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pizzapottah · 3 months ago

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I’m gonna pack my things (and leave you behind)

summary: You’re five years old when Darth Vader kills your mom. Or — so you think — your parents.

pairing: han solo x skywalker!reader (eventually), platonic skywalker family x reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: so many feelings, reader's anakin and padme's daighter, also she's a itty bitty haunted by the force, anakin and padme die but it’s not really explored much (yet), mentions of childbirth, nightmares, mentions of anakin’s demise on mustafar, one swear word i think

author's note: I know y'all want an update on the heir and the wolf and that the star wars fandom is as dead as pope francis but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE 🙏🙏🙏 this is for the 2 people that said they would read it lmao

divider from @saradika

You’re four years old when your mum comes back to your apartment on Coruscant with the happy news.

She nears your room, where you're trying to screw back together a toy lightsaber that you somehow managed to dissect — tongue sticking out of your mouth, a concentrated pout prominent on your face. You’re really your father’s daughter, she ponders sometimes, thinking back to that blonde boy on the sand planet that managed to build a whole robot with scraps. The nurse droid, RO-N4, is dutifully watching your work, assuring that you don’t hurt yourself in the process and hinting at the pieces that should go back together; she raises her head when she sees that Padmé has returned.

You jump up when you notice her, running to give her a big hug, almost making her lose her balance; but she’s used to it, and wastes no time in hoisting you on her hip. The robot stands up, ready to gently reprimand you, but your mother gingerly shoos her away with a smile. “Why don’t you go out with Threepio on a walk? I’ll stay here with her. We have something to discuss.” she winks at you, “Some serious girl talk to do, am I right?”

You giggle — that childish, innocent laugh that makes hours of relentless debates in the Senate worth going through — rubbing your cheek against hers. “Yeah! I have shoooo many things to tell you, mama!”

The robots follow the senator’s suggestion, stumbling their way out of the door, and you soon go back to the area dedicated to your toys to show her your hard work. “Look, mama!” you’re basically jumping up and down in joy, holding up the pieces of the once toy lightsaber. “This is the cyber crystal–”

“Kyber crystal, sweetie.”

“Ky-ber crystal. And then this is the one part of the handle with the switch–”

You could go on and ramble for hours, she thinks. She’d happily listen to all and any of your thoughts and wonders and never get tired from it. Soon enough, Padmé’s lying down on the soft sponge puzzle pieces of the playmat that serve to prevent any possible injury from falling over. We’ll need to change those soon, she thinks absentmindedly, she’s already grown out of the always-falling-over phase.

She isn’t sure of how much time passes; at some point your ramblings slow and you scoot closer to her, sniggling in her lap. “Mama,” you mumble, yawning. “‘m so happy that you’re here. I missed you a lot today.”

Her heart breaks. A hand carding through your locks, she smiles sadly, “I know, sweetie, I’m sorry that mama has to work so much. But I promise it’s just so that once you grow up you will be able to live in a peaceful Galaxy, without ever worrying about learning how to fight like your papa.”

You perk up. “But I wanna be like papa when I grow up.”

She shakes her head, feigning her best scandalized expression. “How dare you? What am I, chopped liver?” she takes you in her arms and blows raspberries in your cheeks, making you squeal and thrash around. “Nooo! Don’t, mama, it’s ticklish!”

“What about being a senator, mh?” she offers, not unkindly. “We can fight too, you know.” She puts on her best imitation of Palpatine and presses a matter of utmost importance, “Senator Skywalker, what do you think we should have for dinner as of today?”

Your chuckle makes your little chest rumble against her belly. Your surname is not Skywalker — it is Amidala, often Naberrie when on Naboo, but never have your parents referred to you as that; they mostly leave it out when asked, avoiding the question but never stating either the truth or the cover-up. There’s still hope to change the Order, Anakin always says, that one day she can wear my surname without it causing a scandal. And Padmé believes him: and she believes that when the time comes, you’ll be rightly known as Senator Skywalker.

Suddenly, you go quiet. “I want papa,” you whisper it like it’s forbidden — it kind of is, but you shouldn’t know that. Padmé’s heart breaks a little again. Anakin was sent out on a mission two weeks ago and hasn’t even been able to keep in touch ever since, making you miss him terribly.

She laughs as softly as she can — she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. “No can do, sweetie. Papa isn’t due to be home in at least another three days, but I’m sure that once he’s here he’ll be elated to spend some time with you. Besides, you can’t eat papa for dinner.” she rests her cheek on her hand, patting the free space next to her. “Until he comes back, it’s just you and me. What would you like to do tomorrow? I have no Senate meetings.”

You scoot closer, lying down on the spot she just patted, curling against her chest, “Can we see Ahsoka, then?”

She chuckles a little quieter now. Her and Anakin still don't know how to explain to you that she left the Order a while ago and has no intention on returning to Coruscant any time soon. “Ahsoka’s away like papa, honey. But I’m sure that once she comes back, she’ll be just as happy as he will to spend time with you.”

She smooths your hair back, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, pressing her hand up and down your back. She wonders how good of a sister you’ll be; and even if she knows you’ll be wonderful with the new baby, she still can’t bring herself to say it out loud. “How about I make some shaak meat and then get you prepared for a good bubble bath?”

You look up at her, pouting, “But I’m big now! Do I really have to bathe?”

Padmé bursts out laughing. “You’ll have to clean yourself your whole life, sweetheart, to hopefully not smell like a bantha.”

You huff, glaring at her. “Papa barely even showers.”

“Papa stinks. He was raised on a planet with barely any water and still considers showers optional. Do you ever hear me tell him how I love his perfume? No, that’s because he doesn’t use any. You hear me sending him to sleep on the couch because he smells terribly, though.”

You end up eating your dinner — vegetables included — without a fuss and going to take your bath like a champ. Somewhere along that timespan both the nurse droid and C-3PO came back home to be of help in cleaning the kitchen as Padmé prepares you for bed, lying down next to you and reading to you one of the stories in the hologram that Anakin bought on one of his last missions.

MId-story, she notices you get eerily silent. She carefully turns her head, trying to understand if you’re already sleeping, only to find you more awake than her, eyes open wide. “Is… is everything alright, sweetie?” she asks, a bit bewildered– just a moment ago, you looked like you were about to fall asleep, and now you look like you’re ready to fight everything that could be thrown at you.

“Mama,” you whisper it like it’s a secret, “I just remembered. How are they?”

She blinks, confused. “Who?”

“The twins,” you say, “Luke and Leia.” you pat her belly as if to state the obvious.

She looks at you, horrified — she found out she was pregnant today, and no droid or doctor mentioned twins. “I– sweetheart, what?”

You lean your head, confused. “I saw them yesterday in a dream. They asked me about you.”

Her heart almost stops. She laughs nervously, looking at you with wide eyes, expecting you to say something about the weird and absolutely not real dream that you had, but instead you just stare at her, completely serious. “What… what do you mean?”

You frown. “If you don’t know, then I can’t help you. Nighty night.” you tuck yourself under the covers and curl above her chest once again, sighing happily.

Padmé’s heart feels heavy. It’s happening again– you murmur something about having had a dream, say something even more alarming, then completely ignore what you just said and act like nothing happened. It’s getting worrying — Padmé managed to get you out of the Jedi program last year just because of her status as senator, but she is sure that this year, she won’t be as lucky. The quantity of midi-chlorians in your blood can’t be hid, unfortunately, and in probably less than a year she will be forced to give you up to the Temple.

Anakin’s sure you will make a great Jedi, but your mother’s worried — and how can she not be? Her husband’s more away than he is at home, and with the war going on, it’s already a miracle he manages to visit Coruscant. The fact that you seem to possess your father’s horrifying ability to dream about possible futures doesn’t ease her worries.

“I’m just worried about her–”

“But why? She’s young, she’ll be trained–”

“She will, but I don’t want her to be haunted by the thoughts of possible futures and whatnot.”

It’s late. You’ve already gone to bed, shushed by Anakin’s stories and anecdotes from his latest mission, and even if this should be a carefree and happy moment because her husband has managed to come back home unscathed again– your mother just can’t get something out of her head.

Anakin huffs and puts his hands on his waist, looking at Padmé like she’s crazy — there it is, where you got your attitude from. “I can always call one of the Temple guards and tell them that there’s a Force-sensitive kid here. They can train her until I can take her as Padawan; it’ll take, what? Six, seven years? Hopefully I’ll be done with the war by that time and will be able to focus on her as my padawan.”

His wife crosses her arms, glaring at him, “I don’t want her as your padawan,” she grits out, “I want her safe, here, where we can have a decent relationship and she won’t be stripped away from my arms.”

He leans his head and raises an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I can’t make her dreams go away. I don’t even know how to make my nightmares go. But at the Temple, they can teach her how to control them, how to use them for her own good– for the Order’s and the Republic’s own good–”

“You say that just because you wouldn’t have any problems in seeing her,” she sniffs, “you’ll be a welcome, familiar presence in the Temple — but it is known that they don’t let anyone outside of the Jedi enter.”

His shoulders drop, and he starts shaking his head. “Padmé…”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me that we have to give her up to the Temple, because I don’t want to and I won’t–”

“But we’ll have to, Padmé, they’ll teach her everything she’ll ever need and–”

She bursts out crying. It might be the pregnancy, or the fact that she still hasn’t told him about it and it’s eating her alive, but she’s much more emotional than usual. “I don’t want them to take her away from me!”

Anakin’s eyes soften, his posture breaks, “Oh, dear,” he mutters, pulling her in his arms and letting her cry out in his chest. “It’ll be alright,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her head, “we’ll find a solution for everything.” He still doesn’t know when or how, but he’ll try with everything he has to solve this situation to the best of his ability.

He had honestly thought Padmé was exaggerating when she said that you were having visions, probably thinking it was just baby babbling or something, but he is proven wrong that same night, when he is abruptly woken up by the sound of the door of their bedroom opening.

“Papa?” you call out from the doorstep, voice sleepy.

He manages to get himself out of bed — when he’s home, night duty is always on him, as Padmé already deals with it enough while he’s away — and, yawning, he walks off to you and kneels down to your level, sending a glance to your bantha plushie safely tucked under your elbow. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Blank stare on your part, you look at him like a war veteran would. “You were being burned, papa.”

He blinks and counts to five before accepting that it’s way too late in the night — or early in the morning, he has no idea — to deal with this type of shit. “Okay, listen– how about we go catch some fresh air outside, hm?”

You let him pick you up without any protests, curling up in his arms as you whimper quietly. He drags his feet along the pavement of the apartment, sliding open the door to the terrace that overlooks the whole city; it’s like it never sleeps, always someone going around and about with their speeders, lights often left on in the apartments below. The night air sends a chill down his spine and he instinctively holds you tighter in hopes to shield you from the cold.

“Mum told me about these dreams you’ve been having,” he starts slowly.

You hum, pressing closer to him, the plushie squashed between you two. Your eyes look tired, almost older than you actually are, and his heart squeezes at the sight. “Papa, do you know Darth Vader?”

His heart skips a beat. He knows no Vader, surely not a Sith named like that, but the fact that you dreamed about it almost makes his knees buckle. He mentally promises himself to make some digging in the archives and reports for any Vaders that might be hiding out there. “I don’t, sweetheart. Do you?”

Your brows furrow, your little hand patting the skin above his heart. “I don’t think I do.”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Well, what does he do in your dreams?”

Your frown deepens. “I never see him. But Obi-Wan’s afraid of him– or, or angry at him, I’m not sure. Maybe both.”

His frown mirrors yours. You’ve never met Obi-Wan aside from a time or two when he was assigned as bodyguard to your mother, but that was years ago; you shouldn’t be able to remember him. “How do you know who Obi-Wan is, sweetheart?”

You stare at him like he’s stupid. “Isn’t he a friend?”

“I mean, I guess he is, but you’ve never actually met him, have you?”

“Then I think I will.” you cuddle back on his shoulder like nothing happened.

Yeah, we gotta send this one to the Temple, he bitterly thinks. The thought of your mother alone in this apartment after years of having you around makes him sad, but there’s no one else apart from the masters there that could help you — he would try to, if the war wasn’t stripping him of all of his free time.

Anakin has no time to properly train you. As of now, he could manage to give you chopped notions and barely any principles; in the Temple, all the Jedi solely focus on the younglings’ training, a luxury he can’t afford right now.

She’s still so young, Padmé’s voice rings in his head, I don’t want her to forget about me.

Six years old might be already too old for a youngling, Anakin ponders, but five years old would be perfect. They still accept kids that age.

Another birthday for Padmé, he decides, another birthday and then off to the Temple she goes.

Except, he doesn’t know there’s no time for another birthday. Not for Padmé, anyways. Nor for him, too, some could argue.

“Papa,” you mumble, “could you sing me that lullaby?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for that?” He teases, with no actual intent in ever stopping to sing Ghost Star to you. You could be forty and him on his deathbed and, if you asked, he’d still sing it for you. “Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me…”

You do end up properly meeting Obi-Wan. That is, unfortunately, after — for what you know — both your parents die.

The air in the spacecraft is eerily still, as even C-3PO is stunned to silence. The tears on your cheeks have long since dried, and you keep fidgeting with a small, faintly glowing cube in your hands — the only thing you managed to take with you when your mother loaded you into the spaceship directed to Mustafar. She’s — was, was, was — able to open it, but you still have no idea how to do it; your father promised he would have taught you to, but… well. He now never will.

The cries from the med bay stopped a while ago. And while you’re still so young, you know that the silence means nothing good. You might not be a master of the Force, or know enough about it to understand fully what it means, but you’ve felt it — your mother’s presence slipping away in favor of two smaller ones.

Finally, after a time that seems never-ending, Obi-Wan emerges from the door connecting the hallway with the infirmary, his expression full of sorrow. He looks surprised by your calmness, almost as if he had expected you to have gone crazy by now. “Hi,” he breathes lowly, tired and remorseful. How do you tell a kid her mother’s dead when just a few hours ago you had to break the same type of news about her father?

After he understands that you’re not going to reply, he gets closer and kneels in front of you, taking note of the cube you’re holding in your hands — a holocron. Does she know how to open it, yet? “Hey, kid,” he tries as softly as he can, “I…”

“Mama’s gone, isn’t she?” You interrupt him. Obi-Wan almost stumbles; the look in your eyes is scaringly similar to the one Anakin had sometimes, strangely old for your age. “I felt her slipping away like papa did.”

His lips are pressed into a thin line as he puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” he says it even though he knows it won’t change anything. “We tried everything, but even the medical droid had no idea what to do.”

“Oh,” C-3PO mumbles as R2-D2 beeps sadly. “This– this is horrendous news.”

You nod absentmindedly, like you’d seen it coming. “Are Luke and Leia okay?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Who?”

“The twins. Are they okay?”

As even Padmé looked surprised by the fact she was having twins, he wonders how in the world you knew and gave them names. Your mother left no names behind, and he had thought about just naming them after your parents, but if you already had names picked out… then it’s not his place to name your siblings, is it?

“They are.” C-3PO sighs in relief as R2-D2 lets out a happier beep. “Would you like to see them?”

You nod timidly, almost stumbling as you stand up from the chair you sat in and taking Obi-Wan’s hand when he offers it to you. You’re still gripping on the holocron like a lifeline, its dim glow faltering every now and then. “Do you know what that is?” He asks, pointing at it as the door to the infirmary opens.

You glance at it, unsure. “Dunno. Mama always played the hologram inside when I missed papa, but I tried opening it and it didn’t work.”

If Padmé managed to open it, then Anakin must’ve programmed the holocron so that the Force frequency needed to open it was small enough that she could play it; even if you were a prodigy like your father, though, it would be impossible for you to open it without directions or a minimal training.

The nurse-droid your mother brought with her is feeding some milk to one of the twins when you enter — Obi-Wan guesses she might have had it with her the whole time, because he doesn’t remember this ship having such a thing as baby formula in its stocks.

RO-N4 places the infant back in the cot with the other twin as soon as they burp, and since you’re still too short to properly look at them Obi-Wan has to take you in his arms for you to have a good peek.

“This is Leia,” he murmurs softly, pointing at the baby with small tufts of brown hair. “She was born first.” He then points to the smaller, uglier and balder twin, “And this is Luke; he was born right after.”

You coo, pushing your index finger against Luke’s cheek. “They’re so ugly,” you state, not exactly with the intent of insulting them– just saying what’s in your mind.

Obi-Wan chuckles fondly. “Well, I’m sure you were at least as ugly as them when you were this little. Pretty much everyone is.”

You turn to him, holocron still in hand, hesitantly nudging it to him. “Mister Obi,” you say, calling him with the nickname that later on will stick to him for pretty much your entire time spent with him, “do you know how to play this?”

