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janumun · 3 years

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The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]

Game: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 2.5k

Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation

Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.

Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]

If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.

A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.

Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.

Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.

He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.

Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].

He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.

Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.

Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.

He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.

Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.

He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.

“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.

He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.

Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.

After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.

Stockings might be one of his favorite products.

The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.

“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.

Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.

Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—

He’s on you so fast.

“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.

He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.

In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.

Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.

At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.

“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.

Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.

And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.

“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”

Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, “What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(Read: S)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

#ikesen motonari #ikemen sengoku motonari #ikesen mouri motonari #ikesen motonari smut #ikesen smut #ikemen sengoku smut #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen motonari x reader #ns//fw text #a pickle writes

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

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Seeing Him For the First Time Again

In which Geralt, when waking up after tonsil removal surgery, suffers from temporary memory loss. The stunning stranger at his bedside claims that they're married. Geralt has trouble wrapping his head around it.

A little addition to the Singer and the Sailor series, but can be read as a stand-alone. Inspired by this video. Also available on AO3.

There’s a cacophony of sounds around him but he doesn’t fully process the noise. He only knows that he’s had tonsil removal surgery. His throat sure hurts like it. His head is heavy, his mind fuzzy, it’s all wrong. He wants it to stop.

His thoughts go directly to his mouth as he mumbles, “I need medicine.”

From the right, there comes a beautiful, mellifluous voice.

“They’re bringing you some,” it says.

Startled, Geralt looks to where the words came from and –

His breath hitches in his throat and his heart skips a beat; there, right at his bedside, sits a vision.

The man is not just a man. He must be an elf, or a fae, or some other inhuman being. His face is straight out of a fairytale, and his eyes are so wide and blue. He could be an angel, with those eyes, but his body – strong neck, broad shoulders, chest hair – invites Geralt to sin.

Why would someone like this be here, watching over him?

“Did the doctors send you?” he wonders. With mouth-to-brain filter absent, he adds, “You’re eye candy.”

The otherworldly creature laughs – which is such a gorgeous melody – but god, his smile. His smile is the Sun itself.

“Wow,” Geralt breathes out. “You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank goodness Yenna isn’t here,” the guy replies, grinning. “You’d say that to her instead if she were.”

“Yenna?” Geralt echoes. The name feels familiar on his tongue for some reason. “Yenna... Yenn... Yen...”

“Yes, Yen,” the stunning stranger chimes in. “She’s visiting you with Ciri later.”

He’s somehow sure that he knows Ciri too. The next moment, he realises that Ciri and Yen are important. He feels it down to his very bones. Why? That escapes him, even though -

This train of thought is cut off by a snicker. Geralt looks at his bedside angel once more. The surreal man is holding... something, in one of his hands. It’s a really beautiful hand, as if an artist carved it from marble. The whole of him is like an artwork. He must be widely admired, with such compelling facial features and those eyes.

“Are you a model?”

“No,” the stranger denies.

That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s so pretty. He’s pretty like a... like... somebody. He’s certainly someone. Geralt needs to get to know him.

“Who are you?” he asks. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Jaskier,” the man introduces himself. “I’m your husband.”

“You’re my husband?!” Geralt gasps in shock, not believing his ears.

“Yeah,” the model-but-not-a-model – Jaskier, yes, that name suits him – confirms.

“Holy fuck!” he exclaims, smiling, his chest fit to burst with joy.

Jaskier chuckles so beautifully again and Geralt closes his eyes, savouring the sound. Then, a wave of nausea hits him and he can’t really focus on anything. When it passes, Geralt turns his head back to the vision at his right. His husband. That’s so incredible. And serious. They could be parents, even.

“Do we have children?”

“Depending on how you look at it,” Jaskier explains, “We have between zero to two kids.”

Geralt frowns, dumbstruck. How do you have between zero to two children with someone? He’s quite sure that having children with someone doesn’t work like that. Having children starts with... kissing... and then... Wait.

“Have we kissed yet?” he asks.

Jaskier throws his head back, laughing with his whole body. Geralt’s breath is taken away again.

“We’ve kissed a lot, darling,” Jaskier answers.

“Is that what we call each other? Darling?”

“We call each other many names, dearest.”

Suddenly, there’re many thoughts at once running through his mind. Something about “Lead me, dearest”, sirens and sea. Yes, sea, he knows that too. He knows that he knows many things; he isn’t young. But since when has he got a husband?

“How long have we been married?”

“Three years,” Jaskier replies, smiling warmly.

“Fuck yeah, I hit the jackpot!” Geralt cries triumphantly.

Jaskier is his husband. He’s his. His to love, his to touch –

“Let me see your face,” Geralt says as he reaches out to cup Jaskier’s cheek. Turning his husband’s head to the side, he gushes, “Your profile is perfect!” Then, he loses the strength to touch Jaskier, but that’s all right. He has another idea. “Turn around.”

“No,” Jaskier objects with a delighted giggle.

Geralt pouts. He just wants to see if Jaskier’s ass is as perfect as the rest of him. Not that he doubts it. Wouldn’t hurt to check, is all. Checking up facts is good.

“We’re married!” he repeats with wonder and his husband nods. “Oh fuck.”

Jaskier only laughs again and tells him to settle down. Geralt, being a good husband to his surprise husband, listens. Still confused as to how he got so lucky but overjoyed at the fact nevertheless, he drifts off to sleep.

***

Later, as the anaesthesia starts wearing off, Geralt’s memory returns, dispersing his confusion. Slowly, all the pieces fall into place:

Jaskier is not a model, but a well-known singer, who Ciri was a fan of as a teenager.

Jaskier and Geralt got together after they pretended to be engaged and actually pulled it off. They have been together for six years now.

Geralt and Jaskier call each other a sailor and a siren. “Lead me, dearest, to the coast of tomorrow” is engraved on the inside of their wedding rings.

Technically, they don’t have children together. Geralt has Ciri with Yennefer. Jaskier is Dara’s guardian. Yet, Ciri and Dara are inseparable like siblings, and Jaskier and Geralt treat them as such.

Jaskier and Geralt also have a dog and a boat. Both are of the same name.

As a retired Royal Navy commander, Geralt finally has enough time to cherish his family. He often takes care of his nephew - Eskel and Essi’s son - Nao. He does that especially when Eskel is deployed, just like Eskel used to help him with Ciri. Lambert and Aiden help Essi too. So do Yennefer and Triss. And Jaskier and his sisters with their families. Plus Ciri and Dara. And Vesemir. Jaskier’s parents as well. Really, Nao, at two-and-a-half, might already be the most spoiled child in the world. Not that he minds. He loves the attention nearly as much as he loves Jaskier’s niece, Zofia. Zofia and Nao are so adorably taken with each other that no one can quite handle it.

All in all, Geralt’s life is just so good.

“I really did hit the jackpot,” he says after they return from the hospital.

“No, my heart,” Jaskier replies, “I did.”

Then, they kiss, and the anaesthesia incident is happily forgotten.

Or so it should have been.

The reality is this: at a family gathering a week later, it turns out that Jaskier recorded the whole thing. He shows the video to everyone. Geralt has never been simultaneously laughed at and called “precious” so much in his whole life. In fact, he never wants to hear the word “precious” spoken in his vicinity ever again.

More or less fleeing this predicament, Geralt takes Roach (the dog) and goes to hide on Roach (the boat) for solid three days. He wants to stay there longer, he tries to be mad, but then Jaskier appears with an apology song.

Geralt thinks to himself he’s a rather shitty sailor, unable to resist a siren’s call.

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au

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tofumedic · 3 years

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Interacting w/ Levi (GN!MC)

summary: levi stops masking how he acts when hes with you as he gets more comfortable and learning youre his henry and therefore safe. this mainly surrounding just levi and his actions

(alt. i am promoting autistic leviathan agenda ive claimed him n also so did u just in a general way when u made the pact as in hes urs now<3)

Levi didn't mean to at first but he infodumps to you, you just hinted about something he liked like TSL and he was gone.

Since it is at the beginning of you two interacting probably pre-pact he back pedals even when you try to ask questions to promote his behavior, to let him know it's okay

He's been through a lot, not being given the time of day before he doesn't trust you wanting to know more so he will quiz you

If you don't know the answer then he is quick to shut you out again, strike one of being vulnerable but..

If you get something right? Or say you're not sure and ask him to repeat saying you understood key words yet not understanding others, he's embarrassed

There will be no in-between

He can't believe that you actually listened? Why would you do that are you planning to get close to him for something? Some long term prank? He's suspicious, picking at small scabs or at his nails.

However in that scenario, he will do his best to continue and go over parts he rushed over in his mouth trying to keep up with his brain so excited at the prospect. Now it is stumbling and stuttered being melted down in language with small "uh" or "ums"

A way to help him feel safer or more comfortable talking so much about his own interests and things that are only really important to him without him feeling guilty is to let him know about stuff you like too, he tries to mirror you and ask questions too or relating it to something he knows

He will look it up when you're not around or even during conversation, too nervous to look at you while you're happily talking about your own interests, wanting to see a creature you're talking about or help find this lore bit you couldn't remember the words to

He starts remembering about yours, always seeking out to find stuff you'll like as a gift or to see as a post

Levi also has anxiety tics, he doesn't like going outside in crowded venues or stores because he doesn't want to "get a chill" and have another demon just give him that look

Help him be comfortable about it, not asking or doting on it. He wants to be normal but if you do ask as they get more frequent he would most likely enjoy calling it something else so he doesn't feel that negative tie to the phrases he's received in schooling or from his brothers

"Levi, are you glitching again?"

"Just some lag, I'm okay, sorry"

He does have some verbal ones like different small disgruntled noises or phrases, you'll get them sometimes when you reach to touch him and he's not ready and is quick to apologize and urge you to continue he doesn't want to chase you away unless he actually needs the space

More excitable maybe on late night calls while he's gaming he will get tics often after getting really happy, these he doesn't apologize for but still brushes off. They may be his favorite purely due to the relation of how they're triggered

Oh and his stims???????

He is so excited to have your company, hands shaking or when you call his name or give him praise?

Something about one of his main sources of happiness being happy at him? He stomps, not aggressively or rude but quiet and rushed settling his feet down quick

You made a funny joke or laugh- like genuinely completely and fully laugh at one of his jokes? He will do a small spin in his spot if he's standing up, he can't quite express otherwise his joy!

He would also have the small stress plushies that come in mystery boxes or figures close by that have a nice texture he loves the grooves of this one Ruri-chan's petticoat? It's his favorite

He likes small things as comfort objects, sometimes losing them but unable to focus until they've been found and made safe

He has this bracelet from you that has beads and is themed in the colors of Henry (yours being themed in the Lord of Shadow's) and he wears it all the time except in the shower or doing chores, he doesn't want to ruin it but it keeps him safe just like his headphones

He hates some textures, passionately. It makes him worried to go on dates with you to get stuff to eat even if you're ordering to eat in his room, he wants to try new stuff or stuff you like but he doesn't want to be rude if he has to spit it out

And personally??? Just looks like the kind of person to hate the sound of paper tearing and when kids would scratch the plastic 3D material on books that made the images move? Also not a fan of feeling of windbreaker materials for clothing for example? It's detestable, it's "extremely unfair" that the new merch for Underwatch is a cosplay jacket of his main but in that texture >:/

#im sorry if these seemed rushed or have misspellings im dying my hair rn aa;;#i just project a lot #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #tofus blurbs!#send me asks about this or msg me and i will tell you about what personal experiences fueled these #like seriously #for realsies even

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose.

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas.

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones.

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him.

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too.

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him.

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders.

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation.

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement.

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped.

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be.

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits.

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!”

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined.

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you.

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet.

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees.

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see.

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you.

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room.

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars.

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal.

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas.

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more.

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you.

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips.

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you.

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

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The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requests are open ! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

#John Wick imagine #John Wick x reader #john wick oneshot #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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kim-ruzek · 3 years

Text

life's strange sense of humour

Summary: Kim, Hailey, Sylvie and Stella all conceive their babies around the same time... Then also go into labour on the same day. Pure Crack, but taken seriously because this is me.

Or; a love letter to the upgess friendship because they went funny fic? Nah, we're gonna make it wholesome.

Warnings: Childbirth, I guess.

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on AO3

Notes: So. I had this funny thought months ago, recently talked about it with Cíara when they mentioned something similar and I'm having Thoughts about how I want the upgess friendship to go so apparently my mind went yes, write this, please.

Also Cíara: it's not the child number we decided and not the exact circumstances but I couldn't help but make burzek's conception happen this way 👀

Life, Kim has learned, can have a strange sense of humour sometimes.

