#could i be like a femme fatale? squeezing something in my hand while i look you in the eye

[reallymadefromstardust]

I feel like my mental state is better than it has ever been in my entire adult life (which honestly is still not great). I think my favorite part is how it feels like a luxury to take care of parts of me that before I would never have had the energy for.

[nerdraging4point0]

One of my biggest headcanons is that Chris loves tummy kisses, giving or receiving, cute or sexy times. They're a soft form of possessive intimacy he cant get enough of.

Okay, SO I have my own head cannon that this man is appreciative of women in ALL their forms. Especially in the case of those with a little more soft features around the middle and in the thighs.

He is a man that appreciates the beauty of things as they are. Like, sure, you're gonna catch his attention being that Goth bitch at the mall that he could never get his hands on in High School like he wanted. His stage persona often bleeds too much into his real life, Chris Motionless wants that hard goth girl that headbangs at his shoes in leather and chains. It’s a defense mechanism, he’s been turned down and hurt one to many times, therefore, his stage presences takes over to guard the boy inside.

But despite all of that, I feel that the true love in his heart is reserved for something that isn't an aesthetic. He loves that soft fall girl in her oversized beige sweater, because it covers that part of her that she is so self-conscious about. Chris Cerulli, however, wants that down to earth girl who supports him in all endeavors, who holds down the fort at home for him while he is away. The type of girl that makes him miss home just because it’s where he can see her.

At home lying on the bed back on the headboard whether you're reading, scrolling your phone, or just watching the TV. He is lying between your legs head on your tummy arms resting on either side of you. Head turned to see the TV. Every so often he'll turn his head and just give your tummy a soft kiss, nuzzle into the soft flesh before resuming his position to watch the screen.

He has a hand tick, he's always gotta be doing something with his fingers and hands to keep him calm. Just resting them on the side of your hips squeezing the soft flesh that sits there. He makes sure that during these soft moments you have that he pays attention to the places about you that you might find, less attractive, or would rather do away with.

The soft attention to details about you, even as subtle as they are, helps to boost your confidence. That confidence comes out when he’s looking at you like he’ll devour you, asking you to strip for him, when before you had shaky hands and kept your eyes down. His tender love language has given you a femme fatale power that makes you stand up, stare him in the eyes as you peel your shirt over your head. A satisfied smile, the response he gives before his primal nature takes over again.

[cosmo-lexies]

Midnight Rituals - 1. Afternoon walk in the forest

Main characters

Rosemary Booth: She is a demoniac witch of the coven of La Voisin.

Atticus Leonardo Santoro: He is a Lord Vampire.

Lucas Garcia: Werebear of the North pack.

Fenix Walker: Normal guy with good vision.

The book is written with a first-person narrator, each chapter can have one or more main characters telling that part of the story. The name of the narrator will be clearly indicated in bold.

Fenix:

I should be at home watching a movie or playing a videogame, but not, this would be very boring when you can follow a coven of demonic witches to see what is hatching in the middle of the forest.

The truth is that I was expecting some basic ritual, or maybe a little incantation, not summon demons. I wanted to run away before Rosemary and her posse notice me, but maybe I shouldn't. The spell was clearly bad. I mean the corner of the pentagram with obsidian was bad orienting. I could see the magic energies fluctuating strangely. These kinds of errors are that destroyed the dimensional barriers in dangerous ways.

I came out of the bushes, "Hi guys, it's awesome. Do you make wiccan? pretty cool," I didn't have a lot of options for excuses to use. "But, I mean I don't know a lot about this, but the corner isn't to the north, is it?"

My grandmother would have killed me for meddling in supernatural affairs, but that was the right thing. I guess. Well, I didn't have the option to run from the moment I stopped hiding, so why worry?

Rosemary made a bun with her long red hair and approached Kevin, a black boy who I met in my Spanish class in the cultural center. He's usually friendly, although summoning demons subtract points from him. He shook nervously a small dagger that was in his right hand, probably, the dagger that he had used to cast the concealment spells. Ironically, the spells that I had used to follow them.

"You had only a job," Kevin trembled with fear at Rosemary's words. She took the dagger from his hand. "I knew you weren't ready, but you kept insisting"

"I'm sorry Rose..." she nailed the small dagger to the boy's right side before he could say something else.

The guy was in pain but tried to stand straight. I felt sorry for him. I knew the dagger wouldn't do him permanent damage, but I guessed it hurt a lot. Rosemary looked at the two girls who were looking at the scene as if that was normal. "Juri, use a funnel weaver with a sewing spell to close the wound before he passes out, and Mako, you call to Atticus. We'll need him."

Juri approached them. "Rosemary, but the sewing spell leaves a scar."

Rosemary squeezed Kevin's cheeks with a hand. "I know, it's a reminder. If he learns the lesson, maybe I let him remove it," Kavin held back tears while Juri put the spider in his wound. I mean I understand him, that was super creepy.

Rosemary turned back to me, she took a bottle of dandelions from a My little pony makeup case and dropped a drop of Kevin's blood in. She whispered some words, "Κοίμησαι, κοίμησαι μικρό ζωάκι". It was some kind of spell, maybe in Greek.

I made my best fear face and started the performance, "I'm sorry, I don't see anything. Please I want to go home. Never will I say anything," I stammered.

She looked into my eyes, it was very annoyed. She was in the role of a femme-fatale witch and I didn't like the feeling that it produced in me, it wasn't scary but it was still unpleasant.

"That you are so scared to escape is thankfully. I am not in the mood for a hunt," she smiled.

She took a handful of dandelion, and I could see a brow light on them. I supposed that it was a sleeping spell but I didn't know a spell like that with dandelion. I have to study more about this kind of magic in the library. I covered my nose and mount and breathed out strength until I felt a bump in my inner ear. This was supposed to help, but wouldn't avoid the magic at all.

Rosemary had blown the dandelion over me. I could resist anymore and began to breathe again. I'm not sure if I swallowed any dandelion but I started to feel sleepy in a few seconds. I lay on the ground, my body was heavy and I had a sensation like I hadn't slept in two days.

She put her hand on my cheek and said, "Fenix, you shouldn't have poked the bear."

Rosemary:

Fenix fell asleep very soon. I don't know why he breathed so weirdly when I use the dandelion on him but it had done the spell worked very well. I let her head rest on the ground carefully. Fenix was a very weird and annoying classmate, he always looked at me like I have something strange on my face, but I preferred not to hurt him. More paperwork.

"Juri, do you finished with Kevin?" I asked.

"I think, the spider is starting with the wound," she said insecurely. I was surrounded by incompetents.

"Tie this little animal to a tree with a..." We needed something that would keep Fenix at bay in case he woke up early, "a serpent."

She approached me "Rosemary but conjuring a serpent it's very complicated. I don't know if I can," she said.

"With a serpent scale and a cord, you can use a simple illusion spell. Can you handle it?" I sighed.

She nodded and I went to the inner summoning circle where Mako was hanging up.

"Rose, Atticus was in Lucas's they are already coming," she said.

"I will never understand this friendship," a heavy sound caught our attention, Juri had dropped Fenix against the tree, "Was there no one better?" I said to Mako.

"It's what there was. You are the princess bee yet, no one in the coven wan to help you obtain much power."

"Yeah, but they are so useless," maybe I should have criticized her girlfriend, but my mother always said that a sibylline tongue it's the most powerful spell to control people.

"I know, but it's so hot," she said and bit his lip looking at Juri. "Do you want to cancel it?" she asked while she kept looking at Juri intensely.

"It's too late, the incense is burning yet. The veil between worlds is torn. Let's go!"

[viastro]

swindled | joshua hong

ミ★ synopsis: you’ve discovered you have a knack for the game of poker, and you’ve earned the title of femme fatale at the casino you go to. when you hear of another casino in gangnam where the stakes are higher, you obviously go. however, you have to watch out for the guy who has earned the title of, swindler.

ミ★ genre: poker!au, gambler!au, fluff, humor

ミ★ warnings: i know absolutely nothing about poker or gambling .

ミ★ word count: 3,186

ミ★ pairings: joshua hong x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! i actually know nothing about poker or gambling so i had to look up websites on how to play poker HAHAHAHA i got the idea when i was playing solitaire and i was like... it’s absolutely time. i also made this gif ?? it was a lot harder than i thought it would be but idk. 24H joshua is truly something else. thank you to my babie, @starlightshua​ for helping me choose who to write this about and teaching me about the game ! i hope you guys enjoy it even with my lack of knowledge of the game </333

“If you don’t win a lot, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh fuck off Sooyoung, you’re acting as if I don’t have my own room and you have yours.” You state, turning around and giving your best friend a thumbs down. She chuckles, running a hand through her hair before quickly walking over to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“You know that I’m kidding. Be safe and always keep your phone on so that I can see where you are, mm?” You grin, nodding your head at her. You could tease her about how you’ve been doing this every weekend for the past few months and that she says the same thing each time you leave, but you know Sooyoung’s just worried.

gambling is a dangerous world.

You got into gambling when you were running a bit low on money. You needed to pay your tuition, your insurance, your rent, and your job wasn’t giving you enough. Desperate times called for desperate measures. And that’s how you ended up at the casino, relying on your basic knowledge and skills that you learned from your brother to play a game of poker. 

And you ended up winning. Then you slowly kept on winning, finding that you have a knack for the popular casino game. You upped the stakes a bit more each time you learned a new skill or technique, and you earned the title of femme fatale. 

Which you thought was rather ridiculous considering that you weren’t seductive when you’d play poker, the exact opposite actually. However, they all called you that because you ultimately brought disaster to everyone you played the game with. 

now that was something you agreed with.

You give off the shy, innocent, persona of a woman who’s never played poker before. Let alone been to a casino, but those who played with you before know better. When you play the casino game with people who you haven’t played with? They underestimate you. 

and that’s how you prove them wrong.

Tonight will be one of those nights where you play with a whole new group of people, as you’re going to a different casino then the one you usually go to. You were told by one of the casino employees you’ve gotten decently close to, Yoongi, that the casino in downtown Gangnam has a poker room that offers a lot of money. 

“Deadass? Are you sure that the players aren’t like, godly though?” Yoongi rolls his eyes at you, and you grin. 

“Yn, you’ve become more well known. While most players may not know your face, they know of your title. The femme fatale.” You chuckle at the nickname you’ve earned, wondering just how many poker players must know of you. Yoongi shuffles the cards in his hands, before glancing back at you.

“You think I’ll win?” You ask, and Yoongi smiles. 

“I know you can, yn. Watch out though,” You raise an eyebrow. Yoongi places the shuffled cards down onto the table, letting out a breath. 

“There’s a well known poker player who goes there. He’s earned a nickname just like you hotshot, he goes by Swindler. He’s only lost two games, and apparently he’s really good at tricking his opponents. Better put that innocent, don’t know how to play poker, persona on if you encounter him.” 

“Of course I will. I’ll be okay Sooyoung, I’ll see you later tonight.” You tell her, and she nods. She gives you a quick squeeze before letting you go, watching you step out of your shared apartment. She lets out a sigh, crossing her arms.

“Hope she wins big tonight, I want a switch.” Sooyoung mutters, before turning around and walking into the kitchen to prepare you dinner.

You walk into the casino, letting out a breath at the pretty decor. It seems to be a lot nicer than the casino close to your apartments, but the overpowering scent of cigarettes is the same.

and it’s disgusting.

You push the lone strand of hair behind your ear as you look around for the poker room, as you are in the area where all the slot machines are. You feel eyes on you as you walk around, and you don’t really blame them. You’re not really in any fancy attire, or in clothes that you’d typically see on people playing in a casino.

No. Instead you’re wearing an oversized blue crew neck with a mock white collar underneath, paired with a white pleated skirt and white sneakers. You don’t look like you’re supposed to be in a casino, let alone about to play a big round of poker, but alas…

femme fatale.

You finally find the poker room, and you quickly walk over to the host and ask them to sign you up for the next round. They write your initials down, and you step away to buy your chips for the game. Once that’s done, you stroll around the casino as you wait for the next game to be called, chips hidden in your large crewneck.

“Is it your first time at a casino-”

“AAAA!” You screech, jumping up and turning around at the sudden voice. You lift a hand to your beating heart, looking up and locking eyes with a holy mother of god almighty.

The ethereal man staring down at you has eyes similar to that of a cat, full of mischief and curiosity. His lips are quirked up into an amused smile, with dark brown hair parted to show his forehead and strong eyebrows. You can tell he’s well built through his button down shirt based on the way you can see the outline of the muscles on his arms. 

“Did I scare you?” He asks, voice full of honey and it makes your knees weak. You don’t respond right away, still wondering how someone can be so fucking handsome, and the man smiles at your silence. You shake your head, eyes widening when you realize you’ve been fucking staring. 

“Oh shit! Sorry, yeah you scared me a bit. It’s okay though, I’m easy to spook.” You explain, and the handsome stranger lets out a melodic laugh. You feel warmth begin to rise to your face at the fact that you were able to make him laugh, and you thank the casino gods for blessing you with being able to speak to this man. He runs a hand through his hair, tilting his head at you with an amused grin on his face. He outstretches his hand towards you, and you nonchalantly wipe your right hand against your skirt to make sure it’s not sweaty. 

“I’m Joshua.” You smile, reaching out and grasping his hand, feeling warmth flood your system at the contact. You give him a firm shake, and Joshua finds your eyes to hold nothing but wonder as you stare at him. “I’m yn, it’s nice to meet you.” 

You and Joshua let go after a moment, and he glances around the casino to see if there’s anyone who came with you, but he finds no one. He raises an eyebrow, “Not to be rude, just genuinely curious, but why are you here at a casino? You don’t look like the type to gamble.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, remembering that you have to act clueless. You shrug your shoulders, flashing a smile in his direction. “I don’t know, I just wanted to play some games. My friends and I would play casino type games for fun at the dorms, so I thought, why not?” 

Joshua nods his head, knowing what you mean. The two of you stand beside each other, looking around the casino for a moment in silence. However, it’s not uncomfortable by any means, it’s somehow the exact opposite. 

“Well yn, do you wanna watch me play poker? I can teach you some moves.” Joshua offers right when your initials get called into the poker room. You smile, shaking your head at him. 

“I actually just got called for my poker game.”

“Oh, me too.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before turning your heads towards the room, before glancing back at each other. His mouth slowly drops open, and your eyes widen when you realize that you two are going to be playing against each other.

“Oh bitch!”

“Damn, guess I can’t teach you any moves.” Joshua mutters, and you let out a little giggle, making him smile at you. The two of you head over to the poker host, telling them to lock it up for you. 

“Do you want to post?” The host asks you, and you shake your head at them. They nod, and you sit down in your seat. Joshua soon finds that he’s sitting directly across from you, and he gives you a small smile as he sits down. You place your chips onto the table, before leaning back into your seat as you wait for the other players to arrive. 

“Oh shit, it’s the Swindler. Dude, we’re going to lose big time.” You hear a group of guys say as they walk up to your table. You raise an eyebrow, glancing around to see who it could possibly be, but you find that it’s still only you and Joshua seated. Joshua lets out a chuckle at their words, leaning forward and flashing the group a smile as they sit down in the open seats. 

Your eyes widen slightly when you realize that he is the guy Yoongi warned you about. Him ! Joshua ! The ethereal looking man that you want to literally make out with !! He’s the Swindler, and you need to be on edge around him. 

You and Joshua lock gazes, and you find the mischief in his eyes has increased tenfold, and he smirks when the last two seats are taken. You look away, glancing down at the table when the poker host begins to explain the rules. The cards get dealt to the six of you, and that’s when those around you start putting in their chips. 

“You don’t look like someone who should be playing poker.” The guy beside you states, and Joshua looks up at you with a raise of his eyebrow.

holy shit that was hot.

You turn and glance at the guy, giving him an innocent smile. Joshua watches as a blush immediately forms on the man’s face, and he bites the inside of his cheek. His eyes land back on you as you lean back into your seat, shrugging.

“Guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?” You ask, and the guy nods his head. You turn back towards Joshua, and grin when you catch his stare. 

“Let’s have fun tonight boys.” You say as you place a couple chips into the middle to start off the game. 

“I’m all in.” Joshua states, pushing all his chips into the center of the table.

“Aight, I’m folding. I don’t have any more chips, and I know for a fact I can’t beat either of these two, and I have no idea who this girl is or where she came from, but Jesus Christ. She’s good.” The last guy states, pushing his cards towards the dealer and standing up from the table. Now it’s just you and Joshua, who’s staring intensely at you as he waits for your next move.

The game has been going on for close to an hour now, and it’s truly just a match between you and the handsome man across from you. The winning pile is currently $2,000 dollars now that Joshua went all in, and you feel your hands itching to be able to hold that money. However, you have to beat the Swindler before you can be able to earn that, and you know you’re going to have to make a risky move to obtain that. Joshua was shocked to say the least when you switched to your competitive mode, obviously having not expected you to have so much knowledge of the game. 

He’s unable to tell if you’re bluffing, and that’s the first time this has ever happened to him. He’s the Swindler, he’s able to tell when someone is bluffing from a mile away, and he’s the best at the act himself. That’s how he’s won almost all of his games, but this time, he has a fantastic hand. 

A royal flush.

While you, you just have junk, different numbers of different suits with a single queen. However, you can bluff like your life fucking depends on it. Which it basically does, because Sooyoung would absolutely kill you if you came back to the apartment empty handed. 

You wonder whether or not you should make this next decision, because it’s a huge win or lose situation. Joshua’s incredibly good at the game, and you find that you can’t tell whether he’s bluffing or not, which is concerning. However, you feel that you have the upper hand. Joshua watches as your eyes fill with mischief, and he feels a sweat break out on the back of his neck as he wonders what you’re planning. 

You send him a sweet smile, and Joshua raises an eyebrow at you. You hide your anxiousness before pushing in all your chips into the center of the table. Joshua’s eyes widen slightly once you lean back into your seat afterwards.

“I’m all in.” 

Joshua stares at you, wondering what your plan is. There’s no way you could’ve beat him, he has a royal flush for Christ’s sake. He glances at his cards, seeing the winning hand in his grasp, and he’s about to look up with a smirk when he pauses.

what if she has a royal flush with the same suits?

Joshua looks up at you, and he sees you staring at him with a smile on your face. Feeling more stressed, he unbuttons another button on his shirt, and your eyes trail down to the exposed skin. Joshua leans forward, eyebrow raised at you, and you feel your heart rapidly beat against your chest. 

“You know I’m going to win, right?” You scoff, shaking your head, and Joshua squints at you. “I have a royal flush, pretty. What do you have?” 

You stare at him, clicking your tongue. An open mouthed smirk takes over your features, which Joshua finds incredibly attractive, but he can’t get distracted by your beauty right at this moment. You tilt your head to the side, “I have a royal flush as well.”

Joshua frowns at your answer, having no idea whether or not you’re lying. While you just stare at him in amusement, knowing that you’ve riled him up.

“What’s your game here, yn?” Joshua asks you, and you smile. You lean forward, matching his stance, and the corner of his lip quirks up in amusement.

“Nothing, Swindler.” You answer, and he bites his lip as he leans back into his seat, finding himself both amused, and scared of you. It becomes a staring contest, him trying to find a crack in your appearance to be able to see if you’re bluffing. While you stare back into his eyes, listening to your wild heartbeat as you pray that you won’t have a big loss tonight. You repeat Yoongi’s words in your head like a mantra, knowing that he told you about this casino for a reason.

Joshua bites the inside of his cheek after a moment of thinking, feeling in his gut that you’re not bluffing at all. He lays his cards down on the table, “I’m folding.” 

You stare at the beautiful royal flush laid out before you, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

The crowd that surrounded the table gasps, having not seen the Swindler fold in months. Joshua glances back up into your eyes, and the feeling of dread enters his system when he finds your eyes filled with mirth as you stare back at him. You smile, placing your cards face up on the table, and the blood drains from Joshua’s face when he sees the junk cards laid out before him. 

You reach out and rest your finger under his chin, lifting up his head until his eyes lock with yours once again. You smile down at him, 

“You just got swindled, Swindler.” 

“$3,998, $3,999, $4,000. There you go ma’am, congratulations.” You smile, taking the cash and putting it into your bag. 

“Thank you so much! Have a wonderful rest of your night!” You say cheerfully, giving them a wave, before turning around and walking away. You head towards the exit, looking around the casino as you do so, feeling grateful for your big win. You glance back towards the doors, and make eye contact with Joshua, who is staring at you with a small smile on his face. You grin, walking up to him giddily. 

“Hey Swindler.” Joshua scoffs at the nickname, shaking his head at you. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Can I call you Swiper?”

“That’s even worse.” You and Joshua laugh for a moment, and he lets out a sigh once the two of you calm down. He looks you up and down, and you raise an eyebrow at the action.

“So you’re the femme fatale I’ve been hearing about.” Joshua states, and you smirk at him. Shrugging your shoulders, you lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s me.” 

“I guess I don’t need to teach you any tips on how to play poker, huh?” Joshua says, causing you to let out a small giggle. You shake your head, letting out a playful sigh.

“I’d still like those tips, Joshua.” You tell him, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Do you?” 

“How else am I supposed to see you again?” You ask, and Joshua stares at you for a moment, before letting out a chuckle and shaking his head at you. You smile, before suddenly realizing that the two of you have slowly been inching closer to each other throughout this whole conversation. Heat rushes to your cheeks at the close proximity between you and Joshua, and he finds the sight rather endearing. 

“Can I take you out to eat? I know a good hotpot place nearby.” Joshua asks, and you bite your bottom lip when a smile threatens to break out. He grins, noticing that your eyes are a lot softer when you’re not in the middle of an intense round of poker. 

“I’d love to, shouldn’t I pay though? Considering that you just suffered a terrible loss.” You tease, and Joshua immediately squints at you, causing you to laugh and pat his arm in apology. He rolls his eyes, the fond smile on his face showing that he holds no malice. Joshua finds himself more attracted to you by the second, as do you.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, femme fatale.” Joshua states as the two of you turn and walk out of the casino. You chuckle at the term, turning your head to glance up at the sparkly eyed man, who’s staring down at you with a bright smile on his face.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Swindler.”

[mandalorewhore]

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter  (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily​

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man. 

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew  something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

    You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to  not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake. 

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again. 

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off  as a droid. 

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment. 

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason.  Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

    “I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness. 

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond. 

    “Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

    “Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

    “O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

    “Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine. 

    “Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops. 

    He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.” 

    There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.” 

    A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?” 

    “That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

    “Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you. 

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

    “16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous. 

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind. 

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer. 

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

 You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions. 

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

    You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?” 

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?” 

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze. 

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet. 

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness. 

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away. 

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling. 

“You can carry it from now on.” 

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit? 

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire. 

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry. 

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

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

 You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you. 

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

          But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on. 

You wish they would fear you like that.

          Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

          “Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

          “I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

          “Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

          “It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

          The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

          “Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector. 

          Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

          Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

          “She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you. 

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

          Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip. 

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job. 

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology. 

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome. 

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time. 

    “I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger. 

    “Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted. 

    “My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose. 

    After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

    “I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.” 

    You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

    “I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

    “Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

    This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

    “On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this. 

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.” 

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously. 

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it. 

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants.  He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.” 

He waves back. “You as well, girl.” 

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------   

    It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

    Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere. 

    As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

    It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

    Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about. 

    Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path. 

    It’s almost funny how quickly things go south. 

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated. 

    “I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

    You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison. 

    The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement. 

The blast misses by a few inches. 

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

    You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

    Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

 As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here. 

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof. 

He saved your ass. Again. 

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there. 

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about. 

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is. 

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it. 

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

    He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?” 

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street. 

----------------   

The walk back to the Crest is short.

 You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall? 

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you. 

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp. 

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot. 

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it. 

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot. 

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that. 

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles. 

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again. 

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him. 

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan. 

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now. 

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire. 

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach. 

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead. 

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal. 

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian. 

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.” 

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that. 

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath. 

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit. 

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game. 

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-” 

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life. 

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-” 

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt. 

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims. 

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement. 

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words 

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours. 

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing. 

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.” 

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator. 

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.” 

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks. 

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness. 

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

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

     It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

    The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this. 

    “Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly. 

And so you do.

[donutloverxo]

Never been kissed

Authors notes- this is for @official-and-unstable-satan she needed some Nat I added Steve cause I'm a hoe. It's also inspired by that hot scene in game of thrones where that handmaid teaches khaleesi how to be dominant. Also if you ever wonder what I'm like irl I'm exactly like Drew Barrymore. Happy reading 💕

Please do not steal or repost my work. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- You're nervous about being intimate with Steve because you're inexperienced. Natasha guides you.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x reader, Natasha Romanov x reader

Warnings- smut, virgin reader, inexperienced reader

Word count- 1.5k

Masterlist

You clutched your small purse to your stomach nervously. This was yours and Steves first date. You knew what was expected at the end of a date. You had seen your fair share of movies and heard all about it from your friends.

You both looked at each other trying to make small talk to ease the tension. This was the part where he gives you a good night kiss. Then you feel fireworks going off or get butterflies in your stomach.

The only thing was... you had never felt butterflies. You had never been in love or really kissed someone. The kisses you did have were small pecks or drunken mistakes while playing truth or dare.

You knew very well it was strange for someone as old as you to not only be a virgin but also not knowing how to kiss. But you never got the chance. You always felt love would find you instead of the other way around.

And find you it did. In the form of Steve Rogers. You had been in love with him ever since you met him. He made you feel things you had only ever read about. After months of dancing around each other he finally gathered the courage to ask you out.

You would be the world’s biggest idiot to say no. So here you were. Wondering whether you should grab his face and kiss him silly or just go for a good old fashioned hug. It was quite a dilemma.

Maybe you can order one of those toy rubber mouths or faces you’d heard about to practice? No nope. You didn’t need anymore reasons to be called a weirdo.

Steve caged you in by leaning slightly on your door. You knew what was on his mind.

You were always hypnotised by his cushiony dark pink lips. You’d fantasied million times about how they would feel on your lips.

“Alright good night”, you blurt out and turn around to open the door stepping inside.

He blinks a couple of times staring at you wondering what he did wrong. “Good night.” He says not so sure of himself. “I’ll see you soon?”

***

You needed some guidance and you needed it fast. Before your second date with Steve. So you don’t make a bigger idiot out of yourself.

So you called the first person you could think of. Natasha Romanov. She oozed sex appeal. You knew she was an expert because you’d seen her playing men to get what she wants. She reminded you of a femme fatale. While you may not be the best of friends yet. She agreed to help you.

You were fiddling with the helm of your dress, sitting on Natashas couch beside her, sipping on some wine to calm your nerves.

“So what do you want to learn?”, she asked swriling her wine in her glass. Leaning back on the couch propping her feet up on her coffee table.

She was wearing a camisole and some short shorts. Her breasts falling out of the tight little thing. You tried not to stare for too long. You didn’t want to be rude.

You had always been attracted to Natasha. Looking at her made you question your sexuality.

“I... you’ll laugh at me”, you huffed like a child.

She chuckled at that before covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t”

You give her a small smile nodding. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. Or well never properly kissed anyone before. I don’t know how...” you trailed off looking away from her.

She put her glass on the coffee table before scooting closer to you. She grabbed your chin to make you look at her. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Trust me I can teach you.”

She winks at you taking your glass from you putting it on the coffee table. You move your body to face her. Your eyes fixated on her lips. They were a lot like Steve’s, maybe a tad darker in color. “Can I kiss you?”, she asked caressing your cheek.

You eagerly nodded your head. She pulled your head in and lightly touched her lips with yours. Not really knowing what to do with your hand you choose to settle them on her waist. You felt a slight tingle between your legs when your breasts touched. You so desperately wanted to touch, squeeze, grope them. But you refrained yourself. She was helping you. You can’t take advantage of her.

You feel her squeezing your lower back. She pulled away just an inch to say. “Open your mouth”

You instantly followed her command slightly opening your mouth. She slid her tongue in yours. You made a mental note of how she played with your tongue and stroked it with hers. How she moved her velvety lips against yours making soft squishy noises.

You both pulled away gasping for breathes. “You’re a natural.” She said playing with your hair.

You smiled and shivered at the praise. Which didn’t go unnoticed by her. She had also seen you check out her breasts and her butt more than once. She looked down at her cleavage. She couldn’t really blame you her nipples were protruding through her skin tight black camisole.

“You wanna touch?” She couldn’t help but play with you and only feel slightly sorry about it.

You raised your hands shyly to touch them. You gave them a slight squeeze before quickly retrieving your hands.

“Let’s move on to something more challenging.” she said taking your hand pulling you to her bedroom.

Next thing you knew she grinding on your hips on top of you. While it didn’t necessarily stimulate you in anyway, it was amazing to see her like that. A flimsy strap of her camisole fell down from her shoulder.

“People who appear controlling, put together”, she breathes while still grinding fastening her pace “always want to let lose and be dominated. You’ll have to take control when you’re with cap” she threw head back.

You stared at her wide eyed. You didn’t tell her about Steve. But then again nothing really gets by her. She came with a scream her shorts and your dress ruined.

“I got carried away there” She gulped around nothing. With you looking at her like that. What else was she supposed to do? “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You gasp lightly looking away from her staring at the ceiling. You had tried to get yourself off many times. Either it didn’t work or you weren’t sure if it worked. You uncertainly looked back at her shaking your head.

“Well it’s only fair that I return the favor.” She moved down a bit and settled between your thighs pushing them apart. You were torn between pushing her away or pushing her towards your crotch. She shoved your dress up to your stomach and pulling down your panties exposing your pussy to her.

She touched your lips, lightly grazing over your clit. Your gasps and breathes turning her on and encouraging her even more so. She rubbed your clit between her thumb and her finger. It didn’t take her long to find it. Not with you being so responsive. You thrashed and squirmed on the bed. You had never felt so good. You wanted her to stop but at the same time you needed her to keep going at all costs.

You whined when she removed her fingers. She grabbed your hand leading it to your clit. She taught you how to roll it and stroke it with your fingers.

“Keep going” She demanded watching you roll it like she was just a minute ago. She pushed a finger inside you and then another. When you stopped she ordered you to keep rolling it again. In a tone that left no room for negotiation.

She pumped her fingers in and out of you staring at them shining in your juices. You felt yourself clenching around her fingers.

“I think I’m coming” You moaned. She swatted your hand away replacing it with her mouth, harshly sucking on your clit whilst still pumping her fingers in and out of you.

You came screaming gushing all around her mouth and finger. White spots surrounded your sight. You vaguely heard Natasha saying something about you being a squirter.

You came back to earth in a few minutes looking down to see Natasha's chin propped on your stomach smiling at you.

“Rogers is one lucky guy”

You blushed at that looking away. She helped you put your panties back on.

“Remember you don’t ever have to do anything you’re not comfortable with”, she said as you were putting your shoes back on to leave.

“I won’t”, you smiled at her. She gave you a small peck on your lips as a goodbye.

You couldn’t wait to try the things you’d learned with Steve. Maybe you could ask Natasha for advice again. There was still so much more to learn.

[subidol]

Pairing: Sub!Skz Ot9 x Dom!Reader

⚠️: NSFW, orgy, slight Dom!Changbin

A/N: This one was really popular when I uploaded it the first time lol.

Seungmin and Hyunjin looked up at you with heavy lidded doll eyes, their lips red and swollen from your kisses. Rapist lay on the bed next to you, panting, completely fucked out from your earlier antics; overstimulating sweet Rapist was so fun! Too bad he didn't last nearly as long as Minsung were- the two boys were for once, patiently watching as you played with the other members, awaiting their turn. Hyunjin shook when you squeezed the base of his dick particularly strong and closed his eyes, gripping onto Seungmin's hand, who was also on the edge of release, his time having been up before he could cum. Their labored breaths mixed together, along with the quickening breaths of Felix, Chan and Changbin, who were definitely enjoying the show. You admired Hyunjin's exposed body, his skin tinted with a pink flush of arousal. His breath hitched, anticipating what was to come next.

"Choke him."

The room turned silent and everyone turned to see Changbin, CHANGBIN, demanding you to choke Hyunjin. And you fucking loved it. Tutting, you got up and walked over to the boy, gripping his chin, although he wouldn't dare meet your gaze.

"I tell you what. If you're going to order someone around, why don't you try to take control of Hyunjin and Seungmin over there, because if you can't dominate them...i can hardly see you having the confidence to ever give me orders again."

In the corner of the room, Chan and Felix were standing awkwardly next to each other; this was wrong. In all seriousness, every single member of Stray Kids were dying to fuck (Y/N) (L/N) in turn, and heck...they'd still go for it, even if it meant losing their dignity to a sadistic, femme fatale girl like you. Their eyes darted around the room to lock onto Changbin gripping Hyunjin's and Seungmin's throats like no tomorrow, whispering dirty things into their ears, and unbuckling his belt. Suddenly, an intoxicating voice snapped them out of their trance.

"Hey~ Come on, my Aussies~ How badly do you want your cocks inside me?"

S i l e n c e

"Hmm? I'll give you ten seconds to decide. Who will take me first, huh?"

They both gave each other a knowing glare and both sprinted over to you, grabbing your shoulders and staring every inch of you down.

"Pathetic."

Without warning, you push them both to the ground, and they sank to their knees in shock and looked almost apologetic. Almost. But they would be soon. Chris whined out as your nails scraped up his bare chest, leaving faint red marks. Felix was more then jealous. But if they wanted you, they'd have to earn it, just like Changbin who was currently face fucking Seungmin while Hyunjin kissed at his body.

"So..i'd like to hear it. Which one of you is the best at fucking me? Hmm? How about we make it a little game. How about both of you fuck me and whoever i feel did the best job gets their pretty little body marked up. How does that sound?"

They both nodded and before you knew it, you were being fucked roughly by the both of them, their cocks both inside you, pleasure starting to build up within the depths of your stomach. As Chan plunged into you from the back, you gripped onto Felix's shoulders, leaving evident bruised as blood was drawn. Then your other hand made its way to his ass, the grip tightening, more and more breaths being drawn into the boy's mouth.

Meanwhile, Jisung and Minho were getting restless, and had resorted to feeling each other up. Jisung felt his hyung's cock twitch under his palm. Minho snapped, and forced Jisung to open his mouth wide to take his cock, which the younger eagerly obliged to. Chan and Felix were still thrusting into you at a brutal pace, groaning with their damn Australian accents, and it was making you even more aroused. Especially when behind you, there was also Changbin taking your orders well. But something felt off, and you twisted your head to meet Minsung's.

"(Y-Y/N)!!"

Felix and Chan unexpectedly came at almost the same time, just as you ordered them to pull out immediately, fuming with anger.They sat back, trying to collect their breaths when they also realized what you were so worked up about; the other two boys were shamelessly toying with each other, without permission.They knew what was going to go down when you roughly pulled Jisung away from Minho's grasp by his ear, and plopped him down on the bed, ass first. Stray Kids all stopped their activities and instead focused on the action between you and the one out of line.

"Jisung. Can you tell me what you did wrong?"

Minho started to laugh, muffling the sounds into his palm, but stopped as soon as you had practically thrown him back onto the mattress, too. He bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed as he shook head to toe. Jisung licked his lips, wiggling his hips, ready for what was awaiting him.

"Thats right. Both of you, hands behind you back. Woojin, tie them up. I'm going to give them a spanking before the night ends. And that goes for anyone else who tries to disobey me. Bad boys get punished."

Smack.

Minho's ass was reddened to the max, his face pressed against the pillow. Jisung was next, and he let out a strained moan. That was when Changbin couldn't take it anymore; he had done everything you had asked. Why...why wouldn't you let him fuck you?

"P-please..(Y/N)...let me...let me..."

With one swift swish of your hand, you slapped him in the face, making him gasp and jolt, but still stood still with his head slightly turned to the side in embarrassment.

"You're going to have to do better than that. Although...you have been a good boy. Better than any of these whores, am i right?"

Your next move was to peg Changbin senseless. But only hell knew what else was going to happen in the Stray Kids' dorm that night... and maybe Jeongin...well..they had put him in the room next door to practice alone. Lets just hope that those walls were soundproof.

[digitalcomfortspot]

(All artwork accompanying this fic was doodled by the amazing @mxgumshoe! Go commission them!!!)

"Come on, Stone...! Hang in there!"

Zenigata sat over his partner as they writhed and whimpered under the heat of the fever. Their entire body was burning to the the touch, and they had lost consciousness an hour ago. The poison that fiend had given him was working far faster than anticipated, and Zenigata was getting worried that Lupin and the gang might be too late.

The antidote to the poison they'd been shot with was used as a ransom for Interpol, the monsters who concocted the poison holding it for a whopping 2.7 billion euros. If they wanted Stone- and several other downed civilians- to live, they'd have to fork over the cash or steal it themselves.

Koichi had practically begged Lupin and the gang on his knees, even if it was just a telephone call. He was close to tears when he asked them to steal it for him, and once they heard his partner in crime catching was involved, they agreed readily.

Now, it was just a waiting game.

Koichi paces, hands holding his hat against his chest. Worried thoughts raced through his head, as he waits. And waits. And waits.

Eventually, he practically wears a track in the carpet, and decides to sit.

When he hears Stone stir, he practically jumps to their side. "Stone-!!!"

"Hh... hey, Zeni...ga..." They try to say, but it turns into a flurry of wheezing, harsh gasps as they try to sit up.

"Don't strain yourself, partner! Lay back down, Lupin and the gang should be here any minute now...! Come on, now, lay back down!" He says, gently leading them back against the mattress with a hand on their head.

"Ze... zenigata... please..." They try to speak.

"What? What is it?" Worry paints his face, as he runs a hand gently theough their fading hair. With all the work, they hadn't been able to re-dye it, and it was fading to brown again.

It was funny how he noticed those tiny details more than ever in times of danger... like Laura's eyes in the sunlight. He blinks away the burning sensation of tears.

It won't be like Laura. It can't be like Laura. He won't let it be.

Not again.

"... i-in case I don't... make it-" They try to say, looking up at his with cloudy, tired eyes, but he interrupts them.

"Yer gonna make it! Don't say that like you're dying on me...!!" His eyes fill with tears, and he holds their hand tightly, his other hand still brushing back their sweat slicked hair out of their face.

They give him a pained, soft smile. "I... heh... a-always stubborn... hh...." They grimace, feeling pain flare into them again, before they try again. "Just... l-let me say this... please..."

He nods, leaning forward. "What is it, Magnus...?" He sounds like he's breaking, voice crackling with emotion and sorrow. Not like this... not like this, please, whatever powers that be, he thinks. Not like this.

"I-I..." They look up at him, with a soft expression pushing througu the agony.

".... K-Koichi, I... I lo-"

Just then, the door bursts open, and in clambers the gang all at once. Lupin holds out the bottle of pulls he'd swiped, he and Jigen covered in bruises. Goemon was mostly unscathed, and Fujiko seemed to be checking behind them to make sure no one followed. No smiles were to be found this time, just panicked expressions.

"Pops-!! I got it!"

Magnus' words are forgotten momentarily, as the inspector springs forward, teary eyed as he shakes out two pills and rushes back.

"Take these...! Please!" He begs, and helps them tilt their head back. "Easy, now, that's the way..." He's strong for them as he helps administer the medicine.

They smile weakly, as they lean into the hand under their head. "Th.. thank you..." Glassy eyes look around the room, and they sigh in relief as they pass out finally, less anxious and in much less pain as sleep takes them.

Zenigata nearly has a conniption. "-!!! Stone?! Stone, no!!!"

"Easy, Pops! You'll wake 'em up!" Jigen gently rests a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. The inspector blinks, looking confused.

"Bwuh?"

"One of the ingredients in here is melatonin, Pops! They need rest before the meds get into their system. They'll be okay." Lupin gives him a reassuring smile.

He takes a moment to process, and then nods resolutely, pulling up a chair beside his bed and just... waiting.

"... you gonna wait there all night, huh?" Fujiko asks, smiling a bit as she saunters up.

"Of course I am! He's my partner! I'm not gonna let them sit through this alone!" He exclaims, steadfast in his decision.

The femme fatale laughs a little, grinning. "Wow... you've got it worse than I thought! I've only seen you act like this when you think one of us is dead!"

Despite his tears, Zenigata's face turns bright crimson."Wh- hey!!! What's that supposed to mean?!"

Lupin puts a finger to his lips, shushing him with a grin. "Shhh, don't wanna wake up the sleeping angel! We left the rest of the antidote with your boss man downstairs, and they've given us a 24 hour amnesty in return! So long, Pops!" And with that, the gang takes their leave.

He sighs, almost going after them, but...

Stopping when he sees them sleeping so soundly. He has to wait.

He would always wait for him, he thinks, much to his own surprise.

- - -

It's dawn by the time Stone stirs again, Zenigata having been asleep for only a little while now. He'd stayed up all night watching over them, and when the sound of rustling blankets shifts against their body, he gasps and jolts awake again.

"BWUH!!! Huh-?" The inspector blinks, and then breaks into a massive grin when Stone sits up, looking nowhere near as pained anymore.

"Ugh.. God, my head... it worked, I think, but my head hurts something fi-" Stone pauses when they see the inspector's eyes brimming with tears. "Zenigata-?"

"MAGNUS-!!!" He yelps, not caring who might hear, as he leaps forward and practically bowls them over in a big hug.

He bawls, head buried in his chest as he shakes and mutters over and over again, "You're alive, you're alive-!!! Lupin did it, you're alive!!!"

Stone looks surprised for a moment, still weak, but much less in pain. Then... his expression melts into softness, and they wrap his arms around Zenigata's back. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay...!" They smile right back, as he looks up with big, watery eyes and a wobbly smile.

"I don't know what I woulda done if you...!!!" He mutters, holding their gaze before hugging them again.

Stone smiles right back, gently helping to wipe away his partner in crime catching's tears. "Hey... hey, easy, I'm okay...! I'm okay..."

"I promise it won't happen again! I'll always protect you, okay?" Zenigata swears, giving them a squeeze. They wheeze a little, and he eases up.

"Yeah... I'm j-just glad I'm alive." Stone curls into him, and together... They stay like that for a long, long while. They don't wanna let go.

So, neither of them do.

Stone's unsaid words in the haze of near death are forgotten, at least for now. But as Lupin smiles and watches the two curled up together in relief through the window, he knows it's not long now.

Once those two got together, it was just a matter of asking them into the gang...

And then they could all finally have a happy ending. One where this was all just a bad dream. One where Zenigata was treated fairly, and Stone could be with him without worrying too much about being the only one who truly believed in ol' Pops.

Once they got together, the plan would be set into action. Lupin grins at that.

Now, if only those two would stop dancing around the damn subject.

[hunflowers]

Femme Fatale

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested? Nope, but you always can here :)

Mood Board

A/N: I hope you enjoy my rendition of mafia!Harry bc I lowkey do not. Enjoy the smut and maybe leave some feedback when you’re done! *nose boops*

part 2 :)

The rivalry went back decades.

Growing up, they had no choice but to hate each other. It was practically in their blood because that’s how their ancestors were towards one another.

Besides, they tried the whole friendship thing when they were children, and it didn’t even work out then. Simply at first because their families forbade it. But they soon realized how annoying the other was as the years went on. And how badly they wish they could just strangle one another because that would be easier than ever becoming friendly.

It all started with their great-grandfathers, as most old rivalry stories do. They once worked in unison, in harmony as coworkers, cofounders, and friends. Once poor, they rose to the top as a team. But, when money started to become more prevalent, so did the truth of their relationship. They both wanted seniority, to run the business as a King rather than as a team. So, when heads were clashing and neither of them could bring themselves to kill the other, they did the only thing left, and split the business.

And from that point on, peace no longer existed.

Not only did the two men hate each other, but all of their workers started to hate the opposing side. No one thought there could be two leading imports in the city, because the city just wasn’t big enough for both egos. But even though chaos ensued ever since the split, people could say peace was also created. Because everyone was afraid to start a war they couldn’t finish. So, even though there were the casual breakouts and fights, nothing too major ever happened to the point where the city would practically cave in.

Except for now that is. Because Harry and Y/N hated each other that much. Everyone was afraid the other would snap soon and that could only lead to destruction.

Of course, the pair like to think they have it under control, but in reality, one wrong word spoken and the other is as good as dead.

People wondered who the Hell left them in charge because they were some of the most hot headed people to have ever walked this planet. But, in reality they really weren’t left a choice but to run the companies.

Harry’s father was never too into the whole business. Yeah, he got the job done but it wasn’t his first choice career wise. And seeing as he was an only child, he was left no choice but to stay in charge until Harry was ready. And the second he saw that Harry was mature enough for this responsibility, he immediately passed the throne down to him, thankful to have that weight off his shoulders.

As for Y/N, her father wanted her to have nothing to do with the business because it wasn’t a woman’s responsibility. He was thinking of handing the leadership down to his nephew, because he had always looked up to Y/N’s dad and had dreamed of being in charge one day. Of course, she found the whole ordeal ridiculous because the job was meant for her, and no one else.

Y/N was the eldest of her siblings, neither of them being boys. So, when the time would come the company had no choice but to fall in her hands. And even though the time came a lot quicker than she anticipated, she was beyond ready to take on the responsibility. Just a few days past her twenty-first birthday, Y/N’s father had died of a heart attack that was completely unwarranted. He took excellent care of his health, so to say it was a surprise was an understatement. But, even though the company sprung up on her, she prepared most of her life to be in charge and she wasn’t going to let her father down.

