#imagine your three friends are the only things you have left and you're so terrified of what would happen if they left

[feymarche]

hes lincoln li wilson............. hes just twelve years old.......... two years ago he was just twelve plus two........ thirteen.............................

[frantic-fiction]

Reunions

(Pic: lovelybluebirdie) I cropped it a bit

Astarion x gn!reader, Astarion x reincarnated!Tav

Summary: A few months after reconnecting to your past life as Tav, a party is set to meet the rest of the group. You're nervous, worried about not living up to who you once were. Will you be enough?

This is a little part 2 of I'll Find My Way Back to You

Notes/ Warning: Pretty much just fluff. Reader is insecure. Astarion is a supportive partner. I kept all 6 origin characters alive because it's my story and I don't want to imagine any of them dead. Also, Halsin's here cause druids live to be like a thousand or whatever.

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

You're not panicking. Why would you be? It's not like you're meeting a group of people you've only met in dreams—a group of strangers you've painted for the better part of your existence- a family forged through hardship from a past life you're still trying to remember fully.

No, you're not panicking. You're not scared that the people who are so excited to see you will not like what they see. You're not terrified the family Astarion has helped you remember will look at you disappointed once they realize you are no longer the Tav they once knew. You're not worried at all. Not. One. Bit.

You spent the afternoon cleaning the house from top to bottom. It was sparkling, and your fingers ached from the hours of scrubbing you filled in the restless day with. No surface was left untouched. Bookshelves were dusted, baseboards were spotless, and even the top of the cupboards, where no one would ever see, were wiped down. The floors were swept and mopped three times now, but you keep finding spots you missed. Astarion even physically stopped you from scaling the roof to clean the chimney when you ran out of things to occupy yourself with.

There's a roast in the oven, potatoes, and veggies cooking alongside it, and a pie cooling on the counter. You wanted to cook more, but you were worried that not everyone would like blueberries or that someone had turned to a plant-based diet. Astarion quickly reminded you that they used to eat food out of dusty barrels and mildewed chests.

Currently, you stand in front of your floor-length mirror. Astarion is out on a quick hunt before the party arrives, leaving you to obsess over your thoughts of inadequacy. The majority of your closet littered the floor. You're scrutinizing a simple tunic and legging combo. Was it too simple? Should you wear something more eye-catching?

You're trying to remember what Tav would have worn. All you can recall is blood-stained armor and simple camp clothes. But this occasion garners something more. Fuck. Stripping off the current outfit, you replace it with an almost identical one and look at yourself in the mirror again. You weren't sure what you expected, maybe to magically love this pair of pants and old tunic. But in reality, you were just as frustrated and worried.

The clothes weren't the problem, you knew that, but it was easier to be pissed at a blouse than to accept that you were scared. You were frightened to face Astarion and Tav's friends. You have Tav's memories and feel an odd kinship with these people. But you weren't Tav, and you would never be them, at least not entirely.

You felt like an imposter to try and convince anyone otherwise. Tears of frustration and disappointment in yourself began to trail down your cheeks. How could a silly artist hold a candle to the kind and heroic savior of Baldur's Gate? You glared at yourself, wishing things could have been different.

You jump when you feel cold arms wrap around your torso and a warm kiss at the nape of your neck. Astarion loved to use his lack of reflection to sneak up on you. You, on the other hand, hated it. Still, you found yourself leaning back into his firm chest.

"Hello, my love,"

You try to stop the pathetic sniffle, but it's useless. Astarion turns you in his arms and cups your jaw. "Darling," is all he says because he knows. Of course, he knows.

That simple pet name causes the floodgates to open, and you crumple into Astarion's chest, nuzzling his neck. He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body. Astarion lets you cry, knowing how nervous you've been for this meetup.

He rubs soft circles on the small of your back and peppers kisses to the crown of your head. "You can talk to me,"

"W-what if they don't li-like me?"

Astarion moves you both to the bed, skirting around the mess you made. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap to look you in the eyes better. "Why wouldn't they love you?" He prompts, not wanting to push you.

"Star, you know why. I'm not Tav," you hiccup, and you're positive the words you're speaking are incoherent. "I have their memories and some of their mannerisms and…and I'm also allergic to bees, but I'm not them. What if they hate me because I'm not Tav."

Astarion pecks your lips to halt your panicked words. He wipes the tears from your damp face. "No, you are not Tav, but they are part of you. They live in your art, laugh, and kind heart."

"But wha-"

"Let me finish, my love," Astarion smiles, brushing some hair behind your ear. "No one expects you to be Tav. We all love them deeply, but Tav's gone." He swallows hard, the words still hard to voice for him.

Astarion kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and continues to pepper kisses over your face, catching stray tears. "They just want to get to know the beautiful artist I fell in love with. Gale's big mouth might have let them know more about our history than I would have liked, but that doesn't change anything."

"And if they don't like the person you fell in love with?" You ask softly.

"Then fuck all of them. I love you, and if they don't love you as well, then they have no place in my life." His eyes pierce deep into yours, and there's no denying the truth of his words. You are overcome with a wave of love for your vampire and kiss him softly once more. "Now come, my love, by the smell, your roast is done."

"Shit!" You jump off his lap and rush out of the room, self-doubt pushed to the side.

*

The roast is fine if slightly burnt on the top. It looked juicy and smelled amazing. The vegetables are mush, but the potatoes are tender and seasoned well. It's not your best meal, but there's nothing you can do to fix it now. You left it on the counter to rest and found Astarion in the living room.

He was rehanging one of your paintings- the one you drew late last year after waking up in a cold sweat. It was a complete picture of the party standing on a dock overlooking the Grey Harbor just as the sun rose above the horizon. Astarion helps you fill in the gaps, telling you that this followed the fall of the Absolute.

"What are you doing?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the wall. You had hidden away most of your art, too embarrassed by the sheer number of canvases depicting the guest due here any minute.

Astarion finishes hanging the painting above the fireplace and turns to you. "I liked this one and thought I'd put it back."

Before you could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Your stomach instantly dropped, and your heart beat hard in your chest. As if sensing your rising anxiety, Astarion moved to your side, his large palm finding the small of your back.

He swiftly kisses your cheek. "One word and I'll throw them all out."

Astarion leaves you and walks to answer the door. Your palms are sweating, and you rub them down your thighs. You take a few deep breaths and pace the room. Not knowing what else to do, you idly fluff up the decorative pillows of the couch and stall.

"Pull yourself together." You mumbled under your breath. You hear the sounds of multiple footsteps, and you know they're all here.

Why did Astarion request for them to arrive all at once? You're still not sure. But you're suddenly very pissed at him for his decision. Having all of them looking upon you like an art exhibit terrifies you.

"My dear," Astarion pokes his head into the room, a warm smile adorning his sharp features. "Would you like to meet our guest?"

You swallowed hard and nodded. Putting on a brave smile, you rounded the couch and reached for Astarion's hand. Threading his fingers with yours, you curled around his arm like a lifeline.

Moving out into the foyer, you shyly look at the group before you. Gale, given the circumstances of your and Astarion's meeting, you had already met. He had relentlessly bothered Astarion until an introduction was made between you and the wizard. But you've only seen the others in the paintings you've made and the dreams you've seen.

Karlach bounced on her feet, Wyll smiling brightly behind her left shoulder. Haslin stood by the door, a beautifully sculpted wooden bear in his arms. Shadowheart stood beside him, her face passive but relaxed and almost pleased. Lae'zel was the farthest from the group, brooding in the corner, looking at you suspiciously. Still, she even loosened her tense shoulders and stepped forward upon your entry.

"Um, hi." You waved meekly, giving them your name, cringing when your voice cracked.

It's quiet for a moment too long, and you're a step away from fleeing when Karlach skips over to you.

"Can I hug you?!" She almost yells, shaking her fists excitedly.

"Karlach!" Astarion scolds. The Tiefling had, by the looks of it, broken a rule he had set for your comfort.

"Sorry, sorry." Karlach's smile fades, and she moves to retreat. Your heart clenches, and it's like your body moves on instinct. You detach from Astarion before you can think, and then your arms are around her waist. Her scalding heat seeps into your bones and listen to the cranks of her engine.

"Hi Karlach," you whispered into her torso. The wind squeezed from your body, and your feet were off the ground.

"It's nice to finally meet you! The letters fangs write didn't do you justice."

Quickly, the group connects like magnets. Wyll crowds in and hugs you from behind, pressing you closer to Karlach. Gale piles on after, then Halsin. Shadowheart nudges her way between the men and apologizes on behalf of everyone but gives you an equally tight squeeze. The group even wrangles Astarion and Lae'zel into this group hug.

These people are supposed to be strangers, but having them close, seeing this family you've watched through someone else's memories for most of your life right before you. It fills you with familiar warmth and affection and has tears of joy in your eyes. You might not be Tav, not entirely, but you still have a place in this little family.

"Um…excuse me, I can't breathe." You squeak out after a moment of suffocation, and the group is quick to disperse.

Wiping away the lingering dampness from your cheek, you take a moment to compose yourself, clearing your throat with a subtle grace. Your hand instinctively finds its way back, and Astarion swiftly recovers it, his touch reassuring. Soft circles dance on the back of your hand, a silent question lingering in his gaze, seeking affirmation that you're all right. You respond with a nod and a comforting squeeze of his hand.

"Ah, well…" you chuckle with a hint of self-awareness. "I have a roast with everyone's names on it. And a blueberry pie; Astarion found a wild patch on one of his hunts."

"Thank the gods, I'm famished," Wyll sighs, his appetite evident as he sniffs the air dreamily. A nudged Karlach sets the communal movement toward the dining room in motion.

Astarion emerges with the wine, gracefully pouring glasses of red for everyone. Gale, the sole visitor to your home beforehand, takes charge of the table settings. With a flick of his fingers and a whispered incantation, plates and silverware align harmoniously. The stage set, the food emerges, and the night takes flight.

It feels like a cinematic scene picking up where it had once paused, a seamless continuation. Laughter weaves through the air, stories unfold, and even the occasional argument dissolves into a chorus of joyous laughter. Though new and fresh, the conversation flows as naturally as breathing. Strangers evolve into friends, and amidst the clinking of glasses, a familial bond begins to sprout. Tav was indeed fortunate to have these beautiful souls around.

As the night bids farewell and everyone departs, you find solace curled up against Astarion. His voice, a gentle undercurrent, softly reads from his newest book, and you gaze up, fixated on the beautiful man before you. A silent expression of gratitude graces your lips, an unspoken acknowledgment directed at Tav. Thanks for giving you a family and the love of your life.

Astarion's fingers scratch your scalp, tenderly coaxing your eyes closed. "What are you thinking about, little love?"

"Just how lucky I am."

"I would argue I'm the lucky one, but I suppose we can share," he smiles; he continues to read to you and massage your scalp until you're puddy against his body, sleep having all but consumed you. The night settles into a tranquil symphony, the warmth of shared love lingering in the serenity.

Okay I know it was a bit cheesy, but I needed so fluffy shit today. Anyway, tell me what you thought I love talking with y'all.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna, marina-and-the-memes

[ellebakers]

☆ Monster (Terrifier crossover)

Ethan landry x reader (terrifier)

it’s a request from @scream-girl-imagines i hope you like it <3

Summary : When ethan and his family set out their plan to avenge richie, they didn't expect y/n to be the daughter of a psychopath.

Warnings : Mention of death + blood + art the clown + language (+18) + SCREAM VI SPOILERS !

Your life has not been easy, indeed three years ago you discovered that your father is a psychopath named art, more precisely art the clown if we stick to what the press said. And yes your father is famous but not for the right reasons, he killed a dozen people just for fun by dressing up as a clown. But you are not like him, you think you never even knew him so there is no chance that one day you will be like him.

But in your misfortune you found a little happiness, your best friend Anika was present when your mother told you the news. You graduated from high school, you joined the university of new york, very far from your mother. you have made new friends who have had their share of misfortune too and you even have a boyfriend, Ethan.

Of course, no one except Anika knows your father's identity.

✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚

"Ethan stop. " you laughed as he tickled you.

He was on top of you, in his halloween costume which was kinda weird, but it made him even cuter.

"Come with us." he begged you.

You ran a hand through his hair as he rested his head on your chest.

"I have to go to bed early for tomorrow."

He growls at you "Don't leave me alone with chad."

You laughed softly, took his face in your hands and gently lifted it. ""One, you won't be alone with chad. Two, you need to get out and chill baby, that will do you good."

"But I'd rather chill with you."

You kissed him "We can do that tomorrow when I get home."

"Remind me why you have to leave." he asked you while staring at your lips.

You rolled your eyes, groaning. "My mom wants me to go see her, she told me it's super important."

"She knows texting exists right ?"

You passed a hand on your face while laughing slightly

"Yes, since she sent me one to tell me, and I quote."

You raised both hands to mimic quotation marks

"You have to come, it's urgent."

He laughed and was about to answer when Anika's voice was heard behind the door. "I don't hear any moans so I'm going to come in, watch out."

You clapped your hand to your forehead, laughing. Your best friend then entered.

"Ethan, we're going to be late if we don't leave now. the others are waiting for us."

He rolled his eyes then kissed you several times before heading for the exit. "Hum. Go ahead, I have to talk to y/n." Anika said.

He looked from the brunette to you then the opposite with a questioning look but he didn't argue and left.

She turned to you biting her lip

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you tomorrow ?"

Tou smiled at her, her attention warmed your heart.

"It's really adorable but it'll be okay."

She walked towards you and sat cross-legged on your bed.

"It's about your father isn't it?"

You looked down at your hands. "I guess, she only calls me about two things, asking me for money and about my dad."

She put her hand on yours. "Hey it'll be fine, okay, whatever it is I know you're strong and you'll get through it."

You smiled at your best friend and got up to kiss her on the forehead. "Come on, now go have some fun and watch my boyfriend please."

She stood up and gave you a wink. "He's in good hands. As for you, I know you'll probably be on your way to your mom's when I get back so please watch out on the road."

"All right." she kissed the top of your head and left. as far as you are concerned, you double-locked the doors then fell asleep for a few hours before hitting the road.

✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚

The days that followed were hell for you, when you had just arrived at your mother's, she told you that your father was looking for you, but that was not the worst, Anika sent you a text to tell you that ghostface was back, so you decided to go home to support your friends, but when you got there, you discovered anika's dead body in the driveway of Sam and Tara's apartment. your best friend, the only person who ever supported you, was just killed by that masked asshole.

It all got worse when you came face to face with not one, but three ghostfaces, in an old theater. one of them was detective bailey, the second was quinn, that you thought was dead, and when the third took off his mask, you clung to sam's arm so you wouldn't fall while ethan, your boyfriend, the person for whom uou would have given your life, appeared, a knife dripping with chad's blood, the mask of ghostface in one hand and an evil smile on his face.

"Surprise, baby."

You couldn't move, fear and shock had invaded your body.

It was unreal, mr bailey then explained why they had done that, it was a long story but basically, ethan and quinn were brother and sister, they had an older brother, richie, the famous richie who was one of ghostface from woodsboro last year. they held sam responsible for richie's death so they set up a plan to make her pay.

You weren't really listening, you were too busy watching your boyfriend, the boy you thought was so innocent, killed people. he had killed chad, you had seen him do it. you kept thinking about ghostface's victims trying to imagine him killing them, and then one particular person came to mind.

"Anika." you asked loudly, cutting off mr bailey. "Did you kill her ?" you looked Ethan straight in the eye asking him that question.

No emotions crossed his gaze. he closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. "It's your fault. You had to die for her. She was only supposed to die in the last act."

Hearing that, something inside you began to change. It's as if someone else was controlling you, you looked up at the seats above the room and that's when you saw him, sitting in one of the seats, a delighted expression on his face like he knew what was going to happen next.

Your father, Art, was there. He met your gaze and waved his hand as if to say "So, what are you waiting for ?"

You started to laugh, a hysterical laugh that you didn't know yourself. All eyes were on you.

"Why are you laughing bitch ?" Quinn yelled.

You continued to laugh harder and harder, which annoyed the redhead, she approached you pointing her knife at you "What the fuck is your problem ?"

"You seriously thought you'd get away with it."

"And why not ?"

"Because I'm going to kill you, first you and then your asshole brother."

This time, it was the killers who started laughing.

"What do you want to do ? Kill us. You little prude. you can't."

Quinn didn't realize it, but you approached Sam and reached behind her back to retrieve the knife of Billy Loomis.

