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sirdindjarin · 2 years

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Six Days, Part I - (Sierra Six x F!Reader)

Being stuck in a room with Sierra Six for a week causes more drama than you thought.

This was a 16 hour fever dream. It's probably going to be a two-parter, but this one ends satisfyingly anyway! I had to get this out of my head because ✨️Sierra Six deserves a lil kiss✨️ 😌

Beginning / Ending / Prequel

TAGS: Smut, One Bed, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Six x F!Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI 18+, sexual content, blood/wounds/death, poor knowledge of wound care.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

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The knife slashes diagonally across your upper thigh, cutting deep enough you see … yellow? That’s probably not good, your mind flashes. You stumble forward, holding the wound.

The man who had just given it to you tries to grab you again; he was careless where the knife in his right hand went, as long as you weren’t killed. His gloved hand snatches at your left arm, but his attempt ends abruptly. You feel his body fall to the floor with a thump. You hadn’t even heard the gunshot, but there in front of you appears a disheveled Six, his firearm still pointed down the hallway behind you.

His eyes drop to your hands clutched around your bloody leg, and he closes the distance between the two of you in a second.

“You’re okay. Can you run?” He sounds calm.

One hand reaches out to gingerly touch the side of your face; he tilts his head to peer into your eyes. It won’t cross your mind until later that he’s trying to keep you from panicking.

“I-” your voice breaks. “I think so, yeah.”

Six nods, thankful that your adrenaline has taken hold; even he'd be making noise with that kind of injury. That wound was certainly going to require several stitches.

“Hold on to me.”

He indicates his belt, wanting to keep you close behind him but needing to keep his arms free. You comply gladly, curling your fingers through a belt loop. Though still scared, your body responds automatically to the protectiveness emanating from the man who has watched over you for the last four months.

He sweeps through the house, following the escape route he’d had planned from the very day he got here. You try not to see but the specter of death is unavoidable. Black-clothed, anonymous bodies lay strewn across broken glass. Debris extends throughout the house, but mercifully the kitchen is corpse-free. Six guides you across the room, and he reaches out for the garage door. As it swings open, Six curses.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper to his back.

He hesitates, then states, “A friend did me a favor.”

He doesn’t move toward the broken body lying next to the vehicle - it’s clear by the angle of the man’s neck that he’s beyond help.

“We’re even,” Six solemnizes over the man.

He says it so quietly that you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear. You feel a prickle in your nose like you’re near tears. You don’t know if it’s the situation or the fact that you’ve never seen the reticent man show any strong emotion, but you scrutinize the back of his head, trying to understand what’s inside.

“I’m sorry, Six,” you breathe. You drop your hand from his belt to give him space.

Six doesn’t respond.

You can’t really tell the difference between the man lying there and the other bodyguards that had been rotated through over the past week. Six had hidden the fact that he knew the man well; you’d never seen them interact.

He steps over to the driver’s door cautiously. You wince as your adrenaline starts to fade and the distraction of Six’s body is gone. Ensuring no joy-riders are hiding in the backseat, he climbs in and starts the car. As the engine springs to life, he observes you standing still in the headlights and deadpans, “You stayin’ here?”

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

The two of you burst into the tiny apartment, not initially noticing the fact that it’s shockingly small: one chair, one bed, one bathroom. Without warning, he scoops you up into his arms and heads into the bathroom, flicking on the single bulb. He sets you gently on the countertop. He bends to grab a first-aid kit from the cabinet, and you wobble without his support, lightheaded from blood loss and exhaustion. His hands steady you and he stares into your eyes, willing you to be composed. You blink twice, realizing his face has never been this close to you - ever. You smile shyly, and he frowns. Clearly, he thinks you’re in shock. Your heart is racing but it has very little to do with the night’s events.

You’d been half-expecting an assault for some time now, and you’d prepared yourself as best a normal person could. Sure, you were scared - nothing would ever be the same now. But you had survived, thanks to Six, and the cold, animal part of your brain knew that was all that mattered. No, the thudding of your pulse was the fault of the ever-present magnetism you felt for the man working before you.

“I’m going to cut your jeans,” Six states.

You nod, mind racing with thoughts too silly to vocalize. He pulls a folding knife from his pocket and gingerly slices away the front half of the already-cut pant leg. You’re left with what resembles a pant-mullet and you giggle a little hysterically at the ridiculous thought.

He peeks up at you, now certain you’re in shock, “Lean against the mirror.”

You obey, your eyes lifting to the ceiling as you recline. Six rises from his hunched position, standing so close that you can still see his face out of the bottom of your vision.

“Tell me when you need a break.” His voice is gentle, but you notice his jaw clenching. His hands settle on your skin. “Deep breath.”

Then the pain blinds you. You’d been silently crying in the car, the constant burning feeling in your leg causing you to grind your teeth, fidget, do anything you could to distract yourself. But the bite of the needle through your torn, pained flesh as he stitches you back together is much worse.

You slam your palms down against the edge of the counter, gripping tight - your sheer willpower the only thing keeping you from thrashing against him. You take deep breaths as he instructed, trying to leave your body behind.

Your mind wanders to earlier in the night, before chaos reigned, when Six had actually agreed to play a video game with you. You’d let him pick the game, and he’d chosen a first-person shooter (because of course he did). You’d still beaten the trained assassin. He’d sat beside you on the couch, his body heating your right side, and when you won the match, you’d sworn the side of his mouth turned up a little at your gloating. You’d spent most of your time together trying to make the man laugh, so you’d take anything he gave you. When he beat you in the next round, you’d been a sore loser - accusing him of cheating. You had poked his side, gently, and he had actually laughed. Okay, you checked yourself, it was more like a snort, but it counted.

But then he had admitted to it, “Gotta use everything to your advantage. I could see your location on your side of the screen.”

You gasped, “You’re a screen-looker!”

“A what?” He scoffed. “There’s a name for it? And not even a creative one.”

“Yeah, for cheaters who screen-look.” You glared.

He’d rolled his eyes, then met your stare with his own, much more intense one. His face might be guarded, but his eyes expressed his feelings. He always tried to hide it, but everything was written there among the blue. Your heart had lurched, your breathing requiring thought. For God’s sake, he was so close. His eyes weakly flickered down to your parted lips; but then he had stood, walked a few paces away from the couch.

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

Rattled, you followed his lead. You knew he wanted you in your room; he always did his rounds once you turned in for the night. You had stood and stretched upwards, relieving your back. You never saw the guilty way his eyes followed the curves of your body as you moved, nor the way his jaw ticked as you bent to turn off the gaming console.

When you’d turned around, he had been perfectly composed. You had passed by him as close as you dared, close enough to hear the gum he was chewing, and muttered, “Goodnight, cheater.”

“Goodnight, loser.” He’d said, shrugging at you as you closed the bedroom door. You’d laughed at that, and as soon as your door had closed, he’d allowed himself to smirk.

He stuck the needle through a particularly sensitive section of your leg, and you were thrust back into your new reality. The safe house wasn’t safe anymore, and people had died because of you. Including Six’s friend. He’d probably request an entirely new team now; one that would replace him. He’d be free of the assignment he’d had for too long. You’d heard him say once that most assignments don't last longer than a week, and he’d been stuck babysitting you for months.

Your eyes close again, and a sob escapes.

He stops, “I'm just over halfway. You need a break?”

You shake your head, “Get it over with.”

The next stitches are as painful as the others. But then you feel his hands leave your skin, and you hear something fall in the trash can - bloody material, maybe. You hear Six wash his hands in the sink next to you, then dry them with a towel. Exhaustion tinges your every thought, now. It’d been nearly a full day since you’d slept.

Tears fall from your closed eyes, unbidden. Gently, but quickly, his fingers wipe away the liquid, and your eyelids flutter open at the contact. The ugly light causes you to squint, but you see Six lean toward you. His right arm slips under your legs, his left snakes around your back, and he lifts you from the counter. You softly cling to his neck. He’s careful not to jar your leg as he maneuvers out of the bathroom and across the room. The bed dips with your weight as he sets you down on top of the covers. Instead of moving you again, he lays a different blanket across your body. He leaves your wound uncovered.

“Don’t let that touch your leg. Need to keep it as clean as possible, and the last time these were washed, cell phones still had visible antennas.”

“Yes, sir.” You say sleepily. It’d been a long day, a longer night, and though your leg was still paining you, the temptation of the abyss was greater.

Six watches you fall asleep from the red wingback chair in the corner. He was grateful it was thickly padded - he wasn’t sure he could sit in a plastic chair with the bruises he had. There was no couch, and only one bed, but he wasn’t going to sleep anyway.

He wanted to believe that this safe house, two hours away from the previous, was off-the-books enough for his enemies to have overlooked it.

We’re fine here, he was nearly chanting to himself, willing it to be true. But he wasn’t going to relax, wasn’t going to get complacent. Not when he had a job to do.

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

Six’s entire body ached. He hadn’t moved from his chair except to use the bathroom. He was completely still, his arms folded across his body. He wanted to check the perimeter; he wanted to see what was going on outside. Maybe they were setting up for a raid out there. Maybe they were already on their way inside. Or maybe they had one or two agents doing recon, trying to get a confirmed sighting of him or of you. And if it was the latter, him exiting the building would be the opposite of helpful. But god, he hated sitting here feeling useless.

His eyes kept dancing over your sleeping form. You’d slept fitfully at first, but you seem peaceful now, despite it being nearly mid-afternoon. Six wouldn’t dream of waking you unless necessary. The chair creaks as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face.

How could he have found out? What didn’t I do?

He couldn’t carry the heaviness in his heart. His whole life had been about protecting others; his brother, buddies in prison, strangers, and now you. It’s all he knew, it’s all he wanted to do. Now, because of him, Denver was dead.

Six had asked him to help beef up security for a few days. There’d been word that something was likely to go down soon and Six had looked to one of the few men he truly trusted for help. He grimaced, mourning the dead man; he’d saved Denver’s ass three separate times, each one becoming a joke between them about life debts. Six wished he could’ve been there a fourth time, but he also knew he wouldn’t have altered a thing.

You hadn’t been asleep like he’d assumed so he had broken the pattern in their established rounds to find you. He’d felt nearly panicked searching the house, and when he recognized what he was feeling, he’d grunted, trying to shake it off like a broken toe or a stab wound. It had hurt nearly as badly. He’d shot two men and gotten into blows with a third before finally seeing you at the end of the hallway as you left the bathroom, and of course, he had shot the fourth: your friend, the knife-wielder. Six would never forget the way his body had sagged with relief at finding you.

No, even if he had known that he had a choice that night between you and Denver, he wouldn’t have hesitated in his answer.

And there’s the problem. He somehow knows my answer, too.

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

You sat up quickly, knowing you’d slept longer than normal as the golden light streamed through the small, frosted window. Hoping to neutralize the hunger pains, you threw off the blanket and swung your legs over the side of the bed, hissing at the new pain.

“Well, don’t undo all my hardwork.” Six’s favorite tone with you was exasperation; like a man whose patience was always at its limit, but never beyond.

“It’s fine, doctor,” you toss back sarcastically, “I just forgot about it.”

“You - forgot - about the gash in your leg?”

“...yes.”

He rolls his eyes, a hand passing over his face. You’re about to thank him for stitching you up, since he’s apparently sensitive about it, when your stomach growls.

“Is there anything to eat?”

“Yeah.”

You bite your lip and narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, I guess I will make us some food.”

He doesn’t move except to pick up a book from the shelf.

You hobble over to the kitchenette and see the world’s worst pantry. Canned peaches, olives, green beans, and chicken - the latter of which you gag over. There’s a mini-fridge on the counter next to the hot plate. You open that and see a carton of eggs. Wonder how old those are. The carton seemed new, so you open it and are pleasantly surprised by twelve fresh eggs.

A few minutes later, you’ve made two chopped olive omelettes. There are no plates, but there is a roll of paper towels. You walk slowly toward the chair Six has taken up residence in, an omelette on a makeshift paper plate in your hand. He sees the movement and looks up from the book. He stands and leans forward to take it from you, with a curt, “Thank you.”

“So, what do we do now?” You ask. Your mouth is half-full of egg and you’re nearly unintelligible.

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“For things to get quiet.”

“Mmm.” You nod, still chewing. “Okay, then what?”

He looks up from his own food, answering, “We move. Further away.”

“Okay. And by ‘we’, you mean you’re not leaving?” You keep the nervousness out of your voice.

“What-? Where would I be going?” Genuinely not anticipating your question, Six’s eyebrows knit together. He blinks, gears turning in his head.

It finally clicks for him and he frowns; you’re a little confused how your question could irritate him, but you can’t stop the satisfied grin blooming on your face. The soulful eyes, the little curl of hair resting on his forehead, Six is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever met, as well as a good friend, and the thought of leaving you apparently never even crossed his mind.

“And now you’re smiling?” He’s now totally bewildered.

Six is doing his damndest to put distance between the two of you emotionally, but you seem to be happy about …him staying with you? After assuming he’d leave you in this mess? He is speechless, his food forgotten momentarily.

“Nothing, really. Don’t worry about it. I just woke up, I’m still loopy.” You awkwardly smile again. You realize he’s not going to be satisfied with that, but you’re definitely not admitting your thoughts. So, you edit and try again.

“Okay, well, I figured since the original team is gone, a new one would be coming. Also,” you pause, knowing he’s against emotional oversharing, “I am very sorry about that. I know it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme, but I feel terrible. How do you get used to a life like this? People dying for you? My project wasn’t that incredible. There are more intelligent, more experimental chemists than me. There is no way my knowledge was worth that.”

You set your partially-eaten food down beside you, no longer hungry.

“You don’t get used to it.”

He answers your first question in the rawest voice you’ve heard from him. His eyes bore holes into the floor, desperately wanting to come clean, to relieve you of your guilt. They didn’t die for you, they died for him.

You try to catch his eye, to raise him from whatever mood suddenly snagged him, but he won’t look at you. He’s conflicted. Not only is he hiding the truth from you, but you still believe he’s capable of leaving you at the first bit of trouble, that he’ll give you up to another protection detail at his earliest opportunity. Six decides he cannot sit any longer. He rises, still avoiding your face, checks his gun, and walks to the door.

“I’m going to do a perimeter check; probably be gone ten minutes. I’ll knock in that pattern I showed you.” He pauses then adds, “If I don’t, there’s a trapdoor in the bathroom.”

“Alright,” you say quietly, your eyes on his back. Confused by his behavior and unable to let him leave in that manner, you can’t help but stage-whisper, “Please be safe, Six.”

You can’t see the way his throat constricts, the way he closes his eyes and lets your words soak in. Then he’s gone.

You mark the time with the analog clock on the bookshelf, and busy yourself by exploring the infinitesimal room. Your college dorm had been larger than this. The bathroom door is closed, and when you open it to find the trapdoor - just in case - the door hits the toilet bowl.

“Wow,” you wonder. “How did we both fit in here last night?”

You crouch to explore the grimy linoleum for the hidden seam, but you don’t see anything. Your eyes strain and your head bobs from side to side, trying to see something. But you find nothing. Maybe he’s confused this place with a different tiny, foreign safe house. Unwilling at the moment to actually feel around the gross floor, you’re content to just believe he’ll knock in the correct pattern.

You turn back into the main room, and pick up the book Six had been reading off the chair. A trashy bodice-ripper? How in the hell had he kept a straight face? You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. There’s no way he’d actually even read the title. He - for sure - had been trying and failing to seem preoccupied while you cooked. You’d get even with him for that.

You sprawl out on the bed, the book still in hand. You skip to a third of the way through, hoping to find the good parts, and sure enough: pure bodice-ripping. Again, you laugh out loud at the absurdity of the emotionally-repressed man you know reading this. Feeling this.

That sparks an idea in you; it had been a good long while since you’d been allowed to be completely alone. The waistband of your mangled jeans is loose enough to slip your hand down, and you engross yourself in a particularly dirty passage.

You're totally absorbed by the filthy story when the front door flies open and Six barrels through, shutting it as quietly as he could compared to his violent entrance. He flinches at your aborted scream, watches as your hand rips out of your jeans and you scoot up against the wall, trying to seem like you were not doing what you were definitely just doing.

The two of you stare at each other for a breath too long. Knowing he won’t - or can’t - you break the silence, “See anything?”

He short-circuits for a second, “No, you’re wearing jeans.” And then he realizes what you were actually asking about, “Oh, no. Nothing.”

His face is flushed and he can’t meet your eyes anymore. You’re under the impression you’ve mortified him, but he knows if he keeps looking at your excited, glowing face for a second longer, he’ll make a decision you could both regret.

“I’m really sorry. Why didn’t you knock?” You titter at the ridiculous situation. But you’re less embarrassed than you thought you’d be. It hits you suddenly that Six has always made you feel safe in a multitude of ways, and maybe... maybe you don’t mind being caught by him.

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. Hence the busted door.”

“Oh.” You peer up at him sheepishly.

He doesn’t make a reply, so you question, “Why were you pretending to read this?”

“Hm?” He settles his firearm back in its holster.

Six takes a long, calming breath, then meets your eyes. He’s as stoic as can be - except, now you're starting to wonder if it’s a front. You’d long felt like there was an electricity between the two of you. You’d seen Six’s eyes on you more than they should be, you’d feel his hand hover over your lower back sometimes when he walked you to your room, sending chills through you. He was reliable, protective, witty - he was also kind and selfless, though he let few people see it. But only in your daydreams could you believe he had any real feelings for you.

…so why did he just react that way? Wouldn’t a normal bodyguard apologize (right or wrong) and move on? They wouldn’t have to stand there and collect themselves, surely.

Or I’m just seeing what I want to, you chastise yourself.

“I know you were not actually reading this.” You tease, waving the book in the air.

“And how do you know that?” It’s clear he doesn’t even know what the book is about. He folds his arms across his chest and you attempt to discreetly ogle the vein on his bicep.

The smirk on your face warns him that you’re about to say something he’d rather not hear, “You wanna know how I know you weren’t reading this book of trashy erotica?” You heavily emphasize the words, and his eyes go wide. “Want me to read some aloud?”

He lunges toward you and snatches the book. “No. No, I do not.”

He absolutely cannot let you read porn aloud to him, he would lose all semblance of control. Six was already losing it, and that thought has him grumbling under his breath. Unthinkingly, he glances at the page you had open and he groans. This is what you were masturbating to? Fuck, shit. He shouldn’t have looked. His teeth grind together.

Oblivious, you bounce off the bed onto your good leg and say, “Since there’s no one out there, we need food for dinner. Is a store nearby?”

“I’ll go." He immediately takes the diversion. "Gotta find a new doorknob, anyway. You stay here, and listen for my knock.” He pins you with another exasperated look.

You huff, “Okay, jesus.”

You want to push him, ask him for the book back, ask him if you’re allowed to continue, but you can see he’s on edge. So you let it go.

He tosses the book unceremoniously on the highest shelf which you can’t reach. You glare at his backside, but he’s gone without turning around.

Six doesn’t get surprised. He doesn't let emotion get the better of him often, and in the past hour you’ve done it twice in two very different ways. He takes a deep breath, and swears again to build one more wall. He can’t let you continue being in danger because of him.

But, part of him knows there’s not much he can really do; leaving would only make you vulnerable and leave him lost. He couldn’t leave your fate up to strangers. No, he knew staying was still the best option. He just needed to stop entangling himself in you. Six’s best chance at protecting you long-term was to convince everyone else that you meant nothing to him. That meant getting through this current shitshow, and disengaging from you. You deserved a normal, boring life. A life where you wouldn’t be hunted, used as a pawn, just to hurt him.

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

Six didn’t speak to you again the entire night. He hadn’t been able to get much with the cash he’d had on hand, but dinner was satisfying enough. You’d handed him his portion on another paper towel, and he had nodded his thanks, but that was just about the only communication he gave you all night. He’d fixed the door and you’d teased him about being handy, but his only response had been to stick his palm out for one of the screws you'd been holding.

He then picked up a book, pointedly avoiding his earlier choice, and actually read all evening while you snuck glances at the way the light from the dusty reading lamp caught his fair hair, his tense face. He had pretended not to notice, but each time your head tilted toward him, he realized his feelings might not be quite so one-sided.

Sure, he knew you were attracted to him; after all, he was trained to notice the little things. The difference between your genuine smile and the polite ones you gave the other bodyguards; the way you unconsciously broke his personal space, brushing past him, poking him; and the way you tried to take care of him. He'd never had that, never had someone bring him glasses of water while he sat at his laptop, ask him how he felt about a certain song, what his favorite flavor of gum was.

But he was afraid it was more Stockholm Syndrome, or boredom, than genuine affection. You were a good person, and bringing someone a glass of water wasn't a Declaration of Intent. So, he had ignored the numerous times you turned to him - written them off as restlessness.

Now, the sheets scratch your face and you rub your eyes, sleep calling you once again. You roll over to face Six, still in his chair, to ask him to join you. Not for anything nefarious, but because you know he must be exhausted. The past thirty-six hours had been stressful, and your method of coping with humor had been at his expense.

Your eyes adjust with the dim lamplight and you see the book drooping from one limp hand, his eyes closed and head tilted to the side. Happy he was finally getting some rest, you shuffle off of the bed, take the book and mark his place before setting it on the shelf. You grab the plush blanket he had given you last night and drape it over his much-larger body. It didn’t fully cover him, but it’d do.

You gaze down at him, admiring his vulnerable form. Six meant more to you than you cared to tell him. No family, a workaholic with coworkers for friends, you’d let yourself grow fond of the reserved, self-sacrificing blonde man with the affinity for chewing gum. It was the closest you’d been to a person in over a year. No matter what he considered you - a client, a ward, a burden - you considered him a friend.

“Thanks for always being there, Six,” you whisper, knowing he wouldn’t hear. You softly kiss the top of his hair, then get back in bed. The abyss welcomes you back. You must’ve been dreaming when you heard what sounded like a defeated groan.

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

III

You wake the next morning to Six seated on the opposite corner of the bed, his gun in pieces. You prop yourself up on your left elbow and watch as he painstakingly cleans each part.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

He lowers the barrel in his hands, turning to you. You’re backlit by the small window on the far wall, and he curses inwardly. You look sleepy, domestic. Something pure and stable that he knows he’ll never have.

“Yeah, I can.”

He twists a little in place to fully face you, and you crawl a little closer to see the parts. He picks up a piece and hands it to you, extremely careful not to touch you.

“This,” he explains, “is the slide. It’s what chambers a new round and ejects the old casing.” He hands you a paper towel, again obviously avoiding your skin. “I like a softer cloth, but I don’t have anything blood-free. Gently rub the interior.” He instructs.

You do as he asks, working in silence. You hold it up to him for inspection, a smile, disproportionately proud of your simple task, beams on your face. He responds with a faint smile, and places the slide on another towel designated for finished parts.

“Can you show me how to-” You falter as he turns his heavy eyes back to you. “Like, if I needed to, how to use it?” You hesitantly ask, hoping you weren’t bothering him. You’re not a fan of firearms, they’ve always made you nervous. But if push came to shove, you’d prefer not to be using the gun as a club.

Six is not quite so nervous around guns, and he nods, agreeing that you should have every possible manner of defending yourself.

“Sure.”

You watch in silent admiration as he puts his weapon back together faster than you’d ever be able to, meeting his eye at the end and giving him a dramatic, impressed look. He smiles again, a shade more than earlier.

You slide over to sit beside him, your legs dangling off the bed. He spends the next few minutes helping you find your way around the gun. He still refuses to touch you, and it gets more noticeable with every second. He even sets the gun on the bed for you to pick up rather than hand it to you. You wilt a little at that, sure now that you’ve pushed him away even further than you thought. You can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach. He’s never been a touchy-feely, overly-friendly person; why did you make him so uncomfortable yesterday? You want to kick yourself.

