#but even he's not really in the game all that much and his appeal only really flourishes by the end/during replays

[depravitycentral]

I don’t know if this appeals to anyone but me, but I’ve been watching a lot of period pieces about Regency Era England (specifically the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton) and I can’t stop thinking about the way women were actually treated like property, their only purpose to wed and produce children. Imagine the yandere possibilities, and the absolute lack of control you’d have over your fate.

Specifically, I can’t stop thinking about the lack of care and the disregard for social customs and norms yanderes could exhibit in that era. The rules are so very strict, and so very numerous – really, can he be blamed for not adhering to each and every one? Sure, he doesn’t treat any other woman this way, but is it such a crazy notion that he breaks a rule here or there? Surely not – not when it’s so very obvious that the proposal is coming, that he’s absolutely hell bent on keeping you pristine and pretty and pregnant in his own abode, not the pathetic pile of wood and roofing you call your home.

Maybe he’s always been one for attending the local and regional balls – for appearances, yes, but also because there’s nothing more that he loves than being in a room with all sorts of beautiful women and alcohol. Maybe he likes to play the politics game, stringing along every girl he can find so that he gets his pick of wives, so that he can bed any woman he so pleases without as much as a goodbye. Except that once his feelings for you form, his composure crumbles a bit.

He’s standing much, much too close to you throughout the entirety of your dance with him. His hips are tightly pressed against your ass as he follows the 1, 2, 3 of the waltz, the shuddering breath you hear at your ear making your skin crawl.

Maybe he’s insisted on keeping his hand much too low as he guides you through the dance, almost able to feel the hem of your underclothes under the layers of your dress, his fingers eager as he presses them tighter and tighter against you.

He’ll speak to you during the dance, his voice low and whispered and his mouth much too close to your ear, the audible wet sound of him licking his lips seeming louder than the quartet in the corner of the dancefloor.

He’s even asking you to remove your gloves, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to ruin the delicate silk – what would your dear mother think of me? And once they’re off (because really, his tone left very little room for rebuttal), his bare skin is pressing against yours, his palms clammy and sweating and absolutely engulfing yours with the way he keeps grabbing at more more more, wanting to feel every inch of you possible.

And then of course there’s those who aren’t as bold with physicality – no, the mere thought of being any closer to you than society permits is enough to get them hot under the collar, so nervous and flustered that they’re sure they’ll trip over themselves, that they’ll make an absolute fool in front of you. Instead, they resort to more classy measures – that is, it’s a bit jarring when they quickly approach you the moment you’ve entered the ballroom, swallowing harshly and asking in a voice that’s just a hair too high-pitched if they could perhaps have the honor of claiming your first dance this evening?

You can’t exactly say no – and even as you watch him eagerly scribble his name down on the first dance slot, then the second, then the third and fifth and tenth, what can you really say? He’s wealthier than your family, and your mother watches from the corner with a glint in her eye because oh, isn’t this just such an advantageous match?

Even the grouches who only attended the ball in which they met you upon a friend’s request act out in unexpected ways. They seem distracted, clutching onto their lemonade glass with a grip tight enough to turn their knuckles white, their shoulders visibly tense as their eyes scan the room over and over. They’re looking for you, of course. Mentally guessing at what colors you’d be donning this evening, how your hair is styled, what sorts of jewels and precious jewelry sits so prettily in the hollow of your throat or dangles against the sensitive skin of the juncture of your neck and jaw.

And once they've found you, they may not have the courage to speak with you or dance with you. But suddenly you've gained a permanent shadow for the evening. Where you go, he goes. He’s following you a good five feet behind, snaking around fellow attendees and keeping his eyes locked on your figure, biting his lip as he mentally notes who’s eye you’re catching, who’s speaking with you, who’s approaching you with a request to dance.

He’s standing directly behind you as you dance with some low-level baron, some insignificant man who can’t hold a candle to the riches, comfort and adoration that he can give you. And he's just staring, too – eyes like daggers as he watches the interaction, letting the anger simmer and fester until he finally, finally approaches you, his voice gruff and choppy as he compliments your dress (something like this dress is much more handsome than the last one you wore) and practically demands your next dance. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, he leads far, far too much.

But really, the truly terrible thing to think about is what happens after the ball – when they call upon you in the sanctity of your own home, all sorts of love declarations falling from their lips that are much too hyper specific and draw upon knowledge you know you’ve never shared with him. But you must be kind; he’s of higher rank, after all, in a position where a few bad words could ruin your family forever.

It’s just that when he drops to one knee and proposes, it’s difficult to remember your delicate position because he’s managed to find the ring of your dreams, and he’s going on about how he’s had your bedchamber already decorated to fit all your tastes, how he has a wardrobe full of new dresses he’s had custom-fit to you, how he’s already decided that you’re to have a son first, but then all daughters and you’ll name them James, Eleanor, Kathryn, Marta…

And as he embraces you, the hug either much too tight or much too stiff, it’ll feel like a cage locking into place around you. Because really, what can you do? If you try to fight him, he has the wealth and connections to force your family into consenting. And even if your parents refuse to hand you off to a man you clearly despise and fear, it’s not so difficult to spread the rumors about your purity, to claim that he’d witnessed a servant passionately embracing you, that he’d seen you naked in the arms of some butcher’s boy…

It’s your word against his, and oh, isn’t he so kind for still having you after your reputation’s been destroyed? Isn’t he so dreamy and chivalrous for saving you from a life of destitution and outcast? Even if he’s the one to blame for that life in the first place?

And he’ll be so good to you, he promises. He’ll explain each and every aspect of the wedding night, of the consummation of a marriage, showing you exactly how deeply he’s been desiring you, how long he’s been craving you, how many times he’s fucked his fist and been thinking of you you you in those tempting dresses you wear, of those hips that you sway and move like a fucking minx at every dance you attend…

He’ll leave you wanting for nothing – aside from perhaps your freedom, and perhaps your sanity. But he’s sure you’ll learn to love him.

You must, after all.

Specifically the image of a few characters in the traditional regency dress is making me feral - imagine Aizawa, who's known as the reclusive Duke of the area, his public appearances next to none and his temperament difficult to handle. But alas, what's this? A few snarky comments from you - also standing against the ballroom's wall - about the ridiculousness of women's fashion and the discomfort of dancing in heels has him chuckling a bit, your obvious lack of knowledge of his position making him feel oddly seen. And when you find yourself falling into his company at the next ball he's forced to attend, Aizawa decides there's something particularly agreeable about your smile - finding himself wanting to know if your lips taste as good as they look. And when he loses his composure and blurts these words out, don't expect him to cut off contact with you - instead, he'll immediately speak with your father, requesting your hand in marriage and hoping that in time you might learn to forgive his dismissal of your opinion. Perhaps a child would help distract you, yes?

Imagine Rengoku, who's introduced to you by the ball's hostess, Shinobu. Imagine Rengoku, who immediately dances with you and keeps returning to fill up your dance card, that smile blinding as he spends the evening on the dancefloor by your side. Imagine Rengoku, who calls upon you everyday after first meeting you, his visits growing in frequency - sometimes multiple a day - and duration as the weeks drag on. Imagine the way he'll end each visit by grasping your hand in his and giving it a much-too-long kiss, assuring you that it's only taking this long for him to propose to and wed you because he's having an entirely new manor built - one he thinks you'll like a bit more. Nevermind that you don't wish him to continue his visits or leave you alone - do you like floral or patterned wallpapers more?

Imagine Akaashi, who's every woman's dream for both his looks and status. Imagine the way he holds you so delicately as he twirls you, those steel eyes of his practically cutting into you, his mid-dance questions starting off simple and innocent and slowly morphing into something that feels like an interrogation, something that feels too intimate and demanding and strange. Imagine the way he grasps onto your wrist - still gently but firm enough to eliminate your escape - as he guides you towards the refreshments table, insisting that you absolutely must drink something because he's noticed you haven't drunk anything since you arrived nearly an hour ago. But don't mention the fact that you didn't meet until roughly twenty minutes ago - long after you'd walked through the front doors.

Imagine Chrollo, who manages to charm his way into getting you alone with him on the balcony, those dark eyes smoldering as he compliments you. There's something stiff and rehearsed about it, and as you snort and ask him how many women he seduces in a night's work, something clicks in his brain. Imagine the way he doesn't leave your side for an instant after that, glued to your hip and seamlessly managing to evade each and every potential suitor from approaching you. Imagine the way he begins inviting you for long stays at his rather luxurious home, conveniently placing your bedchambers beside his own, spending night after night with his ear pressed against your shared wall and biting his lip as he fists his cock to the sound of you humming to yourself and washing your face with the pale of lukewarm water he'd used first then had the servants bring to you.

[black-dhalias]

Blunt Force

Platonic!Finnick Odair X Reader

Peeta Mellark X Reader

Warnings: Language, brief descriptions of human trafficking, sexual themes

You won at fourteen, the youngest female to ever win, tied for the youngest ever with Finnick Odair. A District Two prodigy—a Capitol favorite and one of Snow’s favorites to pass around. Male victors rarely ever reached that level of appeal, but Finnick did… That’s what made Snow so malicious, so evil to you—a package deal is what he would call it.

Maybe you were too bitter about the whole thing, too stuck in the past, but being bitter is allowed in such circumstances. You breathe in deeply, a frigid District two wind burns your cheeks a harsh red. The furs of your jacket doing little to protect—you hear the distant cheers of the people. So much value put into the Hunger Games by District Two citizens, that even when Two doesn’t win—they cheer for the arriving Victors. They chant for victory, but you only remember the faces of Cato and Clove… You trained them. Helped raise them in the center. But it was rarely ever enough to keep them alive, but 74th Annual Victory Tour is upon you.

Everything is for survival, so its not like you can blame Katniss and Peeta. The star crossed lovers, not that you really believe that pathetic story got a second. Its all a performance in the games. Just like you killing your allies during the day, when you easily could have mercy killed them at night when they left you to watch by yourself. Just like you, they did everything to survive.

“Ms. Y/L/N… When I say jump, you will jump. When I say kill them… You kill them. When I tell you to fuck someone, you fuck them. You may not have a family, but Ms. Y/L/N, your certainly care for people.”

“I don’t have anyone.”

“Keep saying that and I’ll show you the price of lying to me.”

That was the day you learned your place in Panem, it made it impossible to forget. You would have to do anything to survive, do anyone—all at the beck and whim of a temperamental President. But he controlled you, and your body—he kept a tight grip. Your life comes in flashes, colors and shades—bright lights. It all happened so fast. You get dressed. You get to the party. You drink until your cheeks are warm, and then you see the boy from Twelve.

“Peeta Mellark.” Your lips still taste of spirits, as you smile at him—maybe he saw you first. Maybe he was curious. Or maybe he saw you staring, but you take his outstretched hand with a grin.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” He probably knows your name, most of Panem knows of your famed victory as you raise a brow, grinning more vibrantly. “Tell me Peeta Mellark… Would you like a drink?”

It didn’t start out as flirting, but now as he pins you to a wall—you begin to think that you might have flirted a bit. Might have thought he had a nice smile. Might have let those blue eyes entice you a little too close to the sun.

What do you care though? You like the way his lips taste—like red wine with a texture as soft as cotton. Sloppy kisses. Aggressive touches, needy—your back against the wall and fingers in his hair. All in flashes as you pull his ear to your lips, “Tell me what you want?”

“Bite me.” You oblige, his moans pushing you over the edge. And before you know it, your locked in an office in the Justice Building with your clothes on the floor.

You don’t see him again until the Victor’s parade, the 75th Hunger Games nearly underway. Clad in the skimpy armor, not much has changed in the way they dress you—just more skin as you grew up. Now they have more to work with than they did when you were fourteen. The same stylist. The same mentor. Different district partner. Brutus—probably your closest friend of the Victor’s, since he is your neighbor.

You were so angry when you got back from your Games—couldn’t understand why you woke up screaming, when all you ever wanted was to win. So why did you feel so haunted? But Brutus helped, he made you sane. Or more sane.

You see Finnick—someone you’ve had to stand naked in a room with. Sold and bartered for, but at least you had each other.

“Are you okay?” You ask, not trying to draw attention to you.

“Don’t let him kiss me again.”

“I‘ll try, Finnick.” You can take it, that’s what you tell yourself every second. He’s a couple years older, four years to be exact. Stuck in this nightmare longer, forced longer; and some days, you need him to take it. This party has been hard though, roughly ten people and all of them want a taste. Just sixteen and twenty… Kids… But you’re already pawns, and have been from the moment they announced your names as Victors.

You slip off the sheer robe and immediately met with a round of praise, just enough of a distraction. Just to take the attention away from Finnick. Let them look.

Johanna is there too—in the typical District Seven tree get up. You won’t hear the end of her antics, so you stay away, but naturally you gravitate towards Peeta. Your last encounter stuck in your head, locked in—you wonder if he thinks about you too.

“Hey Pretty Boy, miss me?” He smiles more innocently than before, more than you remember.

“Kinda sucks, huh?” There’s an edge to his tone, but you don’t think anything of it—everyone is on edge right now.

“I was hoping for another chance with the famed Peeta Mellark.” You pause, stepping closer. “I hear you’re engaged.”

“And I heard about what you do with Odair.” You had thought his smile was kind, but it held a double meaning like a double sword. Your smile fades and your expression drops, and you’re met with the cruel reality of your decisions.

“I don’t—That really doesn’t matter.”

“If you do it with him, and me, then I bet you do it with everyone.” Whore, that was the word Snow used the first time he partnered you with Finnick.

It echoes; however, what can you do? You go numb, then you harden and walk away. A heart of stone is the only way to survive the things you have done, and gone through. Standing in the chariot, your head held high—you tighten your jaw.

You needed someone. You always need someone, one way or another, but you actually liked Peeta. Liked how he spoke, how he made you smile, but there you go. All the hope of having someone drains away. All at once—you don’t care as much.

“Y/N… You have to smile.”

“I have no reason to smile, Brutus.”

In the arena, you stay close to Finnick—he was supposed to keep District Twelve alive, and you made it your mission to keep Finnick alive. You keep far away from Peeta though. You resent him and his judgement, because your actions kept you alive. You don’t need that from anyone.

“Y/N!” Your body pins to the rocks, digging into your skin, spilling red as your fingers blister under the pressure. Finnick is the one yelling your name you think, the knife still stuck in your side from Cashmere—round and round until you slip. Just a split second of not holding on, is enough to send you flying through the air. A salty spray blinding you as you reach wildly—but there’s nothing to grab.

Finnick… “I couldn’t do this alone… Y/N I really couldn’t, its nice to have someone who understands.” You’ll never see him marry Annie, or have a little Finnick of his own. You lose sight of him on the Cornucopia, and pray he’ll be able to hold on a little longer.

Brutus… “Y/N, you made it all okay. Like I wasn’t alone.” Maybe Brutus makes it out of this, you tried desperately to reach for anything, but there is nothing to grab.

“Immerse yourself in the moment, the Hunger Games are an honor, and you should be honored to train as a potential tribute. Next to none of you will be chosen, but a select few will bring honor and glory to District two. Prepare yourself, you will be broken down and then built up into the perfect tribute. Look around, you’re no longer friend, but instead, competitors. Fight well, earn your place in history.” You always believed the Hunger Games were righteous until you won—then it really became twisted. Because kids are just kids, until they’re not.

Peeta… “For some reason, I thought you were scary. But you’re not.” His fingers rub against your bare shoulder, brushing the skin with care. He was the first to show you love, real love—or what love could taste like. He didn’t ask anything of you, only to exist.

“I’m terrifying.”

“No you’re beautiful.”

Your head smacks against the rocks, at least that’s what it feels like because you’re not sure. The whole world, has gone black.

When Finnick feels the world stop spinning—when the rocks stop burning the palms of his hands. He launches into a search for you. “Y/N!” Bu his search is a blind one, because you don’t speak. Or yell for help. You are just gone. “Y/N!” Why isn’t anyone helping? Why—your Y/H/C hair stands out against the dark tones of the ocean. Every time Finnick blinks he is closer to you, he is huffing. Counting the seconds. Drowning kills faster than a blink. Him dragging you to the rocks.

The next time he blinks he is performing CPR, demanding you come back to him. He’s never had to perform CPR on someone that matters to him, its usually just strangers. You come back though, sputtering to life and inhaling a hard breath—one that burns your throat. Too much salt water causing burns to the inside of your cheeks and chest.

Finnick embraces you tight and you melt into your best friend, having tasted what death feels like. It was flashes and bright, and you wanted nothing to do with it. But the moment ends.