Ethan stopped laughing and continued in place of his sister

"Baby, I know what you are capable of. You couldn't even hold a knife without killing you. I mean, Sam yeah she could, after all, she's the daughter of a serial killer."

"Me too."

He smiled slightly, not sure if he should believe you or not. "What are you talking about ?"

"I'm also the daughter of a serial killer."

Bailey snorted, "Let me guess. Roman Bridger."

You shook your head smiling maniacally "No, mine's not a ghostface. Mine's called Art."

"The clown." Quinn asked frowning.

You nodded, slowly approaching her. "And I'll tell you a little secret. I'm sick of playing the victim. I'd rather be the killer, bitch."

She gasped as you plunged Billy's knife into her stomach.

Your father got up from his seat clapping and laughing loudly.

Ethan and Bailey looked up at Art. "What the fuck is this."

Sam took the opportunity to retrieve Quinn's knife and attacked Richie's father. You turned to Tara. "Get out."

You dragged the knife to Quinn's throat, she spat blood in your face, but you didn't care, you liked the power you had over her.

Her lifeless body fell to the ground, and you turned to Ethan who was running after Tara.

He had her cornered in the corner of the room and was about to stab her when you grabbed him by the hair.

Tara seizes the opportunity to run away. Your boyfriend was writhing around trying to escape. He stuck his knife in your thigh, which made you let him go.

"I'm going to kill you Y/n. I'm going to kill you like I killed Anika."

Your breathing was getting faster and faster, not from pain but more from adrenaline.

"We'll see who hurts the other the most."

He advanced towards you raising his knife, but you were faster and planted yours right in his shoulder, he growled while standing where you had stabbed him.

"Slut." He yelled at you.

"I know you are but what am I."

"I'll fucking kill you."

you rolled your eyes "It's always the same with you, you talk but don't act much. Like when you fucked me."

He screamed and rushed at you. You stuck your knife in his throat, which made him stop. You pushed the knife deeper and deeper so that the tip of the blade stuck out the other end of his throat.

You approached his ear "This is for Anika, motherfucker."

Then suddenly you pulled on the handle of the knife to completely open his throat, the violence of your gesture made his eyes widen and he emptied his blood on you before dying.

After pushing his body to the ground, you got up and looked around the room. You watched Sam put an end to Detective Bailey's life with a sadistic smile, then you looked up at your father. He was smiling at you, so you leaned over to greet her like comedians do after a play. He got up and sent you a kiss with his hand before leaving.

After killing the last member of the Kirsch family, Samantha approached you and sat on the dais, you did the same before asking her "How do you feel ?"

"Better, now that I know I'm not the only one with a rather special father."

You exchanged a laugh with her then she took your hand. "And you ?"

You took a deep breath "It's strange but, I feel more alive than ever."

"I know that feeling. Sometimes it feels good to be the bad guy."

"You mean, monster."

[howlingday]

au where when jaune fell off the bridge he fell into the naruto universe and honestly was a pretty strong fighter by nature of his aura and semblance just making him tankier than anything your average ninja or samurai could throw at him (the upper level ones are still a threat but he's training for that) only problem? jaune ends up raising a little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes like him and everyone assumes he was irresponsible and got a girl teen pregnant, HE'S EXTREMELY RESPONSIBLE! just ask his son Pyrrhus tldr: rusted knight jaune is naruto's dad and jaune's a pretty big deal due to being on the upper levels of strength

I had an idea for a different kind of Ninja Jaune, but I'll see what I can do for this.

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

"Hey, kiddo! How was class?"

"Fine." Pyrrhus sighed as he sat at the table. "Got made fun of in class again."

"Really? How come?" Jaune gave a judging scowl. "It was that pervy thing, was it?"

"So what if it was?!" Pyrrhus crossed his arms with a pout. "It's the best skill I got!"

"Pyrrhus," Jaune sighed, "I get that you're using your... imagination, but you can't just spam the same move all the time. You have to adapt, change your style! Like I did!"

"Ugh, here we go." Pyrrhus groaned.

"There I was, deep in the woods nearby." Jaune raised his hand. "Armed only with a broken sword, I fought against the most dangerous ninjas in the village. They came at me from all sides, but my aura and my armor proved to be too tough for them! I barely escaped with my life, and came upon you, sleeping in a warm, red cradle. I took you in my arms, and a voice said to me, 'This child needs you.' From that day forward, I swore I would dedicate my life to... to... Pyrrhus?"

The boy was gone from the table, having left to let his dad ramble. Jaune gave a sigh as he scratched his head. Honestly, what was he to do with that boy? Nora probably had more of an attention span than him.

Jaune then found himself thinking about that night again. After he fell and landed in this strange, new world. Sooner or later, Pyrrhus would learn the truth.

**********************************************

"Katon! Karyudan no jutsu!"

Jaune ducked as a stream of flames soared overhead. He didn't know what the heck happened! One minute, he's fighting on the bridge against Cinder. The next, he's in a forest, fighting black figures with strange semblances.

"Surround him!" A voice called out. "Don't let the trespasser near the village!"

"He's probably a spy, sent to ensure the Kyuubi would be summoned!"

Jaune spun in time to deflect shuriken from striking him. As he ran backwards, he tripped and rolled downhill. He struck his arm on the way down, but there wasn't time to whine about it. He'd have to heal as he ran.

He was almost out of the treeline when a hand grabbed his collar and tossed him backwards. A woman pointed her blade down at him, an inch from his chestplate.

"What village do you work for?"

"Uh, Mantle?" Jaune asked.

"Where?" The blade scratched his armor, emitting a horrible screech.

"I don't know! Atlas? Ever heard of Atlas?"

"What clan do you serve?"

"What cla- Listen, I don't know what's going on. I'm Jaune Arc, and I'm a huntsman of Atlas! I need to get back to my friends!"

"...Sensei."

"Yeah, I heard him." A voice said behind Jaune. "I've never heard of this Atlas or of the Arc clan."

"Should we dispose of him?"

"No. We need to return to the village. He's harmless with a broken sword." The two disappeared as swift as the wind.

"Yeah, don't ask for my input." Jaune dusted himself off as he stood up. Continuing his path from the treeline, he found himself in a clearing, where he found two people on a stone slab. As he got closer, three terrifying facts came into view.

One, there were three people, a child and two adults. Two, the adults were dead, but the child was alive. Three, there was blood everywhere.

Jaune found himself running, and as he got closer, he found lying there. Cold. Scared. Alone. He removed his armor and then his sweater, taking the baby into his arms, swaddled in his sweater.

"Hi." Jaune whispered. "Hi, I'm... I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc. It's short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it." He chuckled. "And... And your name is Pyrrha- Er, Pyrrhus. Pyrrhus Penny Arc."

**********************************************

"Pyrrhus?!" Jaune shouted. "What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that I'm gonna be the best!" The boy pointed to his defaced graffiti artwork. "Those chumps up there won't even compare to me when I'm up there! I'm gonna become the greatest Hokage ever!"

"Pyrrhus..." Jaune sighed.

"There's that boy again..." Jaune heard a voice whisper.

"Honestly, what is that man doing, letting that monster run around like that?"

"Why doesn't the Hokage do something about that outsider?"

Jaune could shrug these insults off all day. They were way worse at Beacon. Heck, Atlas had worse stings than this. If this was the worst Konoha could deal, then he was all-

"Don't you know? My husband says there's a demon inside that boy."

"Mommy, look, it's Pyrrhus!"

"Get away from the window! You don't want him anywhere near this house."

"Why hasn't the Hokage executed that boy already?"

Jaune looked to his son and noticed his mood had doured. He couldn't even look upwards to his artwork with pride anymore. Suddenly, Jaune's teeth started to clench with the same intensity as his muscles.

"Hey, Pyrrhus?"

"Huh?"

"Nice job on that booger up there." Jaune smiled. "Looks like he's got a cold."

Pyrrhus chuckled. "I thought somebody would like that."

"Kinda reminds me of when Iruka had those pepper cookies we baked before the parent teacher conference." The two chuckled and snickered.

"Oh, is that what happened?"

The duo froze. Then slowly turned. Oh, there was Iruka-sensei now. They turned forward. They crouched.

"RUN FOR IT!" Jaune roared.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU TWO!" Iruka shouted as he chased the father and son.

"Ugh..." The Third Hokage groaned. "It's still too early in the day for those two."

[teatitty]

Okay so I'm generously calling this the Dandy Guardian AU until I think of a better name but essentially this is the rundown [had to put this under a cut because it got long WHOOPS]:

In the book version of events, Dandelion isn't present when Geralt is in Cintra and calls the Law of Surprise, but he does know about what happened. I can't recall if we ever see that convo in text or if it's just background knowledge but that's not important right now

When the Fall of Cintra happens, Dandelion already has his ear to the ground, the walls and the crowds to follow Nilfgaard's movements - Oxenfurt's bards are the best bet anyone has for gathering information about the invading armies because they are spread so wide around the continent and have so many connections

Dandelion's first thought is not to send word to Oxenfurt about Cintra's fall. His first thought is Geralt, and his blasted Child Surprise. He starts tracking his way to Cintra, hoping that he might be able to cross paths with Geralt in the surrounding territories to assure himself that his friend didn't get caught in the middle of that Fall

Meanwhile, Ciri knows she has to find a Witcher by the name of Geralt. She knows he is her destiny. She has no fucking idea where to start looking for him, but she's on the run from Nilfgaard, terrified and anxious and stressed, and in her bag, to her surprise, she finds a well worn copy of a hidden book of Dandelion's poems, all of which are to do with Geralt's adventures. Mousesack had given it to her in secret when she was six, and it had been one of her favourites ever since

She quite forgot she had it in her bag

Cirilla has no idea where to find Geralt. But Dandelion might. Dandelion, she thinks, is her best bet to track her own destiny

And of the two of them, Dandelion isn't a very hard man to find. His bright plumage and singing laughter leaves an easy trail of rumours and tracks to follow. Curiously, whenever she asks about where she might find him, people don't tend to question her. They look at her with sympathy - and sometimes pity - and ask if she has anyone else she can rely on

"No," says Ciri, sombre and trembling. "I only have him."

It's not a lie, exactly, and she's gotten quite good at hiding her aristocratic accent. They point her to when they last heard of his presence. They ask if she needs any help. She thanks them for it, because she is still polite, if angry and confused and oh-so-very lost, but she declines any further company

She goes on.

Every night, she opens up that little book of poems, and tries to imagine what the man described in them is like. It's the closest thing she has to knowing Geralt the Person rather than Geralt the Cursed Witcher

Cirilla is three weeks' worth of travel out from Cintra's borders when she finds Dandelion. It's a little more accurate to say she's dragged over to him - apparently, a blonde, freckle faced child asking about such a famous bard is a quick titter of gossip in the grapevine, and she quickly discovers why it is that nobody ever asked her why she wanted him, and always looked with sympathy or pity at her plight:

Dandelion's hair is blonde. Hers is paler than his own, but he is blonde, like her, and his eyes are bright and clear. His face, though worn and tired, is fair and freckled just like hers, and he is just as surprised as she is when she finds herself shoved in front of him and announced to be his "illegitimate daughter"

"Whoever you got unlucky enough to knock up," says the other minstrel who guided her, "the poor lass seems all alone now. From what I heard, you're the only thing she's got left in the world."

Whatever the minstrel says next is lost to her - for a few aching moments, Dandelion looks panicked. And then something shifts. His face softens. "You look dead on your feet, darling," he says. "Come on, lets get you upstairs and clean you up a bit."

Cirilla doesn't trust strangers. Oddly, Dandelion doesn't feel like one. Perhaps because she has spent so many nights reading his work. Or maybe it's because he's a friend of her destiny. Either way, she quietly follows him up to his room, and when the door is closed, he says, "You don't know where Geralt is, do you?"

Ciri does not.

Her lip trembles. Her shoulders shake. When she finally heaves a sob, Dandelion does not crowd her. But his hands are gentle when he moves her cloak from her shoulders. His voice is soft as he brushes her hair and hums a quiet song

Dandelion never met Pavetta in person. But he once saw her in a painting, and he's seen plenty of Calanthe's likeness over the years besides. Ciri looks a spitting image of them both. Privately, he's impressed at how well she could hide her accent. But she is still just a child, and Dandelion has much more experience with putting on such a performance. He's worn many a different mask with many a different voice over the years, and he had heard traces of her native Cintran beneath the roughness of her croak

Cirilla is alone. But she is also alive, and Dandelion knows, with a confidence born of years by Geralt's side, that his Witcher would never let himself die before finding this girl safe

When the morning comes, he begins to take her North

[teutonic-titwillow]

I've wanted to write about this for a while, because let's face it: Delphine is head-to-head with Nazeem for the prize of Most Hated Skyrim Character.

And yet, and yet, and yet. Does she deserve the hate? Or is she just a victim of poor writing?

Let's talk about Delphine.

Actually, let's imagine a scenario.

Imagine that, in your youth, you dreamed of joining some famous organization. The FBI. The CIA. The Major Leagues. Whatever it is, congratulations: you made it!

Here you are, a fresh-faced recruit. You've been adopted into this new family: and a family it is due to its very nature, because the Blades have an overarching mission as well as their peripheral missions of, effectively, trying to defend the Empire and maintain the peace, and the necessary secrecy and shared sense of purpose creates tight bonds.

Then, one day, a wagon rolls into town, and on it are the rotting heads of your brothers and sisters.

The ones who murdered them throw back the tarp, and they reveal the annihilation of your family, your identity, your mission in life.

Worse yet?

You're next.

You're next. You feel it coming. You see it coming. The bastion of your organization, a fortress everyone thought would never fall, falls. More of your family die, and with each one, a piece of your heart is torn out for good.

You run. You run for your life. It's the only thing you can do. The few of you who are left scatter to the four winds. You don't dare to stay in contact - they'll find you that way. You don't even know who's still alive. You're pretty sure no one is.

You run, alone, hunted, endlessly hunted.

But it gets worse still, because as far as you know, you. Are. It. The entirety of the hopes and dreams and sacred mission of the Blades is ALL ON YOU, because you are, as far as you know, all that's left.

Imagine being that young woman, utterly alone, terrified, fighting for her life in the face of a foe who'd almost taken down an Empire, and to top it all off, bearing the weight of this inutterably heavy responsibility. And you are so absolutely the wrong person to bear this burden. You're a recruit! You don't know the half of what you need to know. You aren't privy to the secrets that guided your Grandmaster.

But you can't put that weight down. If you do, the mission dies, and with it, the world, because the Blades, as you know them, were the last bastion against the end of the world. Against Alduin. The lives of your brothers and sisters were lost for nothing. Their suffering bought your freedom. Their deaths sealed your fate.

It's all on you.

Now fast forward a decade. Two. Three.

You're older. You're tired. So tired. You've spent these years skipping one step ahead of golden-skinned death. Your body is scarred from those encounters. You wish you could lay down this burden, but you can't because there's no one else to take it up. You have no home. No friends. No family. No children. No one to share your secret or your burden with. Can't risk it. The Thalmor might find you and kill them, too. Probably make you watch.

Is it any wonder you see Thalmor in every corner? Is it any wonder you're wary, jaded, paranoid, exhausted, on edge? Is it any wonder you have absolutely zero fucks left to give? The only thing that sustains you any more, through all of this pain and grief and fear, is the mission.

Of course Delphine isn't cuddly. Of course she's paranoid and obsessed. She has lived through absolute hell for thirty years, and she has done it alone.

And sure, she demands that you kill Paarthurnax, but you know what? She's a Blade. The Blades' mission is, in part, to make sure the Dragon Wars never, ever happen again, and dragons are immortal: long after the Last Dragonborn is gone, Paarthurnax will still be there, and there is no guarantee that he'll be able to control his nature forever. The odds are, in fact, against it, and when those odds fall in Nirn's disfavor, there'll be nobody left with the power to stop him.

Why doesn't she let it go, you ask?

Because she can't.

Because it is all she has left - the last thing, the ONLY thing she was able to pull from the burning wreckage of her life. And even if it sears her flesh to the bone, she cannot let it go.

Delphine's not a monster. She's not a fool, either, or she wouldn't have survived this long. She's a tired old warrior who lost everything she loved and then had to crawl through hell, carrying the weight of all of her dead and their centuries-old battle on her back every step of the way.

