out to sea. Drown you—happily, gladly. “I’m - oh fuck—"

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, tightening his circles on your clit. “Cum for me, cum on my hand-”

A crack of lightening streaks up your middle, the whole of you shaking as your orgasm rushes through, a sputtering cry let loose into the ship. You feel yourself gush, dripping past his thickness stuffing you full, dripping down your inner thighs. Din pulls out from you and you whimper at the loss—his absence leaving you gaping, leaving you bereft. You’re siphoning down air, dizzy from your release, when he raises his hand, glistening with your fluids, and traces your bottom lip—asking for entrance.

Fuck.

You part for him, eager and pliant, and he snakes two fingers inside—tasting your own tang and the leather residue left there, stamped into the whirls of his fingerprints. Your tongue swirls around them, laving him clean, and you drag over the ridges of his shaft— still hard and throbbing and waiting in your grasp. He bobs his fingers in your mouth, matching you thrust for thrust, and you let out a depraved little moan, humming around him, and all Din can do is watch.

Watch as he disappears between your lips—his skin pulling and catching on your plush flesh— watch as you suck on them, watch as he practically fucks your throat. And Maker, you take him so fucking well, letting him do what he pleases with your all too supple body.

He can’t even begin to imagine what his cock would look like—what it would feel like nestled in the hot cavern of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him like hard candy. Din doesn’t let himself—can’t. If he did, fuck, that’d be it. He’d be done for. He knows he’d cum in a flash and he wants to make this last—to hold on to this - onto you - for as long as he can, allow himself this singular concession. The only time, he convinces himself, the last time.

He won’t think about you again.

You quicken your rhythm and Din bucks wildly into your palm, his seizing and twitching alerting you to how close he is. He slides from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing along after as he clasps onto the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m—” Din knots into your hair, gripping you rough, panting frantic. “Fuck. Fuck, dala— cyare-”

With a hoarse shout, he slams his gloved fist into the durasteel and spills over himself in hot, thick pumps, spurts shooting out to splatter on your tunic, on his flight suit, on your knuckles. You ease him through it, his cum glazing down his cock before you slow to a languid stroke, his seed sticky under your palm. You’re panting, the both of you, spent noises reverberating ugly and loud against the metal sidings.

Din sinks his helmet to your forehead while you catch your breath, his cold beskar kissing your flushed skin—the density of it comforting, grounding. Your eyes teeter shut and you let yourself lean into him, a dazed grin tugging at your wet lips. This is— nice; so much gentler than the pace he drove not minutes before. Head to head, his hand buried in your hair, your arm slung over his hulking shoulders; your fingers thread into the askew fabric behind his neck to discover a sliver of skin treasured away underneath. You trace there - lightly, whispered - earning a fizzle of static sent whirring through his vocoder.

“Fuck,” Din mumbles, before unweaving himself and separating from you. Your legs have gone useless and rubbery—you almost face plant forward without him there— and by the time you blink open, he’s already tucked himself into his pants and picked up his glove, slotting it over those skilled fingers that had just filled you to the brim. He turns back round to find you staring at him through the haze of your afterglow, eyes glassy and fucked out; your fluids dribbling down towards your underwear still bunched above your knees, hair tangled with sweat and saliva and cum—his and yours.

You look wrecked—disheveled. You’re so fucking pretty it makes Din want to scream.

He picks up a stray rag from a crate and offers it to you, before silently sliding your panties back up to your hips in one dexterous swipe. He lingers there but for a moment, savoring the touch of you—grazing a digit into the crease of your hip. You’re rendered mute— your brain can hardly string a sentence together— but finally you manage, your voice weak when you find it again.

“Thank you,” you croak, wiping away the traces of him off your knuckles, and you smile coquettish, delirious. “That was… that was, uhm—I really enjoyed that.”

A quiet beat slogs by.

And then, everything shifts.

Din’s hand descends from your waist, holstering it to his side, and he moves away. He moves away from you.

You can feel it immediately—like a gust of chilled wind, the change in the air nips at you. Din’s armor is anything but warm—his presence, his aura, anything but inviting—but now, he seems farther from you than ever before, his visor tempered and steely.

You know him. You know this man. You’ve travelled with him, you’ve mended his ills, you’ve taken care of his son, you’ve spoken his name, you’ve laid prints on his skin and deeper still—

And here, before you, Din is white noise. Indiscernible. Unreadable.

Nervously, you twiddle with the frayed edge of the stained cloth, worrying your cheek. You swear, just for a second, that you see him inch towards you— you think you sense him, some part of him, breaching the chasm that’s formed between you. But it’s only a trick of the lowlight—a trick of your cruel heart, winged and errant beneath your ribs, misconstruing your thoughts to fancy.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t come to you like you want. He doesn’t touch you again, he doesn’t hold you like you need.

It feels like you’re withering—your legs too bare, your tunic too short, hair too mussed, eyes too bleary—everything feels wrong now, misplaced. “Din,” you start, you try—you try to keep attached to this tether, to this thin strand you’ve sewn between your bodies, but he shrinks back. He severs it. He is as you first met him. Rigid. Distant. A Mandalorian bounty hunter— the best in the parsec. He is as he was months ago, when you were strangers.

When you were nothing.

“I—” He silences himself, teeth clenching shut around the unspoken sentiment you so long to hear, and instead takes another step backwards. Farther away. Farther from you.

He stands straighter, impossibly taller, and you feel

small.

“Goodnight,” Din gives, his voice shrouded and cloaked by his modulator. He pivots on his heel, retreating into the depths of the Crest and leaves you there, the ghost of his hands on your neck, on your breasts, in your heat— still tingling from where they haunt you. Exhausted, you thud back into the bulkhead, unfocused and unseeing.

“Goodnight Din,” you murmur, but it falls upon deaf ears. He’s gone, and the empty hull swallows your words—burying them.

taggies:

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled @bookishofalder @helmet-comes-off @grumpymuffinmama @niiight-dreamerrrr @spideysimpossiblegirl @janebby @greatcircle79 @djarinsbeskar @sammysdaisy @whataperfectwasteoftime @mandobloggin @silver-streaked-wings

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #king of cups #mandalorian smut

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years ago

Text

Turn Me or Leave Me 2/2

1/2

Summary: Elijah makes his choice to find and return you to him with the help of Marcel.

A/N: It was really nice to see that people wanted a second part. This one's shorter but I hope you still enjoy it!

Word Count: 1.8k

Tagging: @puddinmistahj-blog @moon-child-writer @wanniiieeee @agent-anna @mysticalfallsss

“All I wanted was a happy ending. A happy ending to what I have caused on our special day.” Elijah said, expressing his guilt on a sunny morning. A day after the evening of when he learned that you, the love of his life, had chosen to leave, and adding to the misery, asked that your memories were to be erased. Every last one memory he and you shared for the past five years.

Marcel and Klaus, being his only two anchors who felt responsible to hold the honorable and noble Mikaelson standing, stood behind the still-sad Elijah, listening to him sulk around the compound.

Marcel felt highly accountable for putting Elijah in greater pain, confiding in him the truth that came along with nothing but distress. He also felt sorry that he had to tell them something that made you unsure of telling Marcel in the first place, despite not telling them exactly where you were headed… yet.

The right hand of Klaus had sighed, looking at the ground, getting Elijah to turn around and look at him with focus.

“I’ll have you know Marcellus that I completely feel regret in myself for giving her the choice to leave. I shouldn’t have referred to her as a wall when it came to discussing important matters as that. I feel entirely in the wrong as she was right in making that point of no difference between now or five years for me to turn her. I vowed that I’d do anything to make her happy and I denied a simple request that I could have given in a heartbeat. I am clearly spiraling down a whole of great depression and fear, on the brink of turning my humanity off knowing that I cannot attempt to get her back. Is that what you wanted out of me?” he asked, irritated and drained.

Marcel looked at Klaus, who seemed to have shrugged, signaling that this was not his floor for him to say anything since he wasn’t the one to have gotten Elijah’s attention. He then looked back at Elijah, who was breathing heavily from what he had just told Marcel.

“I’m sorry, Elijah, you must have misunderstood me,” Marcel stated, “You see, I wanted to honor the moment Y/N and I had together that night in the airport. In order for her to tell me where she was going, I told her that there was no use in feeling hesitant to tell me since there was an assumption that you’d back off and respect her wishes of leaving, staying here instead. I shouldn’t have done that now that I’m hoping you’d sweep her off her feet again and get her back. Before you snap my neck or anything, just know that I’m on your side now, I want you to get her back.”

Elijah used his super-speed to quickly appear in front of Marcel, looking at him with serious eyes, “Then kindly tell me where she is. I’d like to get my wife back.”

Marcel patted Elijah in the back, smirking with delight, “With pleasure, but there’s someone you should know with her over there who’ll be brought back as well.”

Elijah’s face turned to stone, as his excitement was abruptly brought to a pause. “Who?” he asked with worry.

“I’m so glad we could end today’s shopping at this wonderful restaurant’s seating choice, Rebekah.” you thanked your newly made friend.

The two of you were currently at Duke’s La Jolla, a Hawaiian-inspired restaurant known for its beautiful outdoor seatings, overlooking the ocean views San Diego had to offer. This was near La Jolla Cove, a place Rebekah had planned on taking you to see after.

Right now, Duke’s was the place to gather energy and restore appetite after today’s massive shopping care of Rebekah at The Shops, an unparalleled experience for shopping at the city. She surprisingly took care of all the expenses, managing you to not stress about the endless rolling of receipts. She said it was another warm way of welcoming you to the city.

“Of course, dear, Y/N,” Rebekah waved off, “I’ve befriended the chef quite some time ago and got us the best seats for today. He’s remarkably a talented chef I might say as our meals are on the house.”

You gasped at the fact that meals were also taken cared of, “First the shopping, now the meals? This clearly has to be a dream, Rebekah, I’m serious, nobody could be that lucky in one day.”

“I can assure you that the chef of Duke’s has his ways of welcoming newcomers to his city and giving out free meals on your first visit is one of his many ways,” said an masculine voice, interrupting the conversation.

You looked up to see an elegant and sophisticated man, wearing a black luxurious suit, smiling at you with such captivation in his eyes. He removed one of his hands that had been hiding in his pocket, lending it out for you to shake.

“I’m Elijah, Rebekah’s brother,” the man introduced himself to you.

You took out your hand, shaking it with a small, enchanted smile on your face as you were charmed by his presence, “It’s nice to meet you, Elijah, I’m Y/N.”

Elijah felt nothing but pure attractiveness in how refreshing you looked compared to how he saw you last time. He was feeling nervous but wonderful to see you as you felt and appeared so different.

He examined how different you looked in terms of fashion. Rebekah transformed you into this fresh West Coast beach girl, successfully rocking the sundress and denim jacket as your hair was flowing down in a wavy manner. Your smile, it really showed that you were compelled. You had no thoughts of the troubling life you had in New Orleans, especially during the last time you interacted with Elijah. You seemed to have had no thought on the supernatural events happening, as there was nothing but sunshine on your mind.

Marcel seemed to have noticed that Elijah was about to start fawning over you for a much longer time than he had expected, which caused him to nudge Elijah in the shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

Elijah, animated back to reality, turned to Marcel, who was smiling warmly at you, “This is Marcel, a friend of mine.”

“He’s also my boyfriend actually,” Rebekah stated, smiling at you and Elijah. Marcel extended his hand and chuckled at you, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You shook Marcel’s hand, gasping again at Rebekah, “Rebekah I didn’t even know about you having a brother, and now a boyfriend? You seem to be hiding lots of things from me,” you teased.

“Relax darling, I’ve only met you a few days ago, I can’t just talk you through my entire life,” Rebekah sarcastically replied, “No doubt that would take centuries,” she looked at Elijah with a smirk.

“Right, well I wouldn’t want to be rude anymore, Elijah, Marcel, would you like to join us? The view is to die for, and so is the food!” you proposed, inviting your two new friends to sit with you by the table.

Rebekah waved her hands at Elijah and Marcel who had begun nodding and gesturing to sit, “But would you look at the time? Y/N was meaning to be taken to La Jolla Cove and now seems to be the perfect time.”

You turned to Rebekah, narrowing your eyebrows in confusion. But before you had a say in it, Elijah took a step forward and pointed at his sister, “Yes well, perhaps you’ve forgotten that you and Marcel have matters to attend to by this hour, sister? Y/N shouldn’t be worried about cancelled plans on her end, I’d be delighted to take her for you, if that's alright with you, Y/N?” he asked, now looking at you.

You rapidly nodded in excitement, “Of course, I don’t see why not!”

Marcel clasped his hands together, rubbing it in successfully, “Well now that’s settled, I think it’s time to make a move now,” he offered, looking at the group with a big grin on his face. Rebekah pursed her lips in irritation, “Right, just fantastic…” she murmured, standing up and making her way beside Marcel.

Elijah took his hand out gracefully, which you took in response, standing up beside him with an elated smile on your face. “Well, thank you for lunch today, Rebekah, and of course shopping. I’ll see you at home later?”

“With good things to look forward to I hope,” Rebekah strangely replied, which somehow Elijah and Marcel knew what she meant, leaving Marcel and Rebekah to part ways after that, resulting in you and Elijah left alone again.

He looked at you with mesmerism for a quick second and then gestured his hand to the exit, “Shall we?”

Plans with the person taking you to La Jolla Cove may have been changed but something about Elijah taking you instead didn’t really bother you. He was nothing but a pleasure to be with at the moment. After multiple times of offering that you drive, you finally gave up when Elijah strongly insisted that he’d take the wheel and drive the two of you to your destination.