“Oh yeah… Nothing’s going on.” You look up at Peeta, getting up too fast, your footing almost sending you back to the ground. But you don’t, you are glaring at Peeta through your vision that continues to go in and out.

“You know what, maybe I am just some whore. Maybe I did what I did, to myself. Created that reputation of mine. But I did everything I did to survive. We did what we did to survive.” You sneer, your head spinning as you stumble back a step. But Finnick puts his hand on your back and keeps you upright, but you shake him off. The whole world is spinning. “And I will be damned before I let some low life from District Twelve shame me.” Then it goes black…

Finnick calling your name, your body on the rocks—his hands cupping the back of your head, fingers coated in thick blood. Your hair drenched. He feels the tears carving up his cheeks, they burn with the salt water. Peeta numb and still as your cannon echoes over the arena. One second you were here, fighting for the right to just exist without shame. The next you are gone, your best friend—your person, crying. Begging.

That’s the thing about blunt force trauma, you never know how long you’re going to last.

.

.

.

.

Your death haunted Peeta, stuck with him and never seemed to get easier. He couldn’t rationalize how he treated you, or explain away the pain he caused. He partially blamed, no completely blamed himself. Maybe if he had just listened. Heard you out, you wouldn’t have stood up so quick or pushed yourself too far… Maybe you would have lasted a little longer, but you died. Just like that. There and gone.

He asked Finnick in the tunnels, if it was real—if that really happened. It was the only nightmare that wasn’t glossy, it was untouched. Just painful and blistered, that’s why it was left alone to stay there.

You took the force of Panem. Of men and women who felt entitled to your time. Of President Snow. Of judgement. Of a lot. Of Peeta… You were the victim of blunt force trauma long before it killed you, that was the worst part.

“Real…” He whispers to himself, sitting on the porch—wondering what could have been. All the what ifs. He never had a chance to get to know you, all Peeta knew was he liked you. He liked the way you carried yourself. What you stood for. He imagines he would have fallen in love with given the chance, if time would have permitted it.

That was his blunt force trauma. An injury that’ll slowly bleed him dry without there ever being a visible wound. The fact that he might have been the reason you slipped, that he might have pushed you a little too far.

[twistedyanposts]

I'm an enabler, so let's say that in the yan self-aware verse, the characters aren't aware of how their chapter ends.

Which means the moment you're popped in there instead of Yuu, Riddle establishes a new Heartslabyl cast rule: The player is not to be left on their own.

Whether they know they were designed to be your first dorm dealt with or not doesn't matter to them in the slightest. If they don't know, then they believe that you chose them! If they do, then whatever highest power there is in the world picked them to watch over you! Either way, it was meant to be!

The regular NPCs of the world don't see you as who you really are. To them, there's no difference between you and Yuu. Tragic, really. But it helps them keep your existence in their world under the radar.

Ace and Deuce are the only ones in your class, and after that you get passed off to either Cater or Trey for club time. Trey knows they couldn't hide you from Rook if they tried, and Cater has a feeling Lilia already knows...meanwhile, Kalim is pretty oblivious. You aren't meant to know him yet, so while he feels something is off about you, something that makes him so much happier whenever Cater brings you to their club meetings, he can't quite put his finger on it.

When Ruggie is supposed to use his Unique Magic to steal Grim's sandwich, he ends up distracted and going back empty-handed. Not that Leona's too upset, because the news he carries with him is so much more interesting.

Plans have changed a little bit. The Magift tournament is tossed out the window, due to a much more appealing prize. The NPCs of Savanaclaw are pretty confused as to why they're specifically targeting members of Heartslabyl now, but to hell with it. Boss' orders, right?

In fact, Magift is supposed to be a no-holds barred game, ain't it? Well, now they've got a bone to pick with a specific dorm. Why not cripple them in advance, and prepare themselves for the hunt?

Ruggie is more than happy with the change of plan. Or at least, he is eventually. Because the more time he spends stalking after their newest prey, the oblivious first years you're always hanging around with, the more time he spends in your presence. Even if it is further away than he'd like...

Maybe it's because they drew power from you behind the screen before your appearance in this world, but for the folks who know who you really are, you're like a beacon of energy. For the hyena who's been starved for just about everything his whole life, living off of scraps, having you in front of him is a buffet that replenishes itself faster than he can eat it. His heart has never felt so full!

Jack was never on board with his dorm leader's original plan, no matter how much respect he used to have for him. As for the new one...it's a bit more complicated.

Sure, he resents Heartslabyl for keeping you away from the rest of them. What the hell! They didn't honestly think they could keep it up forever, did they? And it wasn't fair, either! It wasn't like they were the only people who had your attention. Main Story or no Main Story, you gave yourself to more than just their dorm, so to keep you all to themselves was just...agggh!

On the other hand, you had chosen on your own not to go to the other dorms, either...not that that was a bad choice. The other dorms weren't exactly full of trustworthy people. His own included. The path Leona is trying to lead them down has got to be the wrong choice. If you thought they were the best option, you would have gone with them! Riddle was able to see the error of his ways before...but so can Jack! So he'll prove to you that he can be trusted on his own, without the rest of his dorm! Then he can also protect you!

Last but certainly not least, Leona. He's less subtle once their goals have changed. Let Riddle show up, so long as he brings you with him. Hell, he'll take on the whole dorm at once as long as you're the honored guest. After the stunt they pulled, they deserve to all be turned to sand.

Something in the air had been off for a while, not quite putting him on edge, but more than enough to grab his attention. It was honestly kind of irritating, the way it kept him from being able to drift off like usual.

Looking back on it, he should've gotten off his ass and went looking for the source. Would've saved him a lot of trouble. At least now he gets to kill two birds with one stone. He won't make the same mistake those pesky herbivores did.

Once he's put them in their place, you won't be leaving. Ever.

After all, it's hard to be second place when you're the only one competing.

[aquapede]

ok wait. i think i might be onto something here. i think i know why queen constantly ignoring ralsei is highlighted so much.

but to explain that i think i need to first explain the thought process that led me here, bc otherwise i sound insane. but i might sound a little insane getting there so--bear with me here

so, first off, ralsei is FULL of metaphors for kris.

to list a few: feeling abandoned and alone in a tiny town, waiting for someone to arrive to give them a feeling of purpose either in the form of a prophecy or a vacation, kris' adoration of asriel manifesting as wanting to be like him as much as possible, and ofc how ralsei just...looks like the other dreemurrs but with red/pink horns. he doesn't have to be their old headband to be a pretty clear parallel to them.

ok im putting the rest of this under the cut bc WOW it gets long from here

so, with the kris->ralsei parallel down, let's move to a similar topic rq

by the time dr takes place, toriel is smothering kris in attention in the aftermath of her divorce and asriel's departure to college. she says herself that she feels lonely with only the two of them at home:

and the only way she thinks she can bond with kris is through their shared memories of the family that tied them together.

queen reflects that in a more cartoonish and exaggerated way, like with her only trying to have a truce with kris once she knows the two of them are alone, or how she tries to use reminiscing on the arcade game in the cyber field to bring them closer. and she isn't lonely in the sense she's alone, she thinks no one understands her or what she's doing, and thus, is emotionally alone.

kris does seem to genuinely want to connect with queen, too, even making a move towards the smaller arcade cabinet without our input.

and it goes hand-in-hand w/ toriel's hinted-at alcohol abuse how queen only becomes visibly drunk once, in a scene where only kris is around.

so, let's take all of this a step further. if queen's behavior towards kris is indicative of how toriel treats kris now, and ralsei is a parallel to kris, i don't think it's a far leap to assume queen just straight up forgetting ralsei exists is how toriel used to treat kris, before asriel and asgore left and she had no one else in the family to turn to.

and i dont think this is malicious on any end! just to be clear!

queen seems to not have any ill will towards ralsei. like at all. she doesn't hurt him or try to control him after realizing she doesn't have a room for him.

but her immediate next action after realizing that she didn't know what to do with him was...to shove the responsibility of taking care of ralsei onto swatch/the swatchlings, the other major power(s) of the mansion.

and in this fantasy world where she's the villain, yeah, thats a good thing! but in a less literal sense, she put the 'burden' of taking care of him on someone else because she's too busy thinking about and accommodating for the lightners (or, asriel) to properly pay attention to ralsei. she doesn't know enough about him to give him anything he wants.

then, in her giga fight, queen briefly mentions ralsei (most likely to try and appeal to him) but can't even remember his name.

and ralsei can't find anything to say about queen in his toast besides how she shunted him into his role as a servant.

they're both content having their only common ground be their care for the lightners (or, the other dreemurrs) and neither really make a move to make their relation deeper than surface-level.

it's played for laughs but if this is genuinely the connection we're supposed to draw it's...sad.

and, obviously if this is meant to be a parallel to toriel's previous behavior, it probably wasn't as cartoonish as queen displays it, but the general idea it's giving is sad as hell, both for what it means for ralsei and for what it means for kris.

and if ralsei has memories of neglect alongside his whole being alone all his life thing....no wonder he's clingy.

tl;dr toriel is possibly making up for her previous neglect and ralsei is the way this is illustrated

[slasherscream]

Do a hickey prank on the crazy boys or if their s/o is a cam girl/guy/wtv!

crazy ass boys gang + doing tiktok hickey prank

billy loomis: Only reason to pull this prank is because you don't feel like living anymore. If you wanted to die so bad you could have just asked him. He clocks the hickey instantly. He knows where he leaves his marks. This one is unfamiliar and thus, it isn't his. You're lucky it pisses him off so much that he confronts you immediately. If he wasn't in love with you he would have just started silently plotting to murder you. Cheating is an unforgivable crime to him. "Who is it, huh? Who the fuck gave you that?" You've never started wiping makeup off faster. "It was a prank! It was a prank, Billy! Look, look." He'll have to smear the makeup himself before he believes it isn't real but once he does? Silent treatment. "Billy? Billy, I said I'm sorry!" Should have thought this prank through.

josh washington: Heartbroken. Going into the prank you weren't sure how Josh was going to react. That only made you want to do it even more. It will take him a while to notice. You almost think he's not gonna see it at all. When he finally spots it, you two are cuddling. "Baby?" You make a small noise of acknowledgment, focused on moving closer. "Yes, Josh?" There's a noticeable pause. "What is this?" He asked. "What's what, Baby?" When he pokes your neck, you remember the prank and your head shoots up to look at him. He's got the saddest, most puppy-that-just-got-kicked expression you've ever seen. "It was a prank! It's makeup, baby. I'm sorry." The relief is instant. "I'll remember this." He says. "No! Josh, I'm sorry, don't." It's too late, since you're suddenly so interested in pranks, he's happy to indulge you.

stu macher: Another wild card. The downside is he is completely in the know about TikTok pranks, so your hickey has to be top-notch convincing. You enlist the help of a friend who is really into makeup to accomplish your task. The day goes by without Stu mentioning the hickey once, even though it's brightly on display. You're baffled, but figure he assumed it was a hickey he gave you and forgot about. When you climb into bed that night, hickey wiped clean, you find out how wrong you were. "Oh, so it wasn't real." Stu says, looking you over. "So, you did notice! Why didn't you react?" You laugh. "Oh, trust me, babe. I was gonna react." He laughs too, but you are not laughing with him. You're just lucky no one got caught in the crossfires of Stu's jealousy.

jd/jason dean: Why would you do this? Does danger turn you on? This man is liable to burn the entire town you live in into ash at the drop of a hat but if you want to play with him go ahead. The moment he sees the mark he stops dead in his tracks. You were sitting at your desk, busy doing work and unaware. He watches you, cracking his neck and thinking to himself 'what next'. You turn around, sensing eyes on you and jump. You're about to be relieved that it's just JD but the look on his face kills that feeling. You're wondering where this quiet rage is stemming from before you remember the little prank you'd been trying to pull. "It's makeup! It's a joke! Calm down." The look of an angry predator takes a second to fall from his face. Finally, he laughs, the sharp noise fills the room. "Why don't we get you all cleaned up so I can get started on giving you the real thing?" He doesn't want to hear any whining out of you, no matter where he puts his hickeys.

kevin khatchadourian: The game you're playing is baffling. Whatever reaction you're going to get, if you get one at all, is not going to be to your liking. You're probably doing this prank because Kevin has been neglecting you. If it's attention you want, it's attention you'll get. "What is that?" His voice is low, and you jump, not realizing how close he'd gotten. "What's what?" Wrong anger. He yanks your head back so that you're looking at him. As aesthetically appealing as Kevin's eyes are, the emotion, or, more often than not, the nothingness behind them makes eye contact unsettling. Right now, though, he looks livid. There's a tension in his jaw that makes your blood run cold. "It's makeup! It's makeup." You go to wipe it away, but your hand is intercepted by Kevin's. He rubs at the spot himself. You wince at the harshness of his touch but don't dare complain. The mark smears beneath his fingertips, and he stops. "Now, why would you do a thing like that, hmm?" You're wondering the same thing. "Need some attention, sweetheart?" The nickname falls from his lips like acid. He pushes you in the direction of your bed and you fall forward helplessly. You wish you knew him well enough to know what he'd do next.

nathan prescott: Situation nuclear everyone! Try and stay calm. Focus on getting somewhere safe to avoid the fallout. This man instantly spots the hickey and blows up. You're lucky you have time to drag him into your room as the shouting starts. "Are you FUCKING serious right now?" He screams. You endure the onslaught of verbal abuse in silence. All the while thinking, 'now why would I do some stupid shit like this?' "Nathan, please calm down." You say. "Don't you tell me to calm down-" "Nathan-" "-you whore!" "Whoa! Hey! Chill the fuck out!" Now you're both mad (like you didn't start this whole thing.) Meanwhile, someone heard the shouting and went to get Victoria. Amidst the shouting she figures out what the fight is about and rolls her eyes. The hickey is clearly fake. "She's pulling a low brow prank, Nathan." Victoria says, crossing the room to smear the mark. Now you're fighting about something else entirely. At least he doesn't think you're a cheater.

sebastian valmont: Knows it's a prank instantly. He's seen too many hickeys to get fooled. You'll get a double take out of him, sure, but otherwise? You're gonna wind up the one getting teased. "Needed some attention, honey?" "Shut up, Sebastian." "No, baby come back. Have I been neglecting you?" He chases you out of the room, the both of you laughing your heads off.

david mccall: He isn't aware of the trend, but he figures out the hickeys fake very quickly. Not to say he didn't get insanely pissed off. The rage he felt was indescribable, but he crossed the room in silence and went to touch the mark. When the makeup immediately came off against his thumb he sighs in relief. He didn't know what he was going to do. "What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack? Huh?" Somehow, he manages to make his tone playful as he gently shakes your head. You'll even giggle at the way he dramatically monologues about his pain. Everything happened so fast the rage you saw wasn't able to sink in.

[jarofstyles]

YES YES NERD HARRY DROP THAT SMUT PIECE RIGHT NOW PLS PLS PLS 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Indeed we will! It’s been a bit since we’ve had some good smut blurb.

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

Warnings?- slight exhibitionism

—-

“Keep playing that video game. I want to see if you can keep that focus while I suck your cock.”

Harry’s throat bobbed as he fiddled with the controller.

This was hard. Way harder than he realized it would be. With Y/N on her knees, his pants around his ankles, the game going on the screen in front of him, and the cursing and stupid smack talk from the guys on his head set, he was suddenly enveloped in a plushy, warm mouth and it all felt fuzzy.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, glasses a bit lower on his face than usual. His eyes were on the screen but a bit hazier than normal, making her feel a bubble of pleasure. She always distracted him, she was his favorite and he couldn’t ever resist her mouth.

“Harry! Where the fuck are you?” He was snapped out of his bubble of pleasure as his name was called over the head set.

“S-Sorry, M’on level 3. Come find me up there.”

It was hard to think about anything but the hot and wet suction on his cock. Especially when she dipped her head down a bit more and took it deeper into her mouth. Y/N’s mouth was immaculate. Every time he got it, he was shocked at the fact that she was so eager to take it.

In contrast, Y/N loved sucking him off. Feeling the weight of his length on her tongue, the taste, adding in she must have some oral fixation… she was beyond eager to please him. His reactions were the best part though.

His jaw clenching and his stomach tensing when she got to a spot he particularly liked, or when he would curse under his breath and grip her hair firm. One of her favorites was when he would take control and fuck her mouth, lazily thrust his hips into her throat and make her gag a little bit. Taking that pleasure. That wasn’t super often, but she loved it.