Despite Harry’s many attempts to prove her wrong and that she’d be a failure at running things, she would actually prove him wrong time and time again because products exported smoothly and income imported even smoother. And what she makes in a week is generally what he makes every month.

So, she’s doing pretty good she thinks.

But they did try to be friends once. When they were eleven, they shared a few of the same friends so their paths always crossed. So they decided they wouldn't be hostile towards one another because that was the rest of their family, not them. Fast forward to the age of twelve, and Harry and Y/N nearly get in a fist fight due to Harry hurting Y/N’s best friend, and Y/N doing the same to his.

Clearly, history would repeat itself and thus the two joined their families in hating the other.

That led them to where they are now, thirteen years later, and still a lot of hatred in the air.

Albeit, there was the rare occurrence of sexual tension in the air too but they choose not to dwell on that.

It was a one night thing. They were both completely plastered, and they hardly even remember it happening. Of course they tell different stories of that night, and it actually drew them farther apart, but again, they choose to not think about it at all.

It was only a one time thing.

But today. . . today really solidified their ongoing rivalry. Y/N was awoken this morning by the loud shrill of her ringtone blasting in her dark bedroom. She was tempted to not answer it because everyone knew not to call her so early in the morning, but then again, everyone knew not to call her so early in the morning so it must only be an emergency.

And it was the news on the other line that broke her heart and had Y/N flying out of her bed faster than light travelled. Earlier that morning, her youngest sister, Serena, was found in the bathroom of the local club, knocked unconscious whilst her clothes were nearly ripped to shreds. She had been drugged, raped, and stripped of her dignity and Y/N felt responsible. This ache in her chest was prominent because she felt it was her fault for some reason.

After their father’s passing, Serena had gone off the rails for a little while. She took it especially hard because even though all three of his daughters were his babies, Serena being the youngest was his special baby, and she found it very difficult to cope with the loss. So, when Serena did a little too much of experimenting with drugs or drinking, Y/N knew taking care of her baby sister was her main priority.

Hearing the news that her sister had been violated, Y/N couldn’t help but take it to heart. She hardly cared about the outfit she was wearing or what state her hair was in when she arrived at the hospital, all she wanted was to get to her sister.

When she entered her room, she was greeted by her mother and her other sister, Francesca, or Franny for short, already by her bed.

“How is she?” Y/N spoke quickly, taking in the look of her sister sleeping on the hospital bed.

Franny stood up so frantic Y/N could sit down and catch her breath after she practically ran through the hospital halls to find the room.

“She hasn’t woken up yet, but the doctor says she’s in stable condition,” her mother spoke, a shaky breath leaving her lips as she squeezes her daughter's hand.

Y/N bit her bottom lip to stop the urge to burst into tears, keeping her stone cold face in tact. “I swear, I am going to kill whoever did this. I’ll kill them myself, with my own two bare hands.”

“Y/N, please, not now,” Mom hissed. She hated that her daughter had gotten so involved in the business, and she most certainly hated that Y/N got her father’s temper. Her daughter hurting people is the last thing she wants to think about, especially while her other daughter is currently on a hospital bed.

“What, you don’t want whoever did this to pay?”

“Of course I do! By going to prison, not by my daughter’s two hands,” she glared at her eldest.

Y/N huffed, sifting back in her chair and trying to tie back her knotty hair in some sort of bun to get it out of her face before she screams. “Well, my way is a whole lot easier, and I can then guarantee whoever did gets justice served. Who knows what the legal system will do. Give ‘em three months maybe.”

“How about both of you shut your mouths, she’s waking up,” Franny spoke up, gaining the two’s attention immediately. Y/N sat forward, grabbing Serena’s right hand in her own.

The blinding light from the lamp above her head made Serena squint her eyes shut at the vivid brightness, her face distorting into in an uncomfortable grimace before she was able to open her eyes without the light hurting. She looked around at her family, confusion striking her features as she realized where she was.

“Wha– what happened?” She spoke hoarsely, her voice scratchy from probably being excessively dry.

When it was explained what had happened to her, she immediately broke down into tears, which then caused Y/N to let out her own tears. Again, that ping of guilt hitting her right in the heart.

“I know the police are going to ask you questions once they see you’re awake, but do you have any idea who did this to you? Anyone being suspicious towards you last night?” Y/N asked, keeping her voice in a hushed tone to try not to startle her sister in this fragile state.

Maybe it wasn’t the best timing for this but police would be here soon and this was Y/N’s job to find the person who did this, who hurt her family, her blood.

Serena swallowed, closing her eyes to try and remember anything from the night before. She started to shake her head because most of the night was a blur in her head but then she did remember one specific detail that was probably the most important.

Her eyes snapped open as she looked at Y/N, the realization of how important the detail is dawning on her. “He had a uh– tattoo on his arm. It was the. . . Styles emblem.”

Y/N practically shot out of her seat, fuming at just the name of Styles. She hardly left with a goodbye before she was storming out of the building and into her car. Of course it was someone from his side that had the audacity to do something like this. To step onto her side of the city, to do this to her sister.

If you know Y/N, you know her family, so whoever it was knew exactly what they were getting themselves into, and that just made Y/N even angrier. Her hands were practically itching to grab ahold of this guys neck and twist it like a rope.

She zipped her way in and out of traffic, trying to make it to her destination without any fatalities but still getting there as fast as possible. And when she did get there she hardly remembered to put the car in park and to shut it off before she was running inside and to the elevator.

She got a lot of nasty looks from everyone that saw her figure running across the lobby, and she knew why but she didn’t give the time of day to care. Because the boss herself was stepping onto the wrong territory.

When she made it to the right floor, and to the right door, she pounded her fist rapidly on the wood, urging anyone inside to open the fucking door.

And when the door finally did swing open, she was face to face with the one face she was hoping to not see anytime soon but yet at this time she couldn’t avoid him any longer.

“You better have a good reason to be knocking on my door this fucking early in the morning,” Harry spat down at the girl in front of him.

Y/N looked over his shoulder to see two people, a random guy and a girl on the couch in his office, both nearly naked. Then she looked at Harry and saw that his own clothes were disheveled as he probably haphazardly tossed them on his body to open the door.

“Really, in your office?” Y/N droned, pushing past him and into the large space and giving the two a nasty look to state get out.

“I don’t really need your fucking comments so how about you just leave?”

“No, they have to though,” she gestured to the two who were looking around the room quite uncomfortably, not exactly sure what to do with themselves in this moment.

“You don’t boss me around.”

Y/N sighed at his frustrating attitude, trying to keep her cool in front of bystanders, but it was pretty difficult when she was dealing with the most difficult man on the planet. “Harry. . .” she began, looking at him with these pleading eyes that meant something was wrong. Y/N hated looking weak, especially in front of him, but if it got him to cooperate for once, then so be it.

“It’s important business, that they have no part in.”

He looked at Y/N with a hard look, really not wanting to let his fun night come to a close all because she said so. But, he could tell from the way her eyes were the slightest shade of red and how she was still dressed in her pajamas in front of him that whatever this was must have some sort of emergent reasoning.

He looked to Dave and Michelle, the pair who were still so confused about what was happening, a sorrowful look on his face. A look Y/N never thought she would see. They got the idea, quickly scrambling for their clothes before leaving his office. Harry closed the door behind them, licking at his bottom lip before biting it and turning back around to Y/N with that stone cold face she’s grown used to.

“Well, you better get to explaining what the fuck this is all about before I lose my mind.”

Y/N took a shallow breath, running her hand through her very messy hair and speaking up, “Someone on your side hurt my sister, and I need you to find out who.”

“Hurt your sister?” He looked at her with a bored face, going to his big chair behind his desk and plopping down on it, propping his feet onto his desk and leaning back with his arms resting behind his head.

“She was drugged and raped and she says she saw your emblem on him, so, chop chop boss man and find out who the fuck was out last night.”

Shock laced his features at the r word but he soon went back to his bored look, and scoffing at the idea that one of his men would do something so vile. Serena was known to exaggerate and to lie about things ever since she first got her hands on drugs and Harry had no choice but to disbelieve the claims.

“I highly doubt it was one of my guys. Your sister has a tendency to. . . lie. Plus, if she was drugged there’s a low chance she’ll remember something as specific as my emblem but, I assume, nothing else,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrows at Y/N as if to say I win*.

Steam could practically be seen escaping Y/N’s ears as her face set into an angry frown and becoming increasingly red by the moment. Why did she think he would be considerate once? It was her mistake to think he had any ounce of a heart in his body, but even though she knew he would be difficult to work with, she was still beyond pissed at his response.

She stomped forward to the front of the desk, standing opposite him as she leaned forward and grabbed his white button-down shirt in her fist and yanking him forward so his body was in an awkward position and so his face was inches from her own. His smirk settled deeper on his face as his eyes trailed up and down her own face and her figure that was leaning over the desk. Because she never gave herself the time to change out of her pajamas, her silk camisole top revealed a lot of what was underneath to Harry; especially the lack of a bra.

Y/N could practically see the hormones flowing around in his head as he looked like he couldn’t give two shits about the way she was practically ripping his shirt off his body. She brought her other hand up and hooked it under his jaw, tilting his head up so he had no choice but to only look at her eyes.

“I figured I would ask nicely before I kill the prick myself. But there is no playing nice with you, is there Styles?” Y/N seethed, gritting out her words, pushing his body back harshly into his chair.

He laughed, genuinely laughed at the prospect of her being. . . nice. He ran his fingers through his hair, getting up from his position in his chair and walking around to meet her at the front of her desk. His slim fingers took the strap of her camisole, gently rolling it in his fingers before bringing it up and snapping it back down on her skin. “Not when you’re dressed like this, love.” Y/N pushed his hand off her body, standing up straighter in her spot and giving him the nastiest glare she could muster.

“Fine, but don’t be alarmed when you get the news someone died,” she stated, walking back over to the direction of his office door.

“You won’t be killing anyone, Y/N. And if you do, you leave me no choice but to kill one of yours,” he called out as she began to walk down the hall.

She stopped in her tracks, turning around to face him, to see that he was leaning against the doorway of the room, arms crossed in front of his chest. Y/N laughed at his proposition, looking down at her feet, stepping back in his direction with the tiniest foot forward.

“I think whoever raping my sister and then me killing them justifies this whole, eye for an eye thing, don’t ya think?” She hummed, giving him her final deadpan glare before, again, walking away from him and beginning her business for the day.

❊ ❊

A few days went by.

Y/N was closer to finding the guy, but it seems finding someone with a specific emblem tattooed on them proves to be quite difficult when a lot of guys have that same emblem tattooed on them in the exact same spot.

Cameras in the club did little to nothing to help her in the case, seeing as the place is dark, and that it’s sort of illegal to have surveillance in the bathroom. But her team was working hard and the more she didn’t have the guy in her hands, the more angry she became, and the more determined she was to freaking find him.

“All I’m saying is if you drop to your knees, he’ll be more willing to help you,” Y/N’s best friend Flo shrugged, taking a sip from her water as she leaned back in the chair.

“And I don’t need his help, he’s proven to be useless countless times.”

“Then why ask in the first place? Remind me again, because I’m a little lost.”

Y/N turned her head away from her laptop screen, looking at Flo with a bored look, sighing as she closed her laptop to give her friend her undivided attention. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

“Yeah, like how I think this whole ‘Oh, I hate Harry,’ thing is bullshit. Why go to him if you know he won’t help?” Flo questioned, leaning forward with her arms resting on the mahogany desk.

“Maybe he grew some human decency since the last time I saw him?”

Flo squinted her eyes at her best friend, not exactly accepting that as an answer. It was for one pretty vague, and Flo knew her friend a bit better than that. There was something she wasn’t telling her, and she’d be damned if she left this room not knowing.

“Hm,” Flo hummed, sitting back against the leather chair, then taking another dramatic sip of her water. Y/N gave her a look of distaste as if to ask, is there a problem?

“And, when was the last time you saw him?”

Two weeks ago.

For that. . . thing they don’t talk about.

From what Flo knows, last time Y/N saw Harry was to discuss business settlements six months prior. So, if there’s no business that needs to be handled, there would be no reason for Y/N to see Harry, right? That’s a secret Y/N so desperately wants to keep. She’s ashamed of the night. Beyond words she’s ashamed and it’s only because she gave into temptation.

For a long time, she had Flo telling her that she should let go of this family feud because how could Y/N miss out on an opportunity to be with someone as handsome as Harry? As powerful as Harry? If they were together, there would be absolutely nothing stopping them, because not only were they good at what they do, but so many people respected them that the city would have no choice but to accept that they’re a couple.

But, that went against decades upon decades of family rivalry. The two would be damned if they were the reason this, basically family tradition, came to an end.

So, Y/N had no choice but to lie to her best friend, to avoid life as she knows it spiralling out of control.

She pondered in fake wonder for a moment before answering, “I think a little over six months ago.”

Flo nodded her head in understandment, taking in Y/N’s words but not exactly believing them. There’s a reason Y/N and Flo are best friends, and it’s because the two are very much alike. They’re sarcastic, they’re funny, they’re smart, they take their job seriously, and so many more reasons beyond that. But one defining reason is that they both understand the other so well. They can see right through each other. So for Y/N to think Flo doesn’t know she’s lying, is quite offensive to Flo.

Y/N tried to not break eye contact when she was talking, but she did, and that was the main giveaway that she was lying, even if she only looked away for a brief second. Flo had her down pat, much to Y/N’s demise.

And Flo wasn’t going to sit here and not call her out on it.

“Okay, and now I want the truth.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, and she pursed her lips whilst shaking her head, “I don’t know what-”

“The. Truth. Y/N.”

“That was-”

“Now.”

Y/N huffed, looking down to her hands that she now placed in her lap. Under her friend’s hard gaze, Y/N’s face began to heat up with the embarrassment running through her veins. There really shouldn’t be any reason to be embarrassed about this, but she is. She hates that it happened, but more importantly she hates how she caved to him.

Glancing back up for a moment, Y/N bit her lip softly, feeling exceptionally small as her friend continued to wait for an answer. Taking a deep breath, Y/N sat up straighter in her chair, finally speaking the truth, “Two weeks ago.”

And now it was Flo’s turn to raise her eyebrows, jaw dropping practically down to the floor.

Then Y/N got to explaining.

❊ ❊

It was a Thursday night. Not even the weekend. Y/N had found herself in Central City, which is basically what everyone within the two groups calls the place on the border that separates the sides. She was just outside of Central City, dealing with a few of her loyal dealers all day, and in Central City is one of her favorite bars, so after a long day of working, she wanted to treat herself to a few casual drinks. Plus, she has a small crush on one of the bartenders there, so she figured that night she just may get lucky.

Little did she know, Harry had been just outside of Central City all day too, dealing with a group of rogues who thought they could steal from him and get away with it. They didn’t. So, after an exhausting day of interrogation and torture, Harry needed a drink. And what better place than his favorite bar in Central City?

She was there first, chatting up with Ben the bartender. She was laughing, drinking, listening to the horrible singer up at karaoke; just having an amazing time. Everyone knew who she was but they were all too drunk to worry about anything so they went on about their nights as if the Queen of half their city wasn’t in their presence.

But then everyone went silent, and the only thing that could be heard was Y/N’s laugh as Ben says something ridiculously funny. When she noticed everyone had gone quiet, she looked around the room to look for why no one was talking. It was quite eerie that one second everyone was having the time of their life to now everyone looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Then her eyes met his, and she nearly dropped the glass in her hand.

But she wasn’t going to leave just because he showed up. It was her favorite bar. And he felt exactly the same way because it was his favorite bar.

About fifteen seconds of awkward silence and intense staring went down before the two got fed up with all of the eyes focused on them.

“What’re you all looking at?” They snapped in unison. Quickly everyone went back to what they were doing, trying not to worry about a fight breaking out or a screaming match going down. And their worry soon started to dissolve as all the women began to fantasize about Harry and all the men wish they were worthy of being with Y/N.

Unfortunately for the two, the only seat left available in the place was the one on the right of Y/N at the bar. And when Harry sauntered over, going to sit down on the stool, Y/N was quick to stop him claiming she was saving the seat. He looked at her blankly, knowing fully well no one was going to sit there. He swatted her hand away, sitting down on the wood with a plush seat, quickly ordering himself a drink.

They tried not to converse throughout the night no matter how badly they wanted to snap at one another. But the more they thought about yelling, the more they drank, and the more they drank, the more willing they were to talk to each other.

That’s how their night progressed. By the end of it, they somehow came across the topic of sex. And how neither of them had gotten any in what felt like forever. In reality it actually hadn’t been long at all for either of them, but they tended to be dramatic, plus they were teetering on the tipsy-drunk mindset.

“Worst part is, he left his socks on! Fucking socks! It’s one thing to last thirty seconds, but to leave your socks on? Nearly killed the guy,” Y/N grimaced, recalling the event from last week.

Harry was having a hard time keeping in his laughs and judgements, but Y/N was okay with it because that was the whole point of telling the story in the first place. “Okay, you win this time, that is worse.”

“This time? I always win, Styles.” Y/N was practically gloating as she finished off the rest of her martini. He rolled his eyes at her words, shaking his head in response.

And no one could really predict the future events unfolding. It was quite out of the ordinary, and Y/N hardly knew what she was doing until after she had done it.

This thought dawned her hazy mind, and then she was placing her hand on his shoulder and looking at him with this lust and admiration she never thought she had inside of her. The moment he felt her hand on his shoulder, he looked at her quickly and nearly crumbled at the way she was looking at him.

If no one were in this bar with them, he wouldn’t hesitate to take her right then and there, but alas people were all around them. So, he had to keep it in his pants for just a little longer.

He leaned closer to her, taking in the scent of her heavenly perfume as she breathed in his ravishing cologne. They were so close, their lips barely grazed over each other’s, the tips of their noses brushing together softly as if it never really happened.

“What’s on your mind?” He wondered, his right hand coming down on her thigh, awfully close to her now aching center.

They were positive people were most likely watching them like hawks and that news of this just might spread around very fast by tomorrow morning. But, they just didn’t care. Y/N placed her hand on top of his, slowly dragging it even further up her thigh, so his fingertips just reached her dampening underwear.

His lips parted at the feeling, his eyes widening in awe as he stretched his fingers to again barely touch her where she really wanted him. She almost moaned at the feeling but kept the noises inside, not wanting to bring anymore attention towards them.

He laced her hand that was on his shoulder in his hair, softly tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck. She brought her wet lips up to his ear, whispering, “To see what it’s like for you. . . to win.”

He looked at her with an open-mouthed smirk, tongue poking the inside of his cheek before he hastily stood up and placed a few bills down on the bar to pay for their drinks. Y/N grabbed her purse, making her way to the door, Harry following behind her.

When they finally arrived to his place, stepping in the threshold of the foyer, all barriers fell down and all morals left their minds. Their lips were locked in a feverish kiss as he had her pinned up against the cool wooden surface of his door. Her legs were hiked up to wrap around his hips, high heels abandoned on the floor as she pressed the heels of her foot onto his ass, pushing his front harder on her core, creating some sort of friction between them.

He broke apart their lips, tangling his fingers in her hair as he tugged her head to one side to open up the view of her neck that he wanted so desperately to mark up. The second he bit down on her skin and licked the area, and peppered kisses up and down her throat, Y/N let out a moan she couldn’t suppress anymore. And then Harry smirked against her skin.

“It’s so ironic,” he started, grinding his hips harder into her as he brought his head up to look her in the eyes. “Out there, you’ve got people at your feet, looking up to you like an actual queen, not afraid to kill me at any given moment. But in here. . . I’ve got you writhing beneath my touch, just itching to be touched down here.”

And then he cupped her cunt, fingers petting her damp thong, having her mewl at the small but impactful contact. She wished he would just shut up and just fuck her already, but she could tell he was having fun with this; her being so complacent and not fighting him and instead agreeing that she was in fact desperate for him to touch her.

He pushed her skirt up her hips, getting better access to her pretty pussy, pushing aside her thong, gathering up her slickness onto his fingers. He brought his fingers up to his face, admiring the shine before wrapping his lips around them. If Y/N was standing, her knees surely would’ve gave out from under her at the sight. And she couldn’t help but get ever wetter as he sucked the digits, pulling them out with a pop.

“Sweet. . . like honey,” he grinned before reattaching their lips quickly. He brought his hands down onto her ass, gripping tightly before removing them from the door. Although they didn’t get very far and ended up on the comfy living room couch. There was no way they could handle stairs in their state, so the couch was good enough.

Really classy.

As soon as her back touched the soft surface, Harry was ripping her skirt and panty down her legs, and harshly tugged open her shirt that a few bottoms came right out of the seams. And if Y/N wasn’t drunk on alcohol and lust, she’d be beyond pissed.

But she really wasn’t one to talk, because she also ripped open his shirt, albeit not as rough but she’s pretty sure she ripped off one of his buttons too. Within a matter of seconds, the two were completely naked and beyond excited for what was to come. Literally.

Harry littered kisses up and down her body, mouth lingering longer on her aroused nipples, whilst he sank one then two fingers into her dripping hole. Y/N let out a breathy moan, lifting her lips up off the couch to push his fingers deeper inside of her.

“You’re so tight, Darling, and it’s just my fingers.”

He locked their lips in another passionate kiss as he pumped his fingers faster into her heat, gaining a few more moans out of that precious little mouth of hers. He hovered his lips over hers, speaking his next works huskily and softly that sent shivers down her spine, and made her pussy throb.

“Imagine me burying my cock into you. You squeezing me as I thrust into you, over and over again. Your warm walls holding onto me as I pound into you, absolutely wrecking you. Can you imagine it?”

Before she could say a single word, his thumb began working fast circles on her clit just as he continuously started to hit that special spot inside of her that had her seeing stars. The string of moans she let out could really put a pornstar to shame, and he didn’t even have his dick in her yet.

Was it embarrassing for her to be this much of a mess just from a simple fingering? Yes. But, just like the rest of the night, she lost the will to care.

“H-. . . Harry, please,” she whined as he switched the pace of his fingers to a slower rate, trying to prolong her orgasm for as long as he could.

He simply shook his head, denying her any satisfaction. Because as much as she was in charge out there, he was in charge here and he wouldn’t let her get what she wants so quickly.

Instead, he wanted to rile her up even more. With his free hand he brought it up to her breast, groping it roughly and then pinching her nipple between his thumb and first finger. And then he got an idea as he looked at the hickey that was starting to form on the side of her neck. He slowly trailed his fingers further up her chest, her collarbones, and eventually landing on the soft skin of her throat. He gently wrapped his hand around her throat to see what kind of reaction he could get out of her, and much to his surprise, her small hand wrapped around his wrist to, instead of pushing his hand away, push harder on her throat.

And if he wasn’t turned on then, he for fucking sure is now.

She loved the way his big hand was wrapped around her throat easily as if it had the smallest circumference. She loved the way it made it just the tiniest bit more difficult to breathe while he continued to ram her pussy with his fingers. And he loved just how much she loved it. “You naughty fucking girl. You like my hand around your neck don’t you? Does it turn you on?”