So let's have a little sympathy for an old warrior. She'll pretend she doesn't care, that she'll do what she has to whether you like it or not, but inside, the pain of the last thirty years bites deep, and the only thing that makes her pain holy is fulfilling her duty to the family she lost all those years ago. And if that didn't come through in her dialogue, don't blame Delphine. Blame Bethesda for forcing you to read between the lines to fully comprehend the shit sandwich Delphine has been eating all this time.

[sparatus]

can I get secret and future for the sparatus kids pls? They need chewing on. Like squeaky toys.

not-so-nice oc asks

you're so right tho

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

part of areus resents his father's career in xenopolitics. he loves his dad, and once he's a dad himself he understands why as a father he'd want to take the opportunities to provide a better life for his children, but areus hates the attention, hates the security, hates that he'll never be a nobody again - he hates everything about being the councilor's son, and as much as he loves and respects his father, he can't help but hate that he ever agreed to go into politics in the first place.

verres is a coward. he's the military son, he's a lifer, but he'd much rather never face combat a day in his life. he stayed in the military because he excelled at leadership and he felt at home there, but he has a very strong survival instinct. push comes to shove, he'll do his duty, especially if there's a personal tie like protecting his family or his friends, but he's very gentle at heart.

calvetorin is terrified of dying. specifically, she knows that she had a lot of life-threatening birth defects that were corrected with surgery so she could survive, and she has a horrible fear that something got missed, or that they were only temporary fixes, and she's been living on borrowed time all along. she's also terrified that those defects, since they were caused by eezo exposure, will turn out to be hereditary and every time she gets pregnant (she ends up having 3 children) she's risking passing on those same problems to her kids.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

for all three of them, not that they realize it at all, the worst future... is what happens in bad end. their father is killed in an act of high treason and terrorism (because shepard killing the council is both of those things, whether fandom and bioware like to acknowledge that or not), there's no body left for final rites to let his family say goodbye properly as he passes across the veil, and all the galaxy falls apart. if you asked them, the worst thing they could imagine would be their spouses or kids dying, or galactic war; in a timeline where shepard kills the council, none of them had ever considered that outcome, and their entire worldview is shattered.

[itlivesproject]

*SPOILERS* Any wise words for someone who is struggling to like Amalia?? She really grinds my gears on a personal lvl, i do appreciate her character and role within the narrative thats *chefs kiss* but shes so pushy 😭😭😭 like girly no one is stopping u from doing lawyer things without me! And then when she got deleted from the UoO system she really struggled to see the big picture??? If we know the Power deleted her, why does she insist on doing things in a normal capacity???

I hope this made sense and didnt come off to rambly, despite my grieviences with Amalia I wouldnt delete her from the game or anything, i do like what she represents and honestly this enitre game is just the best thing to occur this year!

Here are some wise words. Also, I did not intend for this to be so long 😅

Consider things from Amalia's perspective. Although we are playing as the mc, rowan (i'm gonna call them that in this response) is not the center of the universe and everything Amalia does for them, she doesn't have to. Ro begged Amalia to join them in hunting monsters and terrifying dogs and she hesitated a grand total of like three seconds before giving in. At the beginning of the game, Amalia (whose school literally starts in less than a week) is sacrificing her time to help Ro get settled in for school, find an apartment, and basically taking care of all the practical things that Ro would genuinely forget about if left to themselves. She gives up her summers (which she could spend working or studying or taking extra courses) to help Ro on their personal vendetta against power creatures, and consistently puts her life on the line for Ro. So when you consider her being pushy or perhaps selfish for worrying about her future and wanting Ro's support for once... maybe think about all the times she's supported you first.

You must understand just how important Amalia's future is to her. Aside from Rowan and her family, her goals and ambitions are the most important thing in her life for a few reasons. One, she feels like she can make a difference in peoples' lives and needs to do so. Two, she wants to make her parents' sacrifices worth it and make something great of herself. Three, she doesn't want to have to depend on anyone, she wants to be fully independent and take care of herself so she can help take of others. Like I love Noah but mans completely depends on Connor for his survival lol. Amalia doesn't want that. Idk if you've been through college, but she had one more year left!! One more! Imagine the prospect of having to start over from scratch after the hundreds of hours you've spent in class, on assignments, studying, and not to mention the money she spent that she won't be able to get back. This is probably the most difficult thing that has happened to her, not just in the sense that it's a hard thing, but in the sense that she was just royally screwed. Her future is on the line, and for the first time, she wants Rowan's support like she's always supported Rowan.

She is pushy about Rowan going to college but that's because she's a good friend! She knows that this isn't sustainable long-term and she doesn't want Rowan to wind up dead in a ditch someday. Hunting is dangerous for two reasons: physically you might get killed, and when you're hunting you're not preparing for your future. How is Rowan going to make money? Get a job? Ro doesn't have a family to support them and they need to learn to take care of themself. Amalia supports Rowan enough to go along with them and make sure they're safe while chasing monsters while also trying to encourage them to be smart and make choices that will benefit them long-term in life. That's not being pushy, that's being an actual good friend who cares more about what's good for you than only saying what you want to hear.

Finally, consider that Amalia and Rowan have no idea that their story is taking place in the final installment of the It Lives series. The Power has been causing problems for decades, centuries even! Why would Amalia have any reason to think that their investigation will actually end anything? As far as she can tell, fighting the Power is like trying to stop a boat leak by putting your finger over it. It's like the meme guy slapping a piece of paper over the giant leak. She views your situation as powerless. She supports Ro not because she thinks they'll actually make much of a difference, but because she knows Ro is going through it and will do this with or without her, so she figures she may as well be there as much as she can to keep Ro safe. But in her opinion, the Power is unstoppable, unbeatable, and it's best to just step away from it and try to live life as normally as you can. You're not the main character of the universe, this isn't your problem, you should try to live your life and be responsible and have a future.

So this is my list to understand Amalia and her perspective better 🤠 oh and thanks for enjoying and supporting the game, we truly appreciate it 💖

[solemnlyswear93]

A note about the coming CEO chapter...

I've had this chapter planned since the inception of this story. It's Levi's entire background finally explained to Dylan. Now that it's here, I'm incredibly nervous to share it with the internet as a whole. I never imagined this story would get a big as it has (big for me), and the number of subscribers is both awesome and terrifying. Especially because the last couple of chapters have brought out some pretty impassioned feelings from a small amount of people that have a different opinion from the viewpoint I'm writing. There's been wonderful support too, and I'm thankful for that. That being said...

I'll say this before you read the chapter: Please be respectful with any feedback. Remember I'm a real person beyond this online persona. Please, share your feedback, good or bad. Just be respectful. 🙂

Also, I feel like canon Levi would have unresolved PTSD, after everything he went through. I wanted to write a story depicting a bit of that in this modern AU. I also wanted to highlight the power of extensive therapy and healing, so I want you all to know right here and now, that I will be writing that aspect of things in the next chapters.

I feel like therapy and self-love are the greatest gifts you can give yourself. I'm also a huge believer that trauma is not an excuse for toxicity, but it can fuel your actions if left unchecked, like Levi's behavior in the last couple of chapters of my story. I am also a huge believer that you are worthy of love, your past be damned to hell. As long as you're willingly working on yourself, you're striving to heal, you're creating goals with a mental health professional and your focus is the safety of your body and mind, you are worthy of love. So worthy. You're worthy of love even if you haven't yet made the decision to begin therapy, which can be such a daunting step to take.

This is the darkest chapter of this story. In the last three chapters, there will be a small amount of angst, but there will be a lot more fluff and healing than anything else. Along with a wonderful ending that I'm excited to share.

Please mind the content warnings that will be on this chapter before you read it. Take care of your mental health, above all.

I'll get off my soap box now. I realize this is only fan fiction, for fuck's sake, but I write from the heart. These characters mean the world to me and I'm trying to create a wonderful, raw story of growth, love and healing.

Not all of my stories are or will be this dark, but fuck if I’m not proud of this one.

Cheers, friends. 🙂❤️

[kaibestboy]

IMAGINE (OneShot)

I wish to see you all again.

!WARNING! : mentions of death, reader is he/him, lying, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff at the end.

🃏__________♠️♥️♦️♣️__________🃏

You were terrified, people were going crazy and panicking about their symbol. You have been walking around asking people what your symbol was to avoid lies.

"Spade" a girl with space buns told you. While other people said "heart" and you swore you would never trust her again. As you walked around you kept feeling two or three sets of eyes staring at you.

"you know you shouldn't trust people so easily" said Chishiya a person you had met at the Beach. He was a friend of Arisu and Usagi so you obviously knew him but not so well. He was eating his cookies. His cookies were probably the only thing he cared most about.

It was now the last five minutes so you stepped into your cell and guessed. "Heart" It was correct, thank goodness. As you stepped out a guy walked up to another and started to force him to tell him his symbol.

Banda got up and walked over whispering to the boy. "tell him it's spade" and so the defenless boy did. When that round ended the space buns girl was accusing the guy of killing the gangster on purpose and that they should make him die. Honestly, you didn't really care about anything now that you gave Chishiya telling the correct symbol.

Banda walks up to you and introduces himself. "my name is Banda. Banda Sunato" "my name is Y/N L/N" you told him. He smirked and nodded before walking off as you and Chishiya looked at him intently.

Chishiya started to go over something telling you how he knows the emo boy known as Enji was the Jack Of Hearts. You just nodded and hummed. Walking into your cell, you guessed your symbol.

When Enji walked out he smiled before laughing uncontrollably celebrating his victory. Not even a moment later Chishiya walked out along with you. To be honest you didn't really pay attention to whatever happened later. But you were just staring at Banda and Yaba distracted by their beautiful faces.

You felt a little guilty, but also didn't. The game had to end in one way or another. You reached into a pocket and saw a note.

Dear Y/N,

You might know me as the girl with space buns who lied about your symbol, but I'm writing to tell you that I am your friend from the real world. Don't remember me? My name is Urumi Aramaki. We got separated because I had to go study abroad when we were 10 or 11 remember? If you're reading this and I'm not here keep going for me, for your friends, for your family and for your life.

You read the letter in shock and tears began to fall,but you quickly wipe it away. Boys don't cry, no, but it feels like you were getting punched in your heart. How could you not recognise her? 'I'm so sorry Urumi' you thought.

As you left to find Arisu and the rest you stopped for some food. When you got there Arisu told the news of how Tatta, a great friend of yours had died. You couldn't accept everything. All the lovely people, all the best people left you. First Chota and Karube, now Tatta . You couldn't take it in. You wanted to cry and scream,but you couldn't.

As you walked through the streets to a new game you kept thinking that everything was your fault. Then you saw the last person you wanted to see. Niragi. But how is he alive? "it's all your fault Y/N! You helped Chishiya kill me. You were not there with Tatta. You are the one to blame" this is only making you sadder than before. How is Niragi a man who is a rapist a killer be telling you shit like this. "Kuina and Ann are dead as well. You were supposed to be looking after them! Yet you split up with them and thought they would survive without your help". Niragi kept on making you feel guilty.

Your stomach dropped when you saw Niragi raising his gun up. This was finally your end. Finally. You can see the ones you loved again. Yes! But as Niragi was about to pull the trigger, someone jumped in and stole his gun. Usagi! You turned to her then to Arisu. "go Y/N go! We'll be fine we promise".

The cycle never ends, you leave they die, you're scared that they would leave you too. You started to tear up at the thought.

.

.

.

.

.

.

After so many games, you finally did it you made it back to the real world. Fireworks were every where and you couldn't stop but smile.

You woke up and felt so weak. It was like you got into an accident. Your mother told you your heartbeat had stopped for a minute just like the other people. You nodded and tried to get up but you see that you had burn marks and also scars all over your body, you got up and some doctors supported you and put you in a wheelchair.

Your legs do not work its sad. You wheeled over outside and saw a familiar face. "I feel like I've met you before, but I don't know when" it was Banda but you didn't know (pretend he's there). "yes I think I saw you somewhere to, let's be friends eh?" "sure, my name is Y/N L/N" "Banda Sunato" they talked and have fun not knowing they will be put in a death game called Love. Banda smiles and hugs the boy giving him his number. "call me some day" "will do".

.

.

.

The end

[imzsuzsis-blog]

I've been home for quite a while, terrified of what he's saying. One, we broke up with Ollie, two, I'm pregnant by him and I'm pissed off that he'll cut me off if I tell him this, three, Max is in Miami and all he could say was fucking brave, dude, you know, like on the track last time when you came third and you weren't afraid. So I bought deep air instead and decided to hide it in the envelope. I'll tell you the truth about the test.

"Hey, I don't even know how to say this properly, but it's over, we broke up with Ollie" I saw that she was shocked and I started to cry. "Don't worry, don't worry, a breakup is just like that." "Fuck, I know, but even if we had sex." ,,So what?" "That shouldn't be your problem, you're boys." "I'm pregnant, fuck me, Flo is only a few weeks old, leave me alone!!!" I stormed out of the family villa alone, angry and sad, and the glass door broke behind me, I took the first car far away, I had nowhere to go, but I certainly won't tell them everything after this.

I had to park somewhere and take deep breaths, believe me, I'm pregnant, I took out the test again with tears in my eyes, I could only look at it. "I don't think some fucking embryo or something is developing inside of me right now" I tilted my neck back and joyful snorts and screams came out of nowhere. Mom called but I didn't pick up, I still had the fucking loneliness to eat it all up before I remembered I fell asleep again and only woke up to someone knocking on the glass. "Sorry, sir, I overslept for some reason, I'm not sleeping well, I'm really sorry." "No problem, it's a public parking lot open 24 hours a day, only my son noticed and then left, he didn't want to bother me either." "Oh, I understand, thank you, bye." ,,Bye bye"

At first, the guy seemed cute when he stood in line at the gas station for some chocolates and chips, and suddenly he didn't even know what planet he was on and suddenly poured his water on me. "I'm sorry, the family will have the chocolate and the chips, I'm hungry" "It's okay, where do you live?" Before you forget that too." "Now I'm staying with my family in the Bristol area and in Monaco." "I understand that you are English, but you live abroad. How old? I take it your child is careful?” "I'm twenty-four and I'm not in F1, either good or bad." "What is your name or are you called?" Because I rarely date, I don't know how to ask a boy or a girl out." "Lando, I don't know, it's just a conversation. I don't even know who you are, or who are you? seriously, you can't ask a boy out on a date like that, especially if he's a complete stranger, there's the risk of being robbed, which is not small this evening. Pay attention, this base is the name." "I'm good Loki and not of this world... And here I think I cut myself off, you seem human, unfortunately I'm not, no matter how I imagine." "Bakker, it doesn't sound stupid, but I believe in such things. My friends and family think I'm a gay gullible idiot because of it." I saw him giggling at this and showing the pictures on his mobile phone. In fact, his background image was a mythological creature and he had several of these apps on his mobile phone. "Yes, my number is, let's go on a date at some point, but let's be friends."

When I got out, my brain and eyes could only see colors, I got back in the car and I knew, "Fuck Lando, his wild stranger can even kidnap me!" but I just licked my mouth and waited for that one week to ring, not him. "Fuck me!" And I put it down, Flo was the one to go home and tell me, I don't really feel like it after all this, especially since the style seems so nice and normal at first. "Flo, no, I won't tell you, I just met a normal guy!!!" I pulled out the Speakerphone and pressed the horn with muscle so that half the people around me could hear it. "Well, the angry skoripo came home, my son, what the hell happened??? Huh??? Break up with Ollie and meet a forty three year old guy???? Where has your remaining common sense gone???? "We're not going to go on a date anywhere, our interests are to hell with it!!!! Maybe next year I won't spend the fucking Easter here with my child, mother!!!" ,,You're pregnant???" "Yes, so what?" I ran up to my room, slammed the door behind me, leaned back against him and started sobbing.

