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negansbackdoorwhore · 2 years

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Dangerous Game

This was a request from @sparkythefallen1

Warnings: blood, angst, romance, smut

Bounty hunting ain’t easy. But it wasn’t hard either, it was way better pay than any other job could offer. The only thing it cost was having a dead heart. No emotions were involved when it came to killing assholes for your clients. But this one in particular was a doozy. You had many people come to you about him, but it wasn’t the right price. Until a woman of interest came into the picture. She had no way of speaking but showed the offer that peaked your interest. Done.

The first steps was to figure out your target and to find out all the details. You knew from your client he was prideful, ruthless, rude, and a brute. So no mercy against the kill. Next thing, he wore a maroon coat with a black hat, along woth a handlebar mustache. Lastly, how to gain trust from him. Apparently the town you were heading to hated this man already. With the word of him killing a man and an old woman before everyone. So he will die without being missed. To keep a good cover up you went to be a bartender at the saloon.

A month’s time has passed and you knew Henry very well. He would regularly come in to drink himself stupid and talk business with his men. They were pigs but somehow his charm was growing on you. Especially the way he would flirt and call you “Princess”. His first impression wasn’t a good one however. Henry came in to see you and tried sweet talking to get into your pants. But you scoffed at him. Some nights he would flap his jaw about nonsense or in means to brag about himself. You did seem interested in him and he was most definitely pleased. But your attraction to him had to be hidden. Now he’s here again, walking in and looking all sexy.

“Evening Princess.”

“Mr. Delarue.”

You both talked for a moment and he was off with his men. You kept making beer after beer and saw how drunk they become. Especially Henry, he was swaying around and slurring his words. You couldn’t have him here like this, so you closed up. As everyone left, you made sure to get Henry to his bed safely. Upon arriving Henry tossed away his hat and coat onto the floor. While he became occupied with his boots you scanned carefully at his space. Wasn’t much of a housekeeper but not a man of possessions either.

“Princesssss.” You look at him face down in his pillow wearing a cute smile to see his dimples. You walked over and gently lowered your hand to ruffle his hair.

“I think you’re the only person who I actually trust. You’re special.” He muttered out before his eyes shut. You were in shock at what you heard. In a way it’s sad but it also made you frustrated. It was like your heart wanted to beat for him but your mind shut that down. This was an opportunity, in which you reached into your boot. As your blade was brought out you lingered it over his head. You cursed yourself because he should be dead now. In the past it wouldn’t have taken you so long but this was too obvious. You tucked it away and made your exit.

That was days ago and you were summoned to meet your client. She wasn’t too happy to see him still breathing. You then see she brought someone with her to communicate.

“This deal you had is going to expire soon. You are stalling on us.”

“Things are getting complicated. But give me more time.”

“One more week. But if you don’t kill him soon, I’ll do it myself but then kill you afterwards. Understood?”

You frowned at this sudden ultimatum but things needed to be taken care of. It was one thing to loose a job but your own life certainly wasn’t worth it. You decided to skip your bartending and got straight to the point. It was mid afternoon and you were hiding on a rooftop awaiting Henry.

He walked upon the street with his men following, that’s when your scope was lining up to shoot him. This would’ve been much better if he was alone but who cares. You then took a deep breath and took the shot. Once the sound of the bullet hit your ears, you realized that you didn’t hit him in his heart. It was just a few inches away. You saw him instantly fall and his men scrambled to find hiding. You cursed yourself as you left your gun and ran down to go help him.

You ran along the street to his blood painting the dirt. The sight of him made you feel pain that you’ve never felt before. You fell to your knees at his side and pressed your palm to his bullet wound. The blood flow was calming down with the pressure.

“Motherfucker!”

He swore out and went to sit up but couldn’t as the pain was too much. There tears in your eyes as you realized you just sealed your fate because you grew a heart for this bastard. Now was time for action, you hurried to help him stand. As soon as he gained balance you rushed him to the doctor. He wasn’t fatal but he kept swearing about his pain. The gut ate at the pit of your stomach. Especially the sight of him getting wrapped in bandages and how he started to look pale.

“You’ll need bed rest and someone to take care of you.”

“Fuck! Fine, I only want her to do it.” He nodded his head in your direction. You didn’t protest and listened carefully to the doctor’s instructions. He needed to have bandages changed at least twice a day and had to be in bed for a while. Henry hated the idea, you assured him it’s the best thing to do.

A week has passed and you were sure that your ex employer was after you. They had to know Henry was still alive. But you felt safe in a way since Henry had his men guarding the building twenty four seven. It added relief but you still needed to explain yourself. It has been nothing but taking care of him and hearing bitch about the pain. The pain you caused. So you decided to tell him after his bath that night. You were bring fresh linens to lie onto his bed when you heard him stepping out his tub.

“That you Princess?”

“Yes Henry.” You say across the room and hear his footsteps coming into your direction. He didn’t care for covering himself and you had to admit that he had a nice body under all those garments. When he came to sit you laid a towel in his spot before grabbing the bandgaes.

“The bleeding doesn’t look as bad as it was. But there’s still some none the less.”

“I see, hold still while I do this.” You stood before him and slowly began wrapping around his shoulder toward his diaphram.

“Been meaning to thank you Princess. You really came through for me and well you’re doing this bullshit.”

“It’s no problem.” You brush off his words and finish it up nicely before putting the material back into the kit you made.

“Henry. We need to talk.”

“Can it wait? I was hoping to get some sleep.”

“Please?” You say as see him lifting his covers and he sighs as he gets situated underneath. You took a deep breath as you brought yourself to the foot of his bed and sat down.

“I haven’t been honest with you for all this time that I’ve known.”

“How so?” You could feel his anger already brewing and he was looking at you made you tense. But he deserves to know who you really are.

“I was sent here to kill you. I had a mute woman wanting you dead, so for a good price I took the job.” You felt the bed shift and he was sitting up straight with a fire behind his eyes.

“It was really only a job that’s all. But getting to know you and seeing you, I fell in love. So when it was time to kill you I missed your heart and that’s why you’re here.”

There was a silence that filled the room and you were shaking at what could possibly happen.

“Be dressed and ready to skip town by sunrise.”

“What?”

“Just fucking do it.” He hissed and threw himself to lay back down. You were confused but did as he asked. So when morning came you had your couple bags and went to check on him. He was already dressed and insisted on leaving.

“Do you want me to change your bandages?”

“Not yet. Let’s get going, we have a long trip to make.”

He brushed past you and the nervous feeling had been building up into uour chest. There was a small carriage tied to a couple of horses and you saw him toss your belongings onto it. He motioned you to come over and you were being picked up to sit in the uncomfortable thing.

“We are going to New Orleans. And I’m taking you with me because we have unfinished business. My men will stay back for a bit so it’s just us two.”

You only nod in response but gasped when he roughly had a hold of your hands. Without wasting time he had tied your wrists up in some very uncomfortable rope.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you start, after what you told me I can’t trust your ass. So fucking deal with it.” He practically growled and shoved you to sit back down. You groaned at the impact but couldn’t blame him and this aggressive was making you feel more for him. Damn it, you were stuck. You watch him bid goodbye to his men and hopped onto the seat to give the horses the signal to move.

You sat still and endured the long ride ahead of you. Hours had passed and you were bored of your mind along with the rope beginning to leave marks along your skin. The ride was dragged on and occasionally he would stop to give the horses their water. He would also stretch out his legs but you were left, he had pity for a second and gave you a couple sips of his water. But it stopped there as he kept up the journey. That was until sun started to set and he warned you it was time to set up camp. You were left in the carriage to watch him building a fire along with laying out makeshift beds. You were surprised that he made a second one. But you knew you probably had to stay in restraints. Henry stood up and went untie your rope and you felt instant relief. Your hands ran over your red wrists.

“I’ll let you roam a bit, but first give me all your weapons.”

“I don’t have any on me.” He scoffed and you just frowned.

“I swear it! They’re all inside my bags.”

“Fine. Prove it, go on.” He held the pistol that rested on his holster and kept looking at you. Cautiously, you moved to your bags and slowly removed all things deadly. Your guns and a set of knives, it didn’t seem to please Henry.

“Empty your pockets and boots. Now.” He decided to pull his gun on you and aimed for the head. You weren’t shaken up by it but only complied. You shifted your pockets to make sure they turned inside out. Then moved to remove your boots and held them upside down to show there was nothing. He approved by putting away the firearm and moved to make a fire. You didn’t know what to do except sit on one of the blankets.

“You know, I could kill you right now.”

“Yes.” You say as you hugged your knees and looked at him while making a fire.

“So why not run?”

“I deserve to be dead, after all the bullshit I’ve done with my life. Along with hurting the person that means everything to me.” You felt as if your heart was breaking with how he looked at you. There was anger and you flinched as he got closer. He removed his hat and placed it near his bag while you felt anxious on his next move. Henry already made the fire as dusk was turning to night and the air was getting cool.

“Why did you fall for me?” You chose not to answer but that shit wasn’t going to slide with Henry.

“Answer me.” He said sternly while getting closer toward your body and just inches away from making physical contact with you.

“Because, at first I knew how everyone had hate for you. With your brute nature and your crude mouth. But when I started to see you and got to know more about you, it just made me feel things that I have been trying to keep tucked away. And when you said I was special that made me realize that I can’t keep repressing these emotions.”

Henry stared at your face to focus on your expressions and then you watched him leaning closer to you. Without thought your eyes shut and anticipated his touch, after a

minute of staying still your eyes opened to see him on his blanket. You felt flustered and just laid down against the hard ground while Henry giggled to himself. It became dark fast as you watch Henry poke at the fire. The sounds of crackling and the crickets started making you tired. But once your eyes shut, Henry woke you up.

“You think you deserve sleep Princess?”

“Guess not…” You sighed out as you began to sit up.

“I need some shut eye myself. Don’t wake me unless it’s an emergency.”

You nodded and watched him lay against his blanket with his hat rested along his face. For about an hour it was just the sounds of the night and Henry’s snoring that filled your ears. You stared at the stars for that time but then curiosity started to get to you. You gradually made your way to be next to him and did best to keep quiet. As you looked over him you felt your heart starting to beat faster. He was so damn gorgeous. Your hand a mind of it’s own as it went to touch his body. You barely grazed his jacket and felt a spark. You took it further and ran from his forearm toward his shoulder. Keeping up with your pace you ran your fingers to touch his chest.

“What are you fucking doing?” His voice made you freeze and he felt your fingers trembling.

“You gonna answer?”

“Nothing.” You attempt to retract your hand but he shot up and tightly held your wrist.

“It wasn’t nothing. You keep on lying and I’ll kill you.”

You should’ve been scared but this was making your heart race with excitement. To see his eyes go dark and how he was handling the situation. You’d do the same thing.

“I wanted to feel you.” You say and he looked confused before letting go of your hand. He went back to lay on the ground with his back facing you. With that you watched over him through the night until you started to doze off. Your eyes fell shut and you felt a nudge on your body.

“Wake up woman!” You were startled by the masculine voice and looked up to see Henry standing tall before you. Dawn was clear on how the dark of night was gone and the warmth of the sun hit your body.

“Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to but-“

“Calm down Princess. Just get your shit together. I plan on having us in New Orleans by sunset.”

You stood up with wobbly legs as you were just waking up, Henry held your arm to help balance. The touch felt electrifying until he let go. You gathered everything to be put back into the carriage and awaited Henry to put on the ropes. He walked to you and watched you hold your wrists together, without hesitation he pulled out the used material. The same amount of tightness went around your wrists and he picked you up to place in the back. You just sighed as the sun started to bake you on the ride.

“We’re here Princess!” Henry announced as he hopped off the carriage seat and the horses stopped in front of a house well more like mansion. You knew Henry had money but not this much by a long shot. He left you to sit for a minute as he approached a man to talk about whatever he needed to. You stayed put and couldn’t wait for the ropes to come off. It felt like they broke your skin by now. You heard them laugh a bit before the gentleman left on horse, Henry made his way toward you and cut off your restraints. You hissed once the rope was released and saw how your skin would blister later on.

Night time was fast approaching and Henry had already brought in all the luggage along with making sure things were prepared for sleeping. You were drug along his side the whole time so he can keep his eyes on you.

“I reckon we need both could use a good bath, I’ll go first. You stay plant your ass down on that bed while I do my business. Don’t you fucking move from there.”

“Yes Henry.” You say and went to sit on his bed, and watched him leave the room. You sigh and sat in silence, wondering as to why he’s keeping you alive. You thought for sure he would’ve killed you during the night. So for now, you waited for his return. Not long he was back in the room and tossed you a towel along with pajamas.

“Go clean yourself up and bring yourself back in here.”

You went away to the bathroom and saw the tub filled with fresh water and how there was steam rising from it. You wanted to take your time but there was a sense to make things go fast since Henry was expecting you. Quickly washing away the filth and sweat from the past couple days, you exited the tub. The pajamas was a simply night gown and you slipped over your nude body before going back to his room. He was still naked as he stood by the window and sat on the edge of the bed. You assumed you were to accompany him and sat on the opposite end.

“You really love me? Like genuinely?”

“I do. I know what I did is unforgivable but if you have to kill me, then do it.” He looked over his shoulder to see your back facing him and your shoulders were tensing.

“No.” He said in a blunt tone and you looked back at him.

“Please just do it. I know you’re probably waiting on the right place or time.”

“I said no, or is your hearing that bad?” You flinched as the bed moved with his body weight. You anticipated some kind of touch when his presence was growing closer.

“Look at me. Now.”

Your head turned in his direction and he swepted his hair back. You the felt the rough pull of his hand on your arm to pull you toward the center. You felt scared as he had you pinned down while looking over you.

“Show me. Prove how fucking bad you want me.”

“I can touch you?”

“You better.” He smirked and you leaned up onto your elbows and pressed a shy kiss on his bottom lip. Henry let you continue with your light kissed before taking hold of your chin. He smashed your mouth’s together into a demanding kiss that completely dominated you. His tongue wanted access by having you open your lips for him. You moaned against his kiss and wanted more but he denied you. It was like he knew what he was doing and pushed himself to lean up onto his knees.

“That was just a taste. But before I give you anything, I want you to make up for the shit you put me through.“

You didn’t need further instructions and made way to touch him. Henry felt your fingers on his hips to pull him closer to your mouth. His cock already semi erect and you went hold the base before licking his tip. You looked up at him as you slipped him past your lips. The sight of you and how your mouth felt was making grow harder. You could feel it against your tongue.

His patience grew thin and started to thrust his hips forward to feel how his dick started to gag you. Still, you gladly excepted him fully and made him use you. His deep groans filled your ears along with how he was basically fucking your mouth had you feeling. It was turning you on already with how he was fully bare to you and it made you grow wetter to the point of feeling it go to your inner thighs. His fingers grabbed your hair to tug and made you look up at him.

“You’re a good cock sucker. But I wonder is that pussy as good as your mouth?” He pulled your hair roughly to bring his cock away from your lips. You gasped for air and he was already pushing you onto your back. His hand pinning your wrists above your head and the other shoving your gown up enough to have reveal your wet center. You shivered at how his rough touch was all over and the feeling of his hand pushing your thighs apart, it was giving you thrill. He looked pleased with how soaked you were and admired it for a moment.

“Oh shit. You are just dripping for me Princess.”

He guided his cock toward your body and you tensed at first contact with how his tip barely slipped inside. He groaned as your walls were squeezing him and leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Fucking relax.” He said against your skin as his hips started to move. You winced slightly at him opening you up and wanted to touch him but his firm grasp wasn’t budging. You whined at Henry’s cock filling you up and making you squirmed.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted this? Thought you’d do anything for me?”

“I-I do.” You gasped when he started to go harder and you bit your lip trying to keep yourself together.

“Yeah? Then you are going to fucking take me. All of me.” He moaned out and pushed your legs up to fully view you under him. He licked his lips at the sight of you all flushed and the sounds you released was making him crazy. You could feel overwhelming pleasure just by the sight of his body on top of you and his cock being inside you was enough to make you feel happy.

“Henry! I love you! I love you!” It spilled out your mouth over and over as you came closer to your release. He let out a deep moan that immediately went to your pussy at how good he sounded. He was getting close and his hands released your legs and placed them by your head to have you grab onto his body.

“Fucking shit! I’m coming.” He rasped out and you whimpered feeling his release inside of you. You squeezed his skin and he hovered over you as his unruley hair was sticking to his forehead from the sweat. His breath shaking as your legs were quivering. You saw stars for a moment and let out a noise when he pulled away from you.

“Shit. You are fucking gorgeous Princess. I’m going to keep you all for myself. You will be in charge of my men and keep me safe.” He leaned closer to kiss your lips for a quick moment.

“But don’t worry. I’ll protect you too, no one is going to cause you harm.” You faintly smile as he left your side to get on a pair of lounge pants. He quickly joined your side and smirked to himself as you were clinging onto his body.

“I love you.” You whispered and he justed kissed your head.

“I know.”

#jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan fanfic #jeffrey dean morgan x you #the salvation henry delarue #henry delarue x reader #henry delarue

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mask131 · 1 year

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I hadn’t planned for this post, I’m just throwing this right now.

I used to regularly look at channels that covered creepy Internet incidents, weird ARGs, bizarre Youtube videos, the debunking of horror rumors, etc etc... I used ot but I don’t anymore - not because my passion for these videos has stopped, but because so many of those I followed shifted their content to “true crime” and talking about actual murders and suicide cases, and stuff that have nothing to do with either 1- fictional horror or 2- the Internet.

If I want to see “true crime” content, I won’t look at a random Youtube video, I will look for more professional media. And while it is these people’s decisions to run their channels how they want and to go with whatever has the more views on the Internet (we know thanks to the success of some talked about TV series that true crime always attracts more audience), it isn’t why I make this post today.

I make this post to share a very sudden, very new, very fresh unease that just formed itself over this lack of interest I talked about above. One of the channels I regularly followed was ScareTheater, and while I am still following the channel, I have been looking less and less at his videos because, as I said, they are not the type of content I originally followed him for, or they are things already covered enough and much better by the news or experts or actual investigators.

And he just dropped a video today about a disturbing and frightening footage recording some of the last moments and dialogues of divers that got trapped into a pipe and died there. Real-life stuff, a quite recent thing. And upon starting the video it suddenly hit me that this video was just voyeurism. A bad form of voyeurism.

I am not talking about or criticizing the man behind the ScareTheater channel, who seems to be a very decent and kind fellow. But I am talking about the direction his channel (and other similar channels) have been taking, and the shock I had just now. Because... it is a real-life case, as I said before, and the footage from these real life deaths, which is quite disturbing in itself, is not something that went viral or was massively spread over the Internet (at least to my knowledge). It was sought and researched for the making of this video over a pretty popular channel.

I know and I understand that talking about these incidents is needed, and that by sharing the stories of disasters and tragic death we can learn very useful information. I am myself a “fan” (if the word can be used for this) of a channel covering mass disaster and accident-caused deaths, “Fascinating Horror”. But the video of ScareTheater did not felt like a documentary recording the incident - because it was centered around the “horrifying found footage” of the last moments of these people that died stuck in a pipe. The title is about the found footage, the video opens with “Let’s discuss the found footage”, it all relies on us hearing the last words, and seeing the footage... It is about the footage, not the incident, and as a result this made me realize how ScareTheater had fallen (probably unconsciously since it seems to have just been a slow shift many channels that try to cover “true crime” topics fall into) into one of the big flaws of covering actual deaths and recent accident cases. A bad case of sensationalism, by highlighting a very gruesome and disturbing fact (last recorded words, videos of the cause of a death), and playing on the voyeurism of the audience so that the video would be shared and liked.

It isn’t like when he covered last videos or last photos of persons before they went missing - because in these cases, talking about it might help find back the person or understand what happened. And it isn’t like talking about something that happened a very long time ago, so that the case is closed or most people directly impacted/involved by the case are out of the picture. It is still very fresh, and these last moments are incredibly private and horrifying, and to see this shared online massively and used as the subject of a video, when it is still so fresh... it feels perverse. But not that ScareTheater seems to have done it on purpose - but this video clearly works in a way that it will appeal and attract the perversity of the worst voyeurists. This is a bit more than just a morbid curiosity, this feels almost indecent.