Y/N didn’t want to say anything, because as much as she was this confident woman, this moment was far too embarrassing, even for her. But, frustrated with no response, Harry pressed down more, using a deeper voice to elicit a response out of her.

“Answer me, Princess. I won’t continue if you don’t use your words,” he tsked, again slowing down his rhythm. Y/N groaned as his fingers practically came to a halt, bucking her hips up to continue the euphoric feeling inside of her.

“Plea–”

“Not until I get an answer.”

Y/N huffed, opening her eyes to look into his boring down on her. She bit her lip softly before nodding her head gently to respond to his previous questions.

“Uh-uh, I want words, Y/N. You love to talk, so c’mon, tell me.”

Groaning again, Y/N turned her head to the side to break eye contact. All she wanted was an orgasm, and she knew that within the next minute she was bound to burst and she hated that he was stopping her from reaching it. She took a breath and mustered up the courage to finally agree with his words, that yes it turned her on immensely.

“Y-yes. . . it turns me on,” she whispered. With that he smirked and removed his hand from her heat, making Y/N whimper at the loss of contact. But he couldn’t take it anymore, his erection becoming too unbearable that he had to ease his pain sooner rather than later.

Reaching down to his wallet to pull the condom out that he had stuffed in there a few nights ago, because he couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs to get his stash, he hastily ripped open the foil, careful not to rip the condom itself, and quickly rolled it onto his throbbing length.

He first pushed the tip in, giving her a few moments to adjust to his girth. Y/N completely lost it as he pushed further and further inside of her, back arching off the plush cushion as she cursed at the feeling of him stretching her. She widened the space of her legs, absolutely losing her mind as Harry’s face buried into her neck, the vibrations of his moans and groans shaking her body.

When he finally stopped, Y/N was quick to look down to see his cock was gone and deep inside of her body. She never felt so full in her life and she didn’t know how she was going to take him moving. The stretch came with a subtle burn that brought tears to her eyes. All good, of course.

“Harry, please move,” she begged, scraping her nails down toned back.

“Are you sure?”

“Fucking move.”

Then he slowly inched his length out before snapping his hips back against hers.

It was crazy that they were doing this.

Never in a million years did they think they would be having sex, each other’s names flowing out of their mouths so easily as their moans filled the air. The thought was always taboo for them but just this once they accepted their fates, and God, did it feel good.

It felt so good.

❊ ❊

When Y/N was finished explaining what had happened that one night two weeks ago – of course without the intense details – Flo sat with a smirk adorning her features.

Her eyes glowed, knowing she was right. She just knew this sort of thing was bound to happen. Next step, they were going to admit their undying love for each other and Flo couldn’t wait to get that news.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Y/N scolded.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” she shrugged. “. . So when’s the wedding?”

“Florence James!”

“Hey, I’m just dealing with the cards I’ve been dealt,” she raised her hands in defense.

“Can we just forget about him and get back to more important matters, like who assaulted my sister?”

Before Flo could respond, a knock sounded on the door to Y/N’s office. Yelling a quick come in, Y/N was quick to flip off her friend before whoever walked into the room.

Looking over her shoulder, Flo let out a laugh before getting up from her chair and then returning the hand gesture to Y/N. “Speak of the Devil,” she called as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Harry stepped into Y/N’s office, that annoying smirk ever so permanent on his features.

“Speaking about me, Princess?”

“You have two seconds to explain why you’re here before I stab you in the throat.”

“Relax,” he dragged out, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of the chair Flo was just sitting on before sitting himself down on it. “I come with good news.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, interested in what he could be talking about. She didn’t bother asking what good news, instead just waited for him to continue with whatever it was he had to say.

“You don’t have to worry about Jack anymore – Uh, the guy who. . . y’know, with Serena.”

To say Y/N was taken aback would be an understatement. She was so shocked that she had him repeat himself and explain what the fuck that was supposed to even mean.

“Look, I know I was harsh the other day. But when you left I got to thinking and. . . I know I would do anything I could if somebody hurt someone in my family. So, I got to asking around, turns out it was this guy Jack I had just fired and now you don’t have to worry about him,” he elaborated, clasping his hands together on his lap.

Y/N’s mind was in a whirlwind at this information, trying to process everything he just told her. It wasn’t a lot to take in but, it’s because he willingly helped her that had her in such a confused state. He had never done anything like this before and she was sure he wouldn’t do anything like it ever again.

But then she smiled. Genuinely smiled. Because he helped her. There’s no way she was going to let this one go. However, before she could gloat, she asked one very important question, “Is he alive?”

Harry gave her a knowing look, as if to say she should know him better than that.

Then she smiled again, even bigger than before. Because he killed someone for her and that – in their world – was the biggest sign of affection someone could give, because it meant that that someone meant something special.

“Fuck off with that smile,” he grumbled.

Y/N then stood up from her chair and walked over to him, standing in front of his seated figure, bringing her hand up to caress his jaw. “However could I repay you, Mr. Styles?”

It was then his turn to smile at her as he placed his hands on the back of her thighs and brought her to sit down on his lap.

“I can think of a few ways.”

And they were kissing like they never had before. This time they were so sober, it felt too real.

But they didn’t mind too much, because this moment felt like the start of something new.

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 56 - Secrets, mix tapes and jealousy

In the previous chapter: the special date set up by Angie turned out to be a disaster for her and it's coming to a even worse end, since Eddie doesn't seem interested into having sex with her. In the end though, they both manage to open up and talk about their feelings and insecurities and they make love for the first time. Despite all that, Angie's still firm on her decision not to tell anything to their friends. We find it out when the couple joins Jeff, Stone, Grace, McCready and Cornell at their usual go-to pub. Jeff sees them getting there together by car but entering the place in different moments to avoid suspects. From his thoughts about the matter, we find out that Jeff actually caught the two exchanging affectionate effusions a few days earlier, when Angie had brought a cake for him and Eddie before a show. At that time, Jeff preferred to silently and secretely leave before they could see him, so that they wouldn't be embarrassed. Thanks to his friends's advice, Jeff can finally put together a bunch of titles for the fake demo tape by Cliff Poncier, the main character of Cameron Crowe's movie, and then challenges Chris to actually write those songs.

**

“Did she knock him out?”

“Yeah, he went down like a sack of potatoes. And it was a pretty big sack” Angie lets go of my hand for a moment, just the time to mimic the body size of the guy, then takes it again, as we walk to her car.

“With a punch?”

“Actually, two”

“Given what he said to you, I'd have given him more” drunk or not, if you touch a woman you're crap, and if I run into you you're dead.

“You'd have beaten a dead horse, well, a dead sack of potatoes”

“Nuh, you're right: too little satisfaction. Anyway, hats off to Meg, cool girl”

“Yep... and to think that at the beginning I thought she was a vapid Barbie”

“What? You? Having prejudices about someone? It can't be!” I have fun picking on her. When I expressed very similar opinions about Violet she made me feel like shit.

“Hehe yeah, I confess, I made a mistake too, I'm human after all. Anyway, that's how we became friends and everything started”

“That's the perfect example of how something good can come out of a bad story too”

“See, so that guy deserves some credit too after all” as soon as we get to her Mini, Angie takes my other hand too and leans back against the back of the car, pulling me closer.

“Fucking credit. It happend ages ago and I wasn't even there and my hands are hitching to hit him good” it looks like taking me out to dinner to a Thai restaurant in the university district makes her feel safe enough from being possibly seen by our friends.

“Don't be upset” she tries and calm me with a kiss and I'd say it works great. But she doesn't need to know.

“Uhm... I'm still a little upset” I tell her after making a stupid scene, licking my lips and clicking my tongue as if I was trying to taste the kiss, just like a weird sommelier does after a sip of wine.

“Hahaha come on, let's go” she gives me another peck and opens the door, as I walk around the car to get to the passenger seat.

“Angie, I'm the last person who can give lectures about Seattle's street map, but weren't we supposed to turn left?” I ask her after our turn at the second crossroad.

“Oh... 'cause... you wanna go back home, right?” she's reaching for something in the glove box with her hand but freezes, as if I had caught her doing something wrong and I can notice her suddenly saddened eyesin the dark too.

“No, I mean, not necessarily”

“'Cause I thought it's still early and...” she puts both her hands back on the wheel and shrugs her shoulders at the same time.

“It's early indeed” it's always too early for me when it's time to say good night.

“I thought... well... we could hang out a little, go for a drive”

“Ok”

“But I can take you home if you want”

“No, I don't wanna go home”

“I didn't even ask you if you're busy tomorrow morning”

“I don't have shit to do tomorrow morning, Angie”

“Maybe you're tired”

“I'm not tired”

“I'll take a U turn as soon as I can”

“Angie?” I take her right hand from the wheel and kiss it.

“Yeah?”

“Take me for a ride”

“Ok”

“Where are you taking me?” I ask her as I let go of her hand and this time she opens the glove compartment and takes out a caseless cassette, putting it into the car player right away.

“To some place... you'll see” she smiles as Jim Morrison starts to sing.

Yeah, I'm a back door man

I'm a back door man

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

“Do we have a long way to go?” I ask a while later, as Brian Ferry's just admitted Love is the drug he prefers and we take Greenwood Avenue.

“No, we're almost there”

“Almost... can you be more specific?” I like to tease her and see her faces.

“Less than ten minutes and we're there. Are you getting bored?”

“Never, with you”

“So why are you so impatient?”

“I'm not impatient, I only wanna know if this place you want to take me to is within the borders of the United States or not. 'Cause if you, by any chance, are taking me to Canada, so our friends don't catch us, I warn you I didn't bring my passport”

“Ha ha” Angie gives me a nasty look, then her hand happens to land on my knee, which she gently squeeze.

“We're not crossing boundaries then”

“No, we're not”

“Where are we going then?”

“You'll see, soon”

She turns left at the next crossroad, then left again and the trees become thicker.

“I already know anyway: you're taking me to a park”

“Maybe” she lets go of the wheel and put her hands up wide open as to say who knows.

“No! You're taking me to the beach” I correct myself when, after a short while, the road goes downhill, plants thin out and I can see the horizon better.

“One thing does not exclude the other”

“I love watching you drive manual, you know?” I tell her, completely dropping the subject, lost in her driving movements.

“Haha my father taught me when I was twelve. And you?”

“Actually, I can't drive manual”

“No?? Really? You can't drive with a clutch?” she lookes at me shocked for a moment as she drives gently through the curves of the basically desert road.

“Hehe for real, I swear, I never tried”

“I'll teach you!”

“Thank you. I bet you're a good teacher”

“Good but strict”

“That's just perfect”

A yellow sign indicates a dead end street and that's when I figure out we've got to our destination. Angie turns into a rather narrow road on the left, then stops at some kind of natural open space, a clearing among the trees, with the front end of the car facing the wide free view of the ocean.

“Wow”

“From the upper parking lot the view is better but here it's quieter” she remarks as she turns off the car.

“I see” I look around and we're actually well hidden from the houses along the coastline.

“Do you like it?” she questions as she unwraps her scarf and throws it on the back seat. And from the speakers the Stones fade out and Nico's both smooth and scratchy voice comes in.

Here she comes, you better watch your step

She's going to break your heart in two

I have very little to watch out for by now. I'm in too deep and my heart is hers. It's not broken but she can do whatever she wants with it, even though she doesn't have false colored eyes and she's not an evil femme fatale like the one in the song.

“Yes, I like it here...” she can be a little tease though, with that smile of hers that... wait a minute “Angie?”

“Yes” she replies as she unbuttons her coat.

“I have this small sudden nagging question”

“Hehe that is?”

“Did you take me here to fuck?”

“EDDIE!”

“Fuck in a Mini Cooper?”

“HAHAHA”

“Why are you laughing? I only asked a question” actually I'm having such fun too but in subtler way.

“You just really don't know how to beat around the bush, right?”

“No, you should know by now... so?”

“So, I took you here so we could stay here, together, alone, and chill”

“That is, fucking”

“Not just that!”

“But also that”

“Well... if you want to, yes” she admits and I can see her blushing in the dark. This thing about initiatives is getting out of our hands. I'm not complaining though.

“I want to. But to do that, we could have gone to my apartment. I mean, it'd have been even better”

“Uhm not sure about that” she shakes her head not convinced.

“Both for the temperature and for the comfort”

“You're forgetting a small detail”

“What?”

“A not so small detail, who lives with you and his name is Jeff”

“Jeff knows when it's time to mind his own business, he's a smart guy”

“Too smart, that's the problem”

“Umph...”

“And you don't have such a view at your place” she retorts pointing through the windscreen.

“Whatever the place, the view is always spectacular when you're there”

“So basically you're telling me you wanna go back home” she looks down and plays dumb because she'd rather die than take a compliment.

“No, I wanna stay here and enjoy the view from up close” I hug her and my hands slip under her coat, pulling her closer for a kiss. The first one of a long series.

“So, did you like this... initiative?” she asks pulling back from my lips and still playing with my hair.

“Hehe yes, I liked it a lot. I'd just like to know how everything's gonna happen... from a, you know... technically”

“Just use some imagination”

“Next time you wanna have car sex, tell me first and I'll take my truck”

“Hahaha it's not that larger than this inside, you know?”

“But it has a bed, you know, in the back”

“Hahaha very comfortable and most of all very private”

“It depends on where you go...”

“Oh my god, you had sex in the truck bed??” Angie pulls away from me and looks at me as if she saw a ghost.

“A couple of times, yes”

“Fo the pleasure of the pervs and the voyeurs”

“I first made sure nobody was around”

“You're such a showoff!”

“There was nobody around, you asshole”

“Hehe there's nobody around here either”

“Right”

We looked at each other for a second, stop laughing and basically throw at each other at the same time. Angie shrugs off her coat and somehow flings it to the back, then climbs over me and straddles my legs. All this keeping her lips stuck to mine.

“Recline the back rest a little” she whispers into my ear.

“Like this?” I barely touch a side lever and find myself in a completely lying position in a second.

“Haha a little less than that, here, like this. Maybe try and go back a little too” Angie helps pulling me up a bit, then reaches for another toggle, under my seat I guess, and pushes it back, so that she wins some more vital space.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, don't worry”

“Are you sure? You've got one knee against the door and another on the seatbelt attachment”

“I've never been more comfortable” if I don't like beating around the bush when I speak, Angie is the one who doesn't waste any time with actions., 'cause she's already trying to unzip my pants. She makes it and it only takes her a few seconds to make me go completely nuts. Then she pulls away all of a sudden and sits back on the driver seat.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Wait, I just have to remove... some obstacles” I see her unlacing her shoes, fidgeting with her jeans , and I guess with her panties too, before straddling me again. I pull everything down too in the meantime to make the whole dynamic easier. I don't pay attention to the fact I haven't seen her launch anything else towards the back seat and only when I touch her I realize she's still wearing one leg of her pants.

“You do things halfway” I smile against her lips.

“What if we have to get dressed quickly?”

“You thought about everything, didn't you?”

“You know I'm a neat person”

“Uhm I can see that. The tape too...”

“Which tape?”

“The sex mix tape we've been listening to since we left the restaurant”

“What?!” Angie springs up, I don't know if it's for my remark or for the way I'm touching her.

“Don't even try to pretend it's not a car sex compilation”

“It's not!”

“Tim Buckley has just said he wants to be your victim of love” and I relate to him a lot.

“It's a mix... kind of romantic maybe... that's just how it turned out”

“It's such a romantic mix that he asked you to whip him and spank him straight away”

“Have you ever heard about metaphors? And you even write songs”

“Metaphors. Sure. So when Eric Clapton talks about making love against the wall, is it some metaphor too? And I won't say what comes later in the song, that's even worse, 'cause I'm sure you already know” I unbutton her sweater and her shirt together, while she shrugs and tries to play dumb.

“It's just a great song”

“They're all great” I hold her and manage to pull her back over me.

“I don't wanna listen to shitty music when I drive” she states before taking my breath away with a kiss.

“Or whenever you sneak off with your boyfriend” I immediately give her a taste of the same medicine

“I'm neat” she stares at me before her witty reply. By the way... this tape... did she do it for the occasion? I mean, especially for tonight or for me anyway? Or is it a ready to use mix tape she keeps in her car in case she needs it? And if that's the case, who did she use it with? Did she make that tape with someone else in her mind? But most of all, why do I have to think about this bullshit right now?

“You forgot one thing though...” I'd better focus.

“What?”

“I'm not ready to be a dad”

“Uh! No... I got them, don't worry” all her confidence disappears in one second, Angie sits up and turns around, not only to try and open the glovebox but also to hide a little hint of embarrassment.

“You're my favorite neat freak”

“Actually... ehm... you wouldn't run that risk anyway... since... you know, I'm on the pill but, I mean...” she starts stuttering and opens the box without looking at me.

“Ok”

“I'd rather keep it that way, for now, I mean, I think it's better if we use them all the same... if it's not a problem for you...”

“Angie”

“At least for now, since... well... we just... and considering what happened before...”

“ANGIE?”

“Yes?”

“I sad it's alright, stop being paranoid, ok?”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, we'll think about it later, right now it's great this way”

“Ok”

“Now come here”

“Here where? I'm already here”

“I mean, closer”

“We're in a Mini, I can't go that far”

“I'm cold and lonely down here on the passenger seat. And I want you. So come back here” I pull her close, tugging at the hems of her shirt and she gives in, either 'cause she's afraid I'll tear it up or because I convinced her with my words.

“The needy puppy look is almost more powerful than dimples” she rolls her eyes and smiles as she comes back to me.

“Really?”

“I said almost”

**

I still don't understand how can Angie have all this power over me, how can she disarm me and surprise me every time. Even a crazy stupid thing, like driving up to an unknown hidden place for some night acrobatic contortion in a small car, something I haven't done for almost ten years, becomes special with her, and not just for the act itself. Right now I'm totally enraptured by the girl whose body is over mine but not just because she's literally over me. The truth is she's over, under, inside, outside, on my shoulders, between my legs, in my head, in my blood, on my skin and all around. I make love to her in the most uncomfortable way and place but my only thought is that I want her closer, and closer, as if it was even possible. My only thought is not a thought because I can't think now, it's only an instinct, a sensation, a need, like hunger and thirst. I kiss her and through my closed eyelids I can see colors and bright dots, waves of light like electric shocks given from sudden lighting bolts. And the jolts of electricity become closer and closer together and more intense and I think I'm going crazy, 'cause I've never felt something like this. Until Angie disengages her mouth and uses it to speak.

“What the- OH FUCK”

So, I don't know if it's because of Angie, but we got each other so twisted up that we didn't notice the police car appeared who knows how long ago, from out of nowhere and parked a few yards from here with the lights on.

“Oh oh”

“OH OH? The fucking police is here and all you can say is Oh oh?” Angie comes back to reality much more quickly than me. I'm still kind of dizzy.

“What should I say? Would shit be more appropriate?”

“Yes, definitely”

“Are you getting dressed?”

“Oh of course not! I'll just stay here, waiting for the cops butt naked” Angie frantically gets dressed, whereas I do everything at a slower pace. I can say it's also easier for me.

“Don't panic too much, they may think you wanna hide something”

“Hiding something is exactly what I'm trying to do” she hurriedly pulls up her pants and starts buttoning down her sweater, ignoring the shirt underneath, and that might be on purpose or not.

The moment we hear someone knocking on the window we're both startled. Angie looks at her left, then right in front of her, then towards me and shakes her head with an imperceptible movement before wearing the most innocent expression I've ever seen on her face since I first met her.

“Good evening, officer” she addresses one of the guys who killed our fun tonight after rolling down the window on her side. From the shadow I see through my window, I can say his colleague is on my side.

“Good evening... although good night would be more appropriate, what do you think?” we got the cop who tries to be funny. Fuck.

“Well, yeah, hehe!” Angie decides to go along and I agree with her plan “How... ehm... how can I help you?”

“Uhm let me think, why don't you start by turning on the light and give me your document, miss?”

“Sure!” Angie stretches out towards the back seat and the policeman knocks lightly on the windscreen of the car with his billy club pointing at the space where the rearview mirror is, to catch her attention and let her understand she has to switch on the interior lights first. She gasps then obliges, before starting to look for her papers again.

“Keep calm” I whisper as she takes her beg and gives everything to the officer. I'd rather be the driver, I'm afraid Angie will get nervous and do something wrong. I think it's the first time the police stops her.

“Thank you, I'd like to see the ones of your... friend too... please” the guy gives me an extremely bad look and at the same time someone knocks at my window. As I turn around I see a female silhouette gesturing for me to wind it down.

“Good evening, here it is” I take out my wallet very slowly, find my driving licence and give it to the policewoman.

“Angelina W. Pacifico... Idaho, huh?”

“Yeah, I moved here a few months ago” Angie deliberately adds something as an answer to a question no one asked, trying to look willing to cooperate.

“1972. Wow, it almost seems true hahaha!” the officer waves the document in the air and laughs through gritted teeth looking at his partner.

“It seems? Of course it's true!” Angie gets upset and I go pale in a second because if she starts responding to his provocations, we'll be dead.

“If you say so... I'll check it out”

“Feel free to check, so you can see for yourself!” fucking dead.

“Why don't you also give me your registration doc, so I can check that too, miss”

“Alright! I'll give it to you immediately, then you can also frisk me, him and search my whole car, my conscience is clear!”

“Do you know you've just given me a great idea, Miss Pacifico?” the jerk laughs again and I hope Angie will soon take that angry look off her face as I see her getting out the car documents.

“26 years old. Aren't you a little too old for that girl?” the police woman asks me after she's checked my licence and I decide to keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately someone else has a different opinion.

“I AM OF AGE! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Shut up!” the officer's yell catches me off guard since it comes from my side. Apparently he has come to get my document from his colleague. After that he goes back to their car for the checking.

“Angie, don't talk, please” I hiss and hope she'll follow my advice.

“Wether you're of age or not, he's still a little older than you” the woman leans down on the car door and talks gently to Angie through the window.

“That's not a crime” she says in a lower voice and I don't even know if the officer heard her. Maybe she finally understood what the correct behaviour is.

“You're going to the University of Washington, right?” the policewoman asks. She clearly wants to chit chat to kill time and ease the tension.

“Yes, how do you know?”

“The bump sticker”

“Oh right! Yeah, I moved here for that, to go to college”

“With your family?” ok, the Good cop/Bad cop operation has officially started.

“No, by myself”

“So, you're living on your own, you've got an apartment...”

“Well, yeah”

“And you?” this time she talks to me and to do that she points her flashlight right at my face.

“I don't go to college”

“I mean, don't you have a place?”

“Sure”

“So what the hell are you doing here? In a car? Well, something that looks like a car” she goes on switching off the flashlight and using it to vaguely point at Angie's car and I abruptly turn towards her, 'cause I know this could be enough to get her mad and we'd be fucked. But she keeps on with her quiet act.