For some reason, the drive to the cove had been surprisingly quiet in a good way. Glances at each other were exchanged every so often, smiling at each other as if you two were an old and sweet married couple enjoying each other’s moments together.

While you were thinking about how kind and handsome your friend’s brother was, Elijah was feeling nothing but a breeze of happiness in his heart, seeing you smile as if nothing in the world was bothering you at the moment. He was a little sad that you weren’t aware anymore of the feud between you two, but he wanted to cherish this happy and silent moment the two of you were sharing, knowing it would come to an end later on as he intended of bringing your memories back.

Once you arrived at the cove, you quickly stepped out and breathed the fresh and sunny air in the small, picturesque cove and beach that was surrounded by cliffs. “Wow, I can see why this place is deeply loved by both tourists and locals.” you admitted, gazing at the waves and breathtaking sky.

You turned around, looking at Elijah, who seemed to have already made his way beside you, putting his hands back on his pocket. You noticed how elegantly perfect he looked in his suit, but it didn’t really suit the setting. “Can I be honest with you, Elijah?” you asked, getting his attention.

He gave a small smile and nod, gesturing for you to continue, “Of course.”

“No offense because I really like your whole get up and all but wearing a nice suit… on a beach?” you joked, laughing at what you said.

Elijah looked down at his whole look, grinning at your observation and started unbuttoning his jacket, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I do hope though that folding up my shirt and trousers would suffice at the moment.”

“We could head back to the mall and get you some beach clothes if you want,” you offered, turning around to the car.

Elijah shook his head, and stopped you by grabbing your forearm, “That won’t be necessary, Y/N, I wouldn’t want you to miss out on spending more time in this lovely place.”

You nodded, showing a gesture of appreciation and looked back at the view of the beach, “It’s beautiful isn’t it? I’ve never seen such magnificent views like this. You see, I’m originally from New Orleans and I just moved here to the West Coast and I haven’t really had much exposure to things like this.”

Elijah, finished folding his shirt and trousers, looked at you with care, “Do you like it here so far?”

You nodded, showing eyes of hopes and dreams awaiting to be accomplished, “You bet. I don’t really see myself going back to New Orleans. I can’t explain how I’m feeling exactly but this place makes me feel free and at ease. Like nothing’s stopping me to live a carefree and happy life.”

Elijah displayed somewhat of a small smile, which to him was because he was relieved and happy that you were happy. The smile was small because he also felt unhappy that he was not able to provide you this happiness.

“What about you, Elijah?”

“Hm?” Elijah hummed in confusion.

“Are you living a carefree and happy life as well?” you prompted, asking innocently. “Perhaps there’s a special person in your life that’s giving you the additional happiness in your life?” There was something in your gut that wanted you to ask this, wanting to know if he had a significant other in his life.

Elijah chuckled to himself in a depressing way, looking down at the ground. “It’s quite a long story.”

“Ah,” you opened your mouth, happy that you understood what he was trying to say, “But do you love her?”

There seemed to be a quick and honest nod from Elijah, who seemed to be looking directly at the horizon, as if he was vividly thinking about his girl. “Words cannot express how much I love her.”

“So what happened?” you genuinely asked.

“One single yet vast mistake I made on my end. It ruined everything that we had together and I will never forget how much I regretted everything that led to her completely starting a new life without me. It broke my heart but I deserved that. She doesn’t deserve to have her heart broken because I wasn’t thinking things correctly.” he utterly confessed with grief.

You touched his shoulder out of pity, causing him to look at you with soft eyes, “Fight for her, Elijah. She has to be around here somewhere, hasn’t she? It isn’t too late to see if you have a chance to get her back and I know you will. I can help find her!” you supportingly said, trying to get his hopes up.

But it somehow failed. He sighed, shaking his head at you. His hand slowly touched yours, the one that held his shoulder. “Looking around for her won’t be necessary,” he replied, confusing you, “Because you’ve been standing alongside me today.”

You narrowed your eyes, wondering what he meant as this sounded strange to you. “I-I don’t follow, Elijah.”

Elijah placed both his hands on your shoulders firmly, looking you straight in the eye as he started compelling you.

“What we have just briefly discussed between us is considered a highlight of what I’m about to bring back to you,” he first said, “Recently, Marcel Gerard had compelled you to forget everything that happened to you in the last five years upon your request. The reason for this was because I denied you of becoming a vampire after being asked by you on our five year anniversary. With this, we had a massive quarrel, leaving you to have your memories erased and decide to start a new life here, away from New Orleans. Eventually you met again, Rebekah, but that doesn’t matter as much as what I’m about to say. I, Elijah Mikaelson, your husband, have travelled to see you, ending this compulsion to give you free will upon hearing what has been said.”

A few mere seconds had passed after Elijah’s compulsions and there you were, standing, and staring at someone who grew fondly familiar to you, bringing about tears slowly falling on your face as emotions were just attacking your body, hitting you right in the face with such clarity and impact.

Elijah only saw a tearful wife of his, narrowing her eyes with emotion as she didn’t know how to feel at the moment. He wanted to hug her and tell her everything was fine but he wanted her to make the first move, giving her the choice on how she wanted to react.

“E-Elijah,” your voice broke, causing you to just wrap your arms around his neck, breaking out to sob quietly. Elijah frowned in pity, hugging you back with such grip on his arms, wanting to not let you go. He gently rubbed your back, whispering sweet words and telling you to let it all out.

“My darling,” he whispered, “Just let it all out, it will be alright.”

Still embracing him, you shook your head, which he felt you do, “No,” you denied, “I’m so sorry, Elijah.”

This caused the heartwarming hug to stop from the two of you, as you simultaneously pulled out from each other. Elijah looked at you with slight confusion, after hearing you apologize. “Elijah,” you continued, “It was really wrong of me to lash out on you that night. I completely destroyed our anniversary night all because of one thing I kept going on about. Then I didn’t even let you know what choice I chose, leaving you to find out in a way you couldn’t imagine. I’m very, truly, sorry.”

Elijah gloomed, lowering his face with guilt, “No, Y/N,” he started with a low, sad voice, “It is I who is in the wrong, not you. You will never be in the wrong. What you asked for was something to do with what special thing we have. Of course it is my dream to live an eternal life with you, and when the situation appeared in front of me, I foolishly ignored it and words cannot express how wrong that was of me to do. I was a fool for doing so, for letting you go, and making you unhappy. It went to show how vapid I was as a husband and the guilt of that lives in me. It was I who destroyed our special day together, not you, but I. When you left without telling me, I deserved that as it gave me the time to reflect on how much of a mindless person I was that night. Knowing that you went here to start a life without me broke me. I never wanted to imagine what it was like to not have you in my life anymore and that fear arrived the moment we fought and I was trembling with such immense fear, knowing that life would crumble down without you by my side. I want you to know Y/N, that you are the love of my life always and forever. I am deeply apologetic for what I have done and I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make things right, to make us right again, because all I want in my life is to make you happy and if you will, I would like to live an eternal life with you, for you are the light of my life.”

It didn’t take another second for you to think about it. Despite going through a lot on both your ends, he was still the love of your life. If there was one thing the Mikaelsons taught you, it was that no matter what happens, family will always come down as the number one thing in life, always and forever.

You nodded, starting to grow a smile on your face, followed along with giggles, which caused Elijah to tense down and return the smile, “Yes, Elijah,” you replied, “I will always love you with all my heart. You are after all, my husband, my lover, my favorite person in the entire world and I would never want things to end between us for you too are the light of my life.”

With that, Elijah cupped your face and connected his lips with yours, planting a passionate and heartwarming kiss to end the beautiful day in one of your favorite places with your favorite person. You returned to wrapping your arms around his neck, hoping to stay like this forever with him.

Perhaps the two of you could stay in this beautiful place for awhile, after all… It is your special week in the end.

#elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson imagines #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson #marcel gerard

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shoutogepi · 5 years ago

Text

Needy

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 5.4k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : sub!shouto, dom!reader (femdom), choking, kinda sex pollen??, toys, ass play, pegging 💀

bio : Shouto gets hit with a quirk on the job, and you’ve never believed in God more than right now.

author’s note : listen folks i know i’ve sinned before but if writing this didn’t get me a one way ticket to satan’s subterranean sauna... idk what will 🤪 PSPSPSPSPS— if you’re hesitant to read femdom/pegging fics… you should give it a try… u never know 👀👀

tagging: @gallickingun in hopes to convince her pegging is hot, and @shoutodoki who constantly freaks out over sub!shou with me <3

alos available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he front door slams, a loud echo ringing through the hallway and stirring you from a mindless daydream. Your phone lies limply in your hand, screen brightly displaying the next level of your phone game, but it remains untouched. With a shake of your head, you’re on your feet and wandering over to the commotion of your boyfriend at the door.

When you actually see him, you suppress a chuckle, eyes raking over his figure huddled on the tiled floor. His back is to you, and he’s hunched over, thick fingers impatiently ripping off his hero boots.

“Babe?” You greet hesitantly, a brow raised and arms crossed over your chest in confusion. “I know today is my day off, aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

A visible shiver zips down Shouto’s spine, and though you can’t see it from your point of view, his face twists in distress. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he holds back a groan, your voice sounding damn ethereal to his ears. “Yeah,” he answers gruffly, finally freeing his second foot from the confines of his snug choice of footwear. He roughly places the discarded boots on the shoe rack before he stands. “Got sent home for the day.”

His short response only furthers your concern, and when he turns, you let out a gasp as you take in his massive erection.

There’s a brief moment of silence before you’re laughing, and Shouto is glaring at you, red tinging his cheeks and the tops of his ears. “What— Did one of your fangirls slip a Viagra in your water or something?” You snicker, approaching his brooding form.

Shouto closes his eyes and looks the other way, a sigh leaving his chest. You can see the way the breath leaves his body thanks to his tight hero suit, the muscles on his torso jostling the material and reminding you of just how ripped he really is. Meanwhile Shouto is trying his best to remain upright and collected, even though every inch of his body is screaming at him to fall into your arms.

“Jeez, baby, you want me to get a flag for that pole?”

You’re sent an icy scowl before he closes his two-toned eyes again. “Got hit with a quirk,” he growls through clenched teeth.

It’s then that you notice how stiff his entire body is, how his breath is labored and choppy. You’re jumping at him immediately, the need to touch him and make sure every part of him is alright taking over every cell in your body. “Shouto! Oh my god, Shou, are you okay?”

Your touch on him is too much, and his knees nearly buckle, his hands coming to grip your biceps. His lips are parted and his pupils are huge, a sinfully lewd expression on his face. “Fine,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a moan. Your thighs clench together, eyes widening as heat pools in the pit of your stomach. “Just really… hard,” he pants, his hold on your arms tightening.

You let out a reluctant breath of relief. He’s not hurt. Just… incapacitated. With lust. Tingles shoot through your body from your core at the thought of him so needy. “You’re sure you’re alright?” You ask again, and when he nods, a meek smile shapes your mouth. “Let’s get you to the bed, then.”

Shouto makes a strangled noise at the thought of you in bed with him, but he allows you to sling his arm over your shoulder anyways. You lead him into your shared bedroom after a few stumbles… and maybe a handful of bumps against the wall, too.

When you finally allow his weight to fall from your body, he collapses on the edge of the mattress, stifling a new moan as his ass hits the duvet. He reclines backwards, his hands covering his face and concealing his pink cheeks. “Y/N… fuck. You smell so good,” he gasps, reaching for you and catching your stare from between his slender fingers.

You let him pull you to him, knees pushing into the plush comforter on either side of his hips.

“I need you— shit, I need you,” Shouto whines, shoving his nose into your neck and wrapping his long arms around your back. He inhales your perfume, hard cock twitching between his legs. “Please, angel— touch me.”

And how could you refuse? Your hands move on their own accord, one sliding up to unzip his shirt and the other landing on the bulge straining through his pants. His hips buck at your touch, a long whimper escaping him as your fingers rub either side of his long length through his clothes. “You need me?” You ask quietly, the switch inside flipping instantly.

His chest heaves with each inhale, fingers pressing against the back of your neck to guide your lips to his. His kiss is timid, soft even— nothing like his usual affections. You can’t help the smirk that slides onto your mouth, excitement fluttering like butterflies in your stomach. You know what he wants. But you’re gonna pretend you have no clue.

“Yes,” Shouto croons against your mouth, tongue tracing the line between your lips lightly. “N-Need you so bad, please.”

You kiss the corners of his mouth teasingly, watching how he attempts to follow your lips with his own. “And what is it you need from me, Shou?”

His heterochromatic eyes are half lidded as he gazes up at you, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. A puff of frosty breath wafts over your face, cooling the heat that wanders there in accordance with his lustful stare. “Your cock,” he clarifies without hesitation.

He’s always been like that. An obedient sub; not one to beat around the bush.

His lips flicker into a smile as you chuckle, fingers stroking his smooth cheek. “Wow, you’re quite blunt, aren’t you?” You jest, pinching his flushed skin between your forefinger and thumb.

“And quite painfully hard.” His hips thrust up against yours, and his erection pokes into your stomach. He’s breathless, with barely enough energy to shrug off his top. But somehow he manages, wriggling out of the material and exposing his flexing torso to your starving eyes.

Before you know it, the pair of you are naked save for your panties, and you’re pressing your body against his on top of the sheets. Shouto’s head tosses back when your fingers touch his thigh, wandering up the length of corded muscle and tracing the base of his cock. His length twitches, reaching out and brushing against your palm as if his body is begging you to move your attention there. But you ignore it; you want to hear him beg.