This, she thinks to herself as her and Hailey stare, open mouthed, speechless, shocked at each other, is definitely one of those times.

“I... What?.. I,” Hailey stumbles out, her eyes wide, Kim staring back with equally wide eyes, watching as the blonde tries to process this, tries to process how they even happened—all while wondering herself what the chances of this happening are, that this can only be because life has a strange taste in what’s funny.

“This—this isn’t right, right? Kim, right?” Hailey almost looks desperate at her, glancing down at the stick in her hand and back up at Kim frantically, her eyes darting as she does so, gliding over the pink positive line like if she doesn’t focus on it, it won’t be there.

“Well, I kinda hope it is,” Kim lets out a dry kind of laugh as she answers, glancing at her own stick, with a matching pink line. “Since we brought these together and I—I want to be pregnant.”

The panic lessens briefly in Hailey’s eyes, her friend smiling again at Kim’s own shock. “Right, yeah. And you want to be pregnant—so no more freaking out, yeah?”

Hailey grabs Kim’s hand with her spare one, giving it a supportive squeeze. “No more freaking out, this is good.”

Kim smiles back at her friend, the hand holding her stick drifting over her flat stomach. Her earlier worries—about if she can do this, if she could handle being pregnant again—still clinging to her but not making her feel as sick, the joy and excitement at being pregnant, at having Adam’s baby in her again, flooding her stronger. She repeats her friend’s words in her mind; this is good.

“But like—yours could be right, and mine wrong? Right? Like that could happen? I mean— people get false positives. This, mine, it could be false?” Hailey has gone back to freaking out. Kim places her stick down so that she can run her hands down the blonde’s arms, calming her.

“Hailey, breathe. Everything is okay.” Kim pauses, letting Hailey breathe in and out before continuing. “It could be a false positive—it could also be real. But it’s okay, it’s not a crisis if it is real. Have you and Jay discussed kids?”

Hailey smiles momentarily at the mention of her husband, her hand twisting the wedding ring on her finger before answering Kim. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course we have. A few times—before we were even together, even. Not that we were planning it together—well, not out loud—”

“Hailey.” Kim cuts off her rambling. There’s not many times that the blonde rambles, even when she’s panicking, she keeps a—seemingly—calm head. But when she does, she can really start to spiral.

“Sorry.” Hailey stops, running a hand through her hair, the other still clinging to the stick, almost as if she can’t put it down, like the thought is something incredibly out there and impossible.

“What have you discussed? Do you two want kids?” Kim gently probes.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Another short-lived smile. “But not—not now. It’s still, it’s something in the future. And we still weren’t fully decided if we��d do it this way, like I always wanted to adopt but I know, I know it’s not a walk in the park and we’ve been talking. I’ve been wondering if it was just because of the fear of my genes and I. We agreed we’ll leave it for a bit, but that’s gone out the window.”

Hailey pauses, running her hand through her hair again, before groaning. “Kim, tell me, what should I do?”

Kim gently holds both of her hands, closing Hailey’s fist around the stick. “You talk to Jay.”

That seems to calm the blonde, Hailey getting a soft smile on her face—the face Kim has dubbed her Jay smile. “Yeah. I talk to Jay.”

“Okay. Can we leave now—I think if we’re any longer Adam might just walk in. You know he has no patience,” Kim looks at Hailey’s expression carefully, noting every part of it, making sure that her friend is good enough to get through the rest of the day.

“Yeah. Yes.” Hailey nods, pulling Kim into a hug. “Thanks, Kim. And congratulations, again. This is really great.”

Kim squeezes her back, looking forward to when she might—maybe—be able to say it back to Hailey.

The day had started with Kim throwing up in the toilet. She had been feeling nauseous for a few days, going in waves, and that feeling—that thought that it might be because she’s pregnant and not because it’s flu season—had been in the back of her mind.

She had tried not to focus on that thought too much, not wanting to go down that path, not when it could just be a bug. Not wanting to give herself hope, only to get it taken from her.

Kim had rationalised it, even the throwing up. It was a minute amount, nothing compared to when she was pregnant the first time. Adam had a food related bug the other day, so this could just be that, Kim had told herself. Things tend to hit her a bit slower, after all.

And then there’s that Sylvie has a stomach bug—one that’s kept her in bed all week, texting Kim often to complain when Matt is on shift. And Kim had hung out with Sylvie the day before she fell ill. This, Kim told herself, is probably just it affecting her, now, too.

This day was the first time she threw up, and so was the first time she told Adam she’s been feeling nauseous. His reaction was exactly how she predicted it would be.

He had lifted an eyebrow, pausing as he sipped his coffee. “Are you... Do you think..?”

Adam had asked it very casually, his expression neutral. Like her, he was unable to say the words, finish the sentence, neither one of them wanting to voice the possibility, not wanting to voice it in case it’s not, not wanting the hurt associated with false hope.

“I don’t know. It’s probably a bug.” Kim had answered and he had hummed in response. A part of her wished that she wouldn’t tell him this, that she wouldn’t be having this conversation with him when it’s just a thought and not even, really, much of a possibility.

But communication is important, a lesson she had learnt many times before—that in the long run, it does more than doesn’t. And it’s not good for her, for herself, to keep these thoughts locked up only in her brain. Especially when having more kids is something they want.

It’s not like they’re actively trying. Kim’s only just come off birth control, and the doctor warned them it takes a while for her body to adjust. They had even been using condoms, occasionally, as it makes the clean up easier in their busy lives.

That had been all they had said to each other, then, needing to get Makayla ready and to school, before heading to work themselves. But it was only a few hours later, when another wave of nausea had washed over her while Adam and her were in the break room that she had stopped them making the coffee, grabbing at Adam’s arm.

“I should get a test.” Kim had told him, murmuring, but her urgency clear. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until she knew if she was or not, the thoughts in her mind almost distracting her.

“Okay. Now? We can say we’re going to see a CI?” Adam immediately got his game face on, and that’s when she had started to panic. About what if she is pregnant, about if she’s ready to be pregnant again, about if she can handle it.

Suddenly, the thought of simply peeing on a stick seemed impossible.

Hailey had entered the break room, then, and had took on look at Kim’s panicked expression and Adam trying to calm her to know that something was up. It only took one look between her and Adam, after Hailey asked if she was okay, for them to fill in Hailey, needing another voice to help them through this.

“Hey, calm down.” Hailey had said in that way of hers. “It’ll be okay and there’s no point panicking until you know—and here. If it’s too much to pee alone, I’ll take one with you. Moral support.”

It was an insane idea, Adam staring at Hailey incredulously. But it clicked in Kim’s brain, and she found herself saying yes before she knew what she was doing.

They had used the CI lie instead, telling Voight they were going to see one of Hailey’s. Kim had watched as Hailey tried not to focus on Jay’s eyes following them out the bullpen, not wanting to let him know there was anything more to it—good, considering.

The journey there and back was filled with Kim’s nervous ramblings to Hailey, as she voiced her fears and worries about this, the blonde just listening patiently and giving her comfort and support when she needed it.

They had taken the tests in the district ladies room, Adam waiting outside—probably shooing away anyone else. Which, Kim had thought, probably means Trudy will have a theory to her being pregnant before the day is up.

“It’ll be alright, Kim.” Hailey had reassured her as they waited those long two minutes. Hailey had gotten out her phone, had set a timer for them and even though Kim could see the seconds counting down, it felt like eternity.

“I can’t. Can you look at it?” Kim had asked after the minutes were up, unable to look at the stick, feeling quite like her heart was in her throat. Hailey had rolled her eyes good-naturedly, before telling Kim that she will.

The excited yelp that left Hailey’s mouth almost instantly after told Kim all she needed to know and Kim turned the stick to look at it herself, and seeing that amazing pink line.

“I’m pregnant! Hailey, I’m pregnant!” Kim couldn’t help her own excitement, throwing her arms around the blonde, squeezing her into a hug.

“Oomph,” Hailey clearly hadn’t been prepared for that, lifting her arms weirdly at the sudden brunette weight barrelled into her and that’s when Kim saw it.

Hailey’s own stick.

Hailey’s own stick, with her own pink line.

“Hailey!” Kim gasped before she can stop it, squeaking out her friend’s name. Hailey pulled back from the hug, frowning at Kim.

“What?”

“Your...” Kim couldn’t finish the sentence, instead she pointed at the stick and watched as Hailey looked down at it, watching the comprehension and then shock over take her face.

It’s a few days later, and Kim is sitting in Molly’s. Sylvie has gotten over her bug and immediately organised a girl’s night out. Not that Kim or Hailey will be drinking—a shame, since Sylvie had told them that she and Stella had some exciting news.

The day after the found out, Hailey had come into work and whispered into Kim’s ear that everything was okay. That her and Jay decided that this is unexpected but welcome, and they had a doctor’s appointment to confirm it.

Very little people know yet. Kim has been to the doctor, the doctor confirming she is ten weeks along. They told Kevin almost immediately, Trudy—as Kim guessed—had yet again figured it out and of course Hailey knows, alongside Jay.

They told Voight, just so Kim could explain why she doesn’t want to go out in the field—can’t, really, her pregnancy being somewhat of a high risk—although she’s waiting until Monday to officially disclose.

This weekend Adam and her have plans to tell Makayla, something she’s quite excited too, knowing how much her daughter wants to be a big sister, having been begging them for a baby for months—well, that or a puppy.

Hailey and Jay have only told, obviously her and Adam, and Will. They’re waiting until after today—the day of their doctor’s appointment—before disclosing and Kim and Hailey had a conversation about announcing it to their mutual friends, deciding it might be nice to do it together. Of course, it depends on how along Hailey is.

“Hey,” Hailey slips into the booth next to her and Kim smiles in greeting to her friend.

“Hey. How did the appointment go?” Kim asks, knowing once Sylvie and Stella gets here they won’t be able to discuss the pregnancies.

“Great,” Hailey practically beams. “We heard the heartbeat! Jay cried.”

Kim laughs slightly. “So did Adam. I mean, so did I, but I cry at everything.”

At that, Hailey laughs too. “Kim, so does Adam. Not like you—but I wouldn’t say he’s not a crier. Jay—I’ve seen him cry, but, man, it was. It just hit me, this is the father of my baby. And it made me more happy then I think the heartbeat did. We were both raised by a men who never be seen crying but our baby isn’t going to have that. It was...it was wonderful.”

“I’m so happy for you. Congratulations,” Kim pulls her into a hug before quickly adding on, checking to see if Sylvie and Stella had arrived yet. “So come on, quick. How far along are you?”

At that, Hailey excitedly grabs her arms. “Yes! How could I forget! Kim, you’ll never guess—I’m also ten weeks along!”

Life, Kim thinks again, really does have a strange sense of humour.

A thought she once again thinks when Stella and Sylvie arrive and they make their announcement.

“We’re pregnant. Both of us.” They announce and Kim’s mouth drops open, and she realises they all ordered water instead of alcohol. She barely knows how to process this, Hailey squeezing her hand in shock under the table, but before she can, they’re dropping the next bombshell.

“Stella found out about a week or so ago, I found out earlier this week when I kept throwing up. We’re both around ten weeks,” Sylvie continues.

“No fucking way.” The words drop out of Hailey’s mouth, and judging by the way she gasps, holding her hands across her mouth, Kim guesses she didn’t mean them too. Kim tries to calm her down, widening her eyes at the blonde, but the other two catch on to that there’s something going on.

Kim sighs, after Hailey gives her the go ahead. “Hailey and I—we’re also pregnant. Ten weeks.”

Life has a strange sense of humour.

Kim doesn’t think there’s any mutual acquaintance in their lives who doesn’t somewhat doubt that the four couples didn’t plan this. If Kim wasn’t living through it, she’d scarcely believe it herself. Especially when they narrowed it down and are pretty sure all four pregnancies are the result of a faulty condom—condoms taken from Kelly’s infamous bathroom supply.

Kelly and Stella are self explanatory. They hadn’t used them in a while, but Stella was changing birth control and so they did. Matt and Sylvie a little bit less, but still less incredulous. Matt doesn’t live with Kelly and Stella anymore, but the guestroom—now a nursery—was still open to them any time, the boys having slight separation issues. And apparently when they did this, they’d just use Kelly’s supply.

Jay and Hailey had apparently ran out, and they hadn’t gotten more before Stella and Kelly hosted a night at theirs and Jay had apparently thought grabbing a handful from the supply would be a good idea. Hailey almost questioned her choice in man then, not that Kim could judge her.