"If anyone says anything, don't come out here, they will give birth to the baby, leave the little one alone!!!!!!" I screamed, sobbing from the bottom of my throat and my head was between the pillows, not only tears but also snot were flowing from my face, when Cisc came in I cut one of the pillows to her. "Lando, hey, hey, calm down, you've turned into a drama queen again. Fuck you, even if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't tell him your secret." "Stop it, after Ollie and I broke up and he left me pregnant alone, I don't even know how to get an abortion, I just want to have an abortion in case of emergency... adoption... Mother!!!!!!" I had to get up and run down the stairs, "Yes?" "I know, but you wouldn't get a divorce, but I would raise the little one, but here is the eternal matter of adoption... Well?" ,,Lando comes with a little bit of resignation, would you be able to give up things because of him? But yes, the other language on the scale is adoption, but it is painful, which one?” "Yes, I can do it. And I can say things. And I can grow up, so I raise the little one.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

love lockdown | k. ryuuguji (draken)

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, 18+, manga spoilers (character death), heavy hurt/comfort, arguing, toxic relationships / domestic violence (not between draken and reader but the shitty women draken dates) mechanic!draken, neighbor!mitsuya, reader is frustrated with draken and is a bit of crybaby, draken fucks up, makeup sex, palm riding? you like grind against his palms, fingering, oral (f!recieving), cumming when you put it in, draken has a big dick (so big) and it’s mentioned to be uncut, not belly bulge but he does put a hand on your stomach and asks if you can feel him, petnames baby, favorite girl, and little lady, morning after, MULTIPLE orgasms

➳ wc ;; 11.6k (help)

➳ a/n ;; draken my man i am begging you to release the shackles you have my clit in. this fic was supposed to be 4k MAX but here we are. tokyorev has me by the neck.. everyone say thank u to @manjihoe​ for not only beta-ing but making me read tr. draken nation... this ones for you *shoots a three and misses*

if you're interested, i have a rlly short playlist here

➳ synopsis ;; draken is a good man, probably one of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. but he has one vice that confuses you, since it feels so out of left field - he’s always dating terrible women and you can’t help but wonder why.

“Draken has terrible taste in women,” ― You watch as Mitsuya takes a little piece of thread, wetting it between his lips before trying to loop it through the needle ― “It wasn’t always like that, though. I don’t get involved anymore about it, but it’s probably his biggest vice.”

“Everyone’s told me that, but no one explains why to me.” you reply back, pulling your knees up to your chest. You watch as Mitsuya carefully stitches the sides of your dress together, eyes lasered focus. His earrings dangle and click together when he dips his head down to take a good look at the damage on your sundress.

“It’s not really our story to tell,” he says after some time, shaking his head like the idea of it would bring up bad memories. You know he’s probably doing the right thing, but you can’t help but be a little frustrated by him anyways.

It’s mostly quiet in your apartment. Mitsuya is your neighbor, bordering roommate - trusted in your space. You know him well enough to know all his friends by name - the things they’ve been through. Despite your initial intimidation - talking to them has been an incredibly pleasant experience. Most of them are rough around the edges, like they’ve seen shit you couldn’t imagine.

But they’re sweet, down to their cores which feels odd. They’ve got the kind of kindness that runs bone deep, that only blooms when you’ve seen some bad shit in your life with no intent to spread more. You see it sometimes when you speak to them, loneliness around the corners of their eyes that makes your heart-ache. They’re good folks all the same.

Of all of Mitsuya’s friends, you were easily most intimated by Draken when you met him. You’d been on an errand with Mitsuya, walking with him to pick up his bike from the shop. He’d managed to find another old friend and wanted to catch up, leaving you to your devices in the front area of the garage.

That’s where you saw him the first time.

Draken is a scary guy. He’s tall, broad, with dark hair and a tattoo on his skull that he’s apparently had since he was in the 5th grade. Aside from being terrifying to look at, he had a deep voice with timbre and an almost cold stare. It’s not often you’re intimidated by someone, but it felt like a survival instinct to step back from him.

You remember it clear as day. Scrambling to find your voice to speak to that.. thug only to be greeted with the warmest words when you introduced yourself as Mitsuya’s friend. He’s got a great smile, aside from being handsome and tall.

You come to find out that Draken in general is maybe one of the nicest people you’ve ever met in your life. Looks can be deceiving with Mitsuya’s friend group, Mitsuya is the most well groomed guy you know and he can beat the shit out of almost anyone

Draken is, however, exceptionally nice. So nice that even your friends seem to feel comfortable around him. You’d leave your drink in his presence and not think twice. He walks home with your girl friends if he’s walking you home, just to make sure they're safe but keeps his distance. He helps little old ladies across the street who seem to ignore his tattoo altogether as soon as he speaks. He just has that energy to him, like there are some people who don’t need to see the scary side of him at all.

Draken is the unequivocal kind of good you think you only meet once in your life. His heart is big, and despite everything he’s been through the world hasn’t hardened him the way it should’ve. Somehow he’s more vulnerable than you could understand.

There’s just one thing about him you’ve always found off-putting, and plainly it’s that Draken is always dating someone terrible.

You don’t like feeling unnecessary jealousy. You do have feelings for Draken but more than that, you’re friends, so you care about him. But every single girl he’s ever brought to meet his friends has been one of the most terrible women you’ve met in your life.

It’s so bad people warned you about it. It’s an almost weekly occurrence. They forbid him from talking to both you and Hina more often than not. They’re rude, ungrateful, and downright mean to Draken. Some of them have gone as far to put their hands on him like they know he’s too good of a guy to hit them back. These would become the first people you’ve ever fought - with Mitsuya and his friends teaching you moves since they can’t exactly fight them themselves.

It’s toxic beyond repair, and every time the current girlfriend is throwing a fit - Draken makes it his responsibility to fix it even if he wasn’t in the wrong at all. He gets this look on his face like he’s sad but he still does it.

Draken is far from spineless or cowardly. Whatever happens in these short-term but horrible relationships only happen because he lets them happen. Because he feels like he should let them happen. They never last but it’s never Draken to break up first.

You know enough about Draken to know that he always feels responsible for the actions of others. You know why, but you can’t help but want to talk some sense into him.

Mitsuya must sense your frustration, an air of heavy exhaustion making you groan into the palms of your hands. He can’t help but feel bad for you - because Draken must know you like him. That you like each other. So aside from the bad choices, it brings up the most obvious question.

Why won’t Draken just date you?

Mitsuya can’t be sure, but he figures Draken has it out to punish himself. To fill the gap but not to let himself be happy, not knowing if he deserves to be happy. It’s not like he doesn’t understand.

It makes him sad too, seeing his friend in such a sorry state. But Mitsuya believes that everyone has to forgive themselves in order to live, in order to make sure nothing is muddy. Ghosts that will always haunt you - it’s hard to learn how to live beside them. He knows that to be true, so he finishes the last stitches in your dress before lifting his head up to go talk to you.

“Just ask Ryu about it,” Mitsuya advises, his voice soft as he folds your dress up and hands it to you ― “Talk to him and figure it out.”

You sigh when you think about it. He’s probably right. You take the dress in your lap, looking at the newly stitched material with a frown.

“Yeah.. you’re probably right.” You reply, unsure of what to feel. You look up at him with a soft smile.

“Thanks for stitching this for me, Mitsu. Maybe I should wear it over.” you suggest light-heartedly. He grins.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

__

Draken is still in his shop when you text him that you wanna ask him something. He offers to wait till after his shift to pick you up from your apartment, but you figure if you wait it out you’ll lose nerve. You go to his shop and he lets you without a word.

He looks good when he works. He’s been working on an older car for the last few weeks, been texting you updates that read mostly nonsensical to you. An American Cadillac that he recently managed to snag - beat up and broken. You can see it in the back when he opens the door up.

You can tell he’s been laying under the car and fidgeting it with the stuff underneath. There’s grease stains on his cheeks and on his jaw, and his jumpsuit is half-way down his waist. Unzipped, his hair is pulled up like always. He’s got a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.

You looked the same as usual but Mitsuya pushed you to change into your sundress. Your lashes are dolled and dark, mouth glossy and hair fixed lazy. You’re wearing a dress anyhow, a jacket over your shoulders to deal with the cold.

He swings the red wood door wide, leaning against the frame with a warm smile. He’s so good looking it kills you, his expression drawn up. Draken doesn’t give himself enough credit for being handsome in the rugged way he is. His gloved hands cross over strong chest, tight shirt against his pecs. You swallow something in the back of your throat, fidgety.

“Whaddya want?” he asks, faux annoyance in his voice. You roll your eyes prepared to say something sarcastic, but then he pauses for real. He gives you an up and down glance.

“What’re you wearing that for?” he asks again, face scrunched in confusion. You pause and then realize that it’s the dress. You give him a grin.

“I have a date after this, didn’t I tell you?”

He doesn’t like the sound of that at all. He shakes his head, brow pinching even more.

“Huh.. is that right? With who?”

You roll your eyes at the tone of his voice.

“A date with my vibrator and netflix, sir. Mitsuya was at my place and he fixed up my dress so I wore it here.” you reply easily. He frowns at you.

“Don’t speak so crassly to me,” he tuts, stepping aside to let you in. You roll your eyes at him before walking it but he uses his arm to make sure you can’t get in.

“I’m serious.” he warns. You give him another frown.

“You talk about shit like that with Mitsuya and them but I can’t crack jokes?”

He gives you a look like you’ve said something ridiculous. But you stand your ground, partly because you don’t enjoy Draken telling you what to do but also because you don’t understand why it would bother him in the first place.

He glares at you.

“No, you can’t. Not to me or anyone else. Clear?”

You pretend the sound of his voice doesn’t send your gut to your stomach as you huff, pushing forward anyways with a frown.

“Yeah yeah, okay got it. Move, I’m cold.”

Draken lets you pass finally. There’s a little area for the shop and through the door is the garage where Draken does his actual work. When you step inside, you take a deep breath looking at the familiar surroundings. The garage is covered edge to edge in bikes - some for repair and some for sale. Low ceilings with big windows, some boarded up entirely. There’s tools around in red and black carts, car parts, and posters of pretty women and American rappers on the walls. It always smells vaguely like gasoline and metal, an almost coppery taste on your tongue when you step inside.

The car Drakens working in the back. You watch as he walks past you, carrying a stool under his arm. Your shoes squeak as you fall into step behind him, weaving through the bikes. He sets the stool next to the industrial drawer he has to store materials - the only thing he had formally installed for the shop. It’s not very big, but it’s unmoving and up against the wall.

You hop up onto the stool, resting your elbow on the drawer and letting your palm press against your cheek. Draken is in your view. He sits on the creeper seat, balancing on it bent over his knees before looking over at you.

“You still didn’t tell me what you wanted to talk about.” he tsks. He lays back onto the creeper seat, before rolling back under the car. His voice is just a touch louder when he speaks to you now, you watch amused. His body is so big when it sticks out from underneath the burnt-orange cadillac.

“What’s up?”

You’re silent for too long, probably. You bite the corners of your lip trying to find a way to bring it up to him. Mitsuya is right that this is the best thing to do, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy thing to ask about. Especially because you aren’t exactly sure what to ask him. Why seems too straightforward, not gentle enough for something like this. Something about asking unsettles you. You don’t know everything, and that’s scary.

But, you’re more afraid of not knowing. Of him closing you out. So you sit in silence for a long while until Draken slides back out with confusion all over his face.

“You’re freakin’ me out.” he says hesitantly. You sit up straight and look at him, hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Promise you’ll be real with me?” you ask, sticking your pinky out just far enough so he can reach it. He laughs lightly at that, but takes it anyway, shaking your hand with linked pinkies.

“I don’t know what you’re going to say.”

“It’s like.. about the girls you bring around, I guess.” you say with a wince. You’re not sure how to phrase it, how much more gentle you can treat the situation. What diction could you use to divert the reality? But you see it in his face immediately, how he’s on the defensive. A part of you believes he’d be more understanding, but you knew.

For Draken.. For Ryuguji Ken - love cannot exist without survival. It’s instinctual, that belief.

Because while Draken is kind and nice - he also takes no interest in explaining himself. Because he feels like he can have a vice or two, maybe.

To have you involved as little as possible - part of it’s purposeful. With awareness that the further you are, the safer you can be. You don’t know which exactly this time, maybe a mix of both. No one ever taught him how to deal with grief, and this must’ve been the best he could come up with.

But, you have to ask. To pry it out of him with your teeth, sharp in his anguish, if you have to. Because it can’t keep going like this. You can’t keep watching it if it does go on. Love has you playing offense, with your heart on your sleeve and apology on your tongue. How do you phrase it softly, kindly?

That you can love someone through their grief, but they have to let you in? Is there a way to say it without hurting them? If your lover is an open wound, how do you teach them the difference between that pain and the sting from stitches?

There’s no way you think. For this conversation to be easy. Nothing ever is with Draken, and that’s fine even if it scares you

When his face goes cold, you take a deep breath and steel your nerves. Your face goes soft, but you have to be strong.

“I just wanna know what’s on your mind, Ken. I wanna know why you keep..” you trail off, unsure of what to say.

“Keep what?” he spits, a little more venom in his voice than he means. You deflate a little. Not angry, but frustrated. Tired of seeing him put himself through it without at least knowing why. You rub your temple.

“I’m not trying to start a fight.” you reply with an even, easy quality to your voice. You have to hold it together.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.” he replies back, trying to quell his initial anger. It’s not like him to feel like this. He knows that, but he can’t help. His guard about how he acts is always down with you and it shines like this.

“Ken..” you trail, voice tired “I can’t keep watching you do this with them. I can’t, and I won’t just sit here and watch.”

“It’s not your business to begin with, fucksake.”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice at you, but it comes out. He watches as you retreat. Stares at you when your eyes go wide with something akin to fear and his stomach drops. Because as much as you know Draken would never hurt you, he’s scaring you. And maybe you’re too strong for your own good, because your voice shakes in your throat when you look at him. Your palms curled in, hands fisted at your knees.

“Don’t raise your voice with me.” you say sternly, expression unreadable. “Not now, not ever Draken.”

He pulls back, face crumpling with frustration as the two of you look away from each other. He hears a deep sniffle and his eyes snap up again. You’re crying, not big sobs but sniffles. Your eyes red around the corners, frustrated crying. He stares at you and his heart drops, and he thinks about how Mitsuya is gonna kill him. He thinks about the guilt he feels for making you fucking cry.

“I’m gonna leave.” you say, taking a shaky breath. Your hands in your pockets, pressing your fingers to your eyes so your makeup doesn’t run. You sound hoarse, like you ran here “I don’t wanna do this right now. I’ll text Mitsuya to pick me up and I won’t tell him, so.. I’ll see you later, Draken.”

Draken is good with gut feelings. That emotion - the brief sense that if you don’t do something right now, right away everything will fall apart. He feels it when he watches you stumble to your feet. When you take another deep breath and put your hands in your pockets, ready to walk off. His body moves on it’s own, heavy steps as he rushes to you.

His hand snakes your wrist and holds it. You close your eyes, breathing another deep breath.

“Ken, let go of me. It’s fine, you don’t want to talk,” you urge, your voice trembling. “I don’t wanna fight with you. Let me go, please.”

His grip loosens but he can’t let go. You try to wiggle out of his grasp but he can’t, he can’t. He’s scared that if he cuts you loose this will be the last time. He’s not exactly sure what it is, but Draken knows better than to go against his instinct.

“I didn’t mean to snap on you like that..” ― He trails off, shutting his eyes ― "I know it’s not.. I know you mean well. I’m sorry.. fuck - really sorry. I don’t wanna see you cry.” His voice is soft.

You know he means well but you can’t help but feel resentment, because you can’t tell if he means it. Your mind wanders to all the girls he’s dated and brought home, and you wonder if he snapped at them too, or if he comforted them kindly and softly. And you recognize that ugly, bitter feeling. You don’t want to compare yourself, because you are good and whole all on your own.

But it rears its head like this. When you’re frustrated, exhausted from being strong. From holding Draken together so many nights. Because he has opened his heart to you before, and you’ve held in your palms carefully. Because you’re good to him, more often than not. Frustrated because you haven’t done anything to deserve this, and you know if you don’t turn back now everything will pour out of you.

Love is a wound, and you bleed for Draken more than anyone else.

“Please let me go, Ken. I can’t… I don’t want to do this with you. If I’m here any longer, it’s gonna get ugly. Let me go.”

You try again, to move. But he won’t let you, won’t budge. You think it again, that you don’t deserve to feel like this. That love shouldn’t hurt, or cut you so deep but all Draken feels like is a thorn in your side. You tremble again, knees buckling.

Your voice is watery. You can’t help but shake. It’s too much, too much, too much. Everything feels like it’s coming apart but you can’t let yourself be swayed. You have to be strong, you have to be. He’s made it clear, so you have to leave and you have to do it for you.

“Why aren’t you letting me go?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let me go, Ken.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N - I’m sorry.”

And then it comes, like a reckoning. It’s divinity, and rips heaven in two pieces and let hell come from within it. Everything comes out and it comes so fast and you can’t control it. Fear, frustration, longing - it comes out of you in a rush.