He nods, taking the holocron in his hand and changing his hold on you so that he can use his other hand while still keeping you upright, “This is a holocron. It’s used by Force users to store information and files, and it opens if infused with the Force. Let’s see…”

He concentrates on the cube, focusing a small amount of Force within it, then delicately twists the corners as it starts to glow steadier. Just as he expected — the smallest amount of Force that even Padmé could’ve been able to conjure up. The holocron starts to float, projecting a hologram in the dim-lit room.

It starts with Anakin, clearly just knighted as a proper Jedi: he’s still a bit scrawny, his hair’s yet to grow after the braid and the small ponytail for padawans had been cut. He looks a bit embarrassed to be in front of the camera as a small baby’s cries echo in the recording. “Do I really have to do this?” He mutters.

A laugh comes from the side, and the baby’s cries get louder — maybe closer to the camera. “Of course you do!” It’s Padmé’s voice, amused but clearly tired, stabbing directly into Obi-Wan's heart. That poor, poor girl… “It’s the only way she’ll stop crying, and since you’re mostly off-world, she’s mostly crying. This will solve a lot of my problems — even the droids are starting to go mad.”

A pair of arms and a swoosh of a dress appear to the side, and suddenly a crying infant is trusted into Anakin’s hands. It’s you, his master realises, crying as if the world’s about to end, face all red and pudgy, definitely a bit less ugly than your siblings. Your father’s eyes soften in a way that makes Obi-Wan’s heart ultimately crumble.

“Hey,” he murmurs, cooing and humming as he presses kisses all over your cheeks. He winces as your face contorts even more, “Now, c’mon, don’t look at me like that,”

“Please, Master, just sing the song!” It’s C-3PO’s voice in the distance, full of despair and anguish. “Another sob and the metal holding me together might just turn to rust!” R2-D2’s beeping seems to be of the same idea as him.

Anakin huffs, glaring down at you with no real hostility. “You’re one hell of a spoiled baby, you know that?”

Your cries continue nonetheless. He glares at the camera. “Padmé, I love you, but if anyone else ever sees this, I’m divorcing you,”

“You would never,” your mother’s knowing voice is a mere rumble in the distance as Anakin settles to hold you tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead before starting to sing.

“Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me. Ghost star, hiding in the night, all your friends are all so bright… when the sky is clear, I can sense you near, looking down on me. Ghost star, silent in the sky, now I start to wonder why. Show me your light; I've waited all night. Ghost star, won't you sing with me?”

He sings the lullaby multiple times until you’re completely knocked out, dismissing Padmé when she offers to take you back to your room, preferring to keep you close for another while. His stare as he looks at you is so tender that Obi-Wan can’t believe he just had to leave him to die.

Soon enough the recording restarts, the same banter and song again, but he lets it play. Every word is a guilt trip, every laugh a stab in his chest, and the image of Anakin with a baby happily sleeping against his chest might just be the end of him.

By the time he finally shuts the holocron off both you and the twins are passed out; he tries to convince himself that the hole in his chest isn’t gnawing away at the last bit standing of his sanity. He looks at you, carding a hand through your hair, of the same tenderness as your father but with the same curl of your mother's, and decides here and there to never tell you about what really happened on Mustafar. Not that he really had the intention to do, as of now, but… you don’t deserve to know about Vader. Obi-Wan won’t let you live with the knowledge that your father killed both himself and your mother, no.

And so, the lie about Darth Vader killing both Senator Amidala and her loyal guard, Anakin Skywalker, who lost his life fighting for hers, is born.

#han solo x reader #han solo x you #han solo fanfiction #han solo x y/n #padme amidala x anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader (platonic)#padme amidala x reader (platonic)#obi-wan kenobi x reader (platonic)#skywalker!reader #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker x reader (platonic)#leia organa x reader (platonic)#pizzapottah's writing #star wars fanfic #revenge of the sith

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dameronspector · 3 months ago

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Getaway Car (Part 1)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader

Summary: You've never asked Manny for anything- except this. You wouldn't stand for such a heinous crime so you ask Manny to rebel against Abby and spend the rest of your life peacefully. AKA you're a reluctant firefly and you save Joel.

Warnings: Friends to lovers, Established relationship, Mentions of starvation, mentions of killing people, reader loses her parents, Cursing, Manny is a reckless dumbass, reader is against Abby and the WLF/Fireflies, ANGST, fuck neil and his characterisation of Manny, Manny is overprotective, possible inaccuracies, thats it i think!

AN: my lovely friend @taylorsroxy inspired me to write this with her amazing prompt <3 and i had a long discussion with her, where we agreed that if Manny was a loyal friend, he’d be even more loyal as a partner. So this is that. He’s a very interesting character to me and Danny does a really good fucking job playing him.☺️ PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination. Plus, I headcanoned the QZ where they first met as Miami because that's Danny's hometown.

Look, you never wanted to be a part of the Fireflies. But it was either starving to death on the filthy streets of the QZ or getting shot at point blank because you asked for a place to live in.

2008

You were only 14 when they found you. Low on rations, stomach cramping in pain and your body aching throughout from the lack of food and energy— you needed to find a way to survive. You and your family had been on the run, trying to a find a place to stay. But the situation was escalating, many QZ’s were overpopulated so they would either throw you out or kill you. Somehow, your parents and you managed to escape and tried to enter a QZ near Miami but were stopped by the Fireflies at the main gate. They were going to kill you, something about it being a part of their job and that their QZ didn’t have extra space but your parents traded their backpacks and requested for one thing- for you to get shelter. You thrashed against the unfamiliar arms dragging you away from your parents. They were all that you had- the rest of your family being dead or unreachable. The last thing you saw before they took you away were the teary faces of your parents and a muffled sound of two gunshots. From that moment onwards, you made sure that you would go out of the way and help people in need, believing that a little humanity goes a long way. It was also a desperate time for you as you needed food and shelter to survive because in a world like yours, morals were non-existent and people would go to extreme lengths just to steal your morsel. So you steeled yourself accepted the job begrudgingly.

A week later, you were nursed back to health and put on patrols on your first night as a Firefly. Just normal recon stuff for a beginner, to check your ‘skills’ like you were in a damn military camp (it basically was, a military camp.)

And on that night, you met him for the first time.

They told you his name was Manny Alvarez. He was older than you by only a year and they said that he was one of their best. He was going to be your patrol partner, to teach you about the workings of the organisation and to show you around the area.

But even in the low moonlight with the filth and dirt surrounding you, all you could focus on was him. His hair was neatly cropped into a military-grade haircut—trimmed and shaved on the sides but you could clearly see his curls upon closer inspection. His jawline was sharp, skin smooth and he had the biggest brown eyes that shone even in the dark. His eyes were observant, always on the lookout for any trouble, and he had the most endearing set of lower teeth that were crooked in shape. He didn’t smile much around you at first, choosing to keep his space and hanging out with the 4 people who were always with him, but you were captivated by him. You thought it couldn’t get any worse but then he spoke to you with that smooth baritone laid back nature of his. And you were completely gone.

Maybe your sorrow and emptiness was making you act like this, or maybe you were just being a teenager, but you felt an instant attraction to him and you weren’t sure how to control it without embarrassing yourself like any teenager would in front of their crush.

2010

It’s been two years since you joined the Fireflies. And it’s been two years since Manny Alvarez became your new best friend. You weren’t sure how the friendship came to be. He didn’t talk much and you were too traumatised to speak up so you would just observe him and take in his instructions. But as time passed, you two started enjoying each other’s company and willingly hung out or partnered for patrol. You’d talk for hours- in hushed whispers, during a rainy night or in sarcastic jabs during a summer morning— Manny and you would be found chatting away, lost in your own bubble. Be it recalling fond memories or gossips from the QZ, you’d tell each other everything. Maybe it was because of your shared traumas that you two bonded, or maybe it’s because your souls just clicked. Nevertheless, you were glad you could at least be his friend.

Everything you knew today, is because of Manny. He taught you how to shoot, how to negotiate with traders, how to bargain, how to listen for any odd noises, how to deal with the infected—everything. Still, this did not lessen your hatred for the Fireflies. You took up these skills for survival, for self defence, if needed—not to kill innocents. Everytime you were asked to kill someone innocent, someone who had to be “eliminated” because there was no space in the QZ or because you were supposed to steal their supplies, you felt nauseous and disgusted. Often times they would threaten you if you didn’t finish the job and Manny would do it for you with no hesitation. That was something that always caught you off guard- his nonchalance at these actions. He wouldn’t think twice before pushing you aside and shielding you from the kill or the senior officers. He was also a hot headed man and you always worried that it would be the reason of his death someday. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t scare you.

One night while casually chatting, he shared that he was survived by his father, who was often sick and Manny would always help him in any way he could, that he had left Mexico to come to the States when he was just 10 years old, and ever since then, he’s been with the Fireflies. That shocked you to the core, he never got a chance to have a proper childhood. It made your heart ache at the fact that he had to grow up so soon. So you made it your mission to tell him things throughout the day that would bring out that curious and endearing shimmer in his eyes that you came to love and know.

You told him about your life before you came to the QZ and since then, Manny had sort of taken you under his wing. He’d become protective over you, accompanying you to do any kind of work, not letting you go alone or with someone he didn’t trust. You noticed that quite early on about him—Manny was fiercely loyal and a protector of those who were important to him. And the fact that he considered you important enough to feel protective over you, made your stomach curl with excitement.

Soon, he introduced you to his ‘family’ or his friends with whom he’s been with since he came to the QZ. Their names were Abby, Owen, Mel and Nora. You were a shy thing, you didn’t really speak to them unless they spoke to you first but Manny kept bringing you into conversations and brought you to meal times with them, encouraging you to talk. The more you talked, the more you got to know about their lives. You exchanged stories and eventually became a part of their group. Although you chose to maintain a safe distance because you were more comfortable with Manny, you were glad you finally had some more people to talk to.

Even after being around new people, you preferred to stick around Manny. Something about him and the way he acted towards you, put you at ease. Every time he would notice that you were sitting alone or disconnecting from the conversations, he would subtly bring you back by cracking jokes or by lightly flirting with you to bring out that bashful smile of yours (emphasis on the lightly.) He had no idea what that did to your poor heart. But that’s just how he was—jovial around his friends, always wanting to keep them happy and being the glue that kept them together.

He would magically appear whenever you had a nightmare. Your parents’ and the countless innocent lives’ soulless eyes haunting you everytime you closed your eyes. You swore Manny was keeping an eye on you because every time you jolted up from a particularly bad dream, he would be there to console you. He’d hold your hands in his gently, like you were made of something fragile and talk to you or just wipe your tears. Or he would cradle your head against his chest and softly hum a forgotten tune in your ears, staying there until you fell asleep.

In between all these new changes, you realised that one thing would be a constant— your feelings for Manny were not going away any time soon.

2015

It’s been 7 years since you became friends with Manny Alvarez and you spent those 7 years hating the Fireflies and falling in love with Manny.

You don’t even know how it happened. Somewhere along the way, the lines between friendship and something more kept blurring. He started touching you more, lingering hugs or a hand resting on your lower back, an arm slung across your shoulders or holding your hands when you had a nightmare or a panic attack. Manny became even more protective if that was possible—fussing over you before you left for patrol. And god forbid if you got hurt, he’d rain hell on the person who did it and on those who tried to hurt you. You humbled him by telling him to get a grip and that you were a grown adult (you were pushing him away because you couldn’t handle the rejection if he ever found out about your feelings) ,but Manny was as stubborn as a bull and he would have none of that.

You tried your best to become desensitised to all the immoral things that being a part of the Fireflies came with, but you could never stop that feeling of disgust when you saw the others defend these acts. This just made Manny act more and more reckless—going to extreme lengths to protect you if he had to. He’d simply take your gun out of your hands and end it in a quick and clean aim. You’d be left staring at him in disbelief, your insides curling with fear and want at the same time. This is not to say that you’re a saint, you’ve killed your fair share of people. Some out of defence, some because you just had to. But you drew the line at torturing innocent people and children for your personal gain, especially when you knew that the people in the Fireflies have done worse, having heard about the dirty secrets of almost everyone through the grapevine.

It all changed one day, when you’d agreed to patrol with a different person instead of Manny or the others. Manny was on edge since the night before, asking you to refuse or fake being sick. But both of you knew that was not possible.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”, you asked him, exasperated. He was being a bit too much than his usual self right now.

Manny whipped his head to look at you in shock. “Overreacting? Are you serious?”

You rolled your eyes at him and sighed. “Manny, it’s just the routine. We’ve done this a million times before I’ll be—” “Yeah. We. We’ve done this before. You’re going with that loser today”, he ran his hands through his fair in frustration.

You paused and gave him a look before scoffing. “Is that what this is about? That we’re not going together?”

You saw the way he froze and locked his jaw, the muscle in his jawline twitching. “And what if it was?”

You gaped at him. There’s just no way he just admitted to that. You chortled and shook your head before going back to packing. “You’re being ridiculous, Alvarez.”

Your back was facing him so you didn’t see the way his face flashed with hurt. He didn’t want you to go without him because he believed that loser wouldn’t be able to protect you like he could and also because Manny worried about you. As soon as he had woken up, he felt a pit so deep in his stomach–his gut instinct warning him to not let you go. But he knew you didn’t have the luxury to do so.

You turned around to face his beautiful, sullen face and tried to comfort him. “Manny…I’ll be careful, I promise”, you whispered to him and held up your pinky finger. He looked at it and gave you a half-hearted chuckle. You smiled. “You know you want to”, you shook your pinky at him. He rolled his eyes and huffed in disbelief before reluctantly linking his pinky with yours. You squeezed it and brought your linked pinkies closer before pressing a light kiss against his. His eyes softened up and he suddenly looked boyish, your heart soaring with affection after seeing him behave like a normal 20-something year old.

You parted ways from him and Manny spent the entire day with his chest heavy because of anxiety. You couldn’t radio, so he had no idea if you were safe or if you were even ali-no. He had to be positive for his sanity’s sake. But it all came crashing down when you returned later than you were supposed to. Manny was already on edge, pacing around and not focusing on his tasks when he saw you walk through the gates. He rushed over to hug you.

“You’re late, what happened?”, he chided you and pressed you closer to him.

“I’m-i’m sorry…”, your hoarse voice responded.

In his panic, he hadn’t noticed how quiet you were, your body way too loose, your arms holding him way too lightly. He pulled back and held you by your forearms.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re so quiet..Did something happen?”, he hurriedly asked you, his entire being on edge as your body became slower and heavier.

“M-Manny—”, you whimpered before promptly passing out in his arms. Manny barely had a moment to realise what was happening when you passed out in his arms and he fell to his knees, his arms cradling you against his chest. If he was freaking out before, he sure was panicking now, his hands itching to hurt the person who did this to you.

“Hey-hey. Open your eyes, (Name), open your eyes! Please, look at me-”, he blabbered, hand shaking your face gently. It was then he felt something warm and sticky against his stomach. He pulled you away slightly and noticed a bright red stain against his shirt. And yours. Your entire middle was soaking wet from blood-your blood. And he was covered in your blood.

He felt sick. Manny was hyperventilating, he was not sure what he was supposed to do, his hands shaking out of pure adrenaline and fear. His breathing became laboured and he suddenly picked you up and rushed towards the med-centre, his vocal chords unable to produce any sound other than shaky whimpers. He felt pathetic and weak.

Manny wasn’t sure what he’d do if something happened to you. He was so used to your quiet, calm and courageous presence next to him that he was sure he’d lose himself if he lost you. He still hadn’t told you he loved you and now you’d die without ever knowing that he’s always loved you. That everytime he was away from you, it felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. That every time you looked at him with that shy smile on your face, he wanted to burn the world for you and keep you safe. Manny was sure of one thing—he’d find the person who did this to you and end them.

After two painful hours of waiting and wanting to die, Manny finally received some news about your health. They told him that someone had stabbed you, the wound was deep and your body showed signs of stress and exhaustion from blood loss and because you had walked for miles, your body was dehydrated as well. But they managed to control the situation and had stitched you up and since you were still unconscious and out of it, they informed him that you needed lots of rest. Abby and the rest had gathered around Manny to give him support as he was refusing to eat or drink or even move from that same spot he had been standing at since he got there.

He sat there next to you for 3 days. You were comatose for 3 full days. He felt like you were slipping through his fingers. But he couldn’t do anything, his body and mind too numb to even move or do anything else. And then you moved. Your hands twitched, your eyes fluttering behind the lids and he felt like someone had pumped oxygen back into his body. You slowly opened your eyes and tried to focus on the person before you, pained groans leaving your mouth.