Because on that same night, Adam and her were getting a little too flirty and when they realised they were feeling a little loud than they can be, with Makayla sleeping at home, they, in their wisdom, decided why not do it in Adam’s jeep.

And they didn’t have any protection, naturally, on them so Adam had grabbed a condom for Kelly’s supply.

And thus, all four pregnancies were made.

There are benefits, however, Kim would happily admit. Voight, maybe not, depending he’s down two members and another two when there’s doctor appointments. And with them being due around the same time, they’ll be a month he’s down all four, give and take. The unit—especially Kevin—might also not, especially on the days her and Hailey’s hormones and cravings and hated smells conflicted.

But there are benefits. Having your three close friends going through the same things is nice, especially when they could see if a symptom or something is usual—especially when one of the friends is a paramedic and the other’s brother in law is a doctor.

It also makes it more fun, all of them—the men included—having a light hearted race about who’s bump shows first, who kicks and moves first and so forth. It made the pregnancies that little bit more fun, even when it was miserable, even when doubts and anxieties about the upcoming parenthood loomed.

The biggest race, especially as the pregnancies drew closer to the end, was the competition and bets who will go into labour first, who will have their baby before the other.

But, of course, life has a strange sense of humour so, naturally, they all went into labour on the same day.

Stella had technically started the night before, her contractions beginning then. They were far and few in between so she was advised just to wait.

Kim’s had started earlier that morning. She had been woken up at the crack of dawn with back pain. Nothing too unusual at this stage of the pregnancy, but as Adam was helping Makayla pack her lunch for school, Kim’s waters had broke.

When Adam and her had gotten to the hospital, about to update the group chat, they had passed Stella and Kelly and the high five they had shared had raised some nurses eyebrows.

Childbirth being the thing that it is, they didn’t look at the group chat after that. Kim’s contractions were starting to come more frequently, and Adam had left the room to holler at the doctor—only to run into Will. Will, who raised his eyebrow at Adam, and asked if he was here for Hailey and Jay.

Because the one thing Voight joked better not happen, that he can’t be down four members, plus a fifth and the desk sergeant as they were determined to meet Kim and Adam’s second daughter as soon as possible, had happened and Hailey had gone into labour around midday.

Flora Leslie Severide is born first, at seven point six pounds. Her godparents had plans to meet her first, but they had got laid up with their own new arrival so the man who had been like a father to both her parents and his wife met her first.

Alice Trudy Burgess Ruzek is born second, at eight point seven pounds, a weight that got her father nearly cursed at. Her older sister was the first to meet her, shortly followed by their grandmother Trudy and godfather Kevin.

If you were to ask Kim who’s kid would come next, she would’ve guessed the Halstead’s son, but it wasn’t. Sylvie had gone into labour later than the others, but had a much faster labour, her daughter being determined to be born quickly, apparently.

And so, Estelle Kelly Casey is born third, at nearly seven pounds. Met first by her honorary grandfather, Mouch, already at the hospital to be with his wife and her godparents, with her cousin Flora sleeping, having been in the world a little longer.

And finally, Nikolas Patrick Halstead made his arrival, last but the biggest at nine pounds, met by his uncle and godfather first, but shortly followed by uncle Kevin, his godmother Kim and uncle Adam still occupied with his cousin.

Life has a strange sense of humour sometimes but—as Kevin joked—at least they can all split birthday costs with each other and not have to worry about their various aunts and uncles not being able to make it.

Not to mention how it made finding the balance between being new parents and having a social life easier.

And eventually, people stopped looking at them as if they planned this. That is, of course, until Sylvie and Hailey had their second kids—Andrew Casey and Theodore Halstead—at the same time, too.

#burzek #upstead #stellaride #brettsey #chicago pd #Chicago fire #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago fire fanfiction #I'm not gonna tag all the characters bc Sheesh #but i will #kim burgess #hailey upton #bc there's a lot of upgess moments #ree writes #ree's.writing

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karezzasstuff · 3 years

Text

From the project of interviewing Stanley S. Bass about his experiences with Karezza techniques, The Life Science Publishing created the 2008 book Energy-Karezza. Here Dr. Bass tells the story of how, in his 30’s, he was on his way to become a celibate yogi through Brahmacharya, when he learned about reaching the same spiritual goal via Karezza & Tantra. He decided to try Karezza instead.

Even though his personal goal was spiritual, Dr. Bass soon discovered that women loved Karezza, and couldn’t get enough. When he started teaching the improved Energy-Karezza method to couples with marital problems, the results were astounding. Usually, within weeks, the couple had fallen in love again. Problematic marriages healed, becoming more and more harmonious and stronger with time.

Over time, over 50+ years, he not only gained experience concerning every aspect of Karezza/Tantra, but also – thanks to his energy-understanding, being an orthopathic doctor – developed an improved, more powerful & easy-to-learn, version. Traditional “Karezza/Tantra” can be difficult for men, but “Energy-Karezza/Tantra” is easy, and also gives more pleasure & prolongation..

INTRODUCING OTHERS TO KAREZZA

youtube

Karezza is about one thing, the man has to control himself. It is so easy. I got so good at this control that I soon was able to go almost a whole year with no accidents. With very heavy sex - three times a week, four hours each session. It didn't take long to get to a high level of proficiency.

In a few months I was very good at it already.

It is very simple, it is natural. It is not difficult. Prove it for yourself, don't take my word for it. Try it out. The first time I heard about it, it was strange to me, so I tried it. It didn't take me long to get good at it. It was easier than I thought. In fact, I taught Karezza to a lot of friends, and everyone had success.

If one of them asked me, "how do I know if it will work?", I gave him a simple method of trying it. I usually said, "why don't you first try:

1. Don't have an orgasm quickly, but wait until the woman is finished, until she has had her enjoyment. Practice holding back for half an hour, for an hour, for several hours, if you can.

2. Then you'll see that your own orgasms are better; they are more enjoyable.

3. Also try having an orgasm only every other time you have sex.

Skipping one time. Every other time, try without orgasm. See how you feel."

With my sex students, those were my instructions, to begin with. These instructions summarize basic traditional Karezza. But these simple instructions could still be difficult for some men. They lost control (ejaculated) early, and were never able to do Karezza for a full hour.

Therefore, to make it easier, I gave my students some Energy-Karezza secrets. I asked them to improve their diet, and to avoid alcohol and all drugs. I told them not to eat before sex, because a man can not control himself after he has eaten. Why? Because then too much blood goes to the stomach.

Also, I gave very detailed instructions on the best movements in sex. I told them to move slowly, and explained how to move, so they wouldn't get too excited, e.g. sideways, in semicircles, avoiding the in-out moves.

For the premature ejaculators, I told them to give up salt, and to not use anything spicy hot, avoid hot peppers, stay away from spices, because this throws them out of control. And then I told them to use certain motions, slow motions, that makes it easy to control oneself. That's all.

Then the women will get the pleasure, because the men are controlling themselves.

For some men the pleasure was so overwhelming that they were still unable to control themselves very long, more than perhaps 45 minutes, even if their diet was good and they had high vitality. In these cases I think the solution is just doing it over and over. Sometimes men, just like women, may need saturation with lots of high-pleasure peak orgasms, before they can start with serious self-control and higher-pleasure valley orgasms. It may take months, but in the end they will get there.

I myself was never overly concerned with the clitoris or the G-spot, because the Karezza was so enjoyable and I was so good at it that a woman couldn't hold out long. If they wanted to have an orgasm, they could have it quick. Women enjoyed it.

The women were very happy. After beginning Karezza, it became unnecessary to calculate all this stuff. I never had to actually figure it out.

All I did was to function naturally, the way I felt like, without thinking about it. And it was right, for every woman. If one gets too mechanical about it, one becomes a dud. Then it is not real. Real sex has nothing to do with the brain, it has to do with feelings, true feelings and movement.

That's all. The brain is not needed.

From page 45 the Technique to Paradise.

🍎🐍🏖️

YAB YUM

What are you experiencing?

~ by yab yum

Be patient. At first you can't experience the orgasmic part of this process. Some get it on their first try and for some it can take years. Keep practicing with the exercise your teacher gives you. Even if you don't experience the orgasm, just the breath and energy circling alone is of great value. It will clear blocks so that eventually the orgasm can pass through you. Blocks can be experienced in many ways – crying, gagging, getting frustrated, resurfacing old memories. Just keep breathing. Visualize letting go of the "old" on the exhale, ringing out the "new" on the inhale. Energy levels will most likely rise and fall, like mercury in a thermometer. Tell your partner where it slipped. Your partner will encourage you to tap into your sexual center when energy is slipping. One of the main keys to learning this technique is KNOWING that it is possible.

(When asked if she had an orgasm, Sara responded 🙂

It was uninterrupted, uninterrupted… This was definitely something else, which I have never experienced so fully.

(Sara was then asked if there were any psychological changes.)

Oh yes, sure. From the point of view of spiritual practice it is always full of insight, a kind of insight that comes after, about how I am in ecstasy in my usual state, because it is obvious that the ecstasy is inherent in the body (level), of my being… and also of course this would affect my meditation. I am much more relaxed and receptive physically, emotionally and psychologically when I sit down to meditate…. I don't know what this has to do with anything, but meditation becomes very sexual, very physical, playing with all these hormones. Very often in my meditation there is a stage like deepening where it goes through something like lovemaking in a hormonal sense. I feel the heat and change of energy and so forth, and then it just cools down. That is when deep meditation begins.

It is absolutely blissful in ecstasy because the bliss is something I feel in the body. The ecstasy is something where the body is no longer. Energy goes up. His community. It is love. The transcendent, the energy feeling, transcends even the light that I'm talking about in meditation, and just went into the light.

One tree merges with another tree, the earth merges with the trees, the trees merge with the sky, the sky merges with the unknown...you merge with me, I merge with you...everything merges...differences lost, melting and merging as waves into other waves…an enormous unity vibrating, alive, without limits, without definitions, without distinction…the sage melting into the sinner, the sinner flowing together in the sage…becoming good becoming bad, becoming bad…the night turning into the day, day turning into night… life melts into death, death plunges into life again – then everything has become one.

This has changed my experience with sexuality forever… It has blown up things like this what you have about sex, the good feeling you get from sexual experience or trying to get. It broke that because it was so obviously about submission. It wasn't about me trying to do something. It was about not doing something, but rather receiving or allowing it, rather than doing and creating and making.

This is the most profound healing practice I have ever encountered. It has awakened me to realize that my body is often shut off from the bliss and ecstasy it might be experiencing. Through this practice I have come to learn that emotional pain occurs when orgasmic energy does not flow freely through my body and that there is an infinite flow of orgasmic energy available to me. It has taken me years to gradually release the tension and pain in my body and I still have areas of tension to unblock. The sensations can be different each time depending on my condition, sometimes there is a pulsating vibration and sometimes it feels like some kind of electrical current circulating through my genitals throughout my body. There may be tears of joy. My mind can be perfectly clear and it can seem like everything I feared has been resolved. When a certain area of tension is unblocked and the orgasmic energy circulates, there is always an amazing sense of oneness with the life being awakened.

Mel 40 Auckland

My teacher knew how to touch – and where to make contact – He knew places to touch that I didn't know about – and soon I was on my way to another place in another universe. I was in a trance of breathing and sweat and pleasure that so long and so dead do had gone – that I traveled through light and sound. I never knew that such an experience could be had without actually making love. When I finally climaxed and climaxed and climaxed, I couldn't believe I was having a sexual climax in the presence of someone other than my husband. I felt both excitement and a little embarrassment. Looking back at this moment, I would never have thought that having an orgasm for another man would actually be the "beginning" of this whole journey in Tantra

Emma S 35

Auckland

And this is the joy of Cosmic Spiritual Orgasm, because you disappear for a moment. That moment is very small, but its impact is immense. For a moment you are no longer the ego, you do not think in terms of 'I', for a moment you dissolve into the oneness of the all, you become one with the whole, you pulsate with the whole. You are no longer an individual… you are no longer limited to your body. You have no limitations, for a moment you are unlimited, infinite.

