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storysprite · 1 year ago

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Ei’s Apocrypha - A Shogun’s Story in Stills: Inazuma

For a while now I always include a short character story to go with my Genshin fanart. This one will be my first installation of “Ei's Apocrypha”. I technically have other Ei stories that fall under this theme but I hadn't thought of the series at the time. The point will be to draw images/snapshots of her life, with stories that you could imagine happened in her past. Some of them will be a lot sillier and just for fun/AU like Ei and Furina on a girl's night out in Fontaine. Or in highschool with the other Archons. But for the most part they'll explore a past that Hoyo haven't really gone into much detail yet.

The story for this piece is below.

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Ei's Apocrypha - A Shogun's Story in Stills: Inazuma.

The records of the tales of the life of She who is Voice of Thunder and form of Lightning. House of Yae Revised Edition.

Editor's notes: Some parts of the ancient records could not be recovered so the text will show gaps that are incomplete. Requests have been sent to Tenshukaku for clarification. However, the Shogunate has decided not to provide commentary, in order to preserve the spirit of myth that is due and proper to divinity. As well as not give a settled answer on articles of devotion and tradition that have developed over time, which different sects of the Faithful hold in contradiction to one another yet with equal conviction and reverence.

(Part 1 of 8)

Even in the early days of her awakening, the Lady of the Sakura Woods was devoted to an art form that consumed much of her time. A pastime that reflected the nature of one born of both serenity and chaos. A paradox that embodied her soul. Perhaps that's why she was born as a {...}air.

She took to the sword for its discipline and singular focus. The mind and body are united in one goal: to strive for strong physical prowess and mental agility. Everything united. Later on, it was understood that what becomes one and indivisible cannot be taken apart and cannot be destroyed.

Ironic, then, forgoing the body to save the mind, she sacrificed not just her relationships but a true part of herself.

A true warrior's battle isn't first with their opponent, but with their own limitations. This art was a way to do so. Love of the art, not death.

When they were first awakened, the moment lightning conjured under moonlight struck its own reflection in the water, the light and the light of light were born. The irony is that the light of light would bear the name of {....}adow.

And yet, in herself, she was full of light and life. So why did the Heavens call her to fight, not to protect what she loved, but for Authority?

These thoughts weighed heavily on her mind. Especially today, as she wiped blood born of fire from her blade.

"She's here! I know it," said a little girl with pink hair, leading her friend deep into the woods at night. "If we're quiet we might even catch her singing."

"Akari, is my family even allowed to be here?" asked her frightened friend.

"Anyone