She pulled off of his cock and looked up at his face, his eyes on the screen and the clicking of buttons above her head. Her hand gripped him and she spit thickly on to the length, letting her fingers collect it and spread it all over the hot skin while her mouth suckled at the sensitive tip.

Harry groaned quietly, looking down for a moment to see her pretty eyes looking up at him and the soft soft of her slick hand moving on the length. It felt so fucking good. Especially knowing that she was, in theory, doing it without a care where people could hear.

“Are you alright Harry?” A voice came from his headset, irritating him from the distraction. He wanted to hear her mouth more but, he had promised this game.

“Mmm.. yeah? I’m good. Really good.” He cleared his throat, leaning further back on the chair and spreading his thighs further so Y/N could scoot closer to his body. This delighted her, sinking her mouth down as he lowered his hands to rest on the back of her head. His controller was held between them, but he liked the contact.

Gently, he pushed her down a bit with the heels of his hand, encouraging her to take more. Obviously it was arousing the both of them, a soft whine coming against his cock as Y/N did as told and began to fully suck. Messily, bobbing her head up and down as the dribble dripped down his cock and towards his balls.

Y/N was focused on it, and Harry could feel the effort. Her lips dragging over the length, her sweet whimpers and letting herself be messy and drool all over his cock, the tongue lulling over the underside… safe to say this was heaven.

His breathing was heavier and he nudged the mic away from his face, head rolling against the back of the seat. The hot suction of her mouth over and over made his vision fuzzy. He got off on her delighted soft noises he didn’t even think she was aware of making. Y/N genuinely enjoyed sucking him and that only made it better for him. Loving pleasing her and feeling her excitement as her hands explore him.

The burning in his stomach was rising, trying to focus on the chatter in his ear and the explosions on the screen but the sight in his lap was much more appealing to him. The glistening of her swollen lips as they moved up and down, seeing how wet she had gotten him with her spit and her fingers fixed around him, her lashes touching her sweet cheeks, it was the filthiest, most beautiful thing he got to see today.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, hips moving up and sinking deeper into her throat. The hand on his thigh tightened, a weak moan vibrating around his cock as he bit his lip and rolled his head back to avoid groaning loudly. The slick sound of her mouth and hand working him into one of the hottest places was getting him closer to his end.

“I’m- im almost done.” He said out loud, eyes hazy and looking down at her. Of course his buddies thought it was for the game, but he was warning her as well. Orgasm bubbles in his stomach, balls full of cum for her and wet with her spit.

That’s what she wanted.

Y/N looked up as she pulled off for a moment, speaking with her lips pursed against his tip. “In my mouth.” She purred, dripping some more spit on to the already soaked length and letting him watch it drip down. “Want it in my mouth, baby.” Her lips dragged over the slit, smearing his arousal and her own wetness over her mouth. The tip was sucked into it, eyes lazily looking up at him and seeing his fucked out face.

Harry was flushed, jaw clenched tight and glasses a bit foggy. They were promptly pushed up into his hair ,as he wanted an unobstructed view of her, the hand around him making a filthy click with each wet pass. He truly was fucking gorgeous, and Y/N knew she was a lucky bitch for getting to be the only one to see it.

Keeping her voice down, she pulled off of him again with a gentle ‘pop’ sound, shifting on her knees.

“Please, cum f’me, baby.” She cooed, stroking fast. Hand twisting just so, his hips bucking into it as his mouth fell open. “Want it all over my tongue, Daddy. You’ve been so nice, lettin’ me suck you while you play your own game. I want my reward for being good and patient.”

The whimpery tone was something that sent him over the edge many times, and she knew that. Y/N could feel him pulsing in her hand, pushing her mouth down and taking him as deep as she could, bobbing her head a few times and feeling smug when he let out a growl of arousal.

The other players thought it was of frustration, but Harry threw down his controller and grabbed a handful of her hair. Pushing his hips up as he felt the sweet bubble of heat rise.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Y/N let her mouth be used, happy that she got him to break in this little game. Her mouth was better than any game, and he was to be reminded of it. She choked a bit on him, eyes tearing up as he thrust into her mouth and his thigh went rigid under her hand.

“Shit.” His hiss and the throb of his cock clued her in, pulling back slightly as he began to cum. The bubble popped, making the heat wash through his whole body as he let go.

Y/N was his good girl, catching the tip with her lips and letting the stream coat her tongue. Her wet eyes looking up at him a bit wild but ultimately satisfied, moaning against him as it was given to her. Her tongue ran over the tip, hand continuing to stroke and get every drop she could before pulling off.

Harry was already gone, but when she looked up at him and opened her mouth… he was wrecked. Seeing the pool of cum in her mouth, he twitched in her palm and let out another stream of curses. He knew what she was waiting for.

Pushing the mic away, he leaned forward and tilted her chin slightly, gathering up some spit and letting it drip into her mouth. Her thighs clenched as she felt it hit her tongue and his knuckle urged her mouth closed, palm stroking her cheek as he urged her to swallow.

When she did, he grinned lazily and pulled her up to kiss him, not at all shy about running his tongue into her mouth and tasting himself.

Ignoring the buzzing coming from the headset, he pulled her into his lap. “God. I fucking love you.” He laughed out breathily, stroking his thumb under her chin and wiping away any residual wetness. Her mouth caught it, sucking it into her swollen lips before pulling back to smooth his hair and place the glasses back on his face gently.

“Mm. I love you too. But you better get back to your game. Think you’re winning.”

[iambilliejeanok]

💸✨Sugar Daddy✨💸

Character Mashup

Warnings: 18+, brat taming, nsfw,

So tired rn

Hatake Kakashi

What’s a few yen to Roku-mf- Daddy!

First of all, the minute you two become official, there’s an immediate deposit in your bank account. He doesn’t ever wanna see you lack ever again as long as you’re with him.

You use his bank account and his only. Buy whatever you want baby, the world is yours. 

Go buy your mama a house💀💀 go buy yourself a car💀 he doesn’t give a fuck. Money means nothing to him and he can’t help that he has a ton of it. His father left him quite a handsome amount of money and property, and he’s also accumulated a ton as a businessman. He’s a very smart man with a big bank account. You’ve hit the jackpot with this man.

He pays you your monthly allowances but expects you to use his card anyway. He also however, expects you to use that money to keep yourself, pretty, soft and groomed for him.

He expects you to have your hair and nails done at all times and that there’s not one hair on your body. He wants you to put the money he pays you to good use. Please always smell good for him, even before bed.

Nsfw

In the bedroom though this man gives you hell!!!!!! He made it very clear to you that he needs a sugar baby, for nothing but a shit ton of sugar. However, whenever and wherever he wants it.

He needs a pretty princess like you around that he can use to his liking. He doesn’t care about what you have to offer, he cares about what he can do to you, and he doesn’t play the safe word game. You signed the contract and he even made it extra crystal clear for you after you read it, that he simply wants to entertain himself after a long day of being your Hokage.

It went something like this;

I will make you cum as much as I like. I will also edge or completely deny you if and when I feel like it.

I want you from all of your holes, that includes your mouth, anus and vagina.

I would like to explore different kinks with you, so cross off the following kinks that do not appeal to you, (which kinda looks something like this;

-blood play

-sensory play

-nipple play

-pain okay

-knife play

(The list was super long actually. You’re scared everyday.)

Expects you to engage in aftercare with him and stay with him for as long as he needs you. But when he’s done please go. He’ll be seeing you soon.

Expects you to attend all the events, functions and meetings he has if he wants you to. You’re even on his insurance girl😩

He’s also okay with having you as his sugar baby until he grows too old and dies really. He’s not interested in doing this with different women all the time and he has no interest in pursuing dating.

Overall, he’s extremely generous so you get to live an extremely lavish lifestyle and also have enough to provide for all your loved ones too.

Be his good little sugar baby and he can promise you without a doubt he’ll be the best sugar daddy in the world.

Uchiha Madara

HEY BIG SPENDER! SPEEEEND A LITTLE TIME WITH ME!😍☺️🥰

He’s so fucking attractive. He’s so stoic and refined, very broad shoulders, with a narrow but stocky build and smells like a heaven you’ve never smelled before.

He’s definitely an important man who you would die to be beside.

He’s well respected across nations.

So let’s just say that you benefit more than just money with him. You gain status, and the opportunity to get into whatever it is you’d like to do.

He’s a big spender for a reason. This man will drown you in money, gifts, orgasms. He’s any woman’s dream sugar daddy. Literally the perfect one.

He loves to go out with you to all your nail, hair and wax appointments. He loves tagging you along with him to whatever he’s got going on and loves to show you off over on his arm.

That’s why it’s important for his baby to look absolutely stunning at all times.

He wants to spend quality time with you though and you better make him feel like this is real or else he’s going to loose interest and let you go.

He’s also the type to prefer to have you for the long run.

All your bills are tied to his bank account so you don’t have to worry about paying any bills.

He would like you to live with him but you still can lead your own life and live where you want. As long as you’re available whenever he needs.

He lets you buy whatever really. As long as you’re not running around doing senseless shit like buying a sixth car for no reason. If you’re not doing that you can spend his money as you please.

Nsfw

This man can laaaast you hear me? He’s a tough one to satisfy and will fuck you out of consciousness.

Loves eating your ass out more than anything in the world. He’s obsessed with you obviously since you’re so beautiful, but he thinks the smell of your sex and your little anus is deliciously intoxicating.

He loves sniffing his fingers all day long when he fingers you lol💀💀

He also makes you cum until your crying a begging him to give you a break.

Your orgasms are growing so intense each time feels like a punch in the gut and your torso hurts so much from how much you contract amidst all your convulsing.

Loves to play with you like it’s a little game, that even when you’re gripping and pulling his hair, then pushing him away he’s just going to hold you down more. He’s so strong that he’s able to easily restrict you when he wants.

You’ve bitten yourself and broken your own skin trying to endure those orgasms.

His dick feels absolutely amazing inside of you. He’s nice and fat, also quite the length, so it’s a bit of squeeze but it’s just the fucking right one.

He always makes you feel incredibly good. He also makes you feel more beautiful than you’ve ever felt before with how he touches and handles you.

He lasts a terrifyingly long time,slowly rubbing your back to wake you for round 6😭😭😭😭

He’s a sex addict. You’re his sex doll.

Isn’t too kinky with you but loves to spank you to his liking. He will always stop and give you a nice break when you ask for one, talking to you, soothing you, telling you how much of a pretty and good little girl you are lasting this long.

Lasted? You can barely breathe.

Loves for you to eat his ass too. Please suck his balls, massage his shaft and lick his anus while you’re kneeling between legs, one of his feet resting on a higher platform to give you more access.

He will also hold you’re head in places and run his ass along your face. He will literally cum so hard like this. He’ll groan your name and pant about how precious you are.

Loves to ride your face too. Resting on his knee beside your face, rubbing himself while looking down at your pretty face eating his ass. His eyes are rolling the back of his head, coming so fucking hard.

Drilling your shit all night long.

You literally cannot move when he’s done with you. Not for a long while.

Overall he’s pretty nice to be with. Cares about you like a partner…maybe he is paying for a lover and not a sugar baby.

Wear cute little dresses or skirts in public please. So he can put his hand up your skirt and make you drip whenever and wherever he wants.

Also loves for you to sit on his face in between meetings. He’s so addicted to you it’s exhausting.

Kento Nanami

Mr Grumpy pants here loves to scold you about how you’re using your money.

He lets you use his card so he can monitor your daily purchases

You can spend as much you like on whatever, but he just need to know that you’re going to school.

He’s only a sugar daddy because he wants to support people like you and benefit in ways that would greatly satisfy him.

So yes he will spoil you but he still gives you shit if you don’t take your life seriously.

Loves to cuddle more than he loves his life. Please he needs a ton of physical attention. You swear he’s like a damn baby. He needs you to cuddle him when he’s sleeping, when he wakes up, after sex, sitting on his lap when he’s eating, maybe feeding him sometimes if he’s in the mood.

Needs to have his hands on you whenever you’re together. Constantly grabbing your ass, your waist, breasts, kissing you. All of it. Give it to him!

Nsfw

He’s a very organized guy. He’s set up a schedule for you to see your working hours. You work crazy shifts that you might just be apart of his life for a living. You don’t mind though. At least for now.

Spanks the life out of you whenever he sees fit. Always makes you ride his face afterwards.

Loves to see you struggle. He will deliberately overstimulate you after kneeling between your legs and holding you open and on his shoulders for him to gobble at while you have zero balance.

You literally cry like a baby whenever he fucks you. He’s so good at it and you’re grateful that mr grumps is so good at making you feel amazing.

Literally uses your body, fucking you like a rag doll each time. You’re so sore and tired afterwards, the sleep so good you’re literally drooling lol.

He’s the best way to end your long week really. Because you get to wake up in his strong arms, feeling so warm and safe, you just wanna sleep like this all day long.

Please cook him breakfast and sit on his lap🙂

[hyatoro]

Omega! Yuri HC

Omega Yuri is just as much of a brat as usual, but with a bit more “how could anyone love me aside from my family”. He knows he’s a little shit, even as an adult, and while he stands by being himself he does have doubts from the whispers that he’s too much of a hassle. 

Your job is to prove him wrong. And you do it so easily because you understand what he really means when he gives you his usual snark in public. 

When you first met he was so thrown off by how good you smelled that he distanced himself immediately. That shocked you and you thought you smelled awful to him, even doing a quick smell check and apologizing. He quickly corrected that misunderstanding, but only to the point where he lied and said you just startled him instead of telling the truth that your scent was super appealing. He wears a scent patch though so you can’t exactly praise his own scent yet. 

At the start of the relationship he’s hyped beyond imagination and his heart sings every time you hold his hand. Little kisses to the usual scent spots fluster him, but he would never tell you to stop. All he asks is that those moments are kept in private. 

When he leaves your side for competition he insists on you scenting all his pajamas. He wears his patch religiously and his outdoor clothes aren’t scented by you because he knows it’ll just make him miss you when he doesn’t have the time for it. His night clothes are free game though and that’s when he allows himself to miss you and to call home.

[smallestapplin]

I absolutely ADORE the hybrid!reader AUs💕💕 I was wonder if maybe you could one with Ingo (BW or PLA) and Emmet (seprate or together, your choice!) with a Zoroark/Hisuian Zoroark reader.

Would reader play into the mischievous or baneful like nature, playing tricks or casting illusions? Or are they just big dorks running around playing pranks for fun?

- ☕️🐈‍⬛️Anon

I’m going feral for this oh sweet Sinnoh thank you! I love any kind of hybrid au! (Ngl I was half tempted to make twin wardens, but decided not to.)

-

-

🔲Warden Ingo🔲

- hybrids in Hisui were treated like some kind of royalty and usually given important positions. Mainly from the clans however.

- The warden had noticed good few in Jubilife fear hybrids.

- But meeting you gave him mixed feelings.

- Zoroarks are highly intelligent and when using illusions mimic human speech.

- And even then they usually stay in the icelands. He never thought he’d see one, let alone a hybrid in the Highlands.

- True to the dual ghost typing nature your form was almost felt uncanny.

- Your hair was it’s own color aside from a few red tips, large fluffy ears poking up in alertness, two white markings on either side of your face, the whites of your eyes are yellow, your nails resemble claws, and something about you feels….haunting?

- The warden for once was struck with fear. True he has usually stuck to the highlands and can’t remember everyone, but you don’t look like someone who’d love the village or clan settlements.

- You walked right up to the frozen man, and carefully unfolded your arms, revealing a wounded zoura.

- “I…apologize if I’ve scared you, I was taking the back roads so to speak, but my companion here got themself hurt, can you help me?”

- “O-oh…of course! Follow me.”

- Ingo watches you cautiously. Zoroarks are known to cause destruction, said to be the embodiment of death itself.

- But you follow him quietly. Your footsteps make no sound, he only knows you’re there by your gentle reassurance to your smaller companion.

- “I’m deeply sorry this took so long, I never really battle in the mountains so most of my good supplies are here.”

- He lets you enter his cabin.

- Ingo is almost suspicious at how mild mannered you are.

- “It’s okay, thankfully they aren’t fatally injured.”

- “This will be cold.”

- With a few sprays of the potion it was a waiting game.

- “Thank you for your help, most wouldn’t have.”

- “Even the pearl clan?”

- “Mm I’ve seen the homes they have, yet I feel like they fear me as much as my Pokémon friends.”

- “I’m warden Ingo by the way, just so you know you can come to me if you ever need help again.”