“We were going for a ride”

“A ride?”

“Yeah” I repeat.

“But you were parked”

“We stopped for a minute” my girlfriend promptly replies.

“Stopped to do what?”

“Chat” a mechanism has tacitly established by which we take turns giving answers, so this time it's me speaking.

“Talk” Angie adds.

“Listen to music” the answer was suggested by the tape, which goes on and now it's time for... The rain song?? Holy fuck, Angie, couldn't you be more obvious? And she got the nerve to say it's not a car fuck mix tape. The cassette alone would be an evidence of public indecency in court.

“Enjoy the view”

“Yeah, actually as soon as we got here we noticed how focused you were on the view” the woman rolls her eyes and barely holds a laugh. We'd laugh too if we weren't under interrogation.

“She didn't make it clear what kind of view she was talking about... you, you gotta try and be more open minded, please!” the comedian colleague is back and gives Angie her documents back through the open window.

“Right!” the woman exchanges an amused look with her partner, who's back with the questions.

“Right, so, if I search this bumper car, will I find drugs or not?”

“Of course not, officer” she replies with no hesitation and I hope it's true 'cause if he actually finds something, we'll be in double deep shit.

“Guns?”

“What? Please, I hate them”

“And what if I give you a breathalyzer? What will I find?”

“Nothing, 'cause I didn't drink. He did, he had something to drink, but he's not driving, I'm driving, so...”

“Yeah, I see, I got it from the start that you're the one who leads, that was quite obvious hahaha” the cop can't hold himself and bursts out laughing in the end, followed suit by his partner, who scolds him though, also revealing his name to us.

“Barlow!”

“Ok ok, do you know why we stopped you?”

“You didn't, we weren't moving” Angie whispers in a very low voice as she gives me the car registration to put away into the glove box. But it's not low enough.

“Don't try to be funny, Miss! Do you know it or not?” don't tell him that if he does, then you can do it too. I know you're dying to tell him but don't do it, please!

“No” we both reply at the same time. Thank god. At least she knew about this: with the police, always say you don't know.

“'Cause you think that fucking in a car in a public place is a normal thing, right?”

“It's not public if nobody's there, is it?” my girlfriend tries but she'll be very disappointed.

“On what rulebook did you read this?” he answers sarcastically.

“I hope you're not studying law, darling”

“No. I study cinema”

“Uh! So you were rehearsing a scene! That's what it was!” these two are having the time of their life with us.

“Barlow, shut up! Ehm ehm we're patrolling the area because there have been some robberies lately. There's a gang who targets couples who come here at night to park, like you guys”

“So if I were you, I'd change my habits a little” the guy adds as he starts breathing again after his fucking laughter fits.

“You have an apartment each, just go there”

“O'Hara, can't you understand? There must be some cheating going on here! He leaves his girlfriend at home with an excuse and meets his younger mistress, am I right or am I wrong?”

“NO!” Angie reacts outraged and I feel this night will last much much longer.

“You can tell us, I mean, this surely is not a crime” Barlow leans down and folds his arms against the window opening in the car door, almost diving inside.

“There's no girlfriend at home”

“So she's the cheater”

“No one's cheating on anyone, I'm her boyfriend, we're together”

“Ok so, help me understand: you're together, I mean, in a regular relationship, she's legal, you both have a place... annoying roommates?” agent O'Hara counts the elements that don't add up to her on her fingertips.

“No, I mean, not too much” Angie looks at me as she replies, as if she was looking for a suggestion or, most likely, 'cause she finds it all unreal, just like me.

“So why arent' you at home?”

“You gotta ask her” I don't know why I answer like that, I can't even say if I did it for real, I don't even notice. It just comes out like that, spontaneously.

“Eddie?!”

“Tell us, Angie, why aren't you at home?” the comedian gets curious and calls her by her first name.

“Because... because it's a new thing”

“And we got that, also considering the... the enthusiasm” he goes on, earning the umpteenth fake nasty look from his partner.

“She doesn't want to tell our friends” and I guess this is me again, freewheeling talking.

“Why? Is there some ex?” O'Hara questions and now we went from interrogation to gossiping.

“No. I mean, yes,” Angie corrects herself when she sees me making a face “but that's not the reason”

“What is it then? Don't tell me you're ashamed of him? I'm not particularly attracted to long-haired men but he seems a good looking guy to me, after all”

“I'm not ashamed at all, he's... he's very good looking, he's perfect, in everything” are we going from gossip to confessions? Wait a minute, what did she just say?

“It's just... well, we know the same people, it's a whole group of friends. And some of them play in a band, with him”

“Musicians, huh? We'd better do a search after all” Barlow tells another shitty joke but his colleague ignores him and focuses on the current topic.

“And are they closer to you or him? Are they more your friends or his?”

“Well, I got to know them a few months before but... I'd say they're friends of both of us in the same way”

“Ok, so you're both afraid to lose them and to make him lose them, if things went wrong, right?”

Angie nods in silence to O'Hara's words and I'm completely stunned. Lose them? Suddenly a new light is shed on the situation, a new point of view I hadn't considered before. Angie told me she doesn't trust herself but she trusts me and I didn't fully believe this version. She's always been worried about our friends, 'cause they're kind of nosy and always intruding in other people's private life, but I never figured out they were the actual object of her insecurities. The guys.

“I'm afraid they'll judge me or him. I'm afraid I can create problems in the group and that we'll end up parting ways” Angie's still confessing and I wonder if she needed to be pressured by the police to finally tell the truth. But is it Angie, who never talked, or is it me, who never understood?

“But it's just a normal thing, dear! Take each other, leave each other, take each other again, break up again, get together with another guy of the gang. It happens all the time among groups of friends but that doesn't necessarily ruin the friendship” O'Hara lights up a cigarette and from good cop she officially turned into big sister or aunt, the one you can tell everything to.

“Well, I don't know, I've never had a group of friends, I mean, not so big. I've never had so many friends” now everything's clear, shit. She's never had them and she doesn't want to lose them.

“Angie, even if something went wrong between us, don't worry, our friends would kick my ass, not yours. And if one of us has got to take the brush off, well, it's gonna be me” I try and reassure her but looking at her face I guess I'm failing.

“And do you think that would hurt me less?”

“It's like watching Oprah live” Barlow says, totally hooked on our show.

“Angie, friends will be friends. The truth is friends do care, yeah, but not that much. Don't get me wrong, friends love you, give you advice wether you asked for it or not, they can get in the way and root for you or him, but in the end they just want you both to be ok, together or not. At some point they stop and say it's up to you, guys, in the best sense possible. And if they disappear in the end, well, it means they weren't true friends”

“Maybe, maybe you're right”

“Sure I'm right!”

“Right or not, you can't come here and have sex anymore, do you understand?” the cop, who was basically collapsing on the car door, stands up straight and gives a couple of punches against the roof of the car, maybe to wake himself up.

“Sure”

“It won't happen again”

“Fine. It's getting late, let's go O'Hara”

“Go home, guys. And drive safe, Angie, ok?”

“Ok, thanks officer”

“Good night”

“Good night”

We roll up the windows at the same time, Angie starts the car and waits.

“Why aren't they moving?”

“They're waiting for us to go first, to make sure we are actually leaving” I explain and smile for the fact that she didn't understand that. And this quick scene is like a little representation of her innocence. Sometimes I forget that she's so young and has little experience of everything, and no, I'm not only talking about how to handle the police when they pull you over.

“Oh right, I didn't think about that” Angie snorts and we leave.

“That was so weird” we're back in town when Angie finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah”

“Such an embarrassing moment”

“Very embarrassing” it opened my eyes a little though, so it actually turned out to be useful. Since we left we haven't mentioned what had happened, we haven't mentioned anything because we just kept our mouth shut and only exchanged quick looks and smiles and sang a few songs. Now that everything's started sinking in, it's time to return to the core of the matter and do the talk, this time only between us.

“It never happened to me”

“To me neither” I had dealt with the police before but not for this kind of infringment.

“I've been there many times and I never saw the cops there, these robberies must be something recent”

It takes me a while to register what she said, maybe 'cause I'm still thinking about the infraction we were committing on these front seats like an hour ago. But when I figure it out it's like I've been awaken with someone throwing a bucket full of ice at my face.

“Never? Do you mean... you'd been there already?”

“Sure. If not, how could I know the place?” she calmly answers, so either she's crazy or she doesn't know where I'm getting at or she doesn't care.

“With who?” Angie's mouth opens up forming a small O and so I guess now she does know where I'm getting at.

“What do you mean, with who? With... with Meg”

“With Meg”

“Yeah, she's been living here for so long, she knows the area. She took me there”

“She took you to the beach at night to do what?”

“To go for a ride! To just stay there, drinking, smoking, gossiping, normal stuff”

“And that's it?”

“Hahaha why? What else do you think we were doing there?”

“I mean, you went there with Meg and that's it? But you said you've been there many times”

“And with you?”

“Ok, so, with Meg and I... and no one else?”

“Well...”

“Angie?”

“Not just you two...”

“Have you been there with Jerry?”

“...”

“Angie, I'm talking to you”

“I know, it's only me here” we're at the traffic lights and Angie looks around inside the car, even giving a glance at the back seat, before turning back to look at me.

“So?”

“I didn't go there with Jerry”

“So would you swear to me that you didn't take me to the same place where you used to park with your ex boyfriend?

“No, I didn't!”

“Ok”

“With Jerry.. ehm... we used to go to the upper parking place on the hill”

“WHAT?!”

“What? Why are you mad?”

“Why? What do you mean why? You took me to the same place where you fucked your ex and I'm not supposed to get mad?!”

“I never fucked Jerry there”

“The fact it was a different paking lot 50 yards away doesn't change anything, Angie”

“I mean I never did it with Jerry in the car!” she exclaims as she gestures an apology to the guy in the car behind us, who's just honked at us because we didn't go immediately when the lights turned green. What the hell does this fucker want? Is he in a fuckin' hurry or something? Fuck you man.

“Didn't you?”

“No, I never... I never had full sexual intercourse with Jerry in a car”

“This use of very, very specific and technical terminology looks kind of suspicious to me”

“We kissed and stuff”

“I don't wanna know” she says it and I'm already imagining it, I mean, I can imagine even if she doesn't say anything. My imagination doesn't need further help.

“But you practically asked me”

“I'm not stupid, I get that you didn't fuck him there, but still you did something. That's the same to me”

“Who cares who I took there first, now I got you, I'm with you”

“I care because... because it's weird, it gives me a... bad feeling... I don't like it”

“I told you as soon as we got there that I had already been there, but you didn't say anything then. Why are you suddenly upset now?”

She's right actually, she told me, I don't remember the exact words, but she let me know. The truth is I was so enraptured by the situation, by her, her scent, her gestures as she was taking off her coat, her big eyes, her naughty heart-shaped smile... I was like drunk and didn't understand shit.

“Maybe I hadn't noticed then, and now I did”

“I come from another state, I don't know many places. If I want to go to some quiet place with you, of course I have to follow... ehm... the beaten road”

“Well let's just stay home then and avoid going anywere else, problem solved”

“If you say so... Jerry's been in my bed too, shall we stop going there too?” Angie gives me a perplexed look and I know, I know I'm crazy, that I'm the sick one, that retroactive jealousy makes no sense. But I'm so fucking mad right now!

“Could you... could you just not remind me, please?”

“But... are you jealous of Jerry?”

“No” nooooo, I'm not! Why do you think that?

“Ok. Also because it'd be really stupid if you were” there you go.

“Exactly”

“Because I'm not interested in him, there's no chance at all I could be into him ever again and go back to him anytime soon” are you sure about that? I mean, on your part I know there's no chance. But Jerry, he still has hope. He told me! And this is a piece of information I'm gonna keep to myself.

“I know”

“Fine”

“Did you use the tape with him too or is it exclusively for me?”

“I did the mix tape yesterday, for you, for the occasion” she retorts tiredly as she rolls her eyes.

“Ok”

“Are you happy about that?”

“Very happy. I like it”

“Thank god”

“And how was Jerry's tape?”

“Jesus... Jerry never had a tape”

“I don't believe you”

“Believe what you want, I could as well not answer, because in the end that's none of your business. Yet I answered and told you the truth” she's right, what she had with Jerry is none of my business. And I'm acting like a jerk.

“Sorry”

“It's ok”

“I'm stupid sometimes”

“I noticed that”

“Then it goes away and I'm back to normal”

“I hope so”

“Can I borrow the tape? I wanna make a copy”

“I hope it goes away soon, very soon”

**

“Here we are” Angie stops one block away from my condo, as she's been doing lately every time she takes me home.

“Look, Jeff's not the bored meddler housewife who waits at the window to check who I'm going out with. He doesn't give a fuck, I'm not Stone” I joke to ease the tension, which is still on despite my apologies and the shit I say.

“Friday”

“Friday what? What happens?”

“You're playing at the Ok Hotel on Friday”

“Yes”

“And we're also celebrating Jeff's birthday, that's gonna be two days later”

“Right”

“And on Monday you'll start recording Eleven”

“Hahaha the name's Ten”

“But it's eleven songs! It doesn' t make sense, I told you!” she finally turns around to face me and her hands move to the lower part of the wheel.

“What's the point? It's also our first record, should we call it One? Or First? Hehehe”

“You can laugh as much as you want, when you won't know how to call your tenth album, then we'll see who'll have the last laugh”

“The tenth? Do you believe we'll last that long?”

“Sure! But you'll split up right because of that record, 'cause you won't agree on how to call it, and you'll be torn between... I don't know... a surfing brand and a Seattle Supersonics bench player”

“Hahaha that's if the Seattle Supersonics will still exist by then”

“Why wouldn't they?” she asks suddenly serious, in her typical adorable way of focusing on totally secondary aspects.

“Do you ever think about the future? I mean, future future, like in twenty or thirty years” I do. Now, for example, I'm picturing myself twenty years from now, taking to you in a car, maybe as we get back home from a Sonics' game.

“Uhmmm no, I mean, not in detail. But I'm eager to know if Kubrik was right about 2001 or if in 2019 we'll have android replicants slaves like in Blade Runner. Yeah, that's something I often think about”

“Hehe I mean your future, what's gonna happen to you personally, where you'll be at. I mean, where you picture yourself and what do you see yourself like... stuff like that” I ask her again and I'd want to confess that sometimes I do think about my future. And she would make fun of me, 'cause someone used at living the moment who thinks about the future doesn't make sense. But I'd pretend I didn't hear her and I'd say that I don't know if I'll get there but sometimes I like to think of myself in twenty or thirty years, maybe with shorter grey hair or no hair at all, living off my music, married, with two or three kids. And that's how I'd scare her to death and she'd definitely run away from me.

“Well, no, honestly I don't. I only hope I'll get my degree before then”

“What? A control freak like you doesn't plan her future? You surprise me”

“You can't controll the distant future, like the past. The only thing you can have control on is the present. Or the near future” she shrugs as her eyes wander through the windshield.

“You're living the moment too, then? Should I expect you to climb some building in your free time?”

“Hehe no but my planning time is short term. For example, this time I planned until Friday, as I was telling you, before we got lost in one of our typical nonsense conversations” I love our typical nonsense conversations.

“What happens on Friday?”

“I though we could do it on Friday”

“Do what? Climb some building? I'd start with something iconic, like that Hat'n'Boots shit at the gas stations, what's its name...”

“I thought we could say it on Friday”

“Say what?”

“About us... to our friends”

“Uh” I can't believe that. Am I dreaming? Yes, come on, the cops story was too weird, of course it's all a dream, I should have known.

“Since everybody's gonna be there for different reasons, I think that could be the right time. So, you know, we'll say it just once” she keeps talking and strangely I didn't wake up yet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“You don't have to do it just because two fucking cops told you to”

“It's not for that”

“Neither because I got mad for no reason a minute ago”

“Not even for that”

“Why then?”

“Hahah you've been pestering me to tell everybody from the start and now you're making a fuss?” Angie lets go of the wheel and turns around towards me completely.

“I'm not making a fuss, I just want you to be sure and it seems strange to me that you got convinced in a couple of hours”

“I didn't get conviced now, I've always thought we'd say it sooner or later obviously. Now I realized the moment has come”

“Has it?

“Yes”

“Ok”

“Great”

“We're doing it on Friday”

“Alright”

“And how do we do it? I mean, practically, how will we do? Should I get on stage, point at you and say into the mic Just so you know, that girl down there is my girfriend?”

“If you dare doing something like that, you won't even be alive for Pearl Jam's first album, much less for the tenth” she threatens me so good that I'm scared for real.

“Should I get some posters printed?”

“We won't have to do anything special, we'll just act normal”

“And how will we communicate with our friends? Telepathically?”

“We'll act normal, do as we always do when we're alone and they're not around”

“Do you mean tear our pants off and jump on each other?” I know, I know I'm ajerk. She's finally opening up and I just talk bullhsit. But I can't help it, that's how I am, especially when I'm happy.

“Eddie!”

“You're fixating on public places, huh? I didn't know this... exhibitionist side of you, ouch!” I insist as I try and dodge her slaps.

“You're such an ass!”

“Hehe come on, I was kidding”

“I'm talking serious stuff and you make fun of me”

“I joke because I'm happy for your decision”

“Anyway... I meant normal stuff, walking hand in hand, hugging, kissing, but without showing off too much, discreetly but so that everyone understands. And they'll come to ask us Do you have to tell us something? or  Are you a couple? and at that point we'll only have to say yes, short answer, no further explanation needed”

“You're a genius”

“Do you think it'll do?”

“Sure it will do, I think it's a very good idea”

“Ok, it's a deal then”

“And since we're telling everybody next Friday, could you please drive me home?”

“Hahaha no”

“And maybe come in with me”

“Is it Friday already?”

“Uhm no”

“Forget it then”

“How long is it until Friday?”

“Not that long. Good night” Angie gets close to give me what in her intentions was supposed to be a quick kiss but I can't resist and hold her for much longer.

“You're freezing, put your coat back on” I tell her as I unwillingly pull away from that cold hug. Cold in terms of temperature only.

“You're right, I left so fast that I forgot to put it on” she follows my advice and grabs it from the back seat.

“So... good night” I kiss her once again, open the door and get out of her car.

“Good night, I'll call you tomorrow, ok?” I nod at her and smile internally. I love when she calls. Then suddenly, right when she's about to start the car again, I remember a not so small detail.

“Angie, wait!” I knock against the car door on her side a couple of times, she brakes and rolls the window down.

“What's wrong? Did you forget anything?” she asks as she looks around inside the car.

“What does W stand for?”

“What?”

“The cop, when he was reading through your driving licence, he said Angelina W. Pacifico. What does W stand for?

”Oh. That W” she stiffens and the engine goes off, I don't think she turned it off on purpose.

“Yep, that one” I lean down and look at her through the open window, waiting for an answer.

“It's a first letter”

“I got that. The first letter of...”

“Of a name”

“Ok, and what's this name?”

“My second name”

“That is...?”

“That is... a name starting with W” she gives me a pained look and I feel she's not done with her blabbering.

“Hahaha what's that, another of your secrets?”

“Exactly! Good night, Eddie” she's about to wind up the window but I put my hand in the way and stop her.

“Hahaha good night my ass, tell me your name!”

“Do I have to?”

“You're my girlfriend, I gotta know your full name!”

“I don't know your full name”

“I was born Edward Louis Severson III, I was Edward Jerome Mueller for a while and now I'm Edward Jerome Vedder, 'cause I took my mother's last name”

“Jerome and Louis are lovely names” she remarks, focusing on the names and completely ignoring the anagraphic mess that is my identity.

“I bet your second name's lovely too”

“No, it's not”

“W as in... Wendy?”

“Nope”

“Wanda?”

“No”

“Wilhelmina? Winifred?”

“No and no”

“Winona”

“I wish. It's not even a name”

“It's not a name, what does it mean?”

“It's a name that is not a name, it's... it's a thing”

“A thing? Wait... hippie parents, right?”

“Ehm... yeah, something like that”

“Willow!”

“No”

“Water”

“No, good night Eddie” she restarts the car and at least my desperate expression has the power to bring back a smile on her face.

“Shit, you can't leave me like this!”

“Yet I'm doing it, nighty night!” Angie goes away just like that and leaves me here, alone, to rack my brain on the umpteenth mystery, a new thing I don't know about her and I'm looking forward to know.

“No no no, Grace, I'm sorry but I have to tell you: you got it all wrong. What about this guy here? Where did he come from? Do you wanna go? Just go! How much space do you need to pass a Granada diesel?” without taking anything away from my dear father's car, it's not exactly the fastest model produced by Ford.

“Why?”

“Do you want me to pull over? Is it enough or do I have to get out and help you push your car? Oh there you go! Good boy! What do you mean, why? Do you see any logic in it?” the asshole passes me and I can go back to torture Grace.

“Well, apart from the night guard who was about to catch us, it was nice and it seemed like you were having fun”

“I was! The night pic nic at the abandoned factory was cool. And also running from the guard. Well, if you can call it running. You were as slow as a snail. If the guy was at least a little in shape, he'd have got us”

“He'd have got me, since you fled without even waiting for me” she sulks.

“I was waiting for you in the car”

“Sure”

“With the engine on, I had a detailed plan in my head”

“I can imagine”

“Anyway, the date was an 8, I didn't mean that”

“What else then?”

“The cassette. It's all wrong” I'm not saying she has to be on Angie's level, she's sort of a black belt in the art of making mix tapes. But this is a complete mistake. If I had known, I'd not have asked her to bring something to listen to in the car.

“Hahaha they're songs I like, how can they be wrong?”

“It's not the songs, it's how you put them together. You broke every rule for the creation of a mix tape” the songs, taken individually, go from ok to amazing. Some even surprised me. I had no idea Grace knew bands like Cock Sparrer or Japan, which have got nothing to do with each other. And of course one comes after the other in Grace's mix.

“Do rules exist for that?”

“Sure they do!”

“Tell me one of those so-called rules”

“Well, first of all, you've got no theme”

“A theme?”

“Yeah, a theme, a common thread, something they have in common”

“The theme is: Songs I like”

“Nuh-uh that's not how it works. You gotta tell a story and not just throw in random tracks. You mixed songs of different genres, decades, mood, even different languages!”

“I love that song by Ofra Haza!”

“Slow ones, then fast ones, then all the slow ones. No! And you can't just pick a lo-fi tune and then follow with a super produced song”

“I'm not a musician, I don't care about technicalities, I just go with my feelings”

“What kind of insane feelings bring you to the point of putting Bootsy Collins right after Bauhaus?”

“They both set... an atmosphere” Gracie shrugs but I go on with my rant.

“And you selected live tracks too... live tracks... in a compilation... uhm... that's a no-no”

“Ok, so how do you grade the cassette?”

“Unclassifiable. Try again”

“And how do you grade these instead?” she crosses her legs to show me her new pair of boots. As if I hadn't noticed them already.