You don’t have to wait long.

Shouto’s hips wiggle against the duvet, his hands sliding down and squeezing at your sides weakly. His jaw drops when your fingernail traces along the underside of his cock, the meaty thing slapping against your hand again. “Please,” he cries, muscles straining to keep himself from bucking into your grasp. His hair falls back onto the sheets, revealing a sheen of sweat collecting on his forehead.

Leaning down slowly, you take the pale flesh on his neck between your teeth and nibble, warm tongue lathering over the fresh marks. Your hand wraps around his cock and he whimpers in your ear. There’s a generous amount of pre leaking from his tip, and you glide your fist over it a few times before sliding back down onto his aching shaft.

Shouto’s lip is between his teeth, bright eyes slitted but unable to look away from where you’re gripping. Slowly, you jerk your hand up and down, and he nearly wheezes as your body slinks backwards, settling between his legs. “Y/N, oh— please Y/N, fuck,” he begs, craning his neck to look at you.

You hum and nod, lips pressing to his bright pink tip with a sultry smile. It’s not long before your lips part and his cock pushes into your mouth, tongue washing against his inflamed tip. He squirms on the sheets beneath you, fingers deftly curling into the fabric as he tries his hardest not to move. Opening your throat, you take him in further, coating his skin with your spit and closing your lips around his girth to form some suction.

His hips jerk upwards slightly before he catches himself, a choked whine tumbling from his ajar mouth. “S-Sorry,” he pants, the muscles that line his torso contracting, forming deep grooves that beckon your tongue to trace them.

You keep your mouth where it is, sliding along his hot length as it trembles between your lips. Tongue tickling along the underside of his cock, you spread his legs with one hand, pushing a thick thigh up to reveal his puckered hole. His toes curl in apprehension as your mouth pops off his length, and you’re sure to make a show of shoving two fingers down your throat, eyes demanding his own stay glued to you.

Licking his lips and audibly gulping, Shouto writhes underneath you, desperate to be touched again. “P-Please, angel. I’ll do whatever you want, just— please don’t tease me,” he pleads, almost shaking as your fingertip traces over his ass.

With a small smirk, you drop to your elbows, pressing your sealed lips on the very tip of his cock. In one smooth motion, you take his length into your mouth, your finger prodding into him and spreading his tight walls. His cock jumps violently in your throat as he cries out in pleasure, a hand slapping over his mouth and shoving a knuckle between his teeth. The noises that escape him are absolutely sinful, your finger and throat sliding deeper, deeper— until neither can go any further.

Shouto groans as you curl the digit, the pad rubbing against his gummy insides. You gag on his cock when his hips jolt again, saliva pooling against your tongue and dripping down his length. An elongated expletive slithers out of him, his fingers pushing his two-toned locks away from his face. “Feels so... good,” he whispers, voice heavy and carrying the weight of his lust.

He whimpers as a second digit pushes inside, your lips trailing behind your mouth as you frantically stuff him into your throat. It’s rare to see this side of your boyfriend, and though you want to savor every second of it, you also take pity on his desperate, quivering body. Whatever quirk was the cause of this, it seemed to be very potent— and you aren’t sure if he really meant that he’s so horny that it actually hurts, but you aren’t taking any chances.

Your fingers curl into his ass, wet with the slick spit from the back of your throat and gliding into his tight walls with surprising ease. “Please,” he sighs, legs parting even wider. You sit up, wiping your chin with the back of your free hand before you remove your fingers from him. He whines at the loss, hole twitching as if begging you to fill it again. “R-Ready for you,” Shouto pants, his hands looping behind his thighs to spread himself, giving you a better view of his most intimate parts. “Ready for your cock, please.”

You scramble off the edge of the mattress to grab the box underneath the bed— hands flailing in a blind search as you crouch, hard nipples dragging against the carpet. A look of glee crosses your face when your fingertips graze the sharp corner of the container, snagging the shoebox and dragging it out into the sunlight that streams through the half-closed blinds. Excitedly you open the lid, your heartbeat racing as your eyes land on the harness and thick, plastic cock. Clambering back onto the comforter, you shove your legs through the loops of the contraption, pulling the buckles to lay flat against your flesh.

Shouto’s wriggling into the middle of the bed, long fingers closing around his swollen cock as he watches you, hungry eyes dipping to watch your strap bob with each movement. The spit from your blowjob trickles down to coat his ass with a fresh layer of slick, but you still take a second to squirt a bit of lube onto the plastic cock, fist dispersing and warming it at the same time.

“You ready, baby?” You taunt, crawling over to sit in between his legs. You can feel your cunt drooling at the sight of him so submissive for you; laid-out and breathless, cheeks kissed with pink, and sweat beginning to form on his pale skin.

He nods vehemently, hand reluctantly leaving his cock in favor of spreading his ass for you again. His entire body shivers as you press the heavy head against his hole, the lube making it easy to circle his twitching entrance.

“Then tell me what you want.”

You lick your lips as his fingertips dig into the swell of his ass, a pained expression gracing his handsome face at your teasing. When he speaks, his voice is low and breathy, heavy with desire and dripping with sin. “Need you, angel… I— I need your cock... inside of me. Please, just—” he stutters, eyes locking with yours before he continues, tongue tracing over the bottom of his front teeth,

“Fuck me.”

Hearing him ask for something so naughty sends fresh, crushing waves of desire directly to your pussy, and it leaks onto your panties beneath the straps of your harness. Gently, you guide the head of your cock to press against his hole, watching as he stretches to welcome the thickness of your plastic cock, the tip disappearing inside of him. His jaw drops as he lets out a moan that bounces off the bedroom walls, loud and shameless. With docile thrusts, your strap slides deeper and deeper inside of him, the constrictive walls of his ass swallowing every centimeter of plastic eagerly. He can’t stop moaning, cock red and oozing onto his snow-like skin.

Once you begin to really thrust is when Shouto starts to get vocal. It’s not that he’s not vocal when he’s pounding his cock into your sopping cunt, holding down your limbs and commanding you to call him Daddy— but this, oh— this is something different. His breath is ragged, eyes rolling back under stupidly long lashes, legs shaking, toes curled as they dangle in the air. Your hands slide up the backs of his thighs, gripping the underside of his knees for leverage as your hips begin to pick up the pace.

Cock sliding deeper into him, he shouts abruptly, hands gripping your hips as he lifts his legs. His fingers wind tight on your hips, pulling you forward and shoving your strap further into him, the hilt slapping against him. “Fuck!” He sobs, head tossing back onto the pillows, exposing his throat for your eyes to take in the quick bob of his adam’s apple. Clicking your tongue at his impatience, you draw your hips back, only to surge forward again, ramming into him as deep as you can. “Fu— there! Fuck, right there,” he gasps, eyes opening wide to gaze up at you, glassy and imploring.

Your arm slips around his leg, hugging it flush against your chest, his calf bending around your shoulder while your pace begins to increase. Careful to swing your hips in the same arch as before, you’re rewarded as another whining groan is ripped out of him. “You’re such a good boy for me,” you purr, nails digging into the muscle of his thigh, watching the bead of pre at the tip of his cock become too heavy, rivulets dribbling down his shaft. Your other hand leaves his leg to wander up the straining muscles on his torso, fingertips especially curious as they examine the cute, pink nipples standing upright at the curve of his pecs. But you’re impatient too, and though his spine arches at your attention on the sensitive buds, your hand moves up further by its own volition, fingers itching to lace around his neck. You can feel him swallow against your palm, a choked whine vibrating through his throat.

“Just... for you, a-angel,” Shouto croaks, finally overwhelmed with so much pleasure that tears drip down the sides of his face, brow furrowed in bliss as his watery orbs shine up at you like glittering gems. He’s so sexy like this— falling apart underneath you, completely submissive, completely yours.

You fuck him like this for awhile— pace just fast enough so that he can’t complain, but nothing near your limit. You want to sear this image into your brain— him crying, whimpering, lost in the throes of the pleasure you’re providing. A dirty, nasty little secret to keep, only yours and his, forever. Pro hero Shouto, strong and masculine, a symbol of hope and justice— reduced to a subby, desperate slut who begs for your plastic cock to stuff his little hole.

Shouto’s symphony of moans pulls you out of your reverie, your eyes widening as you take in his red, flushed cheeks littered with tears. “Please,” he huffs, lungs barely filled with enough oxygen to force the word out. Your hold on his neck loosens, and he shakily sucks a breath of air in before continuing. “Please touch my cock— so close, feels so good, gonna— nngghh—” He’s resorted to groveling, meaning he’s really starting to get desperate now.

“You wanna cum?” You ask, biting your lip as his cock twitches against his toned stomach at just the premise of finishing. The tops of your thighs slap against the backs of his, increasing your tempo.

Shouto’s eyelids nearly flutter shut as his pupils cross in bliss, the intensity of your assault on his prostate proving almost enough to make him burst. “Pleasepleaseplease, fuck please, need you to— fUCK!”

Your cock rails him into the mattress, your lip bit in determination and his body trembling underneath your touch. Your hand finally wraps around his engorged length, immediately slick with the copious amount of pre that had leaked out of him as you begin to sloppily jerk him off. It’s hard to multitask; your attention bouncing like pinball between his pulsing cock, his hole clamping around your strap, and the downright pornographic expression twisting his features.

Without any warning, Shouto’s mouth parts in a noiseless scream, and thick, sticky ribbons of white spurt out of his cock. His entire body is quivering, knuckles white on the crest of your hips, his legs tightening around you and pulling you closer to him. His dick still throbbing in your moving hand, liquid evidence of his euphoria continues to gush out of his aching tip with so much force that a line of white lands on his flushed cheek.

Thrusts slowing to an easy stop, you smile at the wrecked man beneath you. He’s still trying to get his bearings, chest heaving as he attempts to even his breath. Setting down his leg beside your knee, you remove your hand from his hot, still-erect length, moving to slurp his cum off your fingers. “Aww, Shou. I barely got to play with your cock,” you whine, jutting your bottom lip out.

He blearily opens his eyes, gray and blue irises examining the bead of white smeared across your puffed-out pout. Letting out a labored laugh that really seems like more of a wheeze, his fingers finally loosen and slip from your waist, petting over your skin as a silent apology for holding on so hard. “S-Shit, m’sorry baby… I didn’t think I’d go that quick. This quirk is— god, it makes me feel so… needy,” he explains breathlessly, taking extra time between his syllables as if his brain is still hazed with lust.

Dipping down to trace your tongue over the cooled release on his cheek, you hum. “That’s okay,” you whisper, teeth grazing over his earlobe as you pull away. “Were you really so turned on it hurt?”

“It’s not like I was dying,” he tries to play it off as if you weren’t there to see him stumbling through the front door twenty minutes ago. He reaches up to cup your cheek with his large palm, the low heat from his quirk welcome against your skin. Leaning into him, you smirk, hips shuffling backwards. He winces as you pull your strap from him, sitting back on your heels to undo the harness once you’re all the way out.

Slipping your legs out of the strappy contraption, you bite your lip as cool air washes over your soaked panties. “Do you think… you could go for another round?” You propose meekly, hopeful eyes taking their time to meet his.

A white brow quirks upright at your inquiry, and he props his head up as his arms cross behind his head. “I honestly dunno if I can handle it, angel,” he says gently, letting a quiet groan loose as your tongue laves over the streaks of white on his torso.

“But look what you’ve done to me,” you whimper, sitting up to spread your legs over his hips, fingers snatching your panties to the side. Your slick forms syrupy spindles that connect your cunt to the soiled material, and your thighs glisten all the same, your arousal sticky and plentiful. “Don’t you think you should take responsibility for this mess?”

Shouto moans at the sight of you so ready for him, and it’s now that he remembers just how turned on you get from dominating him. He can’t exactly say he doesn’t feel the same— for he feels the blood rush to his cock again— and he examines the way your entire core shines with your honeyed essence, calling to him like a beacon of light in the midst of a dark and suffocating storm. “Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re soaked,” he sighs, reaching out to trace your slit with a fingertip. He groans loudly when he pulls away, watching as the slick forms a long strand before it finally snaps, the slimy substance gathering on his digit.

His hips jerk upwards when your cunt glides along his length, the heat emanating from your core a welcome feeling on his aching cock. It’s easy to slide yourself back and forth, slickening the prominent ridge on the underside of his cock. “Just for you,” you smirk as you use his words against him, grinding your core harder onto him. He moans at your playfulness, hands slipping across your skin as if he can’t decide where to put them. You move on top of him just long enough for him to get accustomed to it before you scoot backwards, hand reaching for that box again.

“Baby, w—” You cut him off as you place the tip of the new toy to his lips, grin broadening as his eyes widen and he takes in what it is against his mouth.

“Open up,” you instruct, a hand finding purchase on his jaw and your thumb rubbing the side of his mouth.

It takes a moment for him to decide to succumb to your instruction, and he slowly opens his mouth as you push the tip of the plug between his lips. It’s a rather long toy, the base of it cinched in order to keep it inserted at just the right depth. The length of it curls abruptly at the end, angling to press against the sweet, sweet spot inside of him.

Pressing the toy further into his mouth, you can feel his moan vibrate on the silicone, and you purr as he begins to gag on the curve of it. After a few moments you draw the toy back, satisfied by the way his saliva stretches in follow.

Shouto shuffles, lifting his ass off the duvet slightly as you slip between his legs again. Taking your time, you trace the tip of the toy down the inside of his thighs, taking note of how his muscles twitch in apprehension. After what seems like forever to him, you finally push the toy inside. This time it slides in easily, his ass having been stretched out already from your earlier ministrations. But that doesn’t stop him from whimpering as it slips into place, the base of the toy laying flat between his cheeks as you maneuver him to sit upright against the headboard.