Because again - we are not talking of something that was purposefully posted on the Internet by someone part of it. When it comes to disturbing and horrifying footage actually sent on the Internet purposefully, it is important to talk about and analyze it and explain it, because it is already there and people are being exposed to it. But with this... it is something brought onto the Internet, brought onto the platform for people to see...

Honestly I don’t know, I can’t put my words in place. Yesterday I watched a video of disturbing footage found on the Internet - you might have seen the one, with a man filming as his house was being hit by a tornado, and the “man at the door” video of a dangerous criminal coming at the door of the one he wanted to turn into his next victim... And these didn’t felt like voyeurism. It was videos posted on the Internet, it was treated as content to be contextualized and analyzed, it was explained, it was informative of dangers... But tonight I see ScareTheater’s video about the last moments of those stuck divers, before they die, and I am hit with the knowledge that “This video is voyeurism. The bad type of voyeurism bad true crime-info channels or bad criminal magazines use, to form an audience by building on the perverse curiosity to glimpse into the last breath of a dying man or to see what the mutilated and torn up body of a murdered woman looks like, or to assist to the suicide of a desperate person that was in need of help”.

If it was just about the incident itself, about the media coverage, the way the rescue was handled, the reason these divers died, if it was just a video about the accident I probably wouldn’t have felt that - but it was about the found footage, and the last moments, and the last recorded words, as these poor people were stuck in a pipe certain of their death... I don’t know. Or rather I know that saying this invites to a lot of comparison, evaluation and re-evaluation of a lot of other content on Youtube, and opens a whole debate to “Where is the line? Where should Youtubers stop exploring disturbing footage, and what should one post on the Internet when discussing about it?”. It is not an easy debate, and it is precisely because it is such a complex issue that I am left with this “I don’t know feeling”.

But the thing that I am certain of, and that frightens me, is that I had probably grew a bit desensitized and complacent towards the voyeurism of those “death-covering” and “true crime” channels, about the general morbid voyeurism and view-collecting sensationalism of channels that are well-meaning even though in the facts they seem to do things more badly as time goes on... And this video shook me and woke something up in me, and made me go “Wait, that’s voyeurism, that’s not a good way to share this video, and the people who will watch this video probably will do it badly”. I mean, I just looked at the comments and most people just go “I feel bad for those people.” It is a sentence that comes up again and again “I feel bad for them”, “feel bad for them”, “this makes me feel so bad”.

Commenter on Youtube - seeing the last moments, the last recorded words and actions, the last of the life of people who just die isn’t supposed to make you “feel bad”. It is supposed to make you feel deeply disturbed and shocked. It isn’t about it being “uncomfortable”. It is another human being trapped into their death! It is horrfying and sickening and terrifying! One says “I feel bad this guy” when someone’s is the subject of something like a public humiliation, or falls prey for a scam, or has a nasty allergy - it isn’t supposed to be something you say upon watching the LAST OF SOMEONE LIFE! I am not particularly religious, but if there is something sacred in this life and that should be treated with respect, it is certainly the last moments, the last words and the last breath of a living being! It isn’t just some Youtube video you look at and say “Aww, feel sad for me, :( “. NO!

Anyway... I will certainly unsuscribe from ScareTheater, and my dislike of the current state of Youtube will go ever growing - and my suspicions and cynicism towards humanity will blossom a bit more. But I just wanted to share that because honestly I have no one else to share that with, and I want to have it recorded somewhere.

I am not a prude, and if this content is indeed present on the Internet I do think peope should explain it, and talk about it, and contextualize it, and warn people about it. But I am also a man who is for decency, and it is something people on the Internet clearly seem to have forgotten the existence of sometimes. I am sorry this all falls on ScareTheater’s video because clearly he isn’t himself a voyeurist, a perverted or an indecent person, but his video was clearly badly made if it managed to re-open my eyes about the morbid vulture-nature of Youtube.

#i don't even know how to tag this #youtube #true crime youtube #indecent youtube #i don't know

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reflections-on-self · 6 months

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On Having Kids

I believe the most important question that I face in my experience of life so far is the question of whether or not I should have children.

Why do I believe this is the most important question for me?

Well, I am a sexually mature 24-year-old male-identifying individual, who, it appears, has the potential to reproduce human consciousness. Some may contend otherwise, but that's a pretty huge deal, in my opinion. I don't think that this is a huge deal because I in myself am all so important. I think it's a huge deal because the topic deals in the creation of human consciousness itself. This, whatever it is. We can agree on that, right?

I don't know, but that seems like a big deal to me. These words are apparently being typed by a human consciousness. I know this might surprise some of you, but I was a kid once. Two people, a cis man and a cis woman, sometime in 1998, decided to have sexual intercourse, unprotected, and their interaction resulted in the chain of events which led to my creation. Given that I'm capable of doing the same thing, I've recently decided that it's probably a good idea to take some time to consider whether or not that's a cycle I should repeat. Seems like the biggest deal I can think of.

I've been old enough to have kids for some time now. Fortunately, I've recognized that I shouldn't have any until I think I have a stable environment to raise them in. Lately, though, I've been thinking about the state of the world and the things I've learned as I've come of age. It used to never be much of a question as to whether or not I'd have kids, it was always a box that I was destined to check off. These days, though, it's become the biggest question mark taking up space in my head. I can't help but smile when I see a baby, but that smile is joined by a subtle tension within me that seems to ask, "so . . . we doin' this?"

My immediate answer is no, absolutely not.

Now, I do not consider myself a depressed person. I do not regularly experience anxiety attacks, nor have I suffered from any serious traumatic events in my past. I've had pretty bad bumps in the road, but nothing that resulted in an urgent trip to the hospital.

In fact, I generally consider myself a happy person, and I do what I can to recognize the privilege I have in being able to say that. I've been lucky to be able to establish a meditation practice over the course of the last couple of years. I have a stable job in a physical location that I absolutely love. I have supportive family members that have raised me into adulthood, and though there have been problems in the past, my relationship to them has been solid lately. My mother, bless her heart, expects me to have a kid before she's too old to enjoy spending time with them. I live in what is probably one of the safest locations in the world (we'll see how long that lasts with climate change). My health is great, I do not suffer from any maladies that require medicinal routines. I am a rather attractive person and find myself in situations where I'm comfortably flirting with someone or being flirted with. I'm looking forward to a stable, interesting, exciting career that will provide me with a very comfortable income. In short, I have many reasons to believe that I'm living in one of the best moments of my life right now. I have good reason to believe that my life will continue to be stable enough to have and raise a child, maybe even a few. If life could be so good for me, why not give another human being a chance to experience all of this?

Last April, I was on a plane to Las Vegas for my birthday. I had decided to take between 2-3 grams of psilocybin mushrooms on the flight. On that flight, I came to a few realizations that had led me to conclude that I should not have kids. Of course, I understand that the thoughts I had on this subject were greatly influenced by my use of psilocybin. But I don't see that as a reason to negate my experience or the conclusions I believe I made in that experience. If anything, I have often found, whether it was through my own personal experience or the anecdotal experiences of others, that psilocybin has the potential to be a wonderfully genuine, useful, and effective means for exploring the self. I have learned more about this world on psilocybin that has been useful to me than I have learned anything from anywhere else, and I do not believe I am exaggerating.

The first realization that I had on that flight was about my status as an illegitimate child. I've known for a long time that I was a bastard – my mother gave birth to me despite not being married to my father. They never married. Shortly after I was born, I've been told, they mutually ended their relationship. I'd known for as long as I can remember, but it never bothered me until that flight.

The trip on the flight was intense. What I can remember of it now involved a lot of silent crying and agony. I was just a month or two out from losing someone that I still believe I love; the person who is the subject of my first essay, On You, On Me.

Basically, I wondered why I existed and was so well aware of my existence and the beauty of the relationship that I'd just been in if it was all being taken away from me. Truthfully, and, as Suzuki-roshi would say, "strictly speaking," there are no proper words to give the feelings I felt on that trip. It was devastating and beautiful at the same time. Mostly devastating.

I initially came away from the trip with the belief that my life was punishment for my mother and father's concupiscence. That I'd been introduced to the person I love so that I would recognize the existence of God, and that He would take her away so I would learn never to make the same mistake that my father made: creating human consciousness, wantonly, without true regard for the consequence. The consequence being, of course, my subsequent birth and life in this world. My life has been fine. But when I found the person I truly loved and lost them, I think I realized the real danger that comes with being a sentient human. The whole of my life felt like a divine punishment when I viewed everything from that lens. It is a perspective that was brought on by consistent attendance to Catholic Mass, coupled with my own superstitious tendencies and religious upbringing. I was an anxious person, too, often paranoid about doing the wrong thing and frequently questioning my own worth.

It made sense. I grew up in a conservative middle-class community, where most of my friends were born into and raised in picturesque families: mom and dad were wealthy enough to buy their own house, get married, have kids. The marriage part — that was what my mind honed in on. For all of my infancy and most of my childhood, I was raised by my mom and my nana, my late grandmother, with my step-dad only coming into the picture by the time I was around 8-years-old. He and my mother, both Catholic, went on to get married and have two more kids; boys that I consider my brothers, not half-brothers. Regardless, I came to view their upbringings as far more stable than mine.

Though my life has been rather painless, not having my father around for my early childhood had effects that I was completely unaware of until adulthood. Through most of my adolescence into early adulthood, I can remember that I was just plain awkward when it came to cisgendered women and girls that I was attracted to. Of course, I'm my father's son, so I've had a few "successful" relationships in the not-so-distant past - although I was awkward, I wasn't totally unattractive. But overall, was I ever much satisfied, comfortable, around the opposite sex? No. Did I understand what I was doing or have any deeply ingrained context that would have helped guide me through those situations? No. I really don't like to sound like a right-winger (if this is a right-wing talking point), but I do believe that the scientific evidence points to the reality that my father's absence from my early childhood had negative effects on my development and that this was expressed when I was in high school and college. In fact, there is evidence that an absent father at an early age correlates with worse mental health outcomes in men.

I've always identified as a cisgendered heterosexual man. A few years ago, in college, I encountered all sorts of things that gave me the opportunity to explore myself. Chief among all of these was my discovery of Marxism, sometime halfway through my freshman year of college. Marxism provided me a coherent, consistent, and scientific framework with which to look at the world, including myself. I quickly found that most people around me weren't Marxists, but that the ideas that they strove for were. We are, according to Google, socially undergoing a fourth wave of feminism. I took the ideas offered by fourth-wave feminism seriously, and for the most part, I still do take them very seriously. I would not have clarified on my profile or in my writings that you are reading the perspective of a cisgendered hispanic man if I didn't.

My identification as a Marxist went hand-in-hand with my identity as an atheist, which was also a new thing for me in college. That I was an atheist and a Marxist allowed me to take "unorthodox" views on gender and relationships. For example, I experimented with a polyamorous relationship in late college. I also came to see marriage as another bourgeois element of society, a massive social scam that resulted in an unequal distribution of property and the subjugation of women to patriarchal modes of economic living. Finally, for the first time, I was able to interpret the climate crisis materially. This was important, because it led me to conclude back then, rather definitively, that I would not have kids. Long before I ever met and lost the person I love.

Then, of course, I met the person that I love. And she complicates this whole thing. I was nearly certain before I met her that I didn't want to have kids: in this world? With all of its horrors?

But she changed everything. For a brief, beautiful moment, the briefest, most beautiful moment: I felt the call of my ancestors in her presence; the Truth, for this little soul, revealed in the form of the life her kiss breathed into me. I wanted nothing more. Just her, a house somewhere peaceful and with warm weather, and the project that I felt I'd been graciously given stewardship over that was to be our lives together.

Against all of my thinking up to then, I began to believe that I had a purpose in being within the body I am in.

That purpose has been shattered. It no longer exists. I have not heard from her in months and I never had the chance to tell her that I loved her or that it was my greatest wish in the world for us to raise a family together someday. It was a brief fantasy I fell into alongside my love for her. The love is real, the fantasy is not. I have no control over her and I don't want any. I simply truly believed for a moment that she and I belonged together, and felt it so obvious that the conclusion to that reality was bound to be that we'd have kids.

Now, the plan is to hold up the finger to the whole thing.

I don't want kids. God, I think they're so adorable, and I know it deep in my heart that I would be a careful, loving father. I am envious of young couples and their babies. But it is a light, airy envy.

It's a hell of a big responsibility, after all. I wanted that responsibility for a moment, but I'm no longer entranced by any set of ideas toward believing that this is the natural calculus of any relationship I enter. I never will again, so I hope. That all disappeared with her. If this world wanted this very being typing these words to have children, then it'll have to work very hard to get her back into my life and fix whatever's broken.

Because, now, there are no kids coming from me if it's not her. There are lessons that I can appreciate from all stages of my development. I recognize that I truly loved her, and that, if I ever wanted to have kids, I know it in my soul that it'd be with her, only her. I think I am okay to accept that as a truth for myself. But she's probably not coming back. That being the case, I simply have to recalibrate.

I cannot commit suicide. I decided that for certain a few months ago, November 2023. I was in El Salvador with a big group of my family, we were making a heritage trip back to our motherland for a weeklong trip. I was relaxed on a hammock and my mother was dancing around with my other family, happy as a clam. I had been reflecting on what I should do in light of coming to understand that my love might never return. I couldn't do that to her, I thought, staring at my mom. And I couldn't. Even if I don't believe I'd be there to see her suffer. Even if I know that there would be no knowing anymore in that moment, and I wouldn't have to worry about her or my love or anyone or anything else. I couldn't ruin my mom's life like that. She would never have seen it coming.

So I guess the Taoists have won. I'm going to just continue on going. If I learned anything from the Catholics, then it is that I must wear contraception when I inevitably have sex again: wouldn't want my kid wondering why I didn't consider the suffering that I might create by bringing them into a world that I honestly didn't love. Well, I do love this world, because it gave me her, but I don't love this world, because it took her away from me. No good in bringing something here that cannot control its own fate. What loving-kindness is there in that? And if somehow, I lose control of myself, and I let loose a kid into this world: I am truly, truly sorry.

#text #essay #march 2024

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lovedistrict · 1 year

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Hey, this might be a bit of a weird one but I really don't have anyone I can tell.

I've been with my boyfriend since the start of 2020. We were both really happy together for ~2 years, then his habits I dislike started to peak out. He likes to promise, swear up and down that he will do a task that needs doing, and then never get around to it. I tested this with washing dishes and he never touched them, even when we had no clean ones left. He also tends to withhold information that makes him look bad. I didn't know until 1 1/2 years of dating and six months into living at our second apartment together that his parents were paying his portion of our rent money. He'd been spending all of his on gas and weed.

Seven months ago, we packed up our belongings and moved across the US to live closer to his family. We moved in with them and they seem really happy to have us around.

Especially his dad. He would regularly give his son a lot of spending money until his wife yelled at him to stop. He would regularly ask if we needed anything and if we did he would get it for us. We make our own money now but his dad still likes to see if we want anything.

My boyfriend still likes to spend most of his money on weed. When his parents send him out to get something for them he will almost always pocket the leftover money for himself, and I always feel pretty bad about that.

Recently his parents have been fighting. They're both stressed about other things and have had a hard time getting along. On a night that his wife worked, I spent time in their backyard talking with his dad, mostly just letting him vent. It seemed like he needed it.

He started talking about how kind and caring he thinks I am, saying i'm like a daughter he never had. How he likes having me around. How if they got divorced, he would move out and still let me live with him. Things like that.

When the conversation died down, he was just staring at me and smiling. When I went to turn in for the night I gave him a hug and he hugged me back and kissed me on the cheek. It felt like he didn't want to let go. He was pretty drunk but that's somewhat normal for him most nights.

I'll admit my boyfriend's dad is really attractive. He exhibits behaviors that I wish his son had, which definitely influences my feelings towards him. I've had a major spike in my feelings for him since that night and find myself kind of hovering in areas in the house I know he frequently sits.

Any advice?

Hi. So. From what you said I got the idea that maybe you’re not really into your boyfriend as you were in the past. The things you mentioned gave me the idea that you don’t admire him as a man anymore. So I think maybe you should first think this over because it’s just not worth it to be with someone who you don’t really want to be with. It’s wasting time and it’s also not right.

About his dad. Since you’ve mentioned he has some qualities you wish your boyfriend had, I got the impression that maybe you think you’re into him but it’s just the idea of being with a man who doesn’t behave like a boy. Maybe it’s not really him that you want, but a man that’s mature and will have all these other qualities your boyfriend doesn’t have. The way he treated you doesn’t necessarily mean he’s attracted to you. But really just seeing you as the daughter he never had and being happy his son—who he made pretty obvious he loves—is with you. Especially since he was drunk.

Overall I think you should realize if you still want to be with your boyfriend or not. That’s more important.

His dad’s married and married people tend to go through some phases when they argue a lot. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll divorce. Even if he said so. Also. You don’t want to be the one to break up a family, right?

I’m sorry. I’m really not sure what to say.

Hope I could help you. Wish you the best.

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divinefireangel · 3 years

Text

They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

#lee dong wook #lee dong wook imagine #lee dong wook x reader #ldw #strangers from hell #strangers from hell x reader #hell is other people #seo moon jo #seo moon jo x reader #seo moon jo imagine #seo moon jo x f!reader #yandere seo moon jo

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carnal-lnstinct · 3 years

Text

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 "𝐼 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑌𝑜𝑢".

Summary: A series of short one-shots inspired by this prompt, 1-35. I am not going to write all the prompts and I will not be writing them in order, but based off inspiration. To fuel my “horny on main” I may focus mainly on writing for Goku but there may be a few with other characters. Not all fics will be suitable for all ages. Minors should not interact with prompts rated mature/18+.

Completed Prompts: 2 / 4 / 7 / 10 / 16 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 26 / 27 / 31 / 34

31. In awe, the first time you realized it

Pairing: Raditz x Female Human Reader ( full figured reader ) Rating: Mature / 18+ Warning: ( explicit language ) A/N: I didn’t forget about Him™, just had to wait for something to inspire him for me. ♥ listen I stand by the idea Raditz needs a woman who is at least 2-somethin to do somethin idc, idc. Mans ate a whole ass animal ( a tiger I think? all he left was the paws idk ) raw and that’s the only argument I need. I have never written for Raditz in a main role before, but I hope to get a better grasp of his character for any future fics for him. insp: “i don’t like anyone better than you.”

You came home from work with such a foul energy bleeding off you. It was far from a good day, everything that could find a way to get under your nerves had done so successfully, ruining your overall mood for the duration of the day. The smallest things were setting you off and it didn’t help that Raditz was waiting for you ready to complain about how late you had arrived home which would lead to a late dinner.

Raditz now sat precariously at the dining table, large feet upon the surface and balanced on the back legs of his chair. After his grousing tipped you to lash out at him with the stress of the day, he turned as docile as his nature would allow him but still tried to prove you or your bad mood didn’t intimidate him by remaining in eyeshot of you with his pout. He proceeded to watch you after you had shooed him from the kitchen for the second time while you prepared your dinner. You seemed more approachable now, but he decided it best to keep his distance. Compared to how you came home so annoyed and quick to voice it at him, he was relieved you managed to calm yourself down some after you scrubbed the day off yourself with a bath before starting the dinner he regularly invited himself to. “A bum”, you would teasingly remind him of behaving as when he’s lived on the Earth for years now and still comes to you to feed him.

He wasn’t exactly helpful as he hoped to be from the second approach he attempted, only following you into the kitchen after your bath with the suggestion to battle your annoying coworkers with the techniques he showed you, but that only made you more irritated and curt with him. Something about lawsuits and losing your job caught in his ears while the rest was just your temper elevating in your voice, making him unconsciously back down from you and retreat into the open dining room where he currently remains. For some Earthling he just occasionally hung out with, he saw no reason to be so alarmed by your sharp tone and glare. He was a saiyan warrior after all and considered superior to most of his race and certainly to humans. And yet, he’s certain that concept of his nature is why it had unsuspectingly turned him on to see you so quick to snap at him and bind him to the dining room in silent observation. He’s supposed to be mad about it, but despite how he tries to convince himself to be he just finds himself drawn into it as usual. One of the many quirks he found entertaining about a human, opening him up to the other attractive things about you. Though, he was frustrated that his attempt to help just made it worse again. You’re still his friend.

