#zig zag roads

[americaisdead]

the drifter pancake house. silver city, new mexico.  january 2023

© tag christof

[vancouvery]

It’s me. I’m Signal.

I would still use my turn signals in the Mad Max Wasteland. They'd call me "Signal" because I'd hit my blinker before ramming the enemy hot rods into the side of a desert ravine. I'd use my turn signal every time. They would respect me for this.

[junipernight]

Local flooding has really emphasized how many waterways there are along my commute.

[zaynontour]

.

[freedomfireflies]

Overdrive*

Summary: The one where it's 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.

Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, exhibitionism, very brief daddy kink

Five.

The sound of revving engines echoes between the tall, city buildings. Loud enough to startle a nearby flock of birds on a telephone wire as they take off into the dark night to escape the lurid noise. 

Four.

The smell of burning rubber is everywhere. Tires screech against the pavement as the smoke dissipates into the warm summer air and the drivers prepare for that familiar white flag.

Three.

There’s a murmur amongst the crowd. The bets have been placed and the anticipation has set in. They pick their favorite driver, and they hope that somehow, they’ll be able to beat the unbeatable. 

Him.

Two.

You can see your little speed demon just up ahead as he waits patiently in front of the makeshift starting line. He seems relaxed. Confident. One hand is settled on the steering while the other is flipping the bird to the driver beside him. 

One.

The flag waves and the drivers take off. A streak of color flashes across the street as each of the five cars attempt to take their place ahead of the rest. But nobody can seem to get an edge on the black Lamborghini Miura already skidding around the first curve, effortlessly leaving them all behind.

You grin. It’s harder to see the cars now that they’re on the other side of the buildings, but you can hear them. You can hear his engine, specifically. You’d know the sound anywhere. After all, he spent weeks introducing you to the ins and outs of his favorite toy. Showing you exactly how to care for it, with those rough, practiced hands that also happen to care for you, too. 

You catch a glimpse of his vehicle just before it disappears past the drugstore. He shifts gears and accelerates, just before the blue Stingray to his right can gain on him. You hold your breath as both cars drift around the corner onto the next road and the crowd begins to cheer. 

Harry hasn’t lost a race in weeks. You don’t imagine he could lose if he tried. In fact, he could be blindfolded with no brake pedal and a faulty transmission and somehow, he’d still be miles ahead of the competition. 

It’s one of the things you love most about him. The way his eyes light up when he gets behind the wheel. The way the engine purrs in his hands and the way he can bend the road to his will. 

The Stingray veers to the right in order to get ahead of him, but Harry seems to anticipate this attempt. He cuts the other driver off just before he can speed up and your heart jumps into your throat. The only thing you don’t like about his racing is how careless he can be at times.

If you’re in the car, he takes the utmost care to make sure you’re safe. That you’re never put in harm’s way.

But when he’s alone, he’s in a whole other world of his making. He doesn’t consider the consequences or the repercussions. He doesn’t consider you. The way you’d feel if you lost him. 

And you trust his instincts, you do. But you can’t always say you enjoy the show. 

The Stingray slams on his brakes as Harry takes off and slides around the second to last corner. Tire marks are painted across the cement in his wake and the crowd cheers. 

Your stomach twists. He seems to be doing all right, although one of his fatal flaws is that it’s nearly imposable to tell how he’s feeling. He’s eerily stoic when he’s under pressure and perhaps that’s a good thing. 

But that doesn’t exactly help you now as he zigs and zags across the road before finally reaching the last turn that leads into the final stretch.

This is it. You hold your breath as you watch from the edge of the sidewalk, hands twisting in front of your chest as he races across the last few hundred feet. It’ll be close—the Stingray is gaining on him with each passing second—but Harry’s undeterred. He switches into a lower gear and the engine comes alive. Giving the car torque for those last few inches as he flies across the finish line. And the race is over.

The rest of the cars follow shortly after and the growing crowd of onlookers all swarm the street. They cheer and they holler, and they flock to the handsome driver now stepping out of his vehicle, desperate to congratulate him. But those soft green eyes only search for you. 

When he finally finds you squished between the horde of admirers, he grins, and begins to push his way through to you.

The moment you meet, he picks you up, hugs you to his chest, and spins you around. And you squeal giddily, happy to be back in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

“My little lucky clover,” he whispers proudly. “What did I tell you, hm?”

The nickname makes your insides grow warm. He’s called you his lucky clover ever since that first race when the two of you met. He claimed he only won because he saw you standing there watching and was desperate to impress you. And that every race he’s won since has been because of you and your charming presence. 

You aren’t so sure you believe him, but you have to admit it sounds pretty on his tongue.

You laugh as he puts you back down. “I know, I know,” you finally concede. “You were right.”

“Mhm.” He smirks—cocky—before he’s surging forward to kiss you. Soft and slow and with a desire that almost feels scandalous for such a public place. “I always am.”

His tongue brushes against yours while his hand splays across your lower back to tug your body to his and the crowd cheers as you giggle. But you don’t fight the way he loves you. Instead, you cling to his shirt and allow him to take what he wants.

When he finally allows you a moment to breathe, you gaze at him curiously. “How fast were you going?”

“120 on the main stretch. 80 on the curves,” he says, then chuckles at the way you frown. “M’fine, Clover. I promise.”

“You agreed nothing over 100,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I needed to win.”

“No, you don’t need to win. You need to stay alive.”

“Well, why can’t I do both?”

Unamused, you huff, and lightly slap at his stomach. “Not funny, H.”

However, he merely laughs aagain and pulls you back between his arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You know I’d never die on you. I’d miss you too much.”

“Let’s hope so.” You push up onto your toes to bring your lips to his once more. “Cause if you die on me…I’ll kill you.”

His smile is smug as he kisses you hard before he leads you back to his car. The large mass follows, anxious to ask him questions or offer their praise. And he listens to dutifully, perching himself on his hood while pulling you between his legs. 

It’s the same after every race. The other drivers try to tease him while his growing group of fans are desperate to be noticed by him. He might not be inherently famous, but he is to this crowd. They love a lot of things about him. His skill, his confidence, his looks. 

And you can’t exactly blame them.

It’s impossible to tell if you want to be him or be with him. You imagine for most people, it’s both. He has a sort of relaxed assurance that seems to make everyone else around him comfortable. And there’s a mystery about him. An intrigue to know more about the man behind the wheel. About who he is outside of these races. What he’s really like. 

He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into his chest. He talks to the driver of the Stingray and they exchange comments about the almost collision that makes your stomach turn. But when he notices, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and changes the subject. 

However, the rowdy celebration is cut rather short by the sound of sirens as two police cars come slinging around the side of a building with their lights flashing and their microphones on.

Everybody scatters, a collection of wild cheers and hollering voices as the officers step out of their vehicles in order to round up the crowd and instruct everyone to return home.

But Harry is unfazed as he pats your hip and nods his chin up. He’s rather good at his getaway now. After all, you imagine he’d have to be with all the times the police have broken up these races. 

And he’s only been caught once.

You slip inside just as he starts the engine. The radio comes alive, the sound of Jimi Hendrix enough to rival the roar of the motor as places one hand on the back of your seat in order to look behind him before he speeds away from the scene, hangs a sharp left, and takes off down the adjoining road. 

The sound of sirens follow. There’s a cop car on the next street over, attempting to chase after him as Harry weaves in and out between the scarce traffic. He’s good—incredibly good—but they haven’t given up yet. 

They cross over and skid behind him. They’re getting closer and the red and blue lights are bright in the rearview mirror. Still, Harry is calm. Simply shifting gears with ease as the car accelerates and offers a bit more distance before he takes a last-minute right in order to shake them.

The force of the turn slings you against the side of the door and you huff as Harry shoots you a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, baby,” he calls over the music. “You all right?”

With a grimace, you nod and say, “Mhm. Just great.”

He winks before he’s blowing through one red light and then another. Somehow missing the few cars currently crossing the street while the police are forced to slam on their brakes as somebody passes. And once they lose sight of him, he veers into an old, abandoned alley to hide.

Seconds pass before they finally fly by. Oblivious to his plan as they head further into town while Harry takes another right and disappears from the city.

He cheers victoriously and rolls down the windows and you laugh as you gaze at him. Entranced by the way he nods his head to the music as a gentle, summer breeze blows through his curls. 

Freedom tastes better with him. Life is better with him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing, while he sings along to Jimi Hendrix and grins at the open stretch of road ahead of him.

You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he seems to bask in your admiration before he finally looks over.

“What do you say, Clover?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Wanna see what a hundred feels like?”

A bit hesitant, yet wildly curious, you nod. 

He reaches for your hand in order to help you across the car, and you crawl over the console until you can settle onto his lap. Once you’re snug over his thighs, his arms slip beside your middle to keep you safe while he holds onto the steering wheel, and you scoot back into his chest for support. 

And it feels good. Comfortable. Even though the car is going faster and faster with each passing second, you feel protected. You know he’d never let anything happen to you. And there’s hardly any danger out here, along the old, backroads away from the city and traffic.  

The needle on the dash rises higher and higher. 70…80…90. Harry’s grinning against your cheek as the wind dances across your skin. The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the road even without headlights and it’s exhilarating. Limitless.

“How’s that, hm?” he whispers. He kisses your jaw before dropping his foot against the gas. “You sure you’re ready, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly and brace yourself in his hold. “Mhm.”

The car reaches 100 and it feels like flying. You laugh, giddy, and he grins. The straight stretch of empty street might as well be a runway and the faster you go, the lighter you feel. As though the tires will simply lift off the ground and carry you into the sky. 

He shifts gears and the car jolts forward as the needle jumps to 110. You gasp and squirm excitedly over his lap before he suddenly groans. The sound is low and strained and you recognize the lustful cadence almost immediately.

Amused, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You okay, H?”

He takes one hand from the wheel and places it on your thigh. Squeezing it once. Pointedly. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You squirm again, settling into the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your ass and he makes another noise that goes straight to your cunt.

Your lashes flutter. The world blurs and your heart races. Perhaps you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re going so fast but Harry is calm. He trusts himself and you trust him.

The needle rises.

“Harry,” you whisper and his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. “Harry, please—”

“What?” His mouth rests against your cheek and you whine. “What, Clover? What do you need?”

He wants to make you say it. Wants to hear the words on your tongue and you swallow thickly as you intertwine your fingers with his. “H…”

“What, baby girl?” He nips at your skin with his teeth. “M’I making you nervous?”

You nod and he chuckles. A dark, sadistic sound.

“Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a quiet moment of hesitation before you eventually shake your head. Of course you don’t. How could you?

“No?” He squeezes your leg, touch slowly slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. “Good girl.”

The car begins to go faster. 115…118…120. The same speed he reached during the race and even if you knew it was fast, this feels infinitely faster.  

You gasp and clutch his hand. Terrified and enthralled all in the same moment. And even if you shouldn’t be, you feel insanely aroused. Legs squeezing together as he subtly bucks up into you.

The music is loud and the wind is loud and the sound of your heart pulsing in your ears is loud. 

And then…the needle drops. The car slows. The speedometer goes from 120 to 50 in only a few seconds, and you blink curiously before glancing back at him.

He says nothing. His expression is firm but stoic and it’s not until he pulls off the road and into the dirt that you understand.

He turns the car off, then pats your hip. “Get out.”

You swallow again and swing the door open. Crawling off his lap before obediently trailing your way to the front of the vehicle while he follows.

“Bend over.”

You do. The hood is warm but not hot and it’s almost inviting as you place your hands against the covering to brace yourself in wait.

“Let me see.”

Your breath catches as you move your fingers to the delicate panties beneath your skirt. You pull them down your quivering thighs and the summer air makes you shiver. You feel nervous under his gaze. Under the way he owns you. But it’s thrilling. Addictive. And it leaves no room for questioning as you drop your underwear to your ankles in the middle of the open desert. 

You hear him step closer. Feel his hand on your hip as he pulls the fabric of your outfit up in order to get a proper look. But he’s quiet. Almost too quiet, and you feel a touch warm as you wait for his remark.

“Have you been this wet all night, Clover?” he finally asks.

You nod once. “…yes.”

“Mm.” Another pause while his other hand begins to trail up the back of your leg, slowly pulling it open. “And when were you planning to tell me?”

“I…I figured you already knew.”

He hums and you can only imagine his smirk. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you were waiting for, then? For me to do something about it?”

“…yes.”

The tip of his finger drags its way through your folds and the sudden sensation makes you whimper.

“Then why didn’t you ask, sweetheart?” His tone is soft but condescending and you make another noise as you attempt to glance back at him. “Uh-uh. Eyes down, Clove.”

With a huff, you drop your chin to your chest and anxiously wait for more.

“Why didn’t you ask?” he repeats. “Thought I taught you better than that.”

 When your only answer is a needy mewl, he lands his palm against your ass in a sharp smack.

“Speak,” he murmurs. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words and answer me. Is that understood?”

“Yes…yes, I’m sorry.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

“Was…nervous,” you admit, glancing off into the dark night to hide the shame in your expression. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He steps closer and his touch becomes gentler. “You were nervous, baby girl?”

“Mm. Knew you were busy and…and didn’t wanna be greedy.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales before he’s grabbing onto the cheeks of your ass to pull you open. Allowing him an even better view of the way you drip. “Can always be greedy with me, you know that? Don’t have to be nervous. All I wanna do is take care of you. My time is yours.”

You release a stuttered breath before your eyes fall shut. You love the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. The way he humiliates you, even out here where nobody can see. 

“Look at you,” he whispers and you feel yourself clench around nothing. “Look at how pretty your little hole is when it’s so empty.”

The pad of his thumb brushes through your folds and he ignores the way you gasp his name.

“Think I should fix that?” he asks. “Think I should fill you up? Make it better?”

“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please—”

“D’you need me to stretch you open? Hm? Play with your little cunny till you’re coming all over my cock?”

The dirty words inside his gentle voice feel criminal. Your mind turns to mush and you can do nothing more than press your chest into the hood as you excitedly wiggle our ass further into his hand.

He laughs, amused by your desperation in a way that only pushes you further toward the endless edge. “Is that a yes, Clover?”

You nod quickly. Your cheek rubbing against the car until you finally—finally—hear the sound of his belt flicking undone. 

The metal clink is music to your ears and you release a deep moan at the thought of the leather against your skin. Of his cock as it brushes against your clit, mindlessly teasing you past the point of no return.

“Easy,” he says. “Give me your hands, sweetheart.”

Slowly, you pull your arms behind you until he captures them in his hand. He wraps the length of the belt around your wrists until he can securely bind them to the small of your back, and once your mobility is gone, you simper.

“There you go,” he coos. “You okay, honey?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Gonna tell me if it’s too much, yeah? If I hurt you?”

“Yes…”

“Know it’s a tight fit, baby, but m’gonna make it work. Promise.”

And this vow makes your heart thumb against the inside of your chest before you feel him disappear from behind you.

And then…his tongue.

He’s dropped into a crouch in order to taste you, fingers locked around your wrists to keep you still while his lips suck on your pussy. 

“H,” you inhale, already undone by his technique. “I…”

He says nothing but the noise of wet licking echoes between your ears. His other hand pushes your leg away, creating more room for his head as he mouths at you. He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you steel yourself against the hood, almost as though to get away.

“Careful,” he warns again. He smacks your thigh. “M’having so much fun. Don’t ruin it.”

And you try to be good. Try to stay still so he can do with you as he pleases. But it becomes increasingly harder when he nips at your cunt like he means to feast on you. 

Your fingers wiggle about the air, desperate to grab him. To clutch onto his curls or yank on his arm. But he keeps you restrained, keeps you compliant. And you are nothing but a toy for him to play with now.

You hear the sounds of the world around you. The crickets, the owls, the flock of birds flying overhead. You’re reminded yet again that anybody could drive by, even out here in the middle of nowhere. They could find you, bent over the hood of a Lamborghini as you get tongue fucked by the handsome man on his knees.

And yet…you don’t care. In fact, you almost hope somebody does pass. Because you know Harry wouldn’t stop even if they did. He’d keep going until you were unraveling in his hands as you whimpered his name.

As if to prove this, he adds a finger in beside his devious lips. “Gotta make sure you can take me,” he says in a low grunt. “S’too tight in here, Clove. Don’t think I’ll fit.”

You whine louder and angle your ass closer. Desperate to get his finger in as far as it’ll go. “I’ll take it,” you promise. “I will. Always do.”

“Always do,” he repeats in a soft chuckle. “That’s right, you do. Treat my cock right, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Nearly purring, you allow the subtle thrust of his hand to drag you closer to that blinding pleasure. 

“Do anything I ask. Even have my babies, wouldn’t you?”

The thought nearly does you in. Your tummy all swollen and full of him. Tits leaking milk that he’d eagerly lap up. The way he’d still treat your body like a temple. A prize to behold. Because you were carrying what he gave you. He fucked you so hard and so deep that you became a vessel for him. 

And even past that, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always wanted to start a family with him because you know he’d be a wonderful father. He’d take them to races and hold them on his shoulders so they could watch. He’d kiss all over their little cheeks and tuck them into bed. And your kids would know nothing but love. Because they’d look up to the two of you.

It makes you smile.

“What do you say, hm?” he whispers between kitten licks to your pussy. “You wanna have my babies? Wanna make me a daddy?”

He adds a second finger and begins to scissor them almost immediately until you cry out. Loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby branch and this proves to be answer enough for him.

“Okay,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll fuck your little pussy and get it all nice and full. Give you all I’ve got. And you’ll take it, won’t you? Hold it in your little belly like a good mama.”

You cum. Suddenly and without warning as the intensity of the orgasm explodes behind your eyelids like stars in the sky. You cum and you don’t get a chance to warn him or prepare or even hold off as you feel yourself drip down his hand. 