- “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

- He thought that would be the last of you but you’d come back, sometimes with the zoura or alone.

- You two end up bonding over being more or less outsiders. And he got to learn a lot about your specific hybrid!

- “So you can do illusions as well?”

- “Of course, what kind of Zoroark would I be if I couldn’t?”

- “Is this an illusion?” The man gestures to you.

- “No, this is how I truly look, is it not appealing?” You tease.

- And it gives you the reaction you wanted.

- His face instantly blooms in color in his panic “no that’s not it all! You’re very lovely! Hauntingly beautiful even! I didn’t mean to insult you as such, please forgive me.”

- “…..you think I’m lovely?”

- Dating you however was different.

- You had a temper, not a violent one, you never lashed out at him or his Pokémon, but Melli wasn’t shared the same fate.

- The boastful warden was bragging about how the diamond clan was so much better and he was prettier than Ingo, so it’s perfect.

- Melli’s insult to Ingo didn’t go unheard by you.

- Ingo, his Machamp, and Tangrowth were holding you back, you had gotten close enough to claw at Melli, but he backed away at just the right moment to avoid it.

- But he got a verbal thrashing from you.

- Melli learned even hybrids are much like their full Pokémon counterparts

- Ingo doesn’t have to worry too much about your anger, thankfully.

- Your protectiveness is also greatly appreciated in this environment!

- Your senses are much better than his. You can warn him about moments and sounds that he wasn’t even hearing! You are truly amazing!

- Your playful nature is more verbal than pranks.

- Ingo is a tired man so he is grateful for that.

- However your zoura thinks otherwise.

- You double over, laughing loudly at your little zoura’s illusion of a scared villager, pretending to fall so dramatically (he feels like he’s seen this of a moving picture box.)

- The pearl clan fears you but also has insanely high respect for you. Deeming you a protector of sorts. A guide if you will.

- Helping lost travelers find their way back or to hide from blizzards until it’s safe.

- And Ingo couldn’t be prouder.

-

🔳Emmet🔳

- you and him probably get along dangerously well.

- Hybrids are common in the modern era, so seeing you wasn’t much of a shock. Just Emmet had never seen a Zoroark hybrid.

- Most noticeable was the darker black tips of your hair and the red corners of your mouth, such a lovely vibrant color, large fluffy pointed ears moving with each new sound, and the red claw like nails.

- He sees you a few more times in the subway. You seem to know where you’re going so he doesn’t stop.

- Until he sees you with a child, you appear to be asking questions and getting no verbal response back, yet you know what they are saying?

- “I am Emmet! I’m a subway boss, do you two need help?”

- Your glare was sharp, it almost made him break customer service mode.

- The child in front of you tugs on your shirt to get your attention. You two seem to have a silent conversation before you cave.

- “I’m sorry, but yes we do, my nibling here is uncomfortable with the train, nothing I say or do works.”

- “Oh! A first time traveler, how exciting! If you’d like I can happily tell you how it all works and goes together. Maybe having someone to do all the talking can help distract you!”

- And like that the smiling subway boss explained everything there is about trains in general and this specific model in the subway station. You were surprised at how well this worked.

- You nibling walked around the cart holding the man’s hand, looking at him all starry eyed at the cool facts and details about trains.

- He continued that for the whole ride to your destination.

- “I hope you enjoyed our in-depth tour! And I hope to see you again soon!”

- You delayed your steps when getting off the train.

- “Hey, thank you for that, I know they aren’t much of a talker, but it means a lot you did that for them. I owe you one.”

- “Oh nonsense! I’m always happy to help.” His grin was infectious.

- And with that you two went about your respective days.

- You returned with a thank you gift. A large plush Joltik with a train themed blanket.

- “Oh my, you didn’t have to!”

- “Nah I told you I owe you, and my nibling wouldn’t let me rest until they were sure you knew how thankful we are.”

- “I don’t know what to say! This so amazing! Fantastic! I love it so much I…wait, is that, is this your phone number?”

- “Yup, call me anytime, need someone that needs to be dealt with? I can assure you nothing gets passed a Zoroark.”

- Emmet found it comical that you gave him a ‘call me to beat people up’ card, but was happy.

- And he abused this call. He wanted a new friend! Friends are always fun to have.

- He loves your illusions. He’s always asking you to help him pull a prank on his brother.

- And of course you happily agree to.

- You’ve scared Ingo so many times it’s never not funny.

- Sure you’ve been scolded a bunch for it, but you and Emmet go right back to doing it again.

- Though sometimes you get him too.

- Like pretending to be Ingo and scaring him when he though he was home alone.

- Scaring Emmet is the best thing. He’s rather difficult to truly scare but when you do he is hitting high notes, and jumping onto whatever surface he can to get away.

- He pouts for maybe thirty minutes about it before forgiving you. What can he say, your hurt pouty puppy dog look is too cute to bare!

- Even dating it doesn’t change much, sure more vulnerable moments and twice the affection.

- But still two menaces to society, kissing in the ash fall.

- He’s happy you can keep up with his energetic personality.

- And your family loves him! So it’s an absolute win!

[frenchfrywrites]

Holding their dick while they pee hcs

MINORS DNI

Warnings: pee, piss, urine, etc. very brief dumbification w/satans

Lucifer

Lucifer asks himself two questions when you request to hold his dick while he pees:

Why do you want to do this for him!?! And why does he love it so much?!

Like he acts like he’s indulging your weird requests

But he loves it

He likes the way your hands look around him

He likes how it makes him feel owned

Like it’s not his dick, but yours, and you can do whatever you want with it

And evidently what you want is to hold his dick while he pees

Mammon

He loves this so much that he doesn’t use the bathroom alone anymore

He doesn’t care what anyone else says about it, if you consent: you’re coming in with him

If you’re unavailable, he will hold it

It just doesn’t feel right to do it without you

Sometimes it turns sexual (because he’s a little piss boy who gets so excited by peeing)

But most times it isn’t

He’ll just continue your conversation like you’re hanging out as usual

Expects you to fully take care of him, from unzipping his pants to tucking him in and zipping them right back up again when he’s done

Levi

Levi is embarrassed every single time you do this together

And yet he adores it, and pulls you to the bathroom with him 90% of the time

He doesn’t mind whether or not you talk or don’t, whether you praise or humiliate him, if it turns sexual or not. All that matters is that you’re doing this with him :)

He also likes that he now has two free hands so he can play a little game on his phone while peeing

I also hc that Levi has a shy bladder, and with your help he can pee in public restrooms <3

You might even get this gamer boy to be healthy because he drinks more water in hopes of you holding him more

Satan

He’s a bit hesitant at first, because he can’t really fathom what you’re getting out of it

But after each time he warms up more and more to it

He likes how gentle you are with him

It makes him feel very cared for, and very submissive

Also, if you want to incorporate some dumbification (which Satan would be more than happy with), tell him he’s too dumb to hold his own dick <3

He probably won’t ask you to/let you hold his dick as often as the others, because the act usually turns sexual for him

He just gets so submissive from it, he’ll want you to keep taking care of him, to keep being gentle to him

Asmo

I imagine this first started when he painted his nails but had to pee so he asked you to help him out lmao

He’s not embarrassed or ashamed but he didn’t know he would like it so much

He’ll cherish how very intimate it is

I imagine he’s likely not done this with his other partners before

So it’s something special for the two of you

He doesn’t want it to always be sexual

Although, sometimes he’ll tease/tempt you while you do it, and will get hard afterwards half of the time

He definitely takes selfies of the two of you while you’re doing this that he crops and posts to devilgram

Beel

Surprisingly very fun for him

He would have never seen the appeal in it before you suggested it

Which is why he’s hesitant at first

But he falls in love with it when you press yourself against him and whisper praises about how he’s doing so well

He’ll squirm and blush, not from embarrassment but arousal

He only lets you do it if you have the time/space/privacy to get him off after

Because he will get hard from it

So make sure that you keep aim, or his erection will cause piss to get all over you and him

(but he wouldn’t complain if it did)

Belphie

He asked you to do it first

He framed it like a joke, but he’s serious and very excited when you agree to do it

Therefore he has absolutely no shame, and will ask you every almost every time he has to go

Will fully slump against your body, letting you take care of him

He might try to tease or tempt you while you hold him

Turn the tables, and instead humiliate him for needing your help with something so simple

He will blush and squirm, suddenly so quiet

Most of the time he’ll get turned on by this, though sometimes he doesn’t

So it’s a gamble every time you do it lmao

Diavolo

He asked you, because he saw a video where someone did it, and got curious

Then in the moment, he gets a little shy

He needs heaps of praise in order to relax enough to pee in front of you

Despite his initial shyness he really liked it, and asks you again and again to hold him while he pees

Each time he needs praise to relax

And each time he gushes about how much fun it was afterwards

Endless cycle lol

Sometimes he’ll get hard from your praise instead, so you have to jack him off quick before he can pee

Barbatos

He’s always very nervous about this but excited-nervous, not scared-nervous

He just doesn’t know what to do with himself and it’s very nerve-racking

Unsurprisingly he needs lots of praise

He also becomes bladder shy with you watching over him

And because of that he gets embarrassed

But your gentle caresses and soft praise calm him down enough to pee

The first time he also got nervous because he could feel himself getting aroused and he didn’t know if that was okay or not

Of course you reassured him, praised him, and stroked him off until he came

You don’t do it very often because of how turned on he gets from it each time

Simeon

Oh he was so shy when you first asked him

He still gets shy each time, but becomes more confident over time

He might even get confident enough to start asking you to come in with him

That first time though… I think he probably needed a half an hour of praise and reassurance before he could let go

He gets hard every single time

Because you're holding his dick, and that always gets him excited! Then, letting go feels so good, and the icing on his horny cake is you praising him

He’ll just melt against your body, moaning softly as he relieves himself

Won’t hesitate for a second to start begging and whining for you to help him get off afterwards

Solomon

He was the one to ask you

It was offhand, maybe a little teasing, but he’s fully serious

He gets submissive very fast when you do this

Maybe he’s a little bratty in the beginning, trying to rile you up

But once your hands circle around him, and he fully processes the situation, I imagine he gets very quiet and well behaved

For whatever reason, doing this just gets him in the sub headspace

Like Satan it's just very nice for him to be treated gently and carefully sometimes

Because of all this you probably won’t to do this very often, unless you’re ready to take care of him for a while

[wetotallymessedup]

Nekoma x (Future) F!Manager Reader

A/N: this is almost entirely self indulgent, so... indulge me. 

CW: vague descriptions of anxiety induced thoughts, reader uses she/her pronouns. 

“Finding an extracurricular or joining a club can’t be too hard: just find something. And fast— I’m pretty sure everything is closing up soon.”

Easier said than done months into school, where cliques had already formed and groups had solidified. Wrinkled fliers sat at the bottom of a bookbag, some had been neatly folded but lost to the constant movement of books and notebooks. The school day was coming to an end, and it seemed like there were less options than one would think possible.

Sighing to yourself, it felt like the hopeless feeling in your chest was going to stay. Your family was still hounding you to do some type of after school activities, but any of the options they threw at you just didn’t sound appealing. You walked quietly, glancing into each classroom, some empty, some not. No one really looked up from what they were doing, not that you could blame them.

Guess it’s easier to join a club when you don’t panic at simple social interactions, You mused to yourself, tightening your grip on your bag, You don’t freak others out.

You made your way outside of the school, thanking your lucky stars it was nice out. Seemed like you had created a new routine— wander around after school, awe at some gardens, pet some stray cats, visit some local stores, before making your way home and lying to your family, saying things like:

“I was just talking to different clubs— I wanna make sure I choose the right one.”

“We were discussing their schedules and I’m not sure if it’ll fit mine.”

“The club members were rude, I don’t think I’d turn out great if I joined.”

Lying was becoming second nature and you hated it, but the guilt tripping of your family was worse. Pausing your steps you noticed that standing in the normal path you’d take was a group, from the looks of it some outdoorsy club, talking and laughing loudly. You didn’t want to walk past them, so you turned on your heel, moving to walk the opposite way that you normally did.

You didn’t often walk this way outside of school, so this was a nice change of scenery. And the image wasn’t the only new information your brain was processing. The echoing yells and squeaking of sneakers caught your attention, your gaze being drawn to the gym nearest you. You had never been a fan of sports— no one in your family really played them so you just never cared too much— but whatever was happening was loud and fast paced.

Your curiosity peaked to say the least, plus, you needed to kill time.

So you made your way near, noting you wouldn’t be able to easily peek in through the windows, but lucky for you, the gym door was cracked. Hoping they were all too distracted to notice you, you crept closer, quietly laying your bag down on the concrete. Looking inside, it took you a moment to adjust to all the movement before your eyes.

Oh— the volleyball team. 

You didn’t know too much about volleyball— you knew your school's team used to be a big deal, they had even had their own rival team. You had seen their games on TV in passing, and it had seemed of the more entertaining of sports, and seeing the team before you move and shout the way they were made you agree with that passing thought.

“Damn it!”

The loud shout nearly made you jump, and your gaze was drawn to one of the members. The guy had a bleached mohawk type hairstyle, and you vaguely recognized him. You were both second years, so you’d seen him in passing, and his presence was loud— hard to forget. He was glaring at the ball rolling across the court as if it had personally offended him.

“Brush it off!”

Instead of calming down the guy merely looked more annoyed, pointing an angry finger at the one who had said it— a shorter looking guy, soft sandy blonde hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“I’ve been trying to brush it off all practice!”

The guy being yelled at rolled his eyes, more annoyed that this conversation was happening than being yelled at.

“Then hurry up and get over it.”

He received an annoyed grunt as the guy moved to grab the volleyball, still glaring intensely as he stomped across the gym.

You recognized one person— a tall guy with weirdly spiked, black hair, carrying a ball under his arm, eyes caught on something across the room. 

“Kenma,” Or someone, you mused, “You planning on practicing today?”

Whoever he was speaking to must have responded, cause he just sighed to himself, shaking his head good naturedly. 

“Um,” A voice from outside the gym startled you, and you froze in place, the gentle questioning tone coming from behind you, “Hello?”

You turned quickly, heart hammering in your chest, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught. It was the coach— or one of the coaches, scratching at the back of his head curiously. He had some rough facial hair, and he looked chiseled and relatively intimidating.

What the hell were you supposed to say?

“Did you come to watch them practice?”

You stammered, mouth agape like a floundering fish, eyes darting from him to the pathway behind him, hands clutching almost desperately at the bottom of your blazer. He seemed to notice your nerves, and smiled softly.

“You know it’s far more entertaining to watch inside.” He stepped forward, passing you quickly, hand laying on the side of the door, “Do you want to come in?”

No.

No you did not want to enter a gym filled with strangers and have them all notice you and stare at you and wonder what you were doing there and why you were there—

But wait. Wouldn’t it be weirder if he went inside and said some girl was standing outside and peeking in through the cracked door then ran away after meeting the coach?

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded meekly, reaching down to grab your bag, desperately trying to keep your hands from trembling from anxiety. He smiled at you, reassurance on his face, but he paused before opening the door.

“Were you thinking about joining a club, if I may ask?”

“Oh!” You verbalized your surprise, unsure of what to make of the curious yet hopeful look on his face.

He took that as an answer though, turning towards the entrance and opening the door fully.

“Alright boys,” The gym came to a stand still, and, yup, you regret your decision in not booking it when you had the chance.

They had all definitely seen you now, curious eyes studying the timid girl standing behind their couch. He stepped to the side, allowing you to enter beside him, knuckles turning white from the desperate grip you had on the straps of your bag.

The coach motioned towards you, “This is…” He trailed off, glancing towards you.

Oh— oh you needed to respond.

“Uh— (L/N). (F/N). (L/N) (F/N).” It took you a moment to remember yourself, and you bowed quickly, almost stumbling forward; you could feel your cheeks burning up to the tips of your ears.

Who stumbles over their own introduction this bad?

But the coach didn’t seem to mind, “This is (L/N), she’s going to watch your practice today.”

Kuroo was the only person you recognized by face and name, and he was staring right at you, head tilted curiously. You assumed the other two near him were also third years— your upper classmen were staring at you— were they judging you too? 

“So I expect you all to be on your best behavior,” He put emphasis on his words, and you followed his gaze to the one who had yelled at the ball earlier.

His cheeks were red, probably rivaling the look on your face, and he was staring at you. You could feel yourself tense at being under his gaze, desperately trying to look away and not make eye contact with him. A few of the guys chuckled quietly. 