It was one thing if he intended to tease you until you’re annoyed with him, that’s the glue in your friendship with each other, but it’s different when something or someone else upset you like this. It killed the fun of it, your comebacks were venomous instead of playful. He did mean to help however flawed his execution had been to take out the human works of your job. He could just go and take out the entire building, but even that felt barbaric to his new perspective as an adopted Earthling. Thanks to his little brother and fellow earthling warriors. He’s better than that now. But there should be something he could do to at least keep you from being annoyed with him undeservingly.

Raditz recognized this scene of him contemplating your issue as his own like something out of one of those cheesy, romantic tv dramas you enjoyed so much (he has totally finished a season or two with you “for the action”). You in the role of the female lead doing some mundane thing like preparing a meal that’s glorified in the eyes of her love interest and audience, toiling with defeat in your heart over a problem that seemed grand to the story of the day until it’s inevitably resolved at the end with the love interest’s help. The story patterns became so obvious and boring to him after a time, but he’s still able to see the goal in the story and that’s to have everyone as happy as possible in the end.

Could he consider himself that in this scenario, your love interest? Someone to swoop in and save you from the big bad of the day, be your knight in saiyan armor? You’re not his wife, nor had he ever openly claimed you as his, but he has always felt drawn to you ever since you met as the lovestruck hero always does. You had a temper back then too, and you’ve been on each other’s nerves to this day as if it’s needed to fulfill your very souls. It was safe to say you were good friends. Out of the seven days in the week, he did plan each one around spending time with you when not gathering with his little brother and royal counterpart to train or reminisce of what they could recall of their lifetime of space travel. But Raditz realizes when nothing else was going on for him he would find himself waiting at your home for you to get off work to bug you. Unconsciously drawn to your place for your company despite everyone else that has come into his life after arriving on Earth.

It never occurred to him to settle down on this planet the way Goku had with his wife, or Vegeta with Bulma in his own way. Maybe fuck a couple of the ones he deemed good enough, but never really got around to that. And sure, he had a home for himself but it was admittedly a lonely place to him where he slept and recovered his wounds. He remembers a place that felt safe like that normally had a pleasing atmosphere for him such as his mother’s voice and food, and occasionally his father’s stories when he was present. Even when he was assigned to his squadron, he still had Nappa and Vegeta for a long time. That was a different kind of loneliness, but as long as he kept his head down and showed his worth he was never truly alone.

Only when he came to Earth in search of his little brother did he experience true defeat in his solitude. True loneliness. The concept of comradery has always been his interest deep down, it was everything for Raditz to be a part of something grand. The Saiyan race, The Frieza Force, inevitably the Earth Warriors he came to trust with his life and vice versa. Such an ideal made it so easy to accept you as a friend.

That’s not even getting into how he has always viewed you as physically attractive as well. From the pout in your full lips to the voluptuous curve of your physique, to every bit of dirt in your humor and personal flavors in the way you prepare your meals to share with him. You may not be as wealthy as Bulma or doting as ChiChi, but you did have a little more to you that locked you in his life as much as anyone else. You could easily fit in among other saiyan women if you were born one, you carried the will of a warrior and the snark to charm any man who wasn’t afraid of your bite. Given further thought, Raditz is grateful for the bonds he has but he is sure he doesn’t like anyone more than you.

If you were to become his...

His pout fell away, dark eyes watching you more gently. The idea of you as his wife suddenly consumed him. It was like a desired dream for the future playing out in a flash before his eyes. He could have you all to himself, take control of things that annoyed you and deal with them. Make it so only he was the only thing allowed to make that pretty pout on your face. And you would love that. He hopes you will love that. Why wouldn’t you if he gives himself to you in return? It’s an even deal-- a steal even with his worth-- his life for your life. He can see you as you are now, moving about the kitchen preparing a dinner to feed your household, but with your belly round with his baby. And you’re happy, forever glorified in the eyes of your love interest. There would be no room for loneliness.

It didn’t help his mind to stray from less romantic thoughts and find more dirty ones watching you now, taken by this desire to make you his wife and steal away your unspoken loneliness living here by yourself. How your oversize shirt fitted each curve of your body, hanging just above your thighs but a little higher when it fell down your ass and a slight jiggle in your hips when you shifted on your feet tempted a darker need in the saiyan. Your shorts beneath the top fitted almost like underwear, revealed more with every high reach you made that stretched the shirt up higher and higher. A sensation spreads across his chest and he sits up in the chair, feet planting loudly on the floor. Wait a minute..

“(Y/n),” Raditz called you, demanding your attention. “That’s my shirt...”

“Stop leavin’ your shit around like you live here then.” Still snippy. Raditz’s heart jumps and his saiyan tail flicks.

You take a deep breath to pull your sour mood back in, realizing too late you were still attacking the wrong person for its bitter state. Hearing the chair rock and his steps come back into the kitchen, another sigh falls from you. You were expecting some “respect the oh-so-powerful saiyan" monologue to hit your ears. You try to beat him to the punch by holding out a hand to halt him in your peripheral vision before he can get closer. “-I know, I know. Sorry. Just, go away until the food is done. Go do some push-ups or something.”

His body pressed into your open hand in his approach and you felt the distance between you close, a large hand grasping your face to turn it up to him and a rough kiss pressed to your confused mouth. It froze you, mind briefly emptied from anything else around you. He pulls away snapping you from the approaching haze and moves behind you. Lowering to his knees, his large fingers are felt under your shirt and brisk air hits your exposed loins when he rips your bottoms down, heat filling in its place when his face pressed into your wiggling ass. His hands fill with each cheek, a firm squeeze with an approving hum at the way it shakes in his hands, and then separating them enough to guide his tongue to your exposed warmth. A long, languid wiggle of this wet appendage to savor the flavor and open you up.

“Raditz!” You squeak, a jolt of pleasure stiffening you as you gripped the counter to your side and his hand behind you. “I-I’m over the stove! What are you doing!?”

“I’ve had a change of appetite.” He declares, returning his tongue to your body and penetrating your cunt to explore the sweet flavors within, pulling you further back against him. Your legs trembled at the sensation, further falling into the pleasure and giving away to the support of his strong hold to keep you in place when his thumb pressed and drew around your clit. He practically purred in his delight of you, inhaling the scent of your freshly bathed skin and how it mixed with your growing arousal. You managed to grasp the knob of the stove to turn it off before conceding to your arousal, the greater strength of the needy saiyan finally pulling you down into his lap where two of his fingers replaced his tongue in your wet hole and his mouth once again claiming yours.

“Be mine.” Raditz pleaded against your lips, this needy growl growing between his rough kisses, tail wrapping around your plush thigh. “Be mine, (y/n).”

#My writing #raditz x reader #raditz imagine #raditz #dbz imagine #dbz fics #DBZ #Dragon Ball Z #nsft #lemon #*TWYSILY

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brostateexam · 3 years

Note

Could you tell us more about your bfs?

Ok first of all, I love that one of you made an alt to ask me this question cause I have anon turned off. Or alternatively, that an anon was like "I'm invested enough to make a blog for this one." Either way, I find the attention very flattering, so thank you!

Shane and I have been together for three years and three months now, and have lived together for three years. We met through tumblr, which is embarrassing but true. Sometimes you're gay and your mutual is bi and lives nearby and you become buddies, then friends, then confidantes, then boyfriends. Because we were so close, I felt okay with having him move in soon after dating -- it felt like the right thing, even though at the time I was terrified it would be a mistake.

Since Shane is on tumblr, he will read this eventually, but it's basically Valentine's Day, so I'm fine with publicly declaring that I love this man, and expounding on some of the things I love about him. Shane is one of the kindest people I have ever met. He does not talk quickly, but what he has to say is unfailingly supportive of his friends and loved ones. He is automatically in your corner, ride or die, no matter what the decision is. He inspires me, every day, to be more patient, more understanding, more gentle, and more kind.

In addition to being sweet, he is hard-working, and goes about goals that many would find impossible with impressive tenacity. When he moved to San Francisco, he knew he had to land a job and I told him I needed him to make friends outside of my friend group, because I think it's important to have one's own friends. Within a month, he was working two part-time jobs and had connected with a non-profit volunteering to raise money to help homeless HIV+ folks to afford treatment, care, and housing. Through this non-profit, he made tons of friends, and regularly goes to brunch or on picnics or trips to Palm Springs with them.

At this point, he's back in school to finish up his bachelor's degree, which is he doing while working part-time, going to the gym five times per week, being a great boyfriend, a caring son, and a wonderful friend. I am impressed by him every day, and humbled that he has chosen to share his life with me.

Tristan and I met, also online, in November. On discord, actually, and even before I knew his real name, I found him fascinating. Something in me said "you need to get to know this guy. He's going to be important to you." So we ended up talking every day since, sometimes just for a little bit, sometimes for hours.

I am impressed by Tristan's intelligence and level-headedness. It's hard to explain, as well, but we just have a lot of stuff in common. Similar sense of humor, similar interests, similar opinions in video games, even. That never happens to me. As a for instance, today I asked him if he'd be interested in helping me restore furniture, because that's been something I've always wanted to do, and he's very good at repairing stuff. It turns out that his mom ran a stay-at-home business doing that and he helped her with it, so he knows all about it, and loves doing it. Something like this happens between me and him almost every day.

He's funny, an endearing combination of confident and sweet, and kind of woke me up mentally. Seeing him work so hard to get after what I wanted made me realize that I'd allowed the pandemic to stall me out from going after what I want. So beyond just pursuing him, I've been pursuing my interests and dreams again, and I'm a lot happier for it. It helps that he's been nothing but encouraging of these endeavors, as well.

Also, I find them both just like unbelievably attractive. So yeah! I hope that answers your question, Mx Sideblog. Feel free to leave follow-ups if you wish :)

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

His Obsession.

Mob!Seb x Housekeeper!Reader

Run-through: You work for the notorious mob boss. You’re at his house regularly; tidying up and cleaning and surprisingly you’re not scared of him like the rest of his staff are. Sure he is authoritative, and mean but he’s never disrespectful or inappropriate, nor does he bark orders at you like he does with the guys. And you were almost certain that he barely pays attention to you. Until one evening he confronts you about something. And what starts out heated, ends in a night neither of you will ever forget…

Themes: mob!seb (because I miss him), jealous!seb, housekeeper!reader, angst, fluff, dark (ish) mob!seb

a/n: this is my thank you note to all of you :) Enjoy!

“Miss Y/N? Could you come here for a minute?”

You heard the sound of your boss’ voice. His voice.

Sebastian… You stop right at the stairs and turn around to find him standing by the door of his magnificent bedroom. One which you had cleaned and tidied just this morning itself.

You nod and he immediately walks back into his room and leaves the door open. Your heart pounded, and your body felt all cold for a second. Had you made a mistake? Was there something you did which he didn’t like?

You had heard from the butler a while ago that your boss once fired a guy for parking his favorite car in the wrong spot. The mob boss, after all, was a perfectionist. He was a very proper man with rules and regulations which had to be followed within the walls of his home. Hence, you were nervous like never before as you entered his bedroom.

He was sat on the dark grey couch by his bed, looking down at his phone and sipping on his liquor. The couch which always seemed so comfortable, and soft. But you never dared to even touch for too long, afraid to you might ruin it.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find him attractive. He was hot. He was perfect; mean, intimidating, and powerful. All of him screamed danger; but he was also the kind of man one feels naturally drawn to. His effortless bad boy charm, his authority and how he took control in the span of seconds made him lethal. Gorgeous, but lethal.

“Yes, sir?” you spoke up, trying to get his attention.

He looked up immediately and he had that no-nonsense look on his face. Oh you knew that look all too well. Earlier this week, he had the same look on as he punched the living shit out of a member of his gang who was sent to spy on his by a rival gang.

You realized that right now, as your boss looked at you, he was angry. His blue eyes were cold, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver.

He spoke, “Yesterday was your day off, no?”

You nodded. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly through his nose; another sign pointing to his current bad mood.

You tried not to seem too intimidated by his stern gaze. “Yes sir.” You responded, still unsure of where he was taking this. Could it be perhaps that someone had messed up something while you weren’t here yesterday? But that still wouldn’t explain why he couldn’t just tell you outside.

Why did he have to call you into his room?

As soon as that question crossed your mind, Sebastian got up and walked over to you. His phone in one hand, and his drink in the other. He approached you as you stood by the end of his bed; slowly, steadily and making your heart race.

He stopped right in front of you and put his phone screen right in front of your face, showing you a picture. “Care to tell me about what’s going on in this picture?” he tilted his head to the side and stared deep into your eyes with his stormy ocean blue ones.

In front of you was a photograph. A picture of you at the club last night. You were sat on a stool by the bar, talking to a guy. His hand was on your thigh and you remember how much he was making you laugh.

You were shocked at first as you took in the details. A picture of you, out clubbing with some friends and this guy you met a few weeks ago. In fact after last night, you concluded that it’d be better if you were just friends.

“Why do you have my picture? Who took this?” you asked, keeping your calm with your boss even though you were quite irritated. Mob boss or not, how dare he spy on your personal life?

Sebastian smirked, definitely not finding anything amusing. “You tell me why you’ve been out and about with my rivals.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Rivals… what? It couldn’t be, the guy said he worked at… wait, the guy didn’t say anything about his work.

“Your rivals, sir?”

Sebastian locked his phone and threw it carelessly on the couch then turned to face you again. “Now, what does that say about me, Y/N? Why is someone who works for me, out and about with my rivals in my own club?”

His club… that explains how he must’ve have gotten the phototgraph. His people must have sent it to him. But why were they watching you?

“I didn’t know anything about all that. Why do you have people spying on me?” your irritation was taking over little by little.

He stared at you for a few more seconds as he recalled all that happened yesterday…

-flashback-

Sebastian was at home, in his study when his phone rang. He saw that it was the manager of one of his clubs calling. Weird.

He answered rather annoyed, “What is it?”

The guy spoke up, nervously. “Boss uh, your girl is here.”

Sebastian froze.

“Who’s she with?” was the first thing which came to his mind. You were at his club which meant that you couldn’t possibly be alone. For some reasons, the thought of you out clubbing with another man made him want to punch something.

Yes, he was completely spellbound by you. The big bad mob boss had lost his heart to his daily. How could he not?

You were kind, and patient and always filled the house with warmth whenever you stepped in. Not to mention that the first time he saw you, you took his breath away. And no woman had ever done that before. And from that very moment, Sebastian found himself thinking about you constantly;

When he was at work. When he wasn’t at work. When he was in a boring meeting. Even when he was in the company of other women, he was obsessed with the thought of you.

However, it was hard to get you alone and talk to you. You were always busy and he was always surrounded by his guys or his guards. And he couldn’t seem all soft with his guys around. Although, he often worried about what would happen if you find someone else. Someone less dark and dangerous, someone with a less tainted reputation than him.

You probably deserved it, but he couldn’t let that happen. No, you were his. And he would treat you like a queen, if only you’d notice him…

He tried to talk to you often, calling you up in his room for absolutely no reason. Sometimes to help him tie his tie, or other times to steam his suits. He liked having you around, but he also knew that you would never see him in that light, given who he is.

But despite that, he wasn’t going to give up. He wanted you. Needed you. Craved you. Desperately. He needed you in ways he hadn’t thought were humanly possible. He wanted you in his arms, preferably without the black uniform and little white apron you wore each day. He wanted you in his bed, naked and lying on his sheets as he shows you how well he can treat you. Oh he would treat you like a queen.

And now he learnt that you’re out and about with another man. He was pissed. The manager’s response made the mob boss see red. He was almost ready to drive all the way there and punch the fucker you were with in the face and drag you to his home.

But no, he wouldn’t do that. So you were out clubbing with his rival gang members. Oh he’ll deal with it. “Send me a picture. And follow the guy when he leaves. Also make sure Y/N doesn’t leave with him, you hear me?” he barked on the phone.

“Yes boss.”

-end of flashback-

“Because you’re mine.” he said it in an authoritative tone which both angered, and excited you. It was a confusing feeling, but you didn’t hate it entirely.

“Excuse m-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you by the waist with one arm and pulling you into him. “You heard me. Now answer me babygirl, why were you with this guy last night?”

Babygirl? Oh the audacity of this drop dead gorgeous man…

“With all due respect sir, my personal life is none of your business.” You sounded less confident than you intended to and it make Sebastian smirk.

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “Is that how it is now?” he pressed your body further into his, allowing you to feel that hard muscles of his tones body along with his body heat. “You’re gonna talk back to me?” he leaned in and nuzzled your cheek, making your heart race, “Disrespect me?” he chuckled right in your ear before pressing a kiss on the shell of your ear. You shivered at his voice.

“I don’t-,”

He cut you off again by pulling away and looking into your eyes. His stare was intense and hot, and so distracting that you didn’t realize his hand was making its way under your skirt. “You dare talk back to me?” he sounded amused, his hand reached further up your inner thigh and you shivered under his touch, “Even when you’ve been out and about, being a little whore,” he whispered, “with my rivals?”

You gasped at his choice of words, and how his fingers gently stroked along your clothed core. Where was this coming from? You also gasped at how you liked it. “I… I didn’t know.” you mumbled as you tried to hold back a moan which threatened to escape your lips due to his salacious actions.

He chuckled, applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throbbing clit and he noticed how you squirmed in front of him. “But now you do. And I’m gonna make sure that you remember from now on that you,” he leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours, “belong to me.”

You felt hazy as he pulled away from you just a couple of inches. Your heart pounded. Your body was on fire, your mind only being able to focus on only one thing – him. His mouth. His body heat. You wanted him closer all of a sudden. So close that you almost began leaning into his touch even more.

You hadn’t realized that the palms of your hands were pressed against his chest. He felt warm, and muscular. Fuck…

“Kneel.” He simply said and you were immediately in a trance. You lowered down on the carpeted floor instantly, on your knees. Sebastian just smirked and caressed your cheek gently. “I want your mouth around me. Come on, make me cum.”

That damn authoritative and powerful tone sent shivers down your spine. You quickly undid his zipper and pulled down his briefs. His hard cock stood proud and tall in front of you. Your mouth watered shamelessly at the sight of it. Thick and big, you realized you wanted him just as much.

He was bigger than any one of your past partners, and that excited you. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his length and you placed the tip against your lips, kissing it and feeling the pre cum coating your lips. You pushed your mouth against it, taking in the tip and swirling your tongue around him.

He groaned, his hand holding your head and guiding you further down his cock. You took him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch; his raw taste drove you crazy. And so did the sounds which left his mouth. Sebastian slid his hand through your slightly messy hair and gently guided your mouth up and down his cock; while slowly sipping on his liquor at the same time.

You bobbed your head around his tip a few more times and soon, he came in your mouth; sending his seeds down your throat. You swallowed whatever he gave you, and stood up after you did so.

He gripped your hips tightly as he dipped his head into the crook of his neck. His hand slipped under your skirt again and he dragged your underwear down your thighs. He placed his fingers against you and rubbed your wet folds again. You couldn’t help but moan, desperate for his touch despite this whole situation being wrong.

“Hmm. You did good, babygirl.” he whispered along your collar bones as he licked and bit the skin; leaving marks behind. Claiming his territory like he always wanted to. “But I’m not quite done with you yet.” He sounded mischievous.

He lifted his glass up to your lips. Still hazy and heart pounding, you parted your lips slightly as he tilted the glass at your lips and let some of the liquor into your mouth. You immediately liked the taste, it burned just a little as you swallowed. However he smirked and tilted the glass more than he should, and the contents went over the lip and down the sides of your mouth – dripping down your chin, your neck and your somewhat exposed chest which was making him go crazy as it is.

“Oh,” he pointed out, pretending as though all that wasn’t down on purpose, “Such a messy girl.” He sighed dramatically while undoing your apron, followed by the zip at the back of your uniform, “Now I have to clean you up.” He looked into your eyes and smirked.

You caught the naughtiness in his eyes. And next thing you knew, you were being pushed back onto his bed; half naked already. “Lay down for me sweetheart.” He ordered and you hesitated for a moment.

“Should we-,”

He cut you off by holding your jaw gently in his grasp. “Shh.” He let go of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips. His tongue gently stroking your lower lip, gathering the liquor which dripped earlier. Then his mouth trailed downwards, kissing your neck, your collar bones down to your breasts – licking and kissing and leaving behind his marks on your skin.