“God, H,” you moan. You sound pitiful. Voice hoarse from the way you’ve been wailing and arms sore from the way he keeps them behind you. Still, you don’t mind. The pain is pleasure in and of itself. “I…m’so…”

“Yeah.” He stands up and tugs his pants down. “I know, baby. I am, too.”

The tip of his cock drags through your soaked and sensitive pussy before he pushes in. He’s right, it is a tight fit. Even with the way you attempt to relax your muscles and draw him in. But it’s always snug with him and truth be told, you almost prefer it this way.

“There you go,” he breathes, dipping down to kiss your shoulder before drawing back his hips. “Just like that. Fucking hell, Clove, I wish you could see. Wish you could fucking see the way you look taking me right now.”

You wish you could, too. As it is, the feeling is enough to make your eyes roll back and send sparks of electricity up the length of your spine.

He keeps your wrists in his hand as he fucks into you. Sharp thrusts that sound sloppy and uncoordinated but feel like heaven. And there’s an urgency here. A desolate need to feel you unravel. He cares for you and he uses you all with the same technique. 

He grabs your leg and forces it up onto the hood. Giving him more room and a deeper angle just to hear you moan. And you hate that you can’t see him. Because you know how pretty he looks when he’s in control. His adrenaline high and his eyes alive with the possibilities of what he could do to you.

Instead, you choose to imagine. The way a few rogue curls must be sweeping across his forehead, unable to stay constrained beneath the sticky gel he likes to put in his hair. His chest is probably heaving, offering peeks of his tattoos beneath the white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso. His thighs will be flexing with each thrust. The muscles rippling in such a way that would surely make you drool. 

You understand why every woman you pass on the street tends to fawn over him. You know they’d do anything to take him home. Cook for him, clean for him, be good for him. Anything to earn his affection.

But you also know, his affection belongs to you. You’ve seen it, time and time again. He doesn’t even glance their way. He doesn’t notice when they giggle over him or when they try to call to him with their eyes. 

Because his eyes are always on you.

“You’re beautiful,” you hear him whisper. It’s soft—restrained. Almost as though he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. But you do and you nearly sink into the car in bliss. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

A fervent heat rushes through your body from his praise and subsequently has you clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan and you’re proud of the way you can still care for him. Even if you can’t see him. Even if he’s the one with all the power.

“This sweet little pussy takes such good care of me,” he says and reaches around your tummy in order to press his palm against the subtle bulge there. “Every…fucking…time.”

You careen forward, cheek squished into the hood, skin dewy from the way your body shakes with pleasure. It’s always this close and somehow, he keeps you there. As though reminding you not to cum until he says so.

The hand on your stomach moves down until his fingers find your sensitive clit. He rubs and he plucks and he plays with your body with the same precision and skill he uses when he drives. Because no matter how much he loves to race, he loves you more. And winning you will always be infinitely better than winning some goddamn race.

“What do you say, hm?” he mumbles from behind you, rubbing the swollen nerves while pistoning his hips to yours. Dragging you closer and closer and closer. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it?”

You nod and when you start to waver over that edge, he chuckles.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, baby, cum.”

You do. Again. Harder this time. Louder. It’s almost cruel how easily your body breaks beneath him but before you can indulge in the feel of the way he follows…he’s pulling out. 

He guides you away from the hood and turns you both around. He sits in the spot you once were and he lets you see him. Because this is what you needed. The intimacy, the eye-contact. The beautiful look on his face.

He guides you closer with his hold on your bound wrists before pulling you onto his lap as best he can. He helps you place one leg back on the hood while his other hand moves to guide his cock between your overstimulated folds. Then, he brushes his swollen tip through, just to tease himself, before he’s pushing in.

And you can see him now. Can see the fucked-out expression on his face. The way his vision becomes hazy and his teeth grit together in ecstasy. 

You whimper, whine, cry out. You want to hold him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and curl yourself into his beautiful, broad chest. 

But you can’t this time. In fact, he uses his grip on the belt to help roll you over his cock. A soft smile on his face as he whispers, “Just one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”

He’s insatiable and greedy and you love it. Because you’d fuck yourself on his cock for the rest of time if you could. Even out here in the open.

“Wanna watch,” he whispers, then slips his other hand around the back of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. “Wanna watch the way I fill you all full of my babies.”

You make a rather pitiful noise against his mouth and he smirks. 

“You want that, too, don’t you, Clove?”

You nod, although you imagine it should be obvious. You’d do anything for him. 

“This little pussy was made to have my babies, wasn’t it?” he says and kisses the corner of your lips before moving down your neck. “Just made to be fucked by me. Perfect tummy to carry my kids. You’ll be so good, mama. Know you will.”

Your lashes flutter shut. The nickname breeds something new in your chest, a blossoming sort of urgency that almost makes it hard to breathe.

“Harry,” you plead. You nudge your nose against his temple. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” His voice is soft. Still mischievous but kind. “I’ve got you. Yeah? M’right here. Just let me take care of you.”

And he does. He moves his hand from your neck to your shirt, slipping underneath until he can find your tits and give them a squeeze. 

“There you go,” he coos. “Oh, baby girl. Do anything for you, you know that? Just to keep you.”

He moves from your chest to your clit, and you know the second his fingers make contact, you’ll be gone. You squirm in anticipation, and he grins against your cheek before kissing you hard. Tongues and teeth colliding as he sucks on your lip and murmurs, “Can I cum in your pretty pussy, mama? Will you let me? Please?”

You nod so quick and so hard, your head aches. But it doesn’t matter because nothing else will ever compare to the feel of his hand on your body and his cock in your cunt. Releasing the warm, sticky offering that means infinitely more now than it did before.

He thrusts up into you a time or two, milking himself with your pussy before he drops back down and pulls you with him.

You’re both panting. Heavy, hard. Depleted of all energy as he holds you as close to his heart as he can.

Eventually, he frees you, tugging on the belt with one, easy pull as it comes loose from around your wrists. And the moment your arms are returned to you, you use them to grab onto his shoulders and bury yourself in his embrace.

He laughs. A delicate sound that makes you feel just as warm as his cock does. And you stay there for as long as you can until he finally nips at your earlobe and says, “Need to get you home, Clove. Don’t want you to get cold out here.”

“M’not cold,” you pout. “And we can’t leave until it works.”

“Until what works?”

You look down and he looks, too.

Then, he grins. A big, giddy grin that’s all teeth and dimples. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Can’t leave until you’re pregnant, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I see.” He squeezes your hips and kisses your neck. “Gonna have to hold me in there, aren’t you? Keep me all snug?”

“Mhm.”

“All right, mama,” he says and you giggle. “We’ll stay until you’re all nice and pregnant. And then I’m gonna take you home and fuck you again. Just to make sure.”

Your stomach flips.

“S’that sound good, Clover?” he asks, and you bring your eyes to his in order to see him fully.

You smile.

“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”

For a more immersive experience, feel free to play All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix during the chase hehe

Beautiful divider by @firefly-graphics 💞

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[geekgirl-1717]

Runaway Cat and Runaway Heart

Seth Lowell x Reader

Tags: sfw, fluff, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, a little bit of smooching at the end. gender-neutral reader and no use of (y/n). 6.3k words

this catboy has me in a chokehold rn

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

You tried to steady your breathing, fighting against the panic rising in your chest. You could feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, and you furiously blinked them away.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

You needed to stay calm if you were going to resolve this situation.

It had started with a harmless mistake. You hadn’t given it a second thought when you’d left your front door open while retrieving a package. You’d stepped outside for mere seconds, and your cat had always been so well-behaved that it never even occurred to you that she would try to run away. 

Now here you were, pacing frantically up and down the sidewalks of Lumina Square, futilely reassuring yourself that your precious furry baby was okay and that you’d find her safe and sound. You spared a glance at the sprawling maze of roads and crosswalks zig-zagging through the city center, feeling the rush of air against your skin as cars zipped past endlessly, and the tears threatened to spill over your cheeks again as you imagined the worst-case scenario. 

You were sure you looked like a lunatic to passersby, wandering about aimlessly and calling out your cat’s name in a frenzied tone. With each passing minute, you could feel your hope slipping further and further away.

You rounded a corner, slumped over and defeated from your effortless search, when you spotted a Public Security officer. He was a feline Thiren, with a long, fluffy tail and ears poking out of his mop of white hair. 

As you moved closer, you realized the officer was holding something in his arms. Something fluffy with a long tail and pointed ears not unlike his own. Your heart started beating wildly in your chest as you felt your optimism return, and you couldn’t help yourself as you started almost running towards the PubSec officer. You recognized those furry features as belonging to your beloved cat.

The officer’s ears twitched as you ran up to him and he turned to face you as you approached, giving a clear view of your cat peacefully snuggled up in his arms like a baby. It seems he quickly put two and two together, and gave you an eager grin.

“Hello! Is this your cat, then?”

You could have thrown yourself at this man’s feet, you were so grateful to him. You tried to steady your breathing, giving him an appreciative look.

“Yes, sir, thank you so much! I- I have no idea why she ran away. I swear she isn’t usually like this!”

The officer just chuckled, his bright smile only widening further. 

“Don’t worry about it! I'm just glad this sweet little gal has such a lovely owner. I was worried she might be a stray.”

You felt your face heating up at his words. If it was anyone else, you might have felt uncomfortable with a stranger saying something that could be so easily interpreted as flirting, but he seemed so genuine and wholesome, you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel upset. 

You held out your arms to take your cat back, and the officer stepped closer to hand her off. Your cat, however, seemed to have different ideas. 

Instead of being happy to see you, your cat cuddled closer up against the Thiren, purring contentedly. You huffed before giving the officer an apologetic smile, reaching to try to grab your cat from him again. As you gently lifted her, your cat squirmed in your grasp, digging her claws into the officer’s uniform and refusing to let go.

That little traitor!

The officer laughed at the predicament, giving your cat a scratch behind the ear. Meanwhile, the heated flush of embarrassment creeped further up the back of your neck. 

“I'm so sorry about this. I’m sure you have much more important things you could be doing right now, and I’m wasting your time-”

The officer cut you off with a vigorous shake of his head, his ears flopping cutely with the motion. 

“Not at all! As a Public Security officer, it is my duty to help the citizens of New Eridu, no matter what! Making sure you get your cat back is as important as anything else, and I’d be willing to wait here all day if that’s what it took!”

You were taken aback by how sincere this guy was, and you felt your heart flutter at his kind words. 

Woah, slow down now.

This guy was clearly passionate about his job, and he probably would have said the same thing to anyone else, you told yourself. 

“Thank you, sir. That’s very nice of you to say.”

He gave you a beaming grin in response, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

It took several more minutes of coaxing and embarrassed apologies from you before your cat finally relented to being handed over. You tucked her close to you in a firm but gentle hold so she couldn’t run away again (or jump back into the officer’s arms again, traitor).

You sounded like a broken record, but you thanked and apologized to the officer once more. 

“Thank you again so much for finding my cat. I’m sorry for any trouble this caused.”

“It’s no problem at all! I’m glad I could help! And I guess I should apologize as well. Cats just really seem to like me for some reason, so I’m sure that’s why your little gal was being a bit fussy.”

You almost laughed out loud at his words. It didn’t seem to occur to him that being a Cat-Thiren might have something to do with his cat magnetism, but you found his obliviousness to be adorably endearing.

“You don’t have to apologize. That certainly doesn’t sound like the worst problem to have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a bashful grin. 

“Yeah, I guess not!”

His tail was swishing back and forth excitedly, and you found yourself almost hypnotized by it. Was it soft, you wondered? It had to be. You slowly looked up to his ears again, noting how they twitched and swiveled at the slightest sound. These mannerisms reminded you of your own cat, and you smiled at that thought.

It wasn’t as though you’d never met a Thiren before, but this guy was seriously cute. You’d even go so far as to call him pretty, with his soft lavender eyes and unfairly long lashes. His feline features made him all the more intriguing. 

Your eyes were just beginning to wander to his impressive deltoids peeking out from his sleeveless uniform before your cat let out a loud meow in your arms, breaking the silence that had formed between you and the officer and making you realize you’d been ogling him the entire time.

You immediately snapped your gaze back to his face, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just been looking him up and down like a creep. Luckily, it seemed like he’d been doing some staring of his own and was equally flustered.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Well, I should be getting back now. Thanks again for your help. Maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

You hoped that last part didn’t sound too pathetic. Thankfully for you, his eyes seemed to light up at your words. 

“Yeah, for sure! Hope to see you again soon!”

He waved you off as you made your way home.

Walking the familiar path back to your apartment gave you some time to reflect on the interaction you’d just had. More specifically, your thoughts kept drifting back to the PubSec officer.

He’d been so sweet and friendly. His upbeat energy was contagious, and even now you couldn’t fight the grin spreading across your face as you remembered his cheerful laughter and blinding smiles. And he was easy on the eyes, charming and boyishly handsome.

Your stomach did a funny little flip when you thought about the last thing he said to you, how he sounded so excited at the prospect of running into you again. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t share his enthusiasm. His genuine mannerisms were refreshing, if not a little bit naïve, and it made you want to get to know him better. 

You suddenly paused, a slight frown overtaking your features. You were reading too far into this, weren’t you? Of course you were. This guy was a PubSec officer, he was basically paid to be nice to civilians like you. And with how much he seemed to love his job, you bet he’d probably have the same happy grin on his face whether he was finding lost cats or arresting dangerous criminals. 

And worst of all, you didn’t even know his name!  You’d been so frazzled from the experience of almost losing your cat that introductions had been the furthest thing from your mind.

Another meow pulled you from your thoughts, reminding you that you’d been standing at the front door of your apartment for a while now without actually going inside. It was a careful balancing act to fish your keys out of your pocket while still holding your cat, but you managed to get the door open and place your cat inside safe and sound.

After double-checking your door was fully closed and locked, you sank down to the floor, letting out an exasperated sigh. Your cat happily plopped herself down in your lap, purring away as if she hadn’t just nearly given you a heart attack and led you on a wild goose chase throughout town mere minutes ago. 

As you lovingly scratched under her chin, you resolved that you had a harmless little crush on the very nice, very handsome PubSec officer who saved your cat, and it wasn’t a big deal because you’d probably never talk to him again anyway. You couldn’t even imagine how busy his life as an officer was, so what were the odds of your paths crossing again?

****

As it turns out, the odds were surprisingly high.

About a week had passed since the “cat incident,” and thoughts of the cute PubSec officer had only briefly crossed your mind.

You were standing in the pet aisle of the grocery store, deliberating between different brands of cat food. Much to your delight (see: annoyance), your cat had suddenly decided she no longer wanted to eat the food you had been buying her for years, and now you were on a mission to find something she wouldn’t turn her little nose up at. 

She stopped eating the chicken flavor, so do I go with tuna? Or would she like salmon better?

You were so absorbed in deliberating cat food flavors that you didn’t notice a familiar figure peering over your shoulder.

“If I were you, I’d pick the salmon one.”

Your head whirled around in surprise as you were greeted with a cheery voice and unmistakable grin. 

“Oh, it’s you!”

Your feline savior smiled even wider knowing that you recognized him (not that he was easy to forget). He was clearly off-duty, as he was wearing plain clothes rather than his PubSec uniform. Without his bulky gear and long gloves, you were able to get a much better view of his muscles through his short-sleeved shirt.

Jeez, get a hold of yourself.

You mentally scolded yourself. You alternated your gaze between the cat food in your hands and his pretty purple eyes until you finally processed what he said. 

“Thanks for the recommendation! Do you have a cat too, then?”

He tilted his head to the side and brought a hand up under his chin, as if deliberating how to answer your question. It was such a simple yet adorable action, and it reignited the spark of attraction you’d felt when you first met him. 

“Hmmm, kinda? They’re not technically my cats. Like I said before, cats just really seem to like me for some reason, and a lot of strays like to come up to me while I’m walking around or out on patrol. So I like to have cat food with me, just in case! Most cats really seem to like that salmon one you’re holding.”

So it wasn’t enough that he was attractive, strong, kind-hearted, and honest, but he feeds stray cats, too? What’s next, he’s going to tell you he helps old ladies cross the street in his free time? Actually, nevermind; he absolutely does.

As your crush on this man started blooming all over again, you finally realized you didn’t even know his name.

Quickly tossing the salmon cat food in your basket and placing the other flavors back on the shelf, you stuck your hand out in greeting.

“I’m so sorry, I never actually introduced myself. What’s your name?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! My name’s Seth!”

He grabbed your hand and gave it an enthusiastic shake, smiling when you gave him your name in return. He repeated it back to you, as if trying out the way it sounded on his tongue, still shaking your hand all the while. His grip was firm yet gentle, and you couldn’t help but admire how nicely your hand fit into his. 

He finally dropped the handshake, and you briefly lamented the loss of contact. He spoke up again, clearly not in any rush to end the interaction. 

“So how’s your cat doing?”

You sighed before relaying the story of your cat suddenly becoming a picky eater, which made him laugh. From there, the conversation flowed easily between the two of you, as if you had known each other for ages.

You learned he was part of the Public Security Criminal Investigation Special Response Team, a difficult path for a PubSec officer but one he was dedicated to nonetheless. He loved cats (obviously), and he wasn’t a fan of horror movies. You chimed in with tidbits of your own from time to time, but you were mostly content to just listen to Seth. Every now and then, you spared a glance downwards at his tail, which was swishing back and forth excitedly. It reminded you of how your cat looked when she was staring at a bird or squirrel out your window, engaged and laser-focused, and it made you smile internally.

You had no idea how much time had passed. The two of you were in your own little world, and it wasn’t until you heard someone clearing their throat loudly that you realized you were still standing in the grocery store, effectively blocking access to the cat food shelf.