Manny got up from the chair and laid a gentle hand on your head, soothing you, “Sh, sh. It’s okay, hang on. Let me get someone.”

You whimpered, suddenly alert when you realised it was Manny. “Stay. Please.”

Manny furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his jaw to stop the sob from tearing through his mouth. He wasn’t weak, he didn’t cry like this, so why did his throat feel like it had a big boulder stuck in it?

“Manny…” “Don’t waste your energy, (nickname). I’m here. I’m always here”, he reassured you and held your left hand in his, his thumb caressing your forehand.

When you were allowed to leave the med-centre, Manny oh-so-gently carried you to your shared room with Nora. He laid you across your bed and tucked you in, firmly telling you to not leave the bed and tell him if you needed anything. You just smiled at him and whispered a soft ‘okay’, heart fluttering at his care for you. He then took a moment to look at your exhausted face and felt his eyes well up with tears. He ducked his head, face scrunched up in emotion and shoulders shaking with silent sobs. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern, in your 7 years of knowing him, Manny has never cried in front of you.

“Manny? What’s wrong?”, you called out to him and reached for his hand, wincing in pain when you accidentally pulled on your stitches. His head shot up and he encased your hand in his, gently pushing you back into a comfortable position.

“I told you to not to get up. Are you going to listen to me or not?”, he chided you, busying himself with tucking your blanket around you, avoiding your scrutinising stare. He felt exposed. You always had a way of making him feel so vulnerable every time you looked at him with those expressive eyes.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been so quiet for the past few days. Are you upset with me?”, you questioned him worriedly, your hands playing with a few loose threads on the blanket. Manny let out a weary sigh and leaned closer to lay his head on your chest, his arms carefully hugging you around the waist- careful not to aggravate your wound. You froze. If he was feeling extra clingy than usual, then he must’ve been really upset about something. You looked at him in concern and buried your hands in his loose curls, his hair a little longer now.

“What’s up, sweetheart? You’re worrying me. It’s bad manners to trouble the injured”, you lightly joked. You got an annoyed click of the tongue and his head burying deeper in your neck in return. You let out a content sigh and brushed your other hand across his back, happy to stay here in his warm embrace for as long as you could.

“You scared me to death, (Name). I was this close to dying of a heart attack or killing someone”, his hoarse voice vibrated against your throat. The muscles around your neck moved as you swallowed in guilt, “I’m so sorry, Manny. I should’ve radioed you but I’m alright, I-”, he cut you off with a self deprecating chuckle and propped himself up on his right arm, his left hand cradling your cheek carefully. “You don’t understand. You don’t get it, (Name). It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing me in the chest. Like someone had ripped my heart out of my body. You-you collapsed in my arms. How was I supposed to be okay after that? I couldn’t feel anything. My tongue felt like someone had poured cement on it. I didn’t-didn’t speak much to anyone for 3 days. I really thought I lost you. And if I would’ve lost you, I wouldn’t have any reason to stay alive.”

You laid there, your mind unable to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. Is this what you think it is?

“Manny, don’t be stupid. Don’t say such things-”

“No, listen to me. I was so scared. I am still scared. I can’t do this without you, angel-”

“You don’t mean that, Manny, stop it-”

“I mean it, fully. I’ve been wanting to tell you this since so long..”, he sucked in a shaky breath, “but everytime I bailed because I’m so scared.”

“What are you-”

“I love you.”

Your mouth fell open and the response died on your tongue. You tried to sit up and regretted that immediately because you pulled on your stitches and it resulted in you gasping in pain, your bandage turning bloody. You let out tiny whimpers and squeezed Manny’s bicep in support. This meant that Manny was officially in panic mode and immediately leaned away from you to make you comfortable.

“Fuck, I told you to be careful. Just lay back down, (Name)”, he groaned frustratingly. He gently laid you on your back and gave you a hand to hold. You firmly grasped his hand and intertwined your fingers with his while he slowly pulled up the hem of your top to check on the damage done. Luckily, it wasn’t that bad and you didn’t need a complete dressing change, his fingers delicately traced the bandage. “How bad does it hurt? I can get you some painkillers that I have stashed if you-”, you squeezed his hands to bring his attention back to you. “What did you just say, Manny? Do you mean it?”, you asked him hurriedly.

He stiffened for a moment before nodding his head yes.

“Oh my god”, you exclaimed in a shaky voice, your eyes welling up with tears. Manny shot his head up and fussed over you in concern. “What- what’s happening? Are you hurting? C‘mon we’ll go to the med-” “Shut up for sometime, will you?”

He looked at you in disbelief before shutting his mouth and stared at you intently. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he saw your eyes tear up. He raised a hand to wipe a lone tear that slipped out of your eyes. “I’ve been dying to hear that for the past 7 years, Manny”, you whispered to him, your heart pounding.

Manny’s eyes widened and he took a minute to compose himself before cupping both of your cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss them softly. Up close, you could see his beautiful moles and the tears shining in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me, angel?”, he murmured.

“I was so scared of losing you– that you’d think I’m weird for falling for you when we’re best friends. I’d get nightmares of you leaving me after I confessed to you, so I just ignored it and decided to act like nothing was happening when all I wanted to do was die everytime I found out you hooked up with others”, you confessed in a quiet voice. Manny turned red at that and averted his gaze in shame. You guys weren’t even together, so why did he feel like he had cheated on you?

“I-those were meaningless. They were simply Hook ups. Just that, I promise. All I wanted was to be with you every day, every second and if somebody tried to hurt you, I won’t hesitate to hurt them. I know that’s probably not normal, but that’s just who I am. And… that’s why I would execute the tasks that you couldn’t finish because I wanted to protect you. And if I have to do that by getting my own hands dirty, then so be it”, he confessed sincerely, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs and eyes darting across your face.

You were fully crying now, your eyes bloodshot, lips quivering, cheeks damp and your breathing laboured. You looked at him, your eyes swirling with emotions, and raised a hand to run through his curls.

“Stop crying, (Name), please, I can’t handle it”, he said in a desperate tone. “Kiss me”, you whispered. He looked at you for a second before resting a hand behind your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek and he leaned in to kissed you passionately, his nose smushed against your cheek.

And that was the best damn kiss you ever had in your life.

2023, Salt Lake City

You and Manny have been together for 8 years now and you’ve been stood by each other’s side like rocks. By now, the two of you and the others had joined the WLF to defend yourselves against FEDRA. Nobody could separate you two-Manny was notorious for his unwavering loyalty and he had saved you too many times for you to ever give up on him. No matter how difficult he got at times with his reckless behaviour, one word from you and he’d back off. People were also afraid of you two because of how well you worked with each other. Him with his shooting skills and you with your negotiation and strategic skills- the two of you were an unstoppable force.

These 8 years were nothing short of bliss for you. Manny was incredible as a partner-he was so loving, caring, loyal and respectful. Even in an apocalypse with limited resources, he’d do anything in his power to make you happy. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anybody hurt even a single strand of your hair, especially after that one time you returned from patrol with a stab wound so deep, it made you comatose for 3 days. He was the reason why you woke up in the morning and you made sure he knew that, protecting him just as fiercely. Something in you cracked every time you remembered the hardships he faced and how he stills maintains a positive outlook even in the worst of times so you became a soft place for him to land. Always loving on him, caring for him, protecting him. Just as he did for you.

Him on the other hand, he was always in awe of how much empathy you had in you even after all the shit you’ve been through. You were both older and mature now, yet you stayed grounded with your mission that you swore by when you were just 14–still looking out for the people who were in need, especially children, making sure you could save as many innocent lives as possible. It made Manny fall in love with you deeper but also scared him because of how different you were from him. He was aggressive and ruthless with his targets, on the other hand, you’d try to save every single one of them. But you would also do anything for Manny. If someone even tried to look at him wrong, you'd be their worst nightmare. Manny would be lying if he said he didn't love that. Seeing your usually composed and kind demeanor take on a deadly and fierce look was...hot. Still, he was convinced you’d leave him someday, tired of the constant bloodshed and his loyalty to the Fireflies. He did his best to let go of the dirty work for you, but then he’d get scared of someone harming you and the cycle would continue. The two of you were such opposites and yet, you loved every part of the other.

Little did the two of you know, your bubble would be burst soon. Manny got posted at St Mary’s Hospital in Salt Lake City along with Owen and Abby. This meant that Manny would be separated from you for a while. And he did not take well to that.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming with me?”, he seethed, his anger directed towards Isaac. You sighed and grasped his hands in yours to comfort him and ran your thumbs over the back of his hands. “Manny, you know how it is. I will be an extra baggage, I won’t-” “You’re not a fucking baggage, (Name)!”, he responded with exasperation.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down before speaking again, “I can’t do this without you, angel, I need you there with me. You know that”, he said it with such desperate intensity that you cupped his cheeks in your hands and stared directly into his eyes. You knew why Isaac didn’t choose you. The situation there must be dire enough that he wasn’t willing to take any risks, so he decided to send three of the strongest and sharpest fighters under him. You weren’t liking it in any way either, the thought of parting from Manny for a longer period making you feel nauseous, but you were in no position to question Isaac. He was your leader.

“Shh. It’s okay, I know. But, it’s probably for the best, baby. I don’t wanna be a distra-” “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you behind. You’re coming with us, that’s it”, he responded in a firm voice, his hands holding your elbows. You looked at him doubtfully. “Manny, what makes you think Isaac will listen to you?”

You felt his muscles twitch beneath your hands as he clenched his jaw. “I’ll figure somethin’ out. You’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you alone here.”

And he did convince Isaac. You didn’t wanna know how, but he did. He was determined like that, your Manny. So off you went to St. Mary’s with Manny, Abby and Owen.

At first, everything went as it did always– you guys got settled in, started mapping out trails, keeping a vigilant lookout for any raiders or infected and the usual patrols. Marlene was in charge of the hospital so she had a whole troop of soldiers with her, making you feel somewhat safer and this posting was also a personal one because Abby’s father, Jerry, worked as a doctor there. She was ecstatic to be reunited with her father again.

One day when you came back from patrol, the entire hospital was dead silent. As soon as you entered the building, there were bodies scattered everywhere, blood painting the walls and the floors.

“What the fuck?”, you muttered in disbelief. Either the hospital was raided by a large group or by a horde of infected. But upon closed inspection, you saw that a horde attack not the case. Abby, Owen and Manny followed close, their guns raised. Abby was on edge, worried about her father. “What the hell is this?”, her movements jumpy and her voice wavering.

You rolled a soldier on his back and noticed 2 gunshot wounds on his stomach. You checked the soldier lying a few feet away and he had a gunshot around his neck. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Guys, this is not a horde attack. They’ve got gunshot wounds.”

They checked the other soldiers and that confirmed it, it wasn’t a horde attack. “I need to find my dad. I’m going”, Abby conceded and tried to rush away to find Jerry. You stopped her by the arm. “Wait. I understand that you’re worried, but we don’t know if the hospital is empty. Let us scan the area first”, you tried to reason with her. She looked at you with a freaked out expression on her face. “Are you serious? I need to go find-” “Abs, hey, listen to them. They’re not wrong”, Manny tried placating her and came over to lay a hand on your back. Abby looked at you two and then Owen, him nodding his head at her and she reluctantly agreed.

The four of you spread out to scan the hospital. You and Manny scoured the upper floors while Owen and Abby took over the lower ones and the parking lot. “Careful, baby”, Manny murmured while covering you, his gun raised, eyes vigilant and footsteps careful. You nodded your head silently and focused on your surroundings, your heart pounding against your chest. The place was so eerily silent, you felt like every sound was a suspicious one. Both the floors were scattered with bodies with a puddle of blood around them, and you couldn't wrap your head around it. How big was this group of raiders that they took out an entire hospital? You cleared the 2 floors and reached the final one. No signs of life in any of the floors. You reached the final corridor and approached the operation theatre.

“Wait, let me go in first”, Manny whispered to you and gently pushed you behind him. You nodded and let him go ahead of you. Manny pushed the door open and froze. You tried to peak over his shoulder and before he could stop you, your eyes fell on the scene. There was a huge puddle of blood around a body. You raked your eyes across the person and noticed the headshot and brain matter around the body. And then you realised—

“Oh my god”, you gasped out and fisted Manny’s shirt in your hands. The body belonged to Jerry- Abby’s father. What the hell even happened here?

You could see Manny’s hands shaking from how tightly he was clenching them. His jaw was shut just as tightly, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “Manny…”, you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “What do we do? Oh god, she’s gonna-” “I know. I know”, he replied in a hoarse voice.

That’s when you heard a voice behind you- “Marlene is dead. Did you guys find my dad?” Abby. She must’ve noticed the way you two stiffened and immediately questioned you. “What is this? Did you guys find anything?”, she asked desperately. You turned your head to look at Manny with tearful eyes and he simply nodded his head at you, as if reassuring you that he’ll handle it.

And he did. And she was inconsolable. Which lead to her saying stuff that she would regret later, you thought. She vowed to finding whoever did this and to killing them. That she’d make them suffer so much, they’d beg her to kill them. You and Manny then found out that there were two nurses that were alive, they were hiding in the office and you brought them out in front of Abby. They told you who had done it–A single man. They said a single man killed 18 soldiers, Marlene and Jerry. Then they gave you his name- Joel, said he rescued the girl that Jerry was supposed to operate on. Before she could explain further, Abby abruptly cut them off. You gave her a look, something was odd. Because Abby never told you that her dad was performing surgery on some girl today.

The four of you immediately left the hospital and sought refuge in a nearby Fireflies shelter after burying Jerry's body. Abby, exhausted from what she had witnessed, promptly fell asleep before going on a vengeful rant. She kept saying the same things–that she’d find this Joel and kill him so ruthlessly that he will beg for mercy. You had so many questions because why would a single man go on a killing rampage over the surgery of a girl? And why did he kill Abby’s dad? What was she hiding? You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Manny sit next to you. He nudged you with his shoulder and leaned his head to look at you. “You there?”, his voice came out in a hushed whisper.

You snapped out of your daze and turned to look at him. “Yeah, just…it’s been a lot”, you sighed. His eyes shined with understanding and he brought you closer to him by your shoulders, you leaned your head against his throat and hugging him tightly around the waist. Manny leaned his head against the top of your head and breathed in deeply. After a moment of calm silence, you decided to finally ask him. “Em? Did you notice the way Abby cut off the nurses when they were talking about the surgery?”, you asked in a soft voice. His body stiffened next to you, eyes closed in worry. He was hoping you wouldn’t catch that. “…yeah. What about it?”

You pressed a kiss to his throat and rubbed his chest with your hand. “Just….it was weird, wasn’t it? Why wouldn’t she tell us that her dad was performing a surgery today?”. Manny swallowed and rubbed a hand across your back. “Maybe it’s nothing, angel. We’ll- we’ll ask her later, okay? For now, let's get some sleep”, he said before kissing your head. You reluctantly agreed and let him take you to bed.

A week later, all of you had gone to visit her father’s grave and she had told the entire group about what she heard about Joel from the nurses– tall, ruthless and handsome and you noticed she was obsessively fixated on the handsome part, something sinister about it and the way she talked about this kid that Joel was saving with an air of carelessness. They came up with a very stupid plan about going all the way to Jackson to kill this man and your stupid boyfriend readily agreed to it, blinded by revenge.

“I’m sorry, but you realise you’re being way too hasty about this, right? This man killed 20 people on his own. How are we gonna stand up to him? He's in Jackson and from what I heard, it's a legit town. He has backups, for sure", you directly looked at Abby while questioning her decision. Mel was the only one who seemed to be in agreement with you, Manny refused to meet your eyes and Nora, Owen and Abby looked at you incredulously. “I don’t fucking care. We will just have to”, Abby barked at you. You stumbled back in shock. Sure, she's brash but she’s never spoke to you so…authoritatively before.

Manny grimaced and held your hand in his. “Okay, let's just...calm down. We'll talk about this later, baby", he whispered the last part in your ear. You turned your head to look at him in disbelief. "Manny-" "Not now, please", he looked at you with desperate eyes and squeezed your hand gently. You pressed your lips into a thin line and looked away from him, removing your hand from his grasp and wrapping your arms across your torso. Manny's hand was left hovering in the air, his heart squeezing painfully at the obvious wall that you had built up between you and him. He tried to reach for you but you simply shrugged him off and walked away. He tried to follow you but Mel stopped him and told him to leave you alone for sometime. So he stood there, his hands clenched into a fist and trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.

After that upsetting conversation, you decided to go back to the shelter and try to get information from the nurses. You needed to know what happened before you could take the next steps. "Why was that man here? And why was the girl being operated on? Tell me everything", you demanded.