Once he’s situated, you move your attention to his cock, which lays upright against the curve of his abs, forgotten and half-hard. Shouto only watches you slink toward him, an ominous grin on your lips. He groans when you swing one leg— then the other— over the junction of his hips, your palms landing flat on his hard chest for support.

Again, your lips meet. His kiss is gentle and weary, and you reciprocate with a softness he does not expect. It surprises him, in a good kind of way, and it also distracts him as you begin to grind onto his cock. Just as you had only minutes ago, your hips wave back and forth, dragging your saturated slit along his weeping length. It’s not long before he’s standing tall and thick between your legs, and you waste no time lining yourself up above him. Cunt swallowing him eagerly, the viscid muscles flutter as they spread to accommodate his tender length. Even without preparing yourself with your fingers, your ample arousal ensures that he slides into you without a single hitch, your ass meeting the tops of his thighs with satisfaction.

Shouto stifles a groan, solid biceps rubbing your skin as his arms wrap around your waist. He holds you tight against his chest, head bent over your shoulder as he breathes in your intoxicating scent. Pleasure courses through his veins, his cock sheathed inside of you, your skin on his, your smell invading his senses. Not to mention the plug in his ass, which at the flick of your fingers on the remote, begins to vibrate.

“Fuccckkk!”

The moan slips out of him before he can think to repress it, wanton and erotic. The vibrations send tingles through his entire lower half, causing his arms to tense and smoosh you even harder into his chest. While he’s trying to get accustomed to the intense euphoria rushing through his limbs, you’re eager to lift your hips and slam back down onto him. Shouto’s fingers clench on your waist as you begin to bounce on his cock, impatient to stimulate yourself after ignoring your own needs for so long.

His cock feels heavenly inside of you, stretching and filling you deliciously with every thrust. The constant string of moans in your ear doesn’t hurt either— any restraint he had previously harbored abandoned as his lips capture yours again. Tongue inviting your own to dance, you fulfill his wish as the kiss deepens— hot, wet muscles tangling together in his mouth.

The pace you find is perfect; each time your hips meet creating an explosion of pleasure. His length drives into you completely, balls doused with the slick that floods out of you. With every thrust, the plug brushes against that sensitive spot inside of him, and he mewls against your lips at the mind-numbing sensation. Stimulated and entirely overwhelmed, his hands knead at the flesh of your hips, head flying back to smack against the headboard, though he doesn’t seem to care.

“Ahha—haahhh, fucckkk,” Shouto mumbles, voice breaking as his mouth hangs ajar, tears forming at the corner of his lashes. You clench on his cock at his fragmented whines, morphing your thrusts into more of a roll, letting the tip of him grind into that spongy spot hidden far inside of you. “Y’feel so fucking good, oh god.” His chest is heaving, barely able to keep his eyes open to watch you above him.

You lean down and kiss his lips again, a smirk curling the corners of your mouth as you grind against him. Your slick clit grazes against his firm pelvis, and you begin to whimper just the same as him. “You took my cock so well, baby,” you pant, the coil in your stomach already beginning to compress at the memory.

He looks so good beneath you, tripping on his words as he tries to just breathe, but even doing just that is difficult with the sheer euphoria shooting through him. And you can’t help yourself; he’s so handsome, so submissive, and so completely yours. It makes your mind hazy with lust, entire being drenched in sinful desire as you watch him begin to unravel before your very eyes.

Your fingers find his throat again, caressing the sides of his windpipe and squeezing gently. “Y/N—” Shouto gasps, half an expletive choking out of him before he bites his lip, nails digging into your skin, “gonna… I’m gonna— I can’t—”

Switching back to your tempo from before, your hips crash onto his as you start to slam yourself onto his cock. He rasps, hands darting to cup your ass and lift you up, only so you can drop down onto him even harder. “Not yet,” you command, panting as you feel yourself getting closer, closer— so, so close!

Shouto looks physically pained to hold himself back, tears spilling over his cheeks to gather at the point of his chin, dripping to run down the valley of his abs. But he does, nonetheless, and somehow he manages to fend off his orgasm as your measured pace deteriorates. Sweat trickles down both your chests, and a large, shaky hand reaches for your breast and tugs at your nipple in desperation.

Finally the pressure snaps in your stomach, your vision turning white, and bright, little stars bursting at the edges of your peripheral. His name slithers out of your gaping mouth as your orgasm hits you like a train, and you have to remind yourself not to choke him too hard as your grip instantly tightens on his throat. Your cunt goes snug around his length, wringing the life out of his poor body as his eyes roll back into his skull.

Every muscle in his body tenses as he comes undone, the most obscene and lustful moan bellowing out of him. His load spills into your pussy, torrid ropes splashing against your twitching walls. His arms are around you again, pressing you flush against him tighter than ever as his mouth finds the skin on your neck, teeth sinking into your flesh with a long growl.

You stay in each other’s arms for a while, coming down from your blissful highs with dustings of slow, lasting kisses and touches across cheeks and collar bones. Flicking off the toy still buzzing in Shouto’s ass, you let out a shaky sigh as you lean back, his cock slipping out of you. His release begins to trickle down your ass, and you laugh as you hobble over to the en-suite, your hand cupping between your trembling, fawn-like legs.

Turning the knob on the shower, you hover over the toilet as you wait for the water to warm, the sound of the pressurized spray soothing to your sticky body and aching limbs. You jump when a forearm circles around your waist, a hand cupping your breast as your spine straightens against a broad chest.

“Shower, huh?” Shouto says, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. His calloused fingers travel along your front, strategically circling your areola and ignoring your pebbled nipple. “Good choice, bath sex is too messy.”

You snort at his remark, turning to raise a brow at him. But your eyes quickly fall south, widening comedically before your shocked gaze meets. “You cannot be serious, Shou.”

“I feel a lot better after two rounds,” he shrugs, opening the shower curtain and gesturing for you to get in first. “Not feeling as light-headed and weak anymore. Got enough energy to make you feel like that instead, angel.”

You end up tapping out halfway through the sixth round, and in desperate need of another shower.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

ngl writing this turned me the FUCK on so i hope it did the same for you! anyways can’t believe i finally wrote a pegging fic. send some holy water to my inbox or something omfg.

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#yall done it now. pandoras box #we oPEN IN THIS BITCH #todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto fic #mha smut #mha x reader #mha fic #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha fic #my fics

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justsomewritingblogg · 4 years ago

Text

Avatar:TLA (Part 19 of many)

Request: None

Requested By: Nobody

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Summary: Bitter Work

Warnings: Mild peril

Word Count: 1K+

Last Chapter - Next Chapter

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You were awoken but a weight suddenly landing atop you……again. Your eyes shot open, seeing Sokka on top of you, still in his sleeping bag.

“This keeps happening.” You muttered, voice groggy. Sokka leapt up, still in his sleeping bag, and hopped over to Aang, mumbling something about “running around”. He hopped over to Toph, muttering something about “making noises”. Frankly, it was incoherent. Sokka hopped away, still muttering to himself. Aang jumped, landing next to Toph.

“So, what move are you going to teach me first?” He asked. “Rockalance? The trembler? Ooh! Maybe I can learn to make a whirlpool out of land!” Aang exclaimed, doing hand motions for each move. Toph held an arm out, signaling for him to stop.

“Let’s start with……move a rock.” She suggested.

The Avatar clapped. “Sounds good. Sounds good!”

Toph led him away, going somewhere where you presumed it would be easier to earthbend. Katara followed, interested. You on the other hand, were more interested in getting more sleep. That whole instance with Azula a few nights ago was still taking its toll on you. You were still exhausted.

You heard a shout and sat up, seeing Aang had crashed into Appa. A small chuckle was heard moments later. You turned, seeing Sokka still in his sleeping bag, leaning up against the wall as the sleeping bag came over his head.

“Ha! Rock beats airbender.” He joked quietly.

“I don’t understand what went wrong. He did it exactly like you did.” Katara voiced.

“Maybe if I come at it from a different angle…” Aang wondered, beginning to move around the boulder. Toph grabbed his sleeve.

“No. That’s the problem. You need to stop thinking like an airbender.” She told him, hitting his forehead lightly. “There’s no different angle, no clever solution, no trickity-trick that’s going to move that rock.” She told him, pushing him over. “You’ve got to face it head on. And when I say head on, I mean like this!”

Toph jumped into the air, head-butting the boulder. It smashed into pieces. Your jaw dropped as your eyes widened in terror.

“Uh…..I don’t think I can do that.” Aang admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need to be blunt. You have to show the rock that you’re the boss, and you’re not afraid.” Toph told him. “And actually, that gives me an idea. Wait here.” She instructed. You watched as Toph used earthbending to get up the side of the cliff. She did a few hand and feet movements, creating a sort of slide in the mountain. She created a boulder, sitting it at the top before sliding down. She approached Aang. “This time we’re going to try something a little different.” Toph informed. “Instead of moving a rock, you’re going to stop a rock.” She spun around, facing him. “Get in your horse stance!” She demanded. Aang quickly widened his stance, getting lower. “I’m going to roll that boulder down at you.” She told him. “If you have the attitude of an earthbender, you’ll stay in your stance and stop the rock.”

You could see the look of terror settling on Aang’s face as he looked up at the massive boulder. “Oh boy.” You muttered, placing your head in your hands.

“Like, this.” Toph demonstrated.

“Sorry, Toph. But are you sure this is really the best way to teach Aang earthbending?” Katara asked, stepping forward.

“I’m glad you said something. Actually, there is a better way.” Toph grabbed Aang’s cloth around his waist, pulling it off and tying it around his eyes. “This way you’ll really have to sense the vibrations of the boulder to stop it.”

The look of surprise and fear on Aang’s face showed you that he didn’t approve of this method. Toph continued anyway. “Thank you, Katara.” She spoke.

“Yeah. Thanks, Katara.” Aang told her, a snappy tone to his voice. Toph, using earth as a launch-pad, threw herself to the top of the cliff. She pushed the boulder down. You watched as the large rock rolled, getting closer and closer to Aang. You chewed the inside of your cheek in stress. When the boulder was close, Aang jumped over it, the rock flying into a nearby wall. Toph came running down, no doubt about to scold him for not standing his ground.

“I don’t want to hear this.” You told no one in particular, standing and leaving, trying to find Sokka. “I wonder where he could have gotten to.” You muttered, wandering around a nearby forest. It wasn’t really a forest, per-say, but there were enough trees that you could get lost in it. You stopped walking when you heard a voice.

“-didn’t work out that way. I admit it, you’re cute.”

Silence followed. You recognized the voice as Sokka’s. You crept forward, seeing a small, brown creature sitting on your friend’s head.

“Okay….you convinced me. If I get out of this alive, it’s a comically correct, vegetarian existence for me. No meat. Even though meat is so tasty.”

The creature hopped off of Sokka’s head, running away. It was then you noticed that he was stuck in the ground, and couldn’t shoo away a fly that had landed on his head. You walked forward.

“Wow, did I hear that right?” You teased, emerging from the trees. Sokka whipped his head around to face you. “Sokka’s giving up meat?” You taunted, crouching down to his level and brushing the fly off of his forehead. The creature came back before he had the chance to respond.

“Hey! Looks like my karma’s already paying off!” He exclaimed. The creature dropped an apple a few feet in front of him. “It’s okay, I got it.” Sokka assured. He tried to pull his arms out of the hole to reach it, only resulting in several pained grunts and his boomerang getting squeezed out of its sheath on Sokka’s back. Sokka pointed at the weapon. “Now, come back, boomerang.”

You chuckled, picking up the apple and wiping it off, holding it up so Sokka’s mouth. He gratefully took a bite, chewing quickly before taking another bite. He acted like he hadn’t been fed in weeks. He finished the apple in record time, looking over at you as you tossed the core away.

“Do you think you could get me out of here?” He asked. You looked down at him, observing his predicament.

“I don’t think so.” You admitted.

“Well, could you please try?” He pleaded. You brought water out of your canteen, pouring it into the hole. “Not to question your methods, but what’s the plan here?”

“Will you wait?” You asked, looking up at him. You turned the water into ice. “Hopefully this will make you more slippery, so you’ll slide out.” You suggested. You reached forward, grabbing his hands. “On three. One, two, three!” You tugged, causing him to yelp in pain.

“Ow, ow!! He complained. You stopped, looking over at him. “Wait! I think I budged!” He exclaimed. “Try again!” He instructed. You reached forward, but hesitated.

“You sure?” You confirmed. He nodded. You chewed on your lip, reaching forward and pulling him some more, sliding him further out only slightly. You pulled with all your might.

“It’s starting to get cold!” He whined. You opened your eyes, (they were squeezed shut from the strain), seeing that he was slightly blue. You turned the ice back into water, bringing it back to your canteen.

“It’s getting dark.” You noticed, looking up at the sky. The creature, who you now know as Foofoocuddlypoops, was tugging on his ‘warriors wolf’s tail’. Sokka was getting desperate.

“Okay, karma person, or thing, or whoever’s in charge of this stuff. If I can just get out of this situation alive, I will give up meat, and sarcasm.” He pleaded. You cocked an eyebrow at his antics. “Ow!” He exclaimed as Foofoo pulled out his hair tie, letting his hair go wild. “That’s all I got! That’s pretty much my whole identity. Sokka: the meat and sarcasm guy. But I’m willing to be Sokka: the veggies and straight-talk fellow.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’ll be the day.” You muttered.