That is the meaning of Cosmic Spiritual Orgasm – that your frozen energy melts, becoming one with this universe, with the trees and the stars, and the woman and the man, and the rocks – for a single moment, of course. But in THAT moment you have a kind of consciousness that is religious, that is sacred, that is one with all things. – OSHO

Unbelievable! Some are very strong and some are wonderfully subtle. In general, the more time you spend building up the energy, the more powerful the sensations. You experience “electricity” throughout your body, hands, feet and lips tingle, and there is a sense of letting go and receiving at the same time. You will feel high, euphoric and light-headed. It feels very different from a clitoral orgasm (but it can happen at the same time as a clitoral orgasm). You see a seed sprout, flowers appear on a tree somewhere, the birds are singing – the whole phenomenon is sexual. It is life manifesting in many ways. When the bird sings, it is a sexual call, an invitation. When the flower attracts butterflies and bees, it is an invitation, because the bees and butterflies bear the seeds of reproduction. Everything seems to be divided into these two polarities. And life is a rhythm between these two opposites. Repulsion and attraction, coming closer and getting far… these are the rhythms.

#awakening #tantra #unconditionallove #karezza #nirvana #moksha #yabyum #freedom #liberty #hypocrisy #john lennon #the beatles #Youtube

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bookishofalder · 3 years

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Night Changes [Eight]

Summary: 34 ABY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a beat, nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, he’d only considered it very briefly.

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

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

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

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

D’Qar Five Weeks Ago

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

“What if I tired myself out, flyboy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, husband.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laughing, Poe lifted you lightly, each of you groaning at the sensation as he slipped from you and your mixture of fluids spilled out onto his thigh.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s eat.”

It went without saying that you would enjoy one another for dessert.

You perked up suddenly, eyes still on the cantina, and Poe casually glanced over his shoulder. Spotting Dario ambling out of the door, he felt a lick of heat crawl up his spine; that asshole had pointed a blaster at you. He was going to turn you both over to the First Order, who would have tortured and killed you. Maybe Poe should have been more concerned that he would kill Dario, rather than arrest the motherfu-

“Let’s go.” You grabbed Poe’s arm and tugged, starting forward as Dario turned to walk up the road. Considering the Twi’lek was in hiding, he didn’t exactly hasten to return to the comfort and safety of his temporary home. It was easy to catch him up, and you tossed Poe a delighted little smile before surreptitiously unholstering your blaster and pressing into Dario’s back.

Dario made to turn, a small noise of surprise huffing out, but Poe threw an arm around his shoulder before he could see you and smiled. “Dario, dear friend, it’s good to see you.” He tightened his hold to an uncomfortable pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Dario grumbled, putting up no fight. His eyes widened when you used your free hand to search him for weapons and pulled out his old blaster, tucking it into your waistband.

“Fuck is right,” You hissed, pressing the blaster a little harder into his back, “You’re coming with us, Dario. The Resistance has questions for you.”

Poe smiled at you proudly as you each led Dario through the streets towards the waiting ship. He saw you biting back your smile—you were much better at acting appropriate in the field than he was, though he had to admire his strength; the urge to kill Dario on sight had almost made him see red.

But that would have made the mission a failure, as Dario could have information the Rebels could use, and getting him out of the reach of the First Order ensured that he could not give them information about the Resistance.

Still, Poe would ensure his capture was far from comfortable.

Poe’s hand had found its way to your lower back, where he pressed it gently as you walked along beside him from your post-mission check in with the General. “You didn’t need to punch Dario the second time, Flyboy.” You teased, the memory of Poe punching the traitor before pushing him into the base’s lock-up making your lips tug up at the corners.

He laughed, shrugging as you weaved through the busy hallways, both nodding polite greetings to those you passed. Everyone referred to you as Major Dameron, now that word had spread through the base these past six weeks that Poe Dameron and (y/n) Horn had been married. You knew for certain you’d never been happier in your life, and based on how Poe could barely keep his hands off of you, he was enjoying life just as much.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just tag along for your check-up?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at your husband with mild exasperation, “Poe, it’s an annual,” You reminded him, stopping in your tracks to step close to him and peer up at his handsome face, “Go work on your mission report and I’ll see you in the room later, alright?”

When he merely grinned at you mischievously, you giggled before sliding your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, something you noticed he did a lot, as though he were testing that he was still allowed to kiss you. He then cupped your jaw in his hands and met you again, this time in the sort of kiss that made your knees shake, his tongue tracing along your lips teasingly before he pulled back and pressed a more chaste peck to your forehead.

“See you later, sweetheart.” He murmured, his tone suggesting your evening would be a long continuation of that kiss. You felt very warm when you smiled up at Poe before spinning and walking down the hall to the med bay, fully aware his eyes were on your ass.

The med bay was fairly quiet when you arrived, the nurse at the main desk seemed to be peering off at nothing, lost in thought. You cleared your throat awkwardly and she started before a polite smile appeared and she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Sorry about that,” She said, and you waved your hand to show there was no need, “What can I help you with?”

“I have an annual, Major H-um, Major Dameron.”

The nurse smiled more broadly and winked at you before standing, “Come with me, dear.” She led you through to the back, past the emergency section and into the further depths where offices and operating rooms were located. She gestured for you to enter a doorway you had plenty of times before, where annual checkups and post-mission physicals were done. “The medical droid will start on your readings after you change into your gown and the Healer will be here shortly.”

You thanked the nurse before she left, then walked over to the bed and plucked the gown from where it was folded. You changed out of your clothing quickly before tugging it on, then hopped onto the bed to wait. When the droid came in moments later, you stuck out your arm and let it begin its work taking your blood pressure, a small sample of blood, examining your eyes and ears, everything all so routine you were as zoned out as the nurse had been when you arrived.

A younger female Healer walked in as the droid took your temperature, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Major. I’m Healer Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you, Healer Boyd,” You replied, watching as she looked down at the droids readings displayed now on her tablet. All was quiet for a few minutes until the droid was at the implant in your arm performing the routine scan. The droid beeped after the first scan, then scanned again and this caught your attention as you’d never needed multiple scans to get a reading on the birth control implant.

Healer Boyd glanced up from her tablet and walked over to the droid, “Let’s do that once more, please.” She directed, and the droid repeated the scan once more, then beeped indignantly. Her eyes narrowed fractionally in confusion and she stepped up to you, her hand reaching for your arm, “I’m just going to have a feel, seems the implant isn’t giving a reading—which I have seen before; we might switch it out today.”

Her fingers gently prodded around the skin until she pinched up a small section of your upper arm and the droid attempted the scan again. The Healer hummed when the droid beeped indignantly, and then walked over to a supply cabinet and began riffling around.

“I thought these implants lasted longer before needing to be changed out?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes the implant does have to get exchanged earlier, it’s not an exact science,” She turned and settled onto a stool next to you, offering you a smile, “But that’s why we do the scans. And of course, the implant still does its job while it’s in your arm. I’m just going to ask you to lie down for me while I do the switch...that’s great thank you.”

You closed your eyes once you were laying on your side, grateful the procedure was painless but not interested in seeing it for yourself. The Healer worked quietly while extracting the implant and you had begun to mull over how they even worked, your medical knowledge in the area fairly basic, when she made a sudden noise of surprise.

You glanced up at her, then followed her startled gaze to the implant held in the extraction prongs. Even you could tell it looked wrong like the tiny medical device had been set on fire, no longer sleek but rather mangled and lifeless.

Healer Boyd stared at the device for a few beats, then looked up at you. “I’m going to have to make a call.”

You waited impatiently for half an hour for Healer Boyd to return, no longer laying on the bed but instead pacing around the small room nervously. You seriously hoped you weren’t about to find out you had some sort of disease or illness, because that seemed like the sort of luck you would have. Though you hadn’t ever heard of any that disintegrated medical devices.

When the Healer did finally reappear, the expression on her face was tightly pleasant, like she was readying herself. “Major, I’ve just been in touch with Healer Martell and his team,” She began, gesturing for you to take a seat.

Tahla had gone back to the outpost he worked from the day after your wedding. So why he was the one Healer Boyd had called only further confused you. “Okay, why...” You trailed off, swallowing heavily.

“I believe you were told that the pollen you and Commander Dameron were exposed to during your mission earlier this year was very rare. So rare in fact that some after-effects are unknown,” She glanced at her droid, which moved forward and began to bandage up your arm where the implant had been removed from, first peeling off the gauze that had been placed there temporarily. You watched with narrowed eyes—they still needed to put in a new one. “And we haven’t ever had a situation where those who were exposed were left untreated for as long as you and your husband were. I ran a few tests on the device while I spoke to Healer Martell. It appears the long-term exposure allowed the pollen to...treat the device as white blood cells would a foreign contaminant.”

You stared, “The pollen destroyed the implant?”

“Yes,” She replied slowly, taking her stool and sitting on it directly in front of you now, “Of course, checking the implant was never a thought-we’ve simply never seen this before. Your implant hasn’t been working since around the time you and the Commander collapsed on base.”

You didn’t understand why she was sitting so close, nor why the droid had left your arm bandaged. “But I can get a new implant, right? Tahla assured me-assured us both, that we no longer have pollen in our systems.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unsure of what emotion you were even experiencing at the moment, just that you could feel it bubbling up inside of you.

“He was correct, you both are free of the pollen. And we can put a new implant in, however not at this time,” And she reached out then, her hand grasping one of yours firmly, “You’re pregnant, Major. Based on today’s check-up, it appears you are about six weeks along.”

Well, fuck.

The first thing Poe noticed when you walked into the room was the bandage on your arm. He’d been sitting at the desk, typing out his report, when you arrived, your expression unreadable.

“Sweetheart,” He shot out of the chair and crossed the room in two strides, one hand landing on your cheek and the other gesturing at your arm, “Did a med droid malfunction?”

You laughed, “No, I’m alright,” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, and your eyes were glassy, not meeting his but instead looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Do you think Charlie would be proud of me? Of how far I’ve come, that I hold the same rank as he did?”

Caught off guard by the question, Poe glanced behind him and found you were staring at the picture of the three of you he had on his corkboard. “Yes, of course, he would,” Concern now flooding him, Poe led you to the bed and helped you take a seat. You still didn’t meet his eyes, your expression torn. “Charlie was proud of you before you even joined the Resistance. Once you did join—hell, he bragged about you all the time.”

“And you? You’re proud of me?”

Poe stared at you for a beat before dropping to his knees in front of where you sat. Sliding between your legs, he gripped your thighs tightly, “What’s going on? Did you get pulled from duty? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, then dropped it to Poe’s shoulder where he could hear you taking slow, measured breaths. “They didn’t pull me. But they suggested different duties.” Poe wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pushing you back so that he could look at you again. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to his and then away. Poe waited as patiently as he could for you to elaborate. “They said—it might be best for me to keep away from the riskier missions. From combat. Because of my condition.”

Poe frowned, his stomach tying itself up in knots of concern, “Condition?”

He saw it then, a brief flash of the emotion you were holding back—joy. It was fleeting like you were scared of it, but it made the whole odd conversation you were now having with him make a little more sense, made your next words a little less shocking.

“I’m pregnant, Poe. My implant was destroyed by the pollen before we...” You trailed off, rubbing your hands over your face and then meeting his gaze again, “They said about six weeks along, so still early which is why I haven’t had any symptoms.”

Poe had lived his life since joining the Resistance with the knowledge that each day that he didn’t get hurt, captured, or killed, was a day to celebrate. After Charlie had died, and you had left, he realized that a single moment could alter his entire existence. One night could change everything, and he only had so much control.

You coming back into his life, that had been a gift. After forgiving one another for the past, you had a chance for a fresh start. And he’d been happy with that, just knowing you were his friend again and that you cared for him--it was enough.

But then you’d told him you loved him. And it had been like every moment, every breath he’d ever taken, had been leading up to that night-as right as it felt, that feeling of coming home, joining his body with yours. Finally saying everything he’d held in for so long, that was as good as life could get. It was perfection, and he had no right to demand more—until he did, and he asked you to marry him, and you’d said yes so quickly and smiled so widely that he remembers, distinctly, thinking to himself, ‘yes, this is enough.’

Pregnant.

The reality of having a child when you were soldiers in the war against the tyranny of the First Order, weighed heavily over the good news. But his first emotions, which hit him like a tsunami, were of radiant joy, the best kind of tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at you, his beautiful wife, his best friend, his soulmate, in wonder. Because surely, even though it was unexpected, life could not be this good? He wanted to ask you to pinch him, just to prove he wasn’t asleep and dreaming up this life with you, but he found words hard to come by, so he smiled broadly.

You had been watching him warily, but the moment his face split into a painfully wide grin, your own broke through and for a minute you just looked at one another, soaking up that happy, astonishing feeling.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed after a while, tears still blurring his vision, “Maker I—pregnant? Are you...how do you feel?”

“Physically, normal? I don’t know about the rest of me, I think I’m in shock.”