“A 10, of course. Pete, your ex, advised you good” they're brown, with thin tight laces and some sort of side floral embroidery.

“Pete is not my ex and you know it. And don't pretend to be jealous, nobody falls for that”

“I'm not jealous, I was simply acknowledging his refined taste” and they look great with those corduroy shorts.

“And by the way, I didn't buy them there, I found them in a thrift shop downtown” I bask in the belief she bought them especially for me, because she knows the effect they have on me.

“They're not bad. Although you didn't buy them from Pete” on the other hand though I don't want her to think I'm some kind of perv who can't get an erection without seeing a nice pair of boots. And generally I don't want her to believe I'm that kind of person you have to necessarily surprise every fucking time with something weird and over the top. That's the impression I got but maybe it's just me. I mean, the date thing is funny but mostly because it's our thing and not because of the peculiarity of the date choices.

“You're an asshole, Stone. Did somebody ever tell you?”

“Yeah. But it sounds better when you say it” I reply, quickly taking her hand and kissing it and I really wanna see her comeback to my masterstroke.

“Sounds better than my mix tape too?” she's good too, I have to admit it.

“Definitely. Also because it doesn't take that much...” but she doesn't know yet how much I like having the last word.

“Right. As much as it took me to realize you're an asshole” she retorts with a wink. The last word, she loves stealing it from me so much.

**

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Grace asks me from the bathroom, while I focus on one of the fishtanks.

“Sure, I'm full” she must have prepared like twenty sandwiches for the pic nic, plus the wine. Yeah, I'm full.

“Can't you make a tiny little room in your stomach for dessert?”

“I think I don't have any room left in any internal organs, even if I wanted to. Maybe into my ears, I could try but...”

“Not even for this dessert?” Grace comes out and the way she shows up is not new to me but not less extraordinary.

“Well... maybe... just a little bite...” I think my internal organs are exploding the moment Grace walks up to me, wearing nothing but her boots.

I instinctively back up but I don't know why, this fucking instinct must be broken because I have no intention to escape her attentions. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by her beauty. Maybe I'm still a little tipsy.

“Perfect.” Grace walks my way but instead of hugging me, she passes me by and walks up to the kitchen. I see her move away one of the chairs, maybe the new one, then place her hands on the table to jump on it “So, what are you waiting for? The meal is ready”

“From which porn b-movie did you get this quote?”

“Hurry up or I'll put my clothes back on”

“Ok”

**

“What are you doing tonight? Are you sleeping here?” I'm still trying to remember who I am and where I am and what kind of truck has just hit me, when Grace shows up again in the kitchen wearing pyjamas, brushing her teeth.

“It depends”

“On what?”

“If I can sleep in your bed I'll stay, otherwise I'll go back home” I don't know what gave me the strength to come up with the topic that could bring to a big heavy discussion. Maybe I reached such a balance in our relationship that I can openly talk about everything. Or maybe it's just that my lower back hurts, my leg hurt, all my bones hurt and I'm sleepy, so I'd rather sleep on the closest most comfortable surface.

“Ok, see you tomorrow then” Grace points at me with the toothbrush, then sticks it back into her mouth and goes back into the bathroom.  

“Come on, Pebbles, why do you always act like that?” I get up from the couch, pulling up my boxers and pants, trying not to lose balance, then set up to go to the bathroom to speak face to face like normal people do. But the face to face thing becomes literal when she rushes out of the door like a fury and we almost crack heads.

“What the hell did you just call me?” she asks barely holding a laugh.

“You said your last name means stone, right? I can't call you... She-Stone, that would be weird”

��Stonia?”

“No”

“Stonette?”

“Why can't we sleep together?” I drag her back on the crux of the matter because knowin her, and me, we could go on like this for hours.

“I told you why, it's complicated” Grace walks away from me and stops in front of the couch, as if she wanted to sit there, but then changes her mind and goes on to take a sit at the kitchen table, on the chair right beside the entrance.

“I know but time has passed. And you gotta start somewhere to... get used to another person's presence, right? Let's go step by step, together” I take back the chair Grace had thrown on the side half an hour ago and I sit down, right in front of her.

“I'm not the only one who has to get used to something new, Stone” her words tell me there's clearly something else and I'm not stupid, I've known for a while that it's not just a matter of being used at being single. There's something that's making her insecure. At first I thought it was something in her room, like the tons of stuffed animals or some real animal, some weird pet she didn't want to tell me about. Then I figured out it's more than that. I thought he could have OCD or something like that, something that makes here panic as soon as someone enters in the picture and threatens her balance. I mean, just think about what happened with the chair thing. Maybe she arranges her things on her nighstand following a determined use order or she makes her bed using set squares and a ruler and the thought that someone could mess it up makes her go nuts. I guess she only manages to sleep in her empty bed. Then I thought it could've got something to do with her past, maybe with the long illness she never wants to talk about. Maybe she's taking meds that fuck her up a little or that she simply doesn't want me to see. I even went as far as to thinking she could take some drugs. But no, not Gracie. And what would be the connection with her bedroom?

“Ok, if you tell me what I have to get used to, maybe I can start right now and you can follow suit, what do you think?”

“I wish it was that easy”

“I know it's not easy or I wouldn't have waited so long before putting the squeeze on you”

“Are you putting the squeeze on me?”

“Yes, just talk”

“Do I have to?”

“I won't leave until you tell me what's wrong. For real”

“Oh.” maybe Grace has just realized that I'm being serious and that I won't put up with her elusive explanations anymore “Ok”

“Don't be scared, it's... it's just me.” I stretch my arms out on the table to take both her hands in mine and finally she looks up to me “And you know how smart I am, I can comprehend anything, don't worry”

“Hehehe I know, I can trust you”

“That's it”

“I gotta trust you, I mean, I knew this moment would have come, I have to tell you sooner or later. I can't hide it from you forever. Despite your particular preferences.

“What do you mean?”

“Ugh I can't believe I'm about to have the talk, again” she covers her face with her hands and then runs them through her hair.

“Again?”

“That must be why I became allergic to steady relationships: just to avoid having the same talk each time. But then you came and blew up my plans” Grace takes my hands once again, squeezes them gently and smiles, before letting them go and focusing back on the table cloth's print.

“Which talk?”

“It's not easy for me to feel comfortable with a man... in intimacy”

“Really? 'Cause my joints and I didn't notice” I try and joke to ease the tension but I'm not sure I should. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and let her speak.

“I'm not only talking about that intimacy but rather in general”

“'Cause you need your space and-”

“No, it's not about that. It's... it's a physical thing, Stone”

“Physical?”

“I know, knowing me, one would thing the problem is in my head. And won't deny that, it's a fact that I'm not completely in my right mind”

“Well... you said that, huh?” I shrug and reply to her half smile with a full one.

“But the main problem, well, it's about my body”

“Your body can't possibly have any problem, Pebbles”

“Because you haven't seen all of it, Bam Bam” considering the gravity of the moment, I decide to ignore the nickname. Also because I called for it.

“I haven't, really? What else is there to see, more than I already saw?”

“I'd say that your strange fixation gave me a sort of advantage this time. Or disadvantage. Because thanks to that, I could postpone the talk forever pretending the problem doesn't exist, so it really depends on how you look at it”

“My strange... Gracie, I'm not getting what you're trying to say, could you be clearer?”

“There's something odd in my body, something you haven't seen yet”

“Has it got something to do with your past health problems?”

“Yes”

“Oh Grace, a couple of scars won't make me uncomfortable!” I stand up, ready to take her in my arms and squeeze her to death as a punishment but she keeps sitting, glued to her chair.

“Hehehe scars... I wish it was that!”

“Is it worse?”

“The problem is not something I have but rather something... I don't have”

“I must be dumb, I didn't notice anything”

“Do you know what an osteosarcoma is?”

“Given the name, I'd say a bone disease” the technical medical term breaks into a so far lighthearted conversation and hijacks it towards a darker destination.

“A tumor, for the record”

“Is that what happened to you, years ago?”

“Yes”

“But you won against that fucking tumor, I mean, you're alright now”

“But that fucking tumor left its mark anyway, Stone”

“Grace, seriously, there's nothing that could push me away from you. I know I may look like an uptight fucker but I'm not easily impressed” I'd better avoid telling her that I don't really like needles though.

“Do you know how they cure osteosarcoma?”

“Chemotherapy?”

“Chemotherapy and surgery”

“Ok”

“It started from the big toe, an extremely rare circumstance the doctors said”

“You always have to stand out, right?” I try and keep things light and Grace smiles keeps going along with me but I'm not sure this is the best attitude although I'm not showing it.

“Then it spread to all the toes, then the rest. It was all so fast, one week before I felt good, I lived my life as usual, then my foot hurt while I was jogging and one week later I was risking to lose my leg or worse, to die if it reached vital organs”

“But the super docs did their magic thing and cured you and got you back in shape” I sound like the annoying child who doesn't wanna hear the drama parts of the good night story and wants to get straight to the happy ending so he can fall asleep in peace.

“Yeah, they saved me. At a small cost”

“Grace, I don't give a fuck if your foot is not nice to see, the important thing is that you're here, now, with me, and you can tell this story”

“It's not nice to see because you can't see it, Stone. Didn't you understand? It's not there anymore, I don't have it, I had to have it amputated” I can hear words coming out of Grace's lips but they sound emptied of every trace of sense and meaning. I feel the need to sit down and say something, anything, but whereas I manage to do the first thing, my second goal seems strangely impossible. Maybe for the first time in my life I don't know what to say.  I mean, there are so many things I'd want to say that roll in my head and they all seem stupid, shallow, flat and completely useless.

“Stone?”

And I don't even know how to move now. What do I do? If I back up, I'd look detached. If I get closer, she'll think I'm flaunting a quietness I realistically can't have right now. Same thing if I look at her feet. But if I purposedly avoid looking at them, she'll convince herself she scared me.

“Say something, Stone. Or if you don't wanna say anything, at least close your mouth, you've got it wide open for fifteen minutes” Graces reaches for me over the table and closes my jaw with a light pressure of her hand. Her hand so delicate, sweet, gentle, like her. I can't believe something so terrible could happen right to Grace. Ok, nobody deserves such pain and the world is full of horrors. But I wanna be free to get mad at such an injustice.

“Is it the left one or right one?” I finally speak. And I say something stupid, of course.

“What difference does it make?” Grace looks at me as if I was dumb.

“I just asked”

“The right one”

“And do you have a prosthesis?”

“How would I stand up and walk otherwise?”

“But you wouldn't say it, I mean, when you walk, you walk normally. You're just-”

“As slow as a snail” she finishes my sentence and it's like when in crime movies they give you the ultimate hint and it lights a spark for the detective, who starts going backwards through all the key points of the investigation. In my specific case, all the times I made fun of Grace for being slow.

“God, I'm a jerk” and here's the sudden realization.

“Jerk or not, you couldn't have known this”

“Yes but I feel like shit all the same”

“Stop thinking about it and you'll be better. So, what do you wanna do now?”

“What do I wanna do?”

“From my personal experience, I can say men fall into two categories at this point. I wanna know which one you belong to”

“It depends on the categories” I answer, more and more uncomfortable on this chair. Maybe it's because it's the new one. Yeah, that's it. Grace is right, she's always been right, not all chairs are the same.

“Those who don't wanna see and those who want to look”

“Oh”

“And inside the before mentioned categories, we can find two subgroups: those who don't wanna see that but ask me to show them, because they want to pretend they don't care, and those who are actually curious and would like to watch, but they say no because they don't want me to think they're gross”

“I, well, I guess I belong to a brand new category”

“That is?”

“The ones who don't know what to do”

“Hehe well, that's surely a more honest category” Grace stands up and I immediately do the same.

“Did you tell somebody else? I mean, to our friends?”

“No”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“That's not exactly something you say during small talk, what do you think? Hi, I'm Grace, I'm an aquarious and my favorite color is red. Oh and by the way, I only got one foot”

“I... I need... yeah, I mean, I gotta get out” how can I tell her I need to leave without looking like a jerk? I have no idea, and that's why it comes out like shit.

“Are you leaving?” she asks as I take my jacket and start putting it on.

“I need some fresh air”

“Oh, ok”

“And I have to clear my mind.” as I try to put my arm into the second sleeve for the third time unsuccessfully, Grace has pity and helps me “Thank you”

“Are you ok, Stone?” I honestly don't know the answer to this question and I don't even know why.

“Sure, everything's alright.” I take her face into my hands and kiss her “It's just... I didn't see that coming, I have to... process it, figure all this out, that's it” I tell her and myself.

“After all these years, I still haven't found a better way to say it”

“Well, you won't need to find another way now anyway”

“No?”

“No, 'cause you're with me now, you won't have to say it to any other guy” I offer a more sincere smile to Grace, also because she deserve nothing less, and kiss her again.

“Thank god. See, you're not totally useless then”

“Good night, Pebbles”

“Night, Stone” I get out of Grace's apartment, then leave the building, then get into my car and that's when I realize I have been holding my breath the whole fucking time.

[rebelcourtesan]

Thicker than Water Ch. 27 Sneak Peek

Liz was never much a fan of tea.  Oh, she enjoyed a glass of ice cold sweet tea with her meals, but as for going through the process of boiling, steeping, and knowing the wide variety of tea, she never found the desire or time for it.  However, she had to admit right now she was enjoying the effects a calming chamomile tea was having for her.

The atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant for a teahouse taking place in Hell.  Their table was in a garden hedged with rose bushes which gave the area a pleasant floral scent.  Even the afternoon felt warm without it being too humid or hot to enjoy nor was there a crowd, not that she was worried about being seen if there were.

Instead of taking her to the teahouse via a vehicle, he did something that swallowed her shadows.  Everything gone terrifyingly dark and then color seeped through the shadows like water leaking in a cracked pitcher.  Then she was in the teahouse garden with Alastor, but wearing new clothes.  

She was dressed like a femme fatale from an old black and white flick.  Long black black and white dress with black Mary Jane heels.  Her hair was styled with hair curl at her temples with a cap pinned at her crown and a black veil covered most of her face.  Between the empty garden and the veil, she felt confident no one could see she was still a living person.  

Alastor already knew she was human.  Her intuition of him knowing she was human was apparent now.  And what would he make of it?  She knew very little about him other than most demons were absolutely terrified of him.  The employee who served them barely gave her a glance as he kept his eyes on Alastor as if he were a rabid dog about to pounce.  

“So . . . you know why holy weapons kill demons?”  She wanted to resume their earlier conversation now they had their tea and little cakes.  It felt strange to handle teacup with gloves on as she only wore gloves during snow season.  

“Of course.  Magic!”  

“Oh. . .”  Liz had been hoping he would give her more of an explanation.  “Just magic?”  

“Certainly!  You don’t believe in magic?  After being in Hell?”  He was grinning at her over his teacup from which he took a short sip.  

“Uh . . .I guess I do now.”  

“You didn’t believe in life after death?”

“Well, I did . . .I mean I do . . .I just . . .well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this for Hell.  I thought it was all fire and brimstone or people being forced to endure their worst nightmares for eternity.  All I’ve seen are people giving into their base desires for drugs, sex, and violence.  I thought Hell was supposed to punish Sinners, but it enables them to continue the behavior that got them sent to Hell in the first place.  No one seems miserable.”           

“But they are,” Alastor declared.  “It’s not apparent on the surface, but if you look closely enough, beneath the facade, no one in Hell is happy.  It’s all misery, false fulfillment, self-destruction, and self-loathing.  It’s just . . .wonderful!”  He sighed happily as if recalling a pleasant memory.

Liz took a small sip of tea and set it down on the saucer.  “What can you tell me about redemption?  Does it work?”

“Oh, no, my dear.  Redemption is impossible,” Alastor shook his head, his grin never faltering.  “If redemption was going to happen, it would have happened in life.  As I told the princess, there is no undoing what has been done.”

“That’s true, but isn’t it possible to be better?”  Liz asked, furrowing her brow.  “Like a drunk goes to rehab, stops dreaming, and lives a sober life as a better person.  Isn’t that redemption?”

“Oh, and what if he drove while inebriated and ran over someone?  Ran over a young mother?”  Alastor rejoined and began speaking as if narrating a radio drama.  “The children are orphans, forced to live in a wretched orphanage and work miserable jobs in a dirty mine to survive.  Oh, the humanity!”

She couldn’t tell if he was being humorous or serious.  He was the oddest demon she had met thus far in Hell and also the most dangerous.  Seviathan had been dangerous as would any rich brat who wasn’t afraid to hire out thugs, but Alastor was something else altogether.  

“That’s terrible, of course, and he would have to be punished for it and rehabilitated, but once he gets out and starts making wiser choices, he wouldn’t necessarily be the same man as before.”

“That might be true in life, but this is Hell, darling, no one is going to change for the better because no one wants to change.  The temptations are too great.  Do you really believe your dear friend Angel Dust is going to give up his drinking, drugs, and sex for a ridiculous notion of going to Heaven where he will not be allowed to do any of what he craves?”

“I don’t know . . .Angel Dust is Angel Dust.  I know he signed up for the free room and board, but he is a good person despite the drugs and drinking and sex.  My mother once told me that people who have holes in their hearts try to fill them with sinful habits.”

“Are you talking about Angel now?”  Or someone else?”

Her hands squeezed together on her knees.  “My father . . .he’s not a bad person either.  Maybe he did leave Mom and me behind, but he’s done so much for me since I came down here.  If Angel Dust doesn’t want to change, then maybe my Dad can.”

[natemxre]

Escape the Motherloving Nightmare - Part 11

Tag List: @undocumented-terriaki @risiskifi @virge-of-death @legit-humantm @shay-untitled @uraeus56 @supersepticsteph @margarita-is-the-answer @derisiveharridan @brookeisanerd @reeeeeaaper @aquilacalvitium @bokunobandicoot @authordrive @squishy-anon @imnotcameraready

‘The redhead is a stranger, but the blond is a face I know all too well. More deadly than a cobra, or the most fatale of femmes, but how to tell the kid? How to sum up a toxic tango of two decades, locked in a fight with this twisted son of a bitch who-’

“You’re doing it again.”

Mare’s voice is rough, the kid leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and head partially bowed. He feels as though he ran through Hellfire and by rights he probably ought not to be pushing himself, but Abe stinks, this place sucks, and close contact is not something he really wants right now.

In their bid to escape the strange green fog, the pair had hurried into the first unlocked building they could find, leading them into this swanky, if somewhat empty lounge, dressed up like some 70s love nest that swingers would go crazy for. Funky furniture, lots of pillars, and a hideous orange color palette that’s probably going to burn their eyes from their skulls.

Abe stands a short distance away, blinking in confusion, before closing his eyes and sighing as he tries not to sway in place.

“Give me a break, I’m very drunk.”

In the middle of the room stand two strangers and if Abe’s rambling means anything, he knows at least one of them. They certainly don’t look like friends, one of blondie’s hands wrapped around the redhead’s throat, barely holding him up so his toes are only just brushing against the carpet. Blondie looks surprised but the redhead is somehow grinning,.

Joey, the Savant, stares in shock at these party crashers, before scowling and turning to the Rengade.

“What is he doing here?” his free hand comes up to gesture towards the detective.

“He was with Dirk when I-!” The rest of the answer is choked away as the fingers around Shane’s windpipe tighten.

“So you kept him on set?!”

Mare raises an eyebrow curiously. “Set? Is this some kind of show?”

“Well actu-” Shane coughs and splutters as Joey raises him higher before slamming him onto the ground with the kind of strength you wouldn’t expect to be in such a skinny guy.

The blond gives a gutteral scream as he boots the Renegade in the chest, flooring him. A moment later, a short calming breath and Joey stands, straightening himself out, brushing invisible dust from his Victorian jacket as he turns with a grin, pinning the detective with a sly smile.

“Hello Abe-y.”

“Graceless.” Abe responds with a curt nod, scowling. “Sorry to crash your murder game. Except I’m not, because now I’ve got you.”

“Oh please.” Joey’s laugh is dry, cold, and emotionless, bringing his fingers to his mouth as though pretending to hide his humour at the detective’s stupidity, “You’ve got nothing.”

“Where is he?”

There’s a flash of knowing in the Savant’s eyes, and a smirk with all the innocence of a flasher caught with his pants down. “Wouldn’t you like to kno-”

“Bored now.” Mare cuts across him, not caring in the least that Joey is clearly pissed at the interruption. It’s bad enough dealing with one drunken dramatic asshole. Throwing in an overacting douchebag will get them exactly nowhere fast. “Abe, who is this jackass?”

“Joseph Graceffa AKA Graceless.” Abe steps forward, slowly pacing directly between the kid and the maniac, his subtle attempt at trying to protect the ghost not going unnoticed by the Savant who raises his eyebrows curiously. “The linch pin at the center of my life’s work. The Unsolvable Case. Not a shred of evidence, just a list of missing persons, two traumatised survivors, and him.” he stops, finger raising to point at Joey, “Partner said I was chasing ghosts, wasting time on a crime that was already going cold. Until he went missing.”

Joey smiles. Oh he remembers that! It feels so long ago now. A lot more slapdash, many hiccoughs, and almost caught out by two of the players. But it’s so easy to rig the game in your favour when you’re pulling the right strings. Such a shame, they didn’t make it!

“Was that the Disco Dancer or the District Attorney?” The Savant absent-mindedly taps his chin in thought, delighting in the little frown lines as Abe scowls at him again. Joey chuckles and shrugs. “They all start to blur together after a while.”

“All…?” Mare glances to the detective. Back in the bar, Abe had mentioned going through a lot of partners, all of them missing, he’d said, but if Mare is following this correctly then, “...You killed them.”

“Dirk’s a good kid, Graceless.” Abe has stopped pacing, standing face on to the murderer. “He doesn’t deserve this. None of them did.”

“You know actually, I am glad you’re here,” Joey’s eyes steel, pinning the detective, yet somehow Abe doesn’t flinch, with an unnerving and creepy gaze. It’s almost like he’s proud of the pain they can all see on the detective’s face. “This time, I can make you watch.”

The death-stenched air in the Divine Lounge suddenly drops, breath turning to vapor in the air while the lights overhead flicker wildly. Long creepy shadows are thrown across the carpeted floor as Abe shouts but Mare’s already gone from behind him, reappearing behind Joey. Less than a second to react, the ghost’s icy hand plunges into the Savant’s chest, grabbing whatever is in there – because he knows it’s not a heart – and squeezing.

“Don’t!” Abe is reaching for him, smart enough to keep his distance, honestly afraid as a rage that’s starting to get a little too familiar burns in the kid’s eyes.

Mare doesn’t notice, his entire focus zeroed in on the weakening pulse beneath his fingers. Murderer! Monster! People like him – like Afton – deserve everything coming to them, but since the universe seems to be late with the karmic payout, he’ll gladly pay the bill.

“Kid, stop!”