"She- Jerry was going to operate on her brain. Something about isolating the cordyceps from it", the nurse replied hesitantly. You scrunched your face in confusion, "Cordyceps? She was bitten? And Jerry wasn't a neurologist, right?"

The nurses looked at each other nervously and wringed their fingers together, "Um- no. Jerry wasn't a neurologist. And uh- she was bitten but..", the nurse trailed off nervously. "But what?", you spit out impatiently.

"She was immune. Got bit but didn't turn. Marlene thought we could operate on her and make a cure, but we aren't trained for brain surgery, neither did we have the equipment. Just as we prepared her for surgery, that man came into the OT and shot Jerry dead. Asked us to unhook the girl and spared us in return", the nurse finally confessed. Your face shifted into a million different emotions. Not only was Abby's dad illegally performing surgeries but there was a girl out there who was immune to the cordyceps? "What the fuck...wait. How old was this girl?", you asked in distress.

"Must be around 14, that's what Marlene told us."

You felt nauseous, "And...was he-Joel, was he her father?", your voice breaking off because of the lump in your throat.

The nurse shrugged, unsure, "Looked like it. Had a dissociated look in his eyes, like he was in a trance."

"Was the surgery gonna work? Would there be a cure?", you asked with desperation and annoyance coating your tone.

The nurses averted their gaze from you, their body language screaming guilt. "I asked you something, goddamnit, was it gonna work?", you yelled at them in anger and they flinched before shaking their head no.

You felt disgusted and betrayed. Not only was Abby's father was performing surgeries that he wasn't even trained for, but he was operating on a non-consenting minor and The Fireflies had taken her away from her father-figure against their will? And to make it worse-the cure still wouldn't work? Which meant that they were going to kill this girl? You wanted to throw up. You felt sick from the guilt and hypocrisy, feeling complicit in this little girl's mistreatment because you were working with the same organization that was treating her like a lab rat.

You left the room with your mind swirling in a million thoughts. Why would they do that? Why were they allowed to do that? Why was Abby acting like she didn't know anything and now she was trying to kill someone to avenge her fraud father? You needed to do something, you had to stop them but you couldn't do it alone and you couldn't ask for help to anyone. There was only one person that you could confide in and you hoped he wouldn't disappoint you.

Manny was getting antsy after not being around you for almost an hour now. He had no idea where you went, beating himself up over your disappearance. Just when he was about to set off to find you, you rushed into your shared room in the hideout, your body tense with distress and sorrow.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?", eyebrows furrowed deeply and hands reaching for you, Manny tried to calm you down and understand what happened for you to be so scared.

You gripped his biceps tightly in your hands, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Manny- she-", you closed your eyes in agony. Manny widened his eyes and tensed up, his heart beating faster, "Baby, you gotta tell me what's up. Who did this to you?"

You let out a small sob and ducked your head, his hand came up to cradle your cheek gently. Taking a deep breath in, you finally told him. "I talked to the nurses. Manny, he- Jerry was a fucking fraud. He-he was performing a brain surgery on the girl without her consent. Joel was her guardian..? I don't know, I don't know-but--Jerry was a fraud. She was only 14, Manny. They were going to kill her for a cure that was non-existent. And Abby knows this, she knows this. Yet, she wants to kill Joel. We're all complicit in this...we're- We need to stop her-", you abruptly stopped and finally focused on Manny. He was way too quiet for your liking. His jaw was clenched and he wouldn't look at you. Your heart fell down to your stomach as you realised.

"You- you knew this", you whispered in shock.

Manny closed his eyes in shame before opening them and tried to bring you closer. "Angel-" "Don't fucking touch me or call me that", you growled and pushed him away. His mouth was agape and eyes bloodshot. "You--oh my god. How long have you known this?", you questioned him in a sharp tone. Manny swallowed thickly and avoided your eyes. "Answer the fucking question, Manny", you scowled.

"Since that girl was brought here by Marlene", he confessed in a low voice, his body stiff and shoulders drawn in at your tone.

The pain in your chest increased ten fold at his admittance. You thought you could trust him, that he wouldn't hide anything from you. You were such a fool. You let out a sudden laugh and pinched your nose between your fingers. "Wow. I was so fucking stupid to even think you'd be on my side. Your ego and your loyalty to this fuckass organization is way more important to you than an innocent life. I should've known...", you broke off into another incredulous chuckle and Manny looked at you with worried eyes. "Angel, please. Listen to me, Joel was a bad man, why can't you see that? He's hurt Abby-"

"Fuck if I care! Her dad was doing illegal shit to a child. I think Joel's reaction is super fucking warranted, Manny. You tell me, if that was your dad being operated on or if it was you on that operation table? What would you do, huh? You think your dad would've allowed his son to die? You would've let your dad-"

"That's enough", Manny warned you, his voice hoarse.

"Why? That hurt, huh? Good. Have fun with your little plan of vengeance, I'm out of this", you scoffed and moved to pack your stuff.

Manny's eyes widened and he finally moved to grab you by your elbow and turned you to face him, his heart pounding at your actions and he stopped you with a wavering voice, "(Name), stop. We'll figure something out. You're not really leaving me, right-"

You snapped your head to look at him, your eyes shining with fury and betrayal, "What are we gonna figure out, hm? Are you going to leave them behind and join me?"

Manny quieted down and stared at you with tears in his eyes, his brain working overtime- stuck between following his love or supporting his friends. Looking at the hesitant look on his face, you scoffed and ripped your arm out of his grip.

"You're not even trying to deny it, Em", you cried out, Manny's stomach twisting in pain at the sound. "This was bound to happen. I was stupid and naive to think you'd ever stand by me."

Manny's face shifted in sorrow and a tear fell on his cheek, his breathing laboured as he slowly realised that this was final. "Wait, no. Don't say that, please. I love you, angel, please", he choked out and tried to reach for you. You stumbled back from him and let out a soft sob, your throat hurting from keeping it in.

"This was a mistake. We were never going to work out because of your...priorities. I knew this since the beginning but-", you sniffled and swallowed harshly against another sob building up your throat, "--but, I loved you so much that I was willing to ignore that. Thought, there's people doing worse out there. And now? you are one of the people who are doing worse", you blabbered in between sobs and sniffles.

At your use of "loved" and calling him one of the bad ones, Manny felt his heart stop. He just wanted to protect you and his friends. Joel had hurt Abby, and he'd do anything to help his friends out but, you weren't wrong either. You spoke the truth--Jerry was a fraud and all of you would have been complicit in that girl's possible murder. Then why did he find it so difficult to just let go and follow you? Were his egotistical and vengeful tendencies really more important than you? But, even with all these thoughts swirling his head, all he could fixate on was trying to stop you from leaving. Because if you left, then his recklessness would just get worse. He was not capable of handling such a heartbreak. His lips quivered and voice shook when he finally spoke, "No, no, no, baby. Please, don't say that, please. I can't do this without you--"

"You shouldn't have done this with me. What, you thought I'm so dumb that you'll bring me here and I'll stay in blissful ignorance? You thought I was that easy to fool?"

"No! please, it's not like that. I'm sorry, I should've told you-"

"The audacity to admit that you should've told me, when you brought me all the way here just to keep me in the dark...some fucking nerve you have, Alvarez", you spit at him, you felt your face warm with anger and your nostrils flared. Manny shut his eyes in pain, his chest constricting and making him choke on his breaths.

You took a deep breath in and wiped the tears on your face. "I'm leaving. If you wanna join me, you're free to do so. But if not...and if I reach Joel before you, I will make sure every single one of you is dead before you even think to hurt another family again", you threatened him in a scarily calm voice.

Manny's mouth opened and closed like a fish, "Wait, you're- no, you can't go alone. Don't do this-"

"Why? You think I can't do shit without you? You know, since the day I found out about Jackson, I'd been wishing for a time where you and I could spend the rest of our lives there? Peacefully?", you confessed. Manny froze. You had never shared this with him.

"What?", he whispered out loud.

You scoffed, "Yeah, I was so stupid. Thought we'd finally have a place that we could call our own, a community...", you trailed off, your voice losing its spark and hope. You rapidly blinked your eyes to get rid of the tears and you finally looked straight into his eyes. His face was scrunched in pain, warm tears wetting his cheeks and his hands were tightly clenched into fists. "Please, don't go..", he whispered desperately. Your heart ached at his state. You've never seen him like this but you couldn't live this life anymore. No matter how angry you were at him, you knew you would cry every night in his memory.

You finally went closer to him and he looked at you with hope in his eyes. You lifted a hand to cradle his cheek and wiped the tears on them with your thumb. "I'll be waiting for you", you whispered to him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his moustache tickling your lips. He tried to hold you closer before you moved away and packed your bags.

You packed your bag and turned to look at him, still frozen to his spot, for the last time with unshed tears. "Bye, Manny", you whispered and rushed out of the room, sneaking past everyone who was busy with cleaning their weapons or cooking a meal. You knew Manny would never snitch on you, which is why you ran away in front of him. You grabbed the reins on your horse and rode away, tears streaming down your face.

Back in the room, Manny stood still, his eyes shedding tears once again. His throat hurt from the lump lodged against it and he slowly approached the bed to sit on it. He didn't know what was he supposed to do anymore. He didn't have a reason to live. He doesn't know how will he cope with the fact that you'd never touch him or tell him sweet nothings or keep him updated about your whereabouts. All Manny could do, was wait. Wait until he crosses paths with you, and he'd beg on his knees for you to take him back and give you the domestic life that you deserved.

Until then, he'd fall asleep with your scarf around him every night and pray to whatever higher power that exists to keep you safe.

Part 2

AN: ahhhh I hope you all liked this! Part 2 will have all the juicy stuffff like reunions and killings hehe

#manny alvarez x reader #manny alvarez #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou2 #tlou season 2 #danny ramirez #fluff #angst #joel miller

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rosycheekeddawn · 4 months ago

Note

hiiiii could you do smth where the reader gets dropped into olympus some how and all the gods lowk get interested and decide to keep the little mortal

they end up all fighting over the mortals attention and assistance 🫣

maybe apollo hermes and poseidon (and zues obvi) try to woo and have the readers love the most 👀

Mortal Affections

A/N: This was such a cool request to get for my first one! I’ve decided to write it in headcanons for now, but it gave me a great idea for a series that I’ll get around to when I have some more time.

Hermes

Hermes is the first to sweep you off your feet… literally

He sees you sitting on a bench, most likely pondering your situation, and a mischievous grin lights up his face as he zooms over to you, grabs you by the wrists and hoists you into the air

When you realise your feet are no longer touching the ground, your first instinct is to thrash, flail and scream until you hear a smooth voice from above you

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there, beautiful,” he chuckles, letting go of your wrists and quickly catching you bridal-style in his arms. “You really think I’d drop you?” he teases. “I just had to get you out of there before Apollo or Poseidon got any ideas.”

He spends pretty much the whole flight complimenting you, saying how good you’d be together, and trash-talking his ‘competition’

He finally sets you down in what seems to be a massive orchard, filled with Greek strawberry trees; you turn to face him, and he’s holding up two baskets with a large smile

The next two hours are filled with laughter as he cracks joke after joke (again, most are at the expense of Poseidon and Apollo to try and put you off them) just to admire the unique way your laugh sounds and your smile looks, while you happily fill your basket with delicious fruit

He definitely insists on feeding you some if you’re not too uncomfortable with that

Apollo

He finds you after you’ve returned from Hermes’ strawberry field, and he knows he needs to do whatever he can to top that; he still considers Hermes one of his biggest rivals since the Cattle Incident

He walks over to you with his usual bright smile, the tiny scar on his lip that he got from his time as a mortal twitching slightly with the movement

“It is an honour to finally meet you in person, my dear,” he says, with a voice that sounds like a melody. “I was wondering if you might allow me to show you something?”

At your confirmation, he smiles again and loops his arm through yours as he leads you to a large marble building; when you walk inside, you’re met with the largest library you’ve ever seen

The walls are lined with bookshelves, each one filled to the brim with books and scrolls; in the gaps between the shelves are marvellous paintings and statues

“This library is my reprieve,” he explains to you. “As the god of knowledge, there’s little I enjoy more than a good read. Except, of course, spending time with you, my dear.”

Time with Apollo is much calmer than your time with Hermes; he allows you to pick whichever book or scroll you would like, and while you curl up on his most comfortable piece of furniture, he may feel compelled to create something

He’ll write a poem dedicated to your beauty and impressive focus, paint the scene in front of him with meticulous attention to detail, or even compose a new tune inspired by you

You both engage in some idle conversation; it isn’t non-stop like Hermes’ is, much more calm and relaxed, like you have all the time in the world

He may tell you some embarrassing stories about Hermes or Poseidon, but for the most part, he focuses on showing you he is the best rather than telling you

When you’re finished, he lets you keep the book you chose as a gift

Poseidon

He saw you go into Apollo’s library, and he’s been waiting impatiently ever since

He’s pacing in front of the building impatiently, wondering what could be taking you so long

When you emerge, he immediately stops his pacing and smiles at you, his sea glass eyes lighting up

“I was wondering what was taking you so long, sea star,” he says. “I thought for a moment my nephew had bored you to death. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

Unsurprisingly, Poseidon leads you to a beach, the waves crashing and overlapping in a surprisingly calming way

He sits on the sand and offers for you to do the same, which you do

“The sea here reflects my thoughts and emotions,” he explains as he looks out at the sea with a small, but genuine smile. “As such, I can manipulate however I want.”

Before you can ask what he means, the water in front of you swirls and rises, before it forms the shape of a small horse who immediately trots over to you

The laugh Poseidon lets out at your surprised face when the horse nuzzles your cheek and leaves a patch of wetness makes it seem like the ocean is laughing along with him

He creates some more water creatures, the original horse sitting by your side and whinnying as a trail of liquid sea creatures flies overhead, sprinkling the top of your head with water droplets

Unlike his nephews, Poseidon doesn’t really mention them at all; he’s older and more experienced than his nephews, and he knows he won’t get anywhere with trash talk

You two don’t talk a lot, but it doesn’t feel like you have to; the silence is comfortable, broken occasionally by laughter from the two of you

When the sun sets, the creatures dissolve into the water once more, and he pulls something else from it

It’s a sea glass mosaic of you, him, the water horse by your side and the sea creatures surrounding you in the shape of a heart

#greek mythology x reader #greek mythology x you #greek gods x reader #greek gods x you #hermes x reader #hermes x you #apollo x reader #apollo x you #poseidon x reader #poseidon x you

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4milly · 10 months ago

Text

thru’ ya nose. r.r +millytober+

parings: dom!roman reigns x sub!blackreader

warnings; throat fucking, tears, usage of pet names, near choking, cursing, (18+ MDNI)

“you okay?” he breathed out, pulling himself from your throat

not being able to speak in your current state you just nodded. tears and snot running down your face, and long spit strings still connecting your mouth to his dick. you let out a few coughs before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

you sat on the floor against the bed with your head positioned towards the celling, roman’s body drenched in sweat as he towered over you, his thickness swinging in your face coated in your wetness.

“you gotta breathe thru’ your nose baby, m’kay? that’s the only way it’ll work. you need to learn, princess.” he caressed your hair as he leaned down to wipe your tears from your cheeks. he knew you were still up in the air—wanting to try something knew, and eager to please him, you didn’t really anticipate how much further it could go.

he’d so badly been wanting to train you at swallowing his dick whole, but it was hard enough to wrap your fist around him, why would you think it’d be easy for it to fit inside your throat? you only wanted to make him proud.

as if reading your thoughts, “you know how proud i am of you, baby girl? hm? taking my dick so far like that, you wanna try again?”

“y—yea.” you hiccuped with a small smile to assure him

he raised back to his full height, staring down at you with hooded eyes. he licked his lips and wrapped his massive hand around himself, yanking on the fat head a few times before pushing back between your swollen lips into your warm mouth.

“s—shit,” he choked out “breathe thru’ your nose, relax your throat.”

he placed a hand on the back of his hip to push himself further into your mouth, right into your throat. your throat immediately reacted at the tight fit, tears clouding your vision again. roman made sure to leave a small space, right before your nose would press against his well shaved area, for you to breathe.

you took a regulated breathe through your nose and coached your body to relax. your eyes traveled up your mans body; his defined stomach and chest, to his face. he stared down at you with a parted mouth pushing out harsh breaths.

roman was losing his fuckin mind; yea, your pussy was always tight and wet, but nothing could compare to the feel of your tongue pressed firmly against his dick as your mouth expanded pass limits to take him.

he sucked in a breath before slowly moving his hips back and forth. the ridge of the fat mushroomed tip moving deeper into your throat, creating repeated choking noises. roman pushed his hips down into your nose, his dick now lodged in the middle of your throat.

your legs thrashed around at the intrusion. you closed your eyes and focused hard to not choke around him.