“I just want to go home, Ken. You don’t want to talk about it, and I’m respecting your decisions so why won’t you just let me go? Why can’t you just let me leave quietly?”

He closes his eyes when you turn to him, and can't look at your tearful expression without feeling terrible.

“I know it’s hard for you, how hard your life has been. I’m so afraid of hurting you I don’t know what to do with myself half the time,” you shake your hand off. Your body trembles with rage, with frustration that bubbles over until it spills “But this isn’t fair. If I did something that made you treat me like this, just tell me and I’ll say sorry and leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave -’

“But this isn’t fuckin’ fair to me, damnit,” you hiccup a sob. You don’t mean too, don’t mean to cry. Don’t mean to sound so frustrated, don’t mean to make it about you “It’s not fair you raise your voice and get angry with me when I’m asking you a simple question. I could forgive you for that -”

You shake with rage, wiping your tears with your palms even when they come too fast. Draken has felt horrible in his life more times than he can count, but nothing more than now. This gut-wrenching feeling, like he knows. Like if Draken were a little more honest with himself he could’ve prevented this.

“But you don’t get to make me stay. You don’t get to cross that boundary with me and make me feel like this. I just want to go home, I’m so tired of mulling over this. I’m tired of seeing you go through this again and again and not knowing why. I’m tired of not talking to you for weeks because the person you’re with won’t let you talk to me,”

His face crumples again, crushing despair on his eyes. All you can do is cry, throat hoarse.

“But I forgave you, even when you didn’t ask for it, because I just wanted to be in your life. Even as friends, I want to be close to you.” You feel your jaw get tight with frustration “But I’m so fucking tired of feeling crazy for caring about you, so I’m not going to butt in anymore. And we don’t have to talk about it, I get it. You’ve made it clear, so please just let me go home. If you respect me at all, you’ll let me go home.”

You take a deep breath and turn to move on your heels and leave. You’ve said your piece. You’re so tired you feel like you could fall into the Earth and let it swallow you. Your head hurts from crying, so when the hiccuping settles - you wipe your eyes.

And if it wasn’t painful enough, clear enough that Draken fucked up terribly - at the end you give him a half-hearted smile. You feel pitiful and tired and it’s awful, but at least it’s settled. That gives you some semblance of relief, even if it hurts.

“I’m sorry I misread everything, but I get it now. Promise I’m not mad, so I’m gonna go home. I’ll see you on campus Monday. Get home soon, okay?”

Draken has to move, has to. He knows it’s not fair to you, but he can’t let things end like this. Not when he knows that if he leaves it here, this will be the end of the only thing he’s managed to find happiness in ages.

He knows he should let you go, but he can’t. He flips you around and drags you to his chest. You’re pulled into him more fast than you know what to do with. Draken has always been exceptionally tall and strong, but you feel the extent of it when he drags you into his arms. Strong arms and chest, Draken hugs you with all the strength he can muster. His hand cradles your head and he presses you to him with overwhelming strength.

He smells like home, like motor oil and cologne and home and you hiccup.

“Why’re you still holding me?” you manage through a broken sob, body melting into his so easily. You fit perfectly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he sounds so remorseful it shakes you to your core “Let it out. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.. didn’t mean it. You’re upset right? Let it out for me. Tell me you’re mad.”

“No,” ― you whine exhaustedly, shaking your head ― “You just feel bad for me cause I’m crying. It’s not special to you, I don’t wanna cry to you. I wanna go home and cry to Mitsu.”

“I don’t want you to cry to anyone but me.” he mumbles against your forehead. His arms feel so safe, but you try your best not to be swayed.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to be here. Let me go.” you plead, exasperated. These petulant, petty feelings. Everything is starting to make you sick.

You try to wiggle out of his grip but he only holds you tighter, so tight you can breathe.

“I can’t. It’s better if you’re mad, so just get mad at me. Just be angry, but I don’t want to let you leave.” he cradles your head to his chest “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to comfort me.” ― You hit his chest weakly, with no intent to hurt him ― “You don’t get to anymore. I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“I’ll stop crying, okay? I’m fine so could you please just -”

You start crying again, even after you just stopped. It frustrates you, when you wipe tears from your lashes all over.

“You’re still crying,” he mumbles, voice rough.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you feel again, overwhelmed with a wave of weakness. It feels humiliating, your cheeks burning in upset. “I don’t want to feel like this”

He’s silent, rubs those comforting circles in your back that only make you grieve harder. Your hands grip the front of his chest, forehead pressed to his chest as you shake in his arms.

“What do you want from me? What’s the point of this? Do you really feel this sorry for me? I didn’t ask for that, I don’t need it from you.” you grit.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, and you’re still crying into his arms. You don’t think you’ve ever been so worn out. And it’s quiet for so long, the silence heavy like a cross on sinners chest. You shut your eyes, uncertain. You just want to stop this, but you’re stuck.

“When I was 15,” ― His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear it. The only reason you can is because you’re so close to him ― “The first girl I ever loved.. Mikey's little sister. She uh.. she was killed.”

You freeze in his arms, and he hugs you a little tighter.

“It wasn’t my fault, or Mikey’s fault even though I beat his ass at the time. We couldn’t protect her” ― He hugs your waist to him, like he’s thinking about what to say ― “It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t just her. Wasn’t just anything, I think Mikey leaving without a word - that too.”

“I got used to seeing people die, but I really did love her as much as 15 year old me could love anyone.” ― He goes quiet for a beat before continuing ―”I know it wasn’t my fault, or anyones but those fucking bastards.”

His grip tightens, just slightly.

“But I couldn’t forgive myself for what happened. The first time I got into a relationship like that it was an accident, but that punishing feeling. Somehow, it felt like the right thing to do.” he says with a light laugh.

“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so much,” ― You say first, teary but settled. He’s almost startled by how easily your attitude changes, your voice tight and pained― “You were just kids. None of you deserved that,” you say earnestly.

He smiles at that.

“I don’t think we did either,”

“But you shouldn’t punish yourself,” you say, shaking your head, like you’ve thought about it plenty. “She wouldn’t want that for you, I know she would want you to be happy. And to live peacefully, at least.”

He doesn’t realize how long he’s needed someone to tell him that until the words leave your mouth. He hugs you tighter than before, and nods. It’s quiet for a while as you pull back.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. You give him a warbly smile. Your heart aches a little, but you pull away with understanding.

“Thanks for tellin’ me,” you smile sadly, mouth curled up. You can ignore the ache in your chest for now. For his sake.

“I’m gonna head home now,” you say, yawning, weary and unwilling “My head hurts, and I want to sleep and watch movies with Mitsuya.”

But, Draken stops you. His arms are still tight around and he’s looking down at you. At your face, teary and distressed. He can’t say for certain what Emma would’ve wanted, but he knows that you’re here now. And it’s not fair to you, hasn’t been in a long time.

Draken doesn’t want to punish himself anymore, but he can’t let you leave like this. And he trusts you, but the idea you’ll go home to Mistuya and he’ll wipe the tears off your face makes something makes his stomach tight. He furrows his brow.

“Are you sure that’s everything?” he prompts. You feel embarrassment bloom into your cheeks, heart feeling like it’ll ache. You’re embarrassed, so you look away. Your hand flies to his chest.

“I-I’m sure.” you flush, as he gets inches away from you. He grabs your jaw with his hands, making you look at him.

“Don’t lie to me.” ― His breath is warm, smells like 5 gum and is too close to you. Flusters you but you can’t look away ― “That’s not the only reason you were crying, was it?”

“Draken, please -”

“I want you to be honest with me. I’ll comfort you. I’ll say sorry, too. You think I wanna let you go home to Mitsuya and have him take care of you?” ― He grits his teeth, jaw feathers just thinking about it ― “No wonder you’re so pissed at me.”

Your expression softens and you can feel yourself going all soft again. You’re too tender for this right now, for his incessant prompting. Battered from all the emotional labor, you really don’t want to cope with your feelings for him like this. You feel yourself getting frustrated.

“I fucked up real bad, didn’t I?” ― his voice almost sounds like a coo, but it’s rough and low and apologetic ― “Made you think you weren’t special to me at all. Fuck, you know that’s not true, right?”

“Stop,” you shake your head, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

He cracks a sad smile at you.

“Were you mad at me when you saw me with ‘em?” ―He asks, eyes tracing your face, watching as tears form at your lashes ― “I don’t like making you mad. I really don’t like making you cry.”

You hit his chest with weak fists, crying again.

“Are you mad at me?”

“You’re so mean to me.” ― You hit his chest with closed fists, shaking a little ― “Why’re you so mean t’me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you,” you admit, unsure of how to proceed. “I still feel like you don’t.. I don’t wanna be selfish.”

“You can be selfish with me,” ― He grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, mouth brushing against your knuckles. With a lopsided smile he leans into your touch ― “You can be whatever you want.”

“Bet you say that to everyone.” you sniff. You know it’s petulant, petty but you feel like you’ve got a right. He chuckles.

“Not everyone,” He kisses your knuckles and you flush “Promise you’re my favorite girl.”

That makes you really shy. You look away that time, screwing your eyes together. Your stomach flutters with warmth and you can’t help but be nervous. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to do this, but your mouth is cottony. Your heart is pounding.

“Hey, look at me.”

“I don’t wanna.” you reply quickly. He tsks, turning your jaw.

You’re met with his face in front of you. Strong nose and brow, sharp eyes and brows. He’s handsome even covered in grease, and your stomach turns at the sight of him. He’s so overwhelming to be around, sharp canines peering through his lower lip when he glances at you. He squishes your cheeks together, lips smushed.

“Why don’t you wanna look at me, huh?”

You scrunch your nose, closing your eyes.

“Cause you’re mad? D’ya act like this with everyone?” He muses. Your face is still smushed in his big palms.

“Act like what?” you say through muffled huffs. He lets his nose brush against yours.

“Act so cute,” His lips are close, hands snaking to the back of your neck - palms cupping you close to him as he leans down “D’ya act so cute with everyone or just me? Does Mitsuya see you whine like this?”

“You’re so close.” you mumble stupidly. He chuckles.

“Yeah I am. I wanna kiss you. Gonna let me?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs, and it’s so warm. And you smile, and it’s so forgiving. You’re so forgiving to him.

“What do I have to do?” he asks, letting your arms come up around your necks.

“Tell me it again,” ― Your voice is sweet, like summer ― “That it’s me, that I’m your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite girl,” He presses his lips to yours “Can I take you home and show you?”

You shy away again but nod.

“Take me home, Ken. Wanna go home with you.”

__

Draken lives alone.

In an apartment on the upper-east side. He doesn’t have any roommates even though everyone in Toman has offered to stay with him. Insists he needs the alone time, after working with customers and rowdy folks all day. You’ve been to his apartment before, but it’s different this time. Normally all you’re doing is hanging out, but today he’s got a hand on your waist and his eyes following your silhouette.

Today, he shuts the door behind him before he pins you against it. Your body is littered with goosebumps. He’s so quick to kiss you, it startles you. Draken kisses aggressively, like he needs to get everything from you before he falters. He kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, big hands cupping your face. He cradles you like you’re a precious thing, kissing you again and again.

Kissing just to kiss, just because he wants to kiss you even though there’s a laundry list of things he wants to do to you. With you, right now he just wants to kiss you. His lips are soft and full, and he’s got a mouth that makes you feel warm from the inside out. It’s oddly adoring - this exchange. Drakens hands settling on your face. Can you tell that he loves you? Can you tell that he wants you more than anything?

He doesn’t know how to say it softly. He’s never been good at being anything other than honesty and fighting. But he’s trying to tell you he’s sorry, that he’s trying, that he wants you in the palm of his hands, that he wants to be happy. He wants to tell you it’s hard and he wants you to feel it - to cradle him in your arms and make him forget everything.

He hasn’t loved anyone properly before. In a time and place where he’s safe too. His heart is clumsy with yours. His hands are too heavy, touching too aggressively. He kisses you like he’s asking if you can’t take it, all of him. The parts of him that aren’t fixed.

You laugh into his heavy kisses, pulling away with a giggle.

“Ken, hey - slow down.” you voice it through an airy breath “Gotta get to your bedroom.”

“I can’t fuck you against my door?” he muses. You hit his chest lightly.

“Another time.” you say through a whisper, like a secret “After my finals, maybe.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Oh, shit I forgot about that.” he replies, kissing the corners of your mouth. “Another time.” he agrees.

He takes your hand and drags you to his bedroom. His room isn’t very big, with his bed taking up most of it, but it’s intimate. A king sized mattress is enough to fit him comfortably, and the two of you fall together. He turns on a dim light, just enough to see you.

Draken watches as you rustle against the sheets, your head hitting in the pillow with a smile on the corners of your mouth. You grin at him as he crawls on top of you. His leather jacket is shrugged off strong shoulders as he cages you in with his form, his forearms on either side of you. His eyes are dark when he glances over at you, thumbs wiping under your eyes.

“Don’t like that I made you cry.” he says, thumb smudged with black. You hum.

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t make you cry.” he sighs, frustrated.

“Are you planning too or something?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“Good, come kiss me.”

He smiles at you. You look like a dream, even like this. Tear-stained, tired, you still greet Draken warmly. He dips down to meet your mouth in a kiss, same as before but this time he doesn’t stop. His hands are big, calloused with consistently bruised knuckles and warm palms. They flush against your skin, your thighs bent back with Draken in between them.

You can feel your skirt ride up over your thighs as Draken leans over you, arms resting on either side of your head as he presses himself to you. The shape of his cock is obvious in his jeans, hard and heavy against your clothed cunt. Draken doesn’t let your mind wander too far from him - his hands dragging up your thigh, cupping your knees before sliding back down. The skin to skin makes you feel flushed as he keeps kissing you. Warm mouth, he slips his tongue against yours.

It’s thick - hot and heavy as a little saliva drips down the side of your cheek. Draken palms your entire body. Over your thighs, on your waist, and just briefly he’ll squeeze your tits through your tiny little sundress. He can tell you’re not wearing anything underneath, can feel the weight in his palms. You moan into his mouth when he touches you - groping every inch of your skin.

He rests at your hips, his thumb hooking underneath your sundress to pull it up over your panties. They’re cotton, printed with polka dots. Draken gets a brief glance at them. His eyes wander over your body - letterman splayed as your lower half is covered in goosebumps from the cold air. You bite your lip as your eyes flit up to his face, thinking about covering yourself with your hands.

Draken is wordless. He moves into action quickly, his hands going to take your jacket off your shoulders and leaving you in your short dress. The thick material slips off your skin and Draken places a kiss onto your shoulder. He leaves open mouth kisses all the way up your neck until you wiggle your arm out. Your hand rests on his shoulder as he moves to do the same to the other side.

You’re not even naked, but the slow undressing feels exposing - heart bared on your chest as he continues to slide you out of your coat. When your skin meets the air, his tongue traces against the goosebumps on your shoulders. He leaves hickies this time around. All the way up your neck as you feel his muscles with your hands. Warm skin, your mind is hazy with the feeling Draken’s teeth against your neck.

You can feel the blood rushing underneath your skin, how he breaks capillaries beneath the surface until they’ve bloomed a deep red, almost purple. They pulse for two beats even afterwards, and Draken leaves so many he almost feels sore. You know it’s meant to claim you, the way Draken touches you. You let your hands slide onto his face, cupping his ears and running your thumbs over the shell.

He looks at you tenderly, and you smile back.

“I’m all yours, Ken. Don’t rush.”

“All mine, yeah?”

“Yeah. All yours forever.”

“Forever?”

When your eyes meet, you can’t help but feel like you’ll fall into the floor. Because you say it, and Draken looks happy. The prospect of it gives him a wolfish grin and a warm glow all at once - his mouth in a wide smile that shows off the straight teeth.

He doesn’t say anything more, but he does kiss you again. Light presses of the mouth that feel like all the Thank You's you could ever ask for. He kisses you until you’re relaxed again and pulls back so he can take a good look at you. He takes your arms and holds them over your head.

“I know you don’t like listenin’ to me but could you be good and keep em there?” He muses.

“Who said that?”

“You, dummy. You’re real good at sayin’ at whatever you want.” He lets his head dip down to your neck, places kisses against your throat, down your chest until fabric gets in the way.

“Is this about… what I said in the shop?”