Your body felt hot. Burning under him as he took his time and kissed every inch of your skin. “I’ve always wondered,” he spoke up as he pressed kisses down your chest, “how sweet you must taste. And now look,” he chuckled as he kissed further down, “I get to figure it out finally.”

Maybe it was the sound of his deep voice laced with lust, or maybe it was the confession about how he thinks about you in such an intimate way; regardless, it only fueled the fire deep within you. Supporting yourself up on your elbows, you looked down at him all settled and ready in between your legs. Then you saw the shift in his eyes.

He was all cocky a second ago, but now he was feral. His fingers found their way in between your legs as well, carefully parting your wet folds before slipping inside you. Your body welcomed him in with ease.

Then his following question made your heart race. “Did he touch like this last night?”

You widened your eyes. Does he think that you slept with the guy? “What, no. I-,”

Sebastian leaned in again, and hissed in your ear. “He better not have. Else he won’t live to see another day, babygirl.” His fingers stroked you gently. “You should know, I don’t like sharing. Especially not my girl.”

Fuck… he was messing with your head so easily and wonderfully, and you were letting him.

Sebastian smirked, speeding up and finger-fucking you faster. You whined and squirmed but you wanted more. Oh you wanted more.

You threw your head back and whined loudly, your body betraying you as you felt your walls clench around his fingers. He smirked. “Oh? You wanna cum, is that it?” he leaned in closer, whispering against your mouth, “You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” he teased; chuckling darkly.

You moaned, and whined and tried your hardest to keep quiet but you ended up being loud anyways. His touch, his stare, his words… his cold rings pressing against your hot body each time he pushed his fingers deeper inside of you.

You wanted more. And he knew. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe, kissing along your jaw and biting down on your skin occasionally as his fingers took you higher…and higher, “So perfect… and all mine.” he bit down on your neck as you squirmed; wanting so desperately to crush his arrogance at once, but also wanting him to dominate you. “Cum for me. Now.”

You let go, allowing the warmth to take over you. Releasing and savoring the sweet pressure in between your legs and you came with a strained cry all over his fingers; coating them with your arousal and making his bite his lip and swear at the sight of you so… disheveled.

Your underwear was off, your bra unhooked, your little black uniform on his bedroom floor and your almost naked body on his bed sheets – this was all Sebastian’s ever dreamt of. This moment right here, and now that he had you; he wasn’t going to be easy on you.

“You’re mine.” he repeated. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm that you didn’t realize his mouth was on you again. Closer. Hotter. And determined to make you cum again, his mouth latched on to your core, the lower half of his face completely submerged in between your folds.

You moaned out loud, involuntarily, as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, “You taste so good, babygirl.”

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His mouth felt good. So good that you wanted more and more with each passing second.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the cool satin sheets for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. Intense and hot, just like his touch. He was taking over you and you were letting him yet again. He was hard to resist, you knew that since day one.

“You’re gonna cum for me, is that it, hmm?” he whispered and got back to teasing your clit with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

“Please, please….” You murmured. He chuckled, his warm breath fanning your wet folds.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” He whispered, biting down on your hip bone before kissing his way back to your clit.

Your eyes flew shut and you whined, and begged – not caring if you sounded coherent or not. Once satisfied, Sebastian got back to eating you out like there was no tomorrow. The pressure in between your legs was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face; your eyes watering.

He didn’t stop, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you. He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you. He had that same feral look in his eyes, the desire unhidden. Shameless, and raw. Passionate. He wanted you and he wasn’t hiding it. He wanted to own you. Ruin you in the best way possible. “Get on your hands and knees. Now.” he ordered and proceed to finish his drink before he was onto you again.

Discarding his expensive suit, lifting your hips up and securing an arm around you; you knelt in front of him on the bed, legs spread apart, hands gripping the sheets while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you. Plotting all the ways in which he could play with you.

Sebastian trailed a finger lazily up your spine before sliding his fingers into your hair. He gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so he got your full attention. His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You could feel his warm skin, and his hard on pressing against your butt. And your heart raced in anticipation.

“You’re gonna take me nice and good, aren’t you baby?” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. You whined and nodded, unable to hide the fact that you wanted him bad. So bad.

His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you. “Good girl.” He noted and gripped the sides of your hips tighter. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you. You were all wet and ready for him, and he slipped inside you with ease.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he buried his cock into you. Your knuckles gripped the sheets tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive and sore from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the bed long ago.

“So fucking good… you’re all mine…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words. The air around you smelt of sex, sweat and Sebastian’s cologne.

He pounded into you like his life depended on it. Stretching you out and filling you up each time he rammed his cock into your entrance. You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him. You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin.

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling your orgasm so close that you could almost feel it taking over you. But just as you were right on the edge, he pulled out and flipped you around. His rough manner of handling your body turned you on even more.

He smirked when he saw the look of surprise on your face. “Can’t give it to you that easily now, can we?” he chuckled. “I want you to beg for it.” He parted your legs, and settled in between them again, his cock slipping inside you once again. “Beg for me.”

His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out ragged breaths. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him. While he fucked you raw, his hand moved up to your throat again. His fingers wrapped around your throat and forced you to open your eyes and look into his. “I said,” he growled, “beg.”

A thin layer of sweat formed on his face, as he fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your lips parted as you gasped. “Sir please… please make me cum…” you whined, “I need you-,” you cut yourself off, moaning wantonly as he filled you up nicely.

He grunted and moaned shamelessly right in your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace. He pounded into you incessantly. You could feel the headboard knocking against his bedroom wall, and the sound echoing around the room, along with your moans and his growls.

“Are you gonna cum? Do you deserve it, huh?” he mocked you, his hand reaching up and grabbing your jaw tightly in his grasp. “Look at me, babygirl.” He urged you to focus on him, despite knowing that you were barely able to concentrate on anything other than how well he was fucking you.

You stared into his eyes; tears escaping your eyes, lips swollen and bruised, neck littered with his bite marks, and your eyes just as wild and passionate as his. “Are you gonna remember now? That you belong to me?” He stayed still inside you for a moment, letting you feel just how big he was. You whined and groaned as he stretched you out like no one ever did. “That you’re all mine?” he growled.

“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumbled, pleading him with your eyes. Begging him to let you cum.

Sebastian saw the desperation in your eyes. The silent plea. He knew you wouldn’t be able to take it any longer. But he had to make himself clear. “Tell me, who do you belong to? Hmm?”

“You.” you gasped. Please…

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you gushed out around his cock; moaning and squirming in the process. He moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you, filling you up again.

He didn’t pull out. He just kept his throbbing cock carefully buried in you as he lowered his face and pushed it into the crook of your neck. Both of you panting and wondering; what the hell just happened, and how did it escalate this quickly.

You recovered and tried to move, but failed miserably. Sebastian noticed and smirked to himself despite the fatigue.

“Come here,” he spoke gently pulled you into him. You settled in comfortably into his side, surprisingly. His body was warm, and he smelt familiar. “Get some sleep. I know you’re tired.”

You widened your eyes and looked up at him. He smiled and reached out to caress your cheek. “Sorry if I hurt you. I- I can’t see you with someone else.” He repeated again, “You’re mine.”

You sighed. “I work for you.” you pointed out wearily.

He scoffed. “Then congrats, you’re fired.” He said it like it was nothing. You sighed and tried to scoot away but his grip was strong. “Hey, I’m serious.” He argued. “Stay, don’t go.” He pleaded.

You were too weak and worn out to move anyways, besides his bed was comfy so you stayed. You were quiet for a minute then you spoke up. “What happens now?” you asked.

He chuckled, and his tiredness could be heard. “Now I ask you out, and you say yes. And we live happily ever after.” He answered.

You rolled your eyes. “And my job?”

“Baby, I have enough money to last us a couple of lifetimes.”

“I refuse to be dependent on you. And certainly not a burden.” You sounded tired too.

“None of that. You’ll be my queen.”

You snuggled closer to his warm body as he covered your naked body carefully with the soft blanket. “You’re so bossy. And controlling. And mean.” You mumbled, half-way asleep.

He gave you a sleepy chuckle. “Yeah but you like me. And don’t you dare lie, I’ve seen the way you look at me.” He argued.

You chuckled faintly, eyes closing on their own. “Bossy and controlling and mean, but handsome.” You corrected yourself.

“Hmm.” He liked how he was right. “Now go to sleep babygirl, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and whispered, “I’m gonna place the world at your feet if you just ask for it. Don’t you worry about a thing, angel. You’re mine now, everything will be alright.”

At last, his girl was finally here with him. Totally, and entirely his.

---

a/n: thank you for 14K followers Sin Army! I love you guys so much. I’ll add the tag lists tomorrow I promise ;)

#sebastian stan au #mob!seb #mob!seb x reader #mob!seb smut #cherry!seb #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan

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rogueshipagogo · 2 years

Text

the time has come. for my big JaneAce Manifesto. i’ve been talking about them a lot for the better part of an entire year on my dead by daylight twitter, but i havent been posting about it Here, or really Anywhere that is easy to access and doesn’t just disappear into the ether after a few weeks. but i really like them and genuinely think they are among the better m/f [not straight. There is a difference] dbd ships, and there’s probably been a Noticeable uptick in content about them since i started uhh requesting it and commissioning it and spreading the word about how epic they are over on That website, so- why not on This website??? buckle up for lots of rambling and big reaches over this games tiny scraps of lore. also sorry if you’re looking at this on mobile, for some reason it keeps getting random formatting issues that literally dont exist in the copy im posting from my laptop so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ its just gonna be kinda ugly

it is simply economical to ship the two hottest characters in any given series. when you ship janeace, you are speedrunning looking at some sexy old people having fun being in love. it’s not rocket science. thread over

no actually. anyways. OK so. this all started bc. a long time ago. i was playing a game as ace where i had a rainbow map and the lens that lets everybody on your team see what you're looking at, right. and i was going around looking for totems and chests and the exit when i realized there was a jane player following me who was pointing at the stuff that was glowing with my map and dancing around all like ‘woah i want that thanks for finding it’. i thought that was rly cute so i moved out of the way to let her open the gates and take down all the totems and have whatever was in the chests whenever she found me. and then the game was over.

But that rly cute interaction just kind of gave me brainworms. afterwards i couldn't stop thinking about how funny it would be to imagine that scenario having dialogue and jane just marching up to ace opening up a chest like ‘hey. Can i have that’ and also how fun and good they would be as a ship if you didn’t look at it like the classic ‘opposites attract’ scenario, and more as if they actually weren't very opposite at all, and were in some ways Very compatible, they just had completely opposite circumstances that made them seem, on the surface, like they were from 2 separate worlds entirely.

like, there’s a handful of janeace content that existed before i got into the dbd fandom, right, and its not Bad?? but it tended to have vibes of ‘this is a stereotypical relationship between a super laid back toxic levels of egotistical manchild and a super uptight prudish nagging woman’, like some sitcom straight people meant to entertain jaded cishet 45 year olds. And i Guess i understand why that’s the obvious trope to apply to the concept of them dating each other. and i Guess i understand why people in the dbd fandom got that impression of them, and decided they Hated shipping them, if it was just going to be nothing but ace being like ‘haha you are so sexy and i am so immature why dont you just be the more responsible one forever’ and jane being like ‘noo stupid man i am so much smarter than you i am le epic girlboss and you are perpetually mentally 25 years old so now i have to be mean to get you to do anything’

but that interpretation is entirely reliant on bad faith takes on Both of their personalities!!

its easy to see jane as a flawless queen of everything without a loosey goosey bone in her body, but that ignores things like her painter cosmetic, where her face and hands are Covered in paint and all her brushes tucked into her hair; or the lines in her biography about her early days as a radio host, where she was fired within months for making too many ad libs and being ‘too frank’; or the fact that her rockabilly cosmetic is from an episode of her show... implying she regularly wears costumes on her show. shes literally from new jersey

its easy to see ace as a lazy asshole who only knows how to manipulate people- but that ignores things like his waiter and fisherman cosmetics, where he’s making an earnest effort to earn money doing honest [enough] work, but simply suffers from low self esteem if he feels inadequate and unprepared, and routinely goes back to being a gambler out of convenience.

i’d also like to take the moment to point out how they Both struggle with mental health issues. i think there’s a tendency in the fandom to gloss over a lot of the issues they write jane as having, making her seem perfect and mature and universally appealing with very few flaws, And a tendency to act like ace’s issues are all there is to him, someone who contributes so little and takes up so much space that it’s hysterical- which does them both a disservice, especially for My intents and purposes of saying wow both of these characters only get by running on alternating manic and depressive episodes. clearly aces entire life is centered around having addictive personality disorder and being in relationships that are toxic for him- in his lore, ace is encouraged to put himself in an extremely dangerous situation by a friend who is amused by watching him embarrass himself, and we get the idea that ace socializes with people entirely on a metric of ‘is this person impressed by how cool i seem when i win’ and ‘is this person just really into watching me lose because its funny and entertaining’, which he might not even be aware of.

clearly jane.... janes entire story is about her childhood trauma. Like i dont want to just have to retype her entire biography and also her tome lore but, in summation, her entire story is about the pressure of the life she had built as a reaction to her childhood trauma and how Even if she hadn’t gotten fognapped, she was likely heading towards a meltdown spiral from taking on too much work, getting too wrapped up in peoples perceptions of her, and becoming obsessed with gaining more influence, to the point of being willing to sell out completely in order to get even a Little bit closer to her audience Really Understanding how much she’s a normal person desperate for people to relate to her pain.

So Now Think About It. they're both among the more charismatic extroverts of the survivors, their livelihoods Both rely on being able to have a good conversation with people and build a really iron clad rapport in a really short amount of time, they both aspire to be sort of fancy and rich and get a lot of attention and clout And, for Both of them, this desire for that sort of life started early in childhood, dreaming about escaping poverty and preconceived notions of who they were. they both have multiple bits of flavortext in game about being naturally optimistic and seeking to share that hopeful attitude with their friends, so i also think jane's method of interacting with people is something that would, like ace's method of interacting with people, not always land.

‘but sunday, she’s an insanely famous self help talk show host!! how could she be Bad at socializing with normal, average, not-famous peons???’ would You want an insanely famous self help talk show host grabbing you by the shoulders just to be like 'dont worry, It gets better :^)' while your leg was caught in a bear trap and you were having your fingers sliced off and your heart ripped out?? and some dudes taking pictures of it?? probably not. People who would be into that are likely in the minority. but you know who Is in that minority???? Ace.

imagine if after Weeks/Months/Years?? of terrifying trials where everyone is getting ripped apart and fangoriously devoured or w/e, jane is Still trying to be helpful in the only way she knows how to her new friends, but they’re all Less than receptive to it. bc you think people like feng min and jake and david, all these tired ass antisocial introverts, want to keep hearing ‘dont worry we can do this’ over and over and over again, every single time this happens??? probably not. at some point they would probably be like ‘wow, jane, that’s great, but im actually? Tired of dying over and over again, and what you’re saying is Not helpful right now’. even her fellow celebrities, like kate and yun-jin and felix, or even just other more sociable and positive types, like meg and claudette and adam, might get really tired of hearing stuff like that as they get shredded up for the 39480459th time.

but it’s the thing that occurs most naturally to jane to do for people when they’re upset. she’s spent Years putting all of her time and money and self worth in being able to do this and watching it make a meaningful impact on people!!! And she’s spent years being validated in her sense of self relying on being that type of parasocial icon for people!!! so how is she going to make it in the fog without getting her heart broken and sent to the void where hopeless survivors go if she cant do the one thing she’s best at??

but then maybe it finally comes down to just her and ace as the last two survivors one night, after getting progressively lonelier and lonelier for what feels like forever, realizing that her Love Language is somewhat inert here, and when she works up the nerve to pull the ‘hey, it’s gonna be fine, we can get out of here’ card on Him??

it finally Works. he smiles back at her and says ‘yeah, youre right!!’ because he is Also a tireless optimist who doesnt believe in bad luck and sees a silver lining to every situation. he’s the guy who is perpetually smiling in order to make sure there’s always at least One person who hasn’t given up hope yet, and knows the value in holding out just long enough to be absolutely sure there’s no possible way to turn things around. he will never pass up the opportunity to look at a bad situation that way- he’s a gambler, the idea of a potential payout for taking that slim of a chance is one of the only things in life he cares about. AND SHE CAN WORK WITH THAT

so the most hilarious thing in the world to me would be if one of the first few times they ever actually speak to each other by the campfire after a trial, everyone is sort of looking around like ohhh god this is gonna be weird, he’s such a little weirdo and she’s so poised and normal

but it Actually isnt weird. for better or for worse, ace is good enough at reading people- and knows well enough just how much power jane has- AND DOESNT WANT TO GET THE SHIT BEAT OUT OF HIM BY A FAMOUS GIRL AGAIN- that he manages to be not a complete loser around her, mostly. she Also has to tap into her ‘talking to normal people’ skills in order to communicate with him initially as well, but even thats just something that would sort of sweeten the deal for her. i’m not under the impression he’d know a whole ton about her before encountering her in the entitys realm, so there’s not even as much pressure in interacting with him as there is with someone who i can easily see being a jane romero show stan before the events of the game, like yun-jin or meg, who she loves and would be friends with, but also still feels a bit obligated to be really put together around, for her images sake. so for her, there’s a bit of relief in making friends with such a comparatively average person, and for him, it’s cool that she even wants to talk to him, and a bit humbling that he can no longer claim to have the most bravado and largest presence out of anyone in the fog.

this isnt to say that they dont have their differences- obviously, she’s a hard worker who wants to come off as entirely self reliant and tireless, and he’s a self professed mooch who wants to just manipulate his way into success without actually applying himself unless it’s easy and fun and makes him look very sexy and cool- but i don’t think thats something that would completely kill their chances of getting along and having a successful relationship. they are adults. they can work it out

in fact its probably for the best that jane has such a well developed sense of self worth, so that when ace fucks up and says something tactless because he’s being a little clown creature, she can swiftly, easily disarm him into taking it back and informing him that he can’t say shit like that, rather than get her feelings hurt or just assume there was nothing to be done about it, like i think a lot of other survivors would do *cough felix cough*. He needs someone who can nip his antics in the bud instead of enabling him. and where anyone else doing that might kind of bug him, in this fantasy universe i have created where i get to dictate how all fictional characters act, it makes sense to me that he would defer to her judgement.

[this is a good a time as any to say I dont fuck with 'ace is unironically sexist' headcanons or whatever, i want him to have moved Past whatever the hell was going on in his tome, as that was Meant to be a painful experience in his past that he’s still hung up over as being one of the worst times of his life, NOT an accurate snapshot of who he Currently is in the game!!! so i dont mean he’s saying and doing Genuinely Problematic things to her or anyone else on a regular basis... he can just be kind of weird and careless]

i like imagining that since she has the status and wealth and influence that he could only Dream of having, its a bit of a ‘whatever she says goes’ situation when she suggests slight changes to his behaviour, within reason. On this note, from the Other side of the fence, jane could eventually have an issue with trying to tailor his personality Too much to her liking- her bio literally says she ‘needed more; she wanted others to follow in her footsteps’, so its easy to imagine there might need to be not just boundaries around reining in his behavior, but boundaries around her tendencies to want to control his behavior in the first place. even their flaws are compatible!!!!!! its nice for me to imagine that there would be plenty of scenarios where jane is the one getting spun out mentally and ace has to be the one to ground her, since at the end of the day, she’s just a normal person caught up in the relentless perfectionism of showbusiness. that their relationship isnt just ‘selfless perfect hot girl fixes stupid washed up scrimblo mans life’, because they Both have valuable things to tell each other and perspectives the other sorely needed. and because honestly??? jane is less content in her life than ace is in his!!! again, on a surface level, it’s easy to see them and think he’s the problem and she’s the problem solver, but its way more complicated than that.

a lot of how i think about them takes place in a post-fog environment- if we’re meant to believe that the survivors in the game will get out eventually, that means we’re invited to consider how they would make it back in the real world. and maybe jane would take this time to say. ‘Well, i can’t really afford mentally to be everyone’s best friend on the tv with a million clothing lines and makeup products any more, now that everyone saw my funeral and all. maybe i should set my sights a little lower and try to just take it one day at a time’. and maybe ace would take this time to say. ‘well that whole experience just taught me a whole lot about what it’s like to care about other people for once. and the idea of being in a casino or bar right now is extremely overwhelming and bad. but What Else am i supposed to do???’ and that’s when they can move in together and she can see what its like to try Less hard and he can see what its like to Try for anything at all even a little bit. it is extremely endearing to me to imagine, like, jane at home painting or writing, and maybe ace has his 2nd or 3rd ever little part time job for underachievers, like being a bartender or waiter, and when he gets home shes there to be like ‘wow you did it im so glad you finally learned to be a relatively productive member of society, i know its your least favorite thing ever but it means a lot to me that you arent fully reliant on all my money also i dont care if you still do gamble shit every once in a while because clearly thats just What Brings You Joy so have fun doing that on your days off still’.