“And put on a good show,” His voice dropped the serious tone, taking on a light, teasing tone, nodding good naturedly.

The boys nodded, shouts of agreement ringing out before they disbanded. You felt your breath catch as the three upperclassmen walked over, shoulders almost up to your ears as they approached.

The shorter one of the three, the one you had seen earlier, smiled at you, and while the two of you weren’t far from the same height, he still seemed… very intimidating.

“I’m Yaku Morisuke, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You couldn’t form a response, so you stuck to nodding, trying your best to smile back at him. 

“Kai Nobuyuki, it’s good to meet you.”

Kuroo stared down at you, and you felt like a puppy with their tail tucked between their legs. Have you done something wrong? Already?

“Kuroo Tetsuro.” He paused, seeming to try and piece together his next words, “What brings you to our practice?”

You blanched at the question, and your face must have shown it, because Yaku was quick to elbow the taller man. Kuroo jumped at the jab, “Ow— dude.”

“Ignore him.”

The coach stepped forward, finishing his side conversation, “Well it’s not for certain, but if she’s still looking for an afterschool club or such and will have us, we may have found ourselves a manager.”

A manager?

Manager.

You looked towards the older man with wide eyes— that was definitely not the reason you were here. You had come this way to avoid social interactions— and you were failing that miserably. 

However, the eyes of the three before you lit up, small, almost hopeful grins on their faces.

“Yeah?” Kuroo looked down towards you, “You up for manager position?”

“Well,” You swallowed, flinching at your own, small voice crack, “I— I didn’t know you all— that you were— I mean—”

“You don’t need to decide now,” Yaku stepped in to save you from your own floundering words, “Obviously you just met us.”

A whistle was blown, and everyone’s attention was drawn over. An older man was standing on the sides, a lazy, almost cat-like grin on his face, “Alright boys, get yourselves into position. Let’s give our guest a show she won’t forget.”

Kuroo, Kai, and Yaku all bowed towards you, before moving back to the court. You were led over to the other man by Coach Naoi, as he now introduced himself. The older man was Coach Nekomada, and apparently he had been with Nekoma for a while.

“I was wonderin’ if you were ever gonna come inside.”

You felt your blood run cold through your veins, and the embarrassment from earlier was now ten fold.

“I— I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to interrupt or intrude—”

He laughed loudly, “Nonsense! Nothing gets these knuckleheads more fired up than an audience.” A loud yelp was heard, and you turned in time to see the one with the mohawk rubbing the back of his head, seeming to be getting yelled at by Yaku.

You heard Nekomata sigh, “Some more than others.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, he seemed like a tired uncle— or grandfather. He was quiet for a moment, and you turned to watch as the team was split in two, groups on either side of the net.

“So, (L/N), tell me, what all do you know about volleyball?”

“Oh, uh, not much,” You spoke honestly, watching as the ball was set into motion, the sound of sneakers and the ball hitting skin breaking the momentary silence, “I don’t know anyone who plays it… and I never really watched it.”

You weren’t even entirely sure what was happening before you— and now they had their hopes on you becoming their manager? They were to be sorely disappointed. You tried hinting at this to Coach Nekomata, though your eyes were seemingly glued to the game before you.

“I don’t really know… terms or anything,” The ball never touched the ground— and you knew that that was the whole point— but watching it in action was new, “Or the positions.”

Every sport had different positions, different plays, different everything. And you felt like you knew none of them. You frowned, the excitement had seemed to rub off on you, and you were almost… hopeful, watching the ball get closer and closer to touching the ground.

You wanted to witness at least one point get scored before you let them down by saying you couldn’t be their manager. Then you’d just do your best to avoid all of them in school so they didn’t get mad at you or annoyed with you or try and pressure you to join.

“So I’m not sure… how useful I’d be.”

You received a hum in response, “Well, not everyone here started off with all the knowledge they had now, nor the power and capability.”

Watching how they played— how they appeared to move in sync, you doubted that.

“They learned as they played, they’ve failed and hurt themselves, and look at them now.” He sounded proud as he spoke, and the rawness made your heart ache.

You wanted to feel that, about yourself, about an accomplishment of yours. But the pride could be easily diminished, and you let out a soft sigh, “I’m not sure I’d be the best student at this, learning it all to be of any help.”

He didn’t respond, and you stayed quiet, watching the game, noting the annoyed looks on faces as the ball continued to refuse to fall, the shouts and grunts as they moved quickly, but never desperately, never tiredly. 

“I don’t think I’m—”

The echoing of the next move silenced you, and you swore you could feel both impacts of the ball in your chest. The guy from earlier had hit the ball, and it had finally gone over the net, breaking past the others and slamming into the ground. It ricocheted off the floor, smacking into the wall behind them. The sight, the sound, the impact— all those left you stunned, eyes wide in awe at the strength and force before you.

You hadn’t… seen something like that before.

And he looked so proud of himself, scoring the first goal of the game. His side looked excited, energetic. And the others didn’t look disappointed, or upset, they looked hungry, ready to steal that point back.

The excitement that had been steadily growing was practically making you vibrate now, and you could almost feel a smug aura from Coach Nekomata from beside you. He cleared his throat, and you tore your gaze away from the court.

“That wasn’t even the best Yamamoto can do,” His eyes were twinkling, “Not the best the entire team can do.”

You couldn’t leave now— you had to watch the game, to watch the plays. You got why people enjoyed sports— playing and watching them— but now you understood. 

“What,” You licked your lips, “What all does a manager need to do?”

He grinned, turning to look back at the game, “We’ll get to that, but for now, welcome to the Nekoma team, little manager.”

Masterlist

[no-droids]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal​

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you.  Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty.  There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky.  It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running.  Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk.  It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs.  Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day.  You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow.  So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is.  Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you.  Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day.  Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob.  He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him?  At what point does it stop?  You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance.  There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now.  You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!”  It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile.  “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came.  “Osiruu is a few hours that way.  There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital.  I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction.  “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view.  I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted.  You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then.  Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her.  But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be.  Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life.  You never pictured yourself as the fighting type.  When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that.  Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?”  You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile.  “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there.  He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile.  Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend.  “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey!  I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?”  She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by.  “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II.  I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady?  She seems like… you, almost.  Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs.  You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet.  “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible.  You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad?  Are you just an idiot with no hope?  You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes?  You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here.  Plenty.  There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business.  Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong.  There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune.  You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors.  Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic.  The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is.  Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.  You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes.  Fucking shoes, your salvation.  You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many.  Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design.  It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear.  Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up?  And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper.  His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder?  One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to?  That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that.  You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist.  There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss.  Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then.  Through the forest, you suppose.  You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again.  You have a finger point, that’s all you need.  Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over.  It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!”  A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach.  “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it.  “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!”  The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors.  He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit.  “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle.  “Oh, no.  I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs.  “Off the bus then please, miss.  Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off.  “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions.  “I’m sorry?  Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier.  The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them.  “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste.  Everyone is polite here, it seems.  “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place.  Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self.  Eliminate the need for a back pathing.  All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers.  You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do.  You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink.  You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left.  You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one.  The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all.  No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together.  You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches.  Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell.  It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then.  Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide.  The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind.  You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds.  Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway.  How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated.  Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack.  There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick.  Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up.  Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck.  It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous.  You know it even before you start.  The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay.  Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need.  You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn.  If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty.  You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again.  This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot.  You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though.  Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be.  Water is an eroder.  Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees.  You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain.  The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it.  You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can.  It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck.  You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water.  The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall.  You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go.  With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it.  It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found.  This… this is doable.

Okay.  If you pull this off, you’re a badass.  If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation.  This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot.  Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further.  Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself.  The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet.  It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again.  “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond.  So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak.  You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below.  “Uh.  Ahem.  Hello.  Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you.  “Or something on your side is too loud.  There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about.  It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again.  You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?”  You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before.  Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something?  Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good?  It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough.  “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm.  Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to.  If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended.  You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult.  “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do?  This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well.  Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here.  You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk.  You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem.  Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um.  Can you give me a second?”  You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this.  Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?”  Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself.  Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more.  That’s a long way.  You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep.  Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths.  You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second.  The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay.  Okay, fucking success.  It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?”  You ask, slightly out of breath.  “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go?  Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with.  As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you.  You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing.  “Hello?  Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?”  Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile.  “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment.  “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again?  Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart.  It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely.  Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do.  You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today.  You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of.  The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right?  Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss.  The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance.  Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright.  Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit.  You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat.  “How’s the baby?  Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right.  You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.”  No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly.  “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times.  Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along.  He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back.  Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change?  That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father.  “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it.  The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet.  It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees.  Shit.  “Uh.  What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything.  Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it?  It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is?  Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail?  Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now.  You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make.  “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good.  Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm.  Doubt it,”  immediately comes his low response.  Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?”  Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction.  You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth.  Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask.  Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have?  Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly.  “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing.  “Psh.  Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes.  He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours.  He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?”  (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?”  (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean?  Everyone loves food.”  (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um.  What’s your favorite color, then?”  (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.”  (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.”  (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be.  Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light.  Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them.  All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier.  The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing.  If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right?  You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time.  This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road.  The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed.  You want a city.  This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines.  Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows.  As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter.  “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?”  You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you.  You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah.  So he got to the bus, then.  Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile.  Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say.  Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult.  “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full.  “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle.  Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains.  You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest.  You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental.  It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped.  Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes.  The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead.  Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough.  You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in.  It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be.  The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own.  He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop.  He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far.  You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think.  It’s hard to see.  Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders.  That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right?  Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up?  Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it.  You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy.  “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more.  “Shit.  How d’you… mm.  Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking.  “You need rest.  I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright.  Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now.  Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are.  Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause.  “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up.  You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it.  “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you.  You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull.  So warm, so gentle.  If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest.  “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur.  Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect.  “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset.  “You makin’ fun of me?”  You ask him with a harumph.  Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know.  Is that displeasure or not?  It’s not immediately clear.  Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now?  Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it?  “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back.  You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright.  It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it.  “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that.  You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember.  Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart.  Sixteen times sixteen.  One forty-four.  No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh.  “I won’t move until you wake up.  Go to sleep.  You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you.  That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six.  You don’t even think Din would.  You would, though.  On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up.  You should know this.  And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?”  You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless.  He doesn’t have to do this.  You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows.  How do you say this?  You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out.  “I’m… not in a bed.  I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy.  You want him to stay.  Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt.  “Sleep, sweet girl.  I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck.  Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time.  Wait.  Don’t panic.  Listen.

Breathing.  Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black.  He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep?  Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out.  You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen.  Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it.  Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much.  You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box.  It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost.  Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again.  Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator.  This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it.  He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back.  If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this.  You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up.  But… these circumstances are their own.  You have to capitalize now, this is your chance.  You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight.  That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to.  It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him.  Now is the time to hide.  You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then.  As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy.  “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act.  “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head.  Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…”  He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it.  “How long have you been up?”

Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”

How in Maker’s name?  This is impossible.  How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him?  Can you salvage this somehow?  “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak.  “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh.  Well.  Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways.  There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up.  Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over.  Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background.  It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around.  “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though.  He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead.  “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle.  “Alright, I’m up now.  See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh.  What the fuck was that?

No.  Nope, you’re not going to get played.  That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time.  You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore.  You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing.  He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it.  That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it.  Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept.  You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big.  Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected.  It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning.  Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh.  That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time.  If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion.  You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly?  Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show?  You have to stop worrying about him.  He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving.  While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation.  You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?”  He asks at one point.  So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect.  He doesn’t need to know.  “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though.  This is relevant.  “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?”  He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile.  “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range.  I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks.  It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads.  We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding.  It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way.  Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes.  He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think.  Someone a little less expressive.  This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments.  “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke.  “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle.  You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?”  You ask.  You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn.  It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?”  He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger.  The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that!  It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts.  Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him.  Good, this is almost over.  “Um.  Yep.  That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod.  “When you get to the city, just go straight through.  It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting.  You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line.  That might actually be a good move.  Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you.  Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right?  He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to.  Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him.  He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it.  Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly.  “Oh, by the way.  I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right.  You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store.  Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside.  You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms.  Oh well, you weren’t complaining.  Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea.  You don’t need to change shoes, not yet.  Why?  Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you.  It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories.  It’s an eyesore, it sticks out.  But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters.  Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left.  I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself.  Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see.  An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now.  If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know.  Let him know exactly where you are.  Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling.  If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide.  He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night.  It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on.  It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal.  Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever.  This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you.  You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think?  No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe.  Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here.  And… and slippers, it’s like a dream.  Do people normally wear slippers in bed?  You do.  Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase.  This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways.  You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky.  Violent and periwinkle tonight.  You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair.  Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath.  Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments.  Astute, you feel happy.  Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here.  Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers.  You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth.  No face, though.  Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance.  You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed.  You… miss him.  This mattress would feel softer with him next to you.  He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it.  You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles.  Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters.  “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”  You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you.  “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding.  “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you.  You love him.  Literally every single time, he just knows.  Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often.  Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again.  “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today?  How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes?  A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal?  You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you.  “You should be here.  I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually.  Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting.  He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him.  He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around.  The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead.  You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece.  “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly.  Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie.  You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible?  He read you that deeply from one single word?  You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”  You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?”  He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?”  You don’t even know what to believe anymore.  How do you beat this?  If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out.  His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm.  “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.”  It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…”  your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh.  He’s right, that was bad, even for you.  “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits.  You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step.  “I’m nowhere near the city yet.  You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?”  He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.”  His voice is gruff.  You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  “You should give yourself more credit.  I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss.  It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft.  It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through.  “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”  His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve.  “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache.  You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are.  People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself.  For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it.  You feel so… known, somehow.  Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his.  He makes you feel loved with it.  “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again.  You don’t have to say anything, he already knows.  “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip.  Oh, stars.  You hate that you do genuinely consider it.  He could be here, and very soon.  With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably.  He could take a shower.  Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one.  You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together.  You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you.  Let him come.  You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?”  You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement.  You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him.  Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone.  You like to think you’re both better that way.  Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”  Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you.  It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it?  This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting.  Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around.  The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?”  You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit.  He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts.  His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know.  “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you.  “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless.  Should you push it?  You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip.  It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach.  “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?”  You whisper to him devilishly.  Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down.  Stars, your heart is already pounding.  You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason.  He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire.  “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me.  Or you could find me before I’m finished.  Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to.  The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels.  You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?”  You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond.  Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing.  “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him.  Dead silence through the comm.  You’re starting to understand.  For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice.  He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm.  If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu.  You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece.  “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen.  “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement.  When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy.  “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now.  “Oh shit, does this holocall?  Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him.  “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear.  “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious.  He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you?  Really?

“You sure?”  You ask softly, raising an eyebrow.  “You’d get to see me, where I am.  What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop.  You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all.  Did he decline the transmission request?  No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before.  Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?”  You ask.  You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath.  “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist?  Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?”  You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows.  You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible.  “Can you see… this?”  You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?”  Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more.  “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?”  Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier.  “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”  You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed.  “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet.  Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that.  How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?”  You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden.  Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end.  Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight.  Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit.  “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera.  Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?”  Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again.  Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors.  You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop.  “But the window is open.  And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?”  Din immediately challenges.  Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that.  You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him.  It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay.  Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently.  It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth.  “Does it matter?  I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?”  You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following.  You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator.  Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself.  Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea.  No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well.  You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place.  Is he just that aroused by you?  Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again.  Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling.  Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back.  You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible.  You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do.  It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell.  He’ll be able to see it, you think.  The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside.  It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip.  He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something?  You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless.  It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you.  You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.  You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you.  Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples.  “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious.  “You think—y-you think—”

“What?”  You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious.  Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops.  It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?”   He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet.  “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there?  You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering.  He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now.  “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh.  That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart.  He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you.  Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word.  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly.  Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down.  “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid.  Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days.  I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss.  You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it.  You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his.  He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey.  “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not?  What have you got to lose?  Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways.  What’s the worst he can do?  Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here.  “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days.  You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you.  You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table.  It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

[the-yoru-whoru]

Streamer reader x Yandere Omen | Valorant protocol doesn’t exist in this au | omen’s physical appearance is unspecified in this as well | reader is super chill and sleepy and plays animal crossing | obsessed / simp / stalker Omen | idk I feel like this is funny cause some streamer stans really be acting like this ( as in they both pretend to worship and control everything about their favs at the same time lmao ) | two endings, one normal one n*fw lol | going to write about Phoenix next cause I never write about him lol

Omen finds your stream out of pure luck.