“shit, princess! you look so fuckin’ pretty like this. my dick inside your mouth. i love this shit, wish i could take a picture.”

he started bucking his hips in and out your mouth again, before you reached up to hold onto his hips, “no, no, no, no hands, baby. you’re okay, baby girl. you can take it. don’t ever doubt yourself, mmhm?”

your hands fell back to the floor. you braced yourself before starting to slurp his dick up. you wanted to feel his cum in your tongue, and asap. you hallowed your jaw before moving further to press his dick back into your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks.

his breathing speeded up rapidly; he was about to shoot up right into your mouth. he placed his hands on your cheek, stilling your head, as his dick harshly drove into your mouth. you nails digging into your thighs, to prevent your hands from pushing against him to pullout.

you wanted to show him you could do this. and you could.

“i’m about to cum right in this mouth, baby. you want my cum right in that throat? shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty baby. mouth just full of my dick.”

his eyes squeezed shut, the feeling of your throat contracting around his dick, attempting to push it out, took him damn near to heaven. his toes even started to cramp as they repeatedly popped, his stomach beginning to tighten up. your gagging and choking became more intense and louder. your spit beginning to pool at the corners of your mouth and legs thrashing around.

with a few more pumps, he roared towards the celling as his cum jetted out into your mouth. he continued to move in and out making sure he emptied himself completely, before pulling out. you took in a deep breath, trying to drag back the air that you lost. he reached over to grab the warm towel he laid on the dresser earlier, and reached down to wipe your face clean. he placed small kisses all over your face as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

“you did perfect, baby girl. i’m so proud of you. yea? you made me feel so damn good, princess.” he whispered pressing soft kisses on your cheeks.

ᰔᩚ:@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine

@angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23

@empressdede @trentybenty @shes2real

be sure to reblog, comment, and follow!

to be added to the tag list , leave a comment.

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns #roman empire #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #wwe one shot #roman reigns head cannon #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns angst #roman reigns masterlist #roman reigns headcanons #roman reigns headcanon #millytober24

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lostinlovingrevery · 3 months ago

Note

Old man Logan where reader asks for permission for everything she does “can I touch myself?” While giving him head, for example

Permissions

Old man Logan X F! Reader

May I?

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! so I hope you enjoy this!!!!! Def need old man logan being the boss of me...like. bad

Warning: SMUT <3, handjob/blowjob, f! masturbation, is this consider dom/sub? kinda orgasm denial/edging, uuuuh...not proofread....

He never had control over his life.

The beginning, to now. He was hurtling through chaos. Trapped in a vicious tornado that was life, barely able to grasp onto something long enough to keep him steady before the harsh winds pulled it away leaving him thrashing and fighting again.

After a century, he learned to live with it. Even grew to love the chaos at one point- he felt that he couldn't live without it, that it was meant for someone like him.

Even the points of his life where he may have appeared domestic, settled, hell- maybe living in something that was similar to peace; like with the X-men, was still a whirlwind for him. Every day was something new. Never a moment to breathe, a constant cycle of violence- but once again, he knew how to live with it. Never calling it quits, never waving that white flag, he pushes himself off the ground, spitting out blood and pus. That all you got, bub?

Now though, maybe he'd settle for a break.

His age was finally catching up to him, and then some.

It only meant more chaos. The adamantium that was melded to his bones, oh....40,50 years ago, was now wreaking havoc on his body. Causing him issues left and right, delayed healing factor, an annoying limp in his hip from when it rains- fuck he really was old- a hacking cough that made him feel like he was going to lose a lung.

It made him tired. Made him ready to throw in the towel.

Least, till you showed up.

The port in the storm. The first time he ever stopped- and took in the moment to breathe- to pause the cycle.

Sweet, pretty, eager thing you were. You looked at him like something desirable. Like he was the port in your storm. You looked up to him, trusted him.

You wanted nothing more than to please him.

He liked seeing you on your knees before him. The way you squirmed in subtle manners, pressing your thighs together, your hands clenching in frustration.

He could smell your arousal the second he walked in the door - you'd been eager for him to come home. Greeting him happily, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips- only for him to draw it out and make you more needy; then pull away as he walks over to the couch and plopping down with a dramatic sigh as the springs creaked from his weight. Acting as if you weren't standing there, full of hormones, the sweet scent of your longing for him filling the room and making his head cloudy.

It'd been a long day, no more different than every day though. Chauffeuring around assholes, parties and groups, all too drunk to even walk straight, too drunk to give decent tips either. Chaotic bunches. People he can't get to settle down as they yell and laugh, blaring music on their phones because he refuses to turn up the radio.

It's instinct for you at this point. You knew what he needed- to feel just even a grasp of control. It's what you needed too. Similar to Logan- you've lived a life of chaos, maybe not quite as...intense as Logan's was, but still there. Except for you, you wanted someone to take the reins. Someone to just...Take control. To feel like you'll be safe, taken care of- not having to worry about a thing. To be able to shut off your brain.

You liked giving in- letting him decide what to do. He gets his control, you get your comfort.

You followed him, while he pretended to be busy with getting comfortable- looking at him pleadingly. It's been a long day for you as well- and you wanted nothing more than to just...mindlessly suck him off.

"Lo?" You called his name and he finally looked at you. Biting your bottom lip, you scooted closer. "How was your day?"

"Usual." He says, eyeing you. "Yours, darling?" He reached over, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"Okay." You shrugged. Butterflies filled your stomach- even though you've been with Logan for a good amount of time now- he still makes you nervous. "Um..." You looked away shyly. "May I..." Your hand reached over to his thigh, fingers gently tracing downwards towards his zipper. "Play with you, for a bit?"

He smirked. "Well, ain't you polite?" He coos. He grabbed your hand, removing off him. "Don't recall you asking to touch first, though."

You frowned, a small pout on your lips.

"Don't give me that." He says.

"Sorry..."

He raised a brow and waited for you to continue. You looked back up at him. "May I touch you?"

"On your knees first darling."

You smiled, setting off the couch and moving to your knees between this spread legs. You looked up at him- giving him those doe- eyes you know he can't resist.

You waited for him to give you permission.

"Go on." He nods. "Take me out."

Your hands palmed his knees first, sliding up his thighs sensually until you reached his zipper. Slowly tugging it down, and undoing the button, you began to tug his pants down just enough to reach in and pull him out.

Only semi-erect, you spit in your hand, and grasped his base and looked up at him.

"Go ahead." He nods.

You started slow, beginning to pump your hand up and down his thick girth. Your spit being used as a lube- you watched his cock twitch in your hand as you reached to the base, before moving back up and fisting over his swollen head.

You felt your mouth watering as pre-cum beaded his tip. Your lips parted, unconsciously licking your lips as you became hypnotized with his cock as you stroked him.

He watched you with amusement- he loved watching you. The way you look at him like he's something...beautiful. He never thought he'd meet someone that would share that same passion he always wanted to share.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He could feel your desire, your lust- he knew what you were going to say.

"May I taste you?"

He let out a breath. "Go ahead sugar."

With his permission, you leaned forward- sticking your tongue out and dipping it into the slit of his cock. His heady taste, salty and warm- made your eyes roll back and a soft moan escape you. You gripped the base of him, lowering your tongue down and licking him from the bottom to the top like an ice cream cone.

His cock jumped in your hand at the action. You could hear his breathing pick up- heavy, attempting to keep himself together.

You continued licking him like he was a delicate treat, savoring the flavor of his skin and sweat as you stroked him simultaneously. Logan's head tipped back, feeling himself get closer and closer to a finish- but he wasn't ready for that yet.

"Slow down. It's not going anywhere." He tells you. It made you whine- You didn't want to slow down, you wanted to take him whole, down your throat, to have your tongue covered with his essence- something you would end up tasting for the rest of the night into the next day.

Yet you still obeyed. Your hand slowed, and you gave him small kitten licks instead.

Your thighs pressed together, an attempt to relieve the ache that was between your legs. Your panties were drenched from your arousal- a throbbing ache in your clit that you need relief from.

You adjusted yourself on your knees, spreading them apart so you could pressed yourself onto the floor- the pressure relieving some of the tension you felt down there.

Continuing to stroke him, you watched pre-cum continuously bead out of him, and you chewed on your inner cheek- resisting the urge to lap him up.

"Lo-" Your voice tittered on a whine. "I want- Can I suck you off?"

A small laugh escaped him- making you frown. You're not sure what's so funny about that.

"I look that good huh sweetheart?"

"Mmhm." You nodded.

"Go ahead." He purrs, his hand reached over to curl into your hair and pull you closer.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around him. Taking him deeper, you hollowed your cheeks, gagging slowly as he began to hit your throat- but you didn't stop.

Your tongue caressed the underside of his cock while your lips were flushed against his base and his salt-and-pepper hair that curled around his base tickled your nose.

A grunt escaped him, feeling you gag as your throat closed around the head of his cock- his hand tugged you back, pulling you off him completely until your mouth as hanging open, a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

"Fucking beautiful..." He mutters, before pulling you back down on him. You moaned, your eyes rolled back as you bobbed your head up and down his length, his hand that has ahold of you setting the pace.

You were unconsciously grinding against the floor- desperate for relief as you got him him. You took him down your throat again, choking on him and tears began to spill over your eyes from the pressure. You pulled yourself off of him and looking up at him pleadingly.

"Can I touch myself?" You asked breathlessly. Spit dribbling down your chin, your lips puffy and swollen.

He was half tempted to tell you no. To see you whine and squirm and beg- but you've been good.

"Do it baby." He says, his hand curling tighter into your hair. "Touch yourself for me."

You took his cock back into your mouth- as your hand climbed underneath the waist of your pants. Your fingers found your swollen clit- a soft whine escaping you as your fingers swirled fast and rough circles into your bud.

As much as he preferred to get you off himself- watching you do it while sucking him off? That was a different kind of power for him.

"Slow down." He orders. "Don't need to get yourself off so quickly darling. Enjoy it."

You whined with his cock in your mouth, and he tugged your hair hard. "Save it, or I'm telling you to stop."

You held back a cry- obliging as you slowed the pacing of your fingers, still working on sucking and savoring him.

A few minutes past- your orgasm never came- because Logan kept telling you to go faster, then slower- while controlling the pace of you sucking him off. It was almost scary how he knew how close you were to cumming every time- even when you tried to hide it. Afraid to ask him only to be denied again.

"Lo- Please." You gasped as you pulled off his cock. "May I cum? Please?"

He smirked, pushing you back down on him, all the way until his tip hit your throat again - your gag reflex was gone at this point.

"Go ahead darling-" He says, "Use both hands too."

A moan of relief escaped you. Your fingers worked tirelessly over your clit, as your free hand shoved your pants down your thighs so you could fit your other hand to your weeping hole.

Your cunt clenched around your fingers tight, as you began pumping them in and out of you. Moaning over his cock- Logans grip on you pulled you back and forth on his cock- allowing you to focus on getting yourself off while he fucked your mouth.

A cry escaped you as you came, your body trembling as you drenched your fingers with your arousal- pleasure racking through your body in waves.

Logan shoved his cock down your throat- a loud grunt escaping him as he spilled himself in ropes and coating your throat.

He pulled you off him, loud breathy pants escaping him as he tipped his head back. You stood up on shaky legs, and clambered onto his lap.

"Can I kiss you?" You asks, and he opened his eyes to look at you. Sweaty, spit and cum covered your lips and tears stained your cheeks. His hand reached to the back of your neck, pulling you closer,

"That's the one thing you don't have to ask for darling."

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #vans daydreams #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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crueltyserpent · 3 months ago

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Oh, you don't know what you've been in line for? You know at the mall, you see those booths where a woman is drowning but you can only see her tits thrashing around? Most people don't pay them much attention, like most decorations at the mall. But the girls need to come from somewhere. You signed up for the free version of our streaming service, which means you got entered in the lottery to be chosen. Now i just need to check if you're qualified. Lift up your shirt, will you? Oh, the corpses on the floor? Well, for logistics reasons, it's easier on us if everyone who shows up to this stage dies, so if you don't qualify to drown in public for any reason I'm going to put this bolt gun to your forhead and put you down. Hmm, your tits are right on the boundary I think. I'm going to need to get out the tape measurer.

You'll suck my dick if I let you live? Well he'res the funny thing. After the bitches- I mean girls, drown, I get to look over their corpses before they go in the trash compactor. And like, nobody really cares if I have a little fun with them right? So it ends up, I just can't get it up for a girl with a pulse anymore. I know, it's funny right, nearly every girl I see tries to buy me off with her body. I'll admit when I started, I did take advantage; though I killed them anyway. Anyway you can still survive? Well, I could put you aside for my bosses personal use. But she's, well... that's worse for you. I've never had a meeting with you where one of her toys wasn't begging for the release of death.

Okay, your heart rate checks out. Yeah, it's inneffecient if you drown too fast, so we make sure we get girls who will last. I think you qualify. I'll put you in for the One'O'clock drownings. Oh, I'm supposed to ask you if you want footage of your death sent to anyone. Friends, family, anyone you think might want to see your tits bouncing in your final moments. Your girlfriend? Sure, just put down her email adress. Alright, just walk through there, head to processing. It'll be a few hours before it's your turn. My advice? Keep quiet. Amanda runs processing and she prefers the loud ones.

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blackpantherismyish · 3 days ago

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Patience 🍃

Modern!au Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie Moore

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors Note: So everybody wanted to see Annie get yolked up so I decided to deliver. She was really trying to get belt to ass playing with her man like that. 🤭 but it’s sooo fun. Poor Annie though. Sweetheart was not on the planet, okay. Also I’m editing this fresh after getting off of work so if there are any typos, forgive me. But enjoy ya freaky frogs.. Ciao.

If you haven’t already, please go read Foreplay 💰 so you’ll know how our favorite couple got to where they are now. It’s been a ride so far.

Smoke doesn’t rush.

He watches her.

Annie’s standing in the center of the bedroom now. Barefoot, dress still on, face flushed from the ride home, from what she sent him, from what she knows is coming.

Smoke’s behind her, shirtless, shorts low on his hips, quiet as ever.

She doesn’t dare move until he says.

He circles once. Slow.

Like a jaguar watching something that already knows it’s been caught.

Then, soft and low:

“Take it off.”

Annie reaches for the zipper on her dress, but her hands are shaking.

“Slower,” he murmurs.

She obeys.

The fabric slips from her shoulders, pools at her feet. No bra. No panties. Just her, bare and ready.

“Good girl.”

He steps closer, one hand brushing her lower back, then down to her ass.

“Thought you were real slick tonight,” he says, dragging a finger down the crease where her thigh meets her center. “Flashin’ all this. Gettin’ all handsy with Maya in that booth. Lettin’ me watch.”

“I wanted you to—”

“Did I ask you to speak yet?”

Annie’s breath stutters. She shakes her head.

“No sir...”

He hums in approval, steps around in front of her.

“I don’t need your words right now. I need your body to listen.”

He walks her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Lie down. Face up. Legs open.”

She does it without hesitation, heart pounding. Heat already dripping between her thighs.

Smoke steps between her legs, dragging two fingers through her slick folds. Then brings them up, glistening, and presses them to her lips.

She parts them. Tastes herself. Moans.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s mine. Don’t forget it.”

He kneels between her thighs and stares. Like he’s studying the mess she’s made for him. Then slowly leans in.

But he doesn’t lick.

Not yet.

He just breathes her in.

Annie whimpers, hips bucking slightly.

Smoke’s hands grip her thighs, pushing them wider, holding her still.

“You gon’ be patient tonight,” he murmurs, voice like velvet dragging across bare skin. “You made me wait. Now it’s your turn.”

She nods as she whispers, “Yes, daddy.”

He grins. “That’s better.”

And then, he devours like a starving mam seeing his first meal in months.

No teasing. No warm-up.

Smoke dives in like he’s claiming territory. His tongue flat and firm, dragging through her folds with practiced precision. His mouth latches onto her clit, tongue working tight circles that make her back arch and her hands fist the sheets.

Annie bites her lip to stay quiet. Smoke doesn’t want her quiet.

He groans against her, lips never leaving her, the vibration punching straight through her core.

Her moan breaks loose and he smirks into her.

“Louder,” he growls between strokes. “Let them neighbors know who gonna always have you like this.”

Annie cries out, head thrashing side to side.

Smoke slides two fingers inside her while his tongue continues its sinful rhythm. He knows her body. Knows exactly how to curl his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes her legs shake uncontrollably.