OR!!! flip it turnways: she Does go back to being a tv personality, or writer, maybe talking about what it is she just went through, and needs to come home after the strain of being on tv and dealing with media industry people all day [which was already extremely bad for her, her bio describes her regularly getting migraines after filming] to someone who actually understands the fog and believes her and was there, and spent his day making sure the bed is made and the floor is vacuumed and dinner is ready for her. and you know who can do that??? be a little stay at home himbo wearing expensive pajamas and embroidered slippers, loading the dishwasher while blasting jazz for slutty old men on an expensive sound system in a luxury new york penthouse??? Ace. Again. that’s always what the answer will be here

so we all agree that it’s not epic or poggers to depict utterly useless men riding on successful womens coattails. But. if she makes more money than she knows what to do with, and he actually makes himself useful, Why Not be the sugar mommy rich gf to this dude who has agreed to keep your house running and be your peppy little old man cheerleader in exchange for getting fancy clothes and also lots of hugs and kisses. and also you spent an indeterminate amount of time being tortured to death infinitely in a hell dimension.

I think that’s fine!!!!!!! theres literally no end to the situations in which they can, despite being a high strung girlboss and a manic pixie malewife, get along, and see and value each other for who they are, and how they decide to cope, and what they need, in order to not get utterly lost in the sauce of the weird fucked up mentally and spiritually draining lifestyles they both live. in my honest opinion.

AND THATS WITHOUT EVEN BRINGING UP HOW I THINK THEY’RE BOTH BISEXUAL AND TRANS

#jane romero #ace visconti #janeace

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sugarmint-farm · 4 years

Text

Friends

You sprint desperately towards the mine ladder, chased relentlessly by a shadow demon that reaches towards you, screeching with fury, it’s hollow eyes glowing with malevolence. Panic surges through your chest as your vision fades in and out as you climb. You begin to sob with relief as the cool fall wind hits your face, stumbling out of the mine entrance, collapsing against the dirt that clots your wounds, the midday sun blinding you after hours upon hours in the mines. You lay there, feeling like you’re going to fall apart, sobbing with relief because for a moment there you legitimately thought you might die.

You had thought you were safe, you had cleared out that level that night before you had set up your tent. You thought you were okay, but when you were woken up by a demonic screech and the rending of your tent and claws in your side, you knew you weren’t. You honestly weren’t sure how you made it out, with your side bleeding profusely and claws having raked across your back and legs and sides, but you did and you were so grateful. You didn’t know how you would get home, but you made it out of the mines. Your vision faded to black as you dimly heard Demetrius’ horrified shout of your name, and you passed out to the feeling of hands on your shoulders.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up abruptly, hyperventilating as your hand went to your sword and found it absent. Cool hands wrapped around your wrist, and you flinched back.

“Hey, (Y/N). It’s alright.” Sebastian’s low voice came from near your ear, and you settled down from the blind panic at recognizing the pitch, heart slowing. “You’re safe.” He murmured, squeezing your shoulder. You nodded, reaching around for your bag. He pressed the strap into your hand, and you dug through it quickly to find the elixir Rasmodious had given you, wincing at the tug on your side. You drank it quickly, sighing in relief as your body healed up, wounds closing and pushing out irritants, aches and pains disappearing, headache fading away.

You reached up, undoing the bandage you felt around your head that blocked your sight, and you paled at seeing Sebastian’s shocked face.

“Ah... shit.”

“What the fuck was that?”

You laughed nervously. “I... heal fast?”

He laughed incredulously. “You nearly required an emergency blood infusion, that was not healing fast.”

You sighed. “I- It’s nothing. It’s fine. I’ll just be drained for a couple days, and then I’ll be right as rain.”

“Oh sweet Yoba, you’ve done this BEFORE?”

You wince, realizing what you just revealed. “Um… no?”

He laughs hysterically, frantically reaching for a cigarette and lighting up, taking a deep drag, exhaling as the tension releases. “Alright, alright, alright. God, I just didn’t want Sam to be sad, why did I let them put you down here…” He muttered, before inhaling and looking you in the eyes. “Alright. We’re going to sneak you out of here, and then you’re going to explain just what the fuck you did and what is down in those mines because I’m starting to think that was a real sword with real blood and shit on it, not just some random prop you carry with you.”

You grimace. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” His eyes are alight in a way you have never seen, and even though you know it’s incredibly bad timing, warmth flares in your chest at how alive he looks. You groan, resigned.

“Alright, fine.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

At the farm, smoke from another cigarette wreaths his frame as he paces back and forth. “So, you’re telling me, there’s ACTUAL MONSTERS down in those mines, magic is REAL, that weird old man who shows up in town once a year is an ACTUAL WIZARD, and you REGULARLY RISK YOUR LIFE FOR ROCKS?”

“Yes?” You reply meekly, inwardly screaming at yourself for being so attracted to him as he glares at you and rants at his worldview being shifted so violently.

“Oh my god, the Spirit Eve animatronics are real, aren’t they.”

You perk up. “Oh yeah, I actually get to help catch them this year!”

He drops his cigarette. “You what.”

You shrink back into yourself. “Not helping?”

He tugs at his hair. “NO!”

“Does it help that the monsters are really only in the mines?”

“You just implied they’re other places.”

“Ah, shit.” You slump over, and he sits down suddenly and begins to laugh so hard tears come to his eyes. You watch in a combination of fear and awe.

“Uh… Sebastian? You good?”

“Am- am I-“ He gasps for air. “You risk your life for entertainment and rocks and you look like a Yoba-damned kicked puppy at me pointing out how bullshit that is!”

You huff. “It isn’t bullshit!”

He grows serious, leaning forward to grab your shoulders, and your skin burns under his hands. “You are insufferable, and I wish you had never moved here. Now, you are going to check in with me every time you go down the mines, and every hour or so, so that I know you aren’t dead. Sam cares about you because he’s dumb like that, and I’m not making him bury your body. Get it?”

Your face warms at how close he’s gotten, close enough that you can almost taste the tobacco on his breath. “G-got it.”

“Good.” He leans back, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to the ceiling.

“Uh… are we friends now?” You venture.

He laughs dryly. “Sure.”

#stardew sebastian #sdv sebastian #sdv #stardew valley #writing #fanfic #sebastian x you #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

---

Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

---

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

The Student Council President Reads Shoujo Manga?!

Synopsis: You discover that the student council president, who claims to hate romance, reads shoujo manga. Slight influence from Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War.

Warning: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: fem student council vice president!reader x student council president!Hyunjin

After forgetting your textbook in the classroom, you expect to be the last person to arrive to the student council room, but it appears that you’re actually the second.

“Vice President, you left your manga here last night,” Secretary Kim greets. He glances at you momentarily before returning to his paperwork.

You shut the door behind you. “My manga? I don’t remember— Oh.”

Sitting on the mahogany desk is a tote bag that you recognize is the president’s. You loaned President Hwang the first five volumes of The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider two weeks ago. When you peer inside the bag, you find that he forgot to take off his manga protectors. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to take such a precaution since you trust him, but he always does so anyway. Even your old battered copies are wrapped in plastic.

You take the topmost one and hold it to the light streaming through the window. Not even the outline of the title can be seen. You voiced your confusion at his choice of using opaque protectors before; how would he be able to differentiate between different volumes or different mangas? His answer made you laugh: it was how he got away with reading during class. The image of the student council president doing such an illicit thing seemed ridiculous, and he pushed his hair back in embarrassment as he recounted the time the teacher almost caught him. Then you stopped laughing and wondered what the symptoms of a heart attack were. Your rib cage felt like it was going to smash open.

Now as you peel off the protector, the same feeling returns. The corner of Dragon Rider is blue and purple, not dark red. Did he spill something? No, none of the pages are wrinkled with water damage, and he would never be so careless so what exactly—

“Oh my goodness!”

Secretary Kim, pen twirling in his hand, looks at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” you squeak out, hiding out the manga behind your back. “I just… I just… it’s nothing! Everything is okay!”

“Alright then.”

While he goes back to his papers, you hurriedly turn around and check the book. It’s the same as it was a few seconds ago. Instead of a fearsome dragon and its hardworking rider on the cover, there is a teenage girl flanked by two boys with wolf ears. The title reads Tsukiko of the Wolves. You flip through, discovering with both amusement and disbelief that it’s a shoujo manga. There is nothing wrong with reading shoujo — you’ve read a fair share yourself when you were younger — but President Hwang is the least likely person you would expect to have a secret love for them. You regularly loan him your shounens to read, and he eagerly discusses each volume with you. He frequently complains about the romance, saying he’s reading it for the adventure, not for the love triangles.

This has to be a mistake. He has a younger sister who you’ve seen at the bookstore occasionally. It’s possible that they share a bookshelf and that he accidentally grabbed hers on accident. You put the protector back on, set it aside, and reach for the next book on the stack.

You have no real idea if it’s another shoujo or not, but NecRomancer sounds like one. The summary on the back describes a girl panicking about her newfound powers of resurrection and the attractive man she just brought back to life. You open to the middle of the manga and let out a squeak when you see the naked corpse on the page. It’s just another accident, it has to be. President Hwang is close with his sister, so it’s only natural that his manga would be close to hers. You try the next book in the stack, hoping that it’s one of yours.

The corner reveals a dark red cover, and you hold your breath, keeping an eye on Secretary Kim. He is still preoccupied with his work, muttering sentences and scribbling things down. You fully peel back the protector, and Why Do I Not Remember You? is written across the cover in glitter. Could this be his sister’s bag? No, she doesn’t use protectors.

You mindlessly thumb through the pages, seeing but not really seeing the crying woman being comforted by a stranger. Then at the flashbacks of broken beer bottles and a ring. The chances of this being a mistake are lessening. Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Does this mean that…

The student council president reads shoujo manga?

You quickly replace the protector. Your heart pounds, and possibilities swim in front of you. At the very best, he will be mortified if he knows that you found out. At the very worst, the entire school will find out. President Hwang’s reputation will be tainted, and with the upcoming reelections, his reputation is of the utmost importance. If he’s not president, you might still be vice president, but what’s the point then? It’ll be no fun without him.

No one can find out about this.

Suddenly the double doors to the student council room burst open, and you drop Why Do I Not Remember You? onto the desk. President Hwang slouches in the doorframe, resting his hands on the handles, completely out of breath. A Blueprint Books bag hangs in his grasp. That must be the one containing your manga.

He looks up from the floor, and you realize you are directly in his line of sight. Your hands fly to the ribbon around your neck, and you begin to untie and retie it.

“President, are you alright?” you distantly hear Secretary Kim ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m alright.” President Hwang’s voice comes out strained as he notices you standing behind his desk, three books out in the open. “Vice President, I see you discovered the manga as expected.”

“I was just counting to make sure I got all five back,” you reply with a fake smile. He can’t know that you know because he will never speak to you again out of embarrassment. “You left the protectors on, by the way.”

He walks toward you. You are the perfect picture of innocence. He will not know. “Did you… check them?”

“No, I was in the middle of counting them. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but you can hear the relief. “I left the wrong bag for you last night. Working late must be getting to me, haha. Here you go. The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider.”

You peek inside, and sure enough, the volumes are there with no opaque protector to obscure the title on the spine. You clutch the bag in front of you like you can use it to hide the truth you have just uncovered. President Hwang stacks his shoujo manga back into his bag and tucks it underneath the desk. His face has gone pink, and he fans himself with the latest edition of the school newspaper.

“What did you think of it?” you ask to distract him. “Isn’t the artwork amazing?”

Mission successful. President Hwang’s eyes go glassy as he recalls the story in his head, and he stops his fanning. “It is. And the worldbuilding too! The academy is so different from the usual school settings, and the dragon breeds are so cool. Also, Hirajima is such a tsundere. He’s going to end up falling in love with Kimi, isn’t he? Ugh.”

“I won’t spoil it for you,” you cryptically reply. The president is holding tightly onto his facade, which you need him to do. “I’ll lend you the next five volumes tomorrow. Just wait until you get to the tournament arc. You’re going to love it.”

He groans and leans back into his chair. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No! Tournament arc is always the best arc! That’s why Feast of the Gods is so popular. Every arc is pretty much a tournament arc.”

President Hwang lights up even more at the mention of the fantasy cooking-themed manga. He borrowed it from you last month and loved it so much that he bought matching keychains for the entire council. “Secretary Kim is the bird's milk, Treasurer Lee is the silkworm flour, you’re the delphinium rose syrup, and I’m the volcanic pepper,” he explained.

“Why are you the pepper?” Treasurer Lee complained. “You can’t even handle spice.”

“Because I’m hot.”

While both the secretary and treasurer cackled and while the president grew increasingly embarrassed by his own claims, you did your best to focus on your new keychain and not him. He looked too attractive loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. He looked like a manga character come to life.

President Hwang’s comment snaps you out of your daydream. “The ending is good! I can’t believe that Ryuzaki actually—”

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” interrupts Secretary Kim’s flat voice. He peers at the two of you over his glasses and flicks his eyes towards the suggestion box he must have brought in earlier. “Especially with reelections coming up soon.”

“We’ll talk later,” President Hwang whispers to you. “I want to discuss my theory about Kimi and Bando with you.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go through the suggestions now before Secretary Kim gets mad.”

You walk over to the door and grab the suggestion box. It’s heavier than expected, and you hold it flush against your chest to keep it from slipping out of your grasp. President Hwang notices your struggling and meets you halfway. He nearly makes you drop it as his fingers brush yours while he takes it from you.

“Thanks,” you stammer out. Your hands are empty, so you toy with your ribbon again as you follow him back to the desk.

“No problem,” he says. He lifts open the lid and takes out the first paper on top. “Shin Ryujin is asking for more funding for the Tennis Club again. Speaking of tennis, have you seen the animations for Bleeding Heart? It’s so good.”

Though Bleeding Heart starts off like a shoujo, it devolves into a mystery. If it weren’t for the knowledge you have now, you would have teased President Hwang for watching it. Instead, you enthusiastically nod. “They play croquet, not tennis, but yes! They’re so smooth!”

“President, Vice President.”

You and President Hwang exchange sheepish smiles. He softly sighs and scans through the paper, playing with a lock of hair. You imagine him doing the same as he reads. Why is the image of him secretly reading shoujo manga so charming? You shouldn’t find it so when he has this much at stake. He needs to be reelected.

“What do you think?” he asks, pointing at a proposal that you should have been reading with him, interrupting your thoughts. He edges closer to you, and breathing is suddenly difficult. He smells like laundry detergent. “Are new uniforms justifiable?”

“Yes, I think so,” you choke out. “Excuse me for a minute.”

You practically run out of the student council room, stopping only when you reach a small alcove in the hall. It’s dim and quiet, and you can hear your heart trying to break out. You press your hand over it, trying to push it back inside. Heart attacks don’t feel like this, or so says the medical website you consulted. Your heart thunders against your wrist, and its beat perfectly matches your pulse.

Steady.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It eventually slows, and you return back to the room with more composure than you had earlier. Treasurer Lee has finally shown up, and you decide to help him with calculations instead of reviewing proposals with President Hwang. It’s better this way.

During the weekend, you head to Blueprint Books and wander down the aisles, trying to find the manga President Hwang reads. You know what he likes for shounens, so what is it for shoujos? You mindlessly swing your tote bag back and forth as you scan the shelves. He Doesn’t Know My Secret, Steampunked!, Squirrel Princess. It’s been some time since you visited this section of the store. As you look to the next shelf, you notice a familiar keychain hanging from someone’s pocket. When you do a double-take, to your surprise and horror, President Hwang is standing at the end of the aisle. He looks different when out of uniform. Good different.

Maybe you made a noise of some sort because before you can turn around and leave, he glances up from the book he holds. His eyes meet yours.

Disbelief. Confusion. Panic.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he shakily asks as he slides the manga back into place. He’s mostly calm, that’s good. If he can lie to you about it, surely the entire school will be a simple feat. “Is there a new release?”

You shake your head. “Just browsing. Are you buying something for your sister? I know you don’t like romance that much.”

The relief in his voice is palpable when he says, “Yeah. Do you have any recommendations?”

“What does she like?”

“What do you like? You read a lot of manga.”

The question makes you pause, and you recount all the conversations you’ve overheard during lunch. Shounens are more of your thing now, but you're not above shoujos. “I’ve heard good things about Best Friend Boyfriend and I Wouldn’t Change A Thing.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not yet, but I always hear people talking about them.” You shift from foot to foot. A change of subject is much needed. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s going well, I think. Yeji and her friends are asking everyone in their year to vote for me, so that’s cool. The Japanese Culture Club is apparently doing the same,” he answers. He thumbs his pepper keychain, and you instinctively reach for your complementing one. The tiny syrup bottle is cool on your skin. “What about you? You’re still going to be my vice president, right?”

‘My’ makes you warm. “Of course! Just worry about yourself. Han Jisung really wants your spot.”

“I’m not letting that happen. Trust me, on Friday, the principal’s going to announce me as president again. And you’re going to be vice president. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee are going to be there as well. We’re going to be the student council until graduation.”

He says it with so much determination, you can’t help but laugh. “I really hope so. Hey, I’ll bring you the next five volumes of Dragon Rider on Monday. Just give me six through ten whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks. Do you want to borrow one of—”

“There you are!” President Hwang’s younger sister bounds into the aisle with a shopping basket filled with stationery. She furrows her eyebrows when she notices exactly which aisle her brother is in. “Don’t you have enough al—”

“I’m going to be late for dinner!” you interject. You step backwards, nearly bumping into the cardboard cutout of a manga character. “See you in class, President. Have a nice day. Bye.”

As you speed walk in the opposite direction, you hear his sister quietly ask him, “Wait, was that the vice president?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

You don’t hear if President Hwang replies anything because once you’ve turned the corner, you sprint out of the bookstore. It’s not until you’re home that you realize that you never found out what kind of shoujos he enjoys.

The days leading up to Friday are fraught with worry. Han Jisung is campaigning hard for the position this year. His small band of dedicated followers pass out flyers at the school gate every morning and trade lollipops for votes. Despite that, the president is unbothered.

“Did you watch the new episode of 00 Daniel?” he asks you on Wednesday.

You place your shoes inside your locker and shut the door. “Today’s the last day of voting, and you’re concerned about that?”

“I think the mission’s going to go badly this time. It’s been like five missions since his last screw up,” he continues like you said nothing. “There’s no way the season is ending without setting up for the next one.”

“President.”

“He’s not going to win, I promise. Treasurer Lee took a survey a few days ago, and I’m in the lead. The Mathematics Club’s survey confirmed the same thing.”

You start heading to your class with a resigned sigh, and President Hwang follows you even though he’s in a different room. He tugs on the sleeve of your blazer.

“You have nothing to worry about, Vice President,” he reassures. He lowers his head down to meet you at eye level. “It’s you and me until graduation, okay?”

You quickly nod and try not to burst into flames right on the spot. He’s too close yet not close enough.

“I think you’re right about 00 Daniel,” you stutter. “They’re taking too long to find the target too. I’ll see you after school then. Class is going to start soon.”

He retracts himself, a bit disappointed that you don’t want to speculate now. “Okay, we can talk later. See you.”

“See you.”

You two head to your respective classrooms. As you slide into your chair, you notice the boy next to you has a red candy wrapper on his desk. The girl in front of him has a purple one.

You really hope the Mathematics Club is right.

When Friday arrives, your stomach is in knots, and you feel ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. The traffic lights are slow today, making your usual stroll to school longer than usual. Students your age all the way down to elementary, pass you by, laughing and chatting with their friends. How can they be so relaxed when the results of the election come out this morning? You bet the paper announcement is already tacked to the bulletin board at the front of the school.