You and Seth both apologized profusely and backed up so an older woman could reach past you two. Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset, and she even shot you a knowing wink as she shuffled away. 

As much as you would have liked to keep talking to Seth, you unfortunately had other errands you needed to run today and you were sure Seth did as well. 

“I’m sorry, I need to head out now, but it was really nice to see you again!”

You told him with a smile. You swore you saw his ears droop slightly, but he perked back up almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’m really glad I got to run into you! Hopefully I’ll see you again soon!”

You gave him a short wave goodbye before continuing on with the rest of your shopping.

Just like when you first met him, you kept replaying your interaction with Seth in your mind over and over. He was so easy to talk to, and you felt so comfortable around him despite this only being the second time you’d ever met. 

Wait, did this mean you guys were friends now? Or were you more like acquaintances? Seth said he wanted to see you again and you certainly shared his sentiment, and the two of you had talked for so long about yourselves, so that probably made you friends at this point. Should you have gotten his phone number?

God, how did you keep fumbling this so badly? It was already a miracle you managed to bump into Seth at the grocery store, you doubted you would be lucky enough to cross paths with him again. 

You felt bad for the old lady who was rooting for you. It seems like your infatuation with Seth was destined to be just that: infatuation, and nothing more. Besides, even if you somehow were able to see Seth again, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who was concerned with dating and romance. He had goals and dreams to pursue, and you were sure he only thought of you as a friend anyway. 

No use worrying about it now, I guess.

You continued on with your errands, resolving that if you did end up meeting Seth again, you would take that as a sign and ask him for his number. Not that it would actually happen, though.

****

Okay, now you were convinced you had some kind of guardian angel or deity watching over you, because what were the chances of this?

It had been about two weeks since you’d talked to Seth at the grocery store, and you had all but given up on the prospect of bumping into him again. You’d found yourself with a bit more free time than usual and to stave off the boredom, you decided to make a trip to the video store on Sixth Street. 

You’d only been there a few times, but they had a massive selection of movies and the siblings who ran the store were very nice, even if they did keep trying to convince you to buy a premium membership. 

You expected to be greeted by one of the managers or their Bangboo when you entered Random Play, but instead you saw Seth standing behind the front counter. It was your turn to tilt your head in confusion as Seth gave you his usual enthusiastic greeting. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

That got a laugh out of you, shaking your head as you walked up to the counter. 

“I feel like I should be asking you that. Do you work here?”

You doubted that Seth would have time for a second job or really any need for one, yet here he was. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and thinking for a moment before responding. 

“Kinda? But not really. I’m friends with the managers here and they’ve been really nice to me, so I offered to help promote movies for them every now and then!”

Was there anyone in New Eridu this guy wasn’t friends with? It was sweet that he spent his free time helping Wise and Belle around the shop, especially when he probably didn’t get much free time in the first place. 

You leaned your elbows on the counter, giving Seth a cheeky grin.

“Well then Mr. Promoter, do you have any good recommendations for me?”

Seth lit up like a Christmas tree, beaming at you excitedly. He moved from his spot behind the counter and wrapped a hand around your wrist, leading you over to one of the many displays along the wall. 

He searched for a moment before he let out a little “ah ha!,” pulling a movie from the shelf and placing it in your hands.

“Have you ever heard of a movie called ‘Dimensional Musketeer’? It’s about this mysterious guy who goes into Hollows to fight Etherals, and he’s got this cool weapon that lets him take down even the strongest enemies! It’s one of my favorite movies of all time!”

He was talking so excitedly fast, it was almost hard to understand him. Still, if this was one of Seth’s favorites, then it was good enough for you. You smiled at him, pulling the movie case close to your chest.

“That sounds awesome! I’ll definitely give it a watch then.”

You thought you’d seen Seth happy before, but the joy on his face right now was incomparable. 

“Great! Actually, why don’t we watch it together? This movie never gets old no matter how many times I see it, and I really want to know what you’ll think of it!”

It took you a moment before the implications of his words finally set in. 

Was he… asking you on a date?

It seemed like a plausible explanation, but then again with how friendly and frankly oblivious Seth was, it was equally possible he just wanted to watch his favorite movie with a friend and nothing more. 

Regardless, you weren’t going to pass up on this opportunity now, not when you had messed up so badly before. You tried not to let your tone betray how excited you were as you nodded in response.

“That sounds great! Do you want to come over to my place tonight? I’m sure my cat will be happy to see you again.”

Seth frowned slightly, looking bashful. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to feel like I’m inviting myself over.”

You laughed, tucking the movie case under your arm so you could grab both of Seth’s hands in yours. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure. And you’re not inviting yourself over, I’m inviting you over, silly.”

Seth glanced down at where your hands were joined together, and you thought you saw a pinkish hue spreading across his cheeks.  

“Y-yeah, I guess you’re right. Tonight at your place is it then! Do you use Knock Knock? I can add you right now!”

You let go of Seth’s hands so you could reach into your pocket and pull out your phone, handing it over to him so he could input his contact information. 

When he handed you your phone back, you saw he put a little “(≧∀≦)” after his contact name, and you resisted the urge to squeal out loud from the cuteness of it all.

You followed Seth back to the front counter with the intention of paying for the movie. As you pulled out your wallet, though, he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, this one’s on me! 

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“Of course! I, uh- I actually have the premium membership here, so I may as well put it to good use.”

Oh, poor Seth. Of course a sweet guy like him wouldn’t be able to say no to the managers’ persuasions.

“Thanks, I appreciate it! I have to get going now, but I’ll see you later tonight!”

Though certainly not unwelcome, you weren’t prepared to host guests and your apartment definitely needed some cleaning up before Seth came over. 

“You’re welcome! And yeah, see you later!”

As soon as you made it out of the door of Random Play, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

Things had gone perfectly this time. You’d actually managed to secure a kind-of-maybe-not-but-also-maybe-yes date with Seth, and you were determined to make sure everything went smoothly. 

****

You arrived home a little while later, having stopped on your way back to pick up some snacks and drinks for the evening. You started on the task of tidying up your space, letting your thoughts wander as you flited from chore to chore. 

Should you dress up tonight? Or just keep it casual? Should you try to make a move? Was this even a date to begin with, or were you just reading too far into things?

On one hand, there certainly were signs that Seth liked you as more than just a friend. All those times you’d bumped into him, he seemed so genuinely happy to see you. Whenever you had to leave, you noted subtle signs of disappointment, whether it be a small dip in his near-permanent smile or a slight droop in his ears. And he was the one who suggested you watch a movie together in the first place. That had to mean something, right? You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress your excited grin at the thought of Seth reciprocating your feelings. You could feel your face heating up and your heart beating incessantly against your chest. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t fight the nagging thoughts lingering at the back of your mind, planting seeds of doubt and uncertainty. For as much as Seth wore his heart on his sleeve, you found him surprisingly hard to read. He was such a good-hearted and friendly guy that the cheerful smiles and warm greetings, the constant acts of kindness and generosity, the hopeful promises of meeting again, were probably something he shared with everyone. Were you selfish to think you were special somehow? If Seth didn’t like you back, would it ruin the friendship you’d managed to build thus far?

That thought almost knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t let that happen. You’d much rather spend the rest of your days silently and hopelessly pining after Seth than lose him entirely. 

Suddenly, this movie night didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. But with how ecstatic Seth had been when you agreed to watch his favorite movie with him, you knew it would crush him if you backed out now. 

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you heard a ping from your phone, jolting you out of your anxious ruminations. As you’d expected, it was a message from Seth, asking if it was still okay for him to come over soon.

No turning back now.

You sent back an affirmative reply before tossing your phone down to finish preparing for Seth’s arrival. You decided on an outfit that wasn’t too flashy but certainly a bit nicer than what you’d wear around the house. After setting out the food and drinks, you opted to sit on the couch, nervously fiddling with your fingers and trying your best to keep your nervous thoughts at bay. 

You nearly fell off the couch in surprise when you finally heard a knock at your door. You stood at the doorway for a moment, taking one last moment to smooth out your clothes and tidy up your appearance before taking a deep breath. Seth was already beaming at you when you opened the door, and it helped put you at ease. 

That’s right. It’s just Seth. No need to overthink things. 

All of your reassured thoughts flew out the window when Seth pulled you in for a tight hug, squeezing you against him in a near-crushing grip. The feeling of being pressed into his firm chest and his muscular arms wrapped around your frame had your face heating up quickly. 

“It’s nice to see you again!”

His words made you burn even hotter, and you prayed Seth couldn’t feel your embarrassed warmth through his shirt. You hesitantly reciprocated his hug, pushing your face closer into his chest in an attempt to hide your fluster.

“You too! But you know, I just saw you a few hours ago.”

Seth pulled back from the hug, giving you an unfairly adorable pout. 

“I know, but it’s still nice to see you again.”

Your heart couldn’t handle such unabashed sincerity, and you could only smile and laugh awkwardly as you stepped aside to let him into your apartment, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush still present on your cheeks. 

Seth had hardly taken 2 steps inside before your cat came trotting up to him, meowing and brushing up against his legs affectionately. He chuckled, reaching down to pick her up. Your cat was purring louder than you’d ever heard, starting to fall asleep in his arms almost instantaneously. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad, your heart melting at the adorable sight before you. Seth finally turned his attention back to you.

“Thanks again for having me over!” 

You shook your head, closing the door and leading him to the living room.

“Of course! I’m glad you could make it. I’m excited for the movie!”

“Me too!”

You crouched down in front of the TV, setting up the movie while he got comfortable with your cat now snoozing peacefully in his lap. Once everything was ready, you moved to take a seat on the couch next to Seth before you paused for a moment. How close should you sit to him? If you sit too close, it could be awkward. But if you sat on the far end of the couch from him, wouldn’t that be more awkward? He seemed to take note of your hesitancy, giving you a confused look before patting the empty space next to him. 

“C’mon, the movie’s starting!”

Seth having made up your mind for you, you plopped down in the spot he designated for you, your thighs just brushing up against his. You stole a glance at Seth out of the corner of your eye to gauge his reaction, but he was already engrossed in the movie. You directed your gaze back to the screen, resolving that you would just focus on enjoying the movie in favor of dwelling on Seth’s intentions. 

But as the evening went on, you found it harder and harder to stick to your resolve. While Seth remained fixated on the movie, you remained fixated on him. You realized this was the first time you’d really been able to admire Seth up close. Of course, you’d stolen plenty of glances at him during the times you’d spoken with him, but you had tried to keep most of your attention on his words, not wanting to be caught staring.

Now though, with Seth being so enthralled by the movie, you figured it was okay to let your gaze linger on him for a bit longer. You were positive he wouldn’t even notice. 

The light from the TV screen illuminated his features, casting a soft radiance over him. In the relative darkness of the room, his hair seemed to glow, reflecting the light like a fresh blanket of snow. His bright purple eyes seemed somehow brighter, full of excitement and contentment. His ears were standing straight up, not wanting to miss a single word of the movie. 

But most of all, your eyes kept drifting back to Seth’s tail.

It was swaying back and forth the way you’d seen it before when he was focused or excited, and it took all your willpower not to reach out and run your fingers through the fluffy tufts of fur. Whenever you’d encountered Seth previously, your eyes had always drifted down to his tail, your thoughts wandering to how it would feel to pet it. Realistically, it probably wouldn’t feel any different than when you pet your cat, but a part of you thought it might even be softer. 

You knew it was such a weird fixation, and Thirens probably had to deal with rude people trying to touch them all the time, but you’d never be able to stop thinking about his tail if you didn’t get to pet it at least once. 

You took a deep breath before steeling your resolve, shifting your position on the couch so you were now facing him with your legs crossed. 

“Hey, Seth? Would it be okay if… I touched your tail? It just looks so soft and I keep wondering what it would feel like.”

The question tumbled forth from your lips faster than you’d meant it to. Seth’s jaw dropped at your words, a deep blush quickly spreading across the expanse of his face.  

“You want to touch… my tail?”

He sounded so dumbfounded by your request, and you were afraid you’d overstepped a boundary. 

“Only if that’s okay with you! I’m sorry if that was a weird ask. You can just forget I said anything-”

You started to backtrack, but Seth cut you off. 

“No! You’re totally fine! You can touch my tail if you want to, no problem at all!”

He was trying to sound nonchalant, but his nervous tone betrayed his words. A blush was starting to spread across his cheeks, and you swore his breathing picked up. You tried to give him another out, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“Seth, if you’re not okay with it, that’s totally fine. I swear I won’t be offended.”

He took a deep breath before shaking his head. He grinned at you like he’d done a million times before, but this one felt different somehow, more vulnerable and earnest.

“If it’s you, it’s okay. I promise.”

Now it was your turn to blush. You were caught off-guard by how earnest his response was, and it was all you could do to nod in response.

Seth shifted on the couch until his tail was in your lap, the movement causing your cat to hop off from her perch on his legs and meander away with a meow of discontent. Despite his best efforts to keep it under control, his tail still swished nervously, but the softness brushing against your legs was a pleasant sensation. You reached a cautious hand up, gently running your fingers through the white strands of fur.

You were right: his fur was somehow softer than your own cat. You found yourself almost memorized by the impossibly fluffy texture, and you had to stop yourself from burying your face in his tail as you imagined how nice it would feel against your cheeks.

You turned your attention back to Seth, your hands still stroking his fur absentmindedly. He was more flustered than you’d ever seen him, fiddling with his fingers in his lap while avoiding your gaze. You could feel your own face heating up as you noticed a tension building between you two. 

“Thank you for letting me touch your tail, Seth. It’s uh- really soft.”

You’d meant to try to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but you internally cringed at how awkward you sounded. Seth’s ears perked up at your words, his blush now spreading all the way down his neck. He only nodded in response, swallowing thickly before finally looking at you again. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally speaking in an uncharacteristically timid voice. 

“Can I, uh- I mean would it be okay if I.. kissed you?”

“Wait, what?”

You honestly couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. Seth wanted to kiss you? Right now?

While your brain was short-circuiting, Seth began to panic. His face was an alarming shade of red, and his tail was swishing about wildly. 

“Wait, do you not like me uh- you know, like that? I’m so sorry! I just thought with you wanting to touch my tail, you… you know. But if not, that’s totally okay, too! I’m really sorry!”

You wanted to slap yourself for your ignorance. Of course, Thiren’s tails were special to them, and asking Seth to touch his tail was a huge deal! This certainly wasn’t the outcome you’d been expecting when you’d first asked, but you couldn’t believe that Seth reciprocated your feelings. Your words came out in a rushed frenzy as you tried to salvage the painfully awkward situation. 

“No! I mean, yes, I do like you! A lot, actually. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Seth tilted his head to the side, staring at you like you’d grown an extra limb. 

“Of course I like you! I’ve liked you since I first met you! How could I not? You’re attractive and funny and nice and you like cats and-”

You cut off Seth’s rambling by sealing your lips over his, pouring all of your feelings for him into the kiss. If Seth had continued listing everything he liked about you, you’re sure your heart would have exploded. 

Seth was initially caught off guard, but he quickly recovered and kissed you back with equal fervor, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. 

Kissing Seth was everything you hoped it would be and more. His lips fit against yours like a puzzle piece. He seemed a little hesitant and unsure of what to do, but you were happy to take the lead, moving your lips softly and gently against his so as not to overwhelm him. 

You only pulled away when your lungs were burning for air. Seth wasn’t in much better shape, his breath fanning across your face as he panted heavily.

For a while, neither of you spoke, choosing instead to bask in the passionate moment you just shared. Finally, Seth broke the silence.

“So, uh- was that okay?”

He asked with a sheepish grin, his face still painted with a pink flush. God, he was so disgustingly adorable. You swore you were getting the same feeling of cuteness aggression you got whenever your cat did something precious.

You gave in to your impulses, reaching up to squish Seth’s cheeks in both your hands. You yanked him close until your nose was brushing against his. Seth let out a yelp of surprise, his ears sticking straight up.

“You’re so fucking cute.”

You mumbled before pressing your mouth to his once more. One hand reached up to run through his soft hair, your fingers barely brushing against the base of his ears.

He shivered at your touch, his tail wrapping around your waist to drag you further into him until you were almost sitting on his lap. 

The kiss was indulgent and lazy yet no less passionate than before. You had all the time in the world to kiss Seth now, and you intended on savoring it. 

After who knows how long, Seth pulled away first this time, planting a final kiss on your nose and leaning his forehead against yours. 

“You’re way cuter.”

You giggled at his sweet words, and Seth couldn’t help but laugh with you. As you leaned in for another kiss, you made a mental note to give your cat as many treats as she wanted, silently thanking her for running away from home and leading you to the man you never knew you belonged with.

[readwritealldayallnight]

A Stranger is a Friend You Haven’t Met Yet… (Part 2)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 5.5k words

(18+ mdni) warnings/tags: kinda barely enemies to lovers, tension, grinding, dry humping, finishing with clothes on, Ghost does not do feelings™️, mask stays on (for now)

‘Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst’.

That was something something you told yourself often, working as a woman in close contact with the military. Especially so when starting new assignments for the first time, landing on a new base, meeting new faces. More often than not the grand majority of those faces were men. Large, intimidating, burly men. Some of whom sometimes held certain feelings about a woman being brought in to work alongside them.

The first time you’d met Captain Price on yet another new base for yet another new assignment, shaking hands with the tall man, you’d once again repeated the familiar phrase to yourself. If only you could have known there was no real way to prepare for meeting the 141.