“Aang! Thank goodness! Have you got any meat?” You heard Sokka shout from beside you. You turned, seeing Aang rush over.

“Sokka! Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing Sokka’s hands and pulling.

“Ow! Stop! Stop!! You’re gonna pull my fingers off, but I don’t think the rest of me is coming!”

“Hm. I bet I could airbend you out of here.” He placed his hands on the ground as air flew out of the crevice Sokka was in. When the dust cleared, Sokka’s hair was straight up, until his weapons fell on his head, flattening his hair again.

“Seriously Aang, I know you’re new at it, but I could use a little earthbending here. How about it?”

“I can’t. I can’t do it.” Aang admitted softly.

“Well, if you can’t earthbend me out of here, go get Toph.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, venturing back into the forest to see if you could go find Toph. If Aang won’t, someone has to get Sokka out of there. When you finally made your way back to camp, you found Katara. “Where’s Toph?” You asked, approaching her quickly.

“I’m not sure.” Katara replied. “She said she was going to find Aang.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fantastic.” You mumbled. Katara’s eyes lit up, prompting you to raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“You found him!” Katara exclaimed, rushing forward and hugging Sokka. You turned, seeing Aang and Toph with him. You smiled, seeing your friend out of the hole.

“The whole time I was in that hole, not knowing if I would live or die, it makes a man think about what’s really important.” Sokka began. You cocked an eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips. “I realized-”

“Hey, Katara! Look what I can do!” Aang interrupted. He turned to the side, making some movements. A chunk of rock flew off of a pillar.

“You did it!” Katara exclaimed. “I knew you would!”

Appa suddenly roared loudly. Aang rushed over. “Appa! I can earthbend now! The key is to be completely immovable, both mentally and physically.”

The large bison licked Aang, knocking him over. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” You assured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Sorry it’s so short!

Tag List: @pizzamelon7384, @rissa-doodles, @chewymoustachio, @exo-nova, @90skid018, @hitsugayarose, @samanthadegaro, @casedoina, @bri-brithebumblebeee, @beeposstuff, @lunashaw57, @aamcqueeny, @anactualvelociraptor, @dnarez, @theferretkids, @fancyapricotcalzonepersona, @hyuckcherie, @bitchtits15, @rintheemolion, @panbelle, @littlemsrantsalot, @lovelyfuckingcunt, @h3llbunni

#Avatar #Avatar: The Last Airbender #A:TLA #Avatar: TLA #Zuko x reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #Zuko #Mara's works #My works

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katara0524 · 4 years ago

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Impromptu Ramblings about the NEO:TWEWY Demo

In case y'all weren't aware, I've been a pretty big fan of TWEWY for a couple years now, and with the sequel coming out next month, the excitement I feel for this game is greater than ever :) I played the Demo for the first time yesterday, and following a couple views of some livestreams of others playing it, I felt like sharing my (very ramble-y) thoughts prior to the release of the full game. This post WILL contain spoilers for both TWEWY and NEO:TWEWY, so if you want to avoid those from now on, please block the tags: #twewy spoilers, #ntwewy spoilers, #neo twewy spoilers, #ntwewy, and #neo twewy ^_^ Oh, and if you wanna keep up with any other posts I make about my experience with this game, please refer to the tag "kat plays neo twewy" :)

-First things first: I have not watched the Final Trailer and I don't plan on doing so to avoid spoilers, especially after the pre-release era of KH3 where a lot of the later trailers spoiled a lot of the endgame content. That being said, I've seen some minor screenshots from the final trailer including what many believe to be characters from the original TWEWY, namely Shiki and Joshua. That is all I know about the Final Trailer and I would very much like to remain as blind as possible going into NEO :)

-The very first cutscene was quite ominous in the sense that this game is likely going to be about "changing fate" (a recently common theme in Squeenix games, which I do appreciate), perhaps leading off from the end of A New Day in the OG and trying to stop an Inversion of Shibuya. Also worth noting that A New Day had similar aspects in which the main character experienced "future visions" of tragic events, although in A New Day these events were not able to be changed, while in NEO it seems like one of the main "powers" our protagonist has is specifically to rewrite these events and avoid a "bad ending." Very interesting indeed!

-I really like the revamped comic book style dialogue scenes, it's much more fluid and modern, which is an excellent direction for the series to take!

-I would love to have an actual PokemonGO knockoff of Final Fantasy creatures, please Squeenix that would be incredibleeeeee

-Also the LINE stickers??? Are so cute???

-I would just like to point out that Fret is an absolute treasure throughout this entire demo, he's hilarious and I will protect him with my life

-UHHHH don't like that Fret picked up some Reaper Pins just out of nowhere.....or the fact that they're apparently popular all over Shibuya.............did y'all not learn anything from the OG game or what lmao

-Okay so when I first got the "curry or ramen" scene and heard NPCs talking about the new curry place replacing the old ramen place I became IMMENSELY distressed that Ramen Don was totally cut from the game because....well, Ramen Don is a King okay?? But I'm glad to learn that no, he didn't fall off the face of the earth, he's still in business and he's the one opening the curry restaurant lolol. PHEW, crisis averted!

-.....I don't like the sudden appearance of a Wall Reaper and being able to read NPC thoughts. Wtf happened when they left the ramen place??? Are they playing the Game alive somehow?

-Okay so I have my own theories about this "Swallow" character and what they're up to but considering this is only the Demo and I still Have No Idea What's Happening, I'm just gonna say that I think Swallow intentionally led Rindo and Fret to the Crossing so they could join the Game. I mean, add in the fact that Swallow still communicates with Rindo during the Game and you've got yourself a suspicious character right there lol

-"Hey they're shooting off fireworks!" Fret honey that's not fireworks oof (see also: "*laughs* I'm in danger")

-WOOOOOO way to traumatize Rindo right off the bat like that LMAOO

-The visuals for the intro are VERY GOOD, the song is pretty decent until it gets all "screamo" (which I absolutely cannot stand sorry lol)

-Shoka is every Customer Service employee ever and I respect that

-Susukichi went from being "meh" to "WOW THIS GUY IS FUN" in the span of 10 seconds and I also respect that (he is also built like an Absolute Unit which is hilarious)

-The Wall Reapers (and just Reapers in general) seem.....way nicer and more helpful this time around?? Like in the OG the Wall Reapers were SO RUDE gfhjgjdfkhn and yeah I'm sure we'll get some like that but the juxtaposition of the first Wall Reaper in the OG compared to the first one in NEO is insane.

-The puzzles are quite a bit more entertaining this time around even if it's generally the same "fetch quest" formula lol

-"Rindo's Group" way to go Fret HFKJDGHSDFKJ mans really left the default name in there lmao

-OKAYOKAYOKAY so to those who aren't aware I am a MASSIVE SIMP for Sho Minamimoto, he's my absolute favorite and I think about him daily. HIS INTRODUCTION IS. INCREDIBLE. I LOVE IT SM.

-GOD hearing him actually SPEAK FULL SENTENCES is just SO SURREAL I love this sm

-Also the remix of his theme???? NEO TRANSFORMATION????? IT'S SO GOOD????????? It's like gone from a Boss Theme to a more triumphant sounding theme and I am HERE for it (every version of Transformation is just INCREDIBLE and getting a new one is even better)

-I Love Him, Your Honor

-Also idk how exactly but it's kinda weird seeing Sho in the OG vs NEO, cuz while he's mostly the same Insane Math-Obsessed Catboy, he's.....calmed down quite a bit?? Like OG made a whole point of how poorly he cooperates with others (not to mention just being completely unhinged and trying to kill everyone), whereas here in NEO he's......actually kinda working with others??? HELLO???? Sir what happened to you and Neku during those 3 years I would love to know all about it

-I guarantee you Sho is still probably scheming shite and will likely pull some total insane BS later down the road, and I am very much looking forward to that. Also, is he looking for a certain Pin or something??? Cuz he keeps talking about different Pins and even mentions "this is just another Psych Pin" like he's actively looking for a Pin to do something with. Maybe it also has to do with the "latent powers of Players" thing he mentioned as well??? What is this dude UP TO oml (also is he in contact with Neku at all?? they're both technically fugitives at this point right?? WHAT HAPPENED AFTER A NEW DAY I AM BEGGING YOU)

-I seems like Sho ALSO has an idea of what's going on in this specific game (even if he won't admit it straightforward). Per his quote "The game's 142,857. Factor it out," he's essentially saying, "This game is a neverending cyle, figure out how to get out of it" (or at least that's what I got from his "cyclic number" nonsense lolol)

-I do like how Sho mostly stays out of sight until he's needed for a battle or assisting with a mission, that's kind of on par with his whole "uncooperative" quirk from the OG, plus he might literally have to stay out of sight of other Reapers and Players considering he's likely breaking the rules of the Game (not surprising considering him and Neku broke practically every rule in the book during OG)

-The nicknames for Sho- I can't- They're so FUNNYYYY GFHJSDFKJ

-He goes from being called "Pi-Face" and "Tabooty" in OG to "Mr. Minami" and "M-Teezy" in NEO LMAOO

-(Wowee I just realized I've been mostly talking about Sho oopsies sorry y'all, this is what I meant by thinking about him almost daily he is THAT much of a fav of mine ghfkjsd)

-Okay RIP Fret and Rindo for not getting literally ANY explanation as to how the Game works OOF, that is kinda cringe that whoever gets the Pin earns points, not whoever erases the Noise (which like I understand but also URRRGGHHH I WANNA SEE THE SQUAD SUCCEED)

-"I should be going home now it's getting late" Oh you sweet summer child-

-Also love the mention of parents in this game???? KH you could learn a thing or two from TWEWY (poor Rindo's mom fhgjkdh)

-KUBO IS HILARIOUS I SUPPORT HIM AND HIS GROSS FACE (also thank you Final Trailer thumbnail for spoiling my suspicions about him very cool smh)

-Kaie is a LAD I also support him, go King type those funky texts I believe in you

-FRET PLS STOP SCANNING FHGJKSDHKJFGHFKJ he's like me when I scan in OG during Weeks 2 and 3 and see Taboo Noise coming after me ghfjdshfj

-Also Rindo can you stay off your phone for TWO SECONDS ik you're trying to figure things out but Fret is a jelly boi and I don't want him to be upset with you my guy

-Sho being an actual sorta mentor to the kiddos?? Who are you sir this is so unlike you ghfgskj what happened to the guy who tried shooting children in the face 8 times over LMAO (granted he's probably just using them but it's still nice to see him actually cooperating and sharing knowledge with the kiddos aaaaa)

-EYO EIJI OJI THE TIKTOK INFLUENCER IS BACK LMAO

-hgjkfshgkjf "we aren't glorifying capitalism on my watch" THATS SO FUNNY TO ME GFHJFSDGHJKS (also an all-orange ensemble is disgusting you deserve jail for one thousand years fkn Cheddar Goldfish Cheezit ass woman)

-WICKED TWISTERS NAME DROP EYOOO we love to see it

-gfhsgjf Poor Rindo embarassing himself for the sake of the Game that's incredible

-R e t u r n t o M O N K E. That is all.

-Dialogue during boss battles is HELLA cool i love that

-HHHHH THE KANON SCENE MADE ME A N G E R Y FRET STOP SIMPING MY GUY says the girl with a Literal Simp Encyclopedia and simps for pixels on a screen daily

-Can't wait to see the other Reapers :eyes emoji:

-CAN'T WAIT TO SEE NAGI MY BELOVED YEAHHHH WOOOOOO AAAAND that's about it for the demo lolol, I absolutely CANNOT wait for next month, this game is gonna be INCREDIBLE holy hell Prepare for more simping, more screaming, and more vibing from Yours Truly :) I fully intend on sharing more general thoughts like this on both Tumblr and Twitter so it's not just reblog-retweet-reblog-retweet with the occasional comment fhgskjd

If you wanna witness my insanity up close and personal I have a Square Enix Discord server called Sea Side Dreamers! You can look it up on Disboard, or you can add me on Discord @Katara0524#9244 for a direct link :) We have topics about Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, NieR, and ofc TWEWY (as well as other topics!), so if you want some good ol' chaos and chitchat, you're more than welcome to join!

#neo twewy #ntwewy #neo twewy spoilers #ntwewy spoilers #twewy #neo: the world ends with you #the world ends with you #twewy spoilers #twewy rindo #rindo kanade #twewy fret #tosai furesawa #twewy sho #sho minamimoto #long post #also shameless Discord plug lmaooo #kat plays neo twewy

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umbry-fic · 3 years ago

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kakurenbo

Summary:

"How do you always find me?" Colette would ask every time, pouting.

"Because I'm the best seeker around for miles!" Lloyd would declare, grinning.