Poe reached one hand up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips, “Have you...did you, uh,” He paused, wanting to word this right. He knew he didn’t need to ask you but was determined to treat you with the respect you deserved. It was your body, your choice, and the reality was you had that implant for a reason—he could not just assume your willingness, he had to be sure, to let you know he supported any decision you made. “I will support you here, no matter what you want to do, alright sweetheart? I know this is...this is huge.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his and Poe saw a flurry of emotions cross your features as you considered the implication of his words. “Thank you,” You reached up and placed your hand over the one he had cupping your jaw, “This is huge...and unexpected, and fucking terrifying. I’ve thought about us starting a family, you know—one day. But this is, Maker, Poe, this is our baby. Ours.” You brought both hands cradle over your stomach, a mixture of protectiveness and happiness colouring your words.

The sight of your hands pressed where you were growing his child, the way you spoke so strongly, it did something to Poe. Like it was the final piece of his life, slotting into place and completing him, his chest expanding from the force of it all. He suddenly felt stronger, wiser—and more in love with you than ever, if that was even possible.

He reached out somewhat tentatively, placing a hand over the top of yours where it rested on your so far unchanged stomach, his eyes moving upward until he met your gaze. You drew in a breath at the expression on his face, your eyes widening.

“Ours,” He repeated, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Our family.” He leaned forward then, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the moment. You kissed him back eagerly, your eyes on his lips when he eventually drew back.

“I realize what this means—what keeping the baby will mean,” You admitted sadly, “Even without the Healer’s recommendation, I understand I can’t go into the field any longer. You and I were already blurring the lines of protocol to keep each other safe.”

Poe nodded in agreement, his hand tightening slightly at your stomach, “You are sacrificing a lot to do this, sweetheart. Please know that I understand and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy. I’ll talk to Leia in the morning, ensure we get you a good assignment here.” He felt a little helpless, now, realizing that you had nine months of pregnancy to endure and he could only do so much to help you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” You spoke almost as much to yourself as to Poe, your brows pinching together, “Family comes first, always. So we’ll figure this all out. Together.”

Outwardly, Poe nodded and smiled at you encouragingly. Inside, however, a spark illuminated the stark reality--that he was currently sitting with the love of his life, who was pregnant with his child, in the secret base for the Resistance.

Arguably one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.

34 ABY - D’Qar

Five months pregnant.

Shit, you were exhausted.

It had been another long day. You wanted to blame the baby for draining your energy, but you knew that it wasn’t realistic—you were more mentally exhausted than anything.

Anytime Poe was away for more than a few days at a time, your anxiety spiked and you had trouble focusing on much else. You had surprised yourself, when you first found out you were pregnant, over how quickly the resolve to pull yourself from combat and flight had come over you. You didn’t even miss flying because Poe would bring you out for ‘test flights’ whenever he could get the time, give you a chance to stretch your wings, figuratively, and break any monotony in your schedule.

But you didn’t find your new job boring, because you worked directly for General Organa. You advised and planned and aided her on the daily, in whatever capacity needed, which sometimes allowed you to get a glimpse of the kind of horrors the First Order was performing across the galaxy and it only fueled your internal fire to work hard-not just for her, but for everyone. For the oppressed, those captured, those who had been lost, and especially for your little family. If you could bring this baby safely into the galaxy and give them a good home, then it was easily worth the long hours.

But you worried constantly over Poe. He was out there with Temmin and Kare on dangerous missions; you could do nothing to calm your nerves, and it drained you. Sometimes there were several days between communications and you would inevitably begin to spiral, convincing yourself he was captured or dead, always waiting for the dream that was being married to your best friend to turn into a nightmare.

His missions lately had been especially dangerous, as Black team had been finalizing the search for pieces of a map that lead to Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother. The infamous Jedi went missing after a tragic event no one knew the details of. Even Leia kept that one close, and you never tried to ask. She simply told you that it felt necessary to bring Luke back, not only because he was her brother but to fight the First Order. That was enough for you—if you could bring your brother back, you would stop at nothing to do it.

When you reached the door to your shared room with Poe, your eyes fell heavily shut, relying on your memory of the space to shuffle forward, contemplating if you could manage a shower while this tired or if you should just go straight to bed. You were convincing yourself to shower when an amused voice cut through the air, startling you.

“Are you sleepwalking, sweet girl?”

Your eyes snapped open to find Poe sitting on the edge of the bed, his flight suit discarded on the floor nearby so that he only wore his briefs and a white tee.

“Poe!” You gasped, launching yourself across the room and into his waiting arms. “Stars, you’re home! I thought you’d be gone longer.” He pulled you onto his lap as you spoke, settling you against him and wrapping his arms securely around you before burying his face into your neck. He inhaled you deeply, a new habit he’d established since you’d left Black team as if grounding himself with you.

His breath was warm against your skin when he spoke, “We were able to wrap things up quickly,” He tightened his hold on you with one arm so that he could reach between your bodies with the other and gently place his hand over the slight belly you now had. “How are you two doing? You look so tired, sweetheart.” His tone was laced with worry that you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully quell.

“We’re doing good, Poe, really. Remember what Healer Boyd said—“

Poe sighed, his lips tugging up at the corners, “It’s exhausting work, growing a human?”

You nodded and gave him your best grin, though you imagined it was more sleepy than anything. You studied your husband, from the worry in his face to the bags under his own eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You had sensed there was something he wasn’t saying for a while now but hadn’t figured out how to ask him what was going on. You had no real reason to suspect he was keeping anything from you, it was more of a feeling, and you didn’t want to cause him further stress by accusing him of anything without a better idea of whether you were right.

You usually ended up convincing yourself it was just the weariness and nerves of becoming a parent, a feeling you shared. With how unexpected your pregnancy had been, and the fact that he was off-world more often than not, he must have been feeling a great amount of guilt and concern. So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, to distract yourself from everything. To welcome him home and show him you were just fine, that you missed him.

Every time he came home from a mission, the reunions ended up like this—it was like the relief only lasted so long, therefore you each needed to try and extend that feeling by getting yourselves as close to one another as possible. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, the assurance that you were safe and loved. Your hormones were such that even just a casual look from your husband ensured you became slick with need, and it was as though Poe was experiencing his own version of the same, meeting your insatiable desire with his own at every turn.

You loved the feel of him stretching you, tonight you’d barely been able to get out of your pants before he was pulling you back onto his lap and driving into you, the need to feel one another outweighing the parts that usually preceded; foreplay, clothing removal. You were already soaking and ready for him, rolling your hips as he scooted further onto the bed so that he could brace himself to thrust upward. When he found that angle, the one that made you see stars, you let yourself scream; for him, for more, for everything.

Poe delivered, never faltering in his need to ensure you reached your peak over and over, as though he couldn’t feel pleasure unless you did. You’d never known such an unselfish lover as Poe, and it made you love him even more. Even if sometimes, you thought you might combust from the way he pleasured you, or the way he spoke when making love to you.

The reality was, you and Poe had only just begun to explore one another fully when you found out you were expecting. Newlyweds, your relationship still fresh, and then you were with child—his child—and you discovered he wasn’t only passion and sweetness and slow lovemaking, he was also commanding, cocky, and you loved it when that side of him came out.

When you’d started to show—your belly bulging slightly and your breast swelling, that part of Poe seemed to evolve, as though the sight of you swollen with his child was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. And as you pulled your shirt over your head now, you saw that glint in his eye, the way his pupils blew out as he gazed at you, how he bit his lip before letting out a groan that you swore was the single most erotic sound in the galaxy.

“Like what you see?” You teased, running a hand down your body to rest on your bump, your hips still rolling.

Poe growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “Fuck, you are sexy,” He leaned forward and licked over your breasts as he pounded up into you and you whimpered. “Think about you t-the whole time, when I’m gone, sweet girl.”

“I know, Poe, I miss you too. Think about you when I touch myself-”

Poe’s half-lidded eyes widened, and he was suddenly flipping you carefully onto your back on the bed, his breathing erratic, “Is that true, baby? You touch that pretty cunt while I’m g-gone, wish I was here filling you with my cum?”

He started to rut his hips down at a near brutal pace and you cried out in pleasure, unable to find the words to respond. He didn’t like your silence—commanding, dominating Poe now in full force, and he leaned down to bite a mark into your neck, a snarl tearing from his throat.

He needed to hear you admit it.

“W-wish you could fuck me all the time,” You whispered, your voice cracking as he fucked you into the bed, “Isn’t nearly as—oh shit, Poe I’m gonna-“

Your back arched as the pleasure that had been building up inside of you finally snapped--that hot, wet sensation wiped all coherent thought from your mind, stars painting the inside of your eyelids. You heard yourself repeating his name as you soaked the bed with your orgasm, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock until-

“Oh sweet girl,” He groaned, his hips stilling as he pressed deep into you and spilled his cum, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm; you clutched him close. He didn’t allow any of his weight to fall over you, pulling out slowly before flopping down onto the bed next to you and tugging you into his side. “You okay? Did I got too hard?”

You were panting, completely blissed-out, and it took a moment for his words to register, “Oh, I’m more than okay, flyboy.” Giggling, you rolled onto your side and peered up at Poe, meeting his warm eyes and smiling. “How about you, are you okay?”

You didn’t mean for the level of concern to show in your voice, but it slipped out and he caught on to it immediately, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to consider your question.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke, “I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I worry about you...things are—they’re getting intense out there. Leaving you here doesn't feel as much like I’m keeping you safe as it once did. If this base is ever discovered, the First Order will make its destruction top priority. They won’t hesitate to kill every single person on this planet.”

His voice was heavy, the words coming out easily enough that you knew he’d been thinking this for a long time. He sat up, sitting crossed-legged on the bed and staring across the room at nothing, and you felt a sense of dread begin to grow at the back of your mind. You suspected you might be closing in on what he’d been keeping from you, and suddenly felt afraid to know.

“Poe, we have a lot of things in place here to keep us safe. There are escape plans.”

Still looking across the room, Poe gave a small nod of his head, “But none can guarantee your safety. I know you worry about me when I’m gone—well I’m fucking terrified for you, too. And I—I...” He stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as if he had to physically fight to keep the words in and you frowned, watching him.

You sat up, moving slowly and then reaching down to push the comforter off the bed—it would need to be laundered. You had a few extras for this exact reason. Poe was silent as you moved, his eyes staring unseeingly across the room.

“Poe,” You reached out one hand and touched his shoulder, keeping your voice level despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, “Just say...tell me what you’re thinking.”

Silence.

“Poe Dameron, look at me.” You commanded, and his eyes shot up to meet yours, widening in surprise at the fierce expression on your face.

“I—I’ve got another mission,” He began shakily, a hand coming up to rest over yours on his shoulder, “And it’s big. It’ll just be me and a lot could go wrong, and I can’t stand the idea of leaving you here, that you would stay here if something happened to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue that nothing would happen to him, that, of course, you would stay, only he turned suddenly and brought both hands to cup your jaw, the look of fear on his face like nothing you’d ever seen; you’re Poe didn’t scare, he laughed in the face of fear.

“Sweetheart, I’d be letting you down, letting Charlie down, if I failed to protect you. To protect our baby,” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you didn't like how it felt like he was saying something in that kiss. “I spoke to Leia, a few weeks ago. I asked her...begged her to help me keep you safe.”

Your frown deepened, “I work alongside her every day, Poe, I probably have the safest job in the entire Resistance.”

He shook his head, “What I mean is, I asked her where the safest place would be to hide you until this war is over.” Poe was looking at you cautiously now, and you leaned back to assess his face.

His words confused you. You stammered your reply uncertainly, “Hide me? What do you mean—I’m not going-”

Poe’s face tightened, tears now threatening and his voice came out choked, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to, sweet girl. I have to keep you safe, and the truth is if I do get captured and the enemy finds out about you, about both of you, I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Poe dropped one hand to press over your belly, the gesture both sweet and protective. Your ears were ringing, though, and you didn’t have time to appreciate it. “I don’t want to send you away, you know it’s the last thing I’d ever want, but if you go somewhere safe, then I-“

“You can what, Poe? Fight the First Order all on your own? You do realize what you’re saying, right? We both know how this war is going, it could be years before it’s over. Years before...and what if you get caught and they find out where I am? Then what?” You felt your anger and despair growing by the moment, no doubt exacerbated by the flush of hormones coursing through your system.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from yours briefly, and he gulped almost comically before looking back at you and continuing, “Well, Leia thought of that. She seems to think that...our minds aren’t always going to be safe, that the First Order has a weapon that could break through...so she knows where she is going to send you, but I won’t know. No one else will.”

You stared at your husband for a very long, tense moment.