He walked you through numerous zig zagging hallway and corridors that made up the heart of the base, leading you towards the briefing room where you’d be meeting the rest of the task force your employer turned friend Laswell had assigned you to assist. Your work as a highly skilled translator meant that your unique credentials made you a vital asset to anyone you worked for. You were only a year out of finishing your degree when Laswell had scooped you up, seeing the potential in you.

As your mind shifted to her, you halted your steps, cursing yourself silently. You’d promised Laswell you would text her and let her know when you’d made it to your hotel safe last night. After the chaos of being left out in the dark, pouring rain at the wrong address following a 10 hour flight where they put your luggage on the wrong flight, being unable to find reception walking along a sketchy, desolate road in search of a way of calling a cab, being rescued by a large, mysterious, enticing stranger on a motorcycle, you’d forgotten to text Laswell before you crashed on the hotel bed that night.

It had equally slipped your mind the next morning when you woke up in a panic, only a few hours later due to the early start time of the briefing, shoving your still wet clothes into the questionable hotel dryer, hoping it would be good enough in time for your mad dash to the base. All this to say, the last 24 hours had left you frazzled, and you’d completely forgotten to get back to her.

“I’m so sorry Captain, I-”

“You’re welcome to call me Price, if you’d like. You’ll find we’re not always so formal ‘round here.” The older man replied, also pausing his foot steps so as to not leave you behind, offering a kind smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes.

“Price,” you corrected, offering him back the best smile you could muster up at that moment. “You’ll have to forgive me, I just need 60 seconds to contact Laswell, that’s all. I was supposed to-”

“Say no more.” He interrupts, holding his hands up as if in a display of mock surrender, taking one small step back towards the door to the briefing room. “If it’s Laswell, I don’t want to held responsible for upsettin’ her. Used up enough favours with her already to finally have her send you over our way.”

You offer him a genuine chuckle at that last comment, knowing that Kate is in fact more often than not bombarded with requests for your skills, and that the head of the 141 was one of those little birdies often chirping in her ear.

“I’ll give you a few minutes. Come in when you’re ready.” He kindly offers you before excusing himself into the briefing room. You take a steadying breath, pulling out your phone and quickly typing out a message to your friend, not wanting to cause a worse first impression than you might already be currently doing. The soft whoosh sound of your text being sent has barely touched your ears before you’re hiding your phone away, ready to get this show on the road.

Your hand is reaching out to twist the door handle, catching the tail end of Price’s deep voice telling someone that he’s “been tryin’ to get ahold of her for a long feckin’ time now.” before an excited Scottish accent adds “So it is a lass??”

‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ you thought one last time before opening the door and walking in to meet the 141.

“Last time I checked, yes, I’m still a ‘lass’.”

To your utter surprise, the transition into working alongside the 141 had been the easiest, dare you even say, the most fun, you’ve had in a long, long time. Price is a kind and fair leader, always looking out for his teammates. You, Soap and Gaz have gotten along with ease from the get go, the Sergeants taking an immediate liking to you.

“Is it really 11?” Gaz had asked you during that very first briefing between the five of you, a playful smiling stretching across his young, handsome face. Soap was gazing at you beside him with equal, genuine curiosity across his features.

“Yes, it’s 11.” You confirmed for them, used to the question at this point. It was a fair question, and you knew that. It wasn’t every day that they met someone who was perfectly fluent in six languages, fairly fluent in 3, and knew enough to effectively translate in another 2 languages. Sometimes, if you stayed on with a team for long enough, you forgot how ‘odd’ your work was, seeing people’s reactions for the first time, raving about how they wish they had your ‘gift’.

In actuality, your knowledge felt like the furthest thing from a gift, some days. Your skills were the result of hard work, blood, sweat and tears. You’d been raised in a household where 3 languages were spoken on a daily basis, and so though you did have that advantage early on in life, when you chose your path after high school graduation and decided to learn more than the 3 you already knew, you’d dedicated more effort to your pursuits than you ever had before.

Discovering your love for learning languages, your nose was never not in a book. This is how one of your first every contracts gifted you with the nickname that stuck with you to this day. Though you weren’t technically military, only working with them, the call sign was deemed too perfect not to be yours. This was something Soap was very curious about upon meeting you, and wasn’t shy to hide it.

“And the wee call sign? How’d a sweet lass like you end up being called that?” He questioned, earning a sideways glance from his superior, who was beginning to open his mouth to probably scold him before you laughed and reassured him it was fine.

“I was just starting to study Russian when I’d landed on what would be my longest job at the time. And Russian is really hard to learn, let me tell you. 33 letters in their alphabet, I was working more so had less time to study, anyways I was just reading a lot, always had my nose in a book.” You explained to the men, a familiar story you’d recounted countless times now. “Eventually that got me the nickname bookworm, which over time got shortened to, what it is now… worm.”

“Ach, nowhere near as fun as I’d been hopin’.” The Scot huffs out as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thought maybe you’da been forced to eat a worm at some point or-”

“Sergeant MacTavish!”

That first meeting had been a few weeks ago now, and you were pleasantly surprised at how well things were going. Well, almost everything. Because as kind as Price was, and as friendly as Soap was, and as inviting as Gaz was, those men only made up 3/4 of the task force. There was one other member of the 141, and the issue wasn’t that he’d been missing from that initial briefing, it was that he hadn’t said one goddamn word to you.

The entire time, the massive, intimidating, beast of a man sat in the corner of the room, eyes hidden by the shadows that the skull plated mask he wore cast over where his eyes should be, almost giving off the impression as if the figure behind were not alive. Price had introduced him as simply, Ghost, the Lieutenant. And that’s exactly what he was, a ghost hovering in the space, listening in on the stories that those alive and well were sharing around the table, never saying a word, never making a sound, never even moving.

It wasn’t until the briefing finally ended, Price explaining that he would show you towards the room that would now be yours for the indeterminate future, that you finally saw any sign of life from him, as he took no hesitation in standing to his feet and swiftly leaving the room, all without a word or look of acknowledgement in your direction.

“Don’t you be worryin’ yourself over him, wormie.” Soap had insisted one evening as he helped you spar in the gym. You were by no means a soldier, and were not expected to fight. However more and more often you work was requiring you to be on at the heart of the chaos, translating for your team on the spot in tense, increasingly dangerous situations. It was vital, no, necessary, to Price that they go over what sort of self defence you knew so that they could judge for themselves what was adequate and what needed improving before he deemed you fit to be defending yourself from more than your colleagues.

“It isn’t just you, he act this way with anyone new.” Gaz added as well from where he was stood on the edge of the mats, observing your progress (or the lack thereof rather). “Takes him time to warm up, ya see. He just doesn’t know ya yet.”

“He’s still warmin’ up to me, even now! If you’ll believe me, bonnie!” Soap had joked, wanting to squash your concerns.

The days dragged on however, and the Lieutenant’s behaviour became increasingly odd. He still would not speak to you, and so you never tried initiating contact, reading his message loud and clear. But there were times where you’d be holding multiple folders, if not boxes, of files and information on the way to a briefing, and you would run across none other than Ghost.

Rather than continuing to ignore your presence and continuing his way to the briefing room, he’d wordlessly pluck the items from your hands, carrying them in your place, pace quickening as if to leave you behind. Another time, you were practicing strapping on gear that you’d apparently be expected to wear at times depending on the climate and the situation, intent on heading straight to the gym afterwards to practice sparring, as per his idea to have you practice in actual equipment.

You knew Ghost was somewhere in the room as well, polishing some weapon or another, but you were focused on your task. That’s part of why you were so caught off guard when you stood up, thinking you’d finished gearing up correctly, and found your path to the door blocked suddenly by the Lieutenant’s immense frame taking up your line of sight.

You’d gasped in surprise at his unexpected closeness, finding your mouth gone dry when his large gloved hands reached out to your front, adjusting the straps of your tactical vest without a word. As quickly as he had appeared before you, he’d completed his task and disappeared, leaving you spinning from the interaction.

The next time, you were in the mess hall, standing awkwardly as you tried to leave a conversation but didn’t know how to do so politely. The young Sergeant had suddenly introduced himself to you as you were walking out, and the man had yet to take a single breath to allow you to speak and excuse yourself. Something apparently caught in his throat however, when he quickly clammed up, eyes going wide, gaze trained over your shoulder, before he suddenly had to be somewhere and dashed out of sight.

When you’d turned around, you’d barely caught enough of a glimpse, but you were certain it was Ghost you saw turning the corner, confusing you even further. You couldn’t make any sense of his behaviour, unsure of what to make of the situation. Things came to a head however, when Price decided it was time for the Lieutenant to begin handling your training.

Ghost casts a quick glance around the gym as he walks in, finding that he’s the first to arrive this morning, something he’s thankful for. He’s still not sure how he’s going to go about this. When Price had approached him, saying that he believed the sergeants were going too easy on you in your training and that he wanted him to take over, he knew he was not in any position to refuse.

After all, how was he meant to explain to his captain that he’d rather not be left alone with you. Not when he’d been trying to avoid you at every cost, realizing that out of the dark and the rain, wearing his usual Ghost mask that had been absent from his face the night he met you on his motorcycle, you hadn’t recognized him. And why would you? The only identifying feature you might remember from that night, was his voice, and he’d been making every effort to avoid speaking you thus far.

At first, he wasn’t sure why he was going to such lengths to avoid you, a complete 180 to the way he’d gone out of his way to help you previously. Deep down though, he knew why.

You’d called him a good man.

He’d gone back to base and touched himself, relieved himself, came all over his first like a damn teenager, all to the thought of you, the thought of your sweet voice calling him just that, a good man.

But you had only called him that because you didn’t know him, not really. Your idea of that hero riding in on a steel steed, saving you when you needed it, was not something he wanted to taint, to ruin, with the revelation that that man was actually him, the farthest thing from good there could ever be.

Realistically, he knew he couldn’t avoid you forever, not when you’d apparently be working together. God, what a shock that had been to see you stepping into the briefing room. His intention wasn’t to ignore you completely, at least not indefinitely. He only wanted to buy himself some time, give himself a chance to think of what he might say should you somehow recognize him. But then every time you were in his line of sight, the only thing he could think of was his exit strategy, how to get as far from you as possible.

And yet, even as the days turned into weeks, Simon’s avoidance of you couldn’t hide the growing affection that beginning to take form in the recesses of his heart. Any time he was within hearing range, his ears were tuned in to every word that left your mouth. When your back was turned to him, his eyes were following your every move. Even his own body was beginning to fight against his mind at times, taking initiative before he could realize that he was adjusting the straps to your tactical vest, the thought of you being in a high risk situation without being properly secured leaving a foul taste in his mouth, finding his hands relieving you of the load of whatever paperwork you were bringing to the briefing that day.

Or worse, he finds himself intimidating any man whose eyes land on your figure for a fraction of a second too long for his liking, or who has the balls to actually speak to you. Acting as though he had any right to act as your protector, to involve himself in your life like this without having ever even had the courtesy to speak to you. He really was going about this all wrong, wasn’t he?

Any further self destructive ideas Ghost might had come up with are instead cut short when he hears the hinges of the gym door squeaking open once more. His head swivels in the direction of the noise, eyes landing on none other than you. He’s seen you in your sparring sessions with the sergeants, seen you walk in full of energy, enthusiastic about proving your abilities and learning how to improve them. This morning however, you appear almost timid, trying to make yourself appear smaller as the loud thud of the door slamming shut behind you resonates out, only further emphasizing how alone you and Ghost are now.

He knows he has to be the one making you feel this way, and you aren’t without good reason. Clearing his throat, Ghost acknowledges he’s stalled as long as he can, if you’re going to recognize him, it’s just going to happen.

“Alright?” His deep, gravelly voice rings out in the space. You nearly jump in surprise but manage to school your expression. You wonder if his voice always sounds so rough, or if its a by product of the early morning hour. Whereas Soap and Gaz, ever the gentleman, had asked you what time you’d prefer to train, leading to late night sparring sessions, Price had informed you that Ghost would be meeting you in the gym before the sun had even come up. Damn military men and their early wake up times.

“I’m alright, yeah. How uh- how are you? Sir.” You reply, slowly stepping towards the training mats where Ghost is stood, muscular arms crossed over his huge chest. You tack on the ‘sir’ at the end, not wanting to get on his bad side before you even have a chance to begin training.

“Ghost will do.” He corrects you, ignoring your question otherwise. Ghost finds himself feeling antsy, almost out of his element, he doesn’t like that you’re messing with his head so much already. He’d rather get this over with. The less chit chat (and the less odds of you recognizing him by his voice), the better. “You ready?”

“Yes, I stretched before coming so, should be ready.” You answer him, finally stepping near enough that you’re within reaching distance of one another. Fuck, he’s suddenly extremely thankful you chose to do that before coming here, he’s not sure how he would’ve managed watching you bend over every which way to stretch.

“Right. Let’s see what the sergeants have taught you then.”

All in all, you’re actually not as bad as he might have expected, for someone who wasn’t a soldier. Obviously, he was going easier on you than he would’ve if it were Garrick or MacTavish he were sparring with, but he wasn’t completely letting you win either. You were fast on your feet, slippery in his grasps (maybe that’s why they should’ve named you worm), quick to think and to dodge his movements. He finds himself actually surprisingly quite pleased with you.

What he isn’t enjoying as much, or rather is probably enjoying too much and that’s the issue, are the fucking noises you keep making. Your small grunts of exertion, your puffs of breath drenched in effort, the groans you let out every time he lands a soft blow on you, not nearly as hard as he’d hit an enemy, but with enough force you knock the wind out of you each time. He’s also noticing the way the sweat drips down your neck, across your collarbone, sneaking into the heaving valley between your breasts.

There’s stirring happening in Ghost’s sweatpants and suddenly he needs this session to be over with sooner rather than later. He’s about to call it good enough for today when you open your pretty little mouth and say:

“Why are going easy me?” You’re panting, cheeks reddened with the blood pumping through you and his continues to gather somewhere it really shouldn’t be right now.

“What?” He grunts out, turning his back to you. He reaches a hand behind his neck with a towel, wiping at whatever sweaty skin his balaclava exposes.

“Look I’m not trying to pick a fight with you-” He’s cursing himself silently already at your words. “But not even Garrick or MacTavish treat me like I’m that weak. And they don’t have any issues with me being here.”

“Don’t have any issues with you.” He attempts to reply coolly, still not facing you, though he’s finding himself standing up straighter.

“With all due respect, that’s pure shit.” You retort. At this, he swings around to look at you, eyes narrowing. So she’s got some bite to her. “You’ve had an issue since I arrived, and that’s fine. I don’t need you to like me. But if you’re the one who’s apparently going to be training me now, I’d appreciate if you didn’t treat me like a kid. I’m here to do my job, and do it right. Can I expect the same from you, Lieutenant?”

If you were anyone else, he’d have you running laps around the entire base by now for talking back to him like this. Except you’re not anyone else, you’re you. And now you’re stepping closer to his space, this small thing daring to get into his face over him not training you hard enough? If harder is what you want, then harder is what you’ll get, little worm.

“You want me to go harder on you, s’that it?” He questions, taking the final step forward until your chests are now touching, and you’re having to crane your neck back to maintain eye contact. He’s close enough he sees you swallow at his question, but you don’t dare back down. Good girl. “Treat you like a big girl, s’that right?”

Suddenly struggling to find your voice, you manage what you hope is a confident nod. He’s never been so close to you before, and you’re noticing that the scent of him, even covered in sweat and likely morning breath behind his balaclava, is dizzying. Nearly intoxicating. He smells like a pure man, and you’re internally berating yourself to stay focused.

“Careful what ya wish for.” He says, barely allowing a second to pass before he’s suddenly throwing you onto the mat, flipping you onto your back, both of your hands pinned above your head in one of his large palms, his large, heavy body holding you in place underneath him, all in the blink of an eye. “What now, little worm? How are ya wrigglin’ your way out this?” He presses his mask covered mouth next to your ear, feeling a shiver go through your body at his words.

He’s careful to keep his now raging erection away from you, leaning his hips back but still pressing enough weight on you to keep you from budging. To your credit, you do try to get out from underneath him, but it’s a losing battle from the start, you’re no match for his size, especially with both hands above your head like this. Your cheeks are reddening in a mix of effort and embarrassment, and Ghost finds himself enjoying this view far too much.

“See, I was actually bein’ quite nice to ya,” He adds, barely tightening his grip on your hands, as if to remind you that he’s not even using his full strength with you. “But out there, wormie. They’re not gon’ be so kind-”

Whatever Ghost was going to say is cut off by a genuine, ragged gasp erupting from behind his mask. In your effort to free yourself, you’ve lifted your hips, unknowingly rubbing yourself against the bulge straining in the front of his sweatpants. Shocked by his reaction, you stay frozen in place, still pressed against what you can now tell is his throbbing member. And from what you can fell, it’s huge.

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his reaction to you. You weren’t exactly expecting… this. But his delicious, masculine odor is filling your nostrils, it feels as if every inch of you is pinned down by every inch of him, you can feel every twitch of his muscles and can practically count the steady beating of his heart through his cock pressing intro your thigh. And though you’ve always prided yourself on thinking first, acting second, you can’t exactly explain why you find yourself slowly beginning to rock your hips forward.

“This is you bein’ nice, Lieutenant?” You attempt to ask coyly, though you can’t hide the breathy way your voice comes across. Before you can pull your hips back anymore however, Ghost is suddenly releasing you from his grasp, standing to full height and dashing out of the room before you have a chance to even sit up.

Well, that went well.

The birds have only just begun to chirp when there’s a loud banging at your door early the next morning. You’re confused, prepared to tell whoever is on the other side of the door that it had better be a matter of life or death, when you come face to face with none other than a Ghost.