The Savant stands in place, arms raised, eyes wide, mouth open. His lungs are spasming, desperate to draw in some air, but frozen in place as he feels his chest shrinking. Mare hopes he can feel it, every gasp, every twitch. He hopes it hurts!

“I can end this.” Mare voice is a good deal calmer than he is, steady and even.

“Not like this!” Abe shouts, but Mare barely seems to hear him, “What about your friend?”

The rage falters.

Mad….

“Your friend,” Abe notices the pause and takes his chance, gesturing vaguely towards ‘outside’, “he’s still out there. Dirk too. We find them, we get out of here. That’s how we beat this bastard.”

The seconds draw out before Mare slowly withdraws. As his hand comes free, the murderer collapses into a heap, chest heaving, gasping for breath. The ghost stands over him radiating an ineffable strength that Abe hadn’t noticed before.

“I see you again, I’m breaking your neck.” Mare’s voice is low and grumbly as he steps over the pile of murderer on the floor and heads towards the door. Who knows, maybe the fog won’t melt Abe’s lungs like acid. The detective pauses, glancing towards Joey, stopping only to flip him off before slowly making his way after the kid.

They leave the Savant and the Renegade, on the floor, both gasping for breath. One clutching his chest, the other holding his neck, both silent in shock for a good several minutes.

It’s the Renegade who finally breaks the silence with a smirk.

“I like that kid.”

[allyvampirelass29]

Painting the Fire

A Vampire Diaries Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

Niklaus Mikaelson smirked to himself, the paintbrush poised in his slender fingers, as if he were conducting an orchestra, coaxing the lyrical likeness from the canvas, his determined hand roving in brave strokes, ending in a slow wisp of a tenderly crafted raven curl.

"Really Nick, are you seriously painting that irksome assassin yet again?"

Klaus winced, reluctant to move the brush from the canvas. Ah, and how the notes have soured......

He turned slowly to look over his shoulder, clearly perturbed. Ironic for his little sister to have used the term, "irksome," being, herself, the very personification of the word, sighing in a huff, arms crossed, as she leaned forward, her face crinkled in harsh scrutiny.

"Come now, Rebekah, don't be nasty, not in the face of such...….. untamed loveliness."

His raspy voice got very quiet then, touching his fingertip to the mocha coloured cheek of his fiercely exotic subject, a gentleness stealing over his features, as the fiery dark eyes looked back, gleaming with danger and desire.

"Tal."

"Ever the poet, aren't you, Brother? Untamed, oh most definitely but lovely?" Rebekah scoffed tossing her long, straight blonde hair back, her impudent face continuing to frown. "You should have made her angrier, more inaccessible, with her signature "bite my ass," expression."

Klaus' lips curled into a fond grin, his usual piercing blue eyes, playfully dancing, knowing that expression his sister had so eloquently described all too well.

"What is it about this one, Nick? She can be so horrid to you, say the most frightful things! She supposedly works for you, is sired by you, and yet still defies you at every turn!! Why ever would you desire a creature that runs so hot and cold on you!? Is it just because she gives you something to chase? Poet and Predator, of course, I should have guessed. All the women in the world fall at the feet of the Great and Terrible Niklaus, but this one fights back, makes you play her game, and you're all too happy for it!!!

Rebekah threw her arms out exasperated as she spoke, mocking him, turning her head from his raven-haired masterwork, as though it pained her to look at it.

"Rebekah, if you're going to be dramatic, I'm going to need another scotch," He simpered coolly, dipping his brush into the blood red paint, his tongue pressing against his bottom lip, as he put the finishing touches on her own sassy Spanish lips, and the ruffles of her off the shoulder dress.

"Why this one, she asks...…" He spoke aloud leisurely, more to his painting than the frustrated petite blond being difficult. "Shall we enlighten her, Darling?" He asked Tal's flirty eyes in a hushed rasp, brushing the blood red paint over her shoulder, watching the satin form around her skin, the answer hot on his lips.

"The Fire...….." He whispered with a harsher, more hungry edge, swooping the crimson ruffle around the small of her open back. "Natalia..... My Spanish Rose...… From the moment I found her, picked her up, broken, I felt it. The fire, the delicious potential, burning inside of her. She's my Masterpiece, Rebekah, not just in artform, but in body, in flesh. I've stoked that fire, both starved and fed it into an unstoppable force. My femme fatale, as flawless a killer, as she is breathtaking a beauty. I want to taste that fire, become...… one with it."

"How very lovely of you, Nick," Rebekah chortled back, placing her hand on his shoulder, and he bristled, not trusting her overly zealous smile. "It's too bad. I feel sorry for you, I really do."

Klaus seethed as she squeezed his shoulder in feigned comfort. "Whatever do you mean, dear, dear, Sister?" He managed through clenched teeth in careful threat.

"It's too bad," Rebekah continued, smiling even more charming, leaning down to look him in the eyes, her brandished blade finding its mark. "That she's madly in love with Damon Salvatore...…."

Klaus leapt up from his seated place at his easel, shoulders heaving, and his eyes snapped furiously, flashing gold and glowing. "What the HELL did you just say!?!?"

"Oh c'mon, Nicky, it's disgustingly obvious. Your Spanish Rose has already been plucked by your worst enemy.......... You want to talk about flesh? His hands know every inch of her caramel skin, while the only thing you're caressing of her, is that cold, rough canvas. Of course....... there's our answer, the rub for your sick little obsession. You're only drawn to her flame because it burns so hot for someone else. Paint the fire, Brother, but by your own foolishness be prepared to PERISH in it!!!!

"How DARE you!!!!" Klaus roared, murder in his glowing gaze. "Aughhhhhhhh!!!!" He let out a thundering yell, flinging his arm out, knocking several glass jars of paint to the ground, each of them smashing against the white marble floor, red, black, yellow, and blue paint bleeding into each other in a chaos of colour. He stepped forward, and gripped Rebekah's throat, his thumb pressing hard against her jaw, and to his utmost frustration, she continued to smile.

"My, my, jealousy is not a colour I often see you dripping with, Nick, but please, don't claw the messenger. Trifle with your angry, difficult, sour-faced little tart all you wish, but don't forget who first tasted her fire."

"SILENCE," Klaus roared again, his grip tightening on his sister's throat, leaning in dangerously, trying and failing to hide his catching hatred. "Be careful, Little Sister, or I'm going to have to be very unpleasant, and that shan't be fun for either of us."

"I'm only protecting you, you braggart, preventing you from wasting your time on something that's long been won. You'll never have her, Nick, not while Damon Salvatore remains in existence!!!!"

Klaus rubbed his lips together furiously, mischief glinting in his harsh glare.

"Well there's an obvious solution then, isn't there...…..?"

"Please, don't tease. She's not worth it, Nick. If you're going to finally off a Salvatore, and nearly get yourself killed in the process, it should be over something that matters."

"She is the ONLY thing that matters, you spiteful, ridiculous girl!!!"

"I'm being ridiculous? And yet you're the one swooning, and moaning over her, painting and drawing her over and over again like she's the Venus de Milo, all when she could NEVER love you the way she loves him!!!! She'll always choose him, Nicky, always, and I think a part of you already knows that. You hold onto her, like she's your last human breath, but she's not holding you back, now is she? In fact....... You are the ONLY thing keeping her from what she wants most in this world........ HOW can you call those chains anything akin to love!?"

Klaus clamped onto Rebekah's wrist painfully, his hybrid claws emerging, his lip furled with his rising fury, his golden eyes narrowed. "You're REALLY starting to piss me off, Rebekah, and we both know what happens when you upset Big Brother...…"

"Bite me." She seethed, the black veins dancing about her eyes.

"Tempting........ But there are just so many more appealing ways to punish you, Sweetie, beginning with your darling blonde errand boy. Shall I bite him instead? Or is it your old tortured flame that tempts you more these days?" Klaus laughed cruelly, tilting his light-coloured auburn curls, already knowing the answer. "Talk about loving a lost cause....... How does it feel, Sister, to always be the second choice, the consolation prize?"

"YOU tell me!!!! Go on, you preening narcissist!!! Tell me she loves you with all of her thorny heart!!!! Tell me I'm wrong!!!!!" She shot back, trying to get loose of him, but he grabbed her other wrist too, his scruffy angular jaw raised in defiance, his claws holding her in place, and there was a part of him that wanted to mirror what her words had done to him, and rip her heart right out.

"You're. Wrong," He seethed, his jaw clenching, as he moved in closer, the violent heat of his anger, scorching. "Damon Salvatore is her EX, as in EXPELLED from her heart, her mind, her immortal life. She's MINE, now, do you understand? If I asked her to kill him for me, surround him in her fire, she'd DO it, let him burn, for all that damn smart ass Casanova has done, is hurt her something most cruel. Oh yes, she blames Katherine for the slaughter of her family, but it's Damon's hands that drip with their blood, having hurtled her in Katherine's warpath. He brought this devastation down on her, he REJECTED her for that conniving attention whore, and even now he suspects he can win her back with only a smile and a wink, believing with such hubris that's all it takes, when she deserves to be fought for, BLED for!!!!"

Rebekah struggled in his grasp, leaning forward, glaring back. "And you, Brother...… Is it YOU who must bleed for her? She's a weakness, Nick, a bad habit, a lethal dose, and if you don't stop indulging, she's going to get you KILLED!!!!"

"What's this? Rough housing again? Really, what am I going to do with the both of you? Rebekah, whatever nasty thing you've clearly just spat at Niklaus, say you're sorry, and stop pestering him. Niklaus, we've only got the one sister, and being down two brothers, we'd best not end her just yet...…" Elijah swept into the lavish room, the picture of serenity, that is, until he saw the paint smearing the pristine marble floor.

"That's Italian Marble!!!! Oh Brother, what a MESS you've made!"

"He has NO idea," Rebekah smarted back, and Klaus released her with a shove, his once again blue eyes following her coldly as she left the room in a huff.

"Go on, Elijah, swoop in and be the good one, the saintly brother, go comfort our poor sister's hurt feelings like you always do."

"My God, Klaus, Don't be-"

"What? Beastly? Can't help it, Brother, it's in the genes, I'm afraid."

It was then Elijah's calm brown eyes, caught sight of Klaus' fiery rendition of Natalia.

"Oh......... You've painted another one, I see."

Klaus chuckled, shaking his head, not the least bit surprised. Typical Elijah. Predictable to the point of exasperated boredom. "Oh, not you too!!! And here I thought you liked Tal."

"I-I do," Elijah managed, feeling unsettled by the striking eyes in the painting, that seemed to follow him as he paced in the other direction, making a show of fretting over the floor.

"Whatever you're not saying, Elijah, it's deafening." Klaus snarked, snatching up one of his brushes, whisking it furiously in a cup of water.

"You're too close to this one, Niklaus, she's a dire distraction. She has consumed you, tempted your very soul."

"How kind of you, Elijah, to assume I have one," Klaus smiled resentfully, cleansing his brushes with even more fervor.

"Be careful, Niklaus, take measure. She's dangerous, to you, to herself, and to the survival of this world. She threatens us all...... Killing openly in crowds, dissolving like shadow, but the most egregious act thus committed, is how deeply she has rooted herself in your heart, taking hold, stolen her way past your usually sound defenses."

"Calm your fears, Brother, I LIVE for her danger, ache for those comely shadows, and as for the world...…. I'll happily destroy it right alongside her, should she be so inclined. Make no mistake....... I'VE rooted her there, Elijah, that her bloom may flourish, entangled our hearts so neither can be withdrawn without harm to the other. She's right where I want her," He chuckled, caressing his palm along the side of the canvas, marveling at his masterwork. Of all the pieces he'd done featuring Natalia, this one was his favourite. Devil red becomes you, My Spanish Rose.

"You don't mean that!" Elijah insisted vehemently, his unease all the more evident, as he watched his little brother gaze into the danger he loved, the danger he would die for.

"I do. I mean it, Elijah, Tal isn't going anywhere, so you best get comfortable having her around. And Rebekah should learn to play nice with my paramour, else I'll have her grounded, quite literally, in the ground, tucked away warm and safe in her coffin. Now, if you'll excuse me, there was an original Matisse with a gold plated, pearl inlay frame, that might just be far more suited to my own artistry."

Elijah watched with an austere countenance as Klaus collected his portrait, smirking sneakily, and disappeared up the winding spiral staircase. Once he was sure he had gone, Elijah turned heel, and hastened to meet his younger sister in the foyer, attempting to keep his composure to little, practically no avail.

"Oh good. You haven't killed each other yet. How marvelous," Rebekah drawled lazily leaning up against the wall, rubbing her wrist with accusing disdain.

"What ARE you thinking, Rebekah, I said TALK to him, seed doubt of her allegiance, assuage him off her, NOT knowingly bait him, rile him up, get him foaming at the mouth!!!! Have you not been listening!? If you're petulant about Natalia, you'll only drive them closer together."

"I can't help it, I don't like her, and I don't like who he is with her, and I really don't care for your scolding when I've been generous enough to help you."

"You're not helping me, I've already told you, WE'RE helping him."

Rebekah chuckled, running a hand through her long, straight blonde hair, looking amused.

"What? By taking away Niklaus' favourite toy? Really, Elijah, you'd have better luck getting her to fall back in love with Damon Salvatore. Let's say it outright, shall we? You're not helping him, you're helping you. You want him to be a good little soldier, and you know she could do it, get him to leave us, corrupt him in ways the world's not yet ready for, never mind what he'd do to her...… Imagine the power they'd have between them, if he actually got his way. They'd bring the world to its knees, and us along with it.

"It's not altogether a terrible idea...… Throwing Tal at Damon...….. She did love him once, some part of her still must," Elijah mused, his thumb and forefinger resting underneath his chin.

"Oh BRILLIANT, Elijah, My God, you've solved the thing proper this time!!!!!!" Rebekah exclaimed in false praise, her shrill voice rife with sarcasm. "We play Vampire Matchmaker, hurl Natalia into Damon's greedy, skeevy arms, watch our brother drown his sorrows in the blood of everyone living and undead, before staking us both into eternity, perfection, SO happy we worked that up!"

"Well, what method precisely, would you suggest?"

Rebekah smiled with her own glamour and mischief, giving Elijah a knowing look. "You see, that's your problem, Dear Brother, you always go for the noble play, the right way out, when there are far more devious, yet desperately effective options. You want Niklaus to give up his saucy little assassin for good? Well, it's deliciously simple. Turn him against her, convince him she's betrayed him, that she's never loved him. Nothing gets him quite worked up like opening up his miserable heart, only to realize he's being used."

Elijah stared at her aghast. "No. We can't do that to him. Rebekah, really, that's diabolical, even by your standards, to break our brother, thus, just when he's at last learnt to love!"

"You want to buy our brother's loyalty away from that scheming woman, you have to be willing to pay up, Elijah. He'll never choose us over her, unless...… we choose for him."

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Capturing the Devil

Written for day 7 of @jonsadreamofspring to fill the "Free Day"

Jon Snow and his wife Sansa Stark are famous serial killers, but they're still on the loose and free, going after those who had it coming and only have themselves to blame. People like Ramsay Bolton.

serial killer AU // TW: Violence and sexual assault

Some say that every serial killer wants to be caught at some point. Some say that the chase and all the officials slowly catching up with them is part of the thrill. Some say that without the constant treat of being caught dangling above their heads, serial killers wouldn’t feel the same satisfaction they did when they’ve managed to outsmart everyone once more.

In some cases those people were absolutely and totally wrong.

Jon had seen the change in her ever since she had killed Joffrey Baratheon in cold blood. Her back was straighter when she walked through the streets of London and the smile on her face was brighter when she greeted strangers and friends and foes whenever she passed them. She was no longer a little girl determined to prove society that she was capable of far more than they were willing to give her credits for. She was no longer a victim and she was no longer afraid of what lurked in the dark.

He had started killing because he had truly believed that science could bring back the mother he had lost. He had sought out women who wouldn’t be missed and lived horrible lives anyway and had freed them from their misery to take their organs. He had wanted to be caught, deep down knowing that what he did was wrong and that someone had to stop him.

But for her killing was like freeing herself from all the shackles she had worn for way too long. For the first time ever she was in control of her life. And finally she could judge and execute the monsters who could have done whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted for way too long already.

And even though he still needed to kill to satisfy his own hunger and needs, he also found satisfaction in watching her wield her weapons and murder men and boys who deserved it. He had already loved her long before death had buried its claws in her back, but with every kill and every dark night that passed he loved her more and more.

Her bright red hair seemed even redder when she was covered in the blood of her enemies and victims. Her bright blue eyes glimmered whenever she drank in the life of her victim fading away. And the blush on her cheeks and pearls of sweat covering her skin made it almost impossible for him not to touch her.

“Do you know why I am here tonight?” She wore a spotless white dress barely reaching her knees and she straddled the monster beneath her who had no idea what was really coming for him.

Ramsay Bolton still wore that stupid wide grin on his face and he stretched out his hand to touch her cheeks. “I always knew that one day you would change your mind and return to me begging for more.” He pushed himself up and his tongue licked her neck. His hands grabbed her shoulders and his thumbs bruised her pale, but perfect, skin. “They all come back eventually, you know?”

Sansa raised her eyebrows and Jon pressed himself against the wall to hide in the comfortable shadows. She didn’t need his help. She was not a damsel in distress needing rescuing from her husband. She was a femme fatale and the men she played with only realised they were nothing but useless and unneeded toys before it was already too late.

“I assume it is because there is a certain pleasure in pain.” Ramsay grabbed her hair and pulled her closer towards him. “When I twisted your hard nipples between my fingers you screamed, but even you couldn't tell if it was because it hurt or because you enjoyed it so much.” To prove his point he grabbed her breast and squeezed it firmly. “Shall I do it again, Sansa Snow-Stark?” He spoke softly and yet Jon could still hear him loud and clear. “It can be our little secret. No need for your husband to ever find out.”

Jon tensed all his muscles. He clenched his jaw and his fists and yet he still didn’t interfere. He knew what was coming for Ramsay Bolton. He knew what fate was waiting for the man who thought he was invincible and immortal. If Ramsay Bolton wouldn’t have been one of the many monsters scarring his beautiful bride, Jon even would have felt sorry for him. Now the moment couldn’t come soon enough, but he knew that Sansa liked to take her time.

Sansa shook her head. Her ponytail danced on top of her head and her hands tenderly wandered down Ramsay’s arms. “You are wearing too many clothes still, my lord.” She smiled when she tightened the rope, attached to the bed, around his wrist. “And Jon has taught me a few tricks I want to share with you too.” Quickly she attached his other wrist to the bedframe too. “I’m sure you can appreciate them.”

It was only when she stood up and tied his ankles to the bed too that Ramsay Bolton seemed to understand that something was off, that something was entirely wrong. The grin on his face faded and panic clouded his eyes. “What are you doing, lady Sansa?” His voice sounded a few tones higher than usual and Sansa crossed her arms over her chest while she put a dirty cloth in his mouth. Ramsay Bolton was at her mercy now. But there wouldn’t be any mercy today. Not for him.

“Jon?” Sansa held out her hand. “My knife, please.”

He stepped out of the comforting shadows and he saw Ramsay’s eyes widen when he placed the cold and sharp knife in Sansa’s hand.

“Any wishes concerning what I shall remove first?” Sansa walked back to the bed and once more she straddled the now completely powerless Ramsay Bolton. “I propose we start with the clothes.” Carelessly she started cutting the fabric. The sharp tip of her knife pierced Ramsay’s skin more than once and drops of blood rolled over his skin and stained the sheets.

“Oops…” Sansa smiled when eventually Ramsay Bolton lied entirely naked and bloodied under her. “I’m quite certain your servants have experience with bloodied sheets, right?” She cocked her head and then she looked over her shoulder.

Jon locked his glance with hers and he nodded. Even though he had killed to bring his mother back alive. And even though she killed to deal with the devils haunting her nightmares. In the end they killed for the exact same reason. To fill a void.

“Do you know what Jon likes for dinner most?” Sansa hissed between her teeth and then she curled her fingers around Ramsay’s dick. “Sausages.” She let the knife circle around the base. “And Theon told us about your secret recipe.” She cut deeper and for the first time ever tears rolled down Ramsay’s cheeks. “We however miss the key ingredient. But you are totally willing to help us with that, aren’t you?”

Ramsay shook his head, but nothing Ramsay did could change anything.

Jon knew exactly what Sansa would do. He had listened to her dreaming about it for months now. And each time her revenge grew more cruel and violent. A good husband maybe would have stopped her, would have told her to go for the easy kill. But he was not a good husband. He hadn’t been ever since he had invited death to claim his soul and had awakened the monster longing for blood in his own body.

With her tongue between her slightly parted lips she wielded her knife and a few minutes later she dangled Ramsay’s dick above his own head. “Want a taste of your own meat, my Lord?” Her hand moved to the gag, but at the very last moment she pulled her hand back. “I am afraid there is already too little for both me and Jon. I don’t want to waste anything on you.”

Jon chuckled and with his arms crossed he leaned against the wall. Sometimes there was a part of him feeling guilty about dragging her along with him, about bringing the darkness into her home and into her head and into her heart. But when he saw her like this that regret disappeared immediately. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his own veins when he watched her cut off Ramsay's nipples, one by one and agonisingly slow.

Then she moved on to Ramsay’s toes, to his fingers, to his ears and his lips. And all the while she kept talking to him. She reminded him of all the people he had killed, hurt or left scarred. She made him pay for every crime he had committed. And just when there was barely any life left in him because he had lost way too much blood and way too many body parts she pressed the cold knife to his throat.

“I should actually leave you here to bleed out slowly.” Her voice was hoarse from all the talking. “Because you don’t deserve a quick death.” She put some more pressure on the knife and it was hard to say if the blood dripping down his neck was from a new wound or from an old one. “But I am not you, Ramsay Bolton.” All of a sudden she slashed his throat. “In the end, I do have mercy.”

For a moment she just sat there motionless, then Jon walked towards her and sat down behind her. While Sansa dropped the knife he pressed her warm and bloodied body to his chest and his lips kissed her hair. “Whoever thinks they need to be afraid of me, hasn’t met you yet.” He felt her leaning back and he embraced her even tighter. “I'm afraid we will also have to kill the staff and Miranda. After all, they do know that you have been here.”

“They are all yours, Jon.” Sansa closed her eyes and she wrapped an arm around his neck. “I am satisfied.” She smiled. “For now.”

[hunflowers]

maybe i’m the worst writer and/or person on this website because i can’t even remember the last time i posted a writing on here so here’s something else in the mean time while i’m still writing part 2 of femme fatale. and whew! it gets hot *nose boops*

You were pissed.

Pissed wasn’t even the proper word to explain how you were feeling, but something along the lines of pissed. And maybe you were being irrational, because it wasn’t the biggest problem but again, you were still mad at him.