Their disastrous first game of hide-and-seek, and a promise made between children.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Genis Sage Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Genis Sage Rating: G Word Count: 2565 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 27/09/2021

Notes: A short fluffy fic about hide-and-seek, featuring a lot of kids being kids!

~~~

Their first game of hide-and-seek, when Colette was eleven, was… something of a disaster. Even that was something of an understatement, considering the situation she found herself in now - shivering and alone.

Lloyd was the one to introduce it, like always, this game where one person covered their eyes and everyone else ran around like headless chickens. He was the one that coaxed her and Genis into trying out the games that they were all no stranger to - having spent many years peering out the window at the other children, caught in the middle of merriment - but had never experienced for themselves. He would clamour on about whatever exciting game had caught his interest at the moment, gesturing wildly, infectious energy spreading from him. So much, that even Genis couldn’t help but succumb, leading the three of them to make plans in hushed whispers during class, always in danger of getting an earful from Professor Raine but revelling in the thrill of it.

And then they would carry out their plans, clumsily, but always with childish exuberance flooding the air. Giggles bubbling from her chest while Lloyd grinned, Genis letting out a laugh of his own. It would end in disaster half the time - things just had a tendency to go awry when it was the three of them - sometimes burying them head-to-toe in mud, sometimes completely drenching them, and sometimes leaving them covered in tiny scratches and bruises, though they were never happier.

They never learned their lesson. Because they did it, over and over again, her and Genis always following Lloyd’s lead. It was so easy to fall into step behind him, to trust in him to bring them on fantastical adventures full of joy and wonder, that they had once barely known. Like he was a captain, leading his measly, but very enthusiastic crew, onwards with large, confident steps.

Which led to them starting an ill-advised game of hide-and-seek in front of Dirk’s house in the late afternoon after school, each one of them raring to win. Even the usually reserved Genis was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a competitive fire burning in his eyes. The matter of setting boundaries, one of the most important parts of hide-and-seek, had slipped their minds completely. Or perhaps it had never occurred to them at all, three children utterly lost in the heat of the moment.

The games their classmates played were always confined to the school grounds, the insistent ringing of the bell by Professor Raine a sign to stop or face her wrath.

Out here, there was no indicator for the game to end, no barrier as to how far they could wander. They could go on forever if they wished to, until they disappeared beyond the edge of the forest, perhaps even past the edge of the world.

And that was how Colette came to be sitting here, in this log that acted as her hiding spot, for the past two hours.

She’d been confident that no one would find her here - this massive log hollowed out by rot that she had only found by complete accident, tripping and tumbling head-first into this space on one of the days that she’d wandered into the fringes of the forest to get away from everything. She’d sat up rubbing her head, hoping there wouldn’t be a bump arising in the next few hours - only to find that she couldn’t see past the entrance of the log, wreathed in deep green, the overgrown leaves hiding her away from the world. Crawling out had revealed that the entrance was completely obscured, nigh invisible to someone who didn’t already know it was there.

It had become her go-to spot, when she just needed to be alone, to bury her face in her knees, let the weight of everything press down fully and leave her in the form of sobs that wracked her shoulders, her back trembling, here where no one could hear her.

Past the river, turning right at the stone that resembled Noishe, pushing past the branches that scratched at her skin.

The same path she had followed as Lloyd had bellowed out the countdown, hands cupped over his mouth and voice audible even through the denseness of the forest.

She’d sat here, relaxed with her legs stretched out before her, feeling ever so proud of herself. Her first game of hide-and-seek, and she would be clinching the victory!

That certainty had given way to doubt as time continued its inexorable march, each second almost tangible as Colette struggled to keep track of them. It felt like they were all piling atop each other, her mind sluggish as her eyelids grew heavy. The cold wasn’t helping matters - the morning had certainly started off more chilly than usual, but it hadn’t been this bad. The temperature must have plunged since she’d gotten here, and it was enough to make her huddle her knees close to her chest, rubbing her hands together as she shivered.

She knew she’d been here for too long, but she didn’t want to leave, an uncharacteristic stubbornness gripping her. It wasn’t fair that she was the one who had to leave and risk getting tagged! That would mean immediate defeat!

It wasn't fair... But nothing was fair...

No, she would stay here, she decided, clinging on to the idea of victory, of winning the bet that she’d made with Lloyd. She would be the one to snack on the last of Grandma’s odd number of baked cookies! No more would she have to duel Lloyd for the rights to it, a duel that usually ended with the two of them rolling across the ground, each aiming to subdue the other with tickles. The victorious would get to experience a delightful sweetness that melted in the mouth, while the loser had to watch the final mouth-watering cookie disappear.

She would spare herself the trouble this weekend by deciding things, here and now.

The heaviness continued to press on her, however, no amount of painting imaginary scenes of playful dogs on the walls keeping it away. The darkness claimed her not soon after, head falling slack against the wood behind her.

~~~

She awoke with a violent sneeze, the shivers returning in full force as she wrapped her arms around herself.

She registered a thudding sound overhead, and glanced up with bleary eyes. It appeared that sometime during her sleep, the heavens had opened up. It would certainly explain why it was so cold.

The roof appeared to be leak-free, thankfully, though there was a shallow layer of water filling the bottom of the log, even more slowly seeping in through the entrance. The bottom of her white robes was submerged, and she knew they’d be heavy if she attempted to stand, water falling off her in rivulets.

Colette had to concede by now that staying in here wasn't as comfortable as she'd once thought it would be, her legs starting to cramp from being squeezed in this position for so long.

Where were Genis and Lloyd? Was Genis still hiding, or had he been found? And what about Lloyd? Was he still running around everywhere, poking his head in every nook and cranny, peeking around every corner, trying his very best to find her?

Or had he given up entirely?

That last thought sent something dark crawling into her heart. And no matter how much she told herself that it was just a stupid fear her tired mind was conjuring up, for she knew she wouldn't be stuck in here forever, knew that she would most certainly be seeing her friends again... It was futile. The cold could only spread, a cold deeper than the shivers she currently felt.

She was alone here. Alone, in a way she hadn't been for a long time. She hadn't realised, just how much she would miss the company of her friends when they weren't by her side.

Was this what it would feel like, once she left everyone behind? She would be all alone then too. Where no one could see her, or hear her, or even know where she was... Where the only thing she knew would be silence, eating away at her...

She buried her face in her knees, but there were no tears this time. She was too tired to move, and it felt like she was gradually becoming as motionless as the wood that surrounded her.

Slowly rotting…

The rustling of leaves at the entrance gained her attention, her head raising as she realised that the thudding had grown significantly softer in the time that had passed.

She watched, as slowly, a hand poked through the curtain of green, followed by a familiar head of brown hair, and then the entire body of a boy, tumbling to a stop before her. It was almost strange to gaze upon a human again after not seeing one in so long, but it was just Lloyd. Familiar old Lloyd, if a very drenched Lloyd, hair falling into his eyes and clothes two shades darker than usual.

"I finally found you! Wow, this is a good hiding spot," Lloyd said in a whisper as he picked himself off the floor, unwilling to talk loudly in the sacred confines of the log. Only to bang his head against the top of it, letting out a little squeak as he quickly sat down, rubbing his head sheepishly.

"It's my private little spot," she whispered back, smiling at Lloyd’s antics. The words felt a little foreign in her ears after such a long period of silence, but it felt good, to finally say something. To hear her voice again.

"Oh! Sorry for intruding..." The tip of Lloyd’s ears flushed a little red, his expression shifting minutely. Why, she didn’t know.

She only knew that it made giggles burst out of her, the strange misery that had been filling her chest vacating instantly like it had never been there, the hole it left behind filled with that bright happiness she always felt in Lloyd's presence. "Don't be silly, Lloyd. I'm glad you found me.”

I was starting to think you never would…

"I'm glad I found you too! I promise, I'll always find you!" Lloyd declared with a confident grin, his hand grabbing hers. And despite the droplets of water rolling down his hand - for he must have been looking for her even in the heavy rain - his fingers were so, so warm. She couldn’t help but grip onto his hand tightly, letting the ever-present warmth he exuded chase away the cold biting into her bones, let it stop the shivers, even if for just this moment.

“Now, let’s go home,” he said gently, leading her out into the open, the word “home” echoing in her heart. Always leading her, with her hand in his. It was how she knew she was safe.

In the outside that she’d nearly forgotten existed, rainwater dripped from leaves, creating an almost mini-shower that landed on her face and made her blink.

“Where’s Genis?”

“Oh, he was hiding by the riverside. I found him pretty quickly! He’s gone home. But, uh,” Lloyd muttered, averting his gaze. “Your father’s here. You’ve been gone for quite a while.”

“I see…” she murmured, head bowing.

Father would no doubt scold her harshly once she got home. The Chosen wasn’t supposed to partake in such frivolous activities, not least ones that endangered her. Such irresponsible behaviour wouldn’t be easily forgiven by the Church.

“It is my fault for not setting a time limit! Dad’s hammered that into my head already, so I can just tell your father that!”

“No, it’s fine,” Colette replied, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I was the one who decided to stay in there for so long.” She couldn’t even explain it now, why the need to do so had been so strong, so insistent. It had been a foolish thing to do.

Some strange act of defiance, nothing more than a childish impulse - the kind not allowed of the Chosen.

“Hey, it’s not that serious!” Lloyd retorted, chasing away her thoughts as the two of them fell into a playful argument that lasted until they left the darkness of the forest and stepped back into the dim light of the evening, washing the world in a coat of warm orange and pink.

Most people would label this a terrible experience. One that ended in Father berating her, and both her and Lloyd falling victim to a terrible cold, as Genis lamented having gone along with everything.

Yet she cherished it anyway. The aftermath wasn’t all bad, after all. Lloyd had recovered first, and spent the days where she remained on bedrest sitting by her bedside, feeding her cookie after cookie, taking none for himself. “A treat,” he exclaimed, waving another cookie in the air and dropping crumbs everywhere as she alternated between sneezing and laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

And she couldn’t help but paint the promise Lloyd had made into vivid memory, memorise the warmth of his hand.

Though she never did figure out how he found her.

The answer to that question continued to elude her in future hide-and-seek games, where Lloyd never failed to sniff out her hiding place, no matter how hard she tried. Scarily fast too. Maybe he just possessed a good eye?

In response to her grumbling and pouting, he would only grin. And declare, “Because I'm the best seeker around for miles!"

He never made mention of the promise he’d made her. To him, surely it must have been nothing more than a trivial turn of phrase, not to be taken seriously and easily forgotten.