“If the rest of Toman heard you talk about your vibrator, don’t you think they’d go around picturing it? Especially Michi since he’s weak to you, anyways.” ― He scolds you lightly, but his eyes are serious ― “You’re a good girl, so act like one. You needa have good manners.”

“Were you thinking about it when I said it?” you take your lower lip between your teeth “Were you thinking about me?”

“I’m always thinking about you.” he replies easily.

His hands travel down to the bottom of your dress, from where it was pushed up over your stomach. He stares down at how it hugs your body, around your curves. Tight against your middle, let your tits press against the thin material. Instead of taking off right away, he simply lets his fingers pinch the fabric and pulls down until they fall out of the front.

It makes you gasp, the sudden rush of cold air making your nipples hard. Draken’s eyes drop to your chest, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of your skin. How they fall, how they sit - his hands shake as he reaches out for them.

But he takes in his palm regardless, lets his hands brush over the sensitive area and watches as your eyes flutter. You keep your hands still like he asks, above your head.

Draken makes quick work of touching you. His lips find your chest, kissing the underneath side of your tits with a soft hum. He lets his tongue dip, tastes the skin just below the roundest part. He treats them well, his free hand squeezing whichever one he can’t pay enough attention to you. You squirm underneath him, trapped under his weight. Your feet kicked, your toes curled as you shy away from him.

“Ken,” you whimper. He looks up at you with an easy smile, head tilted as he takes both and squeezes them together.

“Yeah?”

“More,” you whine, already embarrassed over asking “Please, please.”

He finally closes his mouth around where you need him most, leaning over to spread your legs apart. His tongue slides against the hardened bud, leaves a wave of heat running through it as he sucks on it, licks on it with content and his eyes closed. Your body feels light when he touches you. Arms still rested over your head, you roll your body against Drakens.

His fingers are big. You feel them, light over your clothed cunt. He lets his middle finger run over wet fabric. Your mind goes blank as soon as you feel the warmth of him against your body. His weight is heavy, pressing you firmly into the mattress. Draken listens to your gasp and his lips curl up. He likes the sound of your voice, the breathlessness in it.

“Does that feel good?”

“Ken,” your voice is soft in his ears.

“What is it baby?”

You whine when he calls you baby. His voice is so deep. It makes your heart jump into your throat. His fingers go again over the wet-spot, soaking his fingers until they’re sticky. He rubs you again and again. You feel him everywhere on your skin, his mouth is just as relentless as the rest of him but nothing is more embarrassing than his hands and how they make your panties stick to your folds. They cling to you pretty, the light fabric outlining every inch.

You roll your hips into his hand without thinking about it, Again and again, until you’re practically rubbing yourself into his palm. But Draken indulges you, watches your face through amused eyes as you grind yourself, voice wobbly as you chase your own high without thinking twice. Draken cups your pussy through your panties with nothing but affection, watching you work for it. He’s never seen you so distracted before. He lets you go, smiling when you call his name.

“Ken,” you huff, voice trembling. The friction is good. Draken is so sturdy, and every time you press - he presses back. Every rut of hips, he meets. He bites your nipple gently to get your attention, and your eyes flutter open to his face.

“D’ya need me here at all?” he teases. You blink at him, nodding.

“It’s your fault I’m like this.” you manage, just barely keeping yourself together.

“Gonna cum just like this? Can you?”

“Really wanna,” you admit, dazed and desperate “Wanna cum f-for you. Want you to watch me.”

“Fuck.. fuck - you’re gonna kill me.” He mumbles, nipping your skin with his teeth “Where’d you learn all this from?”

“Just like you, Ken.” you admit. He feels his cock twitch when you say his name like that, like the reason you’re so worked up it’s because it’s him who you’re getting off on. Draken’s always been a gentleman, kind and thoughtful.

But seeing you grind so fucking desperately into his palms - while he sucks your tits and watches you, it makes him feel something he can only describe is animalistic. Sex is always good, but it’s you. You, riding his palms and whining his name and he wants to sink his cock into you more than he wants to breathe air. Wants to make your pussy soft before he fucks into you with all he has. You’re so fucking beautiful, it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt.

“Ken, Ken, Ken.”

“Gonna cum for me just like this, sweetheart?”

You nod, all worked up. Draken kisses between your tits and watches as your breathing goes ragged. The pleasure is desperate, a fizzing sensation. It’s not enough, not quite what you want but you like the feel of it. The pressure on your clit just from rutting on Drakens palms. He watches with fascination as you get yourself off, something sweet in your tone as you whine. Deep and needy, your whole body shudders. You cum hard, stain your panties till they’re soaked - all for Draken and he lets you. All your nerves feel like they’re on fire, you’re not exhausted but wanting.

You cum on Drakens palm, and open your eyes to look at him. You feel delirious as you stare at him.

“Have fun?” he asks, wholly amused. You nod.

“Want more,” you confirm.

“You wanna cum for me more?”

You nod, and Draken presses his fingers against your lips. You open obediently, eyes meeting him as you run your tongue around his digits. He wonders if you’re doing it on purpose, the way you look at him makes his patience thin. He wants to fuck you so deep, with your knees bent all the way back for him. Your legs up, letting him all the way in.

It’s all he can think about, everything else just another vessel to fuck into you every which way.

Draken decides it then - kissing you one last time for good measure before slipping down again.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers, okay?” He tells you more than asks. You nod for him, your arms reaching forward to circle his neck so you can kiss him deep one more time. He kisses you, sucks on your tongue until you’re panting into his mouth. His nose bumps yours when you pull off, kissing the tip of it so adoringly. It’s almost like he isn’t itching to be balls deep inside of you, something soft about how he kisses the corners of your mouth.

Draken keeps kissing you. Down your chest, past your navel, all the way until his face is facing your panties. You struggle to breathe, just seeing his face between your legs loosens your mind. You feel another wave of fire burn underneath your skin. Draken runs his tongue against your core, moaning against your cunt with a heavy sigh. You whine - pure white heat flaring through your gut.

His arms are strong as they maneuver underneath your thighs - his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties. He watches with a bated breath as it unsticks from your pussy, a thin line of arousal as he pulls them off of your body. He puts them in the pocket of his jeans before caressing your thighs again.

He nudges your knees apart with his shoulders, your feet flat on the bed. He stares at you for so long, you shy away but Draken pins you with his body. He’s almost mesmerized by it, the way your clit shines with arousal, throbbing and so pretty. Draken has so many things he wants to do with you, but he wasn’t expecting to feel so much urgency about getting his mouth on you.

He kisses your clit first, once then twice - before he lets his tongue dip. He dips down, starts at your hole and gathers cum on the tip until he’s around your clit. It feels fucking dirty, the heat of his mouth against your pussy. Draken has always been loud when he eats, you’ve seen it before so many times. Still, nothing could prepare you for seeing him between your legs. For feeling the heavy drag of his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves, between your folds until your twitching.

Your fingers twist into the sheets as electricity crawls up your spine, making your neck twitch. Draken lets spit drop onto your clit with the tip of his tongue, spits on it before going in again. All you can think about is his mouth on your sex, how he slurps and spits and eats messily just to watch you writhe and twist. You feel like you might melt, a light bit of humiliation making your skin itchy as Draken eats you out with enough enthusiasm that you croak.

“Ken, o-oh.”

“Pretty fucking pussy,” ― He practically moans against you, licking your clit again before sucking it onto his tongue ― “Gotta get it messy so it can take me, yeah? Make sense?”

You want to say something but you’re blank. Draken is distracting, mouth latched onto your heat with no other concern. You feel your body convulse, not expecting to be cumming again so soon. The cool down was so short, and you’re already chasing a high again. But this time it’s Drake setting the pace. Lapping at you like he’s on a mission. He groans against you every now and again, feeling as it reverberates through you.

Your body feels pliant, soft like your soul might slip from it. Your knuckles are almost white from how tightly you hold on. Your body is tense, breathing uneven as Draken massages your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, oh - o-oh fuck Ken, I’m gonna… fuuuck.”

You let out a loud groan, feeling all the tension in your gut coil tight before coming apart completely. You don’t know how it happens, but you’re cumming all over Drakens face, his nose bumping your clit as he makes sure to catch all of it on his tongue. He dips inside with your tongue, groaning at how tight you clamp down it as you spasm. Your back arches off the mattress, as you twitch shamelessly. You cup a hand over your mouth as your eyes roll back into your head.

You cum and it feels like it goes on forever. You don’t get a breather. Draken presses a kiss to your inner thigh, but before you can understand what’s happening - he’s got a hand resting on your navel. His thumb pulls you back, spreads you apart so he can get a good view of it twitching. You’re speaking through short sentences, shivering constantly as the aftershock overwhelms you.

“What’re you… mmfuck.. what’re you doin?” You slur tiredly.

“Looking at you.”

He says that it's a solid answer. You blink down at him, one eye at a time. Your whole body breaks out into tremors when it releases tension and brushes against your clit. You choke out a cry.

“‘s sensitive, Ken. Fuck, hnggh.”

It really was sensitive, too sensitive almost. Enough that it aches everywhere Draken touches you. Everything was overwhelming, even his warm breaths but you were still wired with lust. Your body was still aching for more, greedy and worked up after cumming twice already.

Draken has no plans of cutting you loose. Instead, you watch him with labored breath as he slides his fingers against your sensitive core before he sinks his middle finger into you with ease. He spits on it again, like it’s not messy enough and your whole mind starts to splinter when you feel his finger start to stretch you.

Draken is more often than not silent when he watches you, getting familiar with your cues. His eyes are fixated to how your walls grip down on to his middle finger, the greedy sensation as he so slowly pushes through. Draken doesn’t want to hurt you. Knows he could, not unaware of his size. But more than that, he’s fixated on you. Everything in him wants to claim your cunt for himself, wants you to crave him. He has this unspoken desire to make you all his, always.

And stretching your cunt out with his fingers is part of that. You feel yourself struggling to handle it. You’re so sensitive. Even just one thick finger is enough to remind you of it. When the first finger is knuckle deep, he curls it up. Drakens fingers are long, fit perfectly against your g-spot.

Your mouth drops open, shoulders shaking as he rubs against it easily. It’s not enough but the overwhelming, suffocating sensation makes your whole body reel. You need to cum again, but your body is craving so much more. All you can do is take it patiently, let Draken work you open with his middle finger.

“Gonna break you in half,” ― Draken hisses, eyes burning as he watches how you stretch around his fingers ― “Dick is gonna break you right in two.”

“Ken, fuck.”

“You’re gonna feel so good on my dick baby, I need you to stretch for me so I can give it to you.”

You cry out, feeling as Draken so carefully adds another finger. He’s so thick, even like this you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. Draken’s dick is so fucking big - you don’t know how you’re going to handle him when he fucks you. The thought alone has your spine arching, body flailing with desperation as he slips another finger inside. As he fucks you with them, stretches you wide on them - as far apart as he can.

And he fingerfucks you, just like that. Pumps his digits in and out of your sweet cunt with a guttural groan, the soft slick noise as he fucks them. You sound perfect when you cry out for him - even though you feel so fucking desperate for more. It feels good but you’re craving him. You want to be closer, wanna feel his body cage you in when he pounds you. It feels good but you need more. Want it even if it hurts.

“Draken, Draken, Draken - more.”

“Want my dick, baby? Are you ready for it?”

You could almost sob. It’s out of body, the desperation so apparent that you're sweating just from concentration. You’re so impossibly turned on, heating from the inside out - feverish with lust and aching with pure, vulgar need. You need him, need him, need him.

“Please, fuck me - I can’t take it, I can’t.” your voice shakes as you plead with him. You watch as Draken stands on his knees between your legs. Your eyes are almost teary, so Draken practically tears his shirt off before meeting your mouth in a kiss. He’s sating you, wants to tease you but he needs you just as bad.

“Fuck, mm - baby, I don’t have any condoms.” He warns. You kiss him again, needy.

“Don’t care.”

“Are you -”

“Ken, please just fuck me, please.”

He’s not in any headspace to deny you, so he doesn't bother. You moan into his mouth when you hear his jeans unzip, the noise taunting. The fabric of his pants rustles as he rushes to take his cock out. He shivers when the cold air hits it, and you peer down between the two of you to see it.

Your hands reach between your bodies, to squeeze it. You knew Draken was going to be big. But you couldn’t imagine him being so big. So impossibly big, his cock is fucking massive. It almost startles you, if you weren’t so horny it might. But so hazy, all you can do is stroke it with a whine fettering in the back of your throat.

“You’re so fucking big, Ken - holy shit, ‘s so big.” You cry out. He grits his teeth at the contact from just your hands, rutting against your hands.

“Hold your legs back for me, baby,” ― He instructs, watching as you guide your legs apart - legs in half as Draken spits onto your cunt for second time before spitting into his palm, getting himself slick ― “There you fucking go. Fuck yeah, just like that. Stay just like that.”

Both of you are so restless, the air fucking buzzing. Your eyes are glued to Draken, to his cock and how big and heavy it is. The tip is darker than the rest, but it’s thick and heavy, uncut and so fucking big. Draken slides it against your folds, his whole body shaking. Your lip is between your teeth, anticipation making you delirious.

Then you feel him. The tip of his massive cock, stretching your pussy out so impossibly. Everything in your head goes absolutely blank when you feel it. Your whole body reacts to it, when Draken curses loudly under your breath and you whimper with pure desire. The ache you’ve been feeling for what ages finally feels sated by Draken sinking his cock inside of you. Your walls clamp down desperately on him, around him. You can’t look away, chanting his name like some kind of prayer as he fucks the tip into you so slow.

“Holy fuck baby,” ― He grunts, forcing himself to slow down before he fucks into in one go ― “Holy fuck, your pussy is so fucking perfect. Fuck, fuck - you take me so fucking good. You feel so good, shit.”

“Draken, fuck - the whole thing, need it deeper.”

You grab desperately at his hips, and he’s startled by how forward you are. Your body gives out as his whole cock fucks into you. It feels like it’s in your womb, in your cervix how it breaches you. It’s so fucking deep. So deep it knocks in your lungs. You feel like the entire world is coming apart at the seams, your body shuddering before breaking out into hot flashes. It happens before you understand it, your spine arching impossibly as your pussy clamps down fucking tight around Drakens cock. The pain from the stretch is minimal, washed out from pure pleasure. Blinding, burning like a star falling from the sky.

“S-shit, did you just cum? From me putting it in?”

He doesn’t need an answer. He can feel it, feel you - feels your nails in his shoulders as you cum and cum and cum. You’re silent minus a few deep cries, an almost agonizing orgasm washing over you. Your pussy clamps down onto him like a vice, milks him for everything he’s worth. You’re breathing like you just ran a mile, sweat running down your temple and on your whole body in a thin sheet. You’re still so desperate as you cum but you cling to him.

“Fuck me, Ken. Give it to me, want it so fucking bad.”

“Shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

But Draken heeds your word. He grabs your knees and folds you up, letting his thighs press against yours. He pulls out, lets it smack against your clit before fucking the entire thing right back into you.

He fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever want to do. He pistons you, his dick practically beating against your g-spot like a heavy drum. Draken has good rhythm, but his pace is brutal and unforgiving. He fucks you into the matress, so deep that every movement makes your body shake. All you can is lay there and take it, cry his name out even as your voice goes hoarse. Drakens fucks you with everything he has.

“Fuck you take me so good. Gonna cum so deep in you, fuck baby.”

His words all feel hazy in your mind. It still feels so fucking good, and Draken sets the pace so right. Knocks against your g-spot. You can’t fucking believe yourself, it doesn’t feel real until your voice chokes it out. It’s over when his thumb rubs harsh circles into your clit - something rips you two. Before your mind can even catch up - you’re throwing your head back and thrashing.

“C-cumming, cumming..!”

You’re not certain how much more of it you can handle, but Draken fucks you like you’ve just started. He takes a breather, briefly just to see how much you’ve cum around his cock.

“Wanna make you feel it deeper, get on your knees for me baby. Arch your spine up.”

He manhandles you into it, so easily like you weigh nothing. You press your cheek against his pillow, mouth drooling as Draken presses a hand on your spine pushing you down.

“Deep breath for me.” he instructs. You try your best to keep up with him, but your mind is melted. You take a deep breath, as much as you can - before you feel Drakens cock pushing into you again. It aches a little more this time, but Draken goes slower.