You watch as he stifles a yawn.

“Didn’t you sleep?” You ask incredulously.

“I slept enough.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Six sneaks a quick, longing glance at you, replaying last night’s feeling of your lips on his hair. How he’d woken up at your touch. How could he have slept after that? He’d warred with himself about climbing up beside you, holding you close. But Six didn’t want to push this now. He knew there was a power imbalance here (although most of the time it felt to him like you were the one in control) and he didn’t want your feelings out of gratitude or survival. He’d compromised with himself by letting his mind free; he imagined your breathy sighs as you slept curled against him, how perfectly you’d fit alongside his body, the feeling of your hair between his fingers. He tears himself away.

“Please take a nap. You’re no good to either of us dead on your feet like this.”

“For a corpse, I think I look pretty good.”

“Six, for god’s sake, it’s daylight and it’s been silent for days. I promise I will wake you at any noise.” Your voice drips with earnesty, “I promise.”

He rubs his brow, knowing you’re right. “Yeah, okay.” His eyes are intent upon you, “You promise.”

You nod twice in quick succession and he makes a face like he’s accepting a plea bargain. He stands, then all but collapses onto the same side of the bed where you’ve been sleeping. You take up vigil in his chair, and it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.

After an hour, your legs begin to cramp, and you start pacing the tiny apartment. Still feeling a little guilty for yesterday, you wonder if there’s any gum nearby. Maybe a vending machine? You assess Sleeping Beauty: still breathing deeply. You tiptoe over to the door and unlock it. Six’s rhythm is unchanged by the sound of the deadbolt, so you slowly pull the door open. Peeking your head out, you see a featureless, white hallway; several other plain-looking doors leading to God-knows-where; and there, at the end and nearly out of sight due to the alcove it’s in, is a glowing vending machine. You pat your pocket and find two coins. Should be enough, you hope. You’re unfamiliar with the local currency, and honestly you’re not even totally sure which country you’re in. You prop the door open, just in case, and cautiously step out into the hallway.

Ears straining for any noise at all, you begin your trek. Keeping your feet as close to the baseboards as you can, you make as little sound as possible. Eventually you reach the vending machine, and you’re right - you have no idea which country this is as you don’t even recognize the language. But you can identify a pack of chewing gum anywhere. It’s only one of the coins, so you pop it in and get your reward. Uneventfully, you return to the room, quietly slipping the door closed, and deadbolting it shut.

Six sleeps for another few hours, while you spend time making lunch for when he wakes up, and reading some of the other, mostly boring, novels scattered around. One novel piques your interest with a convoluted plot which helps time pass. The book makes you feel uneasy, makes you start to wonder about your own situation. It really doesn’t make sense for Six to still be assigned to you over some biochemical project that never even made it to the testing stage. The fact that someone had actually attacked you made even less sense. None of your research was on your person, and it’s not like you had memorized every single formula. Maybe Six knew more than he’d told you.

Thinking about Six makes you grow lonely, wishing selfishly he would wake. You’re debating getting in bed and taking a nap with him, your only inhibitor being your promise, when he stirs. He shoots up like a dead man raised from the grave, his hand going to his side where his weapon usually rests.

“Everything’s fine,” you assure him.

“Mmph,” he grumbles. You’re trying not to stare at him, but he looks so uncharacteristically soft, you can’t help it. He pretends not to notice, thankfully. Six tosses the covers off, and picks his gun up from the nightstand. He walks to the door and listens. Satisfied, he turns around and sits back on the mattress.

“I can make lunch-” he starts to offer, but you cut him off.

“I already made you some,” you swiftly grab the sandwich from the mini-fridge and deliver it to him. After he takes it, you pull the gum from your pocket, extending it towards him, too.

His eyes jump from you to the gum and back again twice. “Where’d you squirrel that away?” He jokes, thinking you took it from your previous residence. Then he remembers the machine outside. His face tightens, “You didn’t leave the room, did you?”

“... don’t be mad at me,” you begin slowly, dropping your hand to your side.

“Dammit.” Six hisses. “Dammit, you promised.” He’s off the bed again, towering over you.

He shakes his head, disbelieving. He’s still in the hyper-alert mode he has been used to for twenty years. But his eyes keep catching on your pouting lips. He’s finding temptation difficult to ignore when all he can think about is how those lips would make him feel.

“I upheld my promise! There were no noises!” You know it’s not a real defense.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his mind on the problem. “Did you see anyone? Did anyone see you?”

“No to the first, and honestly, I can’t answer the second.”

His mouth opens to retort, but he closes it, thinking better of whatever he was going to say. He raises his hands in supplication and slowly states, “You can’t go out there alone.”

“I wanted to do something nice.” You explain. “But I am sorry. I was trying to ease some small amount of stress for you, not add to it.”

Six snorts and looks away. You'd put yourself in danger to make him happy. How was he supposed to react to that?

When he turns back to you a moment later, he reaches to take your wrist. Goosebumps appear down your arm, but he tries to ignore them. You loosen your grip on the small paper package, allowing him to take your peace offering. You don’t want him to let go of your wrist, and he doesn’t. His hand is hot, his thumb rubbing languidly across your skin.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “But shockingly, you take priority over gum.” His tone deepens and he orders again, “Do not go anywhere alone.”

He’s not trying to turn you on, but with his rough hand holding yours, his authoritative face inches from your own, and his protective demands, you feel the tension coiling.

“Mhm, noted,” you respond.

Your blood feels hot. Surely he can feel your pulse thrumming? You try to shake yourself out of the rising heat you feel. Take a cold shower, you thirsty bitch, you mentally jar yourself.

“You wanna relax? Make my job a little easier? It’s like you’re trying to kill me yourself.” Six accuses playfully, finally releasing your wrist, where - yes - he had been enjoying your quickening pulse.

His soulful eyes dance between yours. You feel flames licking up your body, your stomach tightening in anticipation. Am I killing him? The way he’s killing me? Your heart is hammering, body screaming for him to touch you again.

“Little dramatic,” you snort, surprised it comes out in a normal tone of voice. Turning away from him, you walk towards the bathroom.

And you’re not sure what possesses you, you’re half-sure he can’t stand you, but still you hear yourself say, “I’m going to shower. Am I allowed to do that alone, Six?”

His head snaps, his intense stare nearly stopping your breath. You watch him swallow hard and you wonder what he’s thinking. Your chin tilts upward, eyes locked with his, confirming every pass you’ve ever made at him.

And well, he tried, didn’t he? Six is a strong man. He’d been stabbed, shot, he’d fallen from great heights, been pepper-sprayed - and through everything, he’d kept on fighting. But this? The slow drip of you over the past few months had been bad enough, but stuck in this room with you nearly begging for him? He wasn’t strong enough for that.

“No. You’re not,” he growls.

He crosses the room in two strides, his arms enfolding you. He grunts as he lifts you up and backs you into the wall; at the same time his lips come hard against yours, months of repressed feeling apparent in his grip, his fevered kiss.

Your legs curl around his waist, tugging him closer, and your hands move down him - everything you can reach, you want to feel. Your hands press in his hair, his beard, they caress his throat before dropping to feel the beat of his heart through his wide chest. Your frenzied movements send him wild. He had no idea giving in would feel this good; he’s already forgotten about the shower.

You feel the wall disappear as he moves toward the bed. His knee bends on the soft surface as he lays you onto the blankets. You feel his weight pressing into you, grounding you to him. His left hand slides up your shirt, breaking his kiss to remove it fully. He tugs his own off by the collar, and the sight of his bare chest makes you gasp. Intensely defined muscles riddled with scars and tattoos decorate his body. He's lived a hard life. You’re breathing heavily, chest heaving, and he makes a lustful noise at the sight. He unclasps your bra, replacing it with his mouth.

“Oh,” you throw your head back at the feeling, and he makes another deep, rumbling sound at your approval.

His pants go next, leaving him in dark red briefs. He pauses and regards your pants, your wounded leg.

“Um, carefully, I guess?” You shrug.

He moves his hands appreciatively along your sides, stopping when he reaches your waistband. Six’s beard scratches your sensitive skin as he plants kisses lovingly around your thigh. He’s hoping you understand it’s his apology for not killing the man before he ever touched you. He unbuttons your frayed, fucked-up jeans and places a large hand over the cut on the outside of your leg to protect it while he pulls the material down, your underwear also going.

As he leans back over you, you can’t help but admire him, your eyes brimming with fondness at his care. His burning chest presses into yours, and you can feel his muscles flexing as his hands grope your body.

Your hands go to his hair once more, clutching him to you. His tongue skates over the hollow at the base of your throat - you inhale sharply at the sensation. His thigh shifts between your legs, and the pressure on your most sensitive area causes you to tilt your hips back and forth, riding him a little. Six notes your reaction greedily; he presses his thigh into you harshly and you whine. He places a large hand around the base of your throat, and continues his mouth’s path upward until he reaches your jaw, spurred on by the obscene moans you’re making.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush," his breath caresses your ear.

One of your hands cradles his chin while the other snakes along his body, pushing his briefs down - he kicks them off. The feeling of his thick, naked thighs against your own nearly distracts you from your goal. But you find him quickly - you knew he would be big there, too - and you relish the way his powerful body goes slack at your touch. In your peripheral, you can see his biceps shake at the tension building in him. Your thumb brushes over a vein, and you shiver as he lets go of the most wrecked groan you’ve ever heard him make.

You lean up to capture his lips and swallow the sound he just made. His hand plunges into your hair, cradling your head while the other palms your lower back; he grunts as he leans back onto his heels, easily taking you with him. His mouth connects with yours, and his hand slides to the curve of your ass.

Your thighs straddle him in this kneeling position, and you grind along his smooth erection. His hand on your ass encourages your rhythm. His other arm falls from your hair to wrap around your midsection, holding you tight to him. Six’s kisses are deep, desperate, but tender somehow. It makes you want him everywhere - you want to know nothing but him. You rock forward far enough that his tip catches at your center.

He stills your movement, keeping you in limbo. He leans his head back to see you. You can feel the strength in his muscles, so you don’t even attempt to fight him for the friction you’re craving. Artlessly pushing back the hair that had fallen in your face, he then rests his palm on your cheek, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip.

He shifts his body for a better angle, then slowly - so slowly - pushes up into you. Six’s eyes are almost entirely black, the smallest bit of blue rings his blown pupils as he drinks in your whimper. You didn’t think you could be more turned on, but the look in his eyes is so hungry. He sucks a line of kisses up your neck and the sensation of the warm trail cooling on your skin causes you to clench down on him; he grunts again at that.

You sigh in relief when his hip bones sit flush with yours. You’ve been so ready for this man, the considerable stretch doesn’t hurt in the slightest. You breathlessly laugh; utter bliss surging through you. You don’t try to move, knowing instinctively that he’s in charge.

“Mmm,” he hums gruffly, running a hand through your hair.

You feel him twitch inside you, and you want to ask him what he just thought about, but he pulls out and thrusts up into you without warning. You cry out, but he’s not done. He does it again, then again, snapping his hips brutally. You’re getting what you wanted, he’s driving up into you and it is overwhelming; Six is destroying you, piece by piece. His arms flex as they hold you still, his stomach muscles jump at the strain underneath your slack hands. Sweat begins to shine on both of you; the slick reward for his exertion somehow making you wetter elsewhere. A lock of dirty blonde comes free, swinging against his forehead; and you’re mesmerized by the masculine beauty of Sierra Six.

His pattern slows briefly to lay you both back down. His right hand finds its home in your hair, before he begins a deeper, more sensual pace. You gasp out his name at the new feeling, the intimacy. He’s weakened your body so thoroughly that he is absolutely fucking you senseless into the mattress despite his slower pace. You grasp at the bedsheets above your head; you can hear the bed creaking with the force of him. His lips press against your forehead, breathing heavy. One hand cradles the base of your skull while the other plants against the wall for leverage. He tilts his head to rest against yours, and it’s clear he’s all but making love to you at this point. The knot in your stomach gets more tenuous with each and every one of his touches.

You try to reign in your gasps, your cries, but his left hand falls between where you’re joined, and your attempt at being quiet ends entirely.

His lips brush your ear and he growls, “Should’ve known you’d be as loud in bed as you are every other fucking day.”

“You love it,” you choke out, smiling smugly.

His voice is heady, “It is that obvious?”

You’re in sensation overload, the feeling of Six pushing inside you, the rhythmic motion of his hand, and that look in his eyes has your body taut as a bowstring. Your hands reach up to frame his face, wanting to hold him, when you're surprised by the tension in your abdomen snapping viciously. You writhe up beneath him, fucking him back, never breaking eye contact. You feel yourself repeatedly clench down as you come apart for him, finally closing your eyes when you breathe out his name. Six possessively parts your lips with his, groans echoing in the space between kisses as he lets go, too. His hips begin to stutter; his abdominal muscles jerk as he buries himself deep within you, spending himself nearly as powerfully as you did.

His head drops to your collarbone and you press another kiss to his hair. Six raises up on his forearms, memorizing the way you look underneath him. His lips meet yours again softly before he carefully eases himself from you. He wraps a muscle-bound arm around you, tugging you to him. Six scoots both of you a few inches onto a pillow and throws the covers over you.

Diffused, indigo light from the window indicates that sunset has just occurred, and you can’t help but hope tomorrow doesn't come. Staying here in this comfortable, intimate twilight world was the only place you cared to exist. You feel Six’s chest press into your back then retreat, and his exhale tickles your ear. The tattoo on his left forearm lay across your naked breast, and you don’t stop yourself from tracing it.

“That feels wonderful,” his sigh is gravelly. You shift further into him and he responds by pulling you tighter, settling you flush against his body.

“I won’t stop, then,” you promise him quietly.

He sighs, and within a few moments, you feel his breathing deepen. You keep your promise until you drift away, too.

#sierra six #sierra six x reader #six #the gray man #the gray man fanfic #the gray man fic #court gentry #sierra six fanfic #ryan gosling #rg #personal #my fics #courtland gentry #smut #sierra six smut #lloyd hansen #chris Evans

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panjakes · 1 year

Note

Hi bubs can you write an imagine with Woo Dohwan or one of his characters that you like, please and thanks

That man!!! I’m just gonna write for him because I haven’t actually gotten far in any dramas he’s in to write for his characters😭but I hope you enjoy!

Sighing you look at Dohwan in annoyance

“No. Absolutely not” you say turning back around in your desk chair

“Come on Yn! This could work! For the both of you!” He says

“How come?” You ask never turning back around

“I Uh…it’s Uh! You won’t be bored this weekend” he says making you chuckle

“I have work, of course I won’t be bored” you say making him groan

“Your really not gonna watch her?” He asks

“No Dohwan! I’m not going to watch your cat! ” you say typing away at your computer

“Why not?!” He asks now standing next to your side

“Because she doesn’t even like me!! And what’s in it for me? And don’t say money because I have enough of that already” you say still not looking at him

“A-a date with me” he says causing your typing to stop. You slowly turn and look at him up and down to make sure he was serious.

You met Dohwan while he was filming for a drama. You were a fashion assistant and you both were on the same set. Accident bumping into each other, him apologizing profusely and offering to buy you a meal, you became friends.

That was over a year ago, you often helped him on his outfits or what to wear to important events. There sometimes were tension between the two of you because you both honestly have been feeling each but were just to nervous to cough it up.

Hence the situation you are in now.

“What?” You ask squinting your eyes

His face got hotter and a tad bit pink. He scratches his head before clearing his throat

“A-date. You watch my cat and I take you on a date” he says making you smirk

“You feeling me?” You ask making him roll his eyes

“Of course I’m feeling you” he says putting air quotes around feeling making you laugh

“So you like me?” You ask, smirk growing bigger

“Yes! Now are you going to watch my cat or what” he asks making you giggle

“Fine. I’ll watch the little devil.” You say causing him to scoff

“She is not the devil. You just be ready on Thursday at 7:00. And wear something pretty” he says making you nod

It got quiet. You smirk again noticing he had something else to say

“Cat got your tongue?“ you ask

“Yn stop! Your making me embarrassed” he says making you giggle

Little did he know you were just as nervous as he was.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry” you say holding a hand up

“C-can I get a hug” he asks making you giggle again

You stand up pulling his arms around you.

“You never have to ask to get a hug from me” you say in his ear making him smile and melt into your embrace.

You just didn’t know how you were his safe space.

“O-okay, I have to get back to my baby” he says pulling away

“She’s a cat!” You say

“My baby!” He shouts back making you giggle

It was now Thursday and you were sitting at your vanity doing your makeup. Once you were done you headed to your closet and slipped on your outfit. You quickly did your edges and claw clipped your hair.

Your phone goes off and you looked down seeing it was a message from Dohwan saying he was outside. You quickly grab your purse and keys and head out the door.

You get outside to see Dohwan standing outside his car with a bouquet. You smile as you walk over to him.

He opens his arms and you do the same. You pull away looking up at him.

“Flowers? Your old ass really is feeling me” you say causing him to scoff

“Not just any flowers, and I’m not even that old” he says as he hands the bouquet over to you. You pull the paper back and gasp

“Are these real?” You ask already taking a strawberry into your hands. He nods with a smile. You bite into the strawberry and moan at the sweet taste. You look back over at Dohwan with a smile

“Thank you Dohwan” you say

“No need to thank me, now get into the car” he says opening the door for you

“So demanding. Are all old men this demanding?” You ask smirking

“I JUST turned 30!” He says making you laugh some more

After a very full filling dinner, you and Dohwan walked around holding hands. You don’t know how or when it happened but decided against saying anything to not make it awkward.

“I’m telling you, my dad has the most terrible dad jokes. They don’t even make sense” he says making you laugh

“That’s the best part of dad jokes honestly” you say making his Shake his head

“I could disagree” he says making you laugh again

He leads you to a park bench and you both sit down. You sat in a nice comfortable silence still holding hands just basking into the nice scenery around you two.

The night time breeze blew past causing you to gasp and shiver a bit. Shit. You forgot to grab your jacket. Dohwan notices and takes off his jacket wrapping it around you

“Thanks but you’ll be cold too” you say

“Better me than you” he says causing you to smile

“Remember the first time we met?” He asks with a smile

“Yeah, you knocked me on my ass” you say causing his to groan

“And I apologized” he says

“You did, two thousand times! And bought me food” you say

“I felt bad. All your stuff went everywhere. Good thing neither of us had coffee” he says

“Oh would that be a cliche” You say causing you both to laugh

“I’m really glad I knocked you on your ass that day Yn” he says smirking

“Ya know, anybody else could have knocked me down and I would have beat their ass. Not you though, I’m glad you did too” you say smiling back at him

He looks down at your freshly glossed lips, then your brown doe eyes. Then your cute nose that was shining from the highlight you applied.

“Yn, can I…kiss you?” He asks making you smile

“Please do” you say causing him to smile before leaning in to capture your lips with his.

The kiss was sweet and soft. He gently put both of his hands on both sides of your cubby brown cheeks before pulling away shortly after. When he pulls away he looks at you with a smile

“What? Wanna kiss me again?” You ask jokingly

“I do, actually” he says leaning in to kiss you again.

#ambw fic #black reader #ambw #black girls are beautiful #black reader insert #kpop poc #kpop #x black reader #x black!reader #kpop imagines

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dotieeee · 1 year

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 18

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic non-con and dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

the filthiest smut I've ever written, I think

chasing

edging

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 18: A Confession...of Love?

Frantic screaming from the Voice renting space in your head jolts you awake, only to find your Dream Lord towering over you, his eyes landing on your arms which you held close. You watch cluelessly as his face loses whatever colour it has left, his soft, adoring look vanishing in the blink of an eye and replaced with a livid, fiery expression. You wonder what on earth for, but then you realise you had something cradled in your arms that by his law you had no right to even set eyes on.

With great force, yanks the offensive object right from your grasp with a force that almost pulls you with it, causing you to scream and scramble to your feet.

You observe, horrified, as he spares a repulsed look at the book in his shaking hands then meets your eyes with his own, black and filled with rage you’ve only seen in him when he caught you with the man whose dreams he’s plagued with nightmares.

“Why do you have this?”

His lips barely move, but the voice coming out of him echoes your bed-chambers, menacing enough for you to start backing away until the back of your legs hit the bed. You try to open your mouth, but no words come out, and frankly, you couldn’t find any.

“I am waiting, little dream.”

With nothing else to continue backing into, you’re now trapped between the four-poster bed and his body, standing at his full height, his palpable anger so strong it makes you flinch. At this stage, any explanation of yours would fall on deaf ears, but you had to try.

“My Lord, please -”

“Do I not love you enough for you to seek this mortal’s company?” he interrupts you, but this time, his voice isn’t strained by fury at your actions.

He sounds deeply hurt. Something you had not expected and had not meant to do. Frantic, you try to appease him as much as you can, so you place your hands on his charcoal coat, over his chest.

You start, your words coming out a mess, “My Lord, th-that wasn’t my meaning -”

“My sister has corrupted you,” he concludes in a whisper, as he traces your cheek with a finger.

“No, I came along with her on my own accord, she didn’t -”

But he grabs your chin harshly, his tone harsh and chastising, “Have I not ordered you to stay away from the dreams?”

“You were killing him, my Lord!” you exclaim as you let your own resentful tears stream down your cheeks. The hand on your chin moves to wipe them, but you swat it away, to his visible surprise. “How could you be so cruel, condemning him to a life of unhappiness, and for something he can’t even remember!”

“It is no more than he deserves,” he responds with a snarl. “That was my judgement of his transgressions against me.”

Swallowing thickly, you put on a brave face and confess: “I put it right. Before I said goodbye.”

Your Lord narrows his eyes at your revelation. “What did you do?” he asks with a clenched jaw.

“I undid Sumnio’s damage, my Lord,” you say, bracing yourself for the repercussions. “It was the right thing to do.”

No one could ever defy him and not face the consequences. Not even you.

“You still love this mortal.”

It wasn’t so much an accusation, as it was an observation, and it throws you off so much you just stare at him wide-eyed - it’s enough of a response to him. He bares his teeth as he grits them in his ire, grabbing the back of your neck in warning.

“Did you lay with him?” he asks seethingly, the pain in his voice evident once more.

“What? No!” How could he still be jealous of someone you already let go of, when he now has you locked in a relationship with him, very much pregnant and with nowhere else to go? “My Lord, I would never do that to you. I already bid him farewell. I will never see him again,” you say in an attempt to mollify him, but you tear up at the finality of your own words.

You’ll never see him again.

You choke back your tears, and whisper, “Please, you have to believe me.”

Despite your weepy confession, he remains as stony and immovable as ever.

He lets go of his hold on the back of your neck and caresses your cheek. He begins softly, venomously, staring at you with those dark, pitiless eyes, “You broke into my office, went against my command and undid my punishment. So tell me: what shall be yours?”

“Please, Lord Morpheus, forgive me just this once,” you beg, clinging again to his coat as your tears fall freely. After all, you came but an inch to losing your sanity the last time he punished you, and you might just not make it a second time. “I only ended everything with him so I could put him behind me, and focus on us. Please…”

You watch him pause as he searches your face with an almost pained expression. Finally, he says, his voice almost breaking, “And yet you went out of your way to ensure his happiness, all while refusing mine by denying me your love.”

You shake your head vehemently, while you watch him dip his hands into the insides of his coat, and, already anticipating the worst, you close your eyes, feeling fine grains of sand brushing against your skin. As soon as it dissipates, the smell of damp and musk invades your nostrils, and your eyes are greeted with a sight you thought you’d never see again:

Your prison cell in the form of the chambers in the tallest of towers in the abandoned castle.