“You feel that?” he murmurs against her. “That pressure right there?”

Annie nods frantically, mouth open, no words coming out.

“Hold it.”

She whines.

“I said hold it,” he repeats, fingers thrusting deeper.

Her body is a thunderstorm beneath him. Her hips twitching, muscles tight, breath caught.

“Don’t you cum until I say,” he commands again, voice sharp now. “You wanna show off? Now you learn control.”

Annie claws the sheets, sobbing through gritted teeth.

“Smoke—please—”

“Not yet.”

He licks her slower now, painfully controlled. Every movement precise. Every swirl of his tongue a threat and a promise.

Her body trembles, her thighs trying to close, but he holds them apart with one arm.

When he finally lifts his head, she’s shaking, soaked, face glazed with desperation.

“Look at me,” he says, voice low.

She meets his eyes. Barely.

“Now.”

He doesn’t even have to finish the sentence.

Her climax explodes out of her like she’s been caged and finally freed. Her back bows off the mattress, a strangled cry ripping from her throat as her entire body pulses under his grip.

Smoke watches her fall apart.

Calm. Focused.

Until she collapses back into the bed, breathless, dazed, wrecked.

He licks his lips, grazing his fingers through his goatee, still watching her twitch.

Then he climbs up the bed slowly, like he’s not done.

Because he’s not.

“Flip over.”

Annie blinks, still gasping. “I—I just—”

“You think I give a fuck?”

He grabs her hip and turns her over himself.

“This was punishment. Now I’m gonna make you cum again,” he whispers, thick length pressed against her from behind, already dragging across her soaked entrance. “But this time… you don’t get to ask. You just take it.”

Annie’s body is still shaking when he flips her.

Face down, cheek pressed to the cool sheets, her knees barely hold her up. She tries to breathe. To come back to herself. But Smoke doesn’t give her the space to recover, not yet.

He looms behind her, big and quiet, dragging the pulsing head of his dick through her slick folds with unhurried precision.

“You still twitchin’,” he mutters, voice rough. “Still clenchin’ like you ain’t had enough.”

She whimpers, eyes fluttering closed.

He leans over her back, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“That’s alright,” he murmurs, slow and steady. “I got you.”

And right then, he pushes in.

One hard stroke. No warning. No mercy. The force of it drives a sound from Annie’s throat that’s somewhere between a gasp and a sob. Her fingers claw the sheets, spine arching, mouth open.

“Yeah,” Smoke growls, thick and deep inside her. “You feel that?”

She can’t speak. She just nods, her hips rolling instinctively back into him.

“Nah,” he says, gripping her waist tighter. “Keep that ass right here. You move without my say, I’ll stop.”

Annie holds still. Breath caught. Dripping around him.

He slides back then thrusts again, slower this time. More determined.

“Had me sittin’ in this house all night,” he mutters against her shoulder, his hips slapping against her ass. “Watchin’ you on my screen. Seein’ you put on that little show. Gettin’ my dick hard then skinnin’ and grinnin’ like you innocent.”

He drives into her again, deeper now.

“You knew what the fuck you was doin’.”

Annie’s voice breaks. “I—I wanted to make you want me.”

Smoke groans.

“I always want you,” he snaps, hand tangling in her hair. “That’s the fuckin’ problem.”

He tugs her head back just enough to lean down to her ear, his body plastered to her back, chest hot and sticky against her spine.

“From the second I wake up to the second you fall asleep talkin’ shit about how hot I get… I want you. Always.”

His voice lowers into a whisper. Smoky. Filthy. Possessive.

“And when you come home smellin’ like sweat, tequila and trouble… I wanna ruin you.”

He starts to move faster, harder. Each stroke punches a soft cry from her lips. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, rhythmic and raw. His hand snakes around her hip to find her clit, rubbing tight circles in sync with his thrusts. Annie’s gone. Completely undone.

She’s moaning now, helpless, high, and frantic.

“Papa—”

“You close?” he asks darkly.

“Y-yes—”

He pauses, still buried deep, his hand gripping her jaw.

“You think I should let you cum again?”

Her whole body trembles. “Please.”

“Why?”

“Because I—I need it. I need you.”

Smoke groans again, hips twitching.

“You always need me when you cryin’,” he growls. “Never when you runnin’ that mouth.”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” she whimpers.

“You already mine,” he hisses, thrusting back in. “Ain’t bout bein’ good. It’s about deservin’ it.”

And she does. She deserves all of him.

So he gives it.

He fucks her like the door’s locked, like the world’s gone quiet, like she’s the only thing in existence that can calm the fire building under his skin. His strokes are brutal, deep, controlled chaos, like he’s working something out between every breath.

Annie sobs into the sheets, voice wrecked, body arching into him with every thrust.

“Go ahead,” Smoke finally whispers. “Cum for me. Now.”

Her orgasm hits like a goddamn earthquake.

She seizes under him, body clamping around him, clit throbbing in his palm. Her scream is high and raw and real, like she doesn’t know whether to cry or come apart completely.

Smoke bites back a curse, holding her still as he rides it out with her, watching her break, and absolutely loving every second.

And when her body stops shaking, when she collapses onto the mattress, limp and spent…

He lets go.

He groans low, spilling inside her, hips jerking, jaw clenched. One long, guttural sound leaves his throat as he empties himself into her. Finally, after hours of waiting, of wanting, of watching her drive him crazy from a distance.

Annie’s now flat on her back, boneless, gasping for air, her thighs twitching with aftershocks and overstimulation. She tries to move, to crawl up the bed and hide her face but Smoke is already repositioning himself between her thighs. .

His chest brushes hers as he leans down, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her thigh and yanking it up around his waist.

She blinks up at him, still dazed. “Elijah—wait—”

“You think I was done?” he murmurs, dragging his throbbing shaft through her slick folds. “Nah, baby. I told you I was just gettin’ started.”

He doesn’t tease this time. Doesn’t wait for a full sentence.

He presses inside her with one slow, thick thrust. Burying himself deep, stretching her all over again. Annie cries out, hands flying up to clutch his shoulders as her back arches.

“God—”

“Yeah,” he growls, already rolling his hips deep and steady. “Feel that. All the way up, huh?”

She moans loud and open, her mouth falling slack.

“You wet like you really wanted this second one,” he says, watching her face twist with every stroke. “You needed me to fuck it into you.”

She nods, gasping.

“That’s what I thought.”

Smoke sets the rhythm. Slow, devastating thrusts that knock the breath out of her. His thumb drags tight circles over her clit again, even as her body tries to curl away from the overstimulation.

“Nah,” he warns, gripping her jaw. “You stay right here.”

His voice is low and filthy, all command, all heat.

“You wanted to show out for me. Now you take all this. You hear me?”

“Yes,” she pants. “Yes, Papa—please—”

He leans down, lips ghosting across her ear.

“You so fuckin’ soft right now. You open and messy and mine.”

His pace builds, deep and rhythmic, dragging moans from her throat until she’s nearly sobbing beneath him.

“You gonna give me another one?” he asks, teeth grazing her jaw. “Gon’ cry for me again, huh?”

Her legs wrap tighter around his waist, her fingers clawing down his back.

“Please,” she chokes. “Don’t stop. Please don’t—”

“Then take it.”

And she does.

She breaks for him again. Way quicker this time, like her body was just waiting for permission. Her climax rips through her in a cry so raw it makes his hips stutter.

“Fuck,” he growls, watching her fall apart. “That’s it. Let me feel it.”

He follows behind her, groaning low as he spills inside her again, holding her tight. Both of them clinging to each other like the only thing real in the room is this.

For a while, there’s nothing but the hum of the ceiling fan and the sound of two people completely fucked out.

Annie shifts slightly, and Smoke feels her smile.

“…You mad I let Maya kiss me?” she mumbles, voice hoarse and sleepy.

Smoke kisses the back of her shoulder.

“I’m mad you stopped there.”

She laughs. A low, throaty sound that makes his grip tighten on her waist.

“You’re disgustin’.”

“I’m yours,” he murmurs. “So yeah… I am.”

Gazing down at her, he takes in her body. The way the lights bounce off of her chocolate skin, a slight sheen of sweat reflecting under its light.

Smoke doesn’t ask, he just moves.

One arm sweeps under Annie’s knees, the other around her back, lifting her from the bed like she weighs nothing at all. She makes a soft, whimpering sound against his chest, still tender from everything he just pulled out of her. Her arms wrap lazily around his neck, her body limp but trusting, carried like something sacred.

“I can walk,” she mumbles sleepily.

“No you can’t,” he mutters back, his lips brushing her temple. “And I don’t remember askin’ if you could either.”

She doesn’t argue.

He carries Annie into their ensuite bathroom with quiet care, his arms wrapped securely around her as if she’s the most fragile thing he’s ever held. The soft hum of the overhead light blends with the gentle rush of water as he reaches over to turn on the faucet, letting the tub begin to fill with warm water. He doesn’t set her down just yet. Instead, he leans back against the cool marble of the vanity, keeping her tucked into his chest, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head.

Steam slowly begins to rise, curling in the air around them as the warmth builds. One hand cradles her lower back while the other moves soothingly along her spine, his touch calm and protective.

He rocks her slightly, not speaking. Just holding her there in the quiet intimacy of their shared space, letting the weight of the day melt away while the water climbs higher. The scent of her skin, the steady rhythm of her breath against him, the comfort of her in his arms. It’s all he needs in that moment.

He lowers her slowly into the bath, the heat wrapping around her like a balm. She gasps softly, hips flinching as the water soothes over sore muscles, between tender thighs.

Her head falls back.

Smoke kneels beside the tub, draping a plush towel over the edge before reaching for the washcloth and the amber glass bottle of her homemade body wash. He pours a small amount onto the cloth, working it into a soft lather between his fingers before leaning in.

“You really gonna wash me like this?” she teases, her voice lazy and sweet, eyes barely open as the steam curls around them.

“I do everything slow when it comes to you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “Even when I’m rough, it’s with intention.”

He begins at her shoulders, the warm cloth gliding over her skin in slow, unhurried circles. Down her arms, across her collarbone, over the swell of her chest. His touch is deliberate, focused. He handles her like she’s something rare, fragile even. Every pass of the cloth is firm with care, like he’s memorizing her piece by piece.

“You love makin’ me cry, huh?” she murmurs, eyes fluttering closed.

“Only when it’s that good-cry,” he mutters. “That full-body, can’t-speak, brain-gone cry.”

He rinses her carefully, one hand guiding warm water down her stomach while the other strokes lazy circles over her thigh.

Annie leans her head back again, her cheek resting on his forearm, lips parted in something between bliss and gratitude.

“You love spoilin’ me too,” she says.

“You earned it.”

“Twice??”

He smirks. “Technically, three times.”

“Don’t flex.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

They sit like that for a few quiet seconds. The only sounds are water lapping softly and the gentle exhale of her breath.

But Smoke’s voice cuts through again, softer this time, with that low rumble she feels more than hears:

“You drove me crazy tonight.”

“Mmm,” she hums. “Worth it.”

“You flashin’ me. Tonguin’ down your future sister in law like I wasn’t going to be on you like white on rice.”

Her laugh is lazy, warm. “You liked it.”

“I liked it too much,” he growls softly, brushing his knuckles up her thigh.

He leans close again, breath warm against her ear.

“Next time you feel like showin’ out like that?” he whispers. “You do it in front of me.”

Her breath catches. “Elijah—”

“I wanna watch her unravel when you touch her. Wanna see you melt and try to hide it, and then make you finish in my hands.”

Annie groans under her breath.

“You a menace,” she murmurs.

“You started it.”

She smiles, relaxing even deeper, her body slipping low in the water now, boneless and blissed.

After a while, her fingers trail up to rest lightly over his, her thumb brushing slow circles on his knuckle.

“You always take care of me in the best way..”

Smoke kisses the side of her face, just below her eye.

“‘Cause you mine.”

That’s it. The whole reason. The whole gospel.

And Annie feels it in her bones, in her blood, in every quiet way he touches her now.. This is about keeping.

“You gonna carry me to bed too?” she whispers.

“I definitely planned on it.”

“You gon’ let me sleep this time?”

He chuckles under his breath.

“You got about an hour ‘fore I wake you up again.”

She smacks his thigh playfully, but her eyes are already fluttering shut.

“Better make it worth it.”

He leans in, mouth brushing her damp shoulder.

“I always do.”

It’s late afternoon by the time Annie wakes back up.

Sunlight stretches long across the living room, dust particles floating lazy in the air. The soft clicking of buttons comes from the TV, the low background sounds of animated trash talk between players on the screen. And beneath her cheek is warmth, solid, steady warmth that rises and falls in a rhythm she knows by heart.

Smoke’s lap.

She shifts slightly, groaning into the soft fabric of his shorts.

His hand’s already there, palm sliding slow down her back, fingers slipping under the hem of the T-shirt she probably wasn’t wearing when she fell asleep.

“‘Bout time you joined the living,” Smoke murmurs, voice thick and smooth, like he hadn’t spoken in a while.

Annie hums, eyes still half-shut. “Mmm… what time is it?”

Stack laughs from the other couch. “Time for round two, if you ask Maya.”

Annie peeks up groggily. Across the room, Stack’s reclined, controller in hand, with Maya draped across his chest. Her thigh slung over his waist, her cheek against his collarbone like she owns him.

Which, honestly… she does.

Annie blinks. “Wait… when did y’all get here?”

Smoke doesn’t even look up from the screen. “Shortly after I brought you downstairs.”

Her brow furrows. “…You brought me downstairs?”

He grins, finally glancing down at her. “You was half dead, baby. Whisperin’ nonsense and out cold before your head hit the pillow. I had to carry you.”

“I don’t remember that at all.”

“You don’t gotta. I do.”

Annie groans and drops her head back down onto his lap.

Stack snickers. “Damn, she let you manhandle her like that?”

Smoke shrugs, still stroking her lower back. “She didn’t complain. Might’ve drooled on me a little.”

Annie slaps his thigh weakly. “Shut up.”

“I wiped it. You welcome.”

Across the way, Maya stirs and lifts her head, eyes still hazy from her own deep rest.

“She sent that video of us kissin’, and I swear Stack drove like he was racin’ death,” she mumbles sleepily.

“I wasn’t about to let Smoke beat me to the finish line,” Stack mutters. “That kiss was a goddamn firestarter.”

“Both of y’all,” Smoke cuts in, “really showed y’all ass last night. Literally.”

Maya just grins. “We were bein’ festive.”

“You were bein’ bait.” Stack glances at her sideways. “Successful bait, but still.”

Smoke chuckles, gaze flicking down at Annie again.

“She started actin’ like she was real big and bad… until she wasn’t.”

Annie sighs dramatically. “I was already in a weakened state.”

“From all that showin’ out?” he lifts a brow. “Mmhm.”

“You liked it,” she mutters.

Smoke leans down and kisses her hair. “I loved it.”

Stack stretches his long legs out, hand lazily tracing over Maya’s thigh. “Y’all was wylin’. All that teasing just to come home and get folded.”

Maya snorts. “Like y’all ain’t enjoy folding us.”

“That’s beside the point,” Smoke mutters, smirking. “Still had to remind her who she belonged to.”

Annie doesn’t say anything, just burrows deeper into his lap, her fingers curling lightly into his shirt.

“I’ll never doubt it,” she mumbles. “Ever again.”

“You better not.”

The buttons click again. The game resumes. And the room slips back into that slow kind of silence. The kind that lingers after long nights and longer mornings. The kind that means everybody got exactly what they needed, and maybe a little more.