That was alright. It was enough for only her to remember, and to continue having fun with her friends, in the time she still had left.

~~~

"Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around Lloyd, glad to feel his warmth again after weeks of empty coldness. "For... finding me."

How strange of her, to put it that way. What Lloyd had done was tirelessly work to restore her soul, to let her take control of her body again instead of being locked behind a thousand chains. But it truly felt like he had reached into the darkness and found her, pulled her out into the light.

Just as he’d done when they were little children still filled with naive hope, in the hollow of a log. And countless times after. Always leading her, back into safety, back into the world, back home. Sometimes playfully, sometimes desperately, but always, always ensuring he never let go.

She felt Lloyd's laughter reverberate through her, shaky but full of joy.

"I promised, didn't I? That I would always find you."

How silly, she thought, burying her face in his chest as laughter shook her shoulders as well. How silly that he would still remember such a trivial little promise. How silly of the both of them. Like it meant the world to him in the same way it did to her.

His hands resting on her back, he pulled her closer, and she could not be any more at peace.

Here, where she was safe in his arms. Here, where hope still shined strong, and childish joy still thrived.

Here, where she never needed to hide, and so would never be lost again.

#fanfiction #one shot #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #genis sage #yeah this is a lot of posts at once #but today has been emotionally draining #and this is just something nice to do

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mexicancat-girl · 5 years ago

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Ok guys, I can't take it, I’m seriously at my limit here.

Uraraka vs Bakuboi was a sham of a fight and none of it makes any goddamn sense.

Uraraka deserved her win, for multiple reasons.

Shout out to @bnhasalt, who’s post reminded me how indignantly furious this arc makes me.

More under the cut over both how salty I am, and how Uraraka losing against Explodo Kills makes absolutely no sense, even narratively.

(Warning ahead for a discussion on sexism, misogyny, forced fanservice, the blatant favoritism towards That One Specific Character even if unearned in the narrative, and the general incompetence on how to write female characters.

I call B/kugo “Bakuboi” in this analysis bc I don’t want to write his Actual Name out and have it pop up in his character tags. Also, heads up, I’m sorry for how messy and long this rant is )

First, can I just say that Horikoshi is uhhhh Bad at writing female characters?

Which I’m sure many female fans already have an inkling about, but goddamn is it never more obvious than in the Sports Festival Arc. Because hey, at least the female characters are THERE and PARTICIPATING and have their own time to shine! This ISN’T one of those arcs that just stars THE BOYS, so that MUST mean this arc is equal opportunity! Right...?

God, I wish. I wish...

See, the girls are the minority of the Sports Fest in general. It shouldn’t be this way. And quite frankly, the fact that the classes (and UA in general) isn’t closer to being a 50/50 gender split also makes no sense, considering all children are raised in a society that values heroism EQUALLY and almost half the population is male and half female.

But, okay, let’s say I actually believe in the most illogical character ratio imagineable of there being a 2 boy to 1 girl, like this is another round of Naruto But It’s Superheroes So It’s Different I Swear.

We all know that there is going to be an emphasis on Izuku, since he’s the protagonist and he wants to make All Might proud during the Sports Festival.

Pre-Festival, there’s the reveal that Uraraka wants to do her best, with her main motivation of becoming a hero to give her parents a good life. Iida also wants to make his own family proud, specifically his brother, because of his family legacy.

Since these three are a trio, you’d think they’d all get some time to shine, right? Since they’re Izuku’s friends? And Izuku considers them his equals?

Yeah, no. Wrong.

This arc is dominated by Izuku, Shoto, and Bakuboi. That becomes clear very quickly.

I knew I shouldn’t expect much, since these three are powerhouses and also the most popular characters of the entire franchise (just look at the popularity polls) but still. I’d thought at least Uraraka would get a chance to shine! Since we get some character development and motivation revealed from her!

But the female characters in general get done so dirty this arc, despite it being first set up as a perfect arc to let the girls have just as much opportunity to participate as their male peers.

The most significant part of the female characters all getting an ‘equal time to shine’ is when He Who Must Not Be Mentioned and Kaminari trick the girls into dressing as scantily-clad cheerleaders. Which is both Tiring and Unncessary.

(This scheme also shouldn’t have worked because Momo is Vice Rep and she is an intelligent girl, top of her class. She would be smart enough to go to a teacher and actually double-check to see if Class 1-A girls really needed to cheer in the activities portion of the Sports Festival.

But noooo, Horikoshi can’t pass up a chance for FANSERVICE and forcing his underaged female characters to be uncomfortable for The Funnies! Thanks! I hate it!)

The female characters that move onto the final round of the Sports Festival, and thusly have the most attention, are: Uraraka, Mei Hatsume from Support, Momo, Mina, and Shiozaki from 1-B.

Wow, I sure wish these girls could like...show their worth. And maybe NOT get steamrolled and easily tossed aside in their matches because they’re facing Boys and Boys Have Strong Offense-based Quirks, That’s The Rules Folks.

(Before you come at me, I know that isn’t a rule that applies to every single male character in the series, but the strongest and offense-based Quirks tend to go to the male characters, while the female characters tend to get more support-based Quirks. It’s both sexist, but also an inherent trend in media in general. Please Just Let Women Punch Shit To Smithereens And Control The Elements.)

Yes, Mina and Shiozaki won their first rounds easily! And that’s great to see! But then we turn right around, and they're eliminated just as quickly in their second matches! Without even a fighting chance!

Good God, Shiozaki is literally PUSHED OUT OF THE RING. That’s it, that’s how she lost. Same thing with Momo in her match! And Mei straight-up forfeits because her character is based more on advertising her inventions/babies, so she doesn’t even fight.

So essentially, the female characters are shucked away if they’re not used to make the male characters look good, or there for fanservice, or there to show a shallow form of ~feminism~ so Horikoshi can pat himself on the back and say “See! Girls strong! I can write girls!”

And now we get to the meat of things: Uraraka.

Oh, poor Uraraka. Out of all the female characters, your potential was the greatest, and also the most squandered...

As a reminder, at the start of the arc, Uraraka speaks with both Izuku and Iida about how she wants to do well in the Sports Fest. They all promise to do their best. Izuku’s friends admit that they want to face him in later matches, because they want to be his equals.

Uraraka wanted to stand on the same level as Izuku and Iida, but she's the only one that doesn't move on past her first match!

And man, what an absolute bogus match it is.

Is it emotional? Yeah. Did I tear up when I watched it? Sure, every single time! But that's more because Uraraka is one of my favorite characters and I feel empathy for her and thought she deserved better.

The match gets to me because I also hate how Bakuboi is so fucking entitled and gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

Bakuboi himself is written as, essentially, a Gary Stu. He always wins. ALWAYS. And even when he ‘loses’, he still manages to beat his opponents to the point that they need to be hospitalized (see Izuku vs Kacchan pt 1) or he makes his losses ALL ABOUT HIMSELF by twisting logic to fit his own narrative.

Remember how Bakuboi won against Todoroki in the final match? And was so pissed at him he was ready to Physically Assault Todoroki for him not being able to Get Over His Trauma to go 100% during their match? And even though Bakuboi LITERALLY won the entire Sports Festival, he’s so entitled that he demands a rematch because he feels like he “didn’t actually win”?

Not wanting a rematch for Todoroki’s sake, because Todoroki has been through a rough time and Bakuboi overheard Todo’s Tragic Abusive Backstory. Oh no, that would make too much sense and show too much character growth, we can’t have that! Bakuboi, even when winning the Sports Festival, demanded a rematch because he wanted to beat the shit out of Todoroki AGAIN to assert his dominance.

You see, Bakuboi is always rewarded in the narrative. Even when he loses it’s not seen as his fault. He’s never really punished for it, and he never learns any lessons from his losses.

Ah, and let’s not forget, Katsuki Bakuboi has the Best And Strongest Quirk Ever. Strong enough to even do the impossible and work to his advantage when it shouldn’t!

Like how he SOMEHOW manages to ‘beat the odds’ by breaking the laws of physics to win in Round 2. He manages to PUNCH THROUGH A QUIRK THAT CREATES A SOLID WALL from 1-B’s Tsuburaba in order to get back his team’s headband and move on to Round 3.

Or hey, his finishing move, Howlitzer Impact? Doesn’t make any sense either. It shouldn’t work as a...cyclone? Tornado? Drill thing?

Look, the logistics of it shouldn’t work. Yes, this is anime, but do you HONESTLY think that a teenager YEETING himself in a fast spiral will somehow accomplish anything more than spreading out some explosions in a circle around him? You honestly think any other character would be able to pull that bullshit off WITHOUT upchucking their entire lunch?

But because it’s Bakuboi, it works somehow. Because Bakuboi’s Quirk is The Shining Beacon Of Quirks.

Drawbacks? Sure, he SUPPOSEDLY has them. They’re noted in his character profile and everything. But very rarely do those supposed “drawbacks” ever actually come into play and actually, like, stop him. Or slow him down. Or, yknow, ACTUALLY WORK LIKE DRAWBACKS ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK.

Because apparently, human limits don’t exist for Katsuki fucking Bakuboi, nope, not at all!

One of Bakuboi’s "drawbacks" is supposed to be that he can't overexert himself or he can fuck up his wrists/his forearms will start to ache.

Cool cool cool, except...This rarely slows him down or effects him at all.

It’s actually astounding he hasn’t given himself Carpel Tunnel, because that would be a natural consequence to over-using his Quirk. Hell, he should be fucking up his arms almost as much as Izuku does to his own arms with a destructive Quirk like OFA! Explosions are dangerous and cause massive destruction, and that should be fucking up his arms SOMEHOW!

But, nope. Bakuboi is as fresh as a goddamn daisy. He can Never Have A Weakness.

(Another drawback is cold weather/Winter season is supposed to weaken his Quirk. Makes sense, since heat would help him produce more nitroglycerin sweat, and the cold would make it hard to sweat. But that sure as hell didn’t stop him during the Joint Training Arc in the future, and he didn’t struggle whatsoever to almost singlehandedly win that for his team.)

Not ONCE does Bakuboi’s Quirk ever effect him negatively and forces him to weaken! He keeps using his Quirk like it's nothing!!

And that’s the crux of the entire problem with Uraraka vs Bakuboi’s match.

Bakuboi apparently has “drawbacks” and “limits”, but he keeps somehow managing to break them without a sweat (ha) and without consequence, essentially PULLING WINS OUT OF HIS ASS.

Bakuboi was using his Quirk LITERALLY NONSTOP during Round 1, and kept using it to throw himself around in Round 2. Logically, he should’ve fucked his arms up and been at the very least SLOWED DOWN by the third round of the Sports Fest because he went past what were SUPPOSED to be his Quirk’s canonical limitations and logic!

It would've taught Bakuboi that he can't fucking steamroll through all his problems! He has limits! There are consequences to over using his Quirk! He’s a human being and he doesn’t have endless stamina like some sort of God!

Hell, every other character has these limits very clearly shown and outlined with their Quirks! Uraraka throws up when she over-uses Zero Gravity. Shoto, before using his fire side, would get frostbite. Iida’s Engines will stall after using Recipro Burst.

The other characters have limitations to their Quirks that slows them down, shows consequences for their actions, but Bakuboi NEVER HAS ANY.

THIS is why he’s a Gary Stu. THIS is why he won his match against Uraraka.

Not because of any logic. Because HIS QUIRK HAS NO FLAWS. And on top of that, THE NARRATIVE KEEPS REWARDING HIM, EVEN WHEN HE HASN’T EARNED IT.

Bakuboi SHOULD have been weakened from using his Quirk non-stop. Bakuboi SHOULD NOT have managed to pull out that “one final big explosion” that ruined Uraraka’s final attack.

Bakuboi was literally hissing about his arms hurting earlier, before their match started. And Uraraka forced him to use his Quirk so much that she managed to amass a ton of debris to knock him out and win the match. HIS EXPLOSIONS SHOULD HAVE SPUTTERED OUT, AND NOT SAVED HIM WITH THAT LAST-SECOND ASSPULL.

Like, I’m preeeeetty sure the entire reason Horikoshi wrote Uraraka vs Bakuboi in the first place was because he was attempting at writing Feminism.

See, Bakuboi Hates Everyone Equally, he’s not a violent misogynist for beating up Uraraka! It’s a Match, he Respects Women And Sees Them As Equals! The Crowd of Pro Heroes are the ones being Misogynistic and Judging The Match Early!

And look at Uraraka, she’s a Strong Woman! She keeps getting back up! That’s the Shonen Spirit! And she’s smart, too! Look at her amazing plan to win--

Oh, wait. Wait, nope. She didn’t win at all! :) Because our shining beacon of perfection Katsuki Bakuboi never loses!! :)) Look at all her hopes and dreams being blown to literal smithereens, because of Bakuboi’s ass pull, even though he shouldn’t have had enough time, sweat, and strength to muster up that last explosion!!! :)))

Can ya’ll feel my incandescent fury right now?

Because Horikoshi can NEVER write Bakuboi losing, Uraraka COULDN’T HAVE WON, even if her winning makes THE MOST LOGICAL SENSE.

This scene was supposed to show Uraraka’s strength. But it feels like Uraraka is being literally spit in her face, for even DARING to TRY to win against Katsuki fucking Bakuboi.

How much more impactful would Uraraka’s breakdown have been, if she had moved onto the Second Round with Izuku and Iida? How she would feel ashamed that she couldn’t keep up with them, with how Powerful their Quirks are? Especially after seeing Izuku and Todoroki’s amazing match, and seen how destructive and close a match it had been?

How DEVASTATED she would have felt, beating BAKUBOI--one of the strongest of their class!--and then STILL managing to lose the Sports Festival?

That would have been SO much more interesting! And even SADDER!! C’mon!

Uraraka SHOULD have won her match! It would’ve provided both character development for herself, and for Bakuboi! Bakuboi would realize he has limits to his body and Quirk, and realize not to underestimate his opponents! Uraraka would realize that she’s strong in spite of her Quirk not being necessarily combat-oriented, but still has a long way to go in being a Pro Hero!

But, nooooo. We can’t have CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, can we? We ESPECIALLY can’t have THE FEMALE CHARACTERS IMPACTING THE PLOT IN SOME WAY, either! Or--what’s this? FEMALE CHARACTERS ACTUALLY HAVING THE SPOTLIGHT FOR ONCE? Perish the thought!

The only good parts about this godforsaken arc are 1) Mei Hatsume 2) Hitoshi Shinso and 3) Izuku vs Todoroki fight and Todoroki’s Tragic Backstory Reveal. Everything else is hit-or-miss, if not completely hot garbage.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED Talk, and for reading this entire thing! Four for you, reader. You go, reader.

417 notes · View notes

wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

Photo

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Tagging: @stahlop @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Chapter 2: On Your Feet for the Captain

Killian stood at the base of the plank staring up at the large ship he was about to board. He marveled to think that he, Killian Jones, was about to Captain such a large vessel.

“Can I help you?” Killian turned to his left and down at the short girl staring up at him.

“Sorry, Lass, just admiring the view. She’s a beauty.” He gestured toward the ship in front of them.

“She’s a game changer.” The woman marveled. “State of the art medical equipment. Best in her class.”

“Aye, so I’ve been told, do you work in the Medical center?”

“I do. Name’s Tink Bell.” She announced with an enthusiastic smile. “Are you working on the ship?”

“Aye, I’m her Captain.” He nodded to the girl and looked back up at the massive ship. “It’s nice meeting you, Lady Bell.”

“The girls are gonna get a kick out of you.” She mused, staring at him adoringly before she headed up the plank.

“A goddamned love cruise.” He groaned and mumbled to himself as he followed her up the plank.

“Welcome aboard Captain.” The man greeted him at the end of the gang plank.

“Thank you, can you direct me to my quarters? I’d like to drop off my things before I head to the bridge.”

“Certainly, sir, follow me.”

Killian followed the man through the narrow hallways, his hands lightly teasing the walls as he examined every nook and cranny of his new lover. When he was left alone in his quarters, he stood on his balcony, inhaling the smell of the sea. “Ok girl, I promise to take care of you, if you take care of me.” There was a knock on the door.