Very much panicking, you kneel at your Lord’s feet and grovel. “No, no, you can’t leave me in here again, Lord Morpheus, please, I beg of you!”

Slowly, he gets to your level and cups your face, but he has no empathy in his eyes for your woeful pleas.

“You leave no choice, my dream,” he whispers as his thumbs stroke your tear-stained cheeks. “I am taking your dreaming abilities back. I cannot allow you to continue disobeying my word and endangering our child.”

“But I didn’t - !” you start, but he starts backing away from you and sand begins to engulf his form.

“This tower will be your home until our son is born.”

“No, no! Please don’t leave me!”

But your screams only echo in the now-empty room, and even the traces of sand that he left as you scream yourself hoarse vanish, refusing to lend you an ear.

Please come back.

Your Dream Lord doesn’t come back, so you spend the night in the abandoned castle alone, curled up in the corner of the room on the cold stone floor, not bothering to use the four-poster bed. The pain of losing Ollie for the second time is just as fresh as ever, and add to that being sentenced to carry out your pregnancy on this desolate island, far away from the heart of the Dreaming…

Could this have turned out differently had you done more careful planning?

However aware you are about how pointless it is to cry about it, you still do, until you couldn’t anymore, and you collapse on the floor wishing you could sleep and never wake up.

***

Dungeon.

You are roused with a start by the Voice’s prompt, recognizing the same word it uttered many times in the last time you were here. You rub the sleep and dry tears off your eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink further into the soft mattress. Immediately you sit up to find yourself tucked comfortably under the warm sheets of the four-poster bed you remember giving a wide berth to. Has your Dream Lord been here, and has he moved you to the bed himself? The theory alone is enough to wipe all traces of drowsiness in you, so you kick the blankets unceremoniously off you to sit on the edge of the bed and contemplate what in the name of the Fates you’re supposed to do now.

Dungeon.

Perhaps you could watch the sea from the balcony? That’s certainly better than moping inside the depressing room. Maybe you could go to the shores and watch the tides until dusk?

Dungeon!

Yelling out of frustration, you grab a pillow and throw it against the brick wall, where it bounces off without making a single sound.

“Could you for once leave me the fuck alone?!” you scream at no one in particular, and the only response you get is your own voice bouncing off the grey walls.

As if you had better things to do, comes the Voice’s snarky reply.

“Fine,” you grumble under your breath.

Not bothering to take a bath, you approach the closed door that leads to the spiral staircase of the tower. The old brass knob surprisingly turns easily, meaning your King had not bothered to keep you locked inside and away from the other areas of the desolate palace. You hadn’t run out of luck yet, it seems.

Tracing the path you and Lady Delirium wandered together is easy enough, seeing as your first meeting was quite memorable. Thankfully your way to the dungeon is unobstructed, and in no time you reach the clammy underground cell you had once sleepwalked to, its iron bars still ajar, just the way you left it.

“I’m here. What now?” you ask the Voice.

But, infuriatingly enough, it remains silent.

Pacing in the middle of the dark cell, you try casting your mind back to the words it had kept on muttering. What could be here that it wants you to find? Hidden treasure, perhaps? What you would do with it if you find it, or how the Voice in your head could have known its existence is a mystery to you, but whatever it was had to be buried underneath the stone floors.

You kneel on the floor and start lifting each stone. They’re bloody heavy, so it takes you a while to reveal the entire dungeon’s black earth and pile the stones neatly in a corner. Huffing heavily at the effort, you notice through the small, high window how the sun had quickly risen past noon, so you hastily run to the upper rooms of the castle to find a wooden plank you can dig with.

You spend a good few hours ploughing the soil for something that is yet to be revealed to you. Once you’ve dug up a spot to find nothing but crawling bugs, you move to another, hoping you’d unearth something, anything, that could be of value to that resident in your head, but it doesn't say a word, not a single sausage, and you end up empty-handed, with only nothing but dirt soiling your fingernails and your dress.

You decide to take a breather, sitting down on one of the stone bricks and throwing pebbles against the brick wall.

He’s here.

Your master had just arrived, presumably in the towers, wondering by now where you’d gone. Obviously, he could not in any circumstance find you in the dungeon, for the questions he’d raise would certainly be something you wouldn’t want to answer.

So, you run, intending to lead him as far away from the underground cells as you possibly can. You barely reach the ballroom when you hear a deep, velvety, disembodied voice.

“Where are you, my dream?”

It’s your Dream Lord’s, and it’s coming from the walls of the palace itself, reverberating in the empty, decaying halls, and it’s impatient.

Unsatisfied with your distance from the cells, you sprint to the opposite wing, reaching a wide, once-grand staircase and ascending its worn steps, tripping twice as you do. You’re panicking just a little by now, and it doesn’t help that you’re almost out of breath and your heart is pounding in your ears.

“There is no point in running, little dream. I will find you,” the disembodied voice declares.

Still, you continue giving chase. The second floor, with its confusing labyrinth of hallways, is hard to navigate, and you don’t know if your eyes are just playing cruel tricks on you, but at every turn, you seem to glimpse out of the corner of your eye a black shadow at the end, still and waiting, only to find it gone the moment you focus on it.

He’s toying with you, whispers the Voice.

And for the first time in a long time, you find yourself agreeing with it.

The fourth floor of the palace is no different, except most of its empty hallways are unpassable, its ceilings already caved in and exposing it to the elements. Once you find an empty passageway, you scurry along, navigating through its fallen debris, until you reach the end, where a closed door lies waiting. With no room for hesitation, you push it open.

You enter what was once a grand room, except its entire ceiling and its walls have all but collapsed, revealing a scenery not unlike what your balcony at the tower offered. The afternoon sun exposes the ramshackled contents of what was once a room worthy of a noble, and when you reach the edge where a window once stood, you see nothing but the ocean waves crashing against the rocky cliffs below.

You have nowhere else to run, it seems.

Behind you, you feel your Lord’s ominous presence manifest, and goosebumps spring all over your bare arms as his warm breath fans your ear as he whispers against it:

“I found you.”

He twists your body so you could face him, and all you see is a glimpse of his smug grin and fiery eyes before his lips capture yours hungrily, while his arms wrap around your form to prevent you from breaking away. You’re forced to concentrate on kissing him back and moving your tongue along with his that you barely notice the tiny grains of sand brushing all over your skin - only until your back hits something soft does it dawn on you that he has taken you back to the tower, and laid you on the bed in your dirt-soiled clothes, shoes and all.

You whine into your kiss and pull your head away, breathless and panic-stricken, breaking into sobs, as memories of him taking you night after night mercilessly against your will on the same bed flood your thoughts. You beg, as you have done on those nights, for him to stop, but he ignores your pleas just as he has done many times before. You writhe underneath him in your terrified state, but in response to your defiant actions, he growls in disapproval and grips your jaw to make you face him.

“I must admit: your little chase gave me quite the thrill, dream of mine,” he says under his breath. “But, disobey me again and I shall ensure you will never see our son after he is born.”

Undeterred by his threat, you feebly push against him with your palms, you beseech him, “Please, Lord Morpheus, I don’t want to do this anymore, please…”

He just tuts in response and takes both your wrists and places them above your head. You feel sand wrap around them snugly and they get pulled gently to the posts - you try to yank them back, but to your horror, the sand around your wrists tightens its hold and wouldn’t budge.

He’s cuffed you to the bed using his sand.

The realisation sends you into a state of hysterics, but your Dream Lord just nuzzles your neck, shushing you and gently nipping from your jaw down to your throat.

“No, nonono, please…” you continue to sob while his hands freely roam your body, his hands grazing over your clothed breasts. In the blink of an eye, your soiled dress disappears, and so do his clothes. Helpless, you could only squirm as his mouth ravages your right breast and squeezes the other, pinching your nipple as he does. You whimper in pain at the action, and he actually pulls away, but before you can sigh in relief, he parts your legs and settles between them.

And you couldn’t thrash, because he grips you firmly at the waist as he slips his hard cock inside you. Groaning above you, he hooks his arms under your knees, sliding in and out of you at an angle that makes you bite your lip to stifle your increasingly louder moans. He picks up his pace, then brings your foreheads together, whispering heatedly over your lips:

“Can your mortal make you feel like this, my Mera?”

A particular thrust causes you to cry out, rendering you unable to respond and powerless underneath him. He continues goading you on:

“Can he pleasure you like I do, Dream of mine? Can he love you, worship you, as I do?”

“Please stop, please stop…”

But instead of heeding your piteous sobs, he grabs hold of your hips and starts slamming hard into you, earning screams from you, and desperately you try tugging on the sand binding you to the bed, but like his thrusts, its hold on you is relentless.

“Will you renounce your pathetic mortal and pledge to me your eternal love?”

But, how could he demand that from you, when he’s already taken from you everything that actually mattered to you?

“Answer me, little dream.”

And so you do: with a vigorous shaking of your head. No matter what he does to you, what he will do to you, you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

“Is that so, then? Have it your way.”

His thrusts start becoming more unsteady, his release burgeoning, as is your own -

And then he pulls out of you, much to your dismay, and you watch him with disappointed tears in your eyes as he spills his seed on your belly with a groan of pleasure. He had done it countless times in the confines of your chambers, but this time, it was meant to punish and humiliate you.

He looks down on you, sprawled underneath him and tied to the bed, with a merciless look on his face, his eyes silver, and you could have sworn you could see hurt behind them - not that you cared, he’s hurt you so much more than you did him - so, you gaze up at him with the most belligerent look you could muster.

“You shall have your release when I get the answer I seek.”

Your Dream Lord pulls away from you and gets out of bed. You couldn’t sit up much, but you crane your head as much as you could, only to see him clothed, and with nothing but a lazy flick of his finger, a blanket wraps your naked form.

“You’re leaving me like this?” you ask, even if you already knew the answer.

“At least, untie me, you fucking -”

A scream of frustration and embarrassment tears through your throat, and your outburst ends up again in hysterical weeping. He approaches your side and had the gall to cup your cheek as if it would bring you any comfort.

“I will come back for you. Until then, I leave you to consider your response.”

You look up at him in disbelief, but he’s gone in a swirl of sand, leaving you wanting, alone, and every bit disgusted at the state with which he left you.

***

You wake up to the sound of loud, squelching, firm hands gripping your thighs apart and a hot tongue flicking and sucking on your clit.

Your immediate response is a moan of pleasure, but it’s gone as soon as you hear a dark chuckle from the Endless grinning smugly from between your legs. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he continues lapping the wetness you offer, alternating between flicking your clit with that devious tongue of his and marking the insides of your thighs with little love bites that drive you to the brink of madness. With your hands still being held down by his sand, you couldn’t really hold his hair to keep him in place, so eventually, as you predict, he pulls away again, denying you of the climax you’re starting you get desperate for.

Whimpering, you could only observe as his tongue runs over his lips, coated in your juices. He sheds his clothes before you without so much as a blink. He makes his way closer to you until he’s straddling you at the waist.

“Sit up,” he commands simply.

You can feel the sand around your wrist loosen just a tad bit so you could follow his order, and yet it doesn’t fully release you, so you’re still trapped, bound to the bed, with an insatiable king intending for you to take him in your mouth.

“Eyes on me, little one.”

His hand slowly caresses your cheek before snaking to the back of your head, and like you’ve done for him so many times, you open your mouth as he pushes his cock inside your mouth with a groan of pleasure.

With his hand gripping your head and hair, he controls the pace of his thrusts into your mouth, and you could do nothing but take him in, eventually tearing up as his tip reaches the back of your throat. He knows you couldn’t take his entire length, so you’re grateful that he doesn’t shove it fully inside. Still, you fight the urge not to choke on his cock, and your eyes continually water at the effort.

As if sensing your struggle, he coos, “You’re very good, taking me so well, little dream. You take your King so well.”

“You look so pretty with your little mouth wrapped around me.”

He increases his pace and his force, earning whimpers from you, and just as you could feel him thickening in your mouth, he pulls his cock out of your puckered mouth, and, using his hand, he rubs his length and pours his seed on your breasts, some of it spraying your lips and neck.

Once he’s done, he issues another command:

“Lie down for me.”

As if he couldn’t wait, he pushes you gently down on the shoulder, while you still weep quietly, knowing what to come next. He settles between your thighs and positions his once-more hardened length over your entrance. He hovers over you, but he doesn’t make a move, and with your insides begging, aching, for any sort of relief, you try to buck your hips, but his hands clamp down on them to still any movement.

“Now, what shall be your answer?”

Letting out a breathy cry, you plead, “No, please, I can’t…Lord Morpheus, please…”

“Your answer, my dream. Your King awaits.”

His eyes are still locked into yours, expectant and almost impatient, and having been denied release so many times now, you finally snap.

“I will,” you whisper between your sobs.

Unsatisfied with your vague response, he coaxes, “You ‘will’ what, my dream?”

“I take it all back…I don’t love him anymore. I will only love you, Lord Morpheus, until the end of all time,” you declare softly, while your heart wilts inside, your stomach turning absolute revulsion at the words that just came out of your mouth.

You could only look on as his eyes close, as if in pure bliss, seemingly relishing the confession he forced out of you. Slowly, his eyes open, revealing striking blue, gleaming in the soft light of the chambers with the galaxies it contains, and they’re soft, so tender, and for a moment, you almost believe he holds all the affection in the universe for you.

Almost.

“Again,” comes his short command. “Say it again.”

“I will love only you, Morpheus.”

He lets you glimpse a flash of the softest, most subtle smile you’ve seen on him in a long time, before he closes the distance between you both and plants a tender, lingering kiss on your lips, and proclaims, allowing all of his dreamers in the universe, dreaming their little dreams, to hear, “I love you, Mera, and I will destroy entire worlds if it keeps you by my side.”

Dream of the Endless kisses you, deeper this time, more passionate, and you let him sweep you with it, just as he enters you gradually. You moan in his mouth, which spurs him on, and just as he buries himself in you at the hilt, he pulls out almost agonisingly slow, as if relishing how needy you are for him, before settling back inside, choosing a gentle pace. In no time, you’re a sobbing, moaning mess underneath him, and while his thrusts continue to bring you to the edge, the lips sucking and biting on your neck, your throat, your shoulders, and your breasts keep you anchored. He wraps his arms around you as he makes love to you with an all-consuming devotion, and as his lips nip at your earlobe, he whispers a confession only meant for you to hear:

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Until you couldn’t hold it in anymore, and every part of your body just explodes in pleasure. Crying out your climax with nothing else to hold, you wrap your arms around him, only vaguely noting that he’s already released you. A groan rumbles through your Lord’s body, and as you tremble beneath him in the aftermath of your orgasm, he too, finds his release, and he captures your lips in his as his warmth fills your core. Finally, he thrusts the last of his seed inside you before letting his form collapse on top of you. He doesn’t pull out just yet, he just holds you in his arms tighter, as if afraid you’d vanish. You stay, wrapped in his hold, limp and drained, trying to catch your breath.

“Lord Morpheus, you’re crushing me,” you let out in a strained voice.

He pulls away just a little bit, propped on his elbows, his eyes boring into yours and twinkling with mild amusement. “Apologies, my love,” he says as his forefinger traces your cheek softly. “I never want to let you go.”

Even with the most tender look in his eyes, his gaze still feels intense, you look away, feeling bare and vulnerable, while he goes on to rub circles on your collarbone like a real lover would after a night of boundless passion.

After what seems like an eternity, he gets out of bed and picks you up like a bride. Wordlessly, he carries you to the bathroom and lowers you with care down the bathtub which he instantly fills with warm, comforting water. He gets in position behind you, holding you close to his chest, and over your ear, he whispers:

“I love you.”

The hand wrapped around your form squeezes your arm ever-so-slightly - he’s waiting for a response, and from now on, you’d have to give him one, and it should be just the one he likes to hear:

“I love you too.”

And you wonder inwardly if it’s possible to just hate the one who breathed life into you with every cell in your body he’s crafted.

***

The wooden plank in your grasp breaks at the intensity with which you plunge it into the black earth. You huff in exasperation as you get to your feet and find another object you could dig with. You settle for a knight’s helmet you find in the ballroom, grinning just a little as Ethan the Knight crosses your memory. Trudging back to the dungeon, you get back to digging for whatever the hell it is the Voice is telling you to look for.

It’s the day after your rather forced confession of love for your Dream Lord, after all, so you’re really not in the best mood for earth-digging.

You’ve dug just about every inch of the earth twice, wondering vaguely how you’d place it all back now that you’ve gone almost knee-deep enough on some patches. Grumbling under your breath, you begin digging on a patch you swore you’d dug into for the third time. You search for it for about half an hour (you’ve lost count at some point), but the helmet hits a sizeable pebble, and it bends out of shape, rendering it unusable.

Impulsively, you throw it against the stone bricks with an irritated groan, and it hits a brick with a loud thunk. You glare at the spot it hits before springing up to get yourself another helmet, maybe a shield or a spear this time, but then you do a double take:

The brick the helmet hit was now dislodged slightly, and that’s when it hits you.

With your vigour renewed, you start tapping the bricks with the broken helmet, trying to hit a stone brick you could knock out of place. It takes you a while, but you get to a brick located at the very bottom of the wall, so you crawl, on all fours, to get the stupid thing out and finally put an end to the farce the Voice made you undertake.

After struggling with the heavy brick, you find a tiny crevice, and since it’s too dark for you to make out its insides, you tentatively let your hand feel for its contents.

“There better not be a fucking spider in here,” you mutter.

Thankfully, your hand doesn’t feel a single eight-legged creature - instead, your hands discover paper, of all things, lots of them. Making sure you’ve taken them all out, you fumble the space for a final time, before plopping down on the dirt to inspect your so-called treasure.

The papers seem to have seen better days, judging by the browning on the edges. They’re filled from the front page to back with familiar, barely-legible handwriting, and on one, you even spot a lovely little watercolour painting of a map of sorts.

It dawns on you in a flash why the handwriting seemed familiar:

It was yours, after all, down to the same way you dot your ‘i’s’ and loop your ‘g’s and ‘y’s.

But I don't remember writing this, you think to yourself.

Read, comes the Voice’s urgent demand.

Once you find where the papers begin and where they end, you dig right into the material, and you don’t put it down until you’ve read, and digested every single word.

What you read makes your blood boil with indescribable hatred for Dream of the Endless, before clutching your heart and doubling in pain at the gravity of the confession etched in ink - with the papers on hand, you tremble visibly with the burning desire for revenge.

***

Elsewhere in the Dreaming, the Abyss stirs awake with a low hum, its rumbling echoing the cave it has occupied for almost three hundred years. It’s hungry, always has been, as is the function bestowed upon it by its creator. Had it not been so unceremoniously abandoned, it could have its fill of the void the mortals seem to always possess in their hearts, and it could’ve continued consuming its fill, for humanity is rife with it - all the pain, the horror and the depravity - the emptiness they bring to the souls make for a delectable morsel which it had not had the pleasure of tasting in a long time. Being granted a place in the Realm of the King of Dreams had its downside.

Not that it has never fed in its time in the Dreaming. It had, after all, rare visitors: dreamers who unwittingly end up in its cave, only to be tempted by the bliss of nonexistence, and their souls either picked up by Death or be offered a place in the realm, as is customary for those who meet their demise in their sleep.

Ah, but this one, if it happens to cross its path, may prove to be an adequate meal, and it almost makes its cave shake in anticipation.

It won’t be long now until it dines - and what a lovely feast it would make.

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

NGL this fic is just a massive excuse for smut at this point lol it’s really just PWEP: porn with elaborate plot

Also, apologies for any typos, I will come back to this to edit tomorrow :'D

AGHKKK final THREE CHAPTERS!!!

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 2/21/23

Edit date: 2/21/23

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

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im-poe-dameron · 9 months

Text

NEVER BREAK THE CHAIN

➢ 02. LOST TIME AND BROKEN MINDS

a/n: i debated on splitting this into two parts when i first started plotting, because of how long it is. but i figured why not just drop all of it at once. chapter one was more of a small prequel to get us here and into the drama within this story. plus we finally get to meet dino din, and when i say he is making me swoon. he is making me swoon. i hope y'all enjoy!

summary: you arrived on the island under the impression that you would take a tour and nothing else. however seeing him again changed things entirely.

word count: 8.2k+ (how???)

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, story building, heartbreak, arguing, pining, alcohol consumption, flirting, p in v sex, cumplay, cumeating, oral (f receiving), din lifts reader slightly, a minor bit of dirty talk, harsh endings.

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You always knew humanity would destroy the world. It was written in their fate the second they evolved intelligently and began making mistakes. Choices that would inevitably shift the tides of nature itself—sending the world spiraling. You just never thought you’d be there to see it up close.

Stepping onto the tarmac where you were told to meet the man you spoke to two days ago. You felt the rock in your stomach grow with each step. The fear of making the wrong choice continued to eat away at you—reminding you of the thing you were leaving behind. You wanted to take the leap, you really did, but what lay on the other side didn’t keep you from feeling terrified. It didn’t stop the doubts from slipping in. Telling you that this—whatever it was—wouldn’t go well for you.

“I can’t tell you how happy my boss is that you joined,” he called over the noise of the helicopter blades.

Wind nearly pushed your hat off your head. “You still haven’t told me what it is I’m doing here.”

The smile slipped off his face, his hand smoothing down his tie. Even in tropical weather that made you start sweating the moment you got off the plane, he still wore a suit. You wondered if you’d be liable if he died of heat stroke in your presence. Given that you had yet to sign any contracts, you weren’t sure you’d wind up losing the job offer over something like that. Still you wanted to be sure.

“Everything will be explained today,” he replied, leading you towards the small jeep with the G.I. logo painted on the side. “I’m set to give you a tour of the facility.”

“How large is it exactly?”

“It spans the entire island.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, eyes going wide. “G.I. owns the island? What for?”

He nodded, checking his watch. “With what we’re working on it’s better to have…space. A lot of it.”

Alarm bells began to ring in your head, loud enough to cause that fitful anxiety you hated to fill your body. Ten minutes here and you were ready to give up and go home. What kind of work forced them to have the entire span of an island in their possession? You half expected him to say he was joking—that they only owned a few acres—but the laughter never came. Which only made you feel worse.

“Don’t tell me you’re bringing back the Wooly Mammoth,” you joked, a fake smile stretching across your lips in the hopes of lightening the mood.

He laughed, turning the jeep along the dirt trail ahead. “No. Not the Wooly Mammoth.”

“Good.”

You squinted up at the sky, believing for an instant that you saw something large flying above, the wingspan far larger than anything existing on Earth. But you shook it off as your brain playing tricks on you. After all, it was hot outside and you were most likely dehydrated.

“We’ll be heading to the labs first. I’m sure you’ll want to get acquainted with everyone there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping sweat off your forehead. “I haven’t been told who I’ll be working with. Who’s my boss?”

“Oh no I wouldn’t worry about that. No boss.”

“No…boss? What does that mean?” you asked incredulously.

He turned right and you saw it in the distance. Fences high enough to look like a prison and wires across the top that you guessed were live with electricity. But behind all of that, hidden in the thicket of palm trees and large plants was a glass building. It reflected the sun, nearly blinding you the longer you stared, but you couldn’t look away.

None of this felt real and you couldn’t figure out why. Were you really here? On an island in the middle of nowhere, ready to work for a company who refused to tell you why you were here. How had you gone from a professor to this? All in the span of a week. You wanted to speak to Din. To see that he was actually here in this mess with you. Except you couldn’t get your mouth to open.

The car rolled to a stop as he searched for his identification card. “Impressive isn’t it?”

“Very,” you breathed, gaping at the sheer monstrosity of what they were doing here.

“It’s taken nearly seven years to get this all up and running and it hasn’t been without its problems.” The car jolted forward, nearly slamming you against the dashboard, as he sped through the gates.