————

Taglist: @gtf-o-m-d @spookysanta @michelley-rome @bigjh @anniensmoke3 @hdfen2474 @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @killmongerdispussy @theogbadbitch @ccwpidsblog @princesskillmonger @blowmymbackout @theethighpriestess @blktinkerbell @steampunkprincess147 @diamondsinterlude @partylikemajima @theegoldenchild @mhhhhmmmmmmm @lilchubbs @thebumblebeesworld @mastertia221b @brownskincheyenne @belleofthefloor @c0tt0ncandi @irefusetobeacasualty @cocoxciv-blog @melodyofmbaku @lb-xci @christinabae @babygirl-4986 @honeytoffee

#annie moore #smoke moore #sinners #smoke x annie #fic recs #sinners fic

274 notes · View notes

hencheri · 12 days ago

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▸ 18+ mdni.

| pairing. mean!xiaojun x fem!reader

| warnings. dubcon, lots of porn sorry (i promise there's a story), hostage situation, mention of stalking & harassment, this is basically just toxic domesticity tbh, abusive relationship, mention of hendery x reader, physical abuse, body harm (by xiaojun).

| wc. 2.3k

this is set after this fic. technically a part 3, but you can read it as a standalone. based on this ask.

your breathing is short and shallow. the bed sheets are sticking to your damp skin and the space between you and xiaojun is almost non-existent. your chest heaves to the pace of your sobs, quiet and tearful, only the sounds of your sniffling and his deep moans being heard. he doesn’t pay attention to your distress, he doesn’t really care, simply gazing at you with half-lidded eyes, liking the pained expression on your face that has become his favourite to look at. pretty and delicate.

even though you’re not thrashing your arms around anymore, xiaojun still holds your wrists together above your head. he likes it a lot to have control over you, unable to do anything but cry and take what he so generously gives you. the muscles of his biceps flex as he keeps your arms pinned down, holding your leg up with the other hand.

his thrusts are slow but precise, never sliding out of you too much, keeping the most part of his cock nestled between your tight walls. your wetness is enough to make his movements smooth and painless, squelching noises escaping your pussy as he repeatedly pushes his way into you.

xiaojun leans down to your neck, his teeth biting into your skin, a groan rumbling through his throat when you let out a weak whimper at the slight pain. you arch your back and your nipples brush over his equally naked chest, making him go feral. the raw feeling of skin against skin, he loves it.

he moves to the other side of your neck, biting down, then progressively goes down until he reaches your chest, covering your breasts with the print of his teeth. he lets go of your wrists to grip your hips, picking them up to deepen his thrusts, watching the way your tits bounce to the pace of his hips. you keep your hands on each side of your head, fingers clenching into fists as xiaojun pounds into you.

his eyes are wild and crazed as they roam over you, hiding his cruelty, his desire to hurt you, to ruin you to the core. he can’t help it, it’s a need at this point to brutalize your skin, leave his marks on you, show that you’re his.

his palms travel to the underside of your thighs where he gropes the flesh and he bends them over your stomach, allowing him to reach even deeper than before, his tip nudging your g-spot inside of you. the stretch of your muscles make you cry out, twisting the bed sheets between your fingers. your legs hang over his shoulders, his toned chest dripping in sweat.

“dejun,” you whine his name, a sob escaping your mouth. oh, you look and sound so pitiful. you’re so precious, he thinks.

xiaojun’s hands drop beside your shoulders—straining your muscles even more—now staring into your eyes. they’re glossy and pleading, but he won’t give you mercy, he can’t do that. he doesn’t want to.

“be quiet,” he orders in a low tone, lowering his head until his face is inches away from yours. “you’re pretty when you’re quiet.” the compliment slips past his lips, as soft as xiaojun can be, his breath caressing your cheek.

he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing just a little. he makes you cum around his cock, and when he reaches his own high, he doesn’t pull out, releasing himself inside of you while he moans in your ear. you feel full and dirty. exhausted.

he stays inside of you for a few minutes, his body on top of yours, slowly catching his breath. xiaojun never stays for very long, though. he never cuddles you, never tells you much, unlike hendery. they’re so different, yet the very same at the same time.

today xiaojun bumped into you at the grocery store out of all places. it was unexpected, but not surprising. you’ve come to understand you’re never really alone, always one of them lurking around, refusing to let you go.

at first, it was at random places, but then it was waiting for you at your job or in front of your apartment—even inside sometimes. you don’t have time for yourself because they’re always everywhere, not shy to make their presence known. but you’ve come to accept it, you think, or at least you’ve learned it would be this way from now on.

it’s weird in your opinion. you didn’t ask for any of this, but you don’t really have a choice—never did you. though you never agreed to it, it’s like having two boyfriends who don’t respect your boundaries—or just don’t bother to, why would they anyway?

when xiaojun slips out of you, he gets out of bed and puts his sweatpants back on. he passes his hand through his hair, glimpsing at your body laying on your bed, unmade and messy with pillows fallen to the floor, before leaving your bedroom. you eventually do, too, putting back on your panties and tank-top you had on earlier.

you walk to your kitchen and your gaze is caught on xiaojun smoking outside, arms leaned over the railing of the balcony. you watch him through the glass door, asking yourself when all of this has become normal, somewhat domestic.

you cook something quick with the remains of last night. after 10 minutes or so, xiaojun comes back inside right when you’re done with the food, pouring everything into two separate bowls. he has a small smile on his face when he sees you coming, sitting down at the dining table that only has two chairs, but when you place the bowls down, xiaojun swiftly pulls you into his lap.

one arm circles your waist while the other slides the bowl to him. he hands you the chopsticks and you execute his silent command of feeding him. you pick up a piece of meat and a couple of cooked vegetables and bring it to his mouth with your open palm under it in case of any fallouts. his hand stays on your thigh as you do so, moving up and down, his arm around your body tucking you closer to him.

after a few bites, his hand inches higher, fingers brushing over the bump of your pussy, pressing down on your clit. he looks at your face while he rubs the pads of his fingers between your legs, not caring if you try to close them, still slipping his hand between your thighs. he’s munching on his food as he plays with your pussy through your panties, making you squirm on his lap.

“stop it,” you say in a whiny voice, a pout forming on your lips, but he continues, unfazed. he goes rougher, cupping your cunt and rubbing his whole hand on you, half-lidded eyes not leaving your face once, not wanting to miss any of your reactions that he finds so cute. “dejun-!” you drop the chopsticks and they roll to the floor.

your eyes rapidly fill up in water, xiaojun groaning at the sight of them. “already crying?” he asks rhetorically. “poor baby, you won’t like what i’ve planned next…” he then buries his hand into your panties, fingers dipping between your sticky folds, feeling his cum seeping from your pussy.

he fucks you there on his lap with his fingers stuffed in your cunt, pumping them in and out with hurry at a violent pace. you cry, but he doesn’t care, he loves your tears, loves to see them flow on your face like a waterfall.

you hold on tightly to his shoulders, your nails leaving crescent shapes on his skin, crying into the crook of his neck. he smells like cigarettes and it makes your nose scrunch up. the scent is laced to his breath as well, and even though you don’t like it, having told him multiple times before, there’s something reassuring to it.

“my little crybaby,” he coos, moving his fingers inside of you, feeling how your gummy walls clench around him. he takes a handful of your hair to pull your head away from his neck, locking eyes with you. “you sound like you’re not liking this, but i know you do,” he whispers, “you need me to fuck your pussy, to fuck you dumb. you don’t want to have control, need someone like me to put some sense into your life.”

after making you cum around his fingers and making you lick them clean, he goes to your room and comes back all dressed up. xiaojun doesn’t stay the night, or any longer than the time it takes to fuck you and play husband and wife with you. when the door to your apartment closes, xiaojun gone, you feel lonely, a little depressed. it’s as if you’re not used to being alone anymore, like it’s too much on you, too much time and space for you to think.

—-

you pass the pad of your finger over the scar on your stomach, tracing the ‘D’ then the ‘J’. it’s still sensitive, but it’s healed quite well, a new layer of skin now covering the letters carved into your flesh. it’s like a tattoo, forever on you, always reminding you of the meaning behind it. you’re owned—he owns you.

you look at it through the mirror above the bathroom sink, holding his t-shirt up to reveal the ownership he put on you. it sits right above your hip bone, having to lower the band of your panties to see it properly.

you don’t know how to feel about it—sad, angry, or maybe disgusted? or all of it? perhaps, deep down, you’re fine with it.

when you catch xiaojun’s silhouette through the mirror walking into the room, you quickly let go of the t-shirt. you don’t say anything as he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing the front of his body against your back. he tucks his face in the crook of your neck and meets your gaze in the mirror.

“aren’t you pretty?” he mumbles against your skin, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses here and there. his hands rub up and down your body, lifting the hem of your—his—shirt at the same time. his fingers inch up toward your scar like yours did a minute ago, admiring the letters of his name carved into your skin.

he toys with the lace of your panties while his face is buried in your neck, the intention behind his actions evident. you look at yourself as he nips at the skin of your shoulder, lightly grinding his hard cock against your ass, one hand dipping below between your legs and the other squeezing your tits.

you gasp when his fingers touch your bare pussy, his middle finger finding your clit and pressing down slow circles on it. your hips jolt forward, small electricity shocks passing through your body.

“d’you want me to kiss your little cunt, too?” he asks, his hand that was on your tits moving up to grip your throat, waiting for your answer as he keeps circling your clit with his finger. “i know you like that a lot…”

you hesitate for a moment, look away from the mirror. telling xiaojun no never ends up in your favour, and you know that way too well. a slap to the face is the best ending you can expect and so far, the worst is his name permanently cut into your flesh.

“please,” you breathe out, heart accelerating when you see a faint smirk drawing on his lips.

xiaojun turns you around and pushes you against the counter. he drops down to his knees and doesn’t wait to pull your panties, letting them pool at your ankles. you’re surprised for a moment that he’d beat his knees just to please you, but you realize that it’s more about him than it is about you.

xiaojun is quick with his movements, expertly exploring your pussy with his tongue, knowing all your weaknesses. he swiftly hooks your leg over his shoulder, allowing him more space to use his fingers as well, patting the sweet spot inside of you. he focuses on sucking your clit, producing lewd, wet sounds with his mouth that make your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

you avoid looking down, gripping the counter behind you and leaning over it as xiaojun’s ministrations give you euphoric pleasure. it becomes more and more overwhelming, feeling the knot at the pit of your stomach tightens. you can’t help but moan and whimper, eyes welling up in tears—you’re so conflicted, torn between hating what your life has become or loving how undeniably good xiaojun makes you feel.

your body tenses up, resisting your orgasm, resisting him, but it never lasts very long. he unexpectedly grabs one of your wrists and brings your hand to his head. without wanting it, you glance down and he’s already staring up at you, but eye-contact is broken as he senses you approaching your high, your walls clamping down around his fingers.

you feel everything at once; the coil in your stomach snapping, shocks of pleasure passing through your body, xiaojun’s hand roughly gripping the fat just below your ass and his fingers thrusting inside of you until you’re off your high. you feel drunk and lightheaded, arms and legs shaking.

he eventually gets up, licking his lips before kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue. when he pulls back, you see the clear arousal in his eyes, his erection pressing against your thigh.

“there’s something else i wanna do,” he purrs.

he guides you to his bed that has also been yours for the past few days, even occasionally sharing it with both xiaojun and hendery. there, he fucks you violently—he likes to make you hope that it won’t be by acting sweet first to only absolutely ruin you after. you cry and he thrills off of it, you tell him to stop and he goes even rougher.

—-

a.n.: hii yes so here's part 3 to mean!xiaodery, more like a xiaojun chapter i'd say. i really hope you liked it!? it's a lot of smut lol but i love their dynamic so much... i do have a plan (sort of) for a hendery part, probably as insane as this one. i already have some of it written...

pls do tell me your thoughts!! i don't intend on making this a series or anything, that's not really my thing, but i'm open on building more around reader's relationship with xiaodery cause i love them sm... let me know if this was a little darker than usual?? it's nothing extra but with the whole initials carving thing i wonder... ty <3

#[ ★ ] dark content #— ☆ starring wayv #w/ xiaojun !#nct smut #nct x reader #nct hard hours #wayv smut #wayv x reader #xiaojun smut #xiaojun x reader

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toastnotonfire · 7 months ago

Text

Show Me Yours.

"All the bad dreams that you hide

Show me yours, I'll show you mine"

-Phoebe Bridgers

pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

wordcount: 1453

Summary: You remember the night Daryl showed you his scars for the first time, while you were patching him up from a failed supply run.

A/N: guys i am so sleep deprived and swamped with work and coursework but i really wanted to get back into writing for the new year and revive my page, so sorry if this is absolute dogshit I honestly cant tell!! As always my asks are open and any spelling errors or critiques pls let me know! Happy New Year Lovelies!!

The archer was simply not what many people had preemptively assumed. He shouldn't be defined by his exterior or the way he lashed out when threatened, like a wild and dangerous wolf caught in a snare, because it's simply just not him. You know that better than anyone else.

You remember the night he dropped his walls to you, back at the prison, which felt like a lifetime ago; it might as well be.

It was storming badly outside; the wind howled and thrashed against the prison walls loudly, drowning out the sounds of walkers ravenous growls, yet the noise couldn't drown out your incessant worrying for the archer who had set out earlier that very day.

The rain seemed to pick up in momentum every time your brain screamed the different possibilities to itself. You couldn't sleep. You wouldn't until you knew he was safe and sound.

Some god might have been listening that night, he might have taken pity on your poor mortal soul for all that you'd lost, maybe the higher power who sent him back to you knew you'd need him yet. The sound of the large prison gates being pulled open was the sweetest music to your ears.

You remember racing out towards the gates to greet him, your joy faltering slightly as you took in his sorry state, soaked to the bone from the unrelenting rain and some gashes that decorated his cheek and arms, but alive nonetheless. Breathing is all you can ask for in this unforgiving new world. You know that now, more than ever.

That night you took him up to your room, the small cell in the furthest corner, which you claimed the first night you all fought your way into this block, although you didn't actually sleep in it for a good while. The fear overpowering your exhaustion. You can't really remember the cell walls anymore. The memory slipped from your brain slowly the more places you sought refuge in throughout the years.

You had walked him in slowly, closing the curtain behind you to conceal you both behind a screen. It almost gave the illusion of safety, being in a little room like that, secluded from prying eyes.

"Are you hurt badly?" you asked him quietly, grabbing a small towel and filling a bowl with some lukewarm water.

He shook his head from left to right, eyeing you warily as you lowered yourself to sit next to him with the now damp towel, gently dragging it up and down his bare arms to clear the grime away, your movements featherlight as you ghosted over a gash on his arm. A silence laid between you both, heavy but not exactly uncomfortable.

"Where else are you hurt?" you whispered, breaking the fragile silence, Daryl seemed to go ridgid at the question, staring straight ahead, chewing nervously on his bottom lip, a habit you had observed from him since way back at the quarry.

After a few long seconds in silence Daryl gently makes a move, removing the soaked leather vest, which fell to the ground with a wet plop, and slowly unbuttoning his dark grey shirt to reveal his back to you.

You held back a shocked gasp as you took in his back, long deep scars stretched across his back, colouring him in deep purples and reds. The scars have ragged and angry edges, and your body nearly ached at seeing them, mirroring his own pain in yourself. There was a new cluster of gashes where he must have skinned his back falling today. You gently shook yourself for pausing so long and sprung back into tending to his wounds. Thinking better than to acknowledge the blatant vulnerability in the moment for fear of scaring him off.

You reached out slowly to press the damp towel to his back, wishing desperately to somehow absorb the years of pain from his body, to take it into yourself and erase this past from him. However, as much as you wanted it to be possible, it wasn't. So you had to make do with easing the pain of his newest wounds, hoping to god you could convey the affection you held for him.

You cleaned his wounds with the utmost care that night, gentle movements that ensured the sting of the antiseptic was numbed, as you contemplated breaking the long, vulnerable silence.

"Daryl?" you had whispered attentively, the end of his name lilting up into a slight question. You weren't exactly sure what you were going to say yet.

"It's fine" He replied quickly, practically cutting you off, his tone gruff and almost defensive.

"it's not... it doesn't have to be fine" You whisper back, a small correction, desperately wanting, needing him to know that you cared.

The silence afterwards was long and painful, you were scared to move in case he snapped out of it, snatched his shirt back and left. in case he never spoke to you again after this, in case you pushed too far, crossed some line, some barrier he had.

What happened next was what you had least expected at the time. His shoulders, imperceptibly, started to tremble. it was such a slight movement that you could have missed it had you not been paying such close careful attention to the man before you.

You lay your hand carefully on his shoulder, offering him the slightest physical reassurance, the movement unsure and hesitant. You gave him space and time to flinch away, to turn sharply and tell you off before leaving.

But he didn't go. He didn't snap or shout or push or shove.

You kept your hand steady on the archer's back, slowly leaning forward to wrap your arms around him carefully, slow and steady in a deliberate effort not to startle him. After nearly a year in his company you had learned that Daryl startled easily, lashed out quick, and now you were beginning to understand the root cause. You cursed yourself for not seeing the signs sooner, for resenting his attitude in those first months, for arguing when he pushed you away.

It made sense now, and it broke your heart.

He let out a broken, shaky sigh as your arms wrapped around him, his breaths coming faster and irregularly as he finally let every defense crumble. In that moment nothing could have pulled you away from him, nothing at all. You were consumed by the need to comfort him, to soothe his aches and pains, to take the unbearable weight off of his shoulders.

After what felt like an eternity, and simultaneously not nearly long enough, the archer finally spoke.

“S’a hell of an ugly sight” He mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically broken, soft.