He doesn’t usually go on twitch, he prefers watching those funny cat videos on YouTube when he has the chance between work.

But there were only so many cute videos of cats he could watch before he started wondering about other content.

Living alone got…isolating at times. He’d find himself aimlessly following the same routine day after day, heading to work with his head down, coming back only when it was dark out, his apartment always cold and empty.

He made enough to live comfortably and then some; but he had no desire to travel, no family to spoil and no interests besides knitting, which was already fairly inexpensive.

Twitch was difficult to navigate at first. He clicked on streams and tried not to cringe at how loud people would be talking, or the violent games they were playing. Chat often sped by, their words blurring together and speech riddled with terms he didn’t know.

He found out that streams with too many viewers were too much for him.

You had a fair amount of viewers.

He’d clicked on your thumbnail by accident while he was going through the animal crossing category. He’d often played the game himself, and found it relaxed him most of the time.

The first thing Omen noticed was your appearance.

Your hair was tussled in a neat little way, strands sticking up as if you had just rolled out of bed.

The sweater you wore was adorably oversized, the thick fabric swallowing you in its folds.

And you had the most attractive face he’d ever seen, from your pretty mouth curved up into a small smile, to your drowsy eyes, half-lidded as if fighting to stay awake.

Your voice was soft, but the mic picked it up easily. There was a slight raspiness to your voice, a calmness that he felt rock through his body and to his core.

For a moment, Omen felt like this must be what love at first sight feels like.

Until his fingers hit the screen where your face cam is. Then he remembers he’s watching a stream.

You’re still talking softly, giggling lightly at some comments in chat. His eyes are glued to you.

Before he knows it an hour has gone by and all he’d done was watch you.

You were doing an assortment of things; fishing, decorating, farming. All the while you talked in that maddening way, face flushing at certain comments, or small hands coming up to rub at your eyes tiredly.

Omen felt like he could see the appeal of twitch now.

Watching you play was both calming and exhilarating in a strange way.

He could feel his back cramp with how long he’d been crouched over his laptop, drinking in every movement and sound you made.

So he moved to the bed, watching you play till 3 in the morning, when after your 6th yawn in a row where you reluctantly told stream you had to end, thanking everyone who came and spoke in chat, as well as the lurkers who supported the stream just by watching.

The screen went blank, the word “offline” filling the screen.

He stared at it blankly, trying to process what had just happened.

Glancing at the clock, he almost recoiled in shock at how much time had gone by. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet, he hadn’t done laundry, he hadn’t cleaned up, he hadn’t even used the bathroom and taken a shower yet.

Dazed, he fixed himself a quick meal and got ready for bed hastily, lying down and looking up at the ceiling in wonder.

Maybe next time you streamed he’d talk in chat.

Omen settled into bed again, propping some pillows against the headboard, and leaning back. He was on top of his covers with his laptop in his lap, the screen brightly lit. He glanced at the clock. 7:56. Your stream should be starting in a few minutes. He refreshed your twitch page again out of anticipation. There was still a plate on his side table, he’d quickly eaten a slice of bread for dinner, and his work clothes lay wrinkled on the ground.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you were live. He quickly clicked on the stream, raising the volume and letting your voice ring through his empty apartment. You had gotten more popular since he’d first saw you, now chat flew by quickly, and viewers shot up as soon as you went live. For some reason he couldn’t help but feel unhappy about that.

“Hi guys!” You were unusually energetic today, “How’s everyone’s afternoon been?”

There was a slight pause as chat filled with good’s and bad’s. He could see your eyes tracking the chat, as if waiting for something. Maybe he was imaging it, but he’d like to think you were waiting for his response specifically. He quickly typed out his answer, fingers quivering above the keyboard.

*tired, but trying to relax*

Almost immediately you nodded in sympathy, making a small noise of acknowledge. Omen’s heart skipped a beat. Did you read his response? Chat was moving so fast; was that just a coincidence? It couldn’t be.

“Well, I’m sorry if anyone had a bad day today, I also didn’t have the best day but…” Omen‘s hand flew to the donation button before you could even finish, “At least now I get to play games all night!”

His donation popped up in the corner of the screen.

*iheartcats donated 50$ : sorry that you had a bad day as well. hope tomorrow is better.

He watched your eyes flick to the text, widening adorably as usual, “Wow, thank you for the 50$ Iheartcats!”

You paused to read his message quickly, “Aww, that’s really sweet, I really do appreciate your support, dude. That’s so nice of you.”

Omen tried not to squeeze his laptop too tightly under his grip.

Tonight you were playing Stardew.

He always appreciated how you played those kinds of games; peaceful, domestic, calm. Games that didn’t stress him out or trigger him in anyway. The music would always be something repetitive and comforting, and there were never jump scares either.

Although he didn’t often watch the gameplay. Most of the time his gaze was on you, staring longingly at those plush lips of yours, and watching your every move. It all seemed so adorable, so flawless. He knew that it was impossible for a person to do no wrong, but it often seemed perfection like you was too good for this world.

A delicate hand came to rest on your chin as you contemplated what to respond to some character prompt for friendship points, “I don’t know what to say here guys… I’ve gotten this far but I don’t wanna mess up my points.”

He watched you sigh and hover over the options again.

Omen suddenly had an idea. He quickly searched up the character route and the correct answers. An excited anticipation rising inside of him, he clicked on the donation button yet again, quickly typing out his message and linking his credit card.

*iheartcats donated 100$ : correct response should be the last one.

He watched you blink at the screen curiously as you read it, before realization settled in.

You shift uncomfortably in the camera, and he could see you bite your lip anxiously, “Thank you for the donation, I do really love the support, but you don’t need to spoil the answers, I think finding them out ourselves is what makes it’s fun!”

Omen felt his heart sink in his chest. He didn’t know what to do. He’d been donating so much, and you still treated him like everyone else, like you were putting some kind of distance between you two. All he wanted was to be able to talk to you, for you to acknowledge his existence with more then a small thanks. And now it’s even backfired on him; you didn’t like that he’d spoiled the answer.

“Fuck…” He mumbled out loud, gaze quickly darting from the gameplay to your face again.

He loved watching you play. It was the one thing he could look forward to in his grey life. He felt like he could be satisfied just watching you and supporting you forever. You deserved the new viewers and new sponsors and donations and admiration. It was something you earned and you didn’t owe anyone special treatment or value.

Then why…why did he feel so pissed off?

Omen couldn’t stop gripping the laptop, the metal creaking slowly under the pressure. He could feel the darkness creeping in again, the walls he’d put up to keep them at bay slowly cracking and letting it in like poison gas.

He only wanted to help. He was your number one fan. He showed up to every stream, donated generous amounts of money, followed and commented on all your social media, and even bought the limited amount of merchandise you put on sale. He was always in chat, always first to click on your videos, the first to find out about you before you blew up.

You were back to playing, and he felt a bitter stab in his chest when you cheerfully thanked someone else for a donation, giving an almost identical response to their donation as you did for his. This was bullshit.

Before he could think he was keying in another donation.

*iheartcats donated 1000$ : why won’t you notice me

Omen saw you glance at it. He could barely hear your voice over the thumping in his chest, the blooming hope that maybe now you’d say something different, that you would at least acknowledge him with more then a quick thanks.

Instead, your face barely changed, the only giveaway that you even saw his message was your mouth twitching into a frown. Your shoulders hunched over, as if uncomfortable, and suddenly he felt like he’d done something incredibly wrong.

Your stream suddenly froze. Omen panicked, cursor immediately going to the refresh button to reset his browser. But the small message that popped up made him freeze.

You…you banned him? No, this had to be a mistake. Omen refreshed the page over and over, finger smashing the laptop so hard that the screen began to glitch at the edges, greens and blacks creeping in from the sides. He pulled himself out of bed and snatched his computer, unable to stop the pure anger seeping through him.

“Really?? After all I did for her? She’s gonna fucking ban me??” He growled out between gritted teeth, before flinging his computer to the wall, ignoring the loud bang it made before sliding to the floor, screen finally turning black. He stood there for moment, breath heavy and body slightly trembling. He could taste bile in the back of his throat, and he suppressed to urge to break another expensive item.

No. This wasn’t fair.

Omen pulled out his luckily intact phone from his pocket, and quickly punched in the number.

“Hello? Yeah, Cypher listen.” He glanced back at his destroyed laptop on the ground, “ I need your help.”

- one ending : Omen goes to Cypher and gets his computer fixed 👍

N*fw ending below non con warning

You blearily opened your eyes, mind still foggy with sleep. Yawning, you turned over in your bed, glancing outside your window. It was the middle of the night, and you could see the moon in the clear dark sky. Absentmindedly, you thought about how pretty it was.

You tried to fall back asleep, but your throat was uncomfortably dry from talking so much earlier, so you reluctantly rolled out of bed, slowly walking past your streaming station and towards the kitchen.

The floor was strangely cold against your bare feet, and you looked around confusedly. Weird; your window was open. You didn’t remember opening it, but you don’t remember closing it either. Shrugging, you quickly shut the window and locked it, shivering from the night time breeze.

Quickening at the thought of your warm bed, you poured yourself a cup of water, gulping down the liquid quickly and wiping the excess off with your sleeve. But something felt off. You turned around, looking around your home. The kitchen was attached to the living room, and as far as you could tell it was empty. You hadn’t bothered turning on the lights as the moon outside was bright enough to dimly brighten your path, but still; the long shadows across the floor were creeping you out, and it was eerily quiet. You took a step backwards, cup wobbling in your hand.

Suddenly you backed into something hard and firm.

“Mhm—!” You didn’t have time to scream before a heavy hand slid over your mouth, holding down hard as to not let a sound out. Your cup slips out of your grasp and shatters on the floor.

You struggle against your assailant for a few moments, pulling desperately at his forearm, kicking back at his figure. But he didn’t even budge. You feel your feet scrape against the broken glass, sharp stings of pain barely registering in your state of terror.

Your assailant caught one of your flailing fists, easily taking hold of your wrist in one hand.

“Scream and I break your wrist,” He said quietly.

You stopped moving, a chill going down your spine. His voice was incredibly deep, he didn’t even sound human. There was an unnatural rumble in his tone, a strange brokenness in his intonation. But the threat was there and clear. Even now you could feel your wrist bruise under what must be a mere squeeze for him. You had no doubt he could easily snap it.

“Nod if you understand,” He whispered.

After a moments pause, you shakily nodded, tears already streaming down your face. The hand covering your mouth slowly released.

You resisted the urge to cry out for help. He leaned over you, hot breath brushing against the side of your face. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was tall, if the long shadow casted over you was any indication.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks you, voice ragged, “Think carefully.”

His form shifts behind you, and you can’t help the sob that escapes your chest, fear coursing through your body.

“I-I don’t know! Please just—” You shriek when he picks you up effortlessly.

He carries you to your room and you feel lightheaded as he puts you down none too gently on your streaming chair.

“Here,” He grunts, “A clue.”

You are finally able to glance up at him. His face is covered by a shadow so you can’t make out any of his features, but you can tell his body is built even from under his sweater, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms that are thick and sturdy.

Trembling, you look away from him. He’s sat you at your streaming station. You’re not stupid, you know what this means.

“You watch me stream, r-right?” You say carefully.

He nods.

“So…” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, staring at the black screen of your monitor as if it would help you, “You’re a fan?”

It’s almost amusing when he nods solemnly, “Big fan.”

You wracked your mind. You could only think of one person.

“Iheartcats?” You say questioningly.

You’re startled when he swivels your chair to himself, leaning down excitedly, “Yes! Yes, that’s me!”

He shakes you by your shoulders lightly, and you’re unsettled by the sudden mood change.

You give him a crooked smile, “G-great! I’m glad you enjoy t-the streams!”

His shoulders sag, “But you banned me.”

Your blood goes cold again, “I-I’m sorry about that.”

He falls quiet, and you feel uneasy as you wait for his next move. You want to dart to your phone and call for help, but you don’t think you could get to it before he stops you.

“My name is Omen,” He breaks the silence with a sudden polite introduction.

“I’m Y/N.” You tell him shakily, even though you know he already knows that.

After a pause, he pulls away from you and starts pacing the room, muttering intensely to himself. You can only watch him as he takes heavy steps from one side of your bedroom to the other, presence large and unwelcoming in what should be your safe space.

“W-what do you want from me?” You finally ask, unable to keep waiting in this tense anticipation for him to do something.

He stops and turns to you, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Omen admits, “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, but now that I have done so I find that… it’s not enough.”

You recoil back.

Omen enters your space again, hot breath making you feel dizzy, “I want you to thank me. For being your number one supporter. I deserve that, at least.”

You open your mouth to quickly give him thanks so he’ll be satisfied, but he shakes his head dismissively.

“No, not like that,” He sounded disappointed, “Just…get on the ground.”

“What?” You must’ve mishear him, “The ground?”

Impatience seeps into his voice, “Yes. On your knees.”

Confused, you slowly sink out of your chair and to the floor, sitting on your knees and leaning back onto your heels. It’s only when he comes to stand in front of you do you realize what he wants.

“No! No way, just leave me alone—”

You try to get up but he shoves you back down, hands going to rest of your shoulders, the warning behind them clear.

You try to reason with him, “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? Please, I’ll unban you, I’ll talk to you, whatever you want, okay?”

He ignores you, unzipping his pants and already pulling his hard cock out. You try pulling away, but one of his hand grips at you tightly, holding you in place. The tip of his dick brushes against your cheek.

“Please!” You sob desperately.

Omen looks down at you, face still shrouded in darkness, “You are so pretty.”

You don’t reply, hiccuping through your tears.

His next words sound deranged, “I love you so much, I t’s driving me insane. I want to know everything about you, want to see you in every position, to worship and sacrifice my life to you. I thought that I would be happy being nothing to you, being barely anything but a fleeting thought in your mind if only you were to notice and acknowledge me for a few mere seconds. I thought that being nothing but your fan would be enough to fill my mundane life with something as perfect as you. ”

“But now, seeing you like this, kneeling before me,” Omen’s rasps, “I think I like this better.”

You open your mouth to call him insane but he quickly shoves his length into your mouth, the sudden intrusion making you gag.

His hand grips at your hair tightly, making you since, “Don’t you dare bite down.” He warns you before he starts sloppily thrusting into your warmth.

You try your best to accommodate him, stretching your jaw until you’re aching, but he just gazes down at you, breathing heavily and taking in the sight. You could only imagine what he sees; you struggling on his cock, face red and eyes puffy from crying, mouth barely able to open around him. Omen looked terrifying, the glowing moonlight behind him making him look akin to a monster. You didn’t know if it was the shadows, but the skin of his hands looked pitch black, and from what you could see, the skin of his pelvis did as well.

But you didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought before he was easing his cock into your throat, your nose pressed up against his pelvis. You struggled to breath, eyes widening in panic.

“Relax,” He groaned out, voice thick with bliss, “Relax your throat, sweetheart.”

You want to push him off of you, to bite down and hear him be in pain. But the repercussions scare you too much, and you’re too much of a coward to fight back.

He seems pent up; it’s not long before he’s speeding up, your gagging sounds only spurring him on.

“God, you feel so good!” His gravely voice cracks, desperation seeping into the seams, “I love you so much, holy shit. You’re the only thing I can think about everyday of my pathetic life. Fuck, you’re so perfect—” He cuts himself off with a moan.

His breath goes ragged, and then you feel his hot load fill your mouth, the thick liquid rolling down your throat uncomfortably. Omen holds you there for a few seconds, his chest heaving with his orgasm. Then he pulls out of your sore mouth, hand slowly releasing your hair as well.

You cough and sputter, stray cum dripping down your face and vision blurred from the tears in your eyes.

Omen quickly puts his softening cock away and then bends down to your level. In the back of your mind you almost find it endearing when he attempts to wipe away his seed from your chin, thick fingers gentle as if in apology.

“I,” his rumbling voice turns sincere, “I really meant everything I said. I really do love you.”

You don’t want to respond to him. You turn your face from his concerned gaze, not caring how childish it seemed. He sighed tiredly.

“It’s alright if you see upset. I’m just…” Omen pats you on your head awkwardly, “I’m happy you’re finally noticing me.”

Even when you don’t respond he doesn’t stop stroking your hair adoringly.

“Plus, now I can watch your streams in real life. Isn’t that neat?”