“What are-”

“If training starts at 0500, then you are to be in the gym at 0500. Understood?” His gravelly voice demands. A quick glance to your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past 5 in the morning. You had been certain after yesterdays debacle that Ghost would never want to train with you again, assuming that he’d speak with Price about handing you back over to the sergeants somehow.

So why does the sight of this gigantic masked man standing in your doorway, so large he blocks most of the light coming in from the hall, someone who’s done nothing but piss you off so far, arriving in absolute insistence that you continue sparring together, have your thighs suddenly clenching together?

“I thought that-” You cut yourself off as you watch him tilt his head, almost as if daring you to finish that sentence. “Yes sir.”

“Get changed. You’ve got 60 seconds.” He informs you before reach to shut your door for you.

That’s how you find yourselves alone in the gym a short time later, training resuming. To his credit, Ghost does not go as easy on you this time as he did yesterday, genuinely challenging your abilities in self-defence and close quarters combat, teaching you moves that Soap and Gaz had apparently not considered necessary.

“If you’re ever in a situation where it’s your life on the line,” he had said between clenched teeth as he taught you to dodge his blows more effectively, as if the thought of you in actual danger enraged him enough to chip a tooth. “I want you doing anything necessary, to get out o’ there. Understood? You make it out.”

By the end of the session, Ghost himself is panting with exertion, the both of you having put in more energy than you would have, were you sparring with anyone else. You watch him, hands on his hips as he catches his breath, head tilted slightly to the ceiling, and you decide it’s as a good opportunity as any to try and catch him off guard, feeling confident in yourself.

Foolishly confident.

Before you even manage to land a finger on him, he’s flipping you into the very same position as you found yourselves in yesterday, you on your back with him above you, one of his hands pinning the both of yours above your head as his other is planted by your waist, warm breaths meeting in the middle.

“That, I never want to see you do again.”

“Was worth a try.”

“Was it?”

You slowly raise your hips, unsurprised when you make contact with his steel hard cock above you, teasingly rubbing yourself against his length.

“Maybe.” You whisper, eyes searching his glazed over expression. You find his pupils have darkened to the point they eclipse almost all colour, specks of black eye paint smudged around his eyes have caught onto his eyelashes. He’s so close to you, you’re able to make them out as blond. Something about being near enough to the mysterious, alluring Ghost to know that he’s blond under that mask causes the blush on your cheeks to darken further.

As caught up as you are in the obvious want you find behind his eyes, there’s something about them that almost, somehow seem familiar. As if you’ve looked into these eyes before, in a different place, a different context, a different time.

Any rational thoughts are cut off however, when you both hear and feel Ghost growl, the hand that was planted at your side now coming to sneak between your back and the floor, pulling your front somehow even closer to his muscular chest. There isn’t an inch of space between the two of you now, your heads falling beside each other, temple to temple, as his grip on the situation finally slips, his resolves breaks, and he begins to grind against you.

You let out a gasp, the feeling of his pulsing member rubbing against your centre, even with all the layers of clothing, is sinfully delicious. You suspect he’s feeling the same way, because his grip on your waist tightens, hips bucking already with more insistence. His grunts are music to your ears, as are the small moans and whimpers you let out into his neck. You’ve wrapped one leg behind him, widening your hips as far as they’ll allow, granting him as much access to your core as his large frame needs. Having released your hands to allow himself to explore the soft squeeze of your breasts through your workout shirt, your fingers in turn are roaming up and down his back, across his shoulders, fingers nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost knows he’s not going to last long. When he’d gone to get you this morning for your sparring session, he was determined not to let yesterday’s events get in the way of his professionalism. You were right, after all. You both had a job to do, and he would ensure you could do it right. He would sleep better at night anyways, knowing you were properly trained in how to defend yourself. Trained by him, and his hands. He hadn’t intended for the session to end the way yesterday’s had, with you laying beneath his raging erection on the sweaty training mats, though he wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t hoped for it in some small part.

He knows he’s not going to last long because he’s finally, somehow, got you here underneath him, and your small sounds of pleasure are better than anything his twisted imagination could have ever conjured up. He shouldn’t take it any farther than this. This is already going too far, humping you into the ground of the gym fully clothed like a pair of teenagers who can’t keep their hands to themselves. But that’s exactly what you make him feel like though, isn’t it?

No, he won’t go farther than this, won’t allow himself to take more than this. This alone is more than he feels he deserves. God, how he wishes he could give you what you deserve though. Releasing your breasts from his continued groping, he snakes his hands down your stomach, meeting the hem of your pants, allowing his digits to slip beneath the band of your underwear, fingers instantly finding your pulsating clit between your soaked folds. Your moans only grow louder as he begins to quickly bring you closer to your peak, one of your hands coming to cover your mouth should anyone happen to be walking by.

It feels as if the two of you are caught in a raging storm, two inevitable waves colliding with one another in a fury likened only to mother nature’s doing. You’re both reaching your peaks together, tumbling over the edge into pure, mind numbing bliss, as you continue to hold onto one another, as though you’re life preservers in the sea, seeing each other through to the end of the end of the fall.

Ghost can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the fact that he’s cum in his pants. Not when he’s searing your blissed out expression into his mind forever. You’re both panting now, coming back to your senses, remembering your surroundings, as well as the fact that with the time that’s passed, it’s becoming increasingly likely for anyone to walk in.

Taking one last look at you, squeezing your side with what might just be affection, Ghost begrudgingly rolls himself off of you, coming to stand, readjusting the front of his now wet sweatpants. He turns himself around, extending a hand out to you, which you accept, allowing him to pull you up.

Only you don’t let go of his hand right away. Instead, you tighten your grip on his palm, pull him closer to you, narrowing your eyes at him, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“So,” you say, licking your lips. “Same time tomorrow?”

Longest chapter ever and first time writing sort of smut! Feel like I’m earning my place on tumblr lol

Reader gets a call sign and a bit of a back story! Hope it wasn’t too long or boring to read, it’s literally only because I really wanted to justify naming reader as ‘worm’ because there is absolutely definitely without a question eventually going to be a chapter where worm is drunk and crying about how the boys are saying they wouldn’t love her if she turned into a worm thank you that is all

- M 🫶🏻

[suppermariobroth]

In Super Mario World, some Amazing Flyin' Hammer Bros. throw fewer hammers (left) while some throw more (right). While it would at first appear to be a simple case of two different objects or two settings for one object that could be placed or activated on a case-by-case basis, this is actually implemented in a highly unusual manner internally.

The frequency of the hammer throws is dependent on whether the level that particular Amazing Flyin' Hammer Brother appears in is on the main overworld map or a submap. On the main overworld map, they throw fewer hammers, while on submaps, they throw more.

This results in a unique zig-zagging difficulty curve if they are placed in various worlds, due to generally only even-numbered worlds being situated on the main overworld map: World 1 - More hammers World 2 - Fewer hammers World 3 - More hammers (fewer hammers on top of Vanilla Dome) World 4 - Fewer hammers World 5 - More hammers World 6 - Fewer hammers World 7, Star Road, and Special - More hammers

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source: SMW (NA, SNES)

[essentiallyleaf]

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

-

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

[sseomtada]

stick [lewis hamilton]

you show lewis how to drift like a local.

warnings: 18+++ | wc: 5872 | part: 1/1

a/n: this was supposed to be finished in time for suzuka. anyways..do Not tell my dad why i really asked about his driving days...#pureresearch

“I keep hearing the word hashiriya, what does it mean?”

His question came as you hiked through the narrow path he’d been apprehensive to take at first. You didn’t blame him for that. If someone you’d reached out to only a few months ago on Instagram offered to take you to an obscure location in a foreign country in the middle of the night, you’d be constantly looking over your shoulder too.

“That’s what they call us, street racers. Well, not you.” You squinted at dim lights in the distance. “We’re almost there.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Am I not?”

Your steps quickened in an effort to leave the chilly air and meet the engines purring not too far off.  Lewis was right beside you, his ears perking up when he registered the sound as well. It made his shoulders relax.

“Someone who drives in a highly regulated series that leaves no room for imagination or creativity is not hashiriya.” You laughed.

“Hey! I drift a little too…” He joined in.

Just before reaching your destination, you stopped and stepped in front of him. If he didn’t want to completely stick out like a sore thumb, some pretext had to be given. You were also vouching for him. So the last thing you wanted was to be teased by your group for bringing a full fledged newbie on their run.

You held out a hand. When Lewis looked at you with confusion, you sighed and grabbed one of his. The way your dad taught you was a mix of tactile and visual. Something about that always worked better for you and seemed to for the other drivers you helped.

“What you do is more manji, that’s when you fishtail or high speed drift.” Your finger moved down the middle of his palm, veering off left at his knuckle.

His eyes followed and then met yours. “Is that not what we’re doing here?”

“In my team, we do choku dori. It’s like sliding back and forth.” You zig-zagged your finger down his whole palm. “To do this style you need to have complete control, full trust in the car and yourself, and a bit of madness.”

Lewis nodded, but the tension had returned to his shoulders.

“We’ll do a few runs at the port before heading out.” Your hand closed around his, squeezing reassuringly. “Any other questions?”

“Actually, yes.” He aimed a thumb back at the direction you walked. “Why did we park down there?”

That made you smile sheepishly. The thing about what you were doing was that it technically wasn’t legal, and by that you meant it fully wasn’t. Drifting itself was permitted by law, but ripping through Osaka’s narrow, weaving mountain public roads? No so much.

“It’s a safety precaution incase the cops show up. Some stay behind to use the road cars to bail us out. We hide them because of plates and registrations - don’t need those present in a lot with a bunch of tire marks.” You tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t make him too anxious.

Ya!

The greeting echoed from your leader who waved from the hood of his car. You returned it and began to jog over. When Lewis was noticeably trailing further behind than before, you spun with a cheeky grin, goading:

“You coming or not, pretty boy?”

His laid back demeanor immediately returned at the name you’d jokingly began calling him after his initial DM. It was the first thing that came to your mind. Professional drivers in F1 were so polished with their well maintained images and brand deals, far from anything in your world. On top of that, well, he was objectively gorgeous.

Lewis caught up, challenging gaze meeting your own. He looked like he was contemplating a comeback that would make you eat your words. Ultimately, he knew just like you did the only way he could do that was behind the wheel.

Everyone size him up as he came into view. They were aware of who he was, but his status meant nothing in this crowd. He received respectful greetings and that was about as far as it went for acknowledgement. If he wanted the same praise he got on race weekends, he’d have to earn it.

Turbo charged engines fire up all around you. Gasoline and clutch fluid fused into the crisp, cool air, burning tires soon marring the sky with smoke. You crept up on your mechanic who jumped, nearly banging his head on the underside of your open hood.

“How’s she looking?” The last run was pretty taxing, you’d barely lugged it back to the garage before stalling.

“Like 90’s Pam Anderson after the improvements.” He smoothed his hand over your black Silvia.

Your eyes rolled, “What do you have for my friend?”

“TO4Z HK5 freshly installed in this san ni.” He motioned at the Skyline next to your car.

Lewis took a walk around to check out the vehicle. You saw him smile as he noticed the paint job was fresh, body now wrapped in a deep purple. It made you jealous. Your car still wore some of the scars from the last barrier you kissed.

“Let’s see what you got!” You hurled in his direction as you slid into your driver’s seat.

Vibrations shot through your body once you started her up. Since you were just testing how she felt more than anything, you didn’t push much. The rears were working just like you wanted them to. They grappled for traction on the straights and as you swung left, you got the perfect amount of oversteer to whip into the night’s first drift.

Behind you, Lewis was stressing his own cylinders. You cut your engine and leaned out of your window to watch him. He was admittedly good, better than you expected. To go from handling a car where a sliding rear was an issue to one where it was essential, and to do so with precision, wasn’t a small feat. He rounded off his practice run with a Scandinavian flick that resembled your own, though he was a bit shakier on the entrance.

“Wanna try something with me?” Your finger ran along the edge of his window.

“Sure, what?” Lewis breathed heavily, still on a high from having his body thrown about.

“Tsuisou.” Your cheeks rose.

It was tandem, when two cares drifted together. With his skill level, you think he was ready to have a go at it. Practicing extra precision would also help him when you took to the steep, weaving road.

He looked unsure at the suggestion, which was actually a good thing. If he had been too eager to give it a shot, you might’ve changed your mind. It was among the most dangerous forms of drifting should drivers lose control. You had faith in him though.

“Think about it as a dance. Just follow my lead.” Your hand gave his door a pat before you jogged back to your car.

She was in way better condition than the last time you drove her, another reason you wanted to do this. You shot down the lot’s makeshift circuit and swung your car into the first corner. Right as your instincts signaled that you’d reached the limit before you’d spin out, you straightened up to build momentum.

You continued. Drift left, drift right, left once more and straighten. Once you’d completed your lap, you pulled up beside Lewis and caught his eye. He gave you a thumbs up. With a wolfish grin, you peeled off again.

Your car was half a length in front of his and then cleared it with about that width in between. As soon as you pulled the wheel right to swing the Silvia out in the opposite direction, he did the same to his Skyline. The short left drift entered a long right and into an even more extended left as you both turned the corner.

He was nearly there, his front windows level with your back. Going into the next turn, you repeated the same action - short left for the set up, long right to really provide the push and then, magic.

Lewis lined up perfectly beside you. For a split second, right in the heart of the corner, your front windows were level with your cars barely a few feet apart. You swore you heard him cackling loudly before you tore down the straight to prepare for the next one.

The feeling was exhilarating. There was no space in your mind for worries that stressed you out on the daily when the beast of a machine you wielded demanded every inch of it. The freedom in those seconds you let the car just be all that it is, your hands hovering barely an inch above the wheel while in full lock, was incomparable.

And getting to do that alongside him made this night one of the best in your life.

Everyone turned their high beams on, signaling that they were headed out. In your rear view, you could see Lewis brimming with excitement. A far cry from the man who looked so apprehensive on your walk through the desire path carved wilderness earlier.

Soon, Osaka’s night sky was buzzing with a hive of engines combing through its mountains. Rocky hillside blurred by your vision on the right while shining barriers leading to the forests’ black abyss went by on your left.

A symphony a cars played out to no other witnesses but the ones behind their wheels. Every inch on either side of the tarmac was used as you slid, never feeling fear creep in even as your Silvia’s nose threatened to meet the apex of a bend.

Once uphill, you followed the leaders who burned puffs of smoke while hard breaking in preparation to go back down. The large hand break lever found itself under your forceful grip to spin your car in a one eighty to a full stop.

You leaned out of your window once Lewis pulled up behind you in the same manner to shout:

“This is the fun part, pretty boy!”

With that, you dropped the clutch and your rears broke traction. Going downhill was like opening yourself up to the world, a rollercoaster in the most maddening sense. Your speedometer had been rendered useless by the controlled chaos of your speedy free fall. You imagined this was what a deity felt like as your hands guided the car to become a pendulum.

Down the hill, hazards before you flashed in warning to slow. You did the same for Lewis trailing close behind and finally took a second to breathe. A sense of ease filled your racing heart while you passed by some of the others drivers. Aside from one hanging rear fender and a few broken tail lights, everyone would be making it back home in one piece.

“So, what did you think of your first real drifting experience?” You asked Lewis while you drove him back to his hotel.

“I honestly can’t even find the words it’s…” His eyes reflected the city’s lights. “Brutal and beautiful all at the same time.”

That was a good way to describe the craft in many senses. The cars themselves were crude instruments on the inside, often chimeras of sorts with mismatched parts and missing pieces traditionally found in vehicles. That was hard to tell from the exterior. The group you ran with took pride in expressing their creativity through vibrant wraps, lights and embellishments.

Drifting itself was nothing short of vicious. Tires were shredded through like paper and engines with decade long lifespans were shortened to about half that. But the moments you created with car, that raw, incomparable sense of liberation achieved when you weaved - would last until your dying breath.

“Now you sound like a hashiriya.” You beamed proudly.

He chuckled and settled into his seat, head nestled comfortably against its rest. It wasn’t long until you pulled up to his fancy accommodation. You expected nothing less of an F1 driver than staying at the W.

“Are you tired?” Your gazed raked down the column of his neck.

“Not remotely.” Lewis cracked an eye in your direction. “If you’re not, do you wanna join me for a drink?”

You squinted. “But you don’t.”

“I never said it had to be alcoholic.” His retort came cheekily.

He’d clearly been waiting for his turn to one up you with banter. You were anything but a sore loser though and would never argue when you were wrong. The keys to your road car ended up in the hands of a valet as you found yourself the one walking with timidness into his arena.

It hit you rather belatedly that there was no need to be self-conscious. At this time of night, any censorious glares you might’ve received were absent. There was no one around to make you feel out of place in your oversized clothing.

Steps echoed as you walked with Lewis through the pink lit welcome tunnel through to the lobby with its geometric shaped roof to elevators. The only bar open at this hour would be the one in his suite. You obviously knew that before handing off your car, possible implications included.

To your surprise and his credit, Lewis had been very respectful during your time with him. You were a flirtatious person by nature and it often made you end up having awkward conversations with friends later. He didn’t seem to read too much into your vampish manner of speech. While your energy was met, no boundaries were ever crossed by him.

“Are your views always like this?” You gawked once entering.

Your feet quickly slipped out of your sneakers before you raced to the three paneled floor to ceiling windows. The room was so high up that you cleared the top of every other sky scraper around, their lights glimmering like thousands of stars.

“I want to say yes, but not always.” He chuckled. “Sometimes it’s nothing except clear skies and the bluest water you’ve ever seen.”

You scoffed and turned to face the main living area. Aside from the table with two high stools you were perched at, there was a sofa and a round accent chair. You flopped down onto the buttery leather couch while he popped out some glasses.

“Water, soda or sparkling juice?” Lewis listed your options.

“Juice all the way.” Something sweet but not as saccharine as soda would go down good.