“Play with your clit for me, beautiful,” He murmurs. You snake a hand between your legs, twitching as you feel his cock inside of you again. Your fingers tremble from the stimulation, but you moan as you struggle. You keep twitching. Shaking every time you move. Draken is much more gentle, the pace forgiving because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

But you still feel it, and it’s so much more invasive like this. It hurts despite how stretched your cunt is, but when it feels good it feels so fucking good. Your mind is practically numb as you feel Drakens cock inside of you again, your pussy melding effortlessly around him. Feels like you were made for him, soft and sweet and tight. Perfect pussy, so pretty.

Draken eases himself before bending over you. His hands grip your hips, his whole chest pressing to your back as he shows his cock all the way inside. You whine from a mix of pain and pleasure. Draken eventually gets his hand around your hips, replaces your small fingers with his big ones. He rubs circles into your clit much better than you could.

You thought he was deep before, but this is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. It feels like it’s pressed into your gut, a permanent deep pressure, making your spine ache. Your pussy feels like it’s spread and stretch and so fucking full. You’re overwhelmed when Draken speaks.

His hand presses against your middle, your tummy - and he grunts as he eases the rest of his cock into you with a grunt.

“Feel how deep I am. Can you feel me in your stomach?”

“Ken, I can’t.”

“Promise you can, take a deep breath.”

You try your best, but it’s so hard to think when Draken’s cock feels like it’s in your throat. You fall forward and Draken laughs. He sheathes himself as deep as he can go, before taking your hands and placing them behind your back. He pushes you down with the weight of his body, grunting at how tight you get for him. Despite the position, all you can think about is Draken.

The rasp of his voice in your ear, his strong chest against your spine, hands gripping your hips rutting himself inside of you. The feeling is indescribable - your jaw aching from gasping and grunting as Draken starts to pound into you. The hearboad knocks onto the wall, the power of his thrusts sending you forward. Your knees are weak, Draken carefully snaking a hand onto your clit as he starts to fuck you again. Deeper, faster, harder.

“My favorite fucking girl.” He grunts, feeling his own release coming soon “Can you cum for me one more time? For me, please, baby.”

You can’t, you’re certain you’re not gonna be able to cum again so you whimper Drakens name. All you can do is take it, mind swimming. You’re so fucked out, pussy sensitive and aching - trembling from overstimulation. You swear you can’t, you won’t.

Until you do. Until Draken fucks into you just right, just deep enough and everything comes out of you. Your throat lets out a strangled noise, eyes going wide as something heavy handing hits you like a train. Your orgasms feel like a crash, like you’re falling. Your whole body gives in as an intense spike of pleasure shatters your mind completely. You cunt grips onto Draken so tight, he stops - catching his breath as you milk him with everything you have. Your thighs tremble, your entire body taut as you cum so hard you can’t breathe.

“F-fuck, baby, gonna fucking cum in you - shit!”

Drakens grip is bruising as he pumps you full of his cum, hot and thick and catching onto the deepest parts of you as he finishes with a guttural groan. He cums deep inside of you and your mind melts as he fills you completely. His cock feels so perfect, you reach back to keep him inside of him when he finishes - exhausted but not wanting him to pull out. You simply let him collapse onto you as your eyelids go heavy and he collapses on top of you.

“You know you’re my favorite right? That I love you?”

“I love you too, Ken.”

__

You don’t remember much when you wake up the next day.

You remember the sex well, the fight too - but you don’t remember when you fell asleep. You’re sore when you wake up, sitting up. You’re in an oversized shirt, so big it must be even a little oversized on Draken. You’re naked, no panties and just a shirt over your body. You cover your face in your hands as your thighs are sore, groaning.

Draken is wearing joggers and a fitted white shirt as he leans against the doorframe. He gives you a wolfish grin, dark hairs framing his face - a rubber-band on his wrist.

“Morning little lady,” ― He says, smug ― “Did you have sweet dreams?”

You groan, too shy to look at him properly. You cover your face with your hands, shooing him as he approaches you.

“C’mere,” He gestures. You crawl towards him shyly, standing on your knees to be somewhat at face with him. You lean up a little, and he cranes his neck down to meet your lips. His hands dance against your waist with a warm grin as you kiss him, hands in his hair. He lets his nose brush against yours.

“I could get used to this,” he hums. You nip at his jaw with your teeth.

“You better.”

He laughs.

“Anything for you.”

[mysticalrambling]

Hi!!!!!!! I have a request for you😋

Its something to do with the recent Chris and Lizzo interaction(no hate to her). Can you write something about their recent interaction, like chris and lizzo talking about the baby joke and the internet goes nuts. But what chris doesn't know is that his girlfriend feels hurt, that he is disregarding her feelings, like its kind of humiliating to the reader, that chris her boyfriend is talking about baby with other person when he has his own girlfriend and she is hurt by him. She confronts Chris but he just gets mad and calls her jealous and insecure, which hurts her further and she just gets mad and leaves his house. Later when Chris mom sees the news she scolds him about joking of having a baby with someone else and hurting his partner then he understands how his girlfriend must have felt and they recincile. I hope you're getting what i m saying sorry if it sounds confusing, but can you write it? 🤗

Facing Realities (C.E)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it and I am open to more requests.

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: You feel unimportant when Chris can easily discuss about having a child with Lizzo in public but will always dismiss you when you bring up the topic. Getting in to a fight, you leave him and he eventually realises his mistake because of his mom.

Warnings: Angst but eventual fluff.

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“The fans want to know about the Instagram dms between the two of you.” The reported quizzed Lizzo and Chris as they both sat in front of him on the couch.

“Well, our baby is going to be the best.” Lizzo spoke with amusement clear in her eyes.

“The world is going to have a little Captain America at their hands soon, right Lizzo?” Chris chuckled.

“Right. And how is your new movie coming along?” The interviewer started asking different questions and soon it was all over.

“Will see you soon Cap. Say hi to (Y/N) for me.” With a quick hug, she left the studio with her usual power walk. Chris just shook his head slightly when he heard all the fans asking her about the baby. They were all truly something and Lizzo just went through them without giving a response.

You didn’t have anything against Lizzo because you knew that everything between her and Chris was platonic. The fact that Chris was so open to discuss about having a baby was what bothered you. He always dismiss you when you wanted to talk about your future and extending your family. It felt like you were the only one in this world that Chris did not want to talk to regarding this topic. This made you feel worthless and pathetic.

You knew that jealousy wasn’t the right word to describe your emotions right now but that’s what it felt like. Confronting people was never your thing and you always did what they asked instead of arguing. It was much easier but you knew that you couldn’t get away with this. This was in regards to your future and so when Chris was going to come home from his interview, you were going to talk to him about it.

“Honey, I am home.” Losing his jacket on the love seat, he made his way towards the kitchen because it was dinner time and he could smell the delicious food from the hallway.

“Hi babe. I am making your favorite. Just go and freshen up.” You stated not turning back because you knew you would break the instant your eyes landed on your boyfriend.

He came to the dining table in his sweats and dived into the food immediately because he was starving. “So…” You tried starting up a conversation but backed down when you saw his questioning gaze trained on you. “Um how was the interview?”

“It was nice. Lizzo and I talked about the baby. God, I just love that woman.” The self doubt in your mind was growing by the minute because he was casually talking about a baby with another woman. He didn’t realise that he was hurting your feelings and he just kept on talking about how amazing it would be to actually have a baby with Lizzo.

“So have you ever thought about extending our family?” You finally mustered up some courage to ask him the question.

“No, I haven’t. We can talk about it another time. So what did you today?” The dismissal in his tone was enough to break your heart into tiny pieces.

“But we have too, Chris. We have been in a relationship for the past three years.”

“I do not want to discuss it today so just drop it (Y/N).” The stern look would have made you back down in a normal situation but not today.

Dropping your fork on the plate, you spoke with irritation, “You never want to have this discussion with me but you would gladly do it with Lizzo.”

“I knew it had something to do with her. Why are you so jealous?”

“I am not jealous. It’s just that you are willing to discuss about your baby with everyone except me.”

“There is nothing going on between Lizzo and I, if that’s what you mean.”

“I know that. I just want to know if you have ever thought about having kids with me or am I just a fling to you?” You we’re absolutely done with him at this point and you dreaded his answer.

“(Y/N), I have told you a million times that you are not a fling. What are you on about?”

“It just seems that I am no longer the person that you want to discuss things with. It’s just not about the whole kid thing but you didn’t even tell me that you are starting in a new movie. I had to find it from the fucking paparazzi.”

“I was going to tell you and I am just not ready for a family yet.”

“Well instead of ignoring me every chance you got, you could have told me about it.” The frustration in your eyes was clear but Chris chose to ignore it. It was as if he was totally immune to all of your emotions.

Whenever the topic of children came up, Chris didn’t tinker why he acted like a jerk. He had always thought about expanding his family but when you came in to the picture, he was so terrified of losing you that he couldn’t even think what a baby would do to your relationship.

“I am not good with all this and you need to be patient with me.”

“All I have ever been is patient for you. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Sudden realization dawned upon him and he was left speechless.

“I need a break from you. Call me when you figure everything out.”

“(Y/N), you are doing this because of Lizzo. Stop acting like an insecure and jealous bit-” Stopping mid sentence, he looked at you in horror.

Tears sprang in your already damp eyes, “Why are you stopping now? Finish the sentence, Chris.”

“(Y/N), I-”

“Good bye, Chris.” Walking out of your once shared home was the most difficult thing that you had to do in this life but there was no other choice. You both were at an impasse and you needed time to sort it all out. Hailing a taxi, you went to your friend, Scarlett’s house. She was a mutual frond of you both but she had become your best friend in the past three years.

Meanwhile, Chris downed a whole bottle of scotch and sat in your shared bedroom with your picture in his hand. He didn’t want to lose you to a stupid argument but he failed to see that he was at fault. Sleeping without you proved as a heinous task and he gave up after two hours. He just sat in the bed alone and hoped to God that you will come back to him. A life without you wasn’t a life at all. However, Chris would not be the one to apologise because in his opinion, he didn’t do anything wrong.

The passing few days, you absolutely refused to get out of the house and stayed holed up in Scarlett’s guest bedroom. “(Y/N), you need to eat something.” Your friend barged in with a tray full of food and you instantly felt nauseous.

“Not in the mood, Scar.” Your eyes had been red and puffy for the last week but you didn’t care. Chris was the only one that you cared about. However, you could not be in a relationship that had no future. You deserved better than that.

“You need to eat and get out of this mood. It’s making me depressed.”

“I don’t care. Leave me alone.” Snapping at her was never your intention and you instantly regretted it. “I am sorry. I am just not in the right frame of mind.”

“It’s okay. You want to watch something.”

“Yeah, F.R.I.E.N.D.S.”

Chris was no better than you or maybe even worse. He hadn’t changed out of his sweats for the past two days and had a slight scruff covering his face. Empty bottles of alcohol laid around the whole house and rotten food was placed on the kitchen counter. The whole house was a mess and he didn’t care about anything. Except you. Everything in this house reminded him of you and he hated it. From the bedroom walls to the well groomed garden.

The phone rang for the millionth time and he picked it up from the nightstand. It was his mom. Sighing, he finally picked it up. “Christopher Robert Evans, where the hell have you been?”

“I was at home, mom.” The loose thread on your pillowcase suddenly seemed more interesting than the phone conversation.

“With (Y/N)?”

“She left me, mom.” Chris didn’t want to talk about it but he figured that his mom wouldn’t leave him alone otherwise.

“Serves you right. You left her no other choice.”

“How can you say that? I haven’t done anything.”

“I saw the interview, Chris. Have you ever talked with (Y/N) about extending your family?”

“No but I was just joking with Lizzo.”

“It doesn’t matter. She would have felt unimportant because this is a very private matter and she was not a part of it.”

“But-”

“Imagine if the roles were reversed.” Realisation dawned upon him and he quickly said goodbye to his mother because he had a girlfriend to win back. Every second spent without you was agonizing and he never wants to experience it.

“(Y/N), Chris is here to see you.” Peeking her head through the door, Scarlett informed you about your boyfriend. You quickly untangled yourself from the sheets and ran to the washroom. You wanted to look presentable but Chris could see the dark circles under your eyes and your thin figure. There was a sudden pang in his heart because he knew this was all his doing.

“I am sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have said anything. I am a fool. Please forgive me.” He started ranting as soon as Scar left the room.

“Chris, have you thought about what I said?” Your calm aura was scaring his wits so he quickly answered with a yes. “Please elaborate.”

“I have realised that I was at fault and I am going to be more open about the future of our relationship from now on.” The sincere look in his eyes was hard to miss.

“Promise?” Gone was the calm and collected exterior, and stood before him was a vulnerable young woman.

“I promise, baby. Now, will you come back home? I have missed you.”

“Yes and I missed you too.” Kissing him on the lips, you sighed because this was your heaven and you wouldn’t want to leave it for the world.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

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A/N: I love Chris Evansand I was happy to write a fanfiction about him. If you guys have any more request, I will be happy to write about them and message me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile 

Like, comment and reblog.

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[beskarberry]

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

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[julemmaes]

Like I'm Drowning

Rowaelin Month, Day Twelve

A/N: Sorry about this, blame @thewayshedreamed, she's the one who wanted more angst.

This will have a fourth part, for obvious reasons;)

part one, part two

Word count: 3,874

It was two days after Aelin had left their home. It was about eleven o'clock in the evening when the walls of what had once been his favourite place had shaken with the force of Lorcan's fists on the front door, shouting at Rowan to let him in.

He had not answered.

He couldn't have done so even if he'd wanted to because his legs had stopped working and the muscles in his neck had been reduced to jelly over the last forty-eight hours, sip after sip of whatever alcohol he'd found in the cabinet.

He lay on the floor, his face in a pool of his own vomit, too heedless to care, too sore to move. In any case, he had stopped smelling the stench hours ago.

Another ten minutes had passed, in which his best friend had threatened over and over again to call the police if he didn't open the fucking door, before Lorcan had slammed his shoulder into it.

He hadn't been able to move in time when the door unhinged from the wall fell partially on him, hitting him in the head with one of the now splintered edges. He grunted in pain and could smell the blood as it began to trickle down his forehead, onto his nose, and he was relieved - he wasn't dead. Rowan had not been sure of it until that moment.

The other was there an instant later, taking the door off him, leaning it against the wall.

And the sharp breath he took was a dagger straight to Rowan's heart.

He didn't want him to see him like this.

He had never heard Lorcan's voice like that. So shocked, so worried. Whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment were blocking him from approaching him. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. Of breaking him more than he already was.

Rowan shook his head what he could, he didn't want him to see him like this. He didn't deserve his help.

"God, Rowan, what have you done?"

The relief at finding out he was still alive lasted a moment though, as the pain in his chest hit him so hard it took his breath away and he pulled himself up onto all fours before yet another wave of gags shook his body. He opened his mouth, hoping that this time something would come out, but he choked on nothing. His eyes filled with tears and Rowan wondered how that was possible.

There should have been nothing in his body.

He’d been in this conditions since the day before.

He felt a hand settle on his back, rubbing up and down as Lorcan tried to figure out what was going on, and his brain betrayed him, showing him images of a life he had taken for granted all along, from the second she had been his.

Him on the bathroom floor a few months earlier.

A box of somewhat-too-spicy Chinese food on their coffee table.

And Aelin.

Her hands on his back.

He shook off Lorcan's hand, "Don't touch me."

The words burned his throat and another gag went up his esophagus.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes, his back rising and falling frantically with each breath where he seemed to be unable to get enough air in.

"Rowan."

He didn't look at him. He couldn't.

"Rowan, you hear me?"

Lorcan ducked down, crouching beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he seemed to remember what he'd just asked him not to do as soon as he gave him a startled look. If he touched him again, he didn't know what his broken mind would show him. He was terrified of it.

With a grimace, Lorcan clenched both hands into fists and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sour smell of vomit and what Rowan was ashamed to admit was his own piss reached his nostrils. When he opened them again there was a distinct determination in his gaze and Rowan had to pull his eyes back to the floor.

He thought he had found a sort of calm in which he might even be able to answer Lorcan's questions, but he was wrong. He was so wrong.

"What happened?”

“I feel-” he tried to speak, failing, “I feel like I’m drowing.”

“Why? What happened?” he asked again. And then the final hit, “Where's Aelin?"

There was no stopping the first sob. His vision went totally blurry, blackening everything in front of him until all he could see was the image of her, and his chest constricted to the point where breathing was no longer even an option. He fell to the side, against the wall, and there was no stopping the desperate crying that washed over him.