[ohimsummer]

going to the fair ft. jean k.

going to the fair with Jean :] it’s not even close to October but I haven’t been in probably two years so I can only dream

content: fluff, jean x gn! neutral reader, modern! au, not proofread

a/n: apparently carnival and fair aren’t the same thing but imma use both to avoid too much repetition lol

- You’d been wanting to go to the state fair the moment it opened. You begged Jean to come with you, and of course he immediately obliged.

- Jean is in awe when you guys arrive. He hasn’t been to the fair in years, not since his mom brought him when he was a child. The huge crowd and colourful lights are almost overwhelming for him, but you taking his hand in yours brings Jean’s attention back to you.

- You drag Jean all over the place and he’s happy to follow behind you like a lost puppy. The first ride you lead him to is the tallest one smack dab in the center of the fairgrounds: a large pendulum-based attraction with a line almost wrapped around a corner. 

Jean isn’t afraid of being high up in the air, but the way the ride is swaying and spinning combined with the excited screams of the people on it makes a queasy feeling settle in his stomach. His heart starts pounding and he tries to think of an excuse as to why you both should find something else to ride when you turn to face him.

“You’re squeezing my hand really tight, baby. Are you nervous?”, you ask, brows scrunched together and concern laced through your voice.

He doesn’t even get a chance to answer, you can tell by the sweat building up on Jean’s forehead and the way he averts his eyes that getting on this ride will make him uncomfortable. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before leading him off elsewhere, and chuckle as Jean gives an audible sigh of relief.

- You both opt to start the night off with some rigged carnival games. A huge stuffed puppy at a particular booth catches your eye. The game is some strength-based game with a foam hammer, and quickly convince Jean to play by appealing to his ego. A few bats of your eyelashes, a stroke on his arm, and a “We both know how strong you are, Jeanie, I bet you could win this no problem” and Jean’s more than ready to get you that stuffed animal. 

- It of course takes him a few tries, and he gets frustrated after each attempt where the puck reaches just below the bell. Even if you change your mind about wanting the plush, it’s too late. Jean’s ego and his want to get you that plush will not allow him to give up. He’ll go broke before he walks away from this game.

- After spending almost $50, he wins or the game attendant just gives it to him out of pity. Either way, Jean is finally satisfied. You give him a big kiss on his cheek, and he’s so distracted with how happy you are to have the prize that he doesn’t realize he just threw $50 down the drain for something that probably cost $5. 

- You guys play a few more games before eventually deciding to finally ride something. While Jean is in a port-a-potty, you creep over to one of those balloon dart games, and when he returns to your side you surprise him with a small stuffed frog with long, striped arms. 

- Jean picks the first ride: the Teacups. “The line is short and it looks fun”, he says, which you don’t disagree with so you both hop in the line with your tickets. You make Jean sit closer to the wall while you sit in the middle. ”Can’t have you sliding over and crushing me against the wall, Kirstein.”

- Jean wraps his arm around you as the Teacups spin around, and he catches himself staring lovingly at the excitement on your face than actually enjoying the experience of the ride.

- Ultimately, you find yourselves right back at the pendulum ride. Jean doesn’t find it any less daunting, but he’s determined to ride it with you nonetheless. He feels more and more sick to his stomach as you both get closer to the front of the line, and he’s grateful that the only thing he’s eaten in the last hour is a chunk of the cotton candy you got from one of the food trucks.

- Jean’s mouth is glued shut the entire time he’s seated next to you, save for a few fearful gasps and the nervous chuckle he gives you when you glance over at him. He has an iron grip on the metal bars holding you guys inside the ride and he can feel his stomach doing backflips inside his body. 

- Your arms find their way around Jean’s bicep, and you can visibly see him relax as he stares into your eyes. You let out a giggle, he replies with his own, and you’re both eventually cracking up on the ride as it comes to a stop.

“So...” you start as you both walk away from the ride, “Pretty fun, right? Did you like it?”

Jean’s hand flies to the back of his head as he nervously fumbles with his now ruffled hair. ”W-well, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be..? It was way better than if I had to ride that thing alone, anyway.”

You let another hearty laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. Truth be told, you were just as nervous as he was while riding it, and felt like you were gonna throw up on multiple occasions, but Jean doesn’t need to know that.

[kanene-yaaay]

Ooh, requests are open??

Could I request a fic of Moon (FNAF) being a playful/teaser ler with male (or neutral) reader? I haven't been able to find many of him 🥺 👉🏻👈🏻

No worries if not tho 💜

~🌘

I give up from trying to write mini-fics sdfghjdfghj I got really excited with this because!! It's been such a long time since I wrote a xreader fic and I never tried to make it a tickle fic before so yaaaaay! I really hope you like this! <33

I went for the neutral gender reader. Around 3.000 words. Can be viewed as platonic or romantic. No proofreading so some parts can be a bit confusing. Have a nice week :D

[~*~]

“Are you having fun, yet?”

The sudden raspy, robotic voice probably would scare you if it wasn’t the third time Moon questioned the same thing, his voice coming upwards and not so far away from your spot, showing that he decided to test the metallic cabs this time. You sighed, half exasperated, half amused as you took another sharp turn, ducking behind and under a few tunnels from the playground in hopes of throwing him out of your back. Finally opting for crouching under a yellow slide, you squinted at the animatronic as he headed the opposite direction of your hidden spot, trying to not step on a bunny plushie forgotten there - probably another squeaky toy, those seemed to be appearing just about everywhere these days. - Maybe Moon’s heat vision was malfunctioning? You made a mental reminder to come back to this later after all the tests were over.

Of course, if your superior knew that the way you both decided to conduct the tests to see if his new updates were running smoothly and correctly was through a series of games that somehow came to a heated Hide and Seek in the dark, you knew you would be listening a lot from her. However, how could you shut down Moon’s excitement by forcing him to repeat previously cataloged movements and answer thousands of redundants questions about ‘Are you having any problems staying still in the air? Spin non stop for one minute. Are you having any problems to stay still now? Spin non stop for two minutes changing from going from left to right and vice versa at every twenty seconds. Are you hav-’.

Yeah, you couldn’t exactly blame the petulant scoff that left the calmer daycare attendant when he read the first page of the tests, just as you couldn’t find in yourself any regrets for letting you to be dragged to his shenanigans when that gaze - usually so bored or tired - stared at you with a new chaotic light.

That is how you ended up in this situation, eyes following the blue form of Moon as he moved across the play area with his new suspension cabs, jumping on the playground to look inside the tunnels and around the climbing structure before floating in the air with a few pirouettes, probably enjoying the feeling of the exciting freedom that came with his new update.

The new system was created in an attempt to attract more kids and make Moon an even more visually more appealing character for the younger ones - who would, as consequence, convince their parents to spend more and more in marketables and tickets on the Daycare - since they have been receiving complaints from clients of how much ‘strict’ and ‘uncaring’ - especially for the kids who refused to respect the, as Moon himself proclaimed, sacred Nap Time - the night themed animatronic was with the children.

It was kind of sad, really, that those guardians focused so much on Sun's excited and energetic demeanor and declared that was the only one personality fitted to take care of kids. How they ignored the way Moon would create a schedule every day before the shopping opened so every kid would have a chance to choose a book to read during storytime, how they failed to notice the way he would make different voices for each character even when changing the tune and timbre of his chatterbox didn’t came naturally to him, or even his careful and kind - even if a bit sharp around the edges - actions was when the young ones had a nightmare and he immediately went to comfort them. Just a bit more of attention, or mayhaps just care, and any parent would see how a few shy kids, when the daycare was about to close and guardians waited in a fan of emotions to pick their child and take them home, shuffled closer to Moon and tugged his clothes, thanking him for spending time with them or handing back his noise canceling headphones.

Instead, plenty of clients and even employees kept throwing annoying comments, trying to jab an inexistent rivalry between both of the daycare attendants, receiving back a witted answer from nighthemed robot or an overly excited passive aggressive comment from the day themed one, who would never pass a chance to protect his brother.

So, yeah, you’re not about to deny him a few more minutes having fun with his new update

Besides, the prospect of being able to grab insufferable, careless guardians who shouted complaints at the flickest, stupidest things and throw them far away would be good for Moon’s general health, you’re sure. Not that he would ever do that - or at least you hoped he wouldn’t. Way too much paperwork to even be worth it, - but the fact that he would be able to could bring the true peace to his grumpy heart.

Going back to the present, a quiet chuckle left your mouth as you wrote down a few observations on almost the finished paper you needed to hand to your superior on the next day. Hopefully the support team wasn’t going to have too much work to make the necessary corrections you pointed out. If everything kept occuring well, the daycare attendant would have his new mean of transport in no time.

A cold feeling ran down your spine.

You couldn’t hear the metallic clicking sound of the animatronic moving around anymore.

Mentally cursing your distraction you moved just the slightest from your hiding spot, just to be able to take a better look at your surroundings, a strange chill running across your bones. There was always a strange sensation of electricity and wariness that accompanied childish objects when they were bathed by darkness and complete silence, an aspect that plenty of horror movies liked to play with and that had some scenes of the said ones start to play in front of your eyes. You wrinkled your nose, perhaps you should tune down the whole watching scary movies for a bit.

Another chill danced in cold waves across your nerves, leading the hair in the nape of your neck to stand and an invisible force to turn your head upwards, almost colliding with Moon’s face, which dangled - just like the rest of his body - a few centimeters above you. Even if he didn’t have the need to breathe, you could almost be sure a puff of air hit your features when the aforementioned opened his mouth, a pleased grin on his face.

“Found you. ~”

Things happened way too fast after that.

A blink and you stumbled to be in your feet.

A blink and the animatronic had to quickly retreat to not be headbutted.

Blink. You were running, excited giggles filling the air. Blink. You heard a soft ‘thump’ behind you, followed by quick footsteps. Blink and you impulsioned yourself forward, fuelled by the sinister snickers that got closer and closer to you.

Blink and something made you lose your ground.

A high pitched squeak echoed as your body fell to meet the cold floor of the daycare, your eyes catching a glimpse of something rubbish for a piece of seconds.

Those fucking cursed squeaky toys-

Before your body could hit the ground, however, a pair of hands firmly held your sides, fingers pressing on the spot in order to pull you back to a standing position with no further nor hidden intention, only a helping action to prevent a friend to so said one wouldn’t have to deal with an injure in the end of the shift.

Your nerves, on the other hand, didn’t quite understand the whole ‘just helping a friend’ ordeal, probably a indirect consequence of having so much adrenaline running high in your veins, and the moment those cold fingers found your waist and lightly squeezed it, a ticklish shock exploded across your frame and another squeak floated in the air.

His reaction was immediate.

“Are you injured?” Suddenly his touch was much lighter, fingers tapping the flesh with care, previously game already forgotten as a buzzing sound behind you showed that Moon was using his scanner to look for any bruising. It would be very sweet, really, to see such grumpy animatronic being so gentle. If all the gentleness and worrying didn’t make his touch so soft it left a trail of tickly tingles blossoming and spreading in spirals across your torso.

A wobbly tune took over your lips. Oh, no.

“I-it’s nothing!” Your voice trembled a bit when his fingertips pressed your lowest rib, tapping from left to right over and over again in a methodical manner. A part of your soul thanked the small mercies of life for Moon not being able to sense the warmth growing stronger in your face when a spot that was way too close to your belly had you letting out a quiet gasp and squirming away from the offending hand. “Really. It’s, it’s totally fine!”

“You know you shouldn't be moving around if you are hurt, independently of the gravity of the bruising.” He huffed in exasperation, ignoring your words and letting his other hand adjust its grip so it could still hold you in place as he focused on his analysis. You had to use all your strength to not shy away from the check up, and it definitely didn’t help that he kept poking and poking your ribcage in totally random patterns. Was he looking for cracked ribs? How did he think you could possibly get cracked ribs from playing hide and seek? “You should have warned me the moment you got the injury. Just wait until I tell this to Sun, he will get your ass.”

“Watch your f-fucking language.” You chided him halfheartedly, an old joke you both had and which none could quite recall when it started. “We need to finish your tests, come ON!”

Your hand flied to your mouth the moment the giggle came out, trying to unsuccessfully muffle it. For a second, everything became quiet.

Moon’s faceplate clicked, slowly turning to stare at you, his index finger and thumb pinching your side again only to be gifted with the same reaction. Your other hand latched on his wrist, trying to push it away from the ticklish spot, knowing very well there was no possibility that he didn’t put the pieces for the puzzle together with the way a smile peaked from behind your hand. There was no way of this being possible, but you could almost swear you saw a glint of mischievousness gleaming on his eyes.

“Oh my, oh my…” His chuckles were quiet and low as he got closer, his head bobbing from one side to another just like he always did when he was feeling playful. “You wouldn’t happen to be a bit… sensitive, would you, human?”

You felt more than saw his hands becoming claw-shaped before starting to slowly - incredibly, unbearably slowly - spidering upwards, fingertips spreading wide enough to vibrate on the ribs and in between them. Giggles began to shake on your chest, pilling up as he found a rather sweet spot right in the back of your highest ribs.

“What, no answer?” You shook your head and tried to at least keep your composure by shoving your face on your shoulder and stop staring at those piercing gaze. Moon only tilted his head, searching for your eyes again while pulling you closer, his hands worming their way under your arms. “Aww, and why not? Is someone quiet all out of sudden because I discovered a little tickly tickly ticklish secret?” His fingertips pressed a bit more firmly on the skin, scratching and scribbling on the spot. “Hm? Are you feeling a bit shy right now? Because I discovered that you’re a very wiggly-wiggley giggly bug? Hm? Is that it?”

You attempted to push him away again, squirming and feeling titters escaping from your tight pressed lips when he easily followed your movements, way too much excited with his new discovery to let you escape so easily with your halfheartedly struggles.

"Come on, you know you will feel much better if you just let yourself go and laugh your heart out. Here," in a blink he twisted the hand you were holding to, bending the metallic joints unnaturally and making you let go before he turned the tables and got a gentle grip in your own hand, pulling it above your head. "I will even be nice with you and leave your poor, defenseless armpit alone for now! Instead, my fingers are going to be having a little walk riiiight here…" he tapped your palm, "and only when I finish this path I will give this sensitive spot riiight here" a quick poke on your underarm fished a muffled yelp "some attention. Sounds good?"

Maybe it was the previous adrenaline talking louder, leaving your nerves jittering and a sensation that you could take anything. Maybe it was because it's wasn't often you saw Moon being so playful and it's been a time since you had so much fun. The thing is, suddenly you found a fire sparking in your soul, flames and determination filling your actions as you turned to stare at the daycare attendant with a grin, lips parting, words flowing and:

"I am not even ticklish."

Note to self: maybe coming up with a good, defying answer when your fuzzy brain is still bewildered by phantom sensations is not the best of the ideas.

Moon only seemed to get more joyful with the challenge, his deep chuckles now shaking his entire frame. "Not ticklish? Is that right?" He made a show of wiggling his fingers in the air just a few inches from your side - barely touching, barely grazing - and feigning an attack just to pull himself back when you squirmed, a snort flying in the room.

Your eyes locked again. You gulped and shook your head, because how much worse could this get. "No. Not ticklish at all."

"So there wouldn't be any problem if I decided to explore a little bit, yes?"

"We should call it a day. My shift already en-" The protest was cut by Moon placing his index finger on your wrist teasing the spot there with a few scribbles before moving on to your forearm, drawing shapes and leaving spirals on every inch of skin available.

It was such a soft feeling, so light and simple and it should be illegal the way it left tickly shocks spreading across your nerves and it seemed to make your entire torso ten times more ticklish.

Involuntary, you felt the smile in your face grow bigger.

"Ohohoho, I had an idea! Since we're having so much fun we should play a game. ~"

He stopped by your elbow, giving it a special attention.

"Are you not going to ask me what game it is? Aw, such a pity. It's a very famous thing with all the young humans and, well, I even considered giving you your freedom if you won it. But it doesn't matter now! I think I will have to settle for tormenting those tiny helpless spots, then." The animatronic poked your belly button, making your legs wobble a little. "Your knees seem a bit lonely… maybe we can fix it."

"Wait, no!" With a shove you managed to get out of his grip, quickly putting a few steps between you and that hoarse, teasy voice that continued to whisper next to your ear. You both remained frozen, pretending to ignore the few giggles that succeeded in slipping from your mouth. Moon tilted his head, wiggling his fingers in your direction. "No. You mentioned a game. What is it?"

He beamed, eyes shining in a trickery playfulness. "It's rather easy, you see. One of my brother's favorites, actually. All you need to do is keep your arms up while the bomb is tickling, oh, I mean, ticking, and the moment it explodes all you have to do is just not laugh."