He poured your requested beverage and chose the same as well before coming over to join you where you sat. Your glasses clinked with a quick cheers, the drink going down smoothly despite its bubbles.

Lewis picked your mind about how you got into your own form of racing, which was a stark contrast to your actual job. Like many of the other guys on the scene, the origins of your obsession was found in your father.

Every free moment he had away from his main responsibilities were spent on building out his car and taking it to the tracks on weekends. Your mom was extremely supportive of his driving, that being the reason she even took him up on an offer for a date.

Once you were old enough, he began taking you out to races with her. Not exactly your typical family Friday night, but it was perfect in your eyes. Your first time behind the wheel came a short while after you’d gotten your license. He was right there to guide you slowly, teaching you all you needed to know until you were ready to fly solo.

“How many times have you crashed?” Lewis raised a brow.

You blew a puff of air. “Many, maybe about twenty? I’ve completely wrecked two cars.”

“At least yours aren’t broadcasted worldwide.” He laughed, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa.

“No,” Your knees tucked in so that you sat more comfortably too. “Some were recorded though.”

“Oh, I know.” Lewis shot you a sly glance.

You felt heat rise in your body, mouth dropping open. What an absolute mortifying discovery. Crashes were just a part of the sport, but knowing that he’d somehow found footage showing one of your worst runs didn’t do much to appease your ego.

“Where did you even find that?” You ducked your head slightly.

It wasn’t necessarily an easy task to find videos of your racing online. There were still the odd forums that local drifters used to post clips of meets, but none of them were in English. You would’ve never guessed that he would stumble across one.

“I’m pretty good at falling down rabbit holes when I’m interested in a topic.” His finger tapped your shoulder.

Your eyes were drawn to the touch. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d shifted closer as the conversation continued, your legs angling to face him. Having him this near made your mind go back to a question you’d been wanting to ask, but always shied away from. There was no better time than now to find out while you were face to face.

“There are so many others with more experience, so why’d you reach out to me?” You asked softly, perhaps nervous about how he would reply.

“I went through so many videos and they were all impressive of course, but just in the way that made you think this is cool.” Lewis scratched his beard. “Then I came across a race from two years ago. The driver looked out of their league a bit, clearly up against someone who’d been doing it for a long time. There was this sense though, like they were the predator instead of the prey. And then they did this pass while drifting, so close that only a hair separated the cars, and I thought man, I need to learn from them.”

As soon as he mentioned that, you knew exactly what he was talking about. It was your famous touge, mountain pass, that went viral in an underground sense. Up until that point, you’d never pushed a car that hard but you had to because he was right, your opponent was tough and well respected.

The only way you would beat them to the finishing point was if you pulled out something exceptional. Overtaking while driving downhill on a winding mountain road curve was about as ballsy as it got. You still felt the tightness in your chest, one slip up could’ve sent your both through the guardrails and into nothingness. That was definitely top three in your driving history.

“I wasn’t expecting that answer, but I’m deeply honored.” You rested your chin on your knees.

“What did you think was my reason, then?” His dark eyes scrunched at their edges.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Your head tilted. “I thought maybe you just wanted a cute girl to show you around.”

“Just because I didn’t add that in doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Lewis didn’t miss a beat.

There was that heat again. Though this time, the reason for its rising was far from embarrassment. It was also the first time you felt yourself flush from a flirty exchange between you two. The atmosphere probably had a lot to do with that.

“So you’re admitting that you think I’m cute?” You found yourself the one testing where the line was.

He shook his head. “You’re way more than that.”

You towed the line a little more, eyes dancing between his own and his mouth as you leaned in. Lewis met you halfway. His lips pressed to yours, sucking them in slightly before he pulled just out of reach.

Your eyes fluttered open to catch his on you, studying the way they clouded over for him. It only lasted a second. You shut them again and dove back in to kiss him once more, with conviction this time around.

He tasted of citrus and felt like the fine bristles of your hairbrush under your fingertips that glided over his jaw. You let your knees fall to the sofa so that you could bring your chest to his, shuddering as one of his warm palms worked up your back.

Lewis nipped at your bottom lip, teeth dragging the soft skin down gently until your mouth opened to welcome his tongue. Shocks went all the way down to your sock covered toes that curled in response to the feeling of it sliding against your own. When he traced the center of your tongue with the tip of his, you groaned with a filthy thought. What would that feel like between your legs?

He pulled you over to straddle him, letting you feel something else in that spot for now. Despite the layers of clothes still separating your bodies, you felt him hardening. That only grew more and more pronounced as you ground your hips into him whilst your tongues twisted - just like your panties grew in stickiness.

“I need you to touch me.” You rasped, forehead pressing to his.

“Show me where.” His breathed into your mouth.

You used your hand to guide one of his beneath the two waistbands until you met skin. Lower they went together and then you hissed when the spot was met. You piloted his digits over your swollen clit in deep, slow circles. Once he picked up the rhythm you craved, your hand retreated.

His cock strained beneath your rotating hips that pressed forward enough for his touch to provide him a bit of relief as he pleased you. You kissed his neck, licking and sucking at the throbbing vein running along its side. Lewis moved his ring finger down to tease your hole and your eyes crossed.

“Yes…” You whined.

He brushed his lips against your temple, letting the digit slip into your walls. You gasped at how easily you welcomed it, coating him with your slick, squeezing as you silently pleaded for more.  He withdrew and switched his positioning to give you just that - index and middle now tucked into you while his thumb played with your clit.

You pulled him in for a searing kiss, moans floating from the back of your throat. The fingers in your pussy curled and straighten in a motion that beckoned you to come undone for him. You’d been doing that from the moment your lips met. All of that combined with the way he still kept that torturously slow circle on your stiffened nerves, and the ball of his hand pressed against your lower belly had you leaning over the edge.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” Lewis murmured.

That threw you tumbling into bliss.

You bit down on his shoulder to suppress your cries and gasps, knees squeezing his hips as you came. Your body trembling over his uncontrollably in the same way it did when you maxed out your engine while in full lock.

“That’s it…” He stroked your hair.

A trail of wetness was left behind on your skin as his hand made a reappearance. Lewis dipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, offering you a taste from his thumb. Your lips closed around it, tongue swirling to collect every trace of yourself before you did the same in a kiss.

He grabbed your ass and stood up, your arms and legs immediately locking around him. You were met with an even more stunning view of Osaka. The bedroom seeming to float in the sky above its gritty infrastructure. It only received a second of your attention though.

You let Lewis undress you from head to toe. He freed your hair from its tie, letting it sprawl like spilled ink across the white duvet after your shirt and bra were removed. You raised your hips to let him get the remainder of your layers, left shuddering under the change in temperature and the eyes that raked over your form.

“God, look at you.” Lewis revered.

You followed his hands that cupped and massaged your breasts, erecting your nipples to their peak. Then down to your stomach and the apex of your thighs. He tugged you to the edge of the bed, kneeling as he marveled at your open, glistening center.

The deep inhale you took would be your last for a while. Even as he tested your readiness with small pecks against your other set of lips, your breaths caught short. You no longer had to wonder what the move he did earlier in your mouth would feel like as he made it a reality, his tongue dragging down your clit to your hole.

Your toes curled against the sheets, legs opening wider for him. Lewis flicked at your entrance before making an arch back up to your pulsating clit. You lost sight of everything, eyes closing while he mapped out your most sensitive parts. Once he knew which areas made your back bow, your abs tighten and your lips part with praise, he hit them consecutively without pause.

He closed his mouth around your cunt, lips keeping your folds parted. There was more than enough ruin for him to play with. Some of it swallowed, the rest of it sucked and spat back onto your clit that throbbed under his tongue’s unrelenting laps.

“Fuck, I’m-“ Your head lifted to catch his eyes already looking back.

You let out a prolonged whine, falling down to the bed again. One hand crept up to your breast, twisting your nipple while the other pushed his head deeper into your pussy. His moan reverberated through you, tongue prodding at your hole in anticipation.

There was no way to hide the noise that ripped its way out of you the second time around. Your head gnashed against the duvet, throat burning as you released a wave of cum into his mouth. Lewis held your thighs that threatened to clamp shut, widening them to keep you bared to him.

“You taste so good,” He slurped lewdly. “Can I have some more?”

Though you wanted to tell him to take as much as he wanted, all you could do was moan and nod. Lewis dove back in to eat you out like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this plane of existence, your eyes fluttering to the ceiling dimly lit by the city lights below.

He let a hand join in on this occasion. His fingers sank into your hole to their knuckles and dragged their way back out, a glistening thread connecting you two. You watched his tongue curl around the tie before he brought the digits down over your clit with a sharp tap. Electricity shot through you, your mouth opening to let out a puff of air.

“Again, harder.” You panted.

A devilish smile crossed his lips while he did what was asked. A wet smack filled your ears as he spanked your pussy. You jostled, clenched and groaned, writhing beneath him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“Again.” You slurred.

Lewis fulfilled your wish, giving it one firm slap that left you levitating. All you saw was white. Your fingers bunched up the sheets on either side of your hips as you sucked in short breaths. And when he put his mouth over where his hand had just been, applying the slightest pressure, you gave him what he wanted too.

You found inhuman strength to retreat your legs from his grip, tucking them until you sat up on your knees. He stood up as you kissed him wildly. Your palms grazed along his beard that was soaked in you before sliding down to gather his shirt.

It joined your heap of clothing on the floor while you worked at his pants, lips trailing down his tattooed torso. Lewis stepped out of his final layers to join you in full undress. What a marvelous being he was, every inch carved to perfection. Especially the ones you took into your hand greedily.

He hissed as you slowly tugged on his cock with fingers that couldn’t even meet around its thickness. Your tongue laid flat over your bottom lip before you brought it to meet his tip, tapping it onto the wet, warm muscle.

The sound he made was just as alluring as he was. You wanted to draw out more of them. So you took him into your mouth and began to move back and forth, working your way down his length each time.

“Just like that, angel.” He groaned.

Lewis threaded his fingers through your hair, neck baring as his head dropped back with a drawn out moan. The sight and tone of him added to flood he left between your thighs. You dared to go further, jaw slackening to take his cock to the point that made you gag.

He retreated slightly, but you reeled him in. You wanted him to feel the softness of the back of your throat, to get lost in it. Air escaped through your nose while you kept him there, bobbing and choking until you reached your limit.

You reared back with a burning inhale, watering eyes locked on his. He ducked his head to kiss you gently, tongues colliding and combining the tastes of you both. Your arms circled his neck, fingers playing with his braids as you brought his body down on top of your own.

In a swift move, you had him on his back. Lewis moaned against your lips at the sensation of you sliding your wet pussy over his cock. You couldn’t help but do the same. It felt so much better without obstruction - fire to your flame, hard to your soft.

“I need to feel you before I go mad.” His heavy gaze peered up at you.

You were on the same page, had been since you ruined your panties on the sofa. Your hips rose and you took hold of him, lining his cock up with your entrance. It was a huge ask of your walls to let him in without protest, but all the work he’d done earlier made it possible.

Still, you gasped against the burn as you expanded to fit around his girth. You dropped one thigh and moved steadily, going past the head to about halfway down. Lewis held onto your waist to help you ease onto his length that slowly disappeared the more you circled your hips.

When you were ready, you released the tension in your other thigh and took him whole. Curses fell past your lips as you bucked your hips that now rested flush against his. You raised them up a bit, your pussy gripping his cock hungrily.

“Fuck, you fill me up so-“ Your words and train of thought became tangled.

He was tucked so deep, stretching your little cunt out so much. It was intoxicating, possessing. You found yourself going further up each time you bounced until he was nearly slipping out. Lewis was a moaning mess under you, eyes screwed shut as the sound of your wetness spilling onto him filled the room.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pace speeding up. Each time he bottomed out, your pussy swallowing him whole, you cried out. Then he joined in, thrusting up into you as you came down and you lost it.

All you could do was announce to anyone who dare listened I’m cumming, I - please, keep fucking me like that. Your body quivered and you rocked into him, determined to see just how much you had left.

Lewis fought through your clenching walls, grunting as he pinned you to his chest with his arms circling your lower back. Your lips dragged against any bit of skin they could find, teeth grazing to spell out the things you were too fucked out to say.

When he strokes slowed, you took in a shuddering breath. He rolled until you were on your back and pulled out. You whimpered at his absence, but found solace in the kisses he placed from your nipples to your navel.

“You doing okay?” He massaged your thighs.

“Yeah,” You smiled down at him. “Get back in here.”

Lewis chuckled softly, planting a kiss on your hip before he turned you onto your side. Your back pressed to his chest as he spooned you and tilted your head to allow his tongue to twist with your own. The flesh on your leg stood to attention in wake of his touch. You raised it so that he could tuck himself into where you both wanted him to be again.

What a relief it was. The mild ache you felt eased with his languid thrusts, each ending in a satisfied hum. Your head fell to his arm that cradled it. All the energy you had left was harvesting again where he touched you, his fingers finding that same pace they kept at the start of everything.

“Look at us,” Lewis sucked your neck. “How well we fit together.”

Your gaze tilted downward, but it was difficult to see from that angle. He shook his head, teeth pulling on your earlobe as he whispered to focus your eyes ahead. There was a mirror facing the bed that you hadn’t noticed.

Though the lighting was dim, you saw the entirety of what he meant. Your swollen, heaving chest that he kneaded and his cock sliding into your cunt deeply, coming out coated in your hot ether. It was the most prurient sight you’d ever seen - both lips parted, his gaze wandering between them and your own - and all too much to bear.

Instead of your end slamming into you with the force of a freight train, it came calmly yet no less powerfully. Like a breeze that shifted leaves, you were swept up and carried. Gravity defied until you swayed back down to earth, to his arms.

Your eyelids peeled open just as his screwed shut. Lewis pulled out and emptied his cum onto his stomach with a chord that would play in your mind for eternity. Your heart raced in the aftermath, galloping erratically to find its rhythm again. Hard to do when he took your mouth in his with a kiss that still managed to make your raw core throb.

You found your place again in his arms after a detour to freshen up. His hand ran soothingly down your spine as you cuddled into his chest. The lights had disappeared, sun beginning to rise over the city. Osaka’s skyline was something of a contradiction - steel and clouds, mountains in the distance.

Brutal and beautiful.

[fairylibe]

Trick or treat ….. Jude Jazza fairy please ✨

full moon encounters.

431 words. halloween event. au. features: fairy! jude jazza × gn! reader.

꒰ summary ꒱ they say the full moon can tamper with one’s sense of direction. in which case, only the mysterious, curious spirits may accompany you to the end.

the moon appeared larger than usual tonight, and around you were trees, and before you a winding path.

i could have sworn i was going straight, but this path zig zags?

your heart was beating out of your chest, the anxiety from being lost starting to make it hard to breathe. it was only your eye caught an amethyst glow in your periphery that your anxiety turned into rapture. your hand reached out to touch that orb-like light, relishing its slightly cool sensation as it faded to nothingness.

“didn’t anyone teach ya not to wander in places ya don’t know when the moon’s full?”

you turned at the voice, finding a silver-haired man. notably, he had wings, illuminated by the bewitching moonlight. fairies with mysterious powers were rumored to reside in forests, away from humans — he must be one.

“hah, what’s with that look? the road ain’t gettin’ any straighter with ya dozin’ off like some twit.”

“i could do without the twit…” you muttered.

“yeah?” his grin only widened. “well, seein’ as yer lost n’ cowerin’ round here, i see no bigger one than ya.” his voice was a bit teasing, maybe sadistic even.

he walked past you and ahead of you, not bothering to turn back. “wh—are you just going to leave me here?!” you shout, chasing after his distancing back.

“if yer gonna cause trouble, then don’t bother.”

so… does that mean i can, if i don’t cause trouble…?

at first, you took smaller steps, testing if he’d barrage you with more insults, but gradually, you found your steps growing more steady. being around him even started to feel safe. he didn’t talk to you, but he walked with smaller steps over time, as though making sure to pace himself so you wouldn’t lose him.

this continued to the end of the path, where he finally spoke: “oi.”

“hm?”

when you turned to him, you were met with a small pain on your forehead. it took you a moment to realize he flicked it. “ow…!”

“that’s yer punishment.” there was that grin again. ��don’t go wanderin’ places ya don’t know, ya twit.”

that was the last thing you heard him say. your vision was blurry as sleepiness wrapped you in its gentle embrace, so you didn’t know what expression he was wearing, or how those amethyst eyes shone…

but his voice was a tad softer than it had been. that, you were sure of.

after all, for how mean he was to you on the way out of that forest, you would loathe to miss such a thing.

fin.

꒰ tag list . ꒱ @drachonia @weepinglycoris @velisle @candiedcoffeedrops @.comment to be added or removed!

꒰ dedication . ꒱ @judesmoonbeauty | til 10 , 31 , 24! send me “ trick ” or “ treat ” and an ikévil character for a drabble! 🎃

[jackactuallywrites]

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You

Rating: Nothing explicit, no sex or egregious violence

Warnings: Gun violence? And he does steal her phone

Summary: You go chasing cats and find a lot more than you bargained for

Notes: It’s been sat in my drafts for ages and the first part is a little slow so bear with x

Word Count: 1,893

ao3 link

Yet again, it was there.

A little cat, dark grey, striped with lighter grey, with a white belly and paws, sniffing around the large green bins in the dingy alleyway. The white of its fur was stained with various unpleasant shades of brown, the cause for which you didn't want to think about. It had clearly found something of interest to it underneath the large dumpster, crouching down on its elbows, stretching out one of its front paws to try and grab whatever lay there, unbothered by the wet grime on the ground staining its fur. With your human eyes, you weren't privileged enough to see what tasty treat lay just out of reach, but you were able to see the thick ring of plastic that was wrapped around the creature's neck, no doubt digging into the skin, tighter and tighter as the smaller kitten grew from a desperate mewling creature into a lean, wary cat. As of yet, it hadn't seen you, still focused on its mission, but the second you took a single step forward, a tiny pebble grated underneath your shoe, and the stray's head snapped up, its distrusting yellow eyes slicing over to you.