It had been three weeks since you last saw him. Three weeks. You missed him immensely and for all of the three weeks that he had been away, you longed for him to be back in your arms. Every morning you woke, you wanted a small good morning kiss, through out the day you wanted to squeeze him, and before you went to bed you wanted him to cuddle you.

Not to mention, you had three weeks worth of pent up sexual frustration buzzing through you. You had promised him that you wouldn’t touch yourself the entirety of his departure, but to be fair, when you made the deal he had say he would only be away for a week. Then a week turned into two, then three. You were aching to be touched and you couldn’t even give yourself that satisfaction.

You had expressed this concern to him over the phone a few times but he laughed it off and reminded you that you had a deal. And the only reason you had made the deal in the first place was because he said imagine the sex when he’s back, and the thought of how he would ravage you made your mouth water.

So, when he finally walked through the door of your home and you were giddy to see him, not because you finally got to squish his cheeks and kiss him whenever you wanted, but you were beyond excited to feel his hands on you and his cock inside you.

He got home pretty late that night so you let it slide and just assumed he’d have his way the next day. But then another day went by of nothing, and then another, and then another. You had insinuated something a few times but each time he found an excuse to post pone it. And the last time he denied you, you saw the faintest smirk settle on his lips before he went back to his stoic facial expression.

So, yeah you were angry, and you finally exploded.

It was ten in the morning and you were fed up with his antics, so you waited by the front door when you knew he would be coming home from his daily morning run. Your arms were crossed over your chest like a child, a scowl practically set in stone on your face.

When he finally walked through the door, he was a little surprised to see you there standing, but then you saw his mouth perk up into a not so subtle smirk this time. He knew why you were angry, he was practically proud of how worked up you were, so he smiled and kissed the top of your head quickly before walking away and to the kitchen to grab a drink.

You pursed your lips and held back a growl and stomped your way after him, meeting him in the kitchen with your arms still crossed over your chest. Finishing pouring himself a glass of orange juice, his eyebrow rose in wonder, waiting for you to say something.

And when you continued to stare him down, he decided to be the one to speak up. “What’s up, baby?”

Not your dick, and that’s the problem, you thought.

“Isn’t there something you want to do? With me? Y’know, your girlfriend?”

He looked up to the ceiling in fake thought, pursing his lips in concentration as he thought of an answer. He first shrugged his shoulders and shook his head but then followed up with, “Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you want to try this new restaurant in town. Couple of friends went there the other night, said it was pretty good, figured we could try it out.”

You were stunned. Stunned at how cryptic he was, because dinner together sounded lovely, but that was no where near what you meant and you knew he knew that. So, then you dropped your arms with a sigh, your scowl being replaced with a pout as you tried to work over his emotions. Maybe now he’ll feel bad and fuck you over the island countertop. You could only hope.

“Anything else?”

Again he shook his head, finishing off the remainder of his orange juice before putting the glass in the sink to clean later. “M’gonna take a shower,” he announced, walking past you a giving your hip a small squeeze before he took two steps at a time to get upstairs.

You nearly screamed.

Nearly.

Fine, if he didn’t want to do anything, then you’ll take matters into your own hands. The deal was while he was away you couldn’t please yourself, but he’s home, so deal’s off.

You followed after him and to your bedroom, rolling your eyes at the trail of clothes that littered the floor before they disappeared behind the closed ensuite bathroom door. You heard him humming under the stream of water, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the vision of his naked body glistening as water trailed down every muscle and over every inch of soft skin.

Lying on your back on the king sized bed, you quickly tugged off your pajama bottoms and underwear, kicking them off the edge of the bed, hearing them fall against the wood. You pushed your tank top up your abdomen and over your boobs, not fully taking it off as your one hand began to tweak at your nipples and the other trailed down your stomach, fingers ghosting over your clit and sliding between your folds.

It felt so good to finally have contact, even if it was your own hand. You felt wetness already seep out of your hole, coating your fingertips. Dipping one finger into your pussy, you moaned at the feeling while your thumb began to gently work slow circles on your bundle of nerves.

Harry was right, three weeks of abstinence had your mind swirling in pleasure at just the faintest of touches, and you planned on letting him know that. You let out a loud and drawn out moan as you pushed in another finger, pumping them faster against your walls while your thumb continued to rub against your clit.

And maybe it was a bit dramatic, but you heard the shower turn off not even ten seconds later and you figured you’d done your job right. You heard his feet patter against the tile floor inside and you smirked to yourself before letting out another moan, this time not for Harry’s sake, but genuinely as you curled your fingers inside of you, petting your walls like he would.

Then you heard the door open feverishly and his feet marching across the wood before stopping to where you assume to be right in front of you since your eyes were closed. Just as your toes curled into the sheets and your mouth opened to let out a string of curses, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, halting your movements.

Your eyes fly open in fake shock, quickly taking in his naked, wet, heavenly body. You wanted to whine but he was quick to leave you speechless as he took your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs now off the bed and pulling you so you were sat upright. His stature loomed over you and if you weren’t angry at him, you’d be beyond nervous at his pissed off look. Droplets of water dripped off the tips of his hair, falling down to your face, stomach, and legs as he looked at you with squinted eyes, jaw clenched and lips pursed.

“And what, do you think you’re doing, darling?” He seethed, hand wrapping into your hair and tugging your head back forcefully so you were looking directly up at him. “Thought I made it clear you weren’t to touch yourself without my permission.”

You squinted your own eyes at him, glaring daggers at him that didn’t seem to faze him as he just pulled the roots of your hair harder. “Well, if you won’t touch me, figured I have to do it myself.”

He let out a petty laugh, shaking his head slightly as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. Then in one very quick motion, Harry sat himself on the edge of the bed and threw you over his lap, your tits squished against his broad thigh, as your hips rested against his other.

His fist remained wrapped in your hair while he delivered the first blow to your ass, jolting you against his thighs. You whimpered at the contact, but on the inside you were jumping with joy that he was finally giving you the attention you craved.

“Think you’re being a bit of a brat. I’ll touch you when I want to, not when you want me to. Now count,” and then he delivered a harder slap to your opposite cheek.

When you didn’t count as quick as he wanted, he slapped your pussy with almost as much force as your butt, and you cried at the pain. You tried to squirm away from the sting but he he held you in place.

“Count.”

You were quick to respond this time, not daring to receive another slap to your sensitive center. He continued the punishment until you received ten hits on each cheek, your bottom feeling like it was on fire. You could only imagine how red it was.

By the end, one tear managed to escape your eye and you let out a small sniffle but you were far from upset. It was just your body’s natural reaction to the pain. But, really you were thriving and you couldn’t wait for what was next.

He pulled you off of him by your hair, shoving you to the floor in front of him so you rest on your knees. And you had wood flooring too, but you imagine Harry wasn’t going to give you the benefit of the doubt and wouldn’t give you a pillow to kneel on.

He noticed the trail the one tear left on your cheek, and he cocked his head to the side as his thumb quickly swiped away the moisture. But you knew he wasn’t in anyway ready to be nice to you again.

After a few moments of staring you down, eyes roaming over the features of your face. His thumb traced over the soft skin of your cheek and then your lips before pushing into your mouth, to which you immediately began sucking. Harry admired the way you were quick to be obedient even if you did put yourself into trouble. Almost as if you were apologizing for being a brat even though you would never formally apologize for that.

And that made this all the more fun for him because now he felt less bad about putting you in your place.

“You want me to touch you?” He murmured, enjoying the feeling of your tongue flattening against the underside of his thumb, like you do his cock. You nodded your head softly, eyes looking up at him wide and eager.

He cooed at you, pulling his thumb from your warm mouth but keeping it on your lips so your mouth was slightly agape. If he had his phone on him, he would love to capture the sight in front him. All of this time his dick had been sitting proudly, hardening even more every time you blinked up at him and looked at him innocently through your lashes.

Wrapping his free hand around his cock, he hissed at the feeling, his thumb skimming over his red tip that leaked with precum. Gesturing down to his cock, you knew what he wanted as his hand removed itself from your jaw and back into your hair. Closing your mouth to build up saliva, you spit onto his tip, watching as he gathered it and slid his hand up and down his shaft.

“Been leaving you hanging for almost a month, must be desperate, hm?”

You nodded quickly, humming in agreement as your eyes continued to watch the movement of his hand, wishing he was buried deep inside your walls. Harry wished it too, but he couldn’t let you get what you wanted this simply.

Pulling at your hair so your eyes met up with his again, he smirked at you with a sinister look in his eyes before whispering, “Too bad. Now, open that pretty mouth, darling.”

You obliged, opening your jaw as far as you could before he pushed your head down until you were halfway down his length. You tried to breathe in rapidly through your nose as he pulled you off to his tip before thrusting his hips so you sank farther than halfway.

Harry groaned at the feeling of him weighing down your tongue, enjoying the way you choked around him, your throat contracting against him as each thrust he pushed himself further into your mouth.

Keeping your head still with his hands, he lifted his hips off the bed repeatedly, gaining a steady rhythm as he fucked your throat. Your eyes watered as you felt his tip hit against the back of your throat again and again, but again, you were actually quite enjoying this rather than being in pain like your body insinuated.

His velvet skin slid past your lips continuously, each time coming out shinier as your saliva coated him. He let out numerous hisses and curses, eyes screwing in euphoric pleasure as you gagged and choked.

“Shit, fuck, that’s my good girl. You’re taking me so good.”

You wanted to cheer in triumphant because even though he was fucking you, you still felt this sense of control as he lost himself in the warmth of your mouth. Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his skin and most likely leaving indents but you needed something to take your mind off the burn of your throat.

Harry’s head rolls back as he lets out his loudest moan yet, retracting himself from your mouth fully for a brief moment, giving you a second to breathe again. But, then he just pushed himself past your lips again hitting against your throat roughly, causing you to choke harshly.

He removes himself again, a trail of saliva connecting you to him before it falls against your chin. You gasp in deep breathes as he’s quick to grip under your arms, tugging you up from the floor and onto the bed, stomach down. You didn’t even realize how painful kneeling against the floor was until you felt relieved to be on the soft sheets of your bed.

“You’re okay, right?” He murmurs in your ear as he hovers over your back, and you weakly nod your head against the mattress. He waits a moment for you to catch your breath before you feel his fingers drag down the back of your thighs, pushing them further apart.

“You’re soaked, baby. You like having your throat fucked, don’t you?” He asked in astonishment, one finger pushing into your dripping hole before exiting just as fast.

Then he slapped your thighs, making you jump at the contact. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, shuttering at the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your pussy.

“Cute.”

And the next thing you know, he’s thrusting himself to the hilt in your cunt, a groan of pleasure leaving both of your throats. You cried as he fastened his movements, hips thrusting at a faster pace than when he was buried in your mouth.

His chest rested against your back, face planted in the crook of your neck while his hands held your hips up so he could get as deep as could into you. His one hand wrapped around your front so it held you up while he rubbed furious circles on your clit, leaving no room for mercy.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Waited so long for me to wreck you, baby?” He asked, hardly waiting for you to answer before he pounded his hardest thrust into you.

Then he sat himself up and pulled you up with him so your back was still connected to his chest. His one hand against pulled at the tips of your hair, your head laying against his shoulder as you whined at the feeling of him pushing himself even deeper inside of you – if that was even possible at this point.

“H. . . please,” you choke out, hardly knowing how to form any words with the continuous attack on your body.

Connecting his lips to yours, you moved your mouths together feverishly and sloppily, tongues moving in sync as best they could while your body continued to jolt forward with each snap of his hips.

The tension in your tummy continued to grow and you were itching for a release, desperately wanting to feel the coil finally unwind. When your walls clenched down on his cock, Harry knew you were close and that’s when he separated your lips and halted his movements inside you. But, his fingers didn’t stop their mind numbing strokes against your clit, and instead they seemed to move faster.

“Wanna cum, Y/N?”

“Plea–”

“Not yet.”

He snapped his hips against you harshly, the squelching sound of your bodies connecting sending you into a frenzy. You whined at his denial, trying your best to keep yourself together but it was proving to be difficult as he kept hitting that special spot inside of you.

You felt him twitch inside of you and you knew he was just about ready to explode too, and when you felt his hot breath hitting against the shell of your ear, and he stilled himself inside of you, you knew it was time to come undone.

“Next time, you won’t get to cum at all,” he hissed, before delivering one final thrust that sent the both of you over the edge.

You both let out loud curses and moans as you shook together, your bodies falling forward and giving out as you rode out your highs. You let out deep pants as your eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion. It was just the morning yet you felt the need to fall asleep into a deep slumber.

For a couple of minutes, neither of you exchanged words as you tried to regain your composure. You felt so happy as Harry’s forehead laid against your shoulder, gentle breaths fanning over your skin.

Just when you think you’ve fallen into a peaceful sleep you hear Harry mutter, “Think m’gonna have to have another shower.”

[feargender]

like real people do

read here on ao3

Rita practically bounces through the spaceport, her sequined orange carry on bag banging against her calf with every other step while Juno drags both of their luggage along behind.

“Mars: what a dump! I’ve missed it,” she throws her arms wide, nearly clobbering a teenager heading in the opposite direction. Juno groans, but Peter links his arm with hers and leads them toward the shuttle that will carry them back to Hyperion City.

“Oh yeah, you two go ahead, I don’t need a hand or anything,” Juno says to the backs of their heads.

“I did offer...” Peter begins to say, but then realizes Juno has already committed to being annoyed and leaves it be. He’s been grumpy since Neptune, most likely about returning to Mars after so long away.

“Cheer up, Mistah Steel! I’m seeing my mom tomorrow,” Rita informs him as they step onto the shuttle with the rest of the tired commuters. Juno slouches against the support rail as the shuttle jerks into motion, zipping over the burnt red sands toward the glistening Dome of Hyperion in the distance. He grabs Rita’s arm to steady her when the sudden momentum sends her tripping over his shoes.

“My mom’s dead,” he grumbles, gazing into the middle distance.

When Rita looks to Peter for help, he only shrugs. “I never knew my mother.” She narrows her eyes and huffs, looking out over the face of their mostly dead planet with a dull glare.

“Go-lly, Mistah Steel, it’s lunch, not a funeral,” Rita bumps her hip against Juno’s as they walk up the street toward the small diner Rita’s mother had picked for lunch. As soon as they arrived at the hotel the previous evening, Rita had been all too happy to call her mother and tell her that she’d be bringing two guests on their lunch date. All while Juno had made increasingly violent hand gestures in her direction. Peter, as ever, only walks along serenely, as if he’d rather be absolutely nowhere else than shuffling down the crowded sidewalk at half past noon on a Wednesday. It’s a skill Juno is nowhere near possessing, and what makes Peter such a good thief: he is almost incapable of not belonging. If meeting Rita’s mother is not how he’d like to spend one of his only free days planetside, it’s impossible to tell.

He squeezes Juno’s fingers where their hands are clasped between them and Juno smiles weakly at Rita. “Sorry,” he says, “thanks for… inviting us.” Rita grins at him.

“Aw, you’re welcome, Mistah Steel. Anyway, my ma’s been wanting to meet you forever. I told her you’re a real prickly type and that it would never happen, but then I was thinkin’, everyone deserves to know a great mom, even if it isn’t your own great mom, and yours wasn’t all that great, so it would probably be nice to bring you along,” she explains, “And you, too, Mistah Glass!” It’s added almost as an afterthought. “You’re pretty good at making Mistah Steel less prickly.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m glad you think so,” Peter replies, and Juno scoffs. Nothing could make him less prickly, and they all know it.

A few moments later they swing into The Upper Crust, a small sandwich shop crammed between two large office buildings. At this time of day, it’s nearly at capacity, but a woman who looks exactly what Juno imagines Rita will in thirty or so years waves from a small booth wedged up against the window facing the street. Juno is grateful, claustrophobia already making his hairline bead with sweat. He slides into the booth first, across from Rita’s mother and Peter follows.

Rita leans in and hugs her mother tightly, while her mother says things about how nice she looks and how long it’s been. They do that for so long, exchanging greetings and pleasantries, that Juno gets a tad uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Peter rests a hand on his leg, not looking at him, and smiles winningly when they pull apart and Rita’s mother looks at them both.

“Ma, this is Juno Steel and Rex Glass! Mistah Steel, Mistah Glass, this is my mom, Delilah!” Rita says, finally falling into the booth as they all shake hands.

Delilah holds onto Juno’s hand for a beat, regarding him closely. Juno tries not to feel self-conscious, knowing that there isn’t much to criticize. He’s wearing a clean shirt and a pair of shiny dangling earrings, which may have been obtained honestly, as they came from one of Peter’s many coat pockets, but that isn’t obvious. He’s traded in his old dusty tan trench coat for a black one with a better fit and higher thread count, to look less like a “private eye sore” as Peter had so gently put it. He doesn’t even have any visible bruises, which is impressive itself. He can scarcely go a week without someone socking him in the jaw.

“Nice to meet you,” she finally says, letting him go. He feels like he passed some sort of secret test, because then she smiles. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Detective.”

Juno sees Rita blushing out of the corner of his eye, and silently prays that she hasn’t heard too much, as Rita says, “He’s not a private investigator anymore, Ma.” Juno cuts his gaze to Rita in time to see her snap her teeth together. Delilah knows that her daughter has been spending a great deal of time off planet, obviously, but it’s clear that Rita has not come up with a lie strong enough to explain this away, yet.

Luckily, Peter cuts in. “He consults on cases with Dark Matters now. I’m afraid that’s why Juno and Rita have been spending so much time away from home,” he says. He dives deep into a pocket and draws out a badge, the same one Juno saw when they first met. He winces internally at the sight, using the same alias and story on a planet where that particular cover has already been blown is… risky. Delilah takes the badge and examines it, though Juno can tell by her expression that she wouldn’t know how to determine it as false or not. She’s merely curious: Dark Matters is something of a novelty. And if she’s anything at all like Rita, she loves novelty.

But then she hands the badge back and rounds on Rita, who is suddenly very investing in the menu. “That sounds awfully dangerous,” Delilah says, expression sharp on Rita, who looks up sheepishly.

“I was gonna tell you! But, I mean, it’s Dark Matters. Everything is classified and I didn’t know how much I could say and the… comms… wasn’t secure!” Rita flounders, but Peter only nods seriously.

“It is a very tight lipped operation, Mrs. Delilah.” Juno finds himself nodding gravely also, drawn into Peter’s rouse easily.

“Well, I suppose it can’t be worse than running down dark alleys around here,” Delilah allows, and Juno snorts, nodding.

“I never ran down the dark alleys, Ma, that’s all Mistah Steel. Like in this stream I was watching the other day, a real detective noir thing about this femme fatale Anastasia Laurel Pierce,” and then Rita’s off, and Delilah listens like a woman who has had decades of experience in parsing Rita’s stories. Juno leans back in his seat, letting Rita’s voice wash over him like background noise, looking at Peter. He has his chin in his hand and seems to be listening also, but glances over when he feels Juno’s eye on him and smiles.

Eventually the waiter makes their way over and apologizes for the wait, before disappearing again for almost twenty minutes to collect their drinks, and then comes back to apologize again and take their order. Rita’s mother taps her toe a bit impatiently at this, but turns to Juno. For a while he had gone by mostly unnoticed, Rita and Peter talking enough for the three of them. Not that Juno is normally soft spoken; if he were, he might have gotten less of his teeth knocked out of his head. As it is, approximately a third of them are implants.

However, it seems that his turn to speak has arrived. “Have you lived in Hyperion City your entire life, Mr. Steel?” she asks politely, and Juno tenses despite himself. It’s a simple question, but thinking about Hyperion City at all tends to make his head hurt.

“Yes, ma’am,” he manages.

“What part are you from?” she presses, and Juno winces before saying, “Old Town.”

Thankfully, the food comes after that and Peter redirects the conversation around to some completely fabricated story about Ancient Martian ruins, because Peter’s only real story about Ancient Martian ruins isn’t fit for the lunch table.

Juno learns that Rita was initially going to be a computer scientist, and then a special effects makeup artist, and then an opera singer. After realizing she couldn’t sing at all, she started filling out random ads in the local work sites until she ended up interviewing with some police detective.

“I was not drunk at that interview,” Juno insists over the rim of his drink glass.

“You were! You wandered around rambling nonsense for twenty minutes, said you’d give me the job, then nearly fell over. I drove you home, Mistah Steel. Don’t you remember?” Rita says, giggling.

“If he was that drunk, then likely not,” Peter says, nudging Juno with his elbow. Even Delilah is laughing, now, and Juno can’t help but crack a small smile.

“Yeah, well, I had just been discharged from the HCPD, I wasn’t feeling so great,” Juno allows.

By the time the check arrives, most of the lunch rush has cleared out. Delilah leaves first, hugging Rita tightly before turning on Juno and pulling him into a hug of his own. He tenses up from his toes to his eyebrows, but doesn’t struggle, hovering his arms awkwardly about an inch above her back until she releases him. Peter does better with his turn, patting her back and wishing her well. Once she’s gone, Rita turns on him with a grin.

“That went real well, Mistah Steel,” she says, wrapping her hands around his arm. “You didn’t even say anything awful.”

“Yeah, well,” Juno says, “I like to save saying awful things for the second meeting.”

“No, you don’t,” Peter says, shrugging into his coat.

“No, I don’t,” Juno agrees.

“Thank you for trying, boss. I think she liked you,” Rita continues as they exit out of the building.

“I liked her, too,” Juno says, surprised at the fact that it’s the truth. It isn’t just his mother that he doesn’t like. Sarah Steel had managed to poison her entire species, rendering Juno nearly incapable of tolerating any mothers at all. But he can tell that Delilah is good to Rita, and that’s enough for him.

At the intersection before the hotel, Rita departs for a shopping trip, leaving Peter and Juno alone. “You did well, Juno,” Peter remarks at the crosswalk, taking his hand again.

“So did you, Agent Glass,” Juno says, arching the eyebrow not covered by his eyepatch.

“I spent a lot of time cultivating that persona, seems a shame to let it go to waste. Especially if it keeps Rita out of trouble,” Peter says dismissively.

“Her mom doesn’t exactly seem the type to support a life of intergalactic crime,” Juno agrees.

“We can’t all be police officers,” Peter replies mournfully, giving Juno a private smile as they enter the hotel lobby.

“But we can all impersonate police officers,” Juno says, and is rewarded with Peter’s full laugh.

They enter the transparent elevator, and to avoid looking at the rapidly retreating floor beneath him, Juno looks out at the Dome-tinged sky, and the barely visible red sand beyond, and realizes that he didn’t really miss the Martian view at all. The entirety of Hyperion City’s dirty laundry spreading out below him, and he’s content to leave it there to air out itself. Someone else in his apartment, his office, his car (if it hadn’t been hauled off to the dump immediately). And they can keep it. He’s happy to be so far above it now.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Juno grunts, leaning his back against Peter to avoid leaning against the fragile feeling glass.

Peter gives him a funny sort of smile, but says only, “Me, too.”