***

It was three days after Aelin had left their home. It was eight o'clock in the evening when Elide and Lorcan had asked him if he would like to go back there after leaving the hospital. It was twenty past eight when they had reached his street and he was counting down the seconds till he got to smell her perfume in the air again.

He had entered the house and tried not to breathe through his nose, realising he was not ready to remember what her scent was. He noticed how everything had been cleaned, tidied up or fixed and he didn't have the mental or physical trength to turn around, hug his friends and thank them.

He looked towards the kitchen, on the table. The letter was no longer there.

"Where is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

He hadn't spoken in the last few hours. Not to the couple he knew was staring at him from the doorway.

He'd been forced to answer questions from the doctors, from his coaches asking him how much time he needed. Lorcan had warned him that he'd lied for him, that he'd told them someone dear to them both had suffered a serious injury and died.

Rowan had looked at him and said a simple thank you while he lay on his hospital bed, despite knowing how much a fuckup of that magnitude risked not only his career, but Lorcan's as well.

It was Elide who had the courage to answer him, "What?"

"The letter."

"Oh." she whispered, "I put it in your room."

He nodded. Running a hand over his face he turned to them, noting how they both looked ready to launch themselves forward if they thought Rowan was going to crumble once more time.

He saw Lorcan clench his jaw and then look away before saying, "You won't find any alcohol, I threw away what was left."

Elide smiled at him with watery eyes, trying to change the subject as fast as possible, "If you need anything, you can always come to our place. You know that. We have-"

He interrupted her abruptly. He didn't look at her as he said in a harsh tone, "Thank you for everything, you can go now."

She took a sharp breath, nodding dryly and turning, hurrying out of the house. Lorcan followed her with his gaze the whole time, telling her he would join her in the car in a moment.

When he met Rowan's gaze again, the voice was the one he'd used all the years in high school when he'd been his captain. It gave no room for argument.

"I don't know what you're going through. I don't even want to begin to think about how painful it is to lose someone so important."

She didn’t die, he wanted to say. She left me.

I gave up on her. I don’t deserve her.

The steel mask Rowan was wearing seemed to be already starting to crack. He needed Lorcan to leave before he couldn't control his emotions.

He had already done too much for him.

He didn't deserve any of what they were offering him. He didn’t deserve anything.

"I can hardly imagine what I would do if I were in your position. If Elide-" he paused, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, for what's happening. It's not easy, I understand, but whatever you're doing right now, it's not the solution. Treating me and Elide like this isn't going to drive us away, and before you tell me you don't need anything, let me just say that finding you lying in a pool of your own vomit completely hammered, out of your mind was one of the most horrifying things I've ever had to see." he took a step forward, placing a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

He had the instinct to pull away, but the grip on his jacket tightened, pinning him in place.

"I'm not letting you go, okay? I'm not going to let you throw away your career like this," he told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to lecture you about what happened the other day. I know I would have done a lot worse, but you have to promise me that it won't happen again."

Lorcan's voice faltered at last and Rowan was surprised to see his eyes glaze over.

He nodded, his mouth slightly open, shocked at his friend's reaction.

"Promise me."

He hurried to whisper, "I promise."

Lorcan nodded, pulling Rowan to him and hugging him. He closed his eyes as the man in front of him held him together without even realising.

When they pulled away, they pretended not to hear the way they were sniffing, or the tears on both men's cheeks. They said a simple goodbye and then Rowan was alone.

Again.

He climbed the stairs slowly, walking like a dead man down the corridor filled with memories of him carrying Aelin in his arms on that very floor, and when he reached the door to their room, he hesitated.

He brushed against the knob, gripping it in his hand.

He stared at the wood in front of him and felt panic assail him.

Rowan turned on his heel, running for the stairs, the exit, hoping that Lorcan had not already left.

He threw open the door of the ghost-filled house and ran out, intent on never returning.

***

It was two weeks after Aelin left their home. Eleven days since he'd run away in a panic. Ten days since Lorcan had convinced Rowan to go back there, at least to pack up his things.

Nine days since Rowan had destroyed their room, screaming and sobbing as he tore the curtains from the windows and threw what little of her he had left against the wall.

Every ornament, every picture frame.

He'd screamed at Lorcan when he'd tried to stop it.

He hadn't succeeded. Rowan had razed their home to the ground, shattering every happy memory they had created over the years in those four walls.

Only when he'd found Aelin's ring had he stopped, bursting into tears so loud that the first sob had startled Lorcan, holding the small object to his chest.

They had gone back to Lorcan’s, and Elide had stood there looking at him with wide eyes, before running to get the first aid kit to clean the wounds Rowan had caused himself. More or less deep cuts, which his friends said should have been stitched up by actual doctors, but Rowan doubted they wouldn't lock him up in the psychiatric ward if he went to the emergency room for the sixth time in such a short time.

Especially if he came in with shards of glass between his fingers.

He hadn't kept his promise to Lorcan.

He'd drank again. He'd gotten into a couple of fights. He hadn't been back to the rink.

He hadn't skated in a fortnight. Longest period of his life off the ice.

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do anything. And it was all his fault.

***

It was three months and one day after Aelin had left their home. He had called Lysandra every day since Lorcan had forced him out of his and Elide's house, finding him a place right outside their team's arena. The woman had never given him any real answers, only reassuring him that Aelin was fine and that he should start moving on, too.

That too had broken something inside of him. The implications that Aelin had found someone else.

He couldn’t even bare being in the same room as another woman knowing they’d all be looking at him trying to get in his pants.

Aelin had always been the only one who wanted him for who he truly was, not his money. Not his status.

She had wished all those things gone so many times.

And she had left him.

He had let her go.

The team had sent a physiotherapist to his house every day for the first month, and then every week, accompanied by a shrink. Rowan had managed to drain them all. One after the other.

He was sure Lorcan had lost all hope too, but he continued undaunted to help him, going to his house every day after practice, without ever missing one day.

Rowan knew that Aelin had called him one night, almost a month before. Lorcan had told him, how she had begged him to tell her that he was alright, even though it wasn't true. His friend had also told him that she'd seemed to be drunk, and when she had hung up and both he and Elide had tried to call her back, Aelin had blocked their numbers.

From what he knew, she'd only unblocked Elide's, but she hadn't given him any kind of information about Aelin and he knew she'd never say anything.

He had hurt her - Elide. Rowan knew he'd treated her like little more than trash, both her and Lorcan, but however much he'd hurt her, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

He should have felt something for his friends who had given him everything in the last period, but Rowan could not care less than what they had to go through for him.

Now he was waiting for Lorcan, sitting at the table, to show him he was alright. Putting on his daily show and reassuring his friend that everything was going great, he just wasn't ready to skate again yet. The other one would look at him, yell at him a few minutes before walking out of his miserably empty flat slamming the door.

Rowan was just waiting for the day when he wouldn't show up or when he would tell him he wasn't coming, saying goodbye one last time.

He knew it would happen, one way or another, and Rowan didn't know how to stop the mess that had become his life.

That day it wasn't Lorcan who entered his house, but someone else. Rowan opened the door and saw his agent, his team president, and his coaches, along with the athletic trainers.

They had given him an ultimatum.

Either you go back to slacking off after Christmas break or we break your contract, you're off the team and you lose lots of money.

The president had been particularly emphatic on the subject of money, but for Rowan that would be the least important thing.

It wasn't until the evening after New Year's Eve that he had made a decision.

Lysandra, whom he hadn't seen in person in more than two months, had entered his house looking like someone who hadn't slept in years. She had forced him out of bed, shouting at him to wash up, to clean his house. She had made it so Rowan couldn't talk back, never letting him speak, pushing him left and right.

She had taken him outside, something he hadn't done in weeks, so much so that the sun had hurt his eyes for the first two hours. She had forced him to buy new clothes and all the missing furniture in his house.

She had stayed with him for three days.

Three extremely long days in which she had swore at him, insulted him in every possible way imaginable by the human mind. They'd nearly come to blows when she'd touched a sore spot and Rowan had threatened to call Aedion to haul her away.

She'd dragged him to the party Fenrys had thrown for the New Year and for the first time in months, Rowan had smiled.

Elide had started crying when she'd seen him, Lorcan on the verge of tears as well. They had both hugged him and Rowan had begged for their forgiveness.

That night, Rowan thought things would be different for him for the first time.

He'd been wrong.

Again.

***

It was four years and twenty-seven days after Aelin had left their home. Four years since he had received no news of her. Three years since he stopped asking.

Rowan had been zapping through channels for so many hours now that the glaring light of the TV didn't even bother him anymore. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the screen, not really looking at the images in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a sentence here and there, ignoring the constant tinkle coming from his phone that warned him that Lorcan still didn't give up on talking to him every day from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. Even when he was on holiday with his now wife.

They had won yet another cup. The third win in a row.

Sometimes Rowan could hardly believe it.

Three Stanley Cups.

On his dream team.

He should have been excited. No, not excited.

He should have been the happiest man on earth. He should have been out celebrating with his teammates, vacationing on a tropical beach like Lorcan was doing, surrounding himself with girls ready to offer him anything to spend even just one night with him.

But Rowan didn't want to.

Rowan felt nothing – he had not felt anything in the last few years of his life. How did he expect to start now? For a measly win.

He hated hockey. He hated the sport. Hated the fans, his teammates.

He hated his life.

He was about to turn off the TV, confident that he would be able to sleep tonight without the help of the meds the team kept giving him to keep him from collapsing during the games, when his finger froze on the remote.

He didn't know what he was watching, but it seemed to be a channel about gossip, and Rowan felt a pang of anger well up in his chest. It seemed to be the only emotion he still felt from time to time.

Shocked and pissed that someone had felt the need to devote an entire channel to minding other people's business, he stood up, ready to pass out in his cold bed, when the words of the man on the screen stopped him in his tracks.

"And now to the latest news, straight from the social of the Toronto Maple Leafs' rookie player, Chaol Westfall, who has announced his marriage to the stunningly beautiful girlfriend, Aelin Galathynius. She has never been very active on social media, in fact, for somebody with such a charm, she'd be perfect in the role of influencer, but-"

Rowan stopped hearing.

He felt his body's reaction in time, and rushing to the kitchen, he managed to get everything his body was rejecting in the sink. He heaved in there till the last bit of what he’d eaten a few hours ago.

His heart was racing and he had to grip the counter to keep from kneeling on the floor.

That couldn’t be true.

Aelin was getting married.

Aelin was getting married to an hockey player.

The anger blinded him as her words flashed before his eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m weak. I’m so tired.

This isn’t the life I wanted for us.

I wish I could be your “’till death do us apart”, but I can’t.

The sound that came out of him was not human as he ran to his room and snatched the ring from the drawer next to his bed, the letter that just went wherever he went and raced out of the flat that never felt his own anyway.

***

It was four years and thirty days after Aelin had left their home.

Rowan stood in front of the journalists. Everyone was gaping at him, his teammates on the sidelines were looking his way as if he’d grown three heads.

And he couldn’t blame them, but he had needed to do this a long time ago.

He’d talked to his agents, the team’s president, everyone he had needed to to make this happen and he hadn’t felt such freedom in so long.

The questions just kept on coming and coming and he couldn’t distinguish the words. But he didn’t care.

He only needed to make this statement in front of everyone.

“I’m aware that leaving this team right now is a foolish and completely insane idea, but this world has taken too much from me already. My contract with the Senators ended with this season and I know everyone was expecting me to say which team I’m heading off to, but I’m quitting.

“I should have done this a long time ago and I’m sure the person this is for won’t even see this interview, but I love someone who thought she wasn’t enough for me. She told me four years ago her love wasn’t enough. I’m leaving cause hockey has not been a source of happiness in a very long time and it ruined everything good I ever had.

“I thought I loved playing cause of the adrenaline. The pride in a win. The chills when you score. But no, it wasn't that.”

I loved seeing her smile whenever I scored for her. The way she used to put medications on my wounds and bruises whenever I got hit too hard. Or the way we used to get all cuddled up after a long flight, after weeks of not seeing each other. I loved how my jerseys fit her – the way my clothes fit her.

He turned to his teammates, the people he owned a lot but couldn’t bring himself to care enough of to stay with them, “Being on this team would only make it worse. I’m sorry guys, I hope you can understand. This isn’t what I want right now.”

And right before he could get off the stage that had been set up for him, someone screamed from the crown.

“What are you going to do now?”

He didn’t stop to reply, avoiding everyone’s gazes and keeping on walking until he reached the exit of the arena. The chill air hit him hard as he went out on the street and got on the car.

This was the last time he’d be able to use one of the team’s cars.

The driver looked at him in the mirror, “Where to?”

“The airport, please.”

The man nodded and started the engine and Rowan felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

Now, I’m going to get her.

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[cinnamonest]

Lenaaaaa! Imagine an AU where Khaenriah didn't crash and burn and vanish throughout history! Imagine Prince Kaeya of Khaenriah, with his sultry smiles and perfect manners and how almost all ladies and some men of marriageable age have humongous crushes on him! Prince Kaeya who has this little wisp of a maid always trailing a respectful three steps behind him, who had been his nanny since the maid was a pre-teen and he was a child, and who he loves so dearly! Too dearly, some nobles think.

On the outside, it's reasonable: you had protected and raised him from his cradle, and you're his closest confidant, save maybe for the red-haired wine tycoon from the Anemo Archon's lands! It's quite reasonable for him to allow you a room beside his, especially with the recent assassinations against high-ranking nobles. Along with that, goes hand-in-hand, that you follow his steps all day! Of course, the fact that you were unmarried was a problem--but that's okay! The Prince, with all his affection, would surely help you find a perfect match!

On the inside, it's this: The Prince is sometimes inappropriate in moments. He used to be an adorable, precocious child, and you had raised him as best as you could, but sometimes, you don't know what he's thinking anymore. It's inappropriate to call him pet names as when he was a child, but when you're both left alone, he lays his head on your shoulder, lips on your neck, and murmurs to be called those long-forgotten names. His hand around your waist is something that sends chills down your spine and makes you want to step back. If you bring up his meetings with potential marriage candidates, he smiles something odd and orders you to stand beside him the entire time, which is both an insult to the opposing party and again, inappropriate.

You've been attacked far too many times by manic suitors, both with visions and without. Noble or commoners, or merchants. You get hurt, and you want to rest, but you can't shirk away duties. Kaeya only sends the best doctors and ointments to you, and they aid in hastening the healing process. As if, telling you that the only place where you ought to be was beside the Crown Prince of Khaenri'ah.

At one point, everyone starts avoiding you. It's lonely. And it's because of this that you find a suitable marriage partner. A Knight, you think? Who wards away two particularly insane noble daughters with electro and pyro vision, hiding you from them for hours and hours on end. Kaeya doesn't know you and that Knight had met. The next day, a ducal family and a viscounty is found guilty of deep, spine-chilling abuse of power and corruption and rebellion, among other things. Your hands turn cold when you see familiar faces of the Electro and Pyro vision ladies, as they're dragged up on the guillotine. You can't bring yourself to watch, and Kaeya finds you later, taking you into his arms and cooing as if you were the child. His smile is off, and for once, you're terrified of the boy you raised from childhood.

You plan on eloping with the Knight. Kaeya scares you. Kaeya doesn’t need to know. Kaeya needs to marry an affluent family heir and solidify his position for the throne. You've planned your escape. The back walls of the castle, a dog hole, and a glider. Your case of clothes already sent along to Sumeru. It's the dead of the night and--

Kaeya stands in your path, blue eyes gleaming with something unearthly. He's splattered with something red and viscous dripping from his sword.

He laughs, eerie, and intense. He smiles, stalking towards you leisurely like a cat. "Hello there, angel. Where do you think you're going?"

(The next day, the Prince's wet nurse had vanished. Their belongings have been stolen, their room ransacked. Their secret paramour escaped, suspected of taking advantage of the pure heart they possessed, and stole from the maid. No one dares to say what may have befallen the maid, lest Prince Kaeya once again throw a fit in his office. They whisper how pitiful the prince is, to lose one good friend to such an insidious crime.)

(In reality, The Prince is the dragon. He has kept his beloved darling in a tower, high up in the mountains, where one cannot flee from without physical prowess and a vision.)

--🎉 anon

Hhhh pseudo-maternal figure being lusted after by a man she still can't help but see as an immature kid and dismisses any affection bc of it sign me the FUCK up

Especially like if that's his complex. His logic is just "You still see me as a kid huh?? Well a kid doesn't commit homicide" so there we go