“B-but if you don’t know where I am-“

Poe blinked and several tears began to stream down his face, “It’s the best way, the only way, to do this. And I promise I’ll fight every day to stay alive and then I’ll find you.” He tried to pull you close again only you resisted, pushing his hands away so that you could give him your harshest glare, which he flinched under the heat of.

“What if, Maker forbid, something happens to Leia? I could be anywhere, in any system on any planet, and you’d have no way to find me, you-“ Your voice started to raise, an almost hysterical surge of emotions bubbling up your chest, “It could be years before the war is over and then a decade before you’d be able to find me! That-that’s bullshit, Poe. You’re going to abandon us on some fucking random planet and we could never see you again!”

You were crying now too, the tears blurring your vision as you shouted, refusing to accept this plan. But the sad way he looked at you as he cried told you Poe was serious, that he saw this as the only way forward, and you wanted to fucking scream.

“Sweet girl, I will never abandon you. I love you so much that even if they do somehow capture me, I won’t ever break, I’ll keep fighting and then if I have to tear this entire galaxy apart, I’ll find you. I promise I will find you,” He wiped harshly at his face, then grabbed your hands and held them tightly in his own, his expression desperate, “I want to meet our baby and watch them grow. I want to give them a sibling or two, even, and grow old together. Leia has everything figured out--she’s even going to have my dad flown here; he can go with you, so you won’t be alone.”

You wrenched your hands from Poe’s and shot off the bed, your eyes widening in betrayal, “Leia has everything figured out?” You repeated, and you saw the realization of what his words had revealed flash across his face, “You-when exactly did you think I was going to get shipped off, Poe?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought back to the beginning of this conversation when he’d claimed to have a big mission in a few days. You gaped at him as the realization hit that he was here for the next several days to get you ready to leave.

To say goodbye.

You burst into tears, heavy sobs pulling from your chest because there was no arguing this, was there? If you didn’t go, he could be out there too worried about you to be focused and then it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? And he was right, this base, even if you were glued to Leia twenty-four-seven, was still a hot zone for attack should its location ever be revealed to the First Order.

And did you truly expect to raise your baby on this base? There wasn’t even any space in this room you shared with Poe for a fucking crib, no places you could go to play, no other children for your child to play with. You had known all this the moment you’d found out you were pregnant, but now the reality of it all was crashing down around you because you’d never thought it would mean having to leave Poe. Again.

Another thought occurred to you, and you ignored the way he was trying to soothe you, now sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping his distance, his expression making clear he wanted to pull you back into his arms.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

Poe tilted his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was staying, that I would have the baby and then you could go get shipped off somewhere safe with them, that I wanted to be the one to stay and fight?”

Poe gaped at you only for a beat, “You said—sweetheart, I asked you if you wanted this and you said you did, I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the baby, that you were okay with leaving the fight. I never wanted you to feel forced to do it!”

“I know,” You agreed evenly, your voice hardening, “But I didn’t know that it meant I was going to be fucking shipped away, Poe!”

You saw him falter then, his entire argument crumbling and he slumped where he sat on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, “You’re right...I’m so sorry, of course, I can’t just expect you to...Fuck.” His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his sobs, and for a moment you stared down at him, his words doing nothing to calm you.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Sure, it was a misstep for him to just assume as the mother that you would be the one to go away and raise the baby, it was old-school thinking. But you were aware of who you married, weren’t you?

He was the best pilot in the Resistance, the strongest fighter, the best of the best. If anyone was going to win this war, it would be your Poe—and while you used to think it would include you being at his side, fighting right along with him, that was no longer the reality. You couldn’t pull the best chance the Rebels had from the fight, and you couldn’t stay and fight yourself.

Which meant you had to leave.

You stepped forward and knelt before Poe, your hands tentatively touching his thighs and he started, his head popping up, “Oh sweetheart, don’t crouch down like that-“

“I’m fine,” You interjected, sliding between his knees and reaching up to cup his face, mirroring the way he’d embraced you so many times before, “And you...you’re right. I’m sorry for—well, I hate how you’ve just sprung this on me, but I know I can’t stay here and raise our baby like this.”

Poe searched your face and you wiped your thumbs under his eyes to clear away the tears, even as the reality of what you were agreeing to settled within you. He shook his head lightly, “I didn’t know how to do this. It’s the last thing...we only just found each other again, the idea of not knowing where you are, not being able to check-in, it terrifies me, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, nodding your head, “You aren’t going to be there when I...” You trailed off, the picture in your head of giving birth without Poe by your side too hard to say aloud. He understood, pulling you close against him as he dropped to the floor, hugging you tightly as you both sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmured, one hand stroking your hair, “I promise I will find you the moment I can, and I’ll never leave your side again.”

You couldn’t help but think, at that moment, that you had been right.

The dream really was a nightmare.

35 ABY - Aboard The Falcon - Sinta Glacier Colony

Poe looked up as a distant noise sounded, peering around Chewbacca to see a wall of Tie-fighters approaching where they were docked in the Falcon. He shared a terrified look with the Wookie.

“FINN! We’re about to be cooked!” He shouted back, hoping that the transmission of the message from their unknown spy in the First Order was nearly complete-they needed to get going.

“We’re almost there!” Finn hollered back, his voice cutting off as he ran to check R2D2, and after a tense moment...“We’ve got it, Poe!”

Poe didn’t hesitate, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly before launching the Falcon forward and away from the informant, the knowledge heavy in his mind that there was a good chance Ovissian Boolio was going to be murdered for giving them the message. But there was nothing to be done for it now; this message was of vital importance to the Resistance, they needed to get it back to base.

The Falcon raced through the bay as fighters gained on their rear. Poe had no doubt that Finn was hurrying to the shooter station, but maintained the high speed and steered as carefully as he could. They hit a corner a little close and there was a shudder throughout the ship as it made contact.

Chewie exclaimed worriedly at this, “I’m sorry, I know, I know!” Poe apologized, frantically readjusting as they heard Finn begin to fire from below. He could see a lot of bogeys on the radar still, “Finn, you’re supposed to be getting rid of those things!”

He heard Finn make a noise before he shouted back, “Got one!”

“How many are left?” Poe swivelled in his seat and started making adjustments to the ship's systems, an idea forming in his mind. Not his best, but definitely not his worst.

“Too many!” Came the response from below. Shit.

The next few moments were incredibly tense as they worked together to outmaneuver the enemies on their tail until each one crashed or was shot down by Finn. Adrenaline was running high aboard the Falcon now as the near-death moments started to pile atop one another. Mission success was currently not guaranteed. Your image appeared in his mind briefly, the memory of the last time he had seen you, the love in your eyes.

He swallowed, swerving the ship up and seeing another wall of fighters ahead, “How thick do you think that ice is?” He asked Chewie, who made a loud noise in caution but Poe only gunned it forward, until relief swept through him—they were able to break through, free of the station and in open space now.

There were still fighters in pursuit, though, so they weren’t in the clear yet. Poe gritted his teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see Finn standing behind him, before bringing the ship into light speed. When he pulled back out, most of the ships had managed to follow and after a bit of complicated flying, he put the Falcon back into light speed as Finn shouted in fear from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Finn cried, gripping the back of his seat. Poe fiddled with the controls, fully aware he was pushing the ship to its limits but not willing to go down without exhausting every last effort to survive.

“Light speed skipping,” He grunted in reply, reaching up to set his parameters with one eye on the fighters still in pursuit.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Poe hit the throttle forward, throwing the ship back out of light speed, “My wife.” He replied, leaning forward and steering around the onslaught of obstacles in their direct path, simultaneously readying the ship to jump again. He heard Finn begin to react to the knowledge the Poe had been married, surprise evident in his friend’s tone, but Chewbacca’s words of caution were louder and Poe glared at him instead, “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?”

He gunned it into light speed, then almost as quickly pulled them back out. His stomach was in his throat as a very large, very alive obstacle was now dead ahead, and Poe silently thanked you for having taught him about light speed jumping before readying the ship to jump again.

“Last jump,” He yelled, leaning forward, “Maybe forever-hold on!”

When they landed the Falcon back on Ajan Kloss, Poe was furious beyond all measure. It wasn’t just that he’d nearly died, again. Almost cost the lives of his friends, again. It was that Rey hadn’t been there, and she was one of the best pilots he’d ever met. She was almost as good as him, nearly as good as you had been. He was heartbroken that you weren’t there to fight anymore—but Rey was and yet she chose to stay on base and train when her joining them on a mission like this would have been a much-needed boost, a much greater chance at survival.

They hurried off the Falcon and Poe lingered momentarily to instruct the ground team, “It’s on fire! Whole things on fire!” Maker, he was getting tired of these close calls. He’d been through a lot—survived a great deal, over this last year, but today was close enough that he had felt the hands of death creeping toward him, momentarily.

When he turned away from the burning ship, Rey was approaching, her face excited despite the condition of the Falcon. He marched over to her with his face straining, attempting to keep his cool.

“Hi! There’s a spy?” She asked brightly, her gaze surveying his stiff posture.

Poe huffed, “Really could have used your help out there.” He admitted, unable to keep the vitriol entirely out of his tone.

Rey frowned, then attempted to change the subject. “How’d it go?”

Poe stopped before her, hands landing on his hips, anger flaring, “Really bad, actually. Really bad.”

“Hans ship!” She exclaimed then, gazing over at the burning Falcon and gesturing in dismay.

Before he could reply, BB8 came whizzing up to Poe, beeping excitedly in greeting. At first, he was happy to see the orange and white droid, until he looked down and realized it was pretty beat up. He glared up at Rey, “What did you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” She countered stubbornly, her arms crossing.

“Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is, Rey!” He exclaimed, gesturing at BB8 incredulously. This was why he found her difficult-here she was, safely on base ‘training’, with the one task of minding his droid. And not only did she fail at that, but she also dared to get angry at him for getting Finn and Chewie, the intel, and himself back safely to base.

“BB8 is not on fire, Poe!”

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire!” He shouted, knowing full well that this was about more than his droid and yet struggling to see past his rage and form a proper sentence in Basic.

Rey seemed to sense his anger and took a breath, steadying herself, “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me first, Rey.” He deadpanned, scowling.

Rey glared straight back at him, holding up her hands in frustration, “You know what you are—you’re difficult. A difficult, stubborn man.”

“You—you are-” Poe cut himself off as he heard Finn call for Rey from behind him, and instead stepped around her to drop before his droid, shaking his head. “You okay, buddy?”

BB8 beeped merrily, sharing with Poe what had happened that afternoon but cutting off to ask if he was alright. Poe sighed, running his hands over his face, but nodded to his droid.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about her a lot today,” He admitted quietly, “Now what happened to you?”

Before BB8 could reply, Chewbacca yelled to Rey and Poe heard his name mentioned before she was walking toward him again, this time with Finn in tow. “You light speed skipped?”

“Yeah, well it got us back here, didn’t it?” He shot back, his hackles raising again. Finn caught Poe’s eye, his expression bright with curiosity—he wanted to know more about you, no doubt.

“You can’t light speed skip the Falcon!” Rey cried in exasperation, her eyes wide and for one moment, Poe wanted to scream. He’d come this close to dying today and had managed to get them all home safely, even if it did mean the Falcon needed a lot of repairs. She couldn’t just thank him, maybe?

His voice was rough when he replied, “Turns out you can, actually.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you even know-“

Finn interjected this time, “Turns out our friend here hasn’t been completely honest with us, eh, Poe?” He grinned, glancing from Rey to Poe, then winked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

With a sigh, Poe frowned before responding. Stepping closer to his friends, he kept his voice low. “That information stays between us, and Chewie, Finn.” He’d mentioned you in the heat of the moment and wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about you. But he’d spent an awfully long time holding back his truth from Rey and Finn and it was starting to feel wrong.

“What information?” Rey looked between them, confused.

When Poe looked at her, he hesitated, his gaze hardening while he considered what he was about to tell her. He trusted Rey, and Finn for that matter, but he’d chosen to keep quiet about you all this time for a reason, and it was hard to break down those walls and talk about you. He’d built them up to protect himself, to keep his pain and sorrow buried down deep.

Poe pointed between them both, his jaw set, “Between us!” He growled, giving them both a harsh look.

Finn clapped Poe on the shoulder, eyes serious, “Of course it does, man. Between us.” He agreed, and Rey nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Poe hesitated for another moment, and then finally confessed.

“I’m married. You uh...you know about my best friend, Charlie...” Poe began and Rey’s expression became understanding while Finn merely gaped, his brows knitting together now in confusion.