“Good morning,” comes a familiar voice.

“Good morning,” you reply back. President Hwang easily falls into step with you and holds out a tote bag to you. “Oh, you finished all of them?”

“Yeah. That last battle was crazy! I can’t believe it ended like that. And the epilogue! I knew it would happen! I feel so bad for Bando and… You okay? You look a little sick.”

“It’s nothing.” You take the bag from him and hold the books to your chest. You peek inside to make sure the protectors are off and to check that he gave you the right bag. No shoujo manga this time. “Are you nervous?”

He’s surprisingly apprehensive when he asks, “About what?”

“The election?”

“Oh. No, not really. Are you?”

“A little bit,” you lie as the two of you walk through the gate. The bulletin board is surrounded by a crowd, and you’re ready to march through to see what the paper says. Please let President Hwang be on there. “Let’s go.”

But the president is soon stopped by Han Jisung and his followers. Han Jisung holds his hand out, and you hold your breath as he opens his mouth.

“Congratulations on winning, President,” he says with a good-natured smile. He shifts his gaze to you. “And you as well, Vice President.”

You let out an audible sigh and quickly cover it with a cough when everyone looks at you. “Thank you.”

President Hwang shoots you a knowing grin, making you blush, before exchanging pleasantries with his defeated opponent. In the meantime, you push through the crowd to double-check the results. There it is in black ink: Hwang Hyunjin as President. Relief floods through your body, and you happily accept the other students’ congratulations and swap theories about the upcoming season of 00 Daniel with your fellow manga and anime fans.

“Told you,” President Hwang later says after he manages to get away from Han Jisung. He shuts your locker door with one finger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, are you going home now?” President Hwang asks. With no changes in the student council, everything is business as usual, including Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee leaving as soon as they can on Fridays.

“Yeah. Are you staying late again?”

“Not today. Want to walk home together?”

“S-sure.”

While he reorganizes the papers on his desk, you fiddle with the strap of the tote bag. It’s not the first time you’ve walked home with the president, but it sends you into a panic every time. The golden sun and orange sky makes everyone look beautiful but him especially so. It’s difficult not to be tongue tied around him when he looks exactly like the lead of a shoujo manga.

Manga. The thing that accelerated your feelings for him in the first place. His good looks and his sweet talking charm were enough for you to notice him, so learning he shared the same hobby as you? Discovering that he adored coming up with theories?

You were smitten.

“You ready?” he interrupts.

“Yeah.”

The two of you make it to the front entrance before he stops and turns to you. “Actually, before we go, can I show you something first? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure. What is it?” You follow him through the school, taking note that he seems to be headed to the courtyard.

“Have you read Limitless?”

As you step over a pile of fallen cherry blossoms, you rack your brain. You read it a long time ago, mostly because it was on every recommendation list online. “The shoujo about the math tutors? It’s been some time, but yes. What about it?”

President Hwang stops in the middle of the courtyard and faces you again. The sun is behind him, the rays of light forming a crown on his head. “Well, there’s a scene near the end that I thought you might like.”

The end of Limitless…

… features a confession scene in the school courtyard.

He gently takes your hands. “Do you remember the first day we were elected? I was the first person in the room, and I was so nervous to meet you because I didn’t know that much about you. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee said you were really kind, but I was still nervous. Then you ran into the room with a bunch of manga and almost tripped over the rug. You laughed it off and held out a book for me to shake since your hands were full.”

“It was the first volume of Feast of the Gods,” you whisper. That day is burned in your mind. “Lee Chaeryeong just finished the first ten volumes and gave them back to me.”

“And then I asked you if I could borrow them because I wanted to read them but Blueprint was out of stock. You said yes immediately, and that’s when I knew that you and I would be a great team. When you wanted to listen to me talk about the chapters I read, that’s when I knew I liked you. And when you continued to offer me other series to borrow, that’s when I knew I had to tell you. So,” he breathes, “here it is. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

“I… I like you too.”

He breaks out into a grin and wraps you in a hug. He still smells like laundry detergent, and you bury your nose in the collar of his shirt.

“What do we do now?” he softly laughs as he pulls away. “The shoujo mangas usually stop here and cut to a new scene.”

The words fly out of your mouth without thinking. “So is that why you’ve been reading shoujos? For the confession?”

His smile falters but recovers soon after. “Yeji gave it away last weekend, huh? Ah, I was hoping you hadn’t heard her.”

“Actually… I found out when you gave me back Dragon Rider the first time,” you admit. You twirl the ends of the ribbon around your neck. “I took off the protectors and saw some of them. But there’s nothing wrong with liking shoujo! I was just surprised since you always say you hate romance.”

“I mean, I did. I started reading them for confession tips, but then it turns out some of them are really good. Like Limitless? And then I started reading my sister’s, and I kind of like them now. Is that weird?”

“No. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“Really? You’re not weirded out by that?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t care what you read as long as you’ll talk to me about it after.”

“Well, I finished Winter Fireworks recently. Have you read it before?” When you shake your head, he takes a step closer and leans down. “It ends like this.”

As it turns out, the story ends with a kiss.

~ ad.gray

None of the mangas/animes mentioned actually exist. They’re just riffs of other fics we’ve written. Was this just a giant ad for them? Yeah, kind of lol. In order of appearance:

The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider ➞ Normal (Hyunjin)

Tsukiko of the Wolves ➞ 42nd Moon (Hyunjin)

NecRomancer ➞ Magic Words (Hyunjin)

Why Do I Not Remember You? ➞ Eternally Yours (Hyunjin)

Feast of the Gods ➞ God’s Menu (Felix)

Bleeding Heart ➞ King of Hearts (Bang Chan)

He Doesn’t Know My Secret ➞ Harmony, Melody (Seungmin)

Steampunked! ➞ Matters of the Head and Heart (Felix)

Squirrel Princess ➞ Squirrel and Wife (Han)

Best Friend Boyfriend ➞ Ruin My Life (Lee Know)

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing ➞ Even if Things Were Different (Han)

00 Daniel ➞ Apologies in Advance (Lee Know)

Limitless ➞ love you to limx (Han)

Winter Fireworks ➞ Ringing in the New Year (Bang Chan)

bonus after credits scene

It’s only when the two of you are crossing the bridge do you realize what he has done. “You just spoiled the ending for me!”

“Sorry, I forgot.” After a few seconds, he asks, “Can I give you more spoilers?”

You reach for the front of his blazer. “Yes.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #stray kids au #skz au #20210701

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

Text

Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

#my fic #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Night Changes [Eight]

Summary: 34 ABY.

Warnings: Angst, smut (a large amount of smut!), fluff but it’s sad, I’m sorry this one hurts. WC—+12K

A/N: Wow I can’t wait to get your feedback on this. BUCKLE UP!

34 ABY - Location Unknown - Aboard Star Destroyer ‘Finalizer’

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the resistance on board,” A cold, modulated voice woke Poe from his troubled slumber—his pathetic attempt at rest, considering he was strapped upright, his hands and legs restrained from moving at all.

The First Order goons had been on him for hours before finally giving up, realizing with each slice into his skin or blow into his side that he only grinned wider. He wasn’t going to give up anything, even if they pulled his eyes from his head, and they seemed to understand that and left him alone, he wasn’t sure for how long now. He’d assumed they’d left him to die.

He tilted his head up, his neck protesting at the movement before his eyes landed on the figure across the dark room. The man was tall, covered from head to toe in black, his face covered by a dark helmet. The modulated, amused-sounding voice spoke again when Poe made no reply, “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” He admitted, glaring even though he was curious as to who this new arrival was. He didn’t seem bothered by Poe’s sarcasm.

“I’m impressed,” The First Order man stepped closer to him as he spoke, “No one has been about to get out of you what you did with the map.”

Poe looked where he guessed the man’s eyes would be, “You might want to rethink your technique.” He challenged, his body tensing in preparation for whatever violence it was about to endure.

Only, the man reached up a gloved hand, palm open towards him. For a beat Poe was confused.

For a beat, nothing.

And then the oddest sensation, like a hand dipping beneath his skull and squeezing his brain, and he almost gasped. He let out a small breath, his eyes dropping from the masked man because—he needed to focus, to push this pain away, to prevent...what was he doing to him?

The pain and pressure doubled and Poe slammed his head back into the headrest, unable to hold in his pained groan, his entire body protesting at the invasion. He tried to push at it, but there was nothing he could find to push against, it was invisible, it was nothing.

The man tilted his head, “Where is it?”

Ah, he was trying to get to the map. In Poe’s brain, using a-a something that he’d only ever heard tales about, never seen, thought was long gone. He hadn’t been prepared for this sort of attack, this form of torture that seemed to make his brain want to cooperate, just for relief.

He thought of you, then, and what you said any time there was a close call, an enemy with the upper hand. It spilled out of his lips, automatically, “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”

The pressure increased again and fuck, fuck if it didn’t hurt worse than any other pain in his life, the pain of losing Charlie, of losing you, the pain of stab wounds or blasters to the leg. This hurt so much worse and he wanted it to stop but he couldn’t let it—as long as he was in pain, the information was safe. He’d go down burning, he had to!

“Where is it?” The man sounded frustrated, his hand moving closer to Poe as that pressure continued to build and build and he had to swallow it, let it happen, let the pain exist.

He tried something, then, in desperation. Poe let his brain flood with the memories he had of you, each one like a movie, and thrust them toward his interrogator, let him see the most vivid thoughts he had instead of the location of the map.

Poe stared down at you, his eyes threatening to blur with the tears he was shedding, and he had to keep blinking to clear his vision. You looked beautiful, standing before him in a simple lace dress, your lower lip trembling as you gave your vows.

“...and that was how we met, on the day of your mother’s funeral—the woman whose ring I’ll wear now, honouring her. Honoring you. I’ve loved you my whole life, Poe Dameron...”

“Pretty,” The man murmured, and Poe wasn’t sure if it was working or not so he kept thinking of the day he married you, pushing the memories at the man before him.

You were wiping at your tears as he spoke, holding your hands tightly in his own and working hard to keep himself from sobbing through his vows.

“...you and I were never honest with each other like we should have been. We built up our whole lives around each other, and then we lost Charlie,” He paused there, leaving a moment of space for your brother. “And we crumbled, each in our own way because we didn’t have a solid foundation. The truth is, the day Charlie died there were only two ways that could have gone, and we both know that the version where you died, where he didn’t save you, was never really an option. And I was-was angry at him for doing it but angrier at myself for how happy I was that I didn’t lose you. And now we’ve come back to each other and we have that foundation and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

He pushed the memories from his mind. As if eager for the man to see the greatest moments of his life. Like a movie. Because he had to protect the map, he had to.

And he didn’t need to protect you any longer.

The last memory slipped through, he hadn’t meant to think of it. Tried not to, always-but he was weak and the pressure and pain were blinding him. It just appeared, and the man saw it, Poe knew he did when he saw his head tilt a little more as if interested in what he saw.

“Pity,” That cold, modulated voice didn’t sound like he thought it was a pity at all. “Well she certainly can’t have it, can she? Tell me where it is.”

The hand hovering in front of Poe’s face twisted and the pressure on his brain increased rapidly until he couldn’t bear it any longer and he let himself scream, and scream, and scream...

Right before he passed out, he thought first of BB8 hurrying away with the map on Jakku. And then Poe thought of you, his beautiful wife, and how fucking much he already missed you.

Life was now so surreal to Poe, in the best ways, that just the knowledge he could touch you whenever he wished made it difficult to stop himself from doing just that. A hand trailing down your back, a brush of his lips against your temple, his body pressed against yours, even reaching up to cup your cheek. And while you seemed to enjoy the attention, often shooting him little smiles that made his insides warm, he could see that currently, it was irritating you.

“Poe, we’re supposed to be blending in here and if you keep giving me those ‘I’ve seen you naked’ eyes it’s going to attract attention.” You carefully adjusted the scarf you wore, which served both to protect you from the suns of Tatooine, and keep anyone in Mos Espa from being able to identify you.

Poe wore one similar around his neck, his hair gelled back in a way he thought looked awful (and confirmed when he’d stepped out of the ship’s fresher earlier and you laughed, hard). Today’s mission was more personal, though it had been approved by General Organa. Jess Pava had located, purely by accident, the location of the Twi’lek man, Dario, who had tried to capture you and Poe back on Takodana months prior after giving over First Order intel. He was in hiding from both the Resistance and the First Order now.

Poe sighed dramatically, dropping his hands to his sides as you continued walking, his eyes sweeping the crowds of the busy city street, “I can’t help it. We’re still in the honeymoon phase.” He argued, and you giggled in response.

“We’ve been married five weeks, Poe, the honeymoon phase is the entire first year.”

Poe mulled this over, biting back his smile so as not to stand out to those passing by in the opposite direction. He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to marry him if he was honest. It all felt too good to be true, but if there was one thing he’d learned as a Rebel all these years it was to enjoy the good while he could—he wasn’t spending a lot of time ruminating. He was instead regularly replaying in his mind how quickly you’d said yes, the excitement and joy and adoration that had split your face into a wide grin as he kneeled before you the morning after your feelings for one another finally came out.

“Let’s get married, flyboy.” You’d said, and he’s not sure he would ever come down from the high those words provided.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind, after that. You had still needed a few days' rest to get your voice healed up, and Poe was only able to spend that day with you before being called back to duty. While he’d been gone on a mission, you had organized everything from the comfort of his room, first telling only your closest friends—Tahla, Temmin and Kare. Then you had located the base officiant to ask for her to wed you and Poe in a private ceremony upon Poe’s return.

It was amusing how everyone took the news. You’d described to Poe how Temmin and Kare had high-fived one another, while Tahla had merely laughed, nodding his head in an annoyingly knowing way.

When Poe had arrived back on base, he’d sought you out in his room to find you being examined by Tahla and a medical droid, the former happily declaring that your voice was as good as new. He had then congratulated you each on the happy news and assured you both that he could remain for the ceremony with a cheeky sort of grin.

Poe married you the very next morning. The ceremony was small, just you and Poe, your three friends and the officiant. BB8 had also been present, happily beeping the moment Poe began to cry-which was around the time when you’d surprised him by taking your father’s wedding band from his droid and presenting it for Poe. You told him that as much as you were meant to wear his mother’s wedding band, the same went for him wearing your fathers. You said Charlie would have wanted it to end up in his hand, regardless of who he married, anyway. Poe had replied that he was always going to marry you.

That had been, quite easily, the best day of his entire existence.

After the ceremony, Poe had whisked you off to a nearby beach, the flight a mere ten minutes, where you would enjoy a short three-day honeymoon together camping, surrounded by nothing but sand and water, sunshine during the day and the stars twinkling by night. Temmin had helped Poe to pack camping supplies and promised to keep BB8 safe as he and Kare went off with the droid on a mission alone.

He made love to you on that beach—sand got everywhere, of course, so he took you again in the water that you’d entered naked with the intent to clean up. And again in the tent after dinner. He woke in the middle of the first night and spent a good twenty minutes eating you out before you’d woken, your orgasm ripping through you moments later when you realized what he’d been doing. You’d returned the favour the next night, pulling Poe from a deep sleep by sucking his cock so expertly he saw stars, then drinking down everything he’d given you when he came while moaning sinfully.

“Alright,” You drew his attention from his thoughts—thankfully as he was starting to get hard thinking of the honeymoon. Stepping out of the way of foot traffic, you peered nonchalantly across the road at a grubby-looking cantina. “Jess said he’s in there about this time every day. We just have to wait for him to come out.”

“Uh-huh,” Poe stepped closer to you, an eyebrow quirked, “And not shoot him on sight, right Major?”

You bristled immediately, “I am not going to kill him. Here.” You jerked your chin up stubbornly and Poe chuckled, leaning down and capturing your kips against his softly.

When he pulled back, you threw him a mock glare, “You shouldn’t get me all worked up when you know we don’t have the ship to ourselves, Commander.” You made busywork of adjusting your scarf, eyes back on the cantina.

Poe grinned down at you, “We could knock Dario out-“

“Yeah? And what about our dear Captain? You think Snap would mind?”

He blinked, momentarily having forgotten Temmin was waiting on the ship for them, even though Poe had been the one to ask him along as backup.

“Shit,” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly.

He let you think he was annoyed at the lack of privacy, but the truth was Poe had asked Temmin along because he had become extraordinarily overprotective of you since the wedding. After the honeymoon, you’d rejoined him in the field and the first moment he saw you with your blaster at your hip, something inside of him had just...snapped.

He’d realized after your attack on Canto Bight that losing you wasn’t an option, that your life was worth more than winning the war to Poe. It had scared him, to think like that, and everything after that had happened in such quick succession that he’d pushed the thoughts back. But then that first mission together as a married couple had occurred and he realized how intense those protective, selfish thoughts were. And he was being selfish—because you were one of the best fighters, best pilots, the Resistance had. Which was why you’d been brought to D’Qar to join his team in the first place, of course. Limiting your fieldwork would have been as much as a disservice to the Rebels as it would have been to his marriage, so he didn’t even consider asking you to stop.

Well, he’d only considered it very briefly.

He knew what you would say, if he did ask, anyway. And truly, his belief in your capabilities hadn't diminished in the slightest; he simply couldn’t fathom the idea of you being hurt. Even here on Tatooine, he was keenly aware of all possible threats to you—to YOU, not to the Rebels, not himself. Hell, at that very moment he could see you were covered in a layer of sweat, courtesy of the over-hot planet, and the urge to whisk you somewhere cool and out of the sun was almost as powerful as his desire to complete this mission.

He was aware that his scales were not, in fact, balanced.

No, they’d tipped right over in your favour, though he kept you unaware of that knowledge, and every day now was a struggle when Black team was on a mission. The best he could think to do was bring back up, just in case, and always keep you close to him. If he had to jump in front of gunfire for you, he would in a heartbeat.

If he ever started to feel guilty over these feelings, he would think of your brother. Charlie would, no doubt, be thrilled that Poe and you had married, that Poe had officially made you his top priority.

D’Qar Five Weeks Ago

“I know I said you didn’t have to help,” Poe crawled towards you on the makeshift bed you’d put together inside the tent, his voice low, “But I’m glad you did, sweetheart. Got us to this part quicker.” He wiggled his brows at you and you giggled, your eyes following his movements hungrily as he climbed over your body.

“What if I tired myself out, flyboy?”

Poe smirked, pressing his body over yours, “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can take care of you, just relax for me.” He began to kiss a trail up your neck and along your jaw, lifting one hand to gently coax you to settle into the cushions. You allowed your warm body to go limp, signalling a trust in Poe he still had trouble feeling worthy of, and let out a small sigh of content.

He wasted no time in ridding you of your clothing, immediately devouring newly exposed skin with his mouth as he did. He was marvelling over how much his life had changed in the last week, how incandescently happy he was. When a whimper fell from your lips as he circled his tongue over one of your nipples, he drew back and saw your eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re such a tease.” You mumbled, reaching down to palm his erection over his khakis. Grinning widely, he leaned away and quickly stripped himself before bringing his body to settle over yours again, this time skin to skin. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh sweet girl,” He murmured into your ear as he reached between your bodies to run two fingers through your slick, “So wet for me already.” He withdrew his hand and gently rocked his hips forward, moving slowly as he sunk into you, a gasp falling from his lips at the sensation of your tight heat clenching around him. Perfect, you were utterly perfect.

Your back arched slightly as Poe filled you, angling to allow him to sink deeper, “Poe, Stars!” You whimpered, your hands sinking into his curls while he lazily worked his hips, drawing sweet little noises from your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d made love that day, yet the intense desire you felt for one another was clear, heavy in the air around you, drawing you back to each other as nothing else could.

Being with you like this felt too good to be true, the sort of euphoria that must come with a limit, and so he savoured every second, drawing each thrust out as long as he could as he peppered your pretty face with kisses. “I love you...wife.” He joked, and you giggled beneath him, your legs tightening at his waist.

“I love you too, husband.”

You pressed at his chest then, signalling your desire to flip over, and Poe clutched your hips as he rolled, keeping himself buried within you as he laid on his back. When you relaxed atop him, his cock sunk even deeper and he grunted at the sensation, “Fuck, baby, so tight for me.”