"If-" you snorted and bapped a hand of his away when it got too much closer. "If I win, then I am free to go and to get some revenge."

That made him stop, his head frozen in the middle of its bobbing, eyes squinting in suspicion.

You only grinned back at him.

"If I win," he said carefully, as if measuring the value of his words. "You will have to tell me your worst spot."

One million thoughts speeded through your mind, unhelpfully, as you analyzed your options.

“Deal.”

His grin came back at full force. With a fast spin your back collided with his chestplate (which was surprisingly soft for a robotic endoskeleton, did they put cotton between it and his clothes? It would definitely bring much more comfort for the kids when carrying them around) and he pulled your arms to lock fingers behind his neck.

“It won’t be too difficult for you, I presume. You’re not ticklish, afterall.” That damned low voice was back, right behind your ear, making a new wave of warmth blossom in your face. His fingertips pressed on your biceps. They were vibrating. That little cheater. “Remember: all you have to do is just not. laugh.”

Moon began to make a ‘chhh’ noise as his attack descended your arms, a muffled squeal trying to break your barriers when he added tiny sparks of electricity, really, really weak, just enough to hit the muscle and tickle like hell.

He stopped right at the top of your armpit.

You held your breath, arms trembling, squirming to protect the vulnerable spot.

“BOOM!”

But it was wasn’t the sudden noise breaking the previously quiet atmosphere that made you jump, it was the unfair, illegal, unjust, evil surprise attack on you hips, fingers drumming on the flesh and leading to a shriek to leave your lips, a buzzing raspberry being placed on your neck being enough to crumble your will and result in peals of laughter spilling freely from your barriers.

“CHEHEHEATER!”

“For not tickle-tickle-tickling your armpits, blushy toy? Let me fix this mistake, then.” And now there were hands digging on your underarms, poking and scratching and changing their target to your ribs or belly when you were just about to get used to the feeling, his excited giggles mixing with your snorts and squeals, dancing together in the air.

"Don't worry." He said, scanning you again and smiling a tad more softly when, just like his first scan, the results came back showing high levels of dopamine and oxytocin, not a trace of discomfort in your features as your loud laughter filled the daycare. "We will stay here for hours and hours until a certain Tickle Bug finally admits how ticklish and giggly they are. Now, let's have some fun."

[boldlyvoid]

Trick or Treat

mood board doesn't represent the reader*

18+

Summary: Franklin and Reader are paired up for costume bowling as their costumes accidentally match. She’s a sexy cheerleader, and he’s a 70’s porn star… they spend most of the game teasing each other instead of trying to win

a/n: for @imagining-in-the-margins trick or treat event using the prompt “it’s okay, screaming is normal on Halloween”

Warnings: teasing, mutual pining, getting together, oral sex (both), multiple orgasms, condom use, overstimulation, dom!franklin, riding, i think that's all?

Word Count: 3.1K

Spooky week Masterlist

Little Falls wasn’t just known for its bowling, no… it was also known for its crazy Halloween traditions that involved bowling.

Every year, anyone and everyone who wanted to, dressed up and filed into the bowling alley to be partnered up with anyone whose costume theme matched theirs. Most people used it as a form of blind dating, dressing up in the strangest things to see what groups could be made. Legend has it, this was how Bombers parents met.

There was only one man she really wanted to be paired with… and he wore the same costume every single year. It was just convenient for him, he could wear any bowling shirt and keep his moustache while claiming to be a porn star. While that description doesn’t sound appealing, Franklin had more sex appeal than one would expect.

She’s had a crush on him for a few years now, watching him from the corner of her eye during one of her friend's birthday parties. Drunk on too many tequila shots and finding the way he licks his fingers and trusts his hips a lot more inviting than the people who see it all the time. Since then, she’s returned a few times since then, cheering on Big Z tires home games and hoping to catch his eye.

This year she’s dressing up as a cheerleader, in yellow and purple to hopefully match whatever bowling shirt Franklin wore this time. Boobs pushed up, skirt short, tiny, tiny underwear on underneath and her hair all done. She looked in the mirror one last time with a smirk before heading out, with any luck the next time she came home it would be after getting pounded relentlessly by him.

Over the last few months, she’s managed to have a few small conversations with him. She’s stood by him in line for nachos, she’s complimented his glasses and made him smile, she’s even held the door for him and gotten a wink… she’s aware it’s fangirl behaviour but he was just so… so interesting? In a way she could never explain, she wanted him so badly.

She walked right into the Bowling Alley, head held high and eyes scanning the room for him. Lo and behold, he was standing by the rest of his team with a beer in his hands and the same costume as always on. Purple bowling shirt, 70’s serial killer glasses and that thick, beautiful porn stash.

She continues to walk right up to him and the rest of the gang, getting strange looks from Beth and Pamela as she tapped on Franklin's shoulder.

“Hey,” he says as he notices her, wrapping his arm around her and bringing her into the group. “Oh wow, look, we match?”

“Would you look at that?” She teased, knowing it was no accident. “I guess we might have to be partners tonight…”

“You know what they say about the partners made tonight?” Bomber cuts in, “my parents conceived me on Halloween, it’s known for bringing people together.” She interlocks her fingers while making intense eye contact with Y/N.

“Right,” she’s just a little alarmed, “uh, so Franklin, did you want to maybe show me some pointers so we win? I’m not the best and I don't want to let you down…”

He smirks, handing his beer to Beth and walking away with his arm still wrapped around Y/N. “Have you bowled much?”

She shakes her head, “for birthdays and things but not like you… I’m more comfortable with wii bowling.”

He chuckles, “you’re lucky I don’t care about winning.”

She smacks him lightly, “that’s why I need you to teach me, I don’t want to lose either.”

“Pick your favourite colour ball,” he gestures to the selection of colours before them.

She picks up a green ball, holding it close to her chest as she waits for instructions. He picks up an orange ball, motioning with his head for her to follow him to the lane, “watch me first, and then show me your best shot.”

She watches carefully as he holds the ball up in front of himself, looking past it down the alley, he steps forward a few times as he winds back, tossing the ball down the lane as fast as he could and getting a strike.

“So easy,” she rolls her eyes with a chuckle.

“You can do it,” he taps her ass as she passes, standing behind her and watching as she squats down close to the line, holding the ball between her legs and throwing it in a straight line, very slowly, towards the pins, knocking over all but 1.

“Not bad,” he says, a red blush on her face that she doesn’t understand at first until she remembers how short her skirt is today.

“Show me how to make it better?”

He takes a deep breath, taking another ball from the rack and handing it to her. He guides her to a good spot, standing directly behind her, his hand slides down her shoulder to her forearm, “lift it up and look down the lane, like looking down the barrel of a gun, you have to aim.”

“Okay,” she breathes deeply in an attempt to stay calm, nodding along repeatedly. “Then what?”

“Then,” his hands trail down her side to her hips, “you’re using your right hand which means when you take the final step, it should be on your left side to hold the weight evenly.”

She nods again, stepping forward with him and following through, she tosses the ball out and watches as it speeds down the lane and crashes into the pins, knocking them all over.

She laughs in shock, jumping into his arms, “that was so cool!”

“You’re not bad at all,” he agrees, holding her back loosely.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” she teases, “maybe I could show you after the games?”

He nods, “I think I won just getting to be your partner.”

“You’re very smooth,” she compliments him with a smile, “but so am I.”

“Yeah?” His hands wander lower, past her lower back and over her ass till he’s touching the soft skin of her butt cheeks, making her giggle.

“Don’t you have enough trophies?” She wonders, “could I somehow convince you to skip the event and just take me home instead?”

“You could pretend to be my trophy wife for the night,” he teases, “let me show you how much it means to me to see you at my matches... if only you wore this little outfit every time.”

She swoons, nodding while looking up into his beautiful brown eyes. “Show me?”

—

Once inside his apartment, Franklin did the unimaginable and dimmed his lights all the way down, then he lit some candles, and turned back to Y/N as she watched from the doorway.

She slipped into his room, closing the door behind herself, she leaned against it and stared at him until he got the hint and walked to her.

“Hi,” he whispered as he pressed his chest up against hers.

She looked up into his eyes as he ran his hands up his arms till they were resting on her shoulders. Coping her jaw next, he kept his eyes on hers as she melted into his touch, heart fluttering uncontrollably as she tried to steady her breathing.

“I like you, so much,” she whispered, unashamed.

“I like you too,” he replied before pulling her in and kissing her deeply.

She was so drawn to him, Franklin breathed in deeply through his nose like he was trying to absorb the moment to keep forever. She finally broke the kiss to look up at him again, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded softly, “I’ve spent so many nights thinking about it. About giving myself to you, letting you take me… taking you… I just crave being close to you.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out, shocked. “I want you too, I just never thought you’d say that?”

“Take me.”

Franklin picked her up then, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them to the bed. He laid Y/N down softly, kissing her quickly before he pulled back to take his own clothes off. He took off his bowling shirt to reveal the slightest bit of abs, he kicked his shoes off under his bed, then he slowly but surely pulled his belt from the loops of his pants, before peeling them off as well.

He was standing there in his underwear, looking at her in that sexy cheerleader outfit and smirking to himself, “how the fuck did I land you?”

She laughs, feeling confident all of a sudden, reaching for the hem of her shirt she pulls it off and looks up at him again, “I could ask myself the same question.” She’s sitting there in her impossibly small skirt and even smaller panties, reaching behind her back to unclip her bra and let it hit the floor.

Franklin settled himself between her legs, leaning forward and pressing their bodies together before kissing her again. Finally, with some heat behind it, he licked at her bottom lip as if asking permission to clash their tongues together. The soft wet heat of his tongue against hers made her shiver.

She moved to kiss down his neck, she ran her hands up Franklins’s back before scratching back down to hear the beautiful moan that escaped from his lips. Franklin moved down her body, kissing her neck as he palmed her breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as soon as he had the chance to, moaning at the contact himself. She just gasped, it felt better than she imagined as he twirled his tongue around the hard nub and enjoyed himself.

“God, I fucking love your tits,” he mumbles against her skin, “so soft and perfect in my hands, fuck I want to just kiss them all the time.”

He ran his hands all the way down to her hips, where she was laying with her legs spread open, covered pussy just begging to be played with. Franklin just looked down at her, like he was taking pictures of her like this in his mind.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly.

“So are you,” she reminded him.

“Can we take these all the way off?” He inches his fingers under her skirt and plays with the hem of her panties.

She nodded, lifting her hips so that he could slip them off while leaving the skirt around her waist. “You’re next,” she said, pointing at the tent in his pants and biting her lip. This was going to be fun.

She watched him try to get out of his as sexily as possible, it didn’t work he just made her giggle as he tossed them across the room and returned his focus to her.

“Can I try something I’ve always wanted to do?” She asked, nervous but feeling safe with him at the same time.

“Yeah, anything…”

She smiled softly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Franklin's hipbone and he knew exactly what she wanted to do. He couldn’t stop watching with wide eyes as Y/N wrapped her nipple fingers around the base of his cock. She innocently kissed the tip before licking all the way up along his shaft and teasing the slit with her tongue.

She played with his cock in her hands, stroking him slowly as she kissed his groin and cupped his balls. It was fun watching his face filled with pleasure as she touched him, it’s all she’s wanted to do for so long… she knew he’d be hot like this, but this was getting to be too much for each of them.

He started to stutter, finally getting her name out as she pulled off. A strip of saliva attached the head of his dick to her swollen bottom lip. She wiped it off with the back of her hand, staring at him, his eyes were black now with passion. There wasn’t any brown left, it was phenomenal.

“Can I taste you?” he asked.

She swallowed sharply as she nodded, she couldn’t believe it was going to happen. “Please,” she begged, trading places with him and laying back against the bed.

She laid back and closed his eyes while Franklin took his spot between her legs, flipping her skirt up to look at her pussy with the attention she deserved, “fuck,” he whispered to himself. “You have the prettiest pussy I have ever seen.”

It makes her back arch involuntarily, pushing her core towards him and begging him to touch her finally. He wraps his arms under her legs, reaching around them to pull them apart while simultaneously holding her down. “Do you want to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes sir,” he replies almost as if it’s an impulse she’s always had.

“Cum as many times as you want on my tongue, but I’m not going to fuck you till you beg me to,” he replies, his voice so dark and deep it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Safeword?” She manages to whisper.

“Cut?” He smirks, “seeing as we were dressed like we should have been on the set of a porn anyway…”

“Okay,” she reaches forward to run her fingers through his hair, “do you want to keep the glasses on?”

He nods, “I’d like to see you, so yeah.”

She laughs again but it’s cut short by the feeling of his lips on her clit, followed by the feeling of the flat of his tongue lapping up her wetness before his stash tickles her slit again and her grip in his hair tightens. “Fuck,” she moans out, hips already shaking as his tongue dances around her cunt.

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, allowing him to bring her to the edge again and again. Pulling back with his stash soaked and spit dripping down his chin, “it’s okay, screaming is normal on Halloween,” he rubs her clit fast with 4 fingers as she cums with a shout. Dipping down, he fucks her through it with his tongue, basking in the gasps and shouts she makes.

“Fuck me,” she barely says.”

“What was that?” He teases her, still rubbing her clit but slower, “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck me, please? I need you to pound me into next week,” she begs, tears in her eyes, overstimulated and dying to be filled.

Franklin smiled and pulled his fingers off. “Condom?” he smirked.

Y/N nodded, watching him grab one from his drawer and roll it over his cock. She spread her legs more and tried to position herself for Franklin to have the most access, “put a pillow under your back,” Franklin told her, “it’ll raise your hips up more so I can get deeper.”

So she did, and Franklin was right. It was the perfect access for him to push himself deeper and deeper into her. Slowly, inch by inch Y/N felt the burn of Franklin stretching her open. She breathed heavily, trying to calm herself and allow Franklin to bottom out. It felt so good, it felt intense, she felt like she was feeling all her emotions in her vagina right now.

She didn’t want to cry, she threw her arm over her eyes in an attempt to look like she was blissed out but she was actually tearing up. She tried to keep a straight face but her lips frowned and quivered as the tears left her eyes.

“Y/N?” Franklin questioned as he pulled out. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he ran his hands along her arm.

Y/N let out a sob as he lunged himself forward into Franklin’s arms to hold him. “I really like you, I’m sorry, this is so intense and amazing I can’t help it.”

Franklin rubbed her back and nuzzled his face into Y/N’s neck. “I really like you too,” he whispered. “So much actually, it means the world to me that I’m doing this with you.”

Y/N pulled back to look at him, her eyes glossy and her cheeks were wet. “Lie down against the pillows please, I want to show you how badly I want you,” she instructed, getting off Franklin and letting him lie down.

She straddled his hips, leaning against him and letting him wrap his arms around her while he slipped back inside. “Do it like this, I need to hold you.”

With that, he thrusted back into her while she pressed open mouth kisses to his neck. She couldn’t actually kiss Franklin while he fucked in and out of her, she was breathing too heavy to close her mouth for a kiss. She pressed his forehead against Franklin’s, holding him so tightly as she enjoyed the moment.

The feelings were back, the intense tightening in her stomach. The butterflies that didn’t stop, the tears in her eyes, only this time it was from immense pleasure. She couldn’t hold back on her noises, making high-pitched moans as Franklin thrusted up into her again and again. She was too close to even warn Franklin when she was close.

“Fuck,” she heard him groan, his hands wandering her back as he held her, smoothing down her back to grip her ass. He used her hips to guide her up and down his cock, fucking her with more want and intensity than anyone else ever has. “Cum for me baby,” he whispers when he knows she’s close.

She follows his instructions, cumming with a shout as her thighs quake and she tightens around him, causing him to thrust in one last time. Moaning as he came as well, Franklin held her there while he filled the condom.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered as she dropped against him.

Y/N wrapped her arms around him so tight she was like an anaconda. “After that, I think I could love you.”

Franklin laughed, “I’m sure there’s some scientific reason for that, my dick isn’t that magical to make you fall in love.”

Y/N kissed him, hard, breathing him in and not wanting to stop. She kissed him again and again, pecking his lips with her own before kissing his whole face. “Thank you,” she whispered. “No one’s made me feel that good in a really long time.”

“If you’d like—

“I’d like anything with you,” she cuts him off, sitting up to look at him with puppy dog eyes, “do you want to date?”

He nods, “I promise I can take you on dates that don’t involve bowling?”

She leans in and kisses him again, “anything,” she repeats. “I’m always down to do anything with you.”

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