“No. no it's not… it… you could never be.” You whispered back, your voice hushed and gentle. You pulled back, gently beckoning him to turn to face you, desperate to tell him to his face.

“You're perfect, scars and all.” you whispered, grabbing his face up in both hands, urging him to believe, to understand. He just stared back stunned, his eyes searching yours long and hard. For a fleeting moment you were worried you had once again overstepped, that he would push you away and leave, running from you and the prison walls.

All doubt left your mind when he leaned forward, the horrific world surrounding you was suddenly forgotten as his lips met yours in a soft, gentle manner. It caught you off guard before you softened against him, giving in to the magnetic pull between you both. The world turned off around you, the horrific, awful things you'd seen, and done, together became irrelevant as he pulled you in. Your hands stayed cupped around his jaw as your other went to tangle in the hair as the back of his neck.

When he finally broke the kiss, he leaned back to give you a long, meaningful look, his eyes taking in your facial features, your short and rapid breaths mingling with one anothers in the inches between both your faces.

The storm raged on outside the prison walls, but the threat that night had been swiftly forgotten as you curled up in the Archers arms, so naturally it was as if you had been doing it your whole life.

That night will never leave your mind even now, when youre looking at him from across the room in your apartment in the commonwealth, watching him chasing RJ about the house as laughter fills the air, or when you're standing in the doorway, listening to him read to Judith.

It was the night he dropped his guard, the night he was brave enough to rip down the walls he had built to keep you out. The night he became yours.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd drabbles #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine

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backinmyphase · 10 months ago

Text

Not your letter

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru wouldn't call himself a very anxious man. But now as he hears cries every night, he can't help but worry- about his darling wife.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3300 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups

I'm sooo tired, but I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy you all seem so sincerely to enjoy it. Like always your comments make my day <333

Gojo Satoru liked spending money far too much.

After the last few days, this became clear very quickly. Yes, he was rich. But the way things were going this week, probably not for long.

He probably wouldn't even read every book that was on the bedside table.

Every morning he was awake before you and explored the town the two of you visited. When you were awake he took you out of the little charming hotel and showed you what he discovered.

You wouldn't see any problem in it if he didn't always had his credit card ready, the moment you looked at something.

And the two of you didn't need that many souvenirs either. But at the same time, it was hard for you to tell him not to use his money.

And now, too. As you walked through the small village. You knew what was coming when you passed a small café.

His eyes grew wide behind his sunglasses and a smile stole itself onto his face.

"Would you fancy something sweet?"

Not really. But he smiled in a way that made you feel sorry for taking the wind out of his sails.

So naturally, you left with three bags of sweet pastries.

Your mother would wring your neck. You could hear her lessons. 'You should bake something for your husband instead of letting him buy it!

"Don't you want something?"

Satoru looked at you with a bitten cupcake in his hand and some icing on his cheek. At the same time, he held out a new cupcake to you.

Of course, you didn't just take it because of his smile.

"Thank you." carefully you took a bite, trying to not look messy while you eat.

As you looked over to Satoru, you saw how he swallowed the rest of the cupcake in one go. You couldn't help but smile as you saw him chew way too much at the same time.

"Satoru, you have no manners." It was refreshing.

He gasped. "Am I now not even allowed to eat normally in front of my wife? What has the world come to?" Dramatically he held onto his chest.

His eyes shut and head tilted a bit back, he expressed his 'hurt' so playfully you couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh Satoru, if that's how you eat normally, I'm really concerned for your stomach."

As you saw how shooked he looked at you, you regretted saying anything. But then he grinned at you and leaned a bit forward.

"Did I just see my darling wife laugh?"

"It's not like I never laugh." you muttered as you started to eat again, hiding your embarrassment behind the pink, sprinkled, icing of the cupcake.

"Well, never before in front of me."

"Nonsense." you shook your head, while making sure your face was clean.

"It's true." he took another cupcake. "You should do it more."

The warmth that shot into your face was now a regular visitor. Something had changed. His presence made you jumpy, your heart was suddenly working overtime.

And your head. Oh, your head.

The thoughts that crept into it became more and more jumbled. Every time your looks crossed paths you couldn't help but spiral in a trail of thoughts, that made you feel dizzy.

You were truly sick. But it didn't feel bad.

A scream shattered the relaxed atmosphere. Your stomach turned when you saw a woman with a baby behind Satoru.

The baby was thrashing around, his voice continuing to tear the air and his cheeks red from the water running down.

The baby clutched the woman's hand, crying desperately.

"Are you okay?"

You quickly turned your head away to hide the rising panic. "Yes, I'm just tired."

His look spoke volumes. Always being tired was probably not the best sign.

"Then let's go back." He stood up, the food tucked away carefully.

"It's alright. It's not too bad."

He shook his head. "You look like I'm forcing you to go out everytime. I don't want that."

Defeated, you also stood up slowly and trotted behind him. You really wanted to enjoy your trip away, and get to know Satoru. But the words of the higher-ups were like a pest, constantly reminding you that your duty wasn't getting to know him.

It was having a heir.

"I'm sorry." your voice was hoarse, embarrassingly quiet. "I'm always in the way."

He laughed, while slowing down, to adjust to your speed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm always breaking of our time." you shook your head. "We barely get to do something."

"Oh please." he chuckled. "We have still plenty of time. We are just three days away. And it's not a problem, I still get to know you."

He looked at you again, his sunglasses barely covering his skylike eyes. "And I know." He smiled at you. "That you are not sleeping very well. Or that you are very exhausted. Maybe both."

"Am I right?"

He was. You were sleeping terrible. Even though the reading helped with sleeping in, the nightmares didn't disappear.

The constant thoughts about your 'duties' were kept alive through them. You wished you could just forget all of these things. Satoru seemed like he could.

You just shrugged.

"Just try to sleep when we are back." Slowly, very hesitant, did his hand engulf yours. His hand was warm. So, so warm.

"I have planned something for later. And I want you to be able to enjoy it."

You were wrong. Gojo Satoru didn't like spending money too much. He just enjoyed spoiling you far too much.

"So how do you like your little 'rebellion'?"

The dark surrounding you, engulfed your mother almost whole as she sat there in her chair. Her arms crossed like chains, heavy, ready to arrest you.

"It's not like that-"

"Yeah, yeah." she waved her hand, wiping your words away. "That's what they always say."

Her leg twitched, but her face remained a mask. She sat unimpressed on her throne, looking at you like you stole candy. "How did you imagine all of this?"

She crossed her legs, it's twitching being held down like a child. "What did you think will happen after all of this?"

You looked at her, your mouth thin as a line. Your tongue felt like it was chained down. Heavy, like a boulder.

"Perhaps…" She tilted her head. "Running away together?"

'Stop.' you wanted to say, no scream. 'Stop speaking.'

"Maybe a romance where he takes you in his arms? Just leaving jujutsu society together behind?"

Your body felt light and so so heavy at the same time. Dizziness overtook you mind, making your vision blurry.

"No Clans and no responsibilities. Like Paris and Helen." she laughed loudly, her voice made you shiver.

"That would never happen. You know that. You are no Helen. Helen was a beautiful, desired and foolish woman. She didn't consider her people."

She stood up, while you lost your balance, she was suddenly towering above you, looking down with this well-known expression.

"And Gojo is no Paris. As if he would start a war for you. This boy has no courage. That's just selfish to wish." she shook her head again.

"Stop mother." your throat was burning. "This is pointless. Satoru is not like that. Satoru-"

Her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pierce her prey. "I'm just reminding you to not do something foolish. And after your recent behavior that seems rather needed."

Your hands were shaking, sweating. Your breath was heavy and your body seemed paralyzed. You felt like a kid again. Crawling to your mother crying.

'I don't want to marry someone I don't know!' you hiccuped, chocking on your own tears a bit. 'I don't want-'

You still felt the burning sting on your cheek. Still felt her unforgiving stare as she looked at you.

'You don't have to want. You have to fulfill your duty. And that's bringing connections to your clan.' she didn't scream. No she was in control of herself what made it so much worse.

"So stop whining."

You only saw darkness. Your body jolted uncontrollably, it felt like being pushed down into the darkness.

Like you were dying.

"Enjoy your time. And use it." She waved and-

Your consciousness came crawling back, while you were being shaken awake. You felt cold, unbearable so. The sweat on you rather sticky.

It was a nightmare.

"Everything is alright."

You felt heavy, eyes fighting to open. But in the end they lost. You were so tired. Every ounce of sleep was a fight with your conscience. It was almost… Unnatural.

Warm arms embraced you, pulling your limp, cold, and heavy feeling body towards their warmth.

"I'm here now."

You knew it was him. It was the only logical explanation. But it felt so surreal. Feeling his strength and reassurance so close.

His grip on you was not forceful. No, it was so soft you couldn't help but start slipping into unconsciousness again.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. It just felt right.

"How late is it?" you paced through the room, while Satoru layed lazily in the bed, yawning.

"Don't know. It's not that important." as he sat up his silver white, no snow white hair was sticking up in all directions. It was so messy, it was endearing. Which is obviously just a fact-

"I thought you had something planned? Why didn't you wake me up?" you gathered new things to wear, since you obviously had to take a shower.

"You were sleeping so peaceful." he shook his head like it was obvious. "That was the first time I saw you smile in your sleep."

You stop for a second, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. "You watch me sleep?" you joked, while you pretended to look for something in your suitcase.

"No! I-, that's not what I-, I don't…" he stopped and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. It felt so crazy to have him stutter. You looked at him over your shoulder, hoping to have cooled down your face.

As he saw you holding in a laughter, his panicked look fell.

"Oh, ha ha." he raised an eyebrow.

"What did you plan? Can we still do it?" You didn't want to cancel his plans. Not Again. Not because of you.

He scratched his the back of his neck while thinking a bit. "Do you know the time?"

"It's…" you search for the clock in the bath. "8:46 PM? How long was I out??"

He chuckled while murmuring something to himself. You wanted to ask but also didn't.

"Well it is a bit late. Don't know if you even want to-"

A long, loud growl from your stomach interrupted him. Silence set in while he was just looking at you. The warmth in your face returning.

And then he laughed. "Well I guess that answers my question. Can't let my sweet wife starve."

"Sure, Satoru." you muttered as you chuckled a bit too. "Because you are of course not hungry at all after being here the whole day."

He grinned crookedly, while pulling the blanket away and also standing up. "Let's just make ourselves ready and then go."

You nodded and gathered what you found for yourself. Standing up from the ground and gripping the door of the bath, you stopped as he spoke again.

"But if it's too much please say so right away. I don't want you to suffer through anything."

Hands sweating again, you smiled at him. "I will." Then you got ready.

Satoru was nervous as fuck.

It still felt so unreal. Having you in his arms, you holding so desperately onto him, but slowly over time relaxing.

You cried. During your sleep.

It wasn't a one time thing. You cried almost every night. It was very silent, almost not audible, but he could hear it.

And see it.

He wanted to help you, but didn't know if he overstepped a silent boundary. A boundary so carefully layed out the last days.

But today was different. You spoke. Saying something like 'Stop mother'.

And you whispered his name.

He didn't know why. Didn't know if you had a nightmare where he was a part of, but he felt like he had to help you. Like you called for him.

He didn't watch you sleep. He listened to you sleep. To your cries.

"Where are we going?" you looked around. This was not a street you two had explored before and it was dark enough that you couldn't recognize even if you did know it.

"It's a surprise. Guess you have to wait." he grinned as he went sternly, while still making sure you two were going next to each other.

"You are so unfair sometimes." you shook your head. "Can't believe I married you."

"Oh please." he grinned back at you, playing into your dramatics. "As if you don't love surprises."

"Oh, Satoru." you deadpanned at him. "I hate them."

For two seconds you just stopped and looked at each other. But then you started laughing at his nervous expression.

"I'm joking, sorry. But you should have seen your face!"

He chuckled lightly, while looking around. Then he grinned back at you. "Well I hope you were joking, because here it is!"

You looked around but only saw a fancy restaurant. After looking for any small places you usually had take out, it dawned on you that the restaurant was the place he wanted to go.

"Oh Satoru…" you looked at the old, but very preserved, Restaurant in front of you. The letters on top of it almost shy, not being big and very eye catching, but very elegant. It spelled Sato's Kitchen.

"If you don't like it, we can always go back-"

"It's not like I don't like it!" you interrupted him, before he could make false conclusions. "It's just… This was very expensive, was it not?"

"Why talk about money? Let's just have a nice evening." he smiled and you knew it was expensive. Defeated you sighed.

"Okay. But you have to stop spending so much money-"

"Alright, let's go!"

He just took your hand and pulled you softly behind him.

It was very late. So it wasn't so surprising that your reservation was already long gone. But as you stood there behind Saturo while he tried to get a table for you, you felt bad.

It was almost laughable how naiv you were.

Dragging him out at these hours just to be told that they didn't have any tables left and we should come back tomorrow.

"Is there really no way-"

"I'm sorry good sir, but we are out. We can rearrange your reservation for tomorrow."

They were very kind for that. But you still felt bad.

"That wouldn't be so bad, would it Satoru?"

He nodded, obviously a bit frustrated as he gave his information to make the reservation or furthermore rearrange it.

"Yeah, that's alright." he muttered to the waiter. After making sure everything was alright, yoi two left shortly.

It was a bit embarrassing. Showing up almost an hour and half late at such a desired restaurant. Another reason you felt bad.

"I'm so so-"

"Well we can still do it tomorrow." Satoru smiled. Smiled so softly at you that you felt like crying. It made you feel so stupid, so unstable.

"Yeah." you almost chocked at the word.

He started going again, silently trying to get you to walk ahain. Silently walking beside him, you tried to find the light words you just had said so easily. But there were none.

"Well we can still have take out." he walked closer than before. Not too close, just a bit closer. "If that's alright for you?"

You chuckle a bit, trying to relax. "Of course. That sounds lovely."

The night was beautiful. The moon was already high up and you could see countless of stars here. In Tokyo you could only rarely see the stars. It was comforting.

The silence between you wasn't awkward anymore. Maybe you two did start to get to know each other in a way. Even though Satoru was still a mystery to you most of the time.

It just was comfortable as a whole.

Going together to your favorite ramen shop. Eating in silence and slowly walking back.

It must be really late. But Satoru did bring the bag of the sweet pastries. And as you were walking back to your hotel, he did eat from them.

You couldn't help but watch him. It was cute really. How he enjoyed it so much. And a small smile made it's way onto your face.

"Did you Always like sweets this much?"

Satoru looks at you and thinks. A cupcake still in his mouth, he tries chewing faster to give you your answer.

"Well, I think I did." he coughs as his mouth was empty. "When I was a kid I wasn't allowed to eat anything sweet or unhealthy because of those obsessive higher ups. Said it would make my powers weaker, to keep me away from them."

He took another big bite after saying that and smiled at you as he chewed.

"Well," he was grinning like an idiot after he swallowed. "After I started eating sweets I didn't get weaker. In fact quite the opposite!" He laughed.

You admired him, as he took another bite. That he could just call them obsessive and wipe it away. You wished you could not care.

And as he took his last bite, you looked at the remaining cupcakes and wondered. Could you try making them for him? Would he like them?

It was too late to think anymore, after you got home you just got ready for bed and layed down while Satoru was in the bathroom.

But as you wanted to close your eyes, this uneasiness from before seemed like it was back again. You began to feel cold and wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket.

Satoru came out of the bathroom looking at you, like he was fighting with himself.

And in a moment of weakness and exhaustion you let yourself say the words you normally would only think.

"Do you want to sleep in the bed?"

He just looked at you, the darkness around you made it hard to see his expression. Also your vision started to get blurry because of your tiredness.

"If you don't mind.".

You yawned as your eyes fell close. "You helped…" you mumbled and didn't fight your exhaustion anymore.

And as you felt his warm arms around you, again you couldn't help but smile.

Satoru didn't want to wake you up, but he also wanted to do his daily routine round to get you and himself breakfast. Tough decision.

Before all of this he would have never gotten up earlier than he had too. But here with you it was different. So so different.

And he didn't want to let you go. But in the end he did get up and got ready to leave for his round.

As he went down the stairs, Hina's Grandma smiled at him like every morning.

"Good morning, Mr. Gojo. On your way again?"

He laughed a bit and nodded. It was part of the routine to talk to her a bit, as she was a lovely person and knew the place well.

"Well a two letters arrived today. Both adressed at Mrs. Gojo. So I thought I could give them to you for later."

She handed him the two envelopes with a smile.

He didn't mean to sneak into your business or anything like that. But he couldn't help but feel uneasy almost angry when he saw the names of the senders.

One was from the higher ups. And one from your mother.

And he felt cold as he wondered why they would only write you.

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