You wanted to ask if you could drive instead, but he was already heading towards two large doors. Big enough to fit this car. You figured it was either the entrance, or a separate garage for the car to go. Sure enough, the doors opened and you were led down a ramp, into a separate garage where lines of matching cars sat. All of them, the same muted gray color. All harboring the G.I. logo.

“What sort of problems?” you inquired, desperate to know even a little more about what you were getting yourself involved with. What sort of fucking job didn’t even offer the baseline principles of what you were doing?

He swung into a nearby spot. Killing the engine and hopping out. “Casualties mainly.”

Your eyes widened slightly, hands moving to open the door and follow him. “From building the fences?”

“That was part of it.”

“And the other part?”

He chose not to respond, pressing a code into the keypad next to the elevator doors. Which left your mind to wander. The gates were ridiculously high. Large enough to seem like a facility housing something dangerous—possibly something that could escape. Except you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that was. Not without further information about the genetic process you’d currently be working on.

Your mind ran a mile a minute, trying to put together every manner of potential situations. Yet you continued to come up blank. What the fuck had Din gotten you involved in? What were you about to agree to?

Rather than continue the conversation, the man—whose name you had yet to receive—walked into the elevator, his eyes focusing on the screen of his phone. One quick glance let you know he was reading a calendar set up. Possibly to let him know how long this tour was going to last. You could already tell him that you weren’t interested in seeing the labs or meeting the CEO. You just wanted to see the one person who could explain everything to you.

The person who continued to remain in the back of your mind—steering you in what you hoped to be the correct decision.

“The labs are on the eighth floor,” he said, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“When you said earlier about there being no boss…”

“Oh yes,” he nodded. “I meant you won’t be working beneath anyone. We’ve recruited some of the best geneticists in the country and always meant to bring you on board from the very beginning.”

“So…why didn’t you?”

He shrugged as a ding echoed around you—the doors sliding open. “You rejected our offers until now.”

“Does that mean I’m working on my own?”

You followed him out, freezing at the sight before you. The area was pristine. Glass windows let you see the green terrain outside, sunlight filtering through the work spaces like it would through water. You felt your heart race at the sight of millions of dollars worth of equipment sitting perfectly placed around the laboratory. Things you could only dream of seeing in real life, yet never coming close to it.

“No,” he said, giving you a moment to take it all in. “You’ll be running our department.”

“What?” Your voice had risen in pitch, shock coursing through you and rendering you speechless. “W-Why me?”

He merely smiled, moving over to a glass door that held an empty office, your name already printed neatly on the plaque with the title DIRECTOR beneath it. You felt as if you’d been dropped in the center of your dream. Running a lab had always been your end goal—something to look forward to after your time at the university—but you never expected it to happen so soon. You predicted that you’d be old and gray by the time you achieved such an opportunity.

“Our last director sadly had to leave us due to…differences within the workplace. And as I said before when I recruited you. You’re the best there is.”

That was hardly true. Sure you’d finished your PHD with a focus on the theory of genetic splicing within animals in your twenties. But you never once believed you were the best there is. Lots of people worked within your same sector and they were far more knowledgeable on the topic than you were. Yet there you were, standing in the middle of a lab offering you everything you could have hoped for. You wondered how much of that was due to Din’s statement, his words stating that you were in fact the only one for this job.

Something still didn’t sit right with you, even as you regarded the beauty of the place around you. It ate away at you, told you that this wasn’t the right choice for you. One question still remained unanswered.

If you were hired to work with genetics and nothing else, then what the fuck did they need Din for? He was a military man with a background in paleontology that he more often than not referred to as useless. Well the last time you saw him that is. You weren’t even sure he finished his masters before he took off to do who knows what.

“The lab is where you’ll be doing most of the work.” You were brought back by the man’s voice—still insistent on giving you the tour despite the worried expression on your face.

“Right.”

“I don’t know the—er—exact science going on, but you have an assistant who will be continuing this tour tomorrow once we’re done—”

“I want to speak with Din Djarin,” you butted in, too focused on the doubt swirling in your gut to listen to him go on and on about the aspects of this company.

He froze, his mouth closing as he glanced down at his watch. “Um…Mr. Djarin isn’t a part of this tour. I could make arrangements for you to go down where he works tomorrow?”

“He’s the one who recommended me, yes?” He nodded, rather reluctantly. “Then I’m afraid if you want me to sign any contracts today, I’ll need to speak with him.”

The hesitation is what makes you rethink everything. You hated not knowing everything, but you were willing to go along with it if Din was. He wouldn’t work with a place that offered no security, no viable reason to even exist in the first place. You built up the argument in your head. Reasons why you had to see him now being formed into a list you could say, but the man’s sigh gave you all you needed.

“I don’t think he’s working today, but I can lead you to his cabin on the southern side of the facility.”

Your heart fluttered, nerves jumping under your skin.

You would see him again. After all these years.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

A sort of relief filled your veins at that thought. You’d finally get to ask him all the lingering questions that remain in the back of your mind. Of course you’d begin with why he recommended you—why after so many years did he want you here. You expected him to respond with a simple response. Something that would give you just the surface of what was going on in his mind. Yet only one question mattered to you in the end. The one you never got to ask him in all the years you’d been apart.

Why did he leave?

You were absolutely positive that you would need half a bottle of tequila in your veins to even get the words out. So you’d begin with the simplest one on the list you’d been mentally building since that night. What had he wanted from you?

“I never asked your name,” you said, managing to pull yourself out of your thoughts in time to once again see the fences large enough to send a shiver of fear down your spine.

He grinned, the engine of the Jeep loud enough to nearly swallow the sound of your voice. “It’s Malcolm.”

“Malcolm…”

“Jones.” He awkwardly stuck his hand out and the car swerved slightly. “I suppose I should have told you when we first met.”

You shrugged. “I should have asked.”

The wide open space of the dirt road began to narrow—quickly. Until you were practically immersed in a jungle, the sunlight blocked by the trees that stood tall above you. You wanted to ask why the CEO chose such a recluse place. What was the motive of setting up in the middle of nowhere? But your attention was dragged away as something shifted in the distance—causing the trees to sway. You didn’t catch sight of it entirely, barely saw the hint of a dark figure, but it left you gaping. Shock going through your body.

“What was that?” The beat of your heart increased significantly, yet Malcolm continued to drive as if he hadn’t seen a creature the size of a building moving through the jungle.

“Oh just the wildlife.”

You pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Nothing to be concerned with.”

Wildlife your ass. You knew he was lying through his teeth, the way his eyes shifted told you as much, but you couldn’t figure out why. What the fuck was so important to G.I. that they felt the need to keep you in the dark? Your mouth opened, a flurry of questions that could only be construed as an interrogation at the ready, when the jungle gave way to another open area. Only this one didn’t house a large facility on its property. In the center of the tall gates—at least a mile out—sat a cabin with a barn off to the side.

Your heart dropped.

“I believe he’s here,” Malcolm said, gesturing to the large motorcycle that was parked off to the side, the familiar sight nearly sending you into cardiac arrest.

What the fuck were you doing here? You shouldn’t have gotten off the plane. Not when you knew you’d have to confront a man who left you in shambles—forcing you to pick up the pieces on your own.

The jeep rolled to a stop, Malcolm pressing lightly on the horn to draw someone’s attention and you wished the Earth would crack open like an egg and swallow you whole. You took in a deep breath, getting out of the car and following Malcolm’s lead. Except then the cabin door swung open. The familiar thud of boots echoing in the short distance, and there he was. Standing with a mug of coffee in his hands and a neutral scowl on his face.

You felt your stomach flip.

The black henley he wore was stretched across his shoulders, a dark brown leather holster lying over the top. You thought you knew the shape of his body—the breadth of his back and chest. Except you only knew the Din from university. The man who wore a smile and teased you over games of chess. This was a man hardened and aged by time—his brown hair now showing hints of gray, especially in his beard.

His eyes met yours, lips parting slightly, and your mouth went dry when he stepped off the porch, coming closer. The combat boots he wore made indents in the soft dirt as he walked, his footsteps now silent to your ears.

Part of you wanted to sprint back to the jeep and go home. To beg the university to reinstate you as a professor. But your feet were glued to the Earth. Forcing you to stand there in shock as Din came to a stop about a foot away, his eyes roving over your figure. Your heart hammered in your chest, breaths coming in quick and short, and suddenly the list of endless questions you wanted to ask disappeared.

“Dr. Djarin,” Malcolm said abruptly, sticking his hand out. Only to be left awkwardly hanging—Din’s attention solely focused on you.

The title used caused a flicker of shock to linger in your brain, but that vanished just as fast as your words.

“Malcolm,” he replied. His words were blunt—callous—but you weren’t focused on that.

No, you found yourself lost in the gruff sound of his voice—the deep tone you knew so well that you heard it in the back of your mind constantly.

“Before we begin to look over the contracts she wanted to speak with you.”

Your gaze flicked to Malcolm, heat burning beneath your skin wherever Din’s eyes traveled to. You felt like you were under a microscope. As if he was analyzing your genetic makeup and DNA with his eyes. The same brown ones that were seared in your mind.

“Dr. Bishop,” Din mused, lifting his mug and taking a long slow sip.

You decided rather than interrogating him, you simply wanted to slap him.

Malcolm turned to you—confusion quickly overtaking his face. “Er…Bishop?”

“It’s an inside joke.” Din’s mouth curved up on one side—a sight you had memorized like the back of your hand.

While he seemed intent on prolonging this, you didn’t come to play games. “An old one if I recall.”

His eyes lit up at the sound of your voice. “Not that old,” he replied, gauging your reaction.

“Ancient.”

He smiled, a soft chuckle reaching your ears and you felt heat begin to rapidly spread through your body. Fuck him for having this much of a hold over you. Fuck him for standing there looking even better than the last time you saw him. And especially fuck him for leaving. Anger began to burn in your chest, the feelings you once thought gone now returning with new rigor.

“You wanted to talk?”

Clearing your throat, you did what you could to gain control of your emotions. “I wanted to know why you put in my name for a recommendation.”

He shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “Figured it was obvious.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re the best scientist of our generation.”

His words reminded you of the praise he used to shower you with throughout your relationship. All the soft words of love he once told you. They all seemed pointless to you now. Yet there he was. Doing it all over again simply because he believed them to be the truth. You were the best there was in his mind. The only one fit for the job. You hated how the cold shell around your heart began to melt, that familiar old warmth now seeping back in.

“Din—”

The shrill ring of Malcolm’s phone cut you off—shifting your attention back to the man you forgot still stood beside you.

When it came to Din the rest of the world seemed to vanish.

You wanted to tell him that while you may still harbor feelings of anger and slight resentment about your relationship—overall you were grateful. For some reason he handed you this opportunity on a silver platter. Yet you didn’t know that this wasn’t something born out of feelings that had vanished, but rather feelings that still remained. You would never know how his heart hammered in his chest at the first glimpse of you in years. How he wanted nothing more than to be alone with you—to explain why he left.

“Yes sir,” Malcolm said, his hand brushing down his now wrinkled tie. “We’re on our way back.”

The meeting you’d been so worried about was finally coming to an end, leaving you in the midst of a million questions yet not a single answer. You were tempted to stay here—get what you needed from Din—but you also knew you couldn’t risk this new job. Not when you didn’t have one to fall back on anymore. Nodding to Malcolm, you began to follow him back to the jeep. Leaving Din to watch this time as you walked away.

“Bishop,” he called, meeting your stride and coming to a stop directly in front of you—blocking your path to the jeep.

“I’m going back with Malcolm.” You mentally asked him to say the words. Ask you to stay with him. But you knew they wouldn’t come; not when your hopes were simply that.

A figment of your own imagination to cope with his absence.

He sighed, his eyes shifting back to his cabin until he finally met yours again. Except this time you couldn’t read them like before. Din had always been an open book to you since the first day you met. Now he was as closed off as you were. Hiding his emotions to keep his own self safe from a world intent on destroying them.

“Have dinner with me.”

If you weren’t clenching your teeth, your jaw would have surely dropped open. “I’m sorry?”

He shifted on his feet and it was only then did you realize…he was nervous. The sight was a nice change after so long. You’d only ever seen him be nervous once before—the day he asked you to be his. Somehow this felt like that situation—only the circumstances were entirely different. No longer were you two young kids just barely figuring out what it meant to fall in love. No longer did you belong to him.

The truth left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you forced yourself to swallow it.

“You wanted to talk. So let’s talk.”

“Over dinner?”

“If you’ve got a better option.” He grinned.

You shook your head. “Din I’m here for the job. That’s it.”

“So dinner won’t hurt then.”

If you didn’t still harbor a semblance of emotion for him, you would have said no. You would have gotten back in the jeep and gone back to the facility with a clear head—the uncertainty of your situation gone. You would have left him in the past. But you were never good at giving things up when it came to Din; always looking for a way to keep him in your life. Even when he wasn’t there.

If you were smart, you would have made the right choice and gotten over him the second he walked out your apartment door that fateful night.

Except it was too late to change the past and here you were…stuck in a future that led you right back to him.

“Fine,” you said, watching his lips turn up in a small smile that held your entire heart captive. “I’ll be back here at seven. To talk.”

He nodded, stepping to the side and finally giving you a free path to the jeep. “I’ll see you then.”

You were in the midst of making the biggest fucking mistake of your life. Din inviting you to dinner was nearly—if not exactly—as terrifying the second time around. The first time you were a hopeless romantic. A college student with nothing but time and hopes of a grand romance. Now you were a woman who saw the mistakes of your past as clear as your reflection in the mirror you stood before.

The sundress was short, flowy, perfect for the muggy weather of the jungle outside. You had packed it in the hopes of finding a beach nearby. Perhaps on your day off—or when you eventually turned down the offer. You certainly hadn’t packed it expecting to wear it in the same vicinity as Din Djarin.

You wanted to hole up in the small apartment they’d given you, researching everything you could about the new G.I project. But your heart had different plans altogether.

Letting out a breath, you grabbed your phone and headed out the door. Malcolm was kind enough to offer you a ride back to Din’s place, but you were against it. You didn’t want to get stuck there for longer than you had to. So, you took the keys and promised to return the jeep in the morning. Although you were certain you wouldn’t be there long enough to wait till the next day.

The engine rumbled beneath you as you made your way—slowly—through the jungle. Taking the same path you remembered from earlier. You tried to ignore the vastness of the island, but the sight from earlier still plagued you. You couldn’t discern through the darkness of the tree what exactly it was you saw, but you did know for a fact that the size of the creature wasn’t something to ignore.

Whatever they were hiding here wasn’t just going to change the world. It would destroy it.

“Fuck,” you muttered, seeing his cabin in the distance. The lights on the inside were turned on, showing that he was waiting for you.

You swiped the key card Malcolm had given you and watched as the gates slid open slowly. As if giving you an out. You could turn around and pretend nothing happened. But the need to know more had always been your downfall. So, you pressed your food on the gas pedal and drove towards his home, your heart rapidly beating in your chest.

He must have heard the jeep’s engine, because by the time you were rounding the car, he was standing on his porch—a black button down replacing his henley and combat boots switched for nice brown ones. You swallowed thickly, trying to calm the sensation that spilled free at the sight of him put together for you.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, eyes traveling down your body, drinking in the sight of your dress, as you took the steps one at a time—slowly. Almost like you were rethinking being here in your head the longer you looked at him.

Din wouldn’t blame you if that were true.

“I didn’t think I would either,” you replied. You were half an hour late, having spent the better part of the night debating the thought of going. In actuality you were debating on catching a quick flight back home.

“Dinner’s cold.” He stood to his full height and your heart fluttered. “I’ll warm it up.”

“Okay,” you breathed, following him into the cabin.

It was exactly like you expected. Big enough for one person—possibly two—with barely any furniture and little to no signs that he actually lived there. A large couch took up the majority of the living room, a fireplace now burning two broken pieces of wood, and a small side table. You could picture him sitting there reading a novel that was his latest infatuation. A sight you’d come home to many times before.

“It’s…nice.”

He could tell you were lying through your teeth by the grin he wore. “Don’t bullshit me Bishop. I can always tell.”

You laughed, the tension finally being torn apart. “Okay then. This place needs a little life.”

“Hm.” He handed you a glass of red wine and by the smell you could tell it was your favorite. The impenetrable wall that surrounded your heart chipped slightly at the knowledge that he remembered. “Life huh?”

“There’s no pictures on the walls.”

“Not true.” He pointed to the very fake picture of a forest hanging in a plastic black frame on the opposing wall of the fireplace.

You scoffed. “I’ll rescind my statement if you can tell me that you picked it out.” His lack of an answer gave you enough to go on. “Exactly.”

The smell of something in the kitchen drew you closer, the sight of him stirring a pot with a towel over his shoulder sending a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. You’d been there for five minutes and already you felt like you walked right back into a memory. The image of him cooking, the heady taste of the wine on your tongue, the crackle of the flames in the background. Your mind spun—heart rapidly beating the longer you stood there.

Yet no matter how painful it was to be there, you had no intention of leaving. You could allow yourself to live in the fantasy for a bit longer. What was the harm?

“What did you make?”

He turned, sipping at his glass of what you assumed to be bourbon. “You remember that dish I could never get right?”

“Oh…the pasta. That’s right.” You smiled, reliving the memory of each and every time he tried it—only for it to taste a bit off. “You made such a mess in our kitchen with how many times you tried to hand make the pasta. I swear there were times I was ready to…well…” You took another sip of your wine.

Din watched in wonder as you receded in on yourself again—locking up memories that you were too painful to see. Times in your life when you were both happy. Both ready for a future that would never come. He had wanted to marry you—to give you the world—and you were prepared to say yes.

He took in a breath, his heart pounding beneath his chest. “I figured it out. Learned the proper way from a friend who served with me. Thought you might want to try it again.”

Taking a seat at the table, you watched him plate up the meal and set it in front of you. He even remembered how much you usually wanted—as if everything that happened before tonight never happened. There you were, two people who knew each other so well it was scary at times. You knew he hated the taste of the wine you loved, but would kiss you if you drank it anyways. You knew he would prefer to lay with you in bed all day rather than let the real world in, fully content to stay in the fantasy you two created.

You knew him like you knew your own soul, because whether you liked it or not he was still a part of it.

Neither of you spoke as you ate, too focused on getting through to the hard part. The reason why you were actually here. You wanted to know what you were doing here, and he didn’t want you to leave. Except you didn’t know that part. You might never know if Din had any say in the matter. He drank his bourbon, you drank glass after glass of wine, and watched the orange glow of the sunset begin to fade into darkness.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” you said, leaning back in the chair.

An hour of eating dinner had waned into you two sidestepping the reality of your situation for long enough.

He sighed, taking your plates to the sink. “Bishop—”

The nickname caused your heart to twist painfully in your chest. Yet another reminder of what this was. What you had become to each other. Acting as if you were merely old friends catching up, when the reality was that you’d always be so much more.

“I’d prefer if you used my actual name.”

His body went stiff. “Okay,” he murmured.

“Why am I here Din? And don’t give me bullshit answers that I’m the best. I need to know. The truth this time.”

Turning back to you, he leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “That was the truth. You’re here to do a job. I meant what I said in that letter.”

“And that’s it?”

“What more did you want there to be?”

Your heart sank. “So I’m here to change the world? Although if you had looked into G.I. more you would know they’re notorious for stealing scientists work. So what are they actually doing here Din? I know you know.”

His eyes were blazing with an emotion you couldn’t discern, his stiff stance telling you enough. You were pushing against the wall you’d both set in place to block the inevitable from happening. This fight never happened. He had simply left, never giving you the change to let this exchange occur. Except now you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“If you’re making requests then I have one too,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I want you to stop pretending that you didn’t come here tonight to ask me why I left.”

You felt like he’d pulled the trigger on a gun—pain spreading through your body. “Unbelievable,” you muttered. “I was right. I can’t do this.”

Throwing your napkin on the table, you shoved the chair back and headed for his front door. Slamming it open as you went. You were the one leaving this time, putting your past behind you. Except this time was different. This time he did the one thing you never did. He followed you, his footsteps loud and heavy against the wood of his porch.

You were halfway to the car before he finally shattered the wall between you—forcing emotions you thought you let go of back up.

“Bishop!”

You whirled around, pointing your finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking call me that. You lost that right the second you walked out that door.”

“You came here to ask me the question, so ask me.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask!”

He huffed. “Bullshit.”

“Yeah?” You stepped closer. “That’s bullshit huh? Well do you know what I think is bullshit? The fact that you never gave me a reason why you decided to up and leave me behind. What was so important?”

“I had my reasons.”

“Which you never told me!”

He stood tall before you, his hands on his hips and eyes narrowed in your direction. You could practically feel the anger seeping off his body. This is what you wanted to avoid. The confrontation that would inevitably happen the longer you were in his presence. You wanted to leave, to hide away in your job as a professor and never come back. But that was no longer a possibility.

“So now you’re going to leave?”

Anger surged through you—bright and unwavering. “You left me!” Turning away you began to walk back towards the car. “I should have never come here. You left me and yet I come crawling back. How fucking pathetic.”

“Did you ever consider the truth?” He watched you stop in your path, your hands curling into fists. “That I regret leaving you every fucking day of my life?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, your heart twisting violently in your chest. “Don’t—”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

For the second time that night, you broke. “But you did!” You turned, letting him see you cry—giving him a chance to witness first hand the pain he caused you. And you watched as his face crumpled, his shoulder slumping forward. “You broke me in ways I never thought possible. And you didn’t even tell me why.”

“Baby,” he breathed, slowly cupping your cheeks, wiping away the hot tears that burned through your cheeks.

“I came for you Din.” The words were heavy on your tongue—the truth…finally. “I came because…you asked me to. I followed you here.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead falling to press against yours. “I’d follow you to the ends of the fucking Earth. You know that honey?”

Grasping onto his shirt, you felt him pull you closer, his lips a hair's breadth away. “Din…”

“Stay,” he pleaded, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Stay with me baby.”

Take the leap. His words echoed in your head, on repeat. Promising you a future that was different. A future where he didn’t leave—where you were finally happy together. You felt your heart give way to something that burned in your chest, warm and inviting and him. Letting out a breath, you gave yourself the option to leave and end this chapter for good, but something always pulled you back to Din.

“Okay,” you breathed, leaping off the cliff—hoping more than anything that he was with you.

His lips found yours, passion bleeding into your body, and everything clicked back into place. You sighed into his mouth, hand gripping onto his hair as his tongue slid along yours. Drawing out sparks of pleasure. You felt your stomach flutter, your nipples tightening beneath your dress. He could always tease out that all consuming heat that spread through your body—the sensation you longed for.

Scrunching up the skirt of your sundress, he let his hands wander along your skin for the first time in years. Touching each part he remembered you loved most. The parts of you that he’d ingrained in his mind. Your soft moan undid him on the inside—took the broken pieces of his heart and began to reform them before his very eyes. You were the missing part. The emptiness he felt in his heart.

You were his.

“F-fuck,” you whined when his hand dipped underneath your dress, fingers finding you practically soaking through your panties.

He didn’t respond, didn’t give you a single word except a muffled grunt against your mouth, before he began to walk backwards. Back towards his cabin. You stumbled your way up the stairs until he slung your leg around his hip, lifting you slightly to help you—dragging you towards the door and inside. Gripping onto his hair, you dug your teeth into his bottom lip—your back hitting the door with a grunt.

“Every day,” he gasped, hiking you up until your legs were around his waist, your weight leaning against the sturdy wood. “I thought about you every day.”

His hips grinded up, the button of his jeans pressing against your clit, sending delicious sparks up your spine. “I-I need you,” you whined, your lips sliding along his jaw.