"Kitty-" You ventured, trying to keep your voice as gentle as possible, soft and sweet, but the kitten took off, sprinting down the alleyway, the plastic from the six-pack ring sticking out above it as it ran. You briefly glanced back to the road that led you back home, already idly entertaining giving up on your quest. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, as it did on your walks home from work, giving you at least two more hours of sunlight. And yet, it wasn't like you had anything all that important to get to at home; besides, it was a fairly pleasant evening, still warm and sunny despite the clouds, and you didn't keep cat treats in your pocket for no reason, so you took after the little cat, doing your best to keep a distance enough not to spur it into sprinting away. It was only vaguely suspicious of you, looking back over its shoulder at you every so often to see if you were still following, its sprint having slowed into a trot, its tail low, yet not poofed up, uneasy, but not afraid.

It was taking you on an incredibly complicated path through the city, zigging and zagging through innumerable side streets and alleys, making you increasingly thankful that you'd chosen to wear your trainers rather than the slip-on shoes which would have given you a throbbing blister after so much running. Slowly but surely, the cat was taking you further out from the populated areas into the industrial zone where every other building you walked past had been abandoned. You assumed that it had someplace out here, safe away from anyone who would wish it harm, sheltered from wind and rain, and undoubtedly near a decent supply of mice and rats. It was doing a good job at trying to throw you off, and you almost lost it a few times, but eventually, it led you to a dead end, a skinny alleyway ending in a tall chain-link fence topped with razor-sharp barbed wire. At least, you thought it was a dead end, yet down in the corner, you could see the way the links were slightly uneven, breaking the pattern. In a closer look, you could see where the fence had been cut, the fence curling away from itself, and it was through this small gap that the cat escaped yet again.

You were beginning to believe that you were wasting your evening; clearly, this cat was far too wily to allow itself to be caught by any bumbling human, but it was watching you from the other side of the fence as though it was waiting for you to catch up, as though all this running had been a great game to it. You could give it one more try, at the very least. The break in the fence was plenty large enough for you to slip through, even standing straight up, the sharp metal tugging on the fabric of your jumper and sliding harmlessly over the thick denim of your jeans. The cat was waiting a little ways away from you, sitting at the edge of a building up ahead, two buildings down from you, watching you with its large, suspicious eyes before taking a leisurely walk around the building, its tail now held straight out, flicking slightly. It was intrigued by you. You moved quickly, half crouched as you walked over to where the cat had disappeared, glancing down the gaps between buildings as you did so.

There was a large security camera pointing directly at you, staring down at your face as you peered around the corner of the building. You froze in your place, terrified that at any moment, the police would be called. The cat was sitting almost directly underneath it, watching you leisurely, entirely unaware of your human problems. It was so close to you, and you glanced between it and the camera, trying to weigh up the danger you were in. The light on top of the camera was dark, where it could have been blinking red, and you decided that it must mean it was off. After all, these buildings were abandoned, and as long as you weren't doing anything too illegal, you doubted that the red and blues would come running. You crouched down, holding out your hand to the cat, gently rubbing your fingers together to beckon it, making soft kissy sounds at it, keeping your voice quiet, "Kitty! Come here, kitty!" It didn't move towards you, nor did it move away, flicking its tail as it watched you. You closed your eyes slowly at it, trying to demonstrate your pure intentions, and after a minute, the cat returned the gesture, a great step in the right direction.

You remained still, unwilling to take a single further step toward it lest you spook it. It remained still, watching you blink at it, apparently having every second in the world to play around, enjoying making you work for its friendship. Then, it shot to its feet and sprinted away, leaving you puzzled. You hadn't made a single further move toward it. It only took a second for you to realise what exactly had spooked it, but by then, it was too late. The hand was already on your shoulder, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall, the hard edge of a gun pressed into the centre of your chest. Your attention was fully dragged away from the cat, flicking over to the person holding you at gunpoint. They were taller than you, not that they needed the advantage of height when they had a gun to your chest, dressed in black tactical gear and wearing a black balaclava with a white skull painted on it, with only their eyes revealed. A warm green colour, but they were cold, like chips from a mossy glacier. That iciness was reflected in the voice, his voice, whisper quiet. "Don't. Move."

You weren't sure you'd ever even seen a gun in person, yet now you had the barrel of one pressed up against you, and you felt as though every drop of blood in your body had gone cold. "I'm just looking for a cat." Your voice was a soft plead, not a tone you'd ever heard from your own mouth before, your body acting entirely on instinct. The man frowned at you, using only his gun to hold you in place as his other hand reached out to pat you down. He was a soldier; that much was clear from his uniform and the casual indifference with which he seemed to regard the concept of killing you. His hand roamed down over your arms, roughly grasping at them underneath your jumper, then went down your sides. You allowed it, knowing that it was necessary in order for you to escape with your life, knowing that he would find nothing. He paused at the bulge in your front jean pocket, his pale eyes flicking up to you questioningly, and you answered, "Cat treats." Still, he didn't trust you, digging them out of your pocket to confirm your answer, his eyes flicking over the bright colours of the packet before tossing them aside. You didn't dare even breathe as he patted down your jeans, identifying your phone in the other front pocket. He pulled out your phone, his eyes flicking down to the screen and then back up to you, showing you the lock screen.

"Unlock it."

Even with the gun to your chest, you still hesitated about unlocking your phone for a stranger, your mouth opening to argue with him before your brain caught up with you, not allowing a single word of dissent past your lips. He pressed the gun harder against your chest, the metal digging into your chest through the thin material of your jumper, his eyes hard, and you gave up, reaching up with your fingers to tap in your passcode. He looked down at your phone, swiping through to see your apps and then flicking through your recent photos, only finding endless pictures of you and your cats, as well as the various street cats you encountered on your walk to work. His gaze snapped up to your face once more, flicking across your features as though he was beginning to understand something about you.

Finally, he let up.

"How did you get in?" His voice was slightly less harsh this time. There was still the hard military edge, but now he had more of a questioning tone, as though he was beginning to believe your innocence. "There's a gap in the fence. The cat went through it. I followed." He frowned, his brows furrowing underneath the slightly smudged black paint, and he lifted the barrel of the gun off your chest, taking a step back from you, pocketing your phone as he did so. "Show me." There was no polite question in his voice, only demand, and you knew you had no choice but to obey. With the gun still pointed directly at your heart, it wasn't like you were in any position to refuse. At least now, the barrel wasn't pushed up against you, and you relished every inch of freedom given.

With one last look for that mildly traitorous cat, you led the soldier over to the small gap in the fence you had come through, acutely aware of the weapon still aimed directly at you, gesturing towards the broken chain links with your hand. "It came through here." You felt the tap of the gun between your shoulders, and another command was uttered to you, "Go on then." You glanced over your shoulder at the man, "My phone?" “Go.” You hesitated, but it quickly became apparent that either you left without your phone or you didn’t leave at all. It wasn’t a decision you were happy to make, but it wasn’t as though you had much choice in the matter, so you left it in the hands of the soldier, not giving him a second look as you left, hoping to leave it all behind as an unhappy memory.

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico cannot get out of the stupid van fast enough, practically throwing himself out of the sliding door.

“You should kiss the ground, next,” comments Will drily, stepping out of the van like a normal person. (Easy for him. He got shotgun.) “Since you’re being so dramatic already.” He nudges Nico with his toe, who is sprawled out in the beautiful, beautiful grass, basking in the SoCal sun. “It was not that bad.”

“Easy for you to say!” Nico cracks open one eye to glare, which is hard to do when Will smiles so fondly at him. But he’s a professional. “You had legroom! I was cramped in the back with Cecil!”

“I have long legs,” Will says haughtily, at the same time Cecil calls out, “Hey!”

Nico plucks a handful of grass — dirt and roots and all — and chucks it at him. He relishes in the screeching.

“You let one loose in the back of the already rank-ass van with broken windows. You’re lucky you’re still alive, you fucking asshole.”

Cecil really is lucky to be alive, and he knows it, so he doesn’t say anything. Nico had truly almost killed him. It was Lou Ellen, on Cecil’s other side, who had begun absolutely wailing on the son of Hermes with her book that had satisfied Nico enough to refrain from gutting him.

“I still think Nico should have killed you,” Lou Ellen mutters, from her own sprawl of relief on the ground. “I also think I am never road tripping with you people ever, ever again.”

“Except for the drive back in three days,” Will points out, and the whole lot of them groan.

In truth, it wasn’t that bad. Sure, the camp van is pretty much older than Nico, and sure, they all should have considered the implications of Will claiming he had the music handled before committing themselves to getting stuck on the I-80 with it. Sure, Austin is a horrible driver (he freaking zig-zags through traffic like he’s allergic to sticking to one lane), and Leo’s constantly bouncing leg makes the whole van shake, and Piper snores when she sleeps (and she slept at least half the drive), and Kayla gets chip crumbs everywhere, and Lou Ellen — well, actually Lou Ellen is great. No issues. It’s everyone else who is a menace.

But, well.

Nico had fun. Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“Next time, we’re shadow travelling,” he grumbles, accepting Will’s hand up. Will squeezes twice and says, without missing a beat, “Not a chance, sunshine.”

“Well, then, we’re getting fucking plane tickets. Zeus can kiss my ass.”

Will’s laughter echoes all the way across the Little Tiber, louder than even the roar of warning thunder.

— — —

part two

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 37

Summary: After barely escaping the chaos, you wake to find Daryl holding you close, both physically and emotionally anchoring you as everyone processes the aftermath. In a quiet, tender moment away from the others, the depth of your connection with Daryl finally surfaces, leading to a raw, shared vulnerability between you.

no warnings apply

You’re awoken again by the loss of the lulling sound of the motorcycle beneath you. You aren't sure how long you’d been out, but as your heavy eyes begin to open, the ache of your body protests any sense of movement. The sun is out now, and you can tell it must be early morning. You can feel the coolness of the air against your skin, but time has blurred—how long had you been driving to get here?

The engine is off, and through the fog of exhaustion, you see Carol swinging her legs over the bike to dismount. The shift of her weight makes Daryl’s grip on you tighten instinctively, keeping you steady against him. His hand is warm against your back, his fingers gently rubbing small circles in an attempt to comfort you as you stir in his lap, your chest still pressed tightly against his. It must’ve been the only way Merle’s old bike could manage to hold the three of you. 

His foot kicks out the stand, and as the bike settles into place, you hear the distant sounds of footsteps approaching—voices, familiar and relieved, echoing around you.

Daryl’s other hand, the one not resting on your back, reaches out to shake someone else’s, and you hear the low rasp of Rick’s voice as he approaches.

“How is she?” Rick asks, concern threading through his words.

You don’t hear Daryl’s response, but you can feel the small nod he gives, his body shifting slightly beneath you as Rick’s footsteps recede. Only then does Daryl pull back a bit to get a good look at you. His eyes are full of worry, scanning your face, taking in the bruises, the cuts, and the strain that still lingers in your expression.

Your eyes meet his, the fog of sleep slowly clearing from your mind. “Dare…” you whisper, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Everything’s alright,” he reassures you, his tone rough yet soft. “We made it to the highway. Everyone’s here.” One of his hands comes up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, but there’s a deep pain in his eyes as he continues to look at you, taking in the bruises beginning to form on your jaw, the marks around your neck. His thumb brushes lightly over the tender skin, and you can tell it hurts him to see you like this.

“Come on,” he says quietly, the tenderness still there as he shifts beneath you. He rises slowly, careful not to jostle you too much, pulling your thighs tightly around him until he steps off the bike and sets you carefully on the ground. The moment your feet touch the earth, the sharpness of the ache in your body makes you wince, but Daryl is quick to slip your arm over his shoulders, steadying you as you lean against him for support.

You both make your way toward where the group is gathering. The faces are familiar, but the sight of their smaller numbers hits you like a punch to the gut. Lori, Carl, Rick… Hershel, Maggie, Beth, Glenn, Carol, and T-Dog—all standing around the cars. The weight of their collective grief is palpable. Your chest tightens, even with the relief of being back together after the chaos at the farm. A deep sadness settles over you as you glance over to the note left for Sophia, the small pile of food still there, untouched and waiting. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

Rick’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Where’d you find these guys?” he asks, his tone hopeful as he looks at Daryl.

“Well,” Daryl half-smiles, though the weariness never leaves his eyes, “these guys’ tail lights zig-zagging all over the road—” he shrugs, “figured he had to be Asian drivin’ like that.”

You can’t help but scoff, smiling even through the pain.

“Good one,” Glenn retorts, unimpressed but managing a smile.

Daryl’s expression fades back into seriousness as he glances around the group, taking in the scattered faces. “Where’s the rest of us?”

“We’re the only ones who made it so far,” Rick says grimly.

Lori stands from hugging Carl, her voice small, “Shane?” she looks at Rick, then her eyes flicker to you, the front of you covered in deep brown and red stains.

You look up into her eyes, your chin trembling, and shake your head. Lori’s eyes search yours, then flicker to the ground, collecting herself.

“Andrea?” Glenn asks, shock plaguing his expression.

“She saved me then I lost her,” Carol explains, looking around hopelessly.

“We saw her go down,” T-Dog says quietly.

“Patricia?” Hershel asks.

Beth’s quiet voice pipes up that she had been taken down too. She asks about Jimmy, but Rick explains he was in the RV when it was overrun. The realization of how many have been lost settles heavily over the group, the air thick with grief. The stillness presses down, suffocating in its weight.

More questions arise, murmurs of Andrea’s whereabouts, but Daryl senses your growing exhaustion—the way your body trembles against him, barely able to hold itself up. Without a word, he slips his other arm under your armpit, gently lowering you to the ground beside a car tire. You don’t resist. Your body is screaming for relief.

“‘M gonna find you some clothes, okay?” Daryl rasps softly, brushing his thumb over your shoulder before rising. “Gotta get these off.”

You nod weakly, your mind swimming in a haze of pain and exhaustion. As Daryl walks off, Rick approaches, kneeling down in front of you, his eyes filled with concern. The others begin to disperse, and you’re left with him—your eyes barely able to stay open, but you feel the weight of the conversation hanging between you. The one you know has to come next. His eyes are soft, but the heaviness of everything you’ve been through—everything that’s been lost—is etched in the lines of his face. You can’t meet his gaze at first, too tired, too much guilt that’s been gnawing at you since last night.

Rick’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, his voice low and gentle. “Y/N... what happened? With Shane?”

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling like a brick sits on your chest. The memories rush back—Shane’s hands on you, the fear, the feeling of sinking the knife into his chest. You swallow hard, your body beginning to shake as you try to find the words. “I... I didn’t tell you,” you start, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. I just thought... If I could get Randall out, maybe I could stop everything from falling apart. Thought maybe you’d notice in time.”

Your voice cracks as you look at him. “I didn’t mean for it to go so badly. I’m so sorry.”

Rick shakes his head, his expression pained but understanding. “You did what you thought was right. You were tryin’ to protect us all,”

Tears well in your eyes, and you try to blink them away, but the guilt burns in your chest as you can’t bear to look at him anymore, “I didn’t tell you. I should’ve waited... should’ve told you the plan before I acted. Shane... he killed Randall. He came for me. He had it all planned. First me, then you. I had to run, Rick. I didn’t know what else to do. All I could think about was getting out of there alive...”

Your voice trails off as your chin trembles, the words getting caught in your throat and only managing to whisper now, “I didn’t want to kill him, Rick. I swear, I didn’t. But I had no choice.”

Rick's eyes soften even more, and he reaches out, placing a hand under your chin to gently pull your face to look at him, “You had to survive. You did what any of us would’ve done.”

You shake your head, tears falling now, the pressure of everything pressing down on you. “I just didn’t want it to end like this.”

Rick lets out a breath, his hand still steadying you. “None of us did. I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped it before it got this far.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, you see the guilt on his face too—the burden he’s carrying, the decisions he’s had to make. The regret of not dealing with Shane like he had wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” Rick continues, his voice strained, letting his hand fall back to his side, “You shouldn’t have had to do that.” 

The two of you sit in the silence that follows, both of you carrying the weight of loss, regret, and the hard choices that had to be made. There are no easy answers, no real absolution—but there’s an understanding between you.

Just then, Daryl returns with a pile of clothes in his arms, his eyes flicking between you and Rick. He can see the tears in your eyes, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he crouches down beside you, his touch gentle as he hands you the pile.

"Got these from one of the cars, I think they’ll fit,” Daryl says gruffly. “Figured you could use somethin’ clean.”

You nod, sniffling as you wipe at your face, accepting the clothes from him. Daryl gives you a soft look before rising to his feet, standing beside Rick.

Rick stands up too, letting out a sigh as he looks toward the rest of the group. “We’ll make it through this,” he says, more to himself than anyone else. “We have to.”

You know Rick’s words are meant to reassure you, but they also carry the weight of what’s ahead—more loss, more danger. Before he leaves, he says softly, his eyes looking over your body then– the cuts, the bruises coloring your skin and the unmistakable fingerprints around your neck, “I’ll have Hershel take a look at you,” 

All you can do is nod. You’ll take it one step at a time.

Daryl kneels back down beside you as Rick makes his way back over to the others, his eyes flickering over your bloodied, torn clothes, and he frowns, concern etched deeply into his features. You try to sit up straighter, but the pain shoots through your ribs, making you wince. Immediately, Daryl’s hands are on you, steadying you with a firm but gentle grip.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your cheek as he leans in to help you sit up. “Ain’t gotta rush.”