Opening the door revealed a man in a white uniform. “Good afternoon, Captain, they are ready to provide the brief on the bridge.”

“Thank you, I’ll be up there in a minute.” The man left him alone and Killian changed in silence into his uniform. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he exhaled and headed to the bridge. He loved the quietness of the ship only the crew on board before allowing passengers to board, he passed many of his crew members, nodding as they strolled by him along the way.

As approached the bridge, he whispered under his breath. “Ok Jones, get your shit together.”

“On your feet for the Captain.”

His chest puffed as he entered the bridge. He had to admit, he felt like a schoolkid walking into the room. Listening to his First Mate, Smee, walk through procedures was almost like a drug to him. When the report was done, he made his way through the ship, introducing himself to each member of the crew he met. When he made it to the atrium, he spotted Robin standing at his desk.

“Well, we made it.” He remarked. “Ready to witness all the debauchery and indecency my heart can handle.”

“Captain Jones, these next two weeks will be a defining moment of our lives.” Robin proclaimed, holding his hand to his heart.

“If I survive the next two weeks, that may be my defining moment.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Killian turned toward the angry voice, seeing Regina Mills making a beeline toward them. “Why are you here?” She glared at Robin.

“Hello, M’Lady, we meet again. You are still as ravishing as the last time I saw you.” Killian rolled his eyes; his friend was really laying it on thick.

“Don’t M’Lady me, why are you here?”

“I work here.” He announced proudly. “Looks like you and I will have plenty of time to get to know each other finally.”

She scoffed, “Not on your life, it’s a big ship, just steer clear of me.” She turned to face Killian. “I see he brought his whipping boy with him. Whatever did they hire you two to do? Cook, entertainer,” She turned with disgust at Robin. “Janitor.” She said looking down her nose at him.

“You might want to offer a bit more respect to your Captain.” Robin said with a shrug.

“You?” She said in horror.

“That would be me.” Killian interjected, holding out his hand. “Captain Jones. I don’t think we’ve officially met, last time I came in right about the time the liquid started flying.”

She paled slightly. “I hope you have better manners than this one.”

“Aye, I’ll ensure he behaves this time, Ms. Mills.”

“See that you do.” She added before stomping away.

“Maybe this is going to be more fun that I thought.” He mused as Robin’s eyes followed her adoringly until she rounded the corner and disappeared.

~*~

“So, you’ll be here when I get back from camp?”

Emma looked over at her son’s face, his small round features staring at her expectedly. “Of course, sweetie, I’ll be home before you even get back from camp.”

“Good because I want to tell you all about it when I get home.”

“And you know how much I love when you give me all the details.”

“And the ship won’t sink right?”

“Henry, we’ve talked about this, the ship won’t sink. People go on cruises all the time.”

“I just want you to come home to me.”

“I will always come home to you, Henry.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you too, Peanut.”

Emma dropped Henry off at Granny’s, kissing him on the forehead and getting in a cab on her way to The Wooden Nickle to meet with the rest of her group.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” August teased her as she entered the bar.

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to skip out on a challenge.” She shrugged, “Besides, I’m just going to have fun with my friends.”

“I’m happy you agreed to do this.” He said honestly. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy, August.”

“So, you’ve said.” He said simply as Ruby and Will came stumbling into the bar, their hands full of luggage.

“My God, it’s two weeks, not two months.” August teased.

“You can’t limit me to one outfit a day. There are going to be men I have never met on this ship; they haven’t seen all my outfits.” Ruby complained with a pout.

“Explain that to the bloody person who has to carry all this garbage.” Will dropped the bag from his hands onto the ground.

Behind them David walked in the door with his suitcase, staring at the array of bags at Will’s feet. “I thought we were only going for two weeks?”

~*~

Killian read through his checklist from his seat on the bridge. He glanced at his watch; they would be boarding passengers in the next 30 minutes. He felt the familiar flutter of butterflies as he called out items from his list to confirm they were ready to sail. He was excited and nervous to Captain such a large vessel. The sea was the place that he felt the most at peace.

Perhaps that is why he moved into a houseboat after Milah’s death, despite the protests from his brother and Robin.

He couldn’t imagine sleeping in the bed they shared with her no longer there. He also couldn’t sleep there without waking up in a cold sweat remembering the night the phone rang, an unfamiliar person offering him condolences. His wife gone in an instant from an aneurism. There were no goodbyes, no last kiss, she was just gone in a single heartbeat.

But he had to admit that he wouldn’t miss his bed on the houseboat either. Robin had been honest about the size of his quarters on the ship. Perhaps the next 3 months at sea would be a good change for him, a chance to get his head right.

“Sir, passengers are boarding now.”

“Thank you, First Officer Smee, let’s run through the rest of the checklist.”

~*~

“Name and Identification please.” The portly woman standing behind the counter of the cruise ship terminal stood waiting for their documents as they checked in.

“Ruby Lucas.” She announced, handing over her ID.

“Emma Nolan.” Emma passed the ID to the woman.

“I can’t believe we are about to get on that for the next two weeks.” Ruby stared up toward the ship and Emma had to admit it was quite impressive standing below the immaculate ship.

“I hope I don’t get seasick. Do you think I should take my Dramamine now?”

“The worst of it should only last for the first 48 hours.” The lady behind the desk offered. “But I would take it before you get on board. It can be quite disorienting at first.”

Emma dug in her bag, popping the pills into her mouth, and swallowing with the last gulp of her water bottle.

“Alright ladies, you are all set. Here are your cruise ID’s, these will open the door to your room so don’t lose them.”

They finished signing their documents and met up with the boys who had all checked in before them.

“How come you get your own room?” Will was whining as they joined the group.

“Because I paid for this whole trip.” August shrugged and Will winced.

“Works for me, I guess we’re roomies Mate.” Will patted David on the shoulder.

~*~

“Oh my God, look at this room.” Ruby threw herself down on the bed as soon as they entered their room.

“Wow, August must have paid a pretty penny for this.” Emma was astounded at the room, complete with a small sitting area and large balcony.

“This is going to be the best two weeks ever.”

While Emma was nervous about being away from Henry for so long, she knew she would have been away from him at home while he was at camp anyway. At least this way she could distract herself and she had to admit, being on board this luxurious ship was not a bad way to do it.

There was a knock on their door and Ruby jumped up to answer it. “Hello Beautiful.” Will was leaning in their door frame, he was wearing the most ridiculous looking button-down shirt, covered in palm trees and flamingos.

“What are you wearing?”

“It’s my vacation look, like it?” He modeled his shirt, walking through their room and spinning quickly as he got to the other end. “My shorts are khaki.” He ran his hand down his shorts and back up to his shirt. “And this, is the money maker.” He flipped the collar up on his shirt. “Now, which one of you ladies is escorting me to tonight’s launch party on the Lido deck?” He looked between them.

Emma jumped up from the bed and wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, planting her lips on his cheek. “My hero.” She giggled. “Find your own, Rubes, this one’s mine.”

“You heard the lady.” Will said proudly.

“I’m just going to change really quick. Are we meeting you guys up there?”

“Aye, we are heading up in a minute, your brother takes a long time to get ready. Are you aware of that?”

Emma snorted loudly. “Try growing up with him. That hair, right?”

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than a woman with that. I left him fluffing it in the bathroom. I was feeling less like a man the longer he took. No wonder he’s single, eh?” He shut the door behind him, and Emma and Ruby quickly changed into their sundresses for the party.

Once they were ready to leave, they hooked their arms together and found their way to the Lido deck. “My God look at all the fresh meat.” Ruby marveled as Emma felt her anxiety increase at the number of men and women gathered on the deck, many already coupling and pairing up for the evening.

As soon as she saw Will standing by the railing, she ran to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “There’s my date.” She giggled, holding on to him like a life vest.

“Hello, love. Are you ready to set sail?”

“Ready for the adventure of a lifetime.” She jumped when a loud horn blared on deck signaling the ship being ready to push away from the dock.

She felt an arm around her shoulder and looked over to see her brother, smiling brightly. “You look happy.” She chuckled.

“We are on the ocean, wind in our hair, our whole future in front of us, what’s not to be happy about?”

“Well, Will says it took you an hour to do your hair, you sure you’re excited about the whole wind scenario?”

“You aren’t going to ruin my mood with your negativity, sis.”

“Will, I’m pretty sure that girl is checking you out.” Emma turned to seek out the woman that Ruby was pointing out to Will. A few groups away was a short, brunette, smiling in his direction.

“Bloody hell, I’m not a piece of meat. Where’s my girlfriend?” He turned, dragging Emma back to his side and wrapping a protective arm around her neck.

“She’s cute.” Emma whispered.

“Hey, I thought you were on my side?” He whined.

“Where did David go?” She asked, looking around.

“He’s talking to that girl over there.” Emma swung around and located her brother, standing by the bar, laughing with a short haired woman.

“That was quick.”

“Always the charmer.” Will added.

David came back toward the group with a bucket full of beer. He passed one to each of the group. “Already meeting people?” Emma inquired.

“Sorry?”

“Don’t act innocent, I know what the David Nolan flirt looks like.” She flipped her hair and laughed, her head tilting back as she exhaled.

“Whatever, she tried to steal my beer, so I introduced myself.”

“A thief, those are the worst kind.” Will scowled.

“Well, it was a misunderstanding, so it was all good.”

“What’s her name?” August asked stepping into the conversation.

“Mary Margaret. She’s actually friends with the woman who’s been eye fucking Will.”

“Shit, she has spies already.” He reached out, grabbing Emma by the hand.

“Must be really hard to be you, William.” Emma teased.

“It’s the worst.” He groaned.

~*~

“Let’s take her out, Smee.” Killian announced with an adventurous smirk, guiding the ship out of the dock and into the open seas. The feel of the ship shuddering beneath his feet, the controls in his hand as he turned her toward the ocean was exhilarating and brought him back to the time Liam let him take the helm of the Battleship during their time in the Navy. The sea was an intoxicating mistress and one that he would love for his entire life.

A few hours later after the ship was full speed ahead in the open waters, Killian excused himself from the bridge and made his way back to his quarters.

“Jones, I was just coming up to see you.” He turned to see Robin approaching his room.

“I see you are still alive, so Ms. Mills has not made you walk the plank yet.”

“I’m about to go check her out. She’s giving her ‘Welcome Aboard’ speech on the Lido deck right now. Thought I’d go give her a hand.”

“One that she will most likely break.” He laughed as Robin ignored his comment.

“You coming?”

“To the launch party? I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Mate. It’s your first night as the Captain of this beautiful vessel, don’t you want everyone to greet and fall in love with Captain Jones?”

“That is my exact fear.”

“Fine, but you will have to show yourself eventually around the decks. Passengers always have questions for the Captain. At least put on some civvies and head up top to watch the sunset tonight.” Robin left him in the hallway, mulling over his options for the evening.

~*~

“And again, I want to welcome you all aboard The Love Cruise, may our home be yours for the next two weeks.”

The dark-haired woman was giving a speech about all the fun they were about to embark on, but all Emma could focus on was the claustrophobic feeling of being surrounded from all sides. “I’m just gonna get some air.” She yelled into Will’s ear.

“Beer? Yes, I’ll take one.” He yelled back. Emma nodded and then pushed her way through the crowd. Perhaps a drink wasn’t a bad idea.

“What’s the drink of the day?” She asked the bartender as she approached, happy to be away from the large crowd behind her.

“Pineapple margarita.” He held up the large pineapple, “Comes in a pineapple.”

She laughed. “Who could say no to that?” She handed over her ID card and turned to watch as the crowd was whipped into a frenzy, the cruise director and another man hyping the crowd as the music started to blare through the speakers.

“Here you go Miss.”

She took the large pineapple, complete with umbrella and flower and walked further down the deck toward the front of the ship, away from the crowd and noise. The drink was ridiculously over the top, but she reminded herself that she was on an over-the-top cruise where singles came to meet up and perhaps an adult drink in a large fruit wasn’t that ridiculous after all.

She sipped her drink as she leaned over the rail, watching the water in the ships wake ripple in the last light left before the sun dipped below the ocean’s view.

“I hope you have no plans to jump, I’m a fairly good swimmer but the water is quite cold.”

Emma flinched and turned to the offending intruder when her heart caught in her throat. Standing before her was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. The waning sun shimmered in the dark strands of his hair, his blue eyes reflecting like pools of bright light staring back at her.

Oh my God Emma, say something!

“No plans currently at the moment but I’m reserving my right to jump later.”

“Well then I guess you’ll have to alert me when the time comes so that someone will be there to fetch you.”

His voice was smooth and addicting and she was conflicted on being annoyed that he was interrupting her private moment but also trying to come up with an excuse to get him to continue speaking to her with his incredibly sexy accent.

Stop it.

She realized he was still looking at her and suddenly she didn’t know how long she had been standing there in silence looking like a cat that swallowed a canary. She did the only thing she could do and started laughing. However, she was sure if that was not an improvement on the silence or if she suddenly just turned into a crazy person laughing for no reason.

As if recognizing her inner turmoil, he leaned against the rail beside her and spoke again. “This is my favorite part of the ship.”

“The rail?”

What the fuck, Emma. Why would she say that?

He chuckled, “The bow of the ship. Looking out at the ocean, seeing where she’s taking you, no other feeling like it.”

“You aren’t about to expose some weird kink to me and ask me to pose like they did on the titanic or anything, right?”

He scrunched his nose, “That’s a kink? Perhaps I don’t understand that word as well as I thought I did.”

She couldn’t stop the snort from escaping her and quickly cupped her mouth.

“So, tell me love, why are you not at the party with all the other desperate singles?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was blackmailed into coming on this cruise?”

It was his turn to laugh loudly and she immediately noticed the adorable way his eyes crinkled when he did.

“Blackmailed? Well, that is scandalous.”

“I could ask you the same, unless you were stalking me and followed me back here to get me alone?”

“I can assure you, there was no nefarious plot besides wanting to get away from the crowd, the same as yourself.”

“Blackmailed as well?” She joked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“My friends mean well, but I’m just not, into this.” She looked around at the boat, and back toward the crowd of people dancing.

“Aye, I suppose I’ve never been a fan of the smell of desperation, honestly.”

She found herself laughing again, something he seemed to be very good at eliciting from her. “I should get back to my friends before they send out a search party or think I’ve hooked up with someone and ask for a million details.”

He nodded to her as she pushed off the rail. “Might I ask for your name?” He paused, “In case you are in need of assistance when you throw yourself overboard in the future.”

She bit her lip, staring at him in the moonlight. It can’t hurt to give him your name, it’s not like you’re going to run into him again on this giant ship. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan.” She stated quickly, hoping if he was a stalker that giving him her nickname instead of her last name would slow him down in finding her again.

“Nice to meet you, Emma.”

She turned, walking quickly back towards her friends. When she found them, Will was looking around nervously. “Oi, I thought you dumped me already.” He put his arm back around her shoulder and she leaned against him, swaying to the music as they listened to a band performing on the stage under the stars. “Hey, where’s my beer?”

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