“Charlie died,” Rey whispered sadly, recalling the conversation they’d shared a few months prior after Han had died and they were discussing loss. “And didn’t you say...you told us his sister died too—Maker, Poe-!”

Finn gasped, his face morphing in horror, “Brother, you aren’t saying your wife is d-“

Poe couldn’t even stand to hear the words, so he cut Finn off with a rough shake of his head, peering around to ensure no one overheard. “No, that’s just what Leia and I let everyone believe, who knew her. She’s alive.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but Rey kept frowning at Poe, her expression uncertain. “Why did people need to think she was dead? She was one of the best fighters we had, wasn’t she? If she’s alive, can’t she come back?”

Poe shook his head, the emotions he’d held in this past year threatening to spill, and he had to pull in a few breaths to focus. He wanted his friends to understand why he kept fighting, why living and winning were so fucking important.

“I had to send her away, not long before I met you, actually, Finn,” Poe smiled at him, “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I said goodbye, back on D’Qar. I had to ensure she was safe, even if I got captured. And no one could get her location out of me if I didn’t know it. So she’s out there, somewhere, and one day I’m going to ask both of you to come with me to meet her.”

He wiped aggressively at his face, hating the tears that spilled, and waited for their replies. At first, they were both quiet, regarding Poe with dawning comprehension, suddenly understanding exactly what he was saying.

Finn was the first to speak, his voice laced with sadness, “You haven’t seen her for over a year?”

Poe shook his head, and Rey reached out and touched his shoulder gently, her eyes softening, “You said you had to send her away...what does that mean, Poe?”

He gazed down at his feet for a moment, and when he looked up he guessed he must not have kept the emotion off of his face, as each of his friends looked at him in surprise, stilling entirely as they waited for him to reply.

“There wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could ever stop her from fighting. She was my second in command, and would still be to this day, only she-” He thought of you then, how you had long since delivered the baby, wondered how that had been for you, whether you’d recovered well. He knew his dad would be doing everything to keep you both comfortable and safe until Poe could come for you all. His heart still ached. “It’s a long story, I guess. But she got pregnant, and we both realized she couldn’t stay on D’Qar—which was the right call, because look what happened there. Leia smuggled her somewhere far away and didn’t tell me a single detail.”

Rey had brought a hand to cover her mouth in shock, while Finn’s grip on his shoulder had tightened substantially. They both stared at Poe, their expressions a mixture of sadness and joy that he felt every day.

“Poe, man, that’s incredible,” Finn breathed, shaking his head slowly, “You have...a family, you have-“

Poe cut him off with a small smile, “I’ve got a wife and a baby out there somewhere. They’re waiting for me to finish this fight and find them.”

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @deanandbobbymcgee @afootnoteinyourhappiness

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #night changes series #angst #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron smut #finn and poe #rey skywalker #oscar isaac #star wars day #star wars series

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet! (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it.

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet.

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?”

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest.

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!”

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to.

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov

#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Catfish Morales #frankie x reader #catfish x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

Text

All Too Well

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Contains spoilers from season 5 episode 2: Desperate Times

Summary: “Is that enough?”

Buck spits the words right back, more venom that Eddie could have tried to muster. He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t. If anything, he had tried to keep his emotions at bay the second Ana’s name lingered between them.

But he does.

Because if that’s enough for Eddie, why doesn’t he love Buck?

Or a look inside Buck's head during their panic attack talk.

(read on ao3)

Buck has never been one to hesitate before talking to his best friend, but he sees Eddie with an arm over his face, lying down for the first time since Ana and Christopher left, and his feet feel like they’re stuck to the floor.

He takes a few deep breaths, preparatory, anxiety-reducing, reminders that he’s breathing and that his best friend is hurting. He’s the one to make things better, to get Eddie through everything, so why is he hesitating?

“Hey, are you sleeping or just pretending?”

He knows the answer but is grateful when Eddie actually speaks.

“I was actually trying to until you interrupted.”

Sarcasm, that’s— good. Buck isn’t sure when sass and thinly veiled annoyance became good but he isn’t about to overthink it like he has been for the last hour.

“I’m exhausted,” Buck offers. He thinks that maybe if he shares something small, Eddie might be willing to give in return. “Uh, how are you feeling?”

Buck knows the answer to this question, too, and he finds himself secretly hoping Eddie answers in sarcasm so he can truly convince himself that things are okay, that his hesitation was unwarranted.

“Hot,” Eddie drawls, “I’m sweating out of places I didn’t know I could.”

Well, Buck did ask for sarcasm. He didn’t expect the glint of arousal to strike through him like lightning, though.

Or the quick jolt of panic as he rakes his eyes over Eddie’s body for nothing other than symptoms, an indication of what might be wrong because, for the first time since he’s met Eddie, he doesn’t know.

“Not like a cold sweat though, right? Any chest pains?”

Buck yearns to reach out, to feel Eddie’s pulse in his wrist, press a palm over his forehead to check for a fever. Hell, he would go grab a blood pressure cuff and EKG monitor from the ambulance if Hen and Chim wouldn’t yell at him. Buck considers it more than he should because he needs to know that Eddie’s really okay before he drives himself crazy.

Eddie just stares, unimpressed.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

Nope, Buck thinks, though he wouldn’t risk saying it out loud. After a long exasperated sigh, Eddie relents, “I’m fine, Buck.” Like Buck is actually supposed to believe him or something.

“People who are fine don’t go and see cardiologists,” Buck responds.

He’s clutching the clipboard in his lap a little too tight and he feels it. The way his knuckles burn, the way his fingertips crease the papers he’s been pretending to focus on all day. He hopes Eddie doesn’t notice. He hopes that he does.

Because Eddie is a lot of things, but he isn’t oblivious. That oblivious. Buck sighs.

“You need to tell me if something is wrong,” Buck finally says.

It’s not a request, it’s an order. One that he’s not sure Eddie will follow, but one that he hopes will get the point across.

Because Buck is scared.

He’s been terrified ever since Eddie’s blood splattered all over his face, since he watched the nurses shove a tube down his throat and make no promises. Since Eddie sat beside him, alive and well, and trusted him with the most important thing in his life—in Buck’s life.

That fear has only risen ever since he saw the way Ana smiled up at him during his welcome home and the way Eddie grinned right back, the smile Buck had too long convinced himself was his own. How comfortable she looked mixed in with his family, the family Buck started to consider his.

He’s scared because he’s never felt so much, so strongly for another person since— No, that’s not right. He’s never felt this way about anyone .

Eddie isn’t just another person to destroy him, another partner to tell lies and fall away. He isn’t going to be replaced in Eddie’s life just because he has someone else, someone who might know what’s going on in his head and doesn’t have to demand an answer.

Eddie is different, he always has been. And Buck has to hold onto that.

He does even when Eddie speaks again.

“It was a panic attack, not a heart attack,” Eddie sighs as he sits up. Buck knows he’s irritated but he can’t bring himself to care. He has always mildly irritated Eddie, why should this time be any different?

Actually, he finds himself gripping even tighter at the clipboard—at hope— when Eddie admits to it.

Panic. Of all the things Buck thinks Eddie is going to say, panic isn’t one of them.

“Since when do you panic?”

Then he considers the number of times he’s woken up in sweat-soaked sheets that felt too much like Eddie’s blood and tears in his eyes that he can’t seem to wipe away fast enough as they burn his cheeks. The pain of his sobs that still tear through him when he remembers the lost look on Eddie’s face in the firetruck, asking if Buck was okay like it mattered. The feeling of failure when Christopher’s hand patted softly at his shoulder.

“That’s what I said.”

Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes that looks like surprise, realization, but Buck pushes it aside. He can’t cling to hope too tightly. He knows how that works out for him in the end.

“I don’t panic,” Eddie huffs and then exhales, “except I did.”

“Okay, well, what triggered it?” Buck lists off the reasons for his own panic, expecting a match, but Eddie doesn’t stop him to agree.

He stops him to argue and it isn’t what Buck expects.

“That wasn’t it,” Eddie interrupts exasperatedly. “If I’m being honest with myself, I—”

When has Eddie ever been dishonest with himself?

“I think it was Ana.”

Ana. The name that spirals in Buck’s mind too often when he has to remind himself that Eddie isn’t his. The name that only passes his lips drenched in sarcasm or malice or a thin veil of hope when he doesn’t think too much about what he is saying.

The name that sparks nerves, anxiety, fear, dread, confusion—

Panic.

“Uh,” Buck stutters, hoping his heart beating out of his chest isn’t obvious, “I thought things were great with Ana.”

He watched Eddie kiss her on the cheek during her surprise visit, watched as Christopher hoped out loud for a new mom, a wife for his father. Sure, he didn’t react exactly how Buck had expected, but he didn’t seem to panic.

Or he did and Buck was too focused on his own misery to truly see it.

“She’s been a godsend through all of this, staying with Christopher, but… I think that’s what’s causing the panic.”

He sounds so sure, so confident that there couldn’t be anything else, which is the Eddie that Buck remembers. Buck isn’t sure it’s the Eddie he wants to see at this moment, though. He wants to see Eddie happy, Eddie making plans for his future, Eddie beaming at the thought of being in love with a perfect person, the one that Ana seems to be. He wants Eddie to feel the joy that comes from spending time with him, the way Buck does.

“Somehow we became a ready-made family and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

He says the other word that haunts Buck’s nightmares.

Buck always thought he knew what family meant, what family was supposed to be, then his parents stopped caring. Then Maddie left and he was all alone. He thought he had found his family at the one-eighteen soon after and he was happy. God, was he happy, for the first time since he could remember.

Then he met Eddie.

Then he met Christopher.

How defines his family is a little cloudy now.

“So what are you gonna do?”

And isn’t that the question of the day, the minute, the seconds that he spends gripping onto the clipboard in front of him to keep his hands from reaching, comforting, desiring.

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m just gonna stick it out. Ana’s been the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since Shannon…”

“Stick it out?”

Buck flashes back to his own attempt at sticking it out. Convincing himself that eventually, Eddie will realize what they mean to each other. His plans to stick it out even if it meant he wouldn’t be as happy as he could be, had pretended he deserved to be. He was going to stick it out because he would have Eddie in whatever way he could.

“That’s not how you talk about someone you’re in love with.”

Buck’s not sure if he’s talking to himself or Eddie anymore.

“My kid loves her,” Eddie shoots back, heat in his voice that doesn’t match the worry on his face.

Buck’s not sure if he’s talking to himself or Buck anymore.

“Is that enough?”

But he does.

He wants to grab Eddie’s shoulders, shake them until his brain wobbles into sense, kiss him and mutter the words back to him a million times over.

Because if that’s enough for Eddie, why doesn’t he love Buck?

Is that enough? Is that enough for you to love me back? Is that enough for you to spend the rest of your life with me instead? For me to stop pretending anyone else is going to be a better fit for me than you?

Because I love your kid more than anyone in the world, Eddie, and if that’s enough, then…

Why not me?

Eddie’s silent for a moment too long, a second prolonged into a minute, that might have lasted forever if Buck didn’t break it.

“Eddie, I’ve been Ana. I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who’s not all the way in.”

He thinks of his parents first. Then he thinks of Abby. Even Ali flashes through his tired mind.

But nothing lingers like Eddie. Nothing has ever lingered like Eddie.

“Deep down you know it and it hurts. It hurts worse than the truth.”

Buck’s lived through a lot of truths. His parents creating him for spare parts, Abby leaving him and not looking back, Ali unable to handle the one thing he loves most in the world— loved most in the world, past tense because there are two things, two people , that have that title now.

He’s lived through being in love with his best friend, his best friend’s family, his best friend’s son. He knows what it’s like to hold onto that hope that maybe, just maybe, someone won’t abandon him, someone won’t think he’s not enough. He has held onto the hope that someone loves him—not in the way he wants, but loves him just the same.

Briefly he wonders if knowing Eddie doesn’t love him back would hurt more than not knowing.

Buck shakes his head instead of saying any of his thoughts out loud.

“So if you don’t wanna hurt Ana, you owe it to her to be honest.”

Buck isn’t sure whether he’s talking to himself or to Eddie.

“It just feels like a lot, man.”

And Buck? He knows the feeling all too well.