“I’ve got you honey,” he whispered, hands tugging down the front of your dress and taking the hardened peak of your nipple into his mouth.

A cry ripped from your throat, your hips grinding down as he tugged on it with his teeth, his fingers pinching the other. That heady sensation was back. Burning its way through you until you couldn’t think straight. You wanted to blame the wine on your actions—how your mind was hazy, body willing to bend for him. Yet you knew the truth. Din had a hold over you that you never wanted to break.

He was the oxygen in your lungs, the strength in your bones.

He was yours.

“Oh—fuck,” he grunted, his mouth pressed to your chest. “‘M not gonna last baby. Not like this.”

Much to your disappointment he let you slide down the door until your feet touched the floor again. His hands dragged the dress up and over your body, allowing it to fall beside him—the sight of you practically bare leaving him speechless. He didn’t know what part of you he wanted to touch first. Which part he wanted to taste.

The dazed look of utter infatuation in your eyes did him in. He pulled you towards the couch, falling back into and giving you free reign to climb on top of him. Which you did earnestly. You breathed a soft moan across his cheek, your hips slotting over his perfectly—as if you’d never been apart to begin with. You knew what he liked, what his body responded to, and you wanted to make him sing.

“I want you inside me,” you gasped, pulling your panties to the side and sliding your fingers through your own slick, your needy sound echoing in his ear.

“You’re trying to kill me.” The sound of the desperation in his voice, the painful desire in his eyes made you smile.

His head fell back when you began to lick at his throat, your now shiny and wet fingers pressing against his mouth. He took them without question, sucking off your taste with a broken moan, his eyes fluttering shut. You felt your walls flutter around nothing at the feeling of his tongue—the heat of his mouth. If you weren’t so eager you’d beg him for more.

Except neither of you wanted to wait anymore. Not after years of not having one another. So he quickly unbuckled his belt, grunting raggedly when your hand wrapped around his cock, precum leaking from the tip and sliding down. You wanted to take him into your mouth. Reacquaint yourself with his taste. But the emptiness in your cunt shoved you towards what you wanted most. The feeling of him inside of you—stretching you open.

Lining himself up, he watched in rapture as you slid him through your folds. The head of his cock bumping against your clit—drawing out a soft sigh from your chest. He wanted to remember this. Sear it in his mind for all eternity. You slowly began to lower yourself onto him—the stretch of his thick cock breaching past your entrance with a slight sting of pain. But nothing would stop you now that you were here.

“Look at you,” he marveled, an awestruck look in his eyes. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Oh—Din—” you choked, your lips finding his, your cry pressed reverently into his mouth.

“So good for me baby,” he murmured.

He let you take as much time as you needed to adjust to his size. Until your hips met his, your face buried in his neck and legs shaking from the intensity of having him inside of you again. A sharp searing heat of pleasure licked up your spine, causing you to go boneless in his arms. He was buried so deep he pressed against parts of you that hadn’t been reached in years.

“I—” Your words dissolved into a whimper, hands grasping onto his shoulders. “Need to move.”

He grunted, his hips shifting upwards and ripping a ragged sound from your throat, your eyes rolling back. “F-fuck.” He felt his body shake, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought against the bliss that threatened to spill over. “So damn tight honey.”

“Please.”

“I-I—shit, oh fuck—I can’t move.” He was gonna lose it if you remained this tight, your whole body practically begging for more. “Need you to cum for me.”

His thumb found your clit and you cried out, your hips shifting. The angle changed and suddenly the head of his cock was pressing against something blinding. Your vision went white, body shaking as he drew you even higher. A garbled sob of his name left your mouth—your nails digging into his shirt. He felt your walls clamp down around his cock and nearly flew off the edge himself. But this wasn’t about him. Not right now.

Pinching your clit between his fingers, he grinded his hips up and with that you broke. Burying your face in his shoulder, you felt the overwhelming bliss of your orgasm overtake you. Turning you into a sobbing mess. Din’s name was a continuous chant on your tongue—your mind numb to everything else—and you wanted more. You needed it.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, his whole body stilling as he felt your cunt fluter rapidly around his throbbing cock. He tried not to move, to think about how your almost naked body was sprawled on top of him.

It took a good five minutes, but eventually you lifted your head. The fucked out smile your face was what snapped the control he had on his body. With a deep rumble in his chest he gripped the back of your throat, his lips colliding to yours in a mess of teeth and tongue. Din could barely contain himself with how sweet you sounded when you came. A memory he thought he’d never get the chance to relive.

Your fingers tore at the buttons of his shirt as he flipped you, pressing you into the back of the couch. His jeans were barely down to his thighs, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when you were begging him, your lips swollen from his teeth and eyes glazed over with lust. Tears leaked into your hair as he held you there, filled to the brim so much it drove you mad. You were everything he could have wanted out of life.

His version of a perfect forever.

“Such a pretty fucking sight,” he rasped, pulling out slowly only to shove himself back in. Your head fell back, a high pitched wail bouncing off the walls of his cabin—your legs tightening around his hips.

“Oh fuck Din!”

His hips slammed against yours, the wet squelch of your pussy mixing with the sweet sounds of your cries filled the room. Din had never heard a more perfect sound in his life. He wanted to keep you here. To bury himself so deep you’d never be rid of him. Cursing loudly he took your nipple back into his mouth, grinning when you spasmed beneath him.

“My perfect girl,” he murmured, hips speeding up until you went silent—your eyes rolling back and chest heaving. “‘M never leaving you. Not again.”

You gasped sharply, the pleasure unraveling through you once more and rendering you speechless. Your nails dug into his skin, thighs shaking, as you gushed on his cock. His hoarse shout of your name echoed in your ears, his face burying into your neck and hips flexing with each stunted thrust. You felt him spill into you, felt the warmth of his cum begin to leak out, and craved to feel it again. Din carved a place for himself in your broken heart with the promise to heal it.

Grasping onto him tightly, you did whatever you could to keep that feeling of his love. To never let it leave you again.

He moaned weakly when he pulled out, the thick mixture of your cum and his now leaking out—probably staining his couch. Although he didn’t seem to mind. With a contented hum he sat up and caught a glimpse of the shiny mess between your thighs. A sight that made his heart stop in his chest.

“I meant it,” he said softly, his hands trailing to your inner thighs, keeping you spread for him.

“Din—”

“I’m staying with you Bishop.”

Your heart stuttered, heart softening at his words. “You will?”

He nodded, kissing your knee and settling himself between your thighs. “Forever.”

Something shifted in your chest, putting itself back in place after being gone for so long. And you welcomed it. Din’s tongue swiped through your folds, pushing away any thoughts that roamed your mind. You’d have time to figure out what this meant for your relationship later. Now you were being thrown back into the rapture of a pleasure that consumed you. He moaned, pressing his thumb against your clit and spitting lewdly on your pussy—watching with a smile when your back arched.

“Cum for me again baby,” he said, his eyes drinking in every part of you he could see. And you fell into it willingly. Begging him for more.

Sunlight broke through his open curtains, causing you to stir awake. Somehow in the middle of the night you’d moved to his bed. Where he proceeded to fuck you two more times until you lost the feeling in your legs. You were still sore, pain blooming where he had gripped your hips tightly and dug his teeth in. A soft snore echoed behind you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

Every emotion you’d gone through last night came flooding back. All the promises he made—the words he whispered against your skin. Each one somehow felt hollow now that you thought back on it. You wanted to believe him. To see if he actually meant what he said or if he simply said it in the heat of passion. But the fear of confrontation still lingered in your chest.

Untangling yourself from him slowly, you gathered your clothes. Din grumbled in his sleep, searching the bed for you. Yet by the time he stirred awake slightly, you were in the jeep. The engine a soothing rumble beneath you as you left your heart behind you.

You wiped away the tears that streamed down your face—the ache in your chest growing the farther you got. You could go back. Climb into his bed and have breakfast as you’d done a million times before. But the past was still something sharp and broken inside of you. A part of your heart that had yet to heal.

Last night shifted things between you two—forever changing the structure of your relationship. Except if there’s one thing you knew, it was this. Din’s words meant very little to you until he actually proved them. Until you knew for certain he would stay—no matter what.

Turning onto the dirt road, you left him behind—driving towards a future that you hoped would be different. A future with him in it.

A loud roar went up in the distance, the stomp of something large practically shaking the ground below. You sighed, oblivious to what resided in the near distance, as you pulled up to the facility. It came again, an echo of something softer meeting it, and there it would remain…for now.

Biding its time in the jungle.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin fic #never break the chain #my writing

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nandorelentlessdelacruz · 10 months

Text

Commenting on S5E03:

OMG, this episode was SO MUCH! I will talk a lot about it, I’m going to be insufferble!

Nandor going to Space, Jesus. I didn’t need to know him from that angle, it’s too cringe LOL His landing made me laugh so hard that I literally got sick of reflux ‘cause I was watching that lying down;

Nadja/Colin’s two-headed cursed thing also made me crack up;

Colin Robinson’s erotic dance will be forever in my mind. He attracted by the doll, but not by Nadja is such a mood;

WWDITS gave a gay parede to probably the very only straight character of the show, of course for 100% political purposes.. LOL I knew it!

Guillermo faces geting all this bullshit above is so MEEE every day whem my people try to be strategically “inclusive”, so relatable;

Also Guillermo day walker confirmed;

Harvey even more yummi than past episodes, I feel like a stalker right now. Harvey, I swear I’m not dangerous;

Nandermo is… Slow? I expect more drama from jealous!Nandor, I won’t lie, but I suppose that going to space is drama queen enough;

Laszlo offering to make the float is so sexy of him, What a man of initiative. I probably have something for scientist Laszlo too, his brain is hot! It’s not surprising that Nandor is intimidated by his intelligence;

#wwdits #wwdits s5

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sherbet-shark · 2 years

Note

Flirty and touchy reader with PLATONIC! Headcanons with Vil, Malleus, Idia and Leona

Prickly Pair

|〘 ⋇ Trigger warnings:〙| Non consensual touches, mentions of innuendoes, Twst Boys being uncomfortable

|〘⋇ Summary:〙| Brutally honest points of how the twst boys react to touchy, flirty platonic reader. Spoilers. Not well. /srs

◦ It depends on what you consider to be “Flirty and touchy,” but I can assure you. He’s not going to like it at all. Leona hates physical touch, even if you’re a friend of his. It doesn’t give you permission to walk up and start touching him across his chest or try to pet his ears or pat his head. Stop. No.

He’ll viscously snap at you, “What makes you think you can come up and touch me? ‘Because you’re a friend?’ Please herbivore. It’s pathetic. Do that again, and I’ll turn you to sand.” Leona has always made his personal boundaries very well-known, and if someone crosses them, he’ll probably have that person be on the “I will avoid at all costs” list.

◦ If you consider constant innuendoes, touching any part of his person. That’s a no-go, but if you’re giving him endless compliments or checking him out before he got enough of your crossing boundaries, he’d be cocky because that’s the thing. He knows he’s hot. Leona knows he is handsome. Everyone, even Vil, calls the Savannaclaw leader stunning. But he also has a limit to this, so you better be conscious of his boundaries.

◦ If you understand that’s crossing his boundaries and change to stop touching him and saying flirty things, he might stop ignoring your entire existence and might find your presence tolerable again. But if you don’t, he’ll leave in the dust, and Ruggie will help him get you away.

◦ Have you seen this man’s face? Have you seen this man’s desire to keep his reputation as pristine and untouched as snow? He’ll be highly prickly if you get up in his space and touch his face. That’s a no-no space. He’ll have to put his skin products on his face because he’d die if there were acne.

He’d be one to appreciate it if you call flirting, giving him genuine heartfelt compliments. Vil hates meaningless words to get his heart flutter, and he sees through those shallow words. He’s an actor, model, and celebrity. So he’s gotten slightly numb to superficial compliments but will act the same and graciously say “thank you.”

◦ Just like Leona, he will confront you, telling you to stop flirting with him. It’s causing him to get his fans and company angry to see leaked pictures of you hanging off his arm while Vil’s face is contorted into a furrowed brow, telling you to stop. He’ll explain that his companies prefer certain desired actors to be single because it feeds into fans' idea that he’s free to them, but this also causes some online drama. But Schoenheit will also sit you down and tell you bluntly and forward. Stop touching him without consent. The ethereal beauty will say to it, “You may be ok with nonconsensual touching, but others may not.”

He’ll also tell you to stop flirting with him, and if you say to him that you see the dorm leader in a platonic sense? That makes him all the more confused? He knows what touchy people are like. Kalim is a prime example. But even Kalim doesn’t do what you’re doing, Vil will press you more, scowling if you see him in a platonic sense because, in all honesty, Vil doesn’t trust you.

◦ If you come out of that in-depth discussion and stop making him angry, he’ll slowly start to trust you again, but Vil keeps an eye on your touchy tendencies. He’ll give you another chance but sometimes reminds you to hold back certain acts. He understands that a person can fall back onto bad habits, but he’s just as unrelenting towards you and Epel’s rebellious nature.

But if you don’t? Vil will also ignore your complete existence and good luck with coming anywhere near the dorm leader now that his hunter is well informed. Rook will act as Vil’s eyes and ears, ensuring you’re at a respectable distance away. If not, if you don’t stop touching him and waltzing up to him, be careful. This hunter will protect his Queen’s beauty.

◦ How would you even be able to get relatively close to him, act touchy and be flirty? It was a genuine surprise to Idia that you’d kept up with him. Suppose you get a kick seeing Idia be a flustered shocked mess the first couple of go-arounds. It doesn’t matter how small the gesture is if you’re giving him the occasional sweet compliment or something more uncomfortable. His cheeks and tips of his hair faint pinks, oranges, and reds appear. But this flushed state will fade if and when you still press and pop his personal space and boundaries. The flush will disappear and be replaced with utter disgust.

◦ Idia is the type to tell you even before it becomes a huge problem, don’t touch him. If your flirting consists of long stares, innuendos, and touches? You’re making this man so uncomfortable. He already has anxiety about going outside in person, with other people’s thoughts, and so on. The next time you will ‘see’ him is when he uses his tablet, and Ortho will step in between you and his older brother to protect him. Depending if you actually manhandle the tablet or Ortho’s had enough, get ready to get a passionate “Get away!” And at this point in time, Idia and Ortho’s trust in you as a person and a friend steeply declines to the point where Ortho actually angrily tells you one day.

“You’ve made my older brother uncomfortable to the point he doesn’t want to befriend anyone anymore because of how you took advantage of Idia’s appearances. It’s already hard enough for my big brother to gain good friends in this school, but when he met you, I thought he’d get a nice friend. But as things evolved, I watched how uncomfortable he’d be whenever you touched him or said something. But it turns out you didn’t. Now, Idia’s heart rate goes up 57%, and he starts to breathe heavily when he sees you, even via the tablet camera. I’m sure you’ve heard Idia’s bitting tangents through the tablet. But please do not speak with or try to see him until you’ve stopped this behavior.”

◦ I’m sorry to say, but if you stopped and started to respect his boundaries after months of him avoiding you and ignoring your existence. Nothing will really change. He’s hurt, distrustful, and bitter towards you. You’ll have to work overtime to prove you’d changed actively. Even then, Ortho still keeps an eye out for you and scowls at you. Idia can hold century-long grudges and the best way to avoid this outcome is to respect his personal space and comfort level.

◦ Malleus is someone that he isn’t used to physical touch, and he’s a little sheltered in the flirty department. But he’s not stupid if you make overly sweet or suggestive comments towards him and touch him. He’s a little confused like Vil. He thought you were friends, nothing more? Is this how certain humans greet and strengthen bonds?

But when you tell him that’s how you are, he tries to understand, but Sebek jumps in and acts as a guard dog. He doesn’t like how you display yourself towards the Lord. Nor does he have anything good to say about your potential intentions. Sebek has a distaste towards humans and how manipulative they can be. You’re no exception. Actually, you’re put on high alert in Sebek’s book. While Silver isn’t as overbearing with his protective behavior towards his Prince, the second year gets stunned about how you act with the future king of a nation.

◦ Malleus will have objections if your touches wander, telling you that you ought to stop, because not only for his social status but for potential backlash if anyone sees a human openly touch the prince. The royal family is expected to have a certain air of regalness, untouchability, sophistication, power, and authority.

If word came, his people would slowly start to feel like their prince wasn’t taking his reputation and responsibility seriously. Not to mention how the royal court would react. While some members became slightly more tolerable of human and high-court Fae relations, it would still be shocking.

◦ But if you start to press onward and disregard all of Malleus’, Sebek’s, and Silver’s words and continue touching and flirting with the Lord. Malleus will become annoyed and less amused as time goes on. Your blatant ignorance floors the dorm leader. But at this time, Malleus will stop trying to seek you out for his reputation, and while he’s not uncomfortable, he doesn’t feel respected when he’s with you anymore. He knows he should be respected and feared, but this wasn’t exactly what he wished.

Lilia might step in on one of your persistent visits to the dorm, telling you to stop. While Lilia’s quite a long-range caretaker when it comes to Malleus, he still keeps an eye on him and is protective over his Princeling. But Lilia, while suspicious of your whole being alongside Sebek, the vice dorm leader, will give you a sliver of slight chance to show your change. If not, you’re not going anywhere near the royal.

Tagging: @rrasado, @millybesippin , @hey-its-cweepy , @luvielle, @citirusu, @twistthedias, @angry-strawberry-pie

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst leona #leona kingscholar #vil shoenheit #twst Vil #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst vil #twst imagines #sherbet writes #sherbet’s headcanons

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nimbasa-librarian · 8 months

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A Friend In Need?

Most other teenagers were straight up afraid of Piers, and he liked it that way.

No typical high school drama bullshit and no distractions from his music. He had his friends. He didn’t really need anymore. Anya had been a welcomed surprise, frankly.

But no one was scared of Anya, despite her stature (She was the tallest girl in the school, but not that tall, all things considered). She was quiet, wore multiple shades of pink and orange, and even on the most humid of days was in a long sleeved shirt or sweater. Her head was always in books, she did her school-work program at the library, and of all the pokemon to have as a partner, she had a damned Yamask.

Half a semester into the school year, Piers had taken to keeping an eye on his new friend. He saw those familiar stares - as in, he knew what people were thinking. He just hoped that no one would be stupid enough.

But halfway through another long evening at the library filling out endless paperwork, Piers heard the startling sound of books falling onto the carpeted floor.

“... oops”

Piers stood up, a sinking feeling gathering in his chest.

“... I’s alright” A slightly sheepish voice reacted. Anya. Her tone gave away that she knew it wasn’t really an accident.

Piers started walking towards the conversation, slowly, quietly.

“You’re in the AP English class, right? Anna?”

“Anya”

“Okay Emma”

Well, that was a predictable dig

“I’s Anya. I’s pronounced-”

“I know how it’s pronounced, mumble-mouth”

“... if a’m mumblin, why’re ya understandin’ everythin’ I say but mah name?”

Oh, sassy. Nice.

“You’re the one with the accent here. Talk like you have a brain and I’ll think about saying your name correctly”

“Ah sure hope y’never go north’a Wyndon with tha’ attitude” Anya responded. Piers cautiously watched a row away, looking between some books “According to you, there’s a whole lotta “no brains” up there. Y’ain’t even got the Spikemuth accent, an’ y’r tryin’ t’tell me that i’m brain-dead jus’ cause I don’t sound like you? Tha’s not fair t’anyone!”

Piers wondered how she could sound so sincere saying something that anyone else might have said with sarcasm. Hell, she did sound offended - but did she not know that she was deliberately being mocked?

On the bright side, it seemed to take the bully - a piss-poor battler Piers recognized from the after school battle group - completely off guard, as Anya adjusted the books in her hand

“If y’ll ‘scuse me. I have these pulled f’r a book pickup comin’ up soon.”

And she abruptly pivoted and left the blubbering buffoon standing there.

Piers decided he needed to assist - if only in the aftermath, and turned the corner

“You’ve got some fukin’ nerve, Herbert Shrew”

“Wah - wuh - Cadell??”

“Y’ know she’s my friend, right?”

“What - well - I mean-”

In what he knew was a rather pompous show, Piers put his hands in his pockets and walked up to the other teenager, leaning forward right into the man’s space

“You talk to her like that again, an’ I’ll make sure you can’t sit right for a week, got it, ya belland?”

“G-Got it!! Crystal!” And the coward rushed out the back door of the library

“Right fuckin wanker” Piers grumbled.

“Mahsk?”

Piers looked up, seeing that Drew - Anya’s Yamask - was floating a few feet away

“Uh, hey, Anya back at the desk?”

The yamask nodded, giving him an interesting look

“What?”

Drew motioned over towards the desk. Piers furrowed his brow.

Did he… want him to check on her? Piers supposed that made sense.

“Is she not doin’ great after that?” Piers asked the pokemon.

Drew’s expression was telling.

“Hm, alright, come on. Does she like coffee?”

Anya had never gone to the principal’s office before.

But then again, she’d never had to wrestle someone to the ground before - she was stronger than she looked, dang-nabit. She hated even touching people most of the time, but anger and determination can cloud that shit real quick.

Piers was sat on her left, looking a little exhausted, black eye partially hidden by his makeup.

The fight had been sudden, and hilariously unprovoked. At least, that's what Anya had assumed before Piers had admitted to threatening them.

“They’d been talkin’ about wrecking the library to make your life harder an’ I told ‘em I’d get m’friends and I to wreck them if they did that”

Anya was a bit too emotionally detached to speak, but signed a simple '... Why?'

“It seems they didn’t like that you were beatin’ ‘em at wrestlin’”

Anya’s scowl deepened, but she didn’t communicate further.

“... They were wailing on me” Piers stated “Why’d you barge in?”

Anya looked at him, and signed quite succinctly

‘Friend’

Piers took in that simple sign, and the seeming weight it held coming from a person he knew didn’t have many friends, period.

“... Can I have your hand?”

His palm was up, an offer as casual as he could manage it given his emotions.

She stared at the hand for a while, eyes not staying focused on any one thing, but falling back on the hand again.

Her hand grabbed his, and the two of them sat in silence, ready for the scolding they’d be getting from the principal.

At least they were doing it together.

#FYI #pokemon #pokemon oc #anya ambermight #nimbasa librarian #pokemon Piers #piers caddell #gym leader piers #Galar #spikemuth #Yamask #galarian yamask #fan fiction #written only

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cvnicalmnm · 2 years

Text

Louder (Dream x Female! Reader)

Warning: Slight degradation, ooc because plot, suggestive, college au, both are streamers but try to hide it, use of real names

Of course he had to be your partner, because what else would the universe have for entertainment? It obviously needs some drama, as it constantly stirs up the stewing and brewing tension between you and Dream. "Hey, could you pay attention at least a little? I know you don't like me, but I won't let your attitude get in the way of my GPA." ah yes, what's that phrase again? Speak of the devil and he'll appear? It's definitely true, though it seems my thoughts are enough to bring the torturous breaths of the man in front of me. I let out a small sigh before sitting down on the stool in the lab area of our classroom. "Well, let's get on with it then." I paused for a small second and then quickly turned my head towards the male. "Wait, I do not have an attitude. I simply reciprocate the energy I receive. It's not my fault you've got such horrible vibes that it appears as my own." Dream scoffed as he huffed into his seat next to me. Compared to me as well as the desk, he looked like a grown man playing with a child and her toys. This led to me pondering what kind of father he would be to children.