His hand lingers on your back, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your shirt, as if he’s afraid to cause you more pain but also reluctant to let go. He brings you up gently to take you behind some of the overturned cars to change behind what little privacy they offer.

“Let’s get you outta these,” he says quietly, his voice rough but tender. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a second as his eyes meet yours again, searching for any sign of discomfort. 

You nod faintly, giving him silent permission. There’s no awkwardness between you, just a quiet intimacy, born from the countless times he’s cared for you in moments like this—whether it was bandaging cuts from hunting trips or lifting you out of danger.

As he gently lifts your shirt, you feel the cool air brush against your skin, and despite the pain, there’s something calming in his touch. He’s careful, slow, his calloused fingers grazing your sides as he pulls the fabric away, revealing the aftermath of the blows you took beneath. His jaw tightens as he takes in the sight of you, the bruising on your ribs and the scrapes across your skin.

“Daryl…” you whisper, your voice hoarse, trying to reassure him without saying the words. You were here, after all. In one piece. Alive.

He doesn’t answer right away, his focus on you, his expression dark with worry. His fingers trail lightly over the growing deep purple and red, not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you feel the depth of his concern. You can see it in the way his brows furrow, the way his lips press into a tight line. He’s angry—angry at Shane, angry at the world for putting you through this.

“‘M fine,” you manage to say, your hand reaching up to brush against his arm, trying to offer him some reassurance again. But you both know that’s not entirely true.

Daryl shakes his head, his fingers coming up to your face, his finger and thumb taking your chin with a tenderness that sends a flutter through your chest. “Don’t gotta say that to me,” he mutters, his voice low, almost gruff. “You ain’t gotta be tough all the time.”

His words are soft, but they hit something deep inside you. You’ve always been strong, always pushed through the pain for the sake of the group—for him. But right now, with Daryl, you don’t have to be.

He takes the clean long sleeved shirt from the pile and helps you into it, his hands careful and steady as he pulls it over your head. The fabric is warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. As he adjusts it, his hands linger on you for a second longer, his thumbs brushing over the fabric, grounding you.

You glance up at him, feeling the tension in his posture—the way his eyes flicker over you, protective but also… something more. There’s something unspoken in the way he looks at you, something that’s been building between you for a long time. He works quietly, sliding the new jeans up your legs, steadying you as he does, after discarding the heavy, blood caked pair. Once you’re dressed, he grabs a water bottle and a rag he found, wiping the smeared blood from your face and hands. When he’s finished, he tosses the supplies into the back of the car without much care, his focus never fully leaving you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. He always does.

Daryl shifts slightly, his fingers resting on your arms, his eyes meeting yours. His expression softens, the worry in his gaze giving way to something warmer, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “Not ever again.”

His words are a promise, one that settles deep in your chest. You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you cup his cheek, your fingers brushing against the rough stubble along his jaw. You can only imagine the amount of things he must be feeling seeing you like this. If it had been the other way around, and you were tending to him, you didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together like he is. For a moment, he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as if he’s savoring the connection between you in this quiet shared space away from everyone.

When he opens his eyes again, the intensity in his gaze takes your breath away. He’s always been guarded, careful with his emotions, but right now, with you, there’s no hiding what he feels.

“I–Daryl, I need you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“I’m right here,” he breathes, “ain’t goin’ anywhere,” his voice rough with emotion, the words carrying something that settles deep into your chest. He cups your face too, his thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart race.

Before you can react, both of his hands are on you, pulling you in as his lips press into yours with a raw, desperate need. The kiss is intense, consuming, as if he’s pouring everything he’s never said into that one moment. He’s still so gentle, so careful with your fragile state, but he holds you with eagerness. His grip tightens, and you melt against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt as if holding onto him will force time to stop here, to pause for just this moment.

The world blurs at the edges, everything fading into the background as the two of you stay locked in an embrace, the kiss deepening with every second. Neither of you pull away—neither of you want to. His breath, his touch, the feel of him against you is enough to keep you anchored to this moment, to each other.

And as his hold on you tightens, you realize you don’t need anything else. You realize for the first time in a long while, you’re not alone.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: twisted knife; sleepless night

Author: s7jacket

Artist: TwinOne

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Castiel

Length: 20000

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse, Outsider POV, Road Trip, Established Relationship, Second Person POV, Canon Divergence

Posting Date: November 12, 2024

Summary: All you’re trying to do is survive the night.

Survive the night and get to Safe Winter without running into too many zombies along the way.

You don’t expect to run into them, two guys who looked like they murdered the world and kept on walking.

Still, maybe an alliance wouldn’t be so bad.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

Excerpt: The map rustles when you spread it across the counter, thumb running over the red sharpie line that marks the route you've taken across the country, a haphazard zig-zag pockmarked by tragedy. Safe Winter is marked with a X, just another few weeks walk from where you are. It's been a long journey. A fucked up, doomed proposal from the start, but no one had a reason to argue or to stay behind. There were nine of you when you set out and now there's just you, alone and lonely and too damn stubborn to lay down and die, so you're pushing on regardless. You'll get there, or you'll go down fighting. At this point, either option will do.

You're just drifting off, dozing in that half-wakeful world beyond, when you hear them. Voices, drifting through the glass doors at the front. You're grateful for the shelf, but you don't relax. Relaxing is what nearly got you killed the last time. What actually did get the others killed. Not your fault but still. Hard to get past that one. The voices—two of them, both male, move away for a moment, then come back, loud enough that you can hear it even with one ear pressed against the fabric of your pack. 

They must have found a back entrance—maybe a propped open side door or a window that hadn’t latched properly—and now they’re in that back office, the one you’d so carelessly left unguarded. Still, the lock. The one line of defence between you and possible doom. The hair on the back of your neck prickles; your heartbeat pounds steadily in your ears. 

They seem to be having some sort of argument, but it sounds like it's been rehashed and revisited, an old wound that neither of them can stop picking at. Their voices are deep and rough. 

“Dude, I’m telling you, he’s not going to be there,” one of them is saying, and he sounds insistent, if a little desperate.

“We’ve checked everywhere else,” the other voice, somehow lower, replies, and he just sounds completely exasperated. “And don’t call me ‘dude’.”

“Sorry, buddy,” the first voice says. There’s the tiniest hint of a smile in it, like this is an old, inside joke. 

There’s a clatter and a rattle as they try the door and the low sound of under-the-breath swearing. A “fuck, c’mon—“ from the first voice and then a “here, let me—“ from the second, and then the creak of hinges shatters the already tenuous quiet. 

They come through the door. 

[marvelouslytrekking]

Wandering Off

Pairing: Din/reader Summary: You get separated from Din and subsequently get injured.  Din takes the responsibility of making sure you’re patched up Warnings: Swearing, typical violence, injury (not super descriptive) Word Count: 2673 A/N: I have been sitting on this one for awhile but here it finally is! I am so happy that we have Mando back (even if he seems to be the one needing cared for so far this season lol) As always, I suck at titles but here we are lol Also please let me know what you think by leaving a comment to make my day!

You weren’t sure how you had managed it, but you had gotten yourself separated from Din at a local market in a small town while doing a quick supply stop. You’d think a man clad in silver beskar from head to toe would be easy to locate but you had yet to be able to spot him again.

You had made a few loops of the market, hoping to run into him but you were having no luck. You were annoyed but sighed and decided to take the kid back to the ship. You and Din had an agreement that if somehow you got separated that you would make your way back to the Crest. It was better than trying to frantically find each other.

You decided to go through the forest since it would be shorter and you wouldn’t have to worry about other people on the road. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle yourself but you had chosen to leave without your blaster, which now felt like it wasn’t the best idea but you hoped that it still wouldn’t be needed.

You were making your way through the thick forest as quickly as you could, though you were starting to worry that you weren’t heading in the correct direction. You had decided to take a short break to see if you could manage to orient yourself.

It was once you had stopped that you suddenly got a very unsettled feeling. It felt like you were being watched. As soon as that thought had crossed your mind, you heard a twig snap. Your head whipped in the direction of the sound. You had hoped that maybe it had just been Din and he didn’t want to startle you, but your instincts were correct, you immediately saw the two men behind you, both with their blasters drawn.

You didn’t waste another second, you immediately broke out into a sprint. You hadn’t fully figured out exactly where you needed to go but you decided you were just going to have to deal with that afterwards. You ducked your head as you heard blaster shots hitting the trees above you. It did, however, make you aware that their orders must have been not to kill the kid, since the shots were clearly well above your head. That didn’t give you much relief as you were jumping over logs and trying not to trip on roots, though.

You had made sure you were holding the kid as close to your chest as you ran. You were consistently getting hit by small branches and you were trying to keep him from getting the small scratches that you knew were going to be covering your arms and legs.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder briefly, trying to determine where the hunters were behind you. That decision has been a mistake because you had missed the small downhill slope that had been in front of you. You let a out a yelp as suddenly you were going head over heels down the hill. You luckily were able to  use your own momentum to flip yourself fully over and found yourself back upright and running but unfortunately, you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, it was clear you had managed to twist it when you tripped. There was no time to think about it and there was no point in dwelling on the pain because if you stopped you would only be damning yourself and the kid to much worse.

You realized you needed to come up with some sort of a plan, something other than just running in a zig zag and hoping that you were either faster than them or could out-last them.

Even if you were heading in the direction of the Crest, with how hot on your tail they were, you wouldn’t make it into the ship and get the ship locked back up before they caught up to you. If Din was waiting for you back at the ship, there was hope since you know he would be able to handle these men quickly with a few blaster shots but you had no way of knowing if he was there.

Your only other option was to try and lose them in the forest somehow and to wait them out but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen since so far you hadn’t been able to shake them.

It seemed like your only good option was the ship. Something told you to head slightly left so you decided you had nowhere better to go, so you started to shift your zig zags to lead you to the left.

Luckily it wasn’t much longer until you noticed the trees starting to thin and an opening was before you. You let out a sigh of relief as you saw the shiny hunk of junk sitting in the open field. Even happier yet when you noticed the ramp was down which meant he was in fact waiting for you.

“Mando!” You screamed out as loud as you could hoping he would be able to realize that something was wrong.

Another blaster shot came from behind you but this time it wasn’t as high up. You realized they were not happy knowing you had just warned the Mandalorian of their pursuit. You should have known that Din would immediately be out of the ship upon hearing you. You saw his entire body tense as you shot out of the edge of the trees and was running straight at him.

A few blaster shots came from behind you. You found yourself ducking but it didn’t matter, you suddenly yelled out when a sharp, burning pain shot out from your shoulder. You tucked the child even closer to you as you collapsed onto the ground.

You tried to turn over so you could see what was happening or to be able to get up and offer Din some help but you found yourself only causing more pain. You were left trying to determine what was happening from listening.

You heard a few more shots go off before you felt someone gently rolling you over.

“It’s over, they’re gone.” Din said softly, letting you know it was him as he gently tried to move you. You let out a few pained noises as your weight was shifted on the wound.

“Gone or dead?” You knew the answer already but you asked anyway, mainly to distract from the pain.

“Dead.” He said as he slowly pulled Grogu from your arms. You felt him reach for you and let out a few whines as Din set him on the ground so that he would be able to get a better look at your shoulder.

“Well, how bad is it?” You asked to break the silence.

“Should be fine, can you get up?” If you didn’t know him any better, you would have thought he was being cold, that he didn’t care that you had been shot, but you could hear the tension in his voice and felt the slight shake in his hands as he slowly helped you sit up and then eventually stand.

You winced as you put weight on your right ankle. Din had been paying close attention and quickly snaked his arm around you to shift the weight from your injured ankle. “I tripped at one point, must have sprained it worse than I thought.” You explained even though he didn’t ask.

He helped guide you to the ship, the kid not really struggling to keep up since you were moving quite slow.  As soon as you were in, he commanded you to sit. There was no room for argument in his voice, but even if there had been you were currently too tired and in too much pain to be stubborn. You waited as he quickly made sure the ship was locked up and that you would be safe in case the two men weren’t alone.

When he was sure that the ship was properly locked down, he was back by your side with a med kit.

“I need you to take off your shirt.” He instructed. You began to try to pull it over your head, but quickly stopped when the pain was too unbearable.

“I can’t” You winced as a sharp pain shot across your shoulder when you tried to pull your shirt over your head.

“Here,” He reached out, taking the bottom of the shirt and starting to slowly pull it up.

“I’m sorry,” Din softly apologized as he noticed you tensing when he starting to move your arms. He huffed, realizing that pulling it over your head was only going to cause you more pain. Without warning he grabbed at the collar of your shirt and ripped it in half. You stared at him a little dumbfounded as he then carefully pulled each side down your arms and dropped the destroyed shirt behind you.

“You know, I liked that shirt.” You complained

“Well it was already ruined.”

You could tell that Din was inspecting all the other injuries that littered your arms. His thumb gently brushed along a particularly nasty gash that was on your upper arm. You’re not quite sure when exactly you got that one but you were sure that had to do with the amount of adrenaline that you had while trying to outlast the men.

“Looks like the trees also managed to do a good number on me.” You commented while your eyes trailed over yourself in the same way his did.

“We’ll have to get those cleaned next.” He told you before stepping behind you to get a better look at the blaster wound. He was being as careful as he could but that didn’t stop you from wincing at the sting as he worked. Any time he heard a noise of discomfort, you felt him tense and a soft apology would slip past his lips.

You found yourself focusing on his non-dominant hand that was spread across the top of your back and over your neck, keeping you steady as his other hand worked on cleaning and caring for your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice the heat that radiated from his gloveless hand, the flinches and tension in his fingers, or the soft way he would brush them back and forth, in a comforting motion when your discomfort would be made known.

Once he was finished with your shoulder, there was a slight moment, where neither of you moved. His hand that had done the work to patch up the injury, was resting further down your arm and his other was sliding up and down your back soothingly, eventually making its way to running along the bandage, as if inspecting his work, or possibly convincing himself that you were okay.

Finally he broke the moment and pulled away, coming to the other side of you. Now his focus was on the smaller cuts. He still didn’t say much as he meticulously cleaned the largest cut on your arm.

“I think this is going to need a few stitches,” He finally broke the silence. You looked down and with the dried blood cleaned away, he was right.

“Okay, I trust you.” You gave him permission to proceed. He gave you a nod before prepping everything to give you the needed stitches.

You had watched him give himself stitches on multiple occasions, had even helped him a handful of times, and yet you had never seen him so hesitant to start. He looked back up at you one more time, you held his gaze, or what you assumed to be his gaze for a few seconds before giving him a nod, hoping to ease whatever discomfort he currently had about closing your wound.

Another beat passed before he turned his attention back to your arm. Like before, you found yourself focusing on his other hand, the arm that had a light but firm hold on your arm to keep you steady. You tried your best to keep any pain to yourself so as to not make Din’s discomfort any worse, but you couldn’t stop a few pained whines from slipping past your lips. Each time, Din paused, looked up at you and apologized, he would wait for you to indicate that he could continue before he would.

Once the stitches were finished, he gently added a bandage. “Now I just need to clean all these smaller cuts and then I would like to take a look at your ankle.”

“I can clean all these, you don’t have to.” You told him softly. You knew your legs were probably just as covered in cuts as well and figured you could clean both your arms and legs on your own.

“I’ve got them” Was all he said before grabbing a disinfect wipe and carefully cleaning each cut. Most of them were of no consequence, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Mandalorian, he made sure they were each thoroughly cleaned and if any of them needed, properly bandaged.

“Thank you,” You said softly as he finally finished the last cut on your arm.

You got a nod in response, before he crouched down close to the floor. He grabbed the calf of your injured leg, pulling it closer to himself.  He looked up at you again, clearly waiting for permission to take a look at your ankle. You gave him another nod before watching as he carefully rolled your pants up. You and him winced at the same time as you noticed the very swollen ankle, which was already bruising. You knew it was from continuing to run after the initial injury but it wasn’t like you had had a choice.

“This may take awhile to heal” Din pointed out.

“I’ll be fine,” You insisted, “Nothing I can’t walk off”

You could feel the annoyed look Din was giving you, even if you couldn’t see his face.

“You will be doing no such thing.”

“You can’t put me on bed rest.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“You bet your ass I can”

You wanted to object but you knew that he was being quite serious and would not take you being stubborn well, especially after you almost got yourself killed.

“Fine, I promise to go easy, just wrap it up and then we can get off this stupid rock.” You sighed.

Din gave a satisfied noise before pulling his focus back to your ankle. He carefully wrapped the ankle, making sure it was tight enough to reduce the swelling and to make sure to stabilize it but not too tight as to be uncomfortable or to cause the blood flow to be stopped.

“Are there any other injuries I’ve missed?” He asked when he finished.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” Din stood up and offered his arm for you. You carefully stood up, keeping your weight on your good ankle. As soon as you were standing, Din snaked his arm under you and helped gently lead you towards your bunk.

“Do you need anything else?” He asked after you were settled into the blankets.

“No, I think you’ve covered everything,” You gave him an appreciative smile, “Thank you”

“Anytime.” He replied, “Though, if you were better at following my directions, things like this wouldn’t happen.”

“Are you seriously blaming me for getting shot?” You huffed.

“Well I do remember telling you to grab your blaster before leaving, and to not wander off.” He pointed out.

“I just don’t think it's very kind to blame me, the very injured person, right now.” You pouted.

“Fine but once you’re healed, we will be continuing this conversation.”

“Of course we will” You playfully rolled your eyes. While it could be annoying how overbearing Din was, after the way he had just cared for you, it was clear it was because of how much you meant to him, which made it hard to be mad at him.