#911 #911 spoilers #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #buddiefanfiction #911 fic #911 coda fic #my writing #once again #my brain won't stop being my brain #until ive written a coda #so here you go #YEETS #this is not necessarily a happy one #but its the most accurate one i think ive written

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

Home: chapter one

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is the first proper fic I have written in so so so long and i’m legit nervous to post it so pls be nice, plus feedback is always appreciated. there are more parts to come, I’m not sure how many yet but i’m going to try post regularly! message me if you wanna be tagged and i’m gonna try figure out how to make a masterlist :)

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The view from your window was beautiful yet haunting. Your eyes roamed over countless wildflowers, yet your stare would linger on a poppy or a Red Admiral butterfly and you were back there. You were tied down and crying, body and brain equally numb until another searing lash stripped your back of flesh, white-hot pain rushing through your body and forcing an involuntary cry to tear from your lips.

You quickly stood, wiping your hands down your skirt in an attempt to quell the memories surfacing, the ones you had desperately tried to supress since you had fallen. You quickly moved, all but running to the bathroom, needing to do something, anything, so long as it got you out of your head. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, looking exactly as you felt. The dark circles under your eyes from nights spent with hot tears flowing freely down your cheeks and into your hair and ears made you look ghostly, paired with the dull tone your skin had taken on, losing its natural glow. You looked as empty as you felt, a shell of the person you once were.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you quickly moved away, instead walking to the kitchen, the nausea from not eating overcoming you, yet the thought of eating just made you more nauseous. You found an apple at the bottom of a practically empty fridge and cleaned it softly, then used a blade to cut it into four, forcing it down, repeating the benefits it gave your body as you went, the basic information you had learned in your high school biology class, using the information to push through the sick feeling residing in your stomach, and instead focusing on the energy you desperately needed.

Your gaze drifted to the ajar door that led to your expansive garden, the cottage you lived in itself was small, but your garden was your pride and joy, your power sifting through all the plants in it, bringing them to life in ways of indescribable beauty, nearby animals coming to exist in harmony, safe under the care of their protector. But recently the usual vibrancy of the garden was dimming, the grass turning yellow and the plants wilting. There were no deer napping under bushes and barely any birds taking full advantage of the seed you laid out for them. You pushed past the door and into the garden, the plants brightening as you trailed your hands over their leaves. You found your favourite spot to sit in and dragged your fingers through the grass, smiling despite yourself as it visibly perked up, turning greener instantly. Your gaze trailed to a ruby throated hummingbird that had landed on the special feeder you left out for them, your breath hitching at the red colour, mind instantly returning to the dark, unable to tear your eyes away from the innocent bird.

The first thing you remember seeing was red, red water flowing like blood, red rocks beneath your bent knees, and your skin tinted red from dried blood seeping out of the wounds the chains around your wrists had inflicted on you. You sought to remember where you were, your mind drifting back to how you clung to Annabeth, your stomach aching from what must have been a broken rib, even as she was roughly pulled backwards, even as Percy desperately grabbed her, falling over the edge too, not quite reaching Nico’s shaking hand as he desperately tried to save you. You remembered been torn from their grip during the fall, a Fury hoping for a demi-god it could pick apart, you remember Annabeth screaming they would save you. But you don’t remember landing here, and you don’t remember the chains being attached to your wrists and ankles, or your shirt being removed, a choice you decided couldn’t mean anything good. However, you knew you would never forget the dark chuckle you heard behind you. Or the colour red.

Azriel didn’t know where he was. He knew he wasn’t in his world at least, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He was simply tired after a long mission far away from Velaris and his family and had tried to travel through the shadows to his home. Yet here he was, farther away from home than he had ever been and absolutely exhausted. He stepped out of his shadows and had to blink as the tallest buildings he had ever seen came into view. He absentmindedly took a step forward, then another until he was roughly shoved into, a man with a thick accent he couldn’t place swearing at him. His head whipping around as he got his bearings and moved to follow the direction more people than he could believe were walking until the crowd thinned out.

With less people present he slowed his pace, hands drifting to his pockets when civilians stared, old insecurities that never really left him rising to the surface, and instead took the time to admire the strange world he was in. the fashion in this new world was vastly different to his own, groups of girls congregating in tiny shorts and tight tops, next to groups in which there were girls in all black and boys in skirts. There were men and women dressed sharply talking quickly to no-one in particular, with hands pressed to their ears, there were people in rags begging for money and there were people dressed in ways he couldn’t even fathom to understand. By the time he reached the end of the street he was sure he had seen everything, and walked onto a more recognisable street, one with smaller buildings, unlike the magnificent glass structures, made from stone and wood and with friendlier faces behind stalls filled with food he recognized along with food he had never seen before.

He made his way through the market, losing track of time, the initial anxiety he felt seeping away, if he got here, he could easily return home, right? Instead, he chose to focus on the culture of this new world, determined to tell his family of the wonder he had uncovered, faintly hearing different languages from people’s conversation, and music coming from the open window of what he presumed was a coffee shop. He distantly wondered if they could see his wings, as no-one eyes lingered the way he had grown used to, in fact it seemed they couldn’t look at them, he presumed humans in this world simply had a natural glamour preventing them from seeing fae, that being said however, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot another fae.

Eventually he reached the end of the street and decided he should return home now in order to stop his family from worrying, searching for a shadowed alley so as to not draw to much unwanted attention to himself. He walked to an alley that he decided would do the trick, excited to share this adventure with his family, but stopped short when he came face to face with a girl in a short skirt with incredibly pale skin and fire-like hair leaning over a passed-out man, sucking blood from his neck. She looked up when he approached and he saw that her hair was not just fire-like but literally fire, and her eyes were glowing red, and angry. More alike her then came out of the shadows, he quickly counted six, sighing as he pulled Truth-teller out of its sheath.

Shit. I am not in the mood for this.

You strolled through your favourite farmers market in NYC, the colours that filled the stalls always bringing some cheer back into your life, along with the thought of home-made meals and your practically overflowing basket, filled with fruit, vegetables, bread, and other necessities, but not meat, not since the animals started speaking to you when you first arrived at camp, and nothing red, you still couldn’t face that.

You made a quick stop at your favourite coffee place, opting to get your drink to go, only making polite conversation when you had to, and smiling through any other interaction. You were soon ready to leave, basket and dusty blue corduroy jacket slung over one arm, cup in that hand and your phone that the Hephaestus cabin had adapted in the other, when you heard pained grunts and the cackle of a monster you wished you could just forget already from a nearby alley.

You gave a pained sigh, looking longingly at your coffee before chugging it and throwing the cup in a nearby bin, making your way over to the alley. When you got there, you saw an unnaturally dark alley filled with a gaggle of Empousa surrounding a tall, winged man who was fighting incredibly well but clearly hadn’t gotten the celestial bronze memo, as his blade was defective.

“Long time no see ladies” you said, smirking at the growls that tore from the back of their throats as they tore around to stare at you, recognition in their horrifyingly red eyes. “What no hugs, no happy reunions?”

“You.” The middle one snarled, lunging forward, only to be cut down by the thick, green vine you had grown, intertwined with strands of celestial bronze you kept wrapped around your wrists disguised as thin, looping bracelets, and exploding into dust which you nonchalantly wiped from your shoulder.

“Whose next,” you laughed as three of them leaped at you, two staying behind and keeping the winged man, who had taken to staring at you with an unreadable expression, occupied. You destroyed them quickly enough to see the man falter as one of the Empousa force their talon like nails into his side, twisting it and pulling it out. You rolled your eyes, moving to pick up his slack, wrapping the vine around its neck and pulling until it exploded into the fine dust. The man was on the floor now, clutching his side, as you stalked forward to the final monster.

“You know I really just wanted a chill day,” you complained,

“I remember you,” it hissed, smiling at you with razor sharp teeth.

You fought a shudder and forced the memories down, “I’m glad I made an impression.”

“They want you back you know, we never got to finish playing.”

You snarled and went to move, but it was too fast, and you realised your mistake in waiting too long as it released a piercing cry that must have notified monsters from miles away, “shit,” you muttered under your breath, killing it quickly and moving to the winged man’s side.

“Hey, any chance those wings are good at flying,” you asked, “cause we’re about to be swarmed and I really just wanna get home.” You put his arm over your shoulders and dragged him up, grunting under his weight.

“I-it, poison.” Was all he said, fully leaning on you.

“Shit, okay um,” you racked your brain for an idea, furrowing your brows when you saw monsters start coming around the corner, eyeing you like their favourite toy. The man looked up from beneath his thick, dark hair before cursing and tightening his grip on your shoulder.

“Just hold on,” he said,

“What? Wait no!” you shouted, clinging to his arm as suddenly you were engulfed in darkness, only to suddenly be blinded by bright, hot light, forcing your eyes closed.

When you opened them again, you were on a sandy beach facing an impossibly blue ocean. Your mouth fell open and you turned to ask the man some questions, (or yell at him you were yet to decide) just in time to watch him collapse, falling onto the sand with a soft thud, red blood steadily flowing out of his side, the blood draining from your face at the sight.

Shit.

You stared down at the man in disbelief for at least two minutes. He can shadow-travel. Is he a son of Hades? Gods know I don’t need another step sibling. Also, where the fuck am I? Why a beach? Is it LA? I might marry him if it’s LA. A million thoughts raced through your head as you stared at him, guessing that the unnatural darkness you saw before must have come from the shadows you could now see were surrounding him, protecting him from the light and, when you moved closer, you. From what you could see, he was handsome, if not slightly dead looking, thick, dark hair and a lean, muscular build. Wait dead looking? You cursed jumping into action, checking his pulse, relieved when you found it, before moving to his side using the knife you kept tucked into your boot to hack through the leathers he was wearing in order to reveal the gash.

It wasn’t wide but seemed deep as it was gushing dark red blood, you blanched and screwed your eyes shut at the sight, fighting the memories of your own dark red blood. You opened your eyes purposefully not looking at the cut as you used his torn leathers to put pressure on the cut and start dragging him up the beach to an area you could grow the thin vines you would need as makeshift stitches.

Azriel woke to an extreme discomfort in his side, in a place he didn’t recognise. He pushed up into a sitting position, wincing at the reminder of his wound, and looked around, finding himself shirtless, surrounded by trees on a sandy floor. A girl was sitting cross-legged, staring- no- glaring at him and he felt himself return a confused expression, vaguely remembering her as the girl that had killed the monsters that he could have sworn were completely invulnerable.

“What are you?” She asked suddenly, her bluntness taking him by surprise, but before he could answer she continued, “I mean I’m presuming you’re some sort of child of Hades, given you shadow travelled, but I don’t understand what else, cause you’re defo not part human?”

“Hades?” he asked, frowning at the words he didn’t understand.

“Yeah?” she asked slowly, raising her eyebrows at him as if it was something obvious.

He scoffed, “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Oh, is that so? No thank you or anything? I mean it’s not like I saved your life and I mean least of all I would expect an apology.” She was rambling as she stared at him in disbelief.

“An apology?”

“Yeah, for getting me stuck here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Fuck if I know,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, “I thought you know, I’ve done enough, I’ll let him find a cure for that poison on his own, I just wanna go home, so I decided lets get my bearings. I’ll find a high place and work out where I am, only to climb to the top of a fucking mountain and realise you got us stuck on a fucking Island!”

He slowly stood, bracing himself on a tree, as she remained sat, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. He shook his head, not needing to babysit this girl, and instead shot up from the ground, flying above the island to see she was in fact correct, there didn’t seem to be land for miles.

Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain went up his right side and he lost control of his balance for a second, all but plummeting to the ground.

“Yeah you shockingly haven’t healed completely yet,” the girl said moving to his side and pushing away his maimed hands from his wound, barely even glancing at the scars, “I have some ideas as to what will cure the poison, but if you want to fly away and leave me to die here, be my guest,” every word was dripping with sarcasm and he fought back a growl at her as she inspected his wound, were he saw he had torn the peculiar, green stitches.

He watched her carefully, not fully trusting her, as she inspected his stitches, furrowing his eyebrows when she significantly paled at the sight of his blood. “What scared of a little blood,” he instantly regretted the biting words when she snarled at him and put more pressure on the wound than was necessary, feeling slightly guilty given she had saved his life, but her attitude was infuriating, and he just wanted a hot bath and food.

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to stitch you back up, and then we’re gonna find a lake or some source of fresh water, you’re going to heal extremely quickly so you can take us back home and you’re not going to give me anymore shit? Kapeesh?” The stare she gave him could’ve rivalled his own in terms of intimidation, but instead of challenging her he just nodded, setting his jaw.

“Good. Now, nice to meet you, I’m (y/n),” she said reaching out a hand,

“Azriel.” Was all he said, meeting her small, soft hands in his rough, scarred ones, the difference in texture astounding him, still not entirely used to touch, and ignored the tightness in his chest when she offered him a cocky smirk.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acofas #rhysand #feyre #percyjackson #greek mythology #heroes of olympus

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