"Hey, I told you to pay attention. God....I can't deal with this right now.." I just shrugged and got my computer out of its bag. The bag was filled with my streaming logo and was very obviously merch. I heard a quiet chuckle from beside me and immediately followed the source. "What's so funny, pretty boy? You act like you don't constantly tote around every single item of Dream merch." This caused the blond to scoff and instantly put a damper on his mood, evident from his lack of a smile. Seeing the decrease in energy, mine was increased, almost like I drained his own. Filled with an odd giddiness, I pull up Microsoft Word to begin typing our project outline. "Alright so I'm gonna get this doc set up for our outline so we can put our info and stuff into it. I'll go ahead and send it to-" A ding from my computer was heard as I saw a notification pop up in the lower right hand corner. 'Clay Johnson has sent you an email. (1 file attachment)' I look at the blond beside me and grunt. "I was in the middle of talking and creating a professional work space. You probably put it together in seconds just so you could have ownership of the doc." I open the email with the subject being, 'Get better sweetheart <;3' and click on the attachment. "Sweetheart? Really? That's the best you've got Clay?" My snarky attitude is cut short and replaced with shock when the document loads, revealing a beautiful presentation on Microsoft Word. "When did you-how-" "You and the professor talk a lot, and I'm excellent with my fingers." He chuckled to himself as my cheeks flushed and progressed along with my annoyed groan. "Come on, your dumbass can code a better response than that." Dream began his stereotypical wheeze and cackle combo, stopping abruptly by my palm over his lips. "Dear God, shut the hell up Clay. We're getting stares from the professor and as you said, you won't let my attitude ruin your GPA. Therefore, shut the fuck up." He continued to chuckle from behind my hand, his breaths hitting and tickling me.

I let out a frustrated whine as my friend's laughter could be heard from my headset. "He isn't that bad, I think you're just irritable." As my other friends agreed, I cut them off. "Oh, Karl hangs around rich men and suddenly starts saying big words." This left two of the men in the call cackling as Karl sulked. "You're being mean for no reason, I think James and Robert are rubbing off on you." I sighed and rubbed my temples as I heard my email notification pop up again. 'Clay Johnson has sent you an email.' "Ugh, speak of the devil, and he shall appear I guess. Why does the universe just enjoy torturing me?" After hearing this, the three boys perked up and began talking over one another. "Ooh tell us what your boyfriend said!" "Let us hear come oooon." "Guys stop he's not her boyfriend, he's her soulmate." A soft grunt of annoyance could be heard from me as I opened the email.

'Hey Ms. Brat,

we've gotta get that work started and we don't have time to work on it in class until Friday. Here's my number. Call whenever you're done having an orgy with the football team. ;p

From Your Favorite Genius,

Clay Johnson'

"Sounds like he's got either a massive one on him, or he's compensating." The call erupted into hysterics full of cackles, giggles, and hitched breaths trying to breathe. "I'm gonna say it's probably the latter, Rob." The three gave each other a look before all leaving the call. "What the hell? They all just left. Oh well, guess I should go ahead and call this asshole. No reason to let my grades suffer over an egotistical dick."

#dreamwastaken #dream x reader #cc dream #x reader #karl jacobs #streamer reader #twitchstreamer #college au

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chidoroki · 2 years

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Black Clover ch342

Ichika mentions their clan was made up of successful and powerful assassins so right away that makes the revelation we learned about Yami massacring them all a bit more believable, I guess? like I can only imagine everyone in said clan taking up some kind of training to become part of the kijin, especially if their tasked with protecting the Land of the Sun. Not entirely sure Yami was too fond of the idea, or at least not how his father viewed it.. or him in general.

He certainly doesn’t give off the best first impression anyways. Hating on Ichika just because she’s a girl? And quite possibly blaming her for his wife’s death? That’s some Silva family type drama. No wonder Yami took Noelle into the Black Bulls. I also really want Ichika and Noelle to meetup somehow. They could bond; either get along real well, or not, and I dunno which scenario I’d wanna see more. But whatever, moving on; their father is a bastard for also trying to hurt them.

Whether the guy is drunk or not, it’s still impressive Yami managed to hold him back as he’s only around 13 here. Their father clearly only cares about strength as well. Just imagine if he saw how powerful Ichika became today. Unfortunately for him, he won’t see that happen.. because death.

Also unfortunate again because it seems Yami could care less about training to become stronger, seeing how he just decides to head out to fish moments later. A wild Qwilfish appeared. Nice to see despite all the family drama that there’s still something here Yami can find some kind of joy in.

Of course the pleasant moment doesn’t last long. After chatting about dreams and how Ryu wants people in this country to live as equals, Ichika’s story takes the dark turn to the night of the massacre. Now I’m not too concerned with the father, since we saw how ruthless he was to his kids, but the whole clan? I’m with Asta on this by saying that really doesn’t sound like the Yami we know.

Sure we might not know the whole story yet (maybe we’ll learn his side to it one day), but I believe there had to be something else involved that lead Yami to killing everyone. Now at the very beginning of the chapter, we get some background info, courtesy of Ichika, of the kijin, the province they guarded and this five-headed dragon. I’m gonna make a little theory.. and say that it’s due to the poisonous and dragon yoryoku soaked pufferfish Yami caught (and most likely ate) that caused him to to act out and retaliate against this clan. It seems silly, I know, because I’m sure everyone catches and eats fish from that sea, so why wouldn’t they be effected? Well the folks near Yami during his catch did say this kind of pufferfish was rare and maybe its poison mixed with the yoryoku it was swimming in made for some weird side effects upon our young man eating it, who I doubt even cared if he ate the poisonous part of the fish or not. I dunno okay. Perhaps they only gave us that dragon story because of the time/space distortion tidbit and that’s how Yami actually ended up in Clover. Who knows.

Anyways, the kids are fighting and I’m still in the middle on this. Yes Ichika saw it firsthand, or at least the very end of it, but we, along with Asta, know Yami better than that. Hell, even the flashback we saw from Julius, William and whomever else about a younger Yami seemed innocent enough.

Ichika then decides to say “fuck it, let’s actually fight” and pulls off a fairly impressive yojutsu. I also like how the scrolls have different designs on them just like the grimoires do. We didn’t really get a good look at the few scrolls we saw previously and even then they seemed a bit plain, so this is nice to see.

I haven’t a clue on how well Asta will do up against this. Poor lad got destroyed during their last fight and I don’t think much time has passed since then. Hopefully he trained well enough to not die at least. I’m rooting for you Asta!

#black clover #bc manga #chidoroki used chatter

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xadoheandterra · 7 months

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A W A K E N I N G

Series: Purple Stars

Title: A W A K E N I N G Fandoms: Undertale, Harry Potter Scenes: I | II | III Characters: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin Tags: dementor attack, gaster is harry, hurt/comfort Summary: The SOUL is a curious thing. It can remember, even when the MIND forgets. It can remember, even when the BODY does not know. It is also FRAGILE.

The train ride had been, up to a point, a rather normal one. Despite the apparent danger and the slumbering, shabbily dressed man who was probably their new Defense professor, nothing weird had happened. Usually at least once there was a ruckus somewhere on the train, typically caused from a synthesis [1] gone awry, usually because a firstie didn't know any better. This year though the ride had been relatively quiet, and for the time Harry hoped that meant he would be able to arrive at school without drama or something going wrong.

Of course even thinking that was bound to drag upon what Ron joking called his 'Potter Luck' which, honestly, Harry hated. He hated that he seemed to be Cursed, because certain and sure enough the train began to slow down. Everyone looked out the windows in confusion, Hermione mumbled something about the length of time for the train ride being off. Ron's stomach grumbled loudly.

Harry felt a pit growing in his chest, a sudden primal sort of fear that dug into his chest beneath his ribs, in his lungs like a black knot that rose up into his throat and threatened to choke him.

"Someone's moving outside," Ron spoke softly, just before all lights on the train shut off. Harry swallowed heavily, listened as all up and down the car children let out shrieks of surprise and terror. The sudden surge of emotional energy raised the overall tension in the whole car. Harry could almost taste it on his tongue, a type of static that made it feel numb.

The door to the compartment opened and there was, for a moment, a bit of a scuffle between parties as Neville and Ginny entered into the compartment. Everyone tried to re-situate themselves as quietly as they could but toes were still stepped on, and Harry had almost been sat on at least once. No one wanted to wake the professor who looked like he needed the sleep given the bags under his eyes.

The shuffling, whispered arguments between everyone weren't silent enough, however, and in short order the sleeping professor was woken. His voice was as hoarse and haggard as he looked, and he spoke with a sharp, "Quiet!" to get everyone to settle down. It worked, Harry noted, and then tilted his head at the man. He could hear him shift around, almost see him move in the dark but that was a little silly to think. The compartment was pitch black, and it was well into night outside the train itself.

The emotions, still heightened from the sudden shock of the train powering completely off, spiked with sharp static on Harry's tongue. A second later a crackling flame lit up the professors palm. It illuminated his tired, gray face even if the rest of him looked on alert. Physically he still looked exhausted, but magically he was tensed Harry realized. Worried. This was not a planned stop.

"Stay where you are," the professor said. He got to his feet, held the flames in front of him, slightly above his head. The shadows elongated down his face like tears of black as he looked not at the compartment, but at the door that slid open. Harry tried to peer around the man, to see who tried to enter--

--there was nothing there, only shadows long and dark that seemed to devour everything. Whatever-it-was towered over even the professor, brushed against the ceiling. It took Harry a second to realize the shadows were a cloak, blacker than night, deeper than--

--v̶̡̳͖̳̀̋͆̾̌o̷̢͚̼͖̼̊i̸̢̭̺̤͑͒̔͘ḋ̸͔̬̑̃ [2]--

--than anything Harry could even think of. A desiccated hand slipped back into the shadows as the creature--it wasn't human, it couldn't be human--settled into the space around it with a long, rasping inhale of breath. The static of heightened emotions peaked quite suddenly, sharply twisting on Harry's tongue. He could almost see it rise like a mist in the room, twist around toward the shadowed shape and form. The room grew cold, colder than cold and Harry could see his breath as he shivered quite suddenly under the onslaught.

He thought he heard the professor yell something, but he couldn't focus. He couldn't think. Someone was screaming--

--h̴͉̓i̸͈̔s̵̡̃ ̴̈́ͅS̶̩͘O̷̤̎Ȕ̶̩L̵̫̑ ̴̩̍p̸̘̒u̸͍͐l̷̯̍s̶̟͌ê̴̯ď̸̡ ̷͔͊d̴̪͑e̶͔͐ḛ̴̊p̵̬̄ ̶̫̕w̴̘͘i̶͇͘t̵̘͌h̸̰̔ì̷̝n̴̠̍ ̸̝͗h̴̞̔i̶̝͂s̷͉͊ ̷̧̏c̴͈͝h̴͇͗ë̸͓́s̴̤̓t̷͉͊ ̷̙̈i̸̺͝n̷̛̞ ̶̹̓t̵̲̀i̶̲̓m̸͈͝e̵̩͆ ̵͔̅ṫ̵̤ȯ̴̠ ̷̢̌ţ̴̋h̸̤́ë̶̘́ ̴̮͠b̷̧̒ḙ̶̏a̸̩̋t̶͙̋ ̴͕̈ȯ̴̫ḟ̴̹ ̴̘̿h̵̲͘i̶̪̐s̶̜͒ ̷̮̆ẖ̴̈ȅ̵̯ā̶̯r̵̜̅t̴̬͐ [3]--

--when Harry came to it was with his head in Hermione's lap, skin clammy. A mug of hot chocolate rested on a small tray next to him. Beneath his back he could feel the rocking motion of the train once more, now on the move. For a long, long moment Harry just breathed, quiet, with his gaze to the middle distance as Hermione stroked fingers through his hair, and Ron grasped tight to his hand.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked after a moment, and Harry turned his head to look at the ginger teen who rested his back against Hermione's knees.

"Who was screaming?" Harry asked, and it hurt to do so. His throat was sore, his head throbbed, and his chest felt like he'd run a mile with the worst flu he had ever gotten.

"No one was screaming," Hermione whispered. "Drink the hot chocolate. Professor Lupin said it should help."

It would, Harry knew, and he accepted the mug from the tray as he sat up. Chocolate had healing properties that they still knew so little of, but it worked wonders for magical related exhaustion and the effects of a SOUL drain [4]. Harry sipped the mug of chocolate, felt the way it warmed him down deep into his bones, and sighed tiredly. He leaned against Hermione, dug his fingers into Ron's shoulder, and drifted in the feeling of warmth.

The air was still full of static, of heightened and terrified emotions, but it was beginning to wane, now.

Harry completely missed the concerned looks his two best friends exchanged as he drifted with the warm, magical feeling of hot chocolate.

Hidden deep, wrapped and steeped in magic not its own, a SOUL beat a sharp staccato of fearterrorhorror. Just a bit of the magic surrounding it, chains and binding seals, began to fray.

[1] A synthesis is a specific SOUL event where two SOULS of similar type end up resonating together, with the requirement that one SOUL be lingering and the other SOUL living. This typically results in a situation of "semi-possession" on the living SOUL from the lingering SOUL. The living SOUL often does not know that they have a lingering SOUL attached to them until after the lingering SOUL has been banished or moved on.

[2] void

[3] his SOUL pulsed deep within his chest in time to the beat of his heart

[4] SOUL drain is a unique condition of the SOUL typically either caused by attacks like Sans' Karmic Retribution, or by the presence of a Dementor. It is where the SOUL itself suffers from a "damage over time" effect, caused by either turning the SOULs own stats against it (such as in Sans' Karmic Retribution) or by actively trying to siphon away portions of the SOUL akin to a Dementors presence. This effect, if not treated quickly, can result in a permanent SOUL damage which in return can cap a SOULs stats.

#undertale #harry potter #wd gaster #gaster #ron weasley #hermione granger #remus lupin #fic: purple stars #fic: a w a k e n i n g #fanfic

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dazz-linglight · 3 years

Note

Got7 reaction jealousy

MARK

Mark is not one to openly show jealousy in public, but if looks could kill, that male waiter would be sprawled out on the floor five minutes ago. The guy was ogling you since he came to get your orders and had the audacity to slip his number under your plate.

After both of you were the meal, Mark got up to pay and took the little note with the guy's number, then you walked out holding hands. With the free one, Mark threw the paper in the closest bin on the street.

"Whack ass trying to steal my girl."

"Nobody can steal me from you."

JAEBEOM

You left him in the dance floor to go to the bathroom and on your way back you encountered a male friend you met back in school and got distracted talking to him, laughing and telling jokes. JB noticed you were taking too long to come back so he started looking for you and was beyond jealous to see you talking to that guy who dared to take your precious time with him, your boyfriend, your promised one. A little affected by alcohol, he glared and decided he had enough, leaving his glass and stomped over to where you were, starting to hear your conversation.

"Oh please, you couldn't!" you laughed out loud, holding your stomach lightly.

"It's true!" He replied, giving a chuckle. JB was fuming and got closer to grip your hand, causing you to yelp in surprise and look back to see him.

"I'll be taking back my girlfriend back now, thank you." Your eyebrows raise in shock.

"Okay man, chill." The guy muttered and JB dragged you to an empty hallway, pinning you to the wall to kiss your neck and you knew he was jealous, you could read him like a book. The way his eyebrows were furrowed and his chin was out a minute ago.

"Jae, we're in public.." You squirmed when he left a visible mark on your neck.

"Then let's go home."

JINYOUNG

You shoot awake from your sleep and sit up trying to shake the thoughts of the dream you had, but the image of Jinyoung leaving you for another girl keeps dancing in your head. You decide to get out of bed when you hear your his raspy sleepy voice.

“Love, what are you doing? Are you alright?” You turn your head slightly to look over your shoulder at him and shake your head no. It only takes seconds for you feel hands on your waist in attempt to pull you in for a hug and you kept stiff for a while.

“Did you have a bad dream?” You sniff on his shoulder and wrap your arms around him, he gets caught off guard feeling a drops on his shirt.

"You were with someone else." You mumble quietly and he could only hear because of the proximity, immediately holding your cheeks to look at him and dried the few tears you let out.

"That's not going to happen, ever. I'm here for you only, okay?"

"Okay.." He patted your hair lovingly and reassured you back to sleep, keeping you closer than before.

JACKSON

You and Jackson were on the seaside travelling on vacation and staying on the hotel closest to the beach to enjoy the summer well. So it's natural to match the weather and use weightless and short clothes, bad thing is dealing with other people's eyes.

“I don’t like them all looking at you.” Jackson grumbled about the men looking at you as the two of you walked to the hotel pool in bathing suits and pulled you closer to his side. You rest a hand on his sharp jaw and turn him to look at you.

"All they can do is look, you’re the only one who can touch me.” You whisper on his ear and watch his serious expression fading into a mischievous smile.

"Let's give them something to look?" You nod and he brings you to his front, leaning down to give you a long kiss.

YOUNGJAE

You know you shouldn't get jealous over his romantic scenes on the drama, but you couldn't help but be a little bothered everytime it came up, leading to now that Youngjae came home from his schedules and you were spacing out in the couch while the drama was still going on TV.

"Baby?" You shake your head and turn to look at the direction of his voice in surprise, not having noticed when he entered.

"Oh, you're here." You get up turning off the show and run up to hug him tight, scattering kisses all over his face until his ears were tinted red, finally moving to kiss his lips. A minute pass by and he pulls away first, giggling at your behavior.

"Did you miss me that much?"

"Very much." You felt satisfied having him in your arms and knew you didn't have to worry about others.

BAMBAM

You've been friends with Yugyeom for a long time before you started dating Bambam, so you had a lot of inside jokes and sometimes hang out together and sometimes it made Bambam feel jealousy watching those interactions. Now he got to your apartment after a stressful recording session and you're in the living room a mini dance competition with his best friend.

"Bam! Do you want to join us?!" You stop to invite him with a smile and a little breathless from dancing, but Bambam only shakes his head and storms off to the bedroom with heavy steps. You know he's not usually this way, so it required your girlfriend powers to go and seee what happened.

"Bammie? Are you okay?" He got his back to you while undressing and just sighed.

"I'm fine, I just didn't know we would have visits today when I just wanted time alone with my girl." He stated and you approached him quietly to get a face to face vision.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you.."

"BAMBAM, NOONA, I'M LEAVING~" Yugyeom announced from the living room and you both could hear the door closing seconds later.

"Can I make you company on a bath?" You inquire touching his build up muscles and see the corners ofhis lips twitching up

"Say less, baby girl."

YUGYEOM

Yugyeomm took you out for a fancy dinner, both of you dressed up to have a nice night together, so he's surprised to find a random guy in front of your table after the waiter got your orders.

"Hello?" He quizzed thinking the man was mistaken or something and you look up to see your ex.

"Who is this, _____? You already replaced me?" The man asked looking at you and back to your boyfriend with a judgemental look. It made Yugyeom frown, but before he could clap back you speak up.

"Jinwoo, what are you doing? We're over and this is not a place for you to make a scene." You try to keep composed and tone down to not attract unwanted attention.

"It's been a year, I thought it was enough time for you to forgive me but you already have another man in my spot?"

"Yes and she's better with me. We look great together, don't you agree?" Yugyeom spoke, voice and posture filled with passive aggressiveness. "Go back to where you came from, there's no space for you here." He finished and gladly diverted the attention from Jinwoo and back to you.

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outerbankies · 3 years

Text

new light part 4: underneath the moonlight — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you and rafe meet the parents (properly) and go to midsummers together, but not everyone is as smitten with your relationship as you two are.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: say hello to a few characters (tw: ward) i have had yet to feature thus far 🤗 more of y/n being besties with kelce (and topper this time—our fave obx himbo) there’s a lil drama in this part y’all... into the thick of it. thanks for all the feedback 💖not canon rafe

my writing

yeah if you give me just one night, to meet you underneath the moonlight

You’re startled awake by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You’re squished between 6 feet and 3 inches worth of boy and the pink wall your bed is pushed up against. Rafe always insisted on laying on your outer side, closest to the door of your bedroom. Which means you often woke up pressed into the wall, your neck sometimes aching from the awkward angle. Not to mention Wilbur always taking up the space at your feet, Rafe usually nudging him into your space so he could stretch out.

Rafe stirs also, making sleepy noises and stretching his legs where they hang off the end of your bed. He grumbles and smacks his lips together a few times, your hand instinctively coming to rub along his jaw. His eyes flutter open as the sun streams in through your window, illuminating the hint of golden stubble on his chin. You’d only slept over together a few times, since you were both staying with your parents for the summer, so it’s always nice to wake up with your boy in your bed.

Oh fuck. Your boy is in your bed.

Rafe's eyes widen at the same time as yours.

“Oh shit, we fell asleep?” he whispers, head whipping around your room.

“Fuck, you have to hide right now,” you whisper, stumbling through your thoughts sleepily.

Another knock sounds from the door.

You extract yourself from your spot between Rafe and the wall, his hands guiding you by your hips as you tumble over him.

“Just, fuck, just like—get under the covers or something. God, I hope it’s not my dad,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says, slinking into the gap between your bed and the wall as best he can, covering his face with a pillow.

You check that he’s concealed enough, turning to open the door just the slightest bit. Dylan stands in the crack.

“We have brunch at the Club in an hour, mom wanted me to ask if you invited Rafe,” he peers around you, gaze moving to behind your shoulder. “Or I could just ask him myself. Sup, Rafe?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dyl,” you whisper-shout. “Where are mom and dad? Can he sneak out the back? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll tell them about Hilton Head.”

“God, calm down. Dad’s in the garage and mom’s getting ready. Just have him go now.”

“Thanks,” you say, all but slamming the door in his face. You turn around and press your back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

The covers rustle, and Rafe springs out of your bed to gather his things while Wilbur watches him. He always starts pouting when he notices that Rafe is putting on his hat or shoes, signs that he’s about to leave.

“We are so dead.”

“You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? I don’t think I can sit at brunch with your dad in an hour if he knows I slept in your bed last night.”

“Not if he’s smart,” you sigh. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No, I got it. Just keep Willy in here. I’ll text you when I make it out alive. If you don’t hear from me, just assume your father murdered me,” he jokes, leaning down to give you a kiss after he slips his shoes on. “See you back here in an hour?”

“Yes, please be early. And clean shaven.”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t insult me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Nervous?”

“Not nearly as nervous as I will be if I get caught, sweetheart. Gotta go so I have time to shower—and shave. See you in a bit.”

He gives you one last kiss before he departs, and you move to the window with Wilbur to watch him slink across the backyard, arms crossed and a fond grin on your face. He turns and blows you one last kiss before he disappears around the side of your house.

—

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?”

Your dad’s voice comes from his study as you pass by, checking yourself over in the entryway mirror one more time. Rafe should be here any minute.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. You feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Your dad only invited you to talk in his study if it was something serious. The last time he did was when he told you he was going to take away your Range Rover if you didn’t pull your Bs up to As your freshman year of college. You’ve had a 4.0 ever since.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk about the new boyfriend.”

“What about him?”

“I always knew of him while the two of you were growing up. But I talked to him a bit back during Dylan’s grad week.”

As an unruly teenager and the rightful heir to his father's business, everyone in the Outer Banks knew about Rafe and his antics. Good or bad. You could even recall your mom gossiping to your dad, words passed on from Rose, about some of his more... notable incidences.

“Y-yeah, he's...” you trail off, searching for the right words to describe Rafe these days.

“Seems like a good kid,” your dad supplies.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Business, mostly. His future and whatnot.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, I just wonder... are you sure about this one? When you were kids, that boy was always causing trouble. And you know your mother and I were always so proud of how you stayed in line.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But Rafe’s not a boy anymore. Just give him a chance.”

“I will,” your dad says, slapping his knees to stand up. “But I'm also gonna give him a hard time.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s my job. Your mom gets to freak out about Dylan moving out, and I get to handle scaring every man who gets to look at you.”

The doorbell rings.

“Please. I am literally begging.”