With a moan, you started to move, rolling your hips to keep him deep within you and chasing your own pleasure, hands braced on his chest to hold yourself steady. Watching as you rode him, your breasts jiggling temptingly and skin gleaming with sweat, was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He never wanted to leave this beach.

“That’s it, sweet thing, bounce on my cock,” He gritted out, lifting his arms and grabbing at your tits, “Be as loud as you need, baby, no one can hear us out here, fuck.” His head dropped back onto the pillows as a wave of pleasure seemed to roll through your body, the resulting tightening around his cock pulling loud grunts from him and threatening to make him cum.

You started a steady stream of moans then, your pace remaining consistent as you whimpered and cursed, the hands on his chest pressing hard enough that he could tell you were attempting to prevent him from taking over; you wanted to be in control. The realization made his cock twitch, and you seemed to sense his thoughts as you glanced down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze.

“Poe, I’m so close,” You sighed, and he let go of one of your hips to rub his thumb over your clit, circling just how he knew you liked it, how he’d learned over the past few days.

The resulting orgasm rocked your entire body before you seized up and he swore your pussy was gripping him almost too hard, and then he was coming too. It was different, in a good way—he wasn’t moving his hips at all, yet you were milking his cock as you came around him, your hips still moving back and forth, and the surprise of it made Poe come even harder, “Oh stars, sweetheart!” He grunted, his entire body twitching until you finally collapsed and he caught you, holding you close while you both panted heavily.

“Poe?” You whispered, your face nuzzled into his neck.

Poe’s arms tightened around you and he kissed your hair, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m starving. No more sex, please feed me.”

Laughing, Poe lifted you lightly, each of you groaning at the sensation as he slipped from you and your mixture of fluids spilled out onto his thigh.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s eat.”

It went without saying that you would enjoy one another for dessert.

You perked up suddenly, eyes still on the cantina, and Poe casually glanced over his shoulder. Spotting Dario ambling out of the door, he felt a lick of heat crawl up his spine; that asshole had pointed a blaster at you. He was going to turn you both over to the First Order, who would have tortured and killed you. Maybe Poe should have been more concerned that he would kill Dario, rather than arrest the motherfu-

“Let’s go.” You grabbed Poe’s arm and tugged, starting forward as Dario turned to walk up the road. Considering the Twi’lek was in hiding, he didn’t exactly hasten to return to the comfort and safety of his temporary home. It was easy to catch him up, and you tossed Poe a delighted little smile before surreptitiously unholstering your blaster and pressing into Dario’s back.

Dario made to turn, a small noise of surprise huffing out, but Poe threw an arm around his shoulder before he could see you and smiled. “Dario, dear friend, it’s good to see you.” He tightened his hold to an uncomfortable pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Dario grumbled, putting up no fight. His eyes widened when you used your free hand to search him for weapons and pulled out his old blaster, tucking it into your waistband.

“Fuck is right,” You hissed, pressing the blaster a little harder into his back, “You’re coming with us, Dario. The Resistance has questions for you.”

Poe smiled at you proudly as you each led Dario through the streets towards the waiting ship. He saw you biting back your smile—you were much better at acting appropriate in the field than he was, though he had to admire his strength; the urge to kill Dario on sight had almost made him see red.

But that would have made the mission a failure, as Dario could have information the Rebels could use, and getting him out of the reach of the First Order ensured that he could not give them information about the Resistance.

Still, Poe would ensure his capture was far from comfortable.

Poe’s hand had found its way to your lower back, where he pressed it gently as you walked along beside him from your post-mission check in with the General. “You didn’t need to punch Dario the second time, Flyboy.” You teased, the memory of Poe punching the traitor before pushing him into the base’s lock-up making your lips tug up at the corners.

He laughed, shrugging as you weaved through the busy hallways, both nodding polite greetings to those you passed. Everyone referred to you as Major Dameron, now that word had spread through the base these past six weeks that Poe Dameron and (y/n) Horn had been married. You knew for certain you’d never been happier in your life, and based on how Poe could barely keep his hands off of you, he was enjoying life just as much.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just tag along for your check-up?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at your husband with mild exasperation, “Poe, it’s an annual,” You reminded him, stopping in your tracks to step close to him and peer up at his handsome face, “Go work on your mission report and I’ll see you in the room later, alright?”

When he merely grinned at you mischievously, you giggled before sliding your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, something you noticed he did a lot, as though he were testing that he was still allowed to kiss you. He then cupped your jaw in his hands and met you again, this time in the sort of kiss that made your knees shake, his tongue tracing along your lips teasingly before he pulled back and pressed a more chaste peck to your forehead.

“See you later, sweetheart.” He murmured, his tone suggesting your evening would be a long continuation of that kiss. You felt very warm when you smiled up at Poe before spinning and walking down the hall to the med bay, fully aware his eyes were on your ass.

The med bay was fairly quiet when you arrived, the nurse at the main desk seemed to be peering off at nothing, lost in thought. You cleared your throat awkwardly and she started before a polite smile appeared and she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Sorry about that,” She said, and you waved your hand to show there was no need, “What can I help you with?”

“I have an annual, Major H-um, Major Dameron.”

The nurse smiled more broadly and winked at you before standing, “Come with me, dear.” She led you through to the back, past the emergency section and into the further depths where offices and operating rooms were located. She gestured for you to enter a doorway you had plenty of times before, where annual checkups and post-mission physicals were done. “The medical droid will start on your readings after you change into your gown and the Healer will be here shortly.”

You thanked the nurse before she left, then walked over to the bed and plucked the gown from where it was folded. You changed out of your clothing quickly before tugging it on, then hopped onto the bed to wait. When the droid came in moments later, you stuck out your arm and let it begin its work taking your blood pressure, a small sample of blood, examining your eyes and ears, everything all so routine you were as zoned out as the nurse had been when you arrived.

A younger female Healer walked in as the droid took your temperature, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Major. I’m Healer Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you, Healer Boyd,” You replied, watching as she looked down at the droids readings displayed now on her tablet. All was quiet for a few minutes until the droid was at the implant in your arm performing the routine scan. The droid beeped after the first scan, then scanned again and this caught your attention as you’d never needed multiple scans to get a reading on the birth control implant.

Healer Boyd glanced up from her tablet and walked over to the droid, “Let’s do that once more, please.” She directed, and the droid repeated the scan once more, then beeped indignantly. Her eyes narrowed fractionally in confusion and she stepped up to you, her hand reaching for your arm, “I’m just going to have a feel, seems the implant isn’t giving a reading—which I have seen before; we might switch it out today.”

Her fingers gently prodded around the skin until she pinched up a small section of your upper arm and the droid attempted the scan again. The Healer hummed when the droid beeped indignantly, and then walked over to a supply cabinet and began riffling around.

“I thought these implants lasted longer before needing to be changed out?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes the implant does have to get exchanged earlier, it’s not an exact science,” She turned and settled onto a stool next to you, offering you a smile, “But that’s why we do the scans. And of course, the implant still does its job while it’s in your arm. I’m just going to ask you to lie down for me while I do the switch...that’s great thank you.”

You closed your eyes once you were laying on your side, grateful the procedure was painless but not interested in seeing it for yourself. The Healer worked quietly while extracting the implant and you had begun to mull over how they even worked, your medical knowledge in the area fairly basic, when she made a sudden noise of surprise.

You glanced up at her, then followed her startled gaze to the implant held in the extraction prongs. Even you could tell it looked wrong like the tiny medical device had been set on fire, no longer sleek but rather mangled and lifeless.

Healer Boyd stared at the device for a few beats, then looked up at you. “I’m going to have to make a call.”

You waited impatiently for half an hour for Healer Boyd to return, no longer laying on the bed but instead pacing around the small room nervously. You seriously hoped you weren’t about to find out you had some sort of disease or illness, because that seemed like the sort of luck you would have. Though you hadn’t ever heard of any that disintegrated medical devices.

When the Healer did finally reappear, the expression on her face was tightly pleasant, like she was readying herself. “Major, I’ve just been in touch with Healer Martell and his team,” She began, gesturing for you to take a seat.

Tahla had gone back to the outpost he worked from the day after your wedding. So why he was the one Healer Boyd had called only further confused you. “Okay, why...” You trailed off, swallowing heavily.

“I believe you were told that the pollen you and Commander Dameron were exposed to during your mission earlier this year was very rare. So rare in fact that some after-effects are unknown,” She glanced at her droid, which moved forward and began to bandage up your arm where the implant had been removed from, first peeling off the gauze that had been placed there temporarily. You watched with narrowed eyes—they still needed to put in a new one. “And we haven’t ever had a situation where those who were exposed were left untreated for as long as you and your husband were. I ran a few tests on the device while I spoke to Healer Martell. It appears the long-term exposure allowed the pollen to...treat the device as white blood cells would a foreign contaminant.”

You stared, “The pollen destroyed the implant?”

“Yes,” She replied slowly, taking her stool and sitting on it directly in front of you now, “Of course, checking the implant was never a thought-we’ve simply never seen this before. Your implant hasn’t been working since around the time you and the Commander collapsed on base.”

You didn’t understand why she was sitting so close, nor why the droid had left your arm bandaged. “But I can get a new implant, right? Tahla assured me-assured us both, that we no longer have pollen in our systems.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unsure of what emotion you were even experiencing at the moment, just that you could feel it bubbling up inside of you.

“He was correct, you both are free of the pollen. And we can put a new implant in, however not at this time,” And she reached out then, her hand grasping one of yours firmly, “You’re pregnant, Major. Based on today’s check-up, it appears you are about six weeks along.”

Well, fuck.

The first thing Poe noticed when you walked into the room was the bandage on your arm. He’d been sitting at the desk, typing out his report, when you arrived, your expression unreadable.

“Sweetheart,” He shot out of the chair and crossed the room in two strides, one hand landing on your cheek and the other gesturing at your arm, “Did a med droid malfunction?”

You laughed, “No, I’m alright,” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, and your eyes were glassy, not meeting his but instead looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Do you think Charlie would be proud of me? Of how far I’ve come, that I hold the same rank as he did?”

Caught off guard by the question, Poe glanced behind him and found you were staring at the picture of the three of you he had on his corkboard. “Yes, of course, he would,” Concern now flooding him, Poe led you to the bed and helped you take a seat. You still didn’t meet his eyes, your expression torn. “Charlie was proud of you before you even joined the Resistance. Once you did join—hell, he bragged about you all the time.”

“And you? You’re proud of me?”

Poe stared at you for a beat before dropping to his knees in front of where you sat. Sliding between your legs, he gripped your thighs tightly, “What’s going on? Did you get pulled from duty? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, then dropped it to Poe’s shoulder where he could hear you taking slow, measured breaths. “They didn’t pull me. But they suggested different duties.” Poe wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pushing you back so that he could look at you again. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to his and then away. Poe waited as patiently as he could for you to elaborate. “They said—it might be best for me to keep away from the riskier missions. From combat. Because of my condition.”

Poe frowned, his stomach tying itself up in knots of concern, “Condition?”

He saw it then, a brief flash of the emotion you were holding back—joy. It was fleeting like you were scared of it, but it made the whole odd conversation you were now having with him make a little more sense, made your next words a little less shocking.

“I’m pregnant, Poe. My implant was destroyed by the pollen before we...” You trailed off, rubbing your hands over your face and then meeting his gaze again, “They said about six weeks along, so still early which is why I haven’t had any symptoms.”

Poe had lived his life since joining the Resistance with the knowledge that each day that he didn’t get hurt, captured, or killed, was a day to celebrate. After Charlie had died, and you had left, he realized that a single moment could alter his entire existence. One night could change everything, and he only had so much control.

You coming back into his life, that had been a gift. After forgiving one another for the past, you had a chance for a fresh start. And he’d been happy with that, just knowing you were his friend again and that you cared for him--it was enough.

But then you’d told him you loved him. And it had been like every moment, every breath he’d ever taken, had been leading up to that night-as right as it felt, that feeling of coming home, joining his body with yours. Finally saying everything he’d held in for so long, that was as good as life could get. It was perfection, and he had no right to demand more—until he did, and he asked you to marry him, and you’d said yes so quickly and smiled so widely that he remembers, distinctly, thinking to himself, ‘yes, this is enough.’

Pregnant.

The reality of having a child when you were soldiers in the war against the tyranny of the First Order, weighed heavily over the good news. But his first emotions, which hit him like a tsunami, were of radiant joy, the best kind of tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at you, his beautiful wife, his best friend, his soulmate, in wonder. Because surely, even though it was unexpected, life could not be this good? He wanted to ask you to pinch him, just to prove he wasn’t asleep and dreaming up this life with you, but he found words hard to come by, so he smiled broadly.

You had been watching him warily, but the moment his face split into a painfully wide grin, your own broke through and for a minute you just looked at one another, soaking up that happy, astonishing feeling.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed after a while, tears still blurring his vision, “Maker I—pregnant? Are you...how do you feel?”

“Physically, normal? I don’t know about the rest of me, I think I’m in shock.”

Poe reached one hand up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips, “Have you...did you, uh,” He paused, wanting to word this right. He knew he didn’t need to ask you but was determined to treat you with the respect you deserved. It was your body, your choice, and the reality was you had that implant for a reason—he could not just assume your willingness, he had to be sure, to let you know he supported any decision you made. “I will support you here, no matter what you want to do, alright sweetheart? I know this is...this is huge.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his and Poe saw a flurry of emotions cross your features as you considered the implication of his words. “Thank you,” You reached up and placed your hand over the one he had cupping your jaw, “This is huge...and unexpected, and fucking terrifying. I’ve thought about us starting a family, you know—one day. But this is, Maker, Poe, this is our baby. Ours.” You brought both hands cradle over your stomach, a mixture of protectiveness and happiness colouring your words.

The sight of your hands pressed where you were growing his child, the way you spoke so strongly, it did something to Poe. Like it was the final piece of his life, slotting into place and completing him, his chest expanding from the force of it all. He suddenly felt stronger, wiser—and more in love with you than ever, if that was even possible.

He reached out somewhat tentatively, placing a hand over the top of yours where it rested on your so far unchanged stomach, his eyes moving upward until he met your gaze. You drew in a breath at the expression on his face, your eyes widening.

“Ours,” He repeated, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Our family.” He leaned forward then, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the moment. You kissed him back eagerly, your eyes on his lips when he eventually drew back.

“I realize what this means—what keeping the baby will mean,” You admitted sadly, “Even without the Healer’s recommendation, I understand I can’t go into the field any longer. You and I were already blurring the lines of protocol to keep each other safe.”

Poe nodded in agreement, his hand tightening slightly at your stomach, “You are sacrificing a lot to do this, sweetheart. Please know that I understand and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy. I’ll talk to Leia in the morning, ensure we get you a good assignment here.” He felt a little helpless, now, realizing that you had nine months of pregnancy to endure and he could only do so much to help you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” You spoke almost as much to yourself as to Poe, your brows pinching together, “Family comes first, always. So we’ll figure this all out. Together.”

Outwardly, Poe nodded and smiled at you encouragingly. Inside, however, a spark illuminated the stark reality--that he was currently sitting with the love of his life, who was pregnant with his child, in the secret base for the Resistance.

Arguably one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.

34 ABY - D’Qar

Five months pregnant.

Shit, you were exhausted.

It had been another long day. You wanted to blame the baby for draining your energy, but you knew that it wasn’t realistic—you were more mentally exhausted than anything.

Anytime Poe was away for more than a few days at a time, your anxiety spiked and you had trouble focusing on much else. You had surprised yourself, when you first found out you were pregnant, over how quickly the resolve to pull yourself from combat and flight had come over you. You didn’t even miss flying because Poe would bring you out for ‘test flights’ whenever he could get the time, give you a chance to stretch your wings, figuratively, and break any monotony in your schedule.

But you didn’t find your new job boring, because you worked directly for General Organa. You advised and planned and aided her on the daily, in whatever capacity needed, which sometimes allowed you to get a glimpse of the kind of horrors the First Order was performing across the galaxy and it only fueled your internal fire to work hard-not just for her, but for everyone. For the oppressed, those captured, those who had been lost, and especially for your little family. If you could bring this baby safely into the galaxy and give them a good home, then it was easily worth the long hours.

But you worried constantly over Poe. He was out there with Temmin and Kare on dangerous missions; you could do nothing to calm your nerves, and it drained you. Sometimes there were several days between communications and you would inevitably begin to spiral, convincing yourself he was captured or dead, always waiting for the dream that was being married to your best friend to turn into a nightmare.

His missions lately had been especially dangerous, as Black team had been finalizing the search for pieces of a map that lead to Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother. The infamous Jedi went missing after a tragic event no one knew the details of. Even Leia kept that one close, and you never tried to ask. She simply told you that it felt necessary to bring Luke back, not only because he was her brother but to fight the First Order. That was enough for you—if you could bring your brother back, you would stop at nothing to do it.

When you reached the door to your shared room with Poe, your eyes fell heavily shut, relying on your memory of the space to shuffle forward, contemplating if you could manage a shower while this tired or if you should just go straight to bed. You were convincing yourself to shower when an amused voice cut through the air, startling you.

“Are you sleepwalking, sweet girl?”

Your eyes snapped open to find Poe sitting on the edge of the bed, his flight suit discarded on the floor nearby so that he only wore his briefs and a white tee.

“Poe!” You gasped, launching yourself across the room and into his waiting arms. “Stars, you’re home! I thought you’d be gone longer.” He pulled you onto his lap as you spoke, settling you against him and wrapping his arms securely around you before burying his face into your neck. He inhaled you deeply, a new habit he’d established since you’d left Black team as if grounding himself with you.

His breath was warm against your skin when he spoke, “We were able to wrap things up quickly,” He tightened his hold on you with one arm so that he could reach between your bodies with the other and gently place his hand over the slight belly you now had. “How are you two doing? You look so tired, sweetheart.” His tone was laced with worry that you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully quell.

“We’re doing good, Poe, really. Remember what Healer Boyd said—“

Poe sighed, his lips tugging up at the corners, “It’s exhausting work, growing a human?”

You nodded and gave him your best grin, though you imagined it was more sleepy than anything. You studied your husband, from the worry in his face to the bags under his own eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You had sensed there was something he wasn’t saying for a while now but hadn’t figured out how to ask him what was going on. You had no real reason to suspect he was keeping anything from you, it was more of a feeling, and you didn’t want to cause him further stress by accusing him of anything without a better idea of whether you were right.

You usually ended up convincing yourself it was just the weariness and nerves of becoming a parent, a feeling you shared. With how unexpected your pregnancy had been, and the fact that he was off-world more often than not, he must have been feeling a great amount of guilt and concern. So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, to distract yourself from everything. To welcome him home and show him you were just fine, that you missed him.

Every time he came home from a mission, the reunions ended up like this—it was like the relief only lasted so long, therefore you each needed to try and extend that feeling by getting yourselves as close to one another as possible. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, the assurance that you were safe and loved. Your hormones were such that even just a casual look from your husband ensured you became slick with need, and it was as though Poe was experiencing his own version of the same, meeting your insatiable desire with his own at every turn.

You loved the feel of him stretching you, tonight you’d barely been able to get out of your pants before he was pulling you back onto his lap and driving into you, the need to feel one another outweighing the parts that usually preceded; foreplay, clothing removal. You were already soaking and ready for him, rolling your hips as he scooted further onto the bed so that he could brace himself to thrust upward. When he found that angle, the one that made you see stars, you let yourself scream; for him, for more, for everything.

Poe delivered, never faltering in his need to ensure you reached your peak over and over, as though he couldn’t feel pleasure unless you did. You’d never known such an unselfish lover as Poe, and it made you love him even more. Even if sometimes, you thought you might combust from the way he pleasured you, or the way he spoke when making love to you.

The reality was, you and Poe had only just begun to explore one another fully when you found out you were expecting. Newlyweds, your relationship still fresh, and then you were with child—his child—and you discovered he wasn’t only passion and sweetness and slow lovemaking, he was also commanding, cocky, and you loved it when that side of him came out.

When you’d started to show—your belly bulging slightly and your breast swelling, that part of Poe seemed to evolve, as though the sight of you swollen with his child was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. And as you pulled your shirt over your head now, you saw that glint in his eye, the way his pupils blew out as he gazed at you, how he bit his lip before letting out a groan that you swore was the single most erotic sound in the galaxy.