Your dad draws a fake halo around his head, and you just roll your eyes.

The morning gets off to an even more embarrassing start as soon as Rafe crosses the threshold into your house. Wilbur jumps into his arms immediately, all ninety pounds of him, and your mom’s eyes widen.

“My goodness, he’s usually so hesitant around strangers!”

Dylan chokes on a laugh, and if you weren’t across the room you’d have elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, I’ve walked Wilbur by Tanneyhill before.”

“Yeah, I-I love Willy. Mrs. Y/l/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Rafe says, effortlessly following your lead after Wilbur scampers out of his hold. He shakes your mom’s hand politely. Your dad sidles up to her then, fixing Rafe with a stare harder than you’d prefer. “Mr. Y/l/n, you as well. Thanks again, to both of you, for inviting me.”

“Good to see you, Rafe,” your dad says, a strong hand clamping onto his shoulder. “Dylan, come say hi.”

Dylan’s grin is devilish, and you're just watching on in pure horror at this point. “How have you been, Rafe? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

—

Rafe’s grinning ear to ear, hand firm on your thigh, all of the windows in his truck rolled down. He even popped the sun roof, letting you blast your playlist all the way down the road.

“Okay—I just... did that go well?”

“You did great, Rafe.”

Despite Dylan's best efforts to embarrass you two, brunch had gone really well. Your dad took a second to let his guard down, unlike your mother who was immediately gushing over him. You could practically see the wheels in her head turning, the wedding colors she'd picked for you. And your dad came around quick enough once Rafe brought up Formula 1.

Your boyfriend looks so relieved, hand even coming to feel the air pass through his fingers as he hangs his arm out the window, hand on your thigh coming back up to steady the wheel. He taps on it excitedly.

“Lowkey, feel like I nailed it, baby.”

“Okay,” you giggle, leaning over to peck his check. You pull him in with a soft hand to the other side of his face. “Let’s not get too big for our britches.”

“Oh, I’m a parent-meeting expert now. Might go into consulting.”

“You’ve perfected the sport?” you joke.

“No, no. That’s—I’ve never actually met parents before,” he admits.

“No way?”

“Way? Have you?” he asks, slight edge seeping into his tone as he pulls up to the stoplight outside of your favorite coffee spot.

“Uh... once. We weren’t even really dating yet, but they came to visit and he like, ambushed me with them at dinner. They were kinda hippies, though.”

“Yeah?” His tone is clipped as he parks his truck.

“Yeah, some guy from my comparative literature class sophomore year,” you sigh. “But, you’re the first to meet my parents.”

“Mm,” he hums, fingers tapping on your knee. That satisfies him. He gathers one of your hands in his. “You coming in?”

“Will you just get me a latte? Kinda wanna call my mom and debrief.”

He laughs, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Oat milk?”

—

Your original plans to meet the Camerons fell through, a last minute staging emergency arising when you were all supposed to go for dinner. You’d tried not to look down while Rafe attempted in earnest to cheer you up, telling you how pretty you looked while you took out your earrings and let your hair down. He'd kissed the crown of your hair and apologized profusely, promising they would love you when they finally got to meet you.

“M’not upset.”

“Okay.” His hand stroked your back through the thick cotton of one of his old water polo sweatshirts he’d let you borrow for the night.

“I’m just really nervous about meeting them. You might’ve set the bar a little too high with my parents.”

“You just have a great family.”

“I don’t know,” you said when you finally cracked a smile. “Made it pretty far on your first try.”

“Don’t worry. They’re going to love you, sweetheart.”

You let him kiss your cheek, your forehead, your nose and chin.

“Hope so.”

“Know so.”

And Rafe had somehow convinced your father to let you go to Midsummers with his family, promising to join up for pictures and greetings later. Your dad had willingly let him, to your surprise.

The event was a big deal to Figure 8 patriarchs and matriarchs alike, always trying to outdo the other in every way, all while feigning some sense of island camaraderie. But when Rafe had set aside time at brunch to specifically ask your family for their permission to accompany you to the event, they’d been hard pressed to say no. Your family immediately accepted Rafe as your boyfriend, any lingering hesitations about his character drowned out by the equal chances of your personal happiness and the heightening of their social and business profiles.

But he’d still come to your house to pick you up, ready to greet your parents in the foyer once again.

He takes one look at you in that blush pink dress, hair, makeup and jewelry all done up this time around, daisy flower crown in place, and flicks his eyes around his surroundings. Your father and Dylan were nowhere in sight, and your mother was busy fixing her earrings in the hall. He takes to your side immediately, a kiss to the side of your head followed by his lips pressing against your ear. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

With the high from those words, you ride in his truck to Midsummers, nerves never dissipating no matter how many reassurances he speaks across the summer air streaming in through the vehicle. “Remember, they’re gonna love you.”

He helps you down from his truck so you can focus on keeping your dress off the ground, assuring you for the fiftieth time that Rose is going to like your headpiece.

“Miss Y/l/n, how lovely to see you again you at last,” Ward sighs, sounding somewhat fond. “Rafe’s been talking my ear off about this, meeting you again even though we’ve already met. Sorry we couldn’t make it work earlier.”

“No worries, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for inviting me to tag along with your family at Midsummers. You as well, Mrs. Cameron. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you! And of course,” Rose says, bringing you in for a hug, one you definitely were not expecting.“You’re out in California, aren’t you?”

“Yes, home for the summer.”

“That’s a long way from here,” Ward says. His eyes flicker to Rafe. “Long way from Georgia. Shorter, but still a long way.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Rafe cuts in, and you can feel his hand gripping the back of your dress:

“He’s just stating the obvious, Rafe,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, it is far,” you agree. Rafe’s head whips around back to you.

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. To anyone else in the vicinity, he probably sounds confident and self assured. But you know Rafe, and you can look into his eyes and see that he’s not. That if he weren’t in front of his entire family, trying earnestly to impress his father, he’d have said: ‘we’re gonna figure it out, right?’

“I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to,” Ward says after a lapse in conversation. “One way or another.”

“Let’s get some photos so we can all enter and the two of you can run off,” Rose says immediately after, giving neither of you the time to say anything else.

You do your best to shake off Ward’s comment as the four of you join up with the Cameron daughters, plus Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. After posing for what felt like hours, the photographer asks you and John B to hop out so they can take some family pictures, the two of you swiping up a couple of Old Fashioneds from the bar. You have to assure Rafe twice that you’ll be okay for ten minutes on your own.

“First time meeting Ward?” Sarah’s boyfriend asks, leaned up against the bar like he owns the place.

“Er—of course not,” you say, like it’s obvious. But of course John B knew nothing about Figure 8 social circles. “Just the first time as Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you look nervous,” he admits, chuckling when your mouth drops open. “It’s not too obvious, I just know because—been in your shoes.”

You should be insulted that the teenager compares his and Sarah’s relationship with yours and Rafe’s, but you know he isn’t being malicious. You see nothing but kindness in his eyes. And it’s nice to have somewhat of a teammate in this situation, the two of you standing by while one of the most powerful families in Kildare poses together in their finest outfits.

Rafe looks hot in his grey suit, especially with the pocket square he’d agonized over for weeks before you gifted him one that was hand sewn from the extra material where your dress had been hemmed. Monogrammed, of course.

You’d decided to go with his initials, since it was going to him after all. But your stomach gets fluttery if you think about the expression on his face when he’d received it, telling you that you should’ve put yours on it instead. “That way everyone will know I’m yours.”

Turning back to John B, you can’t imagine how he must have felt the first time he was invited into all of this. It intimidated even you, and you’re pretty sure John B was friends with the boy who delivered your family’s groceries every week.

“Any tips?”

“You’re way better off than I was, first of all,” he laughs. “But he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one. He cares too much about this appearance of a perfect family to make digs in front of an audience.”

You nod. “That’s actually really good advice, John B.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, kook.” He clinks his glass against yours, promptly throwing the entire drink back as you watch and laugh. “That’s another tip. Drink whenever you can.”

“I’m familiar with that one.”

It's intimidating entering the event, a little after everyone else has arrived. Rafe told you that was by design—the Camerons could never be earlier than fashionably late. You always assumed you and Rafe were raised with similar pedigrees, but you're barely through the doors of the event before you realize that's not entirely true. Up until the last millisecond, Rose is fussing with Sarah and Wheezie's gowns, the older daughter making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes at her step-mother's antics. And Ward brushes Rafe's shoulders off more times than you can count, straightening his bow tie for him repeatedly. Rafe just places his hand on your back, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “You ready?”

You smile up at him, but your nerves are firmly settled in at this point. What you reply isn’t completely true. “Of course.”

—

You take John B’s advice, of course, and choose Kelce as your designated drinking buddy for the night. He was hard to keep up with, but you threw your inhibitions to the wind after you got meeting the Camerons out of the way. Plus, Rafe had more business to attend to than he’d let on, and you were getting pretty bored. Not too long ago he would’ve been right beside the rest of you, causing trouble and borderline embarrassing all of your parents. It was weird to see him walking around, shaking hands and rubbing elbows. He’d invited you into a few conversations, you trying your hardest not to simply watch him in awe.

You’re engaged in some strange dance battle with Kelce when he stacks his drink into yours, both empties at this point. “Your turn to get a round.”

“Boo,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “What d’you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“Aye aye.”

You’re turning on a shaky high heel, and you have to give yourself a little mental pep talk to straighten up. Of course you can, though.

“What can I get you, miss?” the barkeep asks.

“Vodka press, Tito’s, and a Jack and coke. Double Jack. Actually—single. Thanks,” you murmur, trying to fish a ten out of your clutch.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the tip for this one,” a voice says next to you. Ward Cameron is sidling up next to you, sliding a fifty across the counter. Your eyes widen at the tip, trying not to be embarrassed as the bartender sets the drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Ah, call me Ward.” He flicks his eyes back to the bartender, who quickly pockets the tip and makes himself scarce to give the two of you some privacy. You can’t help but think of John B’s warning: ‘he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one.’ There’s no point in even trying seek out Rafe, you knowing full well you’re expected to stay rooted to the spot until Ward dismisses you. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s always fun to come back out here for this.”

“So, California to Georgia,” he whistles. “That’s probably a five hour flight, at least.”

“Yeah, um,” you take a minute to make sure your flower crown is perfectly in place. “It’s actually two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two flights. From his school to mine. Rafe checked, he said there’s nothing direct,” you clarify.

Ward let’s out an indifferent chuckle. “Of course he did.”

Your eyebrow furrows because you don’t know what to say, turning to look at where your drinks are starting to melt. Kelce would be wondering where you are by now if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. And where the hell was Rafe?

“Y/n, as far as I can tell, you are a nice girl. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page about one thing.”

Your heartbeat that hadn’t really settled since Ward approached you is picking up again, and you really wish Rafe had been the least bit more concerned about where you were at this moment.

“Um, I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I'm don’t know how serious you two are, Y/n, but I know my son. He's clearly very invested in pursuing you.”

Your resolve crumbles a little at that, your heart warming, thinking about Ward noticing something like that.

“But Rafe needs to be committed to finishing this degree so he can come home and start learning the ropes next year. And in four years, Sarah will do the same. Then Louisa after her.”

“Wow, that’s so lucky for you—that they all want to go into the family business,” you praise, not really knowing what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, because Ward just quirks an eyebrow.

“In this family, our business will always come first. Before anything and anyone else. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

You swallow, catching on to where this is going for the first time. You still go for playing dumb.

“Ward, I really don't think I understand.”

“But you do, don't you? You know Rafe. He’s a bit emotional, he’s a ‘feeler,’” Ward says sarcastically, putting it in air quotes. All of the niceties you experienced earlier when you first greeted Rafe’s family were long gone. You can only gather that it was all an act for Rafe’s benefit. But you know the only option is to sit there and take it. “He thinks with his heart, never enough with his head. Sarah, for example—when it’s time for her to cut that pogue lose, which it will be soon enough, I know she will. Whether it’s my decision or her’s. I can count on that, because she’s just like me in that respect; she knows we have to make sacrifices. But Rafe—I don’t think I can make that same assumption about him.”

“Ward, with all due respect, Rafe is really focused on the business.”

“You're correct, and I’ve worked hard to get him there. Which is why I can't have him spending his senior year of college, when he should be buckled down, traveling back and forth from California and getting distracted from his future by some girl.”

“Mr. Cameron, I would never—”

“You know that it’s true. I can tell you’re bright. You come from a great family.” It’s a compliment and an insult all at once. He likes you because of your father’s business and your mother’s social status, not because of what you do for Rafe, or what you have to show for yourself. He continues like it was nothing but the highest praise. “But right now, you are across the country from him, and I can bet he’s determined to make that work, no matter what it takes. Which I obviously can’t have,” Ward sighs. “It’s just not the right time. You can understand that, can't you?”

You nod numbly and pick up your drinks, hoping he’ll get the signal to wrap this up soon. You’re at the point where you can’t listen to this anymore, liquid courage re-flooding your veins.

“I’m not asking you to stay away from him, because you’re both adults,” Ward says, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder. “But I’m asking you to think long and hard about what’s best for the both of you. Rafe already knows what’s expected of him. He’s always known.”

You look back towards the crowd under the gazebo, able to make out John B of all people. He sees you talking to Ward, shooting you the most subtle thumbs up he can muster. He has no idea. You don’t take the chance to nod at him, turning back to the bar.

“Say the two of you let it go for the school year,” Ward bulldozes, taking a step closer to you. “And you end up back here too, great. But even then Rafe’s going to be working all the time, the longest hours he ever will in his life. For the next few years, Y/n. You’re so young—are you really going to tie yourself down to a commitment like that? What about your future?”

In a tone you hope comes across as confident, you say, “I really appreciate your concern, Ward.”

Ward's perfectly white teeth are pulling into an even more perfect grin, and the sight makes you sick.

“Great. I'm glad we had this talk.” He pats you on the back, leaving first before you get the chance to.

You just shuffle through the crowd numbly, not even reacting when someone steps on your toe, taking it all in stride as you seek the comfort of your friends once again.

You were foolish to think Ward would warm up to you immediately, or at all. You had been way too confident in yourself, especially after witnessing the wear working for his father had on Rafe. ‘He’s not an easy man to please.’ How could you be so naive, thinking you could coast by on your charm?

You’re a few feet away when you notice that Topper had joined up with Kelce again, as had your boyfriend. He’s joking with them, amused at the way Topper is clearly almost done tolerating Kelce’s drunken antics, but you stand and watch for a bit as he scans the crowd, gaze flickering toward the bar you’d just been at. You realize he’s looking for you when he finally spots you, his face relaxing as the two of you make eye contact.

“There you are.” He pulls you in close, kissing your forehead. You want to cry. “Where’d you run off to? One of those for me?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks you’re holding, reaching for the darker of the two. But Kelce is swooping in, snatching it out of your hold quickly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’ “This one’s all mine. Sorry Cameron. Thanks Y/n/n.”

Rafe just rolls his eyes at the two of you, eyes lingering on your face when he notices your fallen expression. He sets your other drink down on the high top table you’re all standing next to, pulling you in by your hips. “You okay?”

If you had a choice right now, about how to proceed with telling or not telling Rafe about what had just happened, your instincts compel you to bypass the decision process altogether; you paint a careful smile on your face, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, all good. Just zoned out for a sec.”

He isn’t convinced. “Tired?”

“Maybe a little. Kinda drunk. Are we leaving soon?” you ask, melting into him. It’s a lot easier to handle his tone of voice when you don’t have to look him directly in the eye.

“I vote yes,” Topper says, gesturing towards Kelce, who is somehow sucking down his new drink at an alarming pace while continuing to dance to the oldies tunes they play at these things. “Like, right now. Rafe, you’re hanging back right?”

You look back up at your boyfriend in confusion. “You’re not coming with us?”

He bite his lip in contemplation, looking around the party. The twinkly lights reflect off of his pupils, making him look starry-eyed as he surveys the crowd. A sea of opportunities to prove himself to his father. Rafe looks resolved when he turns back to you.

“Well... I was gonna stay, wrap up some stuff,” he explains. His eyes flicker across your face, still not pleased with your expression. “But that’s okay, I’m good to go now.”

“No, Rafe,” you say immediately. You take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and painting on a smile that comes easily with years of experience at parties like this. “Stay, I’ll go ahead. How long will you be?”

“An hour, tops. Will you take her?” Rafe looks hesitant, still taking your green light anyway, already slowly extracting himself from your hold, Topper rolling his eyes but nodding and beginning to corral Kelce toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re making me babysit two of them.”

“Don’t let her drink too much.”

“Hey,” you protest, pushing him in his chest half heartedly. The push barely does anything, only proving your impaired motor skills further. Or that you're dating a tree. “What are you, a cop?”

“I’m your boyfriend, actually.”

“Really? When did that happen?” you decide to play along, picking up your drink again.

“‘Bout a month ago, Y/l/n,” he says softly. He can see right through you, can tell you're putting on a show for all of your friends but you're still not okay. You have to break eye contact.

“Hmm, for some reason I thought you were just this guy from middle school.”

“At least this time nobody spilled on your dress,” he teases half-heartedly, and the memory only hurts you more. “Not sure I’d wanna sacrifice this one.”

“Can you—you guys are the worst. Focus. We need to go now, before Kelce gets his entire family blacklisted from the club. You coming or not, Y/n/n?” Topper begs.

You’re nodding, leaning up to give Rafe one last kiss before you leave. He holds you close to him with a firm hand on your back, voice dropping to a whisper right next to your ear. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The lump in your throat is growing, but you push through, lowering yourself back down to your feet as soon as you can. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Focus on the rest of your night.”

Rafe still looks unsure, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as he kisses your forehead. “Y/n—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” you finally admit. Rafe nods curtly, can tell you’re not going to let him leave with you right now. But he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know that if you pull him away from his responsibilities right after that talk you had with Ward, it’s going to spell disaster for the two of you.

“Just some business stuff, alright?” he assures you. “I’ll see you soon. Forty-five minutes.”

“Promise?” you murmur, fiddling with his pocket square. He smiles down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Promise. You look so pretty. Half an hour. Now go.”

Topper’s guiding you towards the parking lot with a polite hand on your back, but you have to watch Rafe as you leave. You watch him approach his dad, who gives him a smile and a pat on the back. Rafe preens under his gaze.

But Ward must have been watching you two from afar because his gaze is flickering back to you, and he fixes you with a hard stare. He raises his eyebrows, bringing his drink to his lips. Taking a leisurely sip, hint of a smirk on his face. You can practically hear his thoughts: ‘Rafe chose to stay here with me, with the business, and sent you off with his friends.’ It’s everything in you to not let the tears that have been building on your waterline spill over. But your friend isn’t easily fooled.

“Y’alright, Y/n?” Topper says from beside you, trusting Kelce enough to walk on his own as you all near the parking lot. He moves to follow your gaze but you stop him, quickening your pace towards his gray Jeep. “Did something happen?”

“Ward Cameron happened.”

———

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids

#rafe cameron #rafe x y/n #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #she writes

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

If you’re comfortable writing this, can you write a part 2 of the cheating scenario on Diluc’s side where the reader thinks about what he said more after leaving and realizes he didn’t consent to what happened and they go back to him?

Of course!! I guess I ended up making him the more redeemable... i should mention the last part of that story was very much him trying to... well. the warning will tell you.

[[ WARNING: ANGST, MENTION OF SELF HARM, MENTION OF R@PE ]]

[[ Summary: After a mistake, one where he could barely think and essentially poisoned by alcohol... you realize, after some thought, that it wasn't so much he cheated, but he was... sick. Literally.

Part One Here

Word Count: 1'962 ]]

You had left him, in a fit of anger and pain and betrayal. He told you that he cheated, and while, a little later, you could commend him for telling you so bluntly, without any flowery extra dialogue or excuses, only the pure truth...

That doesn't change what happened. If it happened once, it'll happen again.

You sat alone, glad you hadn't taken him up on his offer to move in just yet... You had a few things over there, that you were probably never going to get back... but that was fine. Things could be replaced. Sadly, time couldn't be.

For awhile you just minded your own business, guiltily thinking over everything. Were you good enough? Is that why he cheated? Or were the two of you nothing?

You found yourself walking to the Angel's Share, wanting to see some old friends to talk to... just to feel a little better, but you froze as the door was open--What were you doing, walking right into his establishment that he often bartended...

No, but he wasn't here. Charles was sitting there, and he glanced at you, a look of... pain, perhaps? in his eye, but he said nothing, pouring a mug for some random man, who took it and walked off immediately.

You decided to just leave, without a single word. No one stopped you, but why would they?

That night, you instead went to the Cat's Tail, not touching a drop of alcohol, simply some non-alcoholic, but sugary sweet drinks as you pet the kitties, leaving for a few moments to get them some treats. It was a nice distraction, even if that fluffy red cat in the corner kept reminding you of Diluc...

Moving was sounding like a tempting option, but you'd give yourself a few more days at least before making a serious decision. Your heart was aching and tender, you needed at least a little time.

The next day, you went out, stocked up on food, and did nothing but hide inside from the rest of the world. The next, you didn't even leave, you just hid.

Finally, you decided to try Angel's Share. You weren't as familiar with the people in the Cat's Tail... and maybe Kaeya was there? He knew Diluc better than even you, and he could, maybe, give some outside insight... even if he hated your guts, he could at least shed some light onto the reality.

You dressed oddly, trying to hide from the world in a hood, head lowered. As you walked in, however, you realized this was unnecessary, as Charles was still working the counter.

You took your hood off, and sat at the bar, "Hey, Charles."

"Greetings," he said, having been putting something under the counter as you sat down, "What do you want?"

"Is Kaeya here?" You asked... he looked at you oddly.

"No, left in a rush. Some Knightly business." He probably knew more, he was a smart man who knew when to speak and when to seal his lips.

"... has, uhm," you felt like an idiot, but you wanted to ask, "Has Diluc been around? I haven't heard of anything about him lately." Not a total lie, there was always gossip about him. But--he sighed, and shook his head.

"No one in Mondstadt has seen him in a few days."

Your heart sunk--you aren't even entirely sure why.

"Some wonder if he died, and they're trying to figure what to do with the Winery," He looked at you oddly, "Some say he's sick," He began cleaning a glass, "Some say he's just left on some private business. But that's all I heard."

You knew that, just before... that night, there had been high-strung gossip about some drama, about how Diluc had caused issue with the Knights again ( something thrown drastically out of proportion ), and if there was sudden silence...

"Sorry for taking up your time, thank you, I remembered I have something to do," He just nodded as you pushed yourself up, rushing out of the building.

Charles just shook his head, knowing better to even mutter... someone always liked to listen.

...

"Master Diluc," Adelinde said, her voice soft, "Do you need anything."

"I'm fine." He said, weakly. His skin was pale, and he looked beyond just sick. Too much alcohol, even a glass caused him to spew blood, from his dramatic moment where he wanted to spew out his insides to stop breathing, it had taken a massive toll on his body.

However, he had done little to nothing, too weak to fight it. A broken heart plus physical damage was a battle seldom won. But, he would, somehow, even if another part of him died.

He knew better. After... after what had happened, the only other time he truly tried at intimacy ended to agonizingly, he shouldn't have tried a second time, but he did.

He would not try a third.

The door to his room opened, and Adelinde walked over, the sound of hushed whispers, before it clicked shut and she turned back to Diluc.

"You... have a visitor."

Diluc was silent.

"It's... them." Adelinde said, with no small degree of fear and worry, and for the first time, he pushed himself up--his head was reeling, flopping back onto the bed, his hand over his eye, groaning.

Blood loss did that.

"Did they," he inhaled, "Did they say what they wanted?"

"They said 'just to talk.'

He, much slower this time, shifted to sit up. "Have them sit in the main room and wait, I need a moment."

"Are you alright alone?" She asked, as though it was not the only thing he had asked for. His silence was enough to tell her, and she left the room, the door clicking behind her.

He got dressed--Tempted to wear his normal coat, but he opted for a simple outfit that looked decent enough. He was too tired for anything else. Finally, he got up, and walked slowly, wondering if he should have had you come straight in... but, no, he knew better to ask of that.

You were sitting, waiting and twiddling your thumbs, looking up as he walked by. You stood, but he sat down in a chair near to you, but giving you enough space that you'd have to stand up to reach him...

A tactical move.

You sat back down, trying to just get a little closer.

"I'm very tired," he said, "So please tell me what you need from me."

His words were harsh, he was not trying to send you away, to scare you off. He enjoyed, to a degree, seeing you close once again, but it was agony as well, ripping his heart in two. He would not prolong the conversation, but he would not force it to a halt.

Emotions were hard to endure.

"I-I just... I didn't hear anything about you recently." You were worried.

Were you afraid of having to live with the guilt of an unstable man?

"I'm sick, and weak, but fine. I've just been recovering."

You swallowed thickly, "May I ask what from?"

He hesitated, tugging at his sleeves, wishing he had put on a pair of gloves to fiddle with, "Alcohol reaction. It tore up my insides quite badly." He explained, "I'll be fine in a week or so."

... You knew it hurt him, but... this bad?

"That's... okay." You didn't know what to say... and finally sighed. "I want to... I didn't, I left too soon. I didn't... think about you at all, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I cheated, that's all there was."

If he was honest, he felt disgusted. He didn't... he didn't remember the face of the woman--was it even a woman? But he felt... awful, sick, torn up. Just like...

The first time.

He shuddered.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"I want to know what happened," you stated, half wanting to hope maybe it was a misunderstanding. If he had, while in his drunken, and admittedly air deprived state, kissed some woman and thought it was you... You could forgive that.

However, he just looked down.

"I..." he swallowed thickly, "I don't remember much. I was pressured into drinking alcohol, and I couldn't spit it all out."

"Who pressured you?"

"I don't remember. It was... some sort of tense situation. I think there was a man, and a woman, and she wouldn't drink it. It was... tense... I think I drank it. She was upset, and eventually ran off, I don't remember."

"... Was it drugged?"

Diluc's eyes widened for a moment.

"I," he struggled to think, "That may have been why I drank it, to... stop her from drinking it."

You were scared to hear the rest of the story.

"I drank it, Charles was there, and I went to the back. I don't-everything was fuzzy. Someone's mouth... on me, then they..."

There were tears in his eyes, and he wobbled a little in his seat.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't think I can keep speaking, it... hurts."

"It hurts?"

He nodded, tears on his face, with all the vulnerability of a young child who was scared and alone.

You weren't stupid.

"Did you... want it?" You asked, and he shook his head,

"No," he was choked up, openly crying as he tried to hide it, "No, no... I didn't."

You didn't care about this distance, standing up, gently resting your hand on his leg, and then holding him. He hugged you, but he felt so weak.

"I'm so sorry," You felt yourself tearing up--you had to be strong. Not only did something horrific happen to him, which he could scarcely speak of, but you had made it all worse by punishing him for it.

"I want to be there for you, I want to take care of you... I'm sorry, I fucked up. I understand if you're upset, or mad, and if you don't forgive me..."

Suddenly, and for only a moment, his hug had crushing force, pulling you closer.

"I just don't want to be alone."

"You won't be alone," you cooed, sweetly, "Do... you want to go to bed?"

He nodded, weakly whimpering, and you helped him to his feet, the two of you walking ahead to the bedroom--Not missing how badly he struggled. You knew his allergy to alcohol was bad, but this bad?

You made your way in, ignoring the harsh and confused looks of the staff, shutting the door behind you.

Everything looked the same as you left, and you helped him sit down, how he... slumped, weakly.

"Do you want to get undressed?"

Slowly, he nodded, and you started with his shirt, pulling it off, tossing it to the side, resolving to let the maids deal with it later... But, you froze, seeing bandages on his arms, you grabbing his hand and pulling it a little closer to you, looking at it.

"What happened?" You asked, and he was... quiet.

"I felt..." He was trying to think, and refused to look at you, "Unclean. I... In a moment, I... thought I could claw it off."

"... Is this why you're so weak."

Slowly, he nodded, and then looked up at you with the look of a puppy that was about to be punished, "Are you mad at me?" He asked, voice aquiver as he was about to cry.

Are you mad, you thought, yes, but only at whoever hurt you.

"No," you said, sitting down beside him, hugging him, feeling him lean his weight into you, "But I want you to look for help, someone who can help you."

He nodded, still weakly holding onto you.

"I didn't think it'd happen again."

Again. How horrifying a single word could be.

"You don't have to deal with it by yourself, this time."

#genshin impact #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader #angst #angsty bark #hurt and comfort #// thats a tag now #bark writes #???#fluffy bark #// for the end #// tossing in some other messed up hcs i also have but havent talked about

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huenjin · 4 years

Text

phobia.

pairing — bang chan x reader

word count — 2.7k words

ratings — 18+

genre — some slight fluff and smut, includes face sitting, cunnilingus.

note — this is the most domestic relationship thing i've written on this blog so far. lmao, i watched chan's room, ep.1 while writing this,,,and at this point, i'm just doing like an unofficial countdown to national boyfriend's day, of sorts, ha! d-3 and here we are. i haven't ever been this content writing for a boy group as much as skz. *cries in alien language*

You are snuggling against Chan, your head on his broad chest as he plays with your hair and your fingers casually and playfully tapping his chest in a rhythm, only to trail downwards slowly. He turns his head slightly to kiss the top of your head.

And just maybe you were horny. There's no other explanation to the hand of yours that slowly trickles its way down to place itself over your boyfriend's crotch.

"Y/N," his voice is laced with strain and you chuckle, kissing the side of your boyfriend's chin. "Don't—"

"But—"

"I mean, unless you intend to solve it after you cause it."

"What if I don't?"

"Sneaky little rat," Chan gasps and he wraps his arms tightly around you, snuggling you closer into him and you laugh.

It is in moments like these that your heart flutters, swells and then bursts with nothing but love for this man that you call yours in this moment. With eyes that sparkle like they can bear every single star in the galaxy and with arms that could possibly hold the whole world with the love he has, he still chooses to hold you close and keep you in his arms and call you his whole world. He chooses to rewrite the stars no matter what happens, all to keep you close to him.

"Do you want me to eat you out?"

He pushes you slightly away from him so that he can look at you as he asks. There's a lot more to the eyes that plead to you though, as if he needs something more secretly.

"Randomly?"

"It's not complete random," he mumbles and you sit up, your arms unwrapping from his physique. You stare at your boyfriend, expecting him to continue on his sudden proposal. And then he drops it.

"Sit on me."

"Huh?"

You are about to sit on top of him, hovering over his crotch when he holds your thigh, mid air, and you look at him, in confusion, "Chan?"

"On my face."

Your eyes widen and you drop you leg back onto the mattress. You're holding him tighter, staring at your boyfriend in surprise and more of a what-the-fuck look.

"You're kidding, right?"

Chan sits up slightly, his arms supporting his body weight up from behind. He bites his lower lips as he looks at you, "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"But Channie—"

"Why don't you give it a try? If you still don't like it, we could stop?"

And when your eyes show a flicker of hesitance, Chan lays back down again and pulls you forward. You cup his face and kiss him, holding his lower lips between yours as you try dragging it out for as long as possible. Chan holds you as you direct the kiss and he moans into you, before pulling back and mumbling, "You'd definitely be great at it."

You pull back and shimmy out of your shorts and panties, Chan's white shirt still on you. Your boyfriend looks at you in awe, like you're the literal sunshine in person and that he was nothing short of a blessed man on earth in this moment.

With unsure, wobbly steps, you crawl over to the side of Chan's face and sit on the back of your ankles as you look at him, "What if I'm too heavy?"

"You couldn't be heavy for me, baby," Chan laughs, and it's so light and soft that it eases you; that maybe, just maybe this would be a good experience. "You're the perfect size for me. You're like my other half. We are compatible. Remember, when you even got our horoscopes matched!"

"But that's a different thing! And my mother did that." You laugh at the memory. It was a year back when you asked Chan for his entire birth or natal chart and even though he persisted and asked you why you required it, you couldn't tell him till you had it, or more like your mother had it. She had been the mastermind behind the entire scheme. Chan learns of it later that day though — when your mother calls him when she couldn't reach through you.

And your mother being the ever jovial person she is, tells your boyfriend of how good the two of your marriage compatibility was. Chan had the best night of his life that day, laughing to you about it and how he'd marry you even if the compatibility had turned out to be crap.

Chan shakes his head and pulls at your thigh, "It's not now. You're my everything. My sun, my moon and my stars."

"You're sugarcoating your words to get me to sit on your face, aren't you?" You laugh, squinting your eyes in response at how adorable and desperate Chan looked at that minute.

Your boyfriend dramatically gasps, hand clutching his chest, hovering right over his heart as he closes his eyes and shakes his head, "How could you doubt my love, my darling," before bursting out into a fit of laughter and confessing, "Was it that obvious?"

"You're a drama queen." You hit his chest and he kisses your nose. "If it gets too overbearing, you'll tell me, right?"

"One hundred percent," he smiles and with that confidence, you lift your leg over his face and sit in such a way that your vulva was right in front of Chan's face, currently glistening from all the anticipation.

"God, you're beautiful," Chan mumbles to himself as he lifts his arms up slightly to grab your thighs, pulling it slightly closer to his face, leaving you like this — your knees dig into the pillow by the side of your boyfriend's face, your core hovering over his face so close that his breath on the skin by the side edges you, running a tingle down your spine.

"Come on, Y/N," he chuckles against your thigh, kissing it and laying out small kisses upwards. "You should know by now that you are not going to break me. Trust me." You look down at your boyfriend and you can't help but agree that it's the first time you're looking at Chan like this and he's still so beautiful.

"I know," you sigh, force downwards to your knee as you lower yourself slightly. Chan is still biting and kissing at your thighs, causing you to cream yourself slightly, embarassing you because he can clearly see it now. You bite down on your lips softly, and after much thought decide to reach out a hand to tangle into his hair.

Seemingly, this is all the encouragement and push your boyfriend needed because now Chan's hands lift themselves, hands on your hip before he pulls you down to come closer on to his face, knees digging into the pillow so much that Chan's face lifts up.

And then Chan's tongue is pressed flat against you. He slowly drags it against your slit, like a kitten with its soft licks and then proceeds to press a kiss to your clit when he gets to the top. You're breaking. You had such a strong conviction that you'd dislike this that you can't help but want to move your hip, to want more of his tongue — to want more of the wet muscle against your now sopping core.

Your legs relax just a bit and you willing push his face against his. Chan's face is still hurried into your core, head focussing on nothing but your pleasure. Chan licks another stripe before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking on it, loud noice of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly, just to test if it was alright. Turns out Chan loves it because he presses his head further back, hand moving downwards only to place them against your thighs to spread them apart slightly and to see how wet you are all because of him. You look down only to find Chan's eyes shut, lips chasing after your wet ones, tongue protruding out and small whines leaving him that does nothing but harness and comfort your dominant side.

You realise that Chan was still taking it slow, making sure you were comfortable with this and that you were enjoying every single bit of it. The more you let yourself relax and settled onto his face, the more his attention grew. And when Chan knew you were comfortable enough, he grips your hips, hands quickly snaking behind and pulls you further — unimaginably — down. His jaw opens wide and he draws his tongue up and down, lapping at your slit like it's an eternal drink. His warm muscle circles around your clit, causing you to shiver in his hold, chills send up your spine.

Your eyes close, the pleasure unimaginably good as you stretch your left hand to hold the bed post and the other tangles itself amongst Chan's hair roots, pulling it slightly everytime you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. Chan circles around your dripping hole, tongue teasingly poking and pressing in before it is gone again. Your hip gyrate against his face almost like it has a mind of its own. His nose nudges occasionally against your core and your mound that has you biting the insides of your mouth to suppress a large moan.

Chan keeps a rhythm as his tongue laps against your sopping lips, paying equal attention to every part that it send your receptors into snap, endorphins releasing slowly in the build up. His tongue takes in every bit of your wetness that you are left gasping, hips moving against his tongue and eyes squeezing, as your mouth left nothing but his name like a mantra.

Your thighs shake in the pleasure, torn between collapsing and embracing the feeling and you know, for sure, that had it not been for Chan's iron grip on your thighs. Not that Chan seemed too interested in being given the space for him to breathe with how eager he is to bring your hips closer to his face, barely giving him space to breathe.

Slowly and almost what seemed too short, it is all too much for you, the constant sucking and licking and feeling of his warmth against your dripping core. Chan's tongue finally slips into your core and before you really could grasp understanding of what exactly you were doing, you are here, grinding on his face, rocking between his nose pressed against your clit and his tongue buried as far as possible inside you.

Chan moans in ecstacy, his tongue feeling the pressure from your muscles tightening. The slight vibration is enough to slowly spiral you and draw out another loud moan from your dry throat and out through your coral lips. One of his hands grips your thigh, digging in his fingers and the other splays out flat on your back.

It's like all your misconception about this is thrown out through the window. You groan out loud, knuckles turning white as you grip on the bed post tightly as he worked against your slit, letting your hips move as they wished now, his grip on your hips a lot lighter. Your other hand in his hair switches between pulling and petting. You try to focus on the wall in front of you but your vision is all blurry in the slowly becoming euphoria. You can't help but let out small praises in between breaths, "You're a good, good boy," and "Fuck, look at how needy you are," and in all honesty, even you are surprised by the words that leave you. Though, all that does is get Chan more enthusiastic with each one, his tongue moving even more furiously against you.

Before you know it, the knot that built up seems to slowly tense up, close enough to snap and you know you are on the edge. You try desperately to form words though all you can roll from your tongue are desperate whines and moans and chants for Chan to fuck you up more. You pull on his hair, pulling him closer while grinding against him harder.

And then it snaps as you come, like a rope that is knotted so perfectly, pulled apart till you see the fibres so clearing straining away and breaking. You see the white as you close your eyes, the oxytocin rushing through and you are grinding on Chan's face further to ride it all out, your tongue rolling out the words, "Chan, oh my fuck!" over and over again. Your whole body shakes and your legs instinctively try to close though it just ends up pressed against Chan's face, not that he minded it one bit. Chan licks you out soft and slowly, helping you through your orgasm patiently and you want to cry at how blessed you truly are.

Chan keeps up the gentle attention until you finally decide to push his head back, hand off his hair and bedpost, lifting yourself slowly off his face. Or at least you tried and that should count. Your legs that desperately chooses not to cooperate, feeling sore and muscles strained. Chan laughs at you as you try to lift yourself off and he helps you, hand warm against your wet thighs as he lifts them over his face and to his side. You drop down, sliding against the mattress downwards and Chan coos, "Look at my baby."

“Fuck,” is all you can say, heart racing against your chest after one of the better orgasms ever and you close your eyes.

Chan pulls you closer into him, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead, lips lingering for more than a second. You finally open your eyes, only to lock gazes with your boyfriend and you smile, albeit a tired yet loving smile. Chan press his lips against your nose and tells you, "I'm one lucky man."

"Yes," you chortle, hugging your boyfriend tighter. "Yes, you are."

You take in the sight of Chan in all his glory. His jaw is slick, light hitting off them and making them glisten, cheeks flushed pink and his lips are pulled into a soft smile at you. His eyes don't leave yours for even a minute and they are filled with nothing but soft love coloured in pastel pink in your head. It makes your heart flutter against your ribs.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"More than I should," you sigh contently. You let yourself be swallowed by the beautiful sight before for just a moment longer, to remember every single bit of this in your head. “Now stop looking so sappy and proud.”

If anything, your comment only makes Chan's smile grow wider. Chan still holds you in his arms but he turns his head to look up at the ceiling, smiling so brightly like a dork. “I know I enjoyed it.”

And then, as if he knew you had your eyes trained on his, he sticks his tongue out, slowly dragging it against your wetness left as residues by his mouth. He licks it all up and then finishes it out by licking his lips and you hate that you find yourself clenching your thighs against each other. Why were you such a putty in his hands and to everything he does? Stupid boyfriend that knows he too hot for any good.

“Think I’ll get to do it again sometime?”

You laugh, kissing his cheek. “Maybe,” you say, smiling to yourself. "Who knows? Guess you'll have to wait and see how this pans out now, right?"

Chan looks at you, turning himself to snuggle into your warmth, wanting to be the smaller spoon suddenly. His head hurried against your chest, nose grazing the top of your breast, he closes his eyes, taking in your natural scent. Your hand finds itself on top of his head as you slowly pet his hair, pausing only when you hear him mumble against your skin.

"I've never minded waiting for you."

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corpsedaydream · 4 years

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Hi! I dont know if you write this, but can i request for angsty-fluff imagine for corpse? Maybe when you’re jealous? Thank u❤️ love ur writings

u ask for jealousy and angst, and i said hell fucking yeah

hope u enjoy!

word count: 1.6k

_________________________

it’s fine

Corpse was ever so charismatic. It was something about him that was impossible to deny. Even when he would get misjudged by people, thinking he may be this intimidating presence purely because of how he dressed and sounded, it would only take a few exchanges of sentences between him and a stranger for them to instantly change their mind and feel drawn to him, instead. You knew this better than anyone, after all, it had been one of the factors in what had made you fall for him so hard and so fast.

The only issue was that, sometimes, he could have the same effect on others and, sometimes, when you caught someone else clearly having some heart eyes for your man, that brought forth the little green monster inside of you. He was magnetic, and as happy as you were that the world was so intrigued by him and he was having all the success he deserved, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that wished that magnetic pull only worked on you.

It seemed there were certain days when Corpse managed to turn on this charismatic side of him even more so. Today had happened to be one of those days. It was good, because it was a day the two of you had planned to spend together. But when you went out to lunch and the server definitely let her hand rest on his arm a little too long and said things a little too flirtatious and hardly acknowledged your presence, you started to lose that good feeling.

You didn’t say anything about it, even though you kind of wished he would have figured that him giving the girl a back and forth was encouraging her more and upsetting you further. But you were determined to have a good day with your boyfriend, you didn’t want to start any drama with him.

He asked you if you were okay on the way back to his place, noticing you were being quiet. You told him you were and left it at that, even if you did want to say more.

Finally, in the safety of his home that was like a bubble in which was just for the two of you, you were feeling better. Quality time was your love language and his was physical touch, something you could both give each other with ease when there was no outside interruption. Between the little talks, the exploration of hands over each other, the giggles that turned into wiping tears of laughter from your face and shared kisses, you swore you could spend the rest of your life like this and be happy.

And then the bubble burst.

“Ah, shit, (Y/N).” He began, and the mood between you instantly changed.

“What?”

“They need a tenth player right now and no one else can get online.” He had promised that today was about you. And usually, you would be completely okay with him going and joining in on the streams, often you loved sitting by him and watching him get so invested in the games. Except lately, you’d been feeling at an arms length from him and you hated it. You wanted his undivided attention today.

“And?” You were being short with him, you wanted him to know you weren’t okay with this right now.

“It’ll just be a few games...”

You let out a huff and turned your head to the side, looking away from him. You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to tell him what to do, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, that you didn’t want him to play and wanted him to stay right here in this moment with you.

“You can come sit with me?” He spoke again as you remained silent, seemed as if he wasn’t figuring it out.

“Just go play. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.

Sitting on your own now, you felt bare without your limbs being all tangled with his beneath the blanket like they were earlier. You had tried to turn on the television to watch something, but everything on just seemed to annoy you.

With a sigh, you pressed your hands to your knees and stood up, walking towards Corpses gaming room. At first, you were going to walk in, giving in to the want that was craving to be by his side, but upon hearing a number of female voices, that jealousy appeared inside you again and you walked away.

It was slightly irrational, you knew these people were his friends, but today had really gotten to you.

At an attempt to distract yourself, you opened up Tik Tok, but all your for you page seemed to be was more girls wanting your boyfriend.

“Fucking hell.” You said out loud, closing the app and opening up Twitter next. But you should’ve known it would’ve been worse on there, Corpse seemed to be trending every day on that app, you told yourself you really should have known better for that one.

However, the next social media app click was deliberate. You knew that Corpse had been reposting stories of people using his song and you decided on treating yourself to some more sweet torture. And sure enough, his story was filled with more girls. Firing that jealousy and insecurity you had been feeling today even more.

“Fuck this.” You announced, standing to your feet and feeling tears of frustration build in your eyes.

Once you had finished gathering your belongings, you were just about to make an exit when that crazy thing of timing pulled a fast one on you as Corpse emerged from his gaming room.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you, spotting your hand gripping the handle on his front door.

Seeing him should’ve made you feel better, but it only caused more tears to well up, so you quickly looked away from him.

“I’m going home.”

“What-no, why?” He came closer to you then and you turned more towards the door.

“Because you obviously don’t want me here.”

“What the fuck? (Y/N), of course I do. What are you even saying right now?” He was by your side now, grabbing your hand from the handle and holding it in his. His other went up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to face him and that’s when he saw the glaze of tears in your eyes. “Hey, baby,” Worry sparked up in him. “You’re upset...” He stated the obvious and you shook your head out of his grip, directing your vision to the ground.

You thought he might create some distance between you both when you did that, but instead, he did the opposite. He pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapping snugly around your waist and his other hand resting on the back of your head to encourage you against him.

“Don’t, I’m going.” You spoke, but your words were meek, you didn’t actually want to leave and he knew that.

“No. You’re not.” He argued back, his arms pulling you in even closer. “I want you here.” He told you and that’s what made you snap.

“No you don’t!” Your voice got louder, matching the movements of you bracing your arms against him and pushing him back, breaking the human contact. He was in shock, watching you with cautious eyes. “If you did, you would’ve spent time with me and only me today. You wouldn’t have left me alone!” You became more emotional as you spoke, a few tears managing to spill onto your cheeks.

“Baby-”

“No!” You cut him off. “Don’t ‘baby’ me right now.” You took a moment to wipe under your eyes before continuing because you knew this next admission would cause you some more tears. “You know how hard it is to compete it with every other girl who’s all about you right now? They’re everywhere, and they’re all so fucking beautiful. I know you see them, I’m not them, Corpse.” Your voice broke into a sob as his name left your lips and he felt his heart break to see you in that state.

He wasn’t sure if you still needed space, but he couldn’t stand in front of you while you cried and not do anything. So instead, he once again brought his arms around you, but this time he scooped you up, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips so he could carry you.

You continued to cry against his neck as he walked the both of you to his room and when he placed you down onto his bed, he was instantly beside you, cradling you against him.

“I need you to listen me,” He began once you had started to calm down, he wanted to make sure you paid attention. “You are so important to me. So fucking important to me, (Y/N).” His eyes were boring into yours and he brought his hand up to wipe the wetness from your cheeks before continuing. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.” He was speaking with force, but it wasn’t aggressive, he was wanting to make sure that you really understood the depth to his words.

“It’s just, everyone seems to want you and I’m just-”

“Don’t you dare put yourself down.” Corpse cut you off before you could finish. For a moment, he pressed his lips to your forehead before moving his face back so he could look at you again. “I only want you. You’re it for me, baby.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“With my whole fucking heart.”

“I love you, I really love you.” You told him, your emotions were still running high, but you were feeling a whole lot better.

“I love you, too.”

#corpse husband #corpse imagine #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #writing #mine #request #okay its almost 3am and wew i just finished this #not doing tag list rn im too tired #ill self reblog and do it when i wake up #Anonymous #answered #1k

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