“Like what you see?” You teased, running a hand down your body to rest on your bump, your hips still rolling.

Poe growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “Fuck, you are sexy,” He leaned forward and licked over your breasts as he pounded up into you and you whimpered. “Think about you t-the whole time, when I’m gone, sweet girl.”

“I know, Poe, I miss you too. Think about you when I touch myself-”

Poe’s half-lidded eyes widened, and he was suddenly flipping you carefully onto your back on the bed, his breathing erratic, “Is that true, baby? You touch that pretty cunt while I’m g-gone, wish I was here filling you with my cum?”

He started to rut his hips down at a near brutal pace and you cried out in pleasure, unable to find the words to respond. He didn’t like your silence—commanding, dominating Poe now in full force, and he leaned down to bite a mark into your neck, a snarl tearing from his throat.

He needed to hear you admit it.

“W-wish you could fuck me all the time,” You whispered, your voice cracking as he fucked you into the bed, “Isn’t nearly as—oh shit, Poe I’m gonna-“

Your back arched as the pleasure that had been building up inside of you finally snapped--that hot, wet sensation wiped all coherent thought from your mind, stars painting the inside of your eyelids. You heard yourself repeating his name as you soaked the bed with your orgasm, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock until-

“Oh sweet girl,” He groaned, his hips stilling as he pressed deep into you and spilled his cum, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm; you clutched him close. He didn’t allow any of his weight to fall over you, pulling out slowly before flopping down onto the bed next to you and tugging you into his side. “You okay? Did I got too hard?”

You were panting, completely blissed-out, and it took a moment for his words to register, “Oh, I’m more than okay, flyboy.” Giggling, you rolled onto your side and peered up at Poe, meeting his warm eyes and smiling. “How about you, are you okay?”

You didn’t mean for the level of concern to show in your voice, but it slipped out and he caught on to it immediately, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to consider your question.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke, “I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I worry about you...things are—they’re getting intense out there. Leaving you here doesn't feel as much like I’m keeping you safe as it once did. If this base is ever discovered, the First Order will make its destruction top priority. They won’t hesitate to kill every single person on this planet.”

His voice was heavy, the words coming out easily enough that you knew he’d been thinking this for a long time. He sat up, sitting crossed-legged on the bed and staring across the room at nothing, and you felt a sense of dread begin to grow at the back of your mind. You suspected you might be closing in on what he’d been keeping from you, and suddenly felt afraid to know.

“Poe, we have a lot of things in place here to keep us safe. There are escape plans.”

Still looking across the room, Poe gave a small nod of his head, “But none can guarantee your safety. I know you worry about me when I’m gone—well I’m fucking terrified for you, too. And I—I...” He stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as if he had to physically fight to keep the words in and you frowned, watching him.

You sat up, moving slowly and then reaching down to push the comforter off the bed—it would need to be laundered. You had a few extras for this exact reason. Poe was silent as you moved, his eyes staring unseeingly across the room.

“Poe,” You reached out one hand and touched his shoulder, keeping your voice level despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, “Just say...tell me what you’re thinking.”

Silence.

“Poe Dameron, look at me.” You commanded, and his eyes shot up to meet yours, widening in surprise at the fierce expression on your face.

“I—I’ve got another mission,” He began shakily, a hand coming up to rest over yours on his shoulder, “And it’s big. It’ll just be me and a lot could go wrong, and I can’t stand the idea of leaving you here, that you would stay here if something happened to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue that nothing would happen to him, that, of course, you would stay, only he turned suddenly and brought both hands to cup your jaw, the look of fear on his face like nothing you’d ever seen; you’re Poe didn’t scare, he laughed in the face of fear.

“Sweetheart, I’d be letting you down, letting Charlie down, if I failed to protect you. To protect our baby,” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you didn't like how it felt like he was saying something in that kiss. “I spoke to Leia, a few weeks ago. I asked her...begged her to help me keep you safe.”

Your frown deepened, “I work alongside her every day, Poe, I probably have the safest job in the entire Resistance.”

He shook his head, “What I mean is, I asked her where the safest place would be to hide you until this war is over.” Poe was looking at you cautiously now, and you leaned back to assess his face.

His words confused you. You stammered your reply uncertainly, “Hide me? What do you mean—I’m not going-”

Poe’s face tightened, tears now threatening and his voice came out choked, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to, sweet girl. I have to keep you safe, and the truth is if I do get captured and the enemy finds out about you, about both of you, I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Poe dropped one hand to press over your belly, the gesture both sweet and protective. Your ears were ringing, though, and you didn’t have time to appreciate it. “I don’t want to send you away, you know it’s the last thing I’d ever want, but if you go somewhere safe, then I-“

“You can what, Poe? Fight the First Order all on your own? You do realize what you’re saying, right? We both know how this war is going, it could be years before it’s over. Years before...and what if you get caught and they find out where I am? Then what?” You felt your anger and despair growing by the moment, no doubt exacerbated by the flush of hormones coursing through your system.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from yours briefly, and he gulped almost comically before looking back at you and continuing, “Well, Leia thought of that. She seems to think that...our minds aren’t always going to be safe, that the First Order has a weapon that could break through...so she knows where she is going to send you, but I won’t know. No one else will.”

You stared at your husband for a very long, tense moment.

“B-but if you don’t know where I am-“

Poe blinked and several tears began to stream down his face, “It’s the best way, the only way, to do this. And I promise I’ll fight every day to stay alive and then I’ll find you.” He tried to pull you close again only you resisted, pushing his hands away so that you could give him your harshest glare, which he flinched under the heat of.

“What if, Maker forbid, something happens to Leia? I could be anywhere, in any system on any planet, and you’d have no way to find me, you-“ Your voice started to raise, an almost hysterical surge of emotions bubbling up your chest, “It could be years before the war is over and then a decade before you’d be able to find me! That-that’s bullshit, Poe. You’re going to abandon us on some fucking random planet and we could never see you again!”

You were crying now too, the tears blurring your vision as you shouted, refusing to accept this plan. But the sad way he looked at you as he cried told you Poe was serious, that he saw this as the only way forward, and you wanted to fucking scream.

“Sweet girl, I will never abandon you. I love you so much that even if they do somehow capture me, I won’t ever break, I’ll keep fighting and then if I have to tear this entire galaxy apart, I’ll find you. I promise I will find you,” He wiped harshly at his face, then grabbed your hands and held them tightly in his own, his expression desperate, “I want to meet our baby and watch them grow. I want to give them a sibling or two, even, and grow old together. Leia has everything figured out--she’s even going to have my dad flown here; he can go with you, so you won’t be alone.”

You wrenched your hands from Poe’s and shot off the bed, your eyes widening in betrayal, “Leia has everything figured out?” You repeated, and you saw the realization of what his words had revealed flash across his face, “You-when exactly did you think I was going to get shipped off, Poe?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought back to the beginning of this conversation when he’d claimed to have a big mission in a few days. You gaped at him as the realization hit that he was here for the next several days to get you ready to leave.

To say goodbye.

You burst into tears, heavy sobs pulling from your chest because there was no arguing this, was there? If you didn’t go, he could be out there too worried about you to be focused and then it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? And he was right, this base, even if you were glued to Leia twenty-four-seven, was still a hot zone for attack should its location ever be revealed to the First Order.

And did you truly expect to raise your baby on this base? There wasn’t even any space in this room you shared with Poe for a fucking crib, no places you could go to play, no other children for your child to play with. You had known all this the moment you’d found out you were pregnant, but now the reality of it all was crashing down around you because you’d never thought it would mean having to leave Poe. Again.

Another thought occurred to you, and you ignored the way he was trying to soothe you, now sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping his distance, his expression making clear he wanted to pull you back into his arms.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

Poe tilted his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was staying, that I would have the baby and then you could go get shipped off somewhere safe with them, that I wanted to be the one to stay and fight?”

Poe gaped at you only for a beat, “You said—sweetheart, I asked you if you wanted this and you said you did, I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the baby, that you were okay with leaving the fight. I never wanted you to feel forced to do it!”

“I know,” You agreed evenly, your voice hardening, “But I didn’t know that it meant I was going to be fucking shipped away, Poe!”

You saw him falter then, his entire argument crumbling and he slumped where he sat on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, “You’re right...I’m so sorry, of course, I can’t just expect you to...Fuck.” His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his sobs, and for a moment you stared down at him, his words doing nothing to calm you.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Sure, it was a misstep for him to just assume as the mother that you would be the one to go away and raise the baby, it was old-school thinking. But you were aware of who you married, weren’t you?

He was the best pilot in the Resistance, the strongest fighter, the best of the best. If anyone was going to win this war, it would be your Poe—and while you used to think it would include you being at his side, fighting right along with him, that was no longer the reality. You couldn’t pull the best chance the Rebels had from the fight, and you couldn’t stay and fight yourself.

Which meant you had to leave.

You stepped forward and knelt before Poe, your hands tentatively touching his thighs and he started, his head popping up, “Oh sweetheart, don’t crouch down like that-“

“I’m fine,” You interjected, sliding between his knees and reaching up to cup his face, mirroring the way he’d embraced you so many times before, “And you...you’re right. I’m sorry for—well, I hate how you’ve just sprung this on me, but I know I can’t stay here and raise our baby like this.”

Poe searched your face and you wiped your thumbs under his eyes to clear away the tears, even as the reality of what you were agreeing to settled within you. He shook his head lightly, “I didn’t know how to do this. It’s the last thing...we only just found each other again, the idea of not knowing where you are, not being able to check-in, it terrifies me, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, nodding your head, “You aren’t going to be there when I...” You trailed off, the picture in your head of giving birth without Poe by your side too hard to say aloud. He understood, pulling you close against him as he dropped to the floor, hugging you tightly as you both sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmured, one hand stroking your hair, “I promise I will find you the moment I can, and I’ll never leave your side again.”

You couldn’t help but think, at that moment, that you had been right.

The dream really was a nightmare.

35 ABY - Aboard The Falcon - Sinta Glacier Colony

Poe looked up as a distant noise sounded, peering around Chewbacca to see a wall of Tie-fighters approaching where they were docked in the Falcon. He shared a terrified look with the Wookie.

“FINN! We’re about to be cooked!” He shouted back, hoping that the transmission of the message from their unknown spy in the First Order was nearly complete-they needed to get going.

“We’re almost there!” Finn hollered back, his voice cutting off as he ran to check R2D2, and after a tense moment...“We’ve got it, Poe!”

Poe didn’t hesitate, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly before launching the Falcon forward and away from the informant, the knowledge heavy in his mind that there was a good chance Ovissian Boolio was going to be murdered for giving them the message. But there was nothing to be done for it now; this message was of vital importance to the Resistance, they needed to get it back to base.

The Falcon raced through the bay as fighters gained on their rear. Poe had no doubt that Finn was hurrying to the shooter station, but maintained the high speed and steered as carefully as he could. They hit a corner a little close and there was a shudder throughout the ship as it made contact.

Chewie exclaimed worriedly at this, “I’m sorry, I know, I know!” Poe apologized, frantically readjusting as they heard Finn begin to fire from below. He could see a lot of bogeys on the radar still, “Finn, you’re supposed to be getting rid of those things!”

He heard Finn make a noise before he shouted back, “Got one!”

“How many are left?” Poe swivelled in his seat and started making adjustments to the ship's systems, an idea forming in his mind. Not his best, but definitely not his worst.

“Too many!” Came the response from below. Shit.

The next few moments were incredibly tense as they worked together to outmaneuver the enemies on their tail until each one crashed or was shot down by Finn. Adrenaline was running high aboard the Falcon now as the near-death moments started to pile atop one another. Mission success was currently not guaranteed. Your image appeared in his mind briefly, the memory of the last time he had seen you, the love in your eyes.

He swallowed, swerving the ship up and seeing another wall of fighters ahead, “How thick do you think that ice is?” He asked Chewie, who made a loud noise in caution but Poe only gunned it forward, until relief swept through him—they were able to break through, free of the station and in open space now.

There were still fighters in pursuit, though, so they weren’t in the clear yet. Poe gritted his teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see Finn standing behind him, before bringing the ship into light speed. When he pulled back out, most of the ships had managed to follow and after a bit of complicated flying, he put the Falcon back into light speed as Finn shouted in fear from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Finn cried, gripping the back of his seat. Poe fiddled with the controls, fully aware he was pushing the ship to its limits but not willing to go down without exhausting every last effort to survive.

“Light speed skipping,” He grunted in reply, reaching up to set his parameters with one eye on the fighters still in pursuit.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Poe hit the throttle forward, throwing the ship back out of light speed, “My wife.” He replied, leaning forward and steering around the onslaught of obstacles in their direct path, simultaneously readying the ship to jump again. He heard Finn begin to react to the knowledge the Poe had been married, surprise evident in his friend’s tone, but Chewbacca’s words of caution were louder and Poe glared at him instead, “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?”

He gunned it into light speed, then almost as quickly pulled them back out. His stomach was in his throat as a very large, very alive obstacle was now dead ahead, and Poe silently thanked you for having taught him about light speed jumping before readying the ship to jump again.

“Last jump,” He yelled, leaning forward, “Maybe forever-hold on!”

When they landed the Falcon back on Ajan Kloss, Poe was furious beyond all measure. It wasn’t just that he’d nearly died, again. Almost cost the lives of his friends, again. It was that Rey hadn’t been there, and she was one of the best pilots he’d ever met. She was almost as good as him, nearly as good as you had been. He was heartbroken that you weren’t there to fight anymore—but Rey was and yet she chose to stay on base and train when her joining them on a mission like this would have been a much-needed boost, a much greater chance at survival.

They hurried off the Falcon and Poe lingered momentarily to instruct the ground team, “It’s on fire! Whole things on fire!” Maker, he was getting tired of these close calls. He’d been through a lot—survived a great deal, over this last year, but today was close enough that he had felt the hands of death creeping toward him, momentarily.

When he turned away from the burning ship, Rey was approaching, her face excited despite the condition of the Falcon. He marched over to her with his face straining, attempting to keep his cool.

“Hi! There’s a spy?” She asked brightly, her gaze surveying his stiff posture.

Poe huffed, “Really could have used your help out there.” He admitted, unable to keep the vitriol entirely out of his tone.

Rey frowned, then attempted to change the subject. “How’d it go?”

Poe stopped before her, hands landing on his hips, anger flaring, “Really bad, actually. Really bad.”

“Hans ship!” She exclaimed then, gazing over at the burning Falcon and gesturing in dismay.

Before he could reply, BB8 came whizzing up to Poe, beeping excitedly in greeting. At first, he was happy to see the orange and white droid, until he looked down and realized it was pretty beat up. He glared up at Rey, “What did you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” She countered stubbornly, her arms crossing.

“Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is, Rey!” He exclaimed, gesturing at BB8 incredulously. This was why he found her difficult-here she was, safely on base ‘training’, with the one task of minding his droid. And not only did she fail at that, but she also dared to get angry at him for getting Finn and Chewie, the intel, and himself back safely to base.

“BB8 is not on fire, Poe!”

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire!” He shouted, knowing full well that this was about more than his droid and yet struggling to see past his rage and form a proper sentence in Basic.

Rey seemed to sense his anger and took a breath, steadying herself, “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me first, Rey.” He deadpanned, scowling.

Rey glared straight back at him, holding up her hands in frustration, “You know what you are—you’re difficult. A difficult, stubborn man.”

“You—you are-” Poe cut himself off as he heard Finn call for Rey from behind him, and instead stepped around her to drop before his droid, shaking his head. “You okay, buddy?”

BB8 beeped merrily, sharing with Poe what had happened that afternoon but cutting off to ask if he was alright. Poe sighed, running his hands over his face, but nodded to his droid.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about her a lot today,” He admitted quietly, “Now what happened to you?”

Before BB8 could reply, Chewbacca yelled to Rey and Poe heard his name mentioned before she was walking toward him again, this time with Finn in tow. “You light speed skipped?”

“Yeah, well it got us back here, didn’t it?” He shot back, his hackles raising again. Finn caught Poe’s eye, his expression bright with curiosity—he wanted to know more about you, no doubt.

“You can’t light speed skip the Falcon!” Rey cried in exasperation, her eyes wide and for one moment, Poe wanted to scream. He’d come this close to dying today and had managed to get them all home safely, even if it did mean the Falcon needed a lot of repairs. She couldn’t just thank him, maybe?

His voice was rough when he replied, “Turns out you can, actually.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you even know-“

Finn interjected this time, “Turns out our friend here hasn’t been completely honest with us, eh, Poe?” He grinned, glancing from Rey to Poe, then winked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

With a sigh, Poe frowned before responding. Stepping closer to his friends, he kept his voice low. “That information stays between us, and Chewie, Finn.” He’d mentioned you in the heat of the moment and wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about you. But he’d spent an awfully long time holding back his truth from Rey and Finn and it was starting to feel wrong.

“What information?” Rey looked between them, confused.

When Poe looked at her, he hesitated, his gaze hardening while he considered what he was about to tell her. He trusted Rey, and Finn for that matter, but he’d chosen to keep quiet about you all this time for a reason, and it was hard to break down those walls and talk about you. He’d built them up to protect himself, to keep his pain and sorrow buried down deep.

Poe pointed between them both, his jaw set, “Between us!” He growled, giving them both a harsh look.

Finn clapped Poe on the shoulder, eyes serious, “Of course it does, man. Between us.” He agreed, and Rey nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Poe hesitated for another moment, and then finally confessed.

“I’m married. You uh...you know about my best friend, Charlie...” Poe began and Rey’s expression became understanding while Finn merely gaped, his brows knitting together now in confusion.

“Charlie died,” Rey whispered sadly, recalling the conversation they’d shared a few months prior after Han had died and they were discussing loss. “And didn’t you say...you told us his sister died too—Maker, Poe-!”

Finn gasped, his face morphing in horror, “Brother, you aren’t saying your wife is d-“

Poe couldn’t even stand to hear the words, so he cut Finn off with a rough shake of his head, peering around to ensure no one overheard. “No, that’s just what Leia and I let everyone believe, who knew her. She’s alive.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but Rey kept frowning at Poe, her expression uncertain. “Why did people need to think she was dead? She was one of the best fighters we had, wasn’t she? If she’s alive, can’t she come back?”

Poe shook his head, the emotions he’d held in this past year threatening to spill, and he had to pull in a few breaths to focus. He wanted his friends to understand why he kept fighting, why living and winning were so fucking important.

“I had to send her away, not long before I met you, actually, Finn,” Poe smiled at him, “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I said goodbye, back on D’Qar. I had to ensure she was safe, even if I got captured. And no one could get her location out of me if I didn’t know it. So she’s out there, somewhere, and one day I’m going to ask both of you to come with me to meet her.”

He wiped aggressively at his face, hating the tears that spilled, and waited for their replies. At first, they were both quiet, regarding Poe with dawning comprehension, suddenly understanding exactly what he was saying.

Finn was the first to speak, his voice laced with sadness, “You haven’t seen her for over a year?”

Poe shook his head, and Rey reached out and touched his shoulder gently, her eyes softening, “You said you had to send her away...what does that mean, Poe?”

He gazed down at his feet for a moment, and when he looked up he guessed he must not have kept the emotion off of his face, as each of his friends looked at him in surprise, stilling entirely as they waited for him to reply.

“There wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could ever stop her from fighting. She was my second in command, and would still be to this day, only she-” He thought of you then, how you had long since delivered the baby, wondered how that had been for you, whether you’d recovered well. He knew his dad would be doing everything to keep you both comfortable and safe until Poe could come for you all. His heart still ached. “It’s a long story, I guess. But she got pregnant, and we both realized she couldn’t stay on D’Qar—which was the right call, because look what happened there. Leia smuggled her somewhere far away and didn’t tell me a single detail.”

Rey had brought a hand to cover her mouth in shock, while Finn’s grip on his shoulder had tightened substantially. They both stared at Poe, their expressions a mixture of sadness and joy that he felt every day.

“Poe, man, that’s incredible,” Finn breathed, shaking his head slowly, “You have...a family, you have-“

Poe cut him off with a small smile, “I’ve got a wife and a baby out there somewhere. They’re waiting for me to finish this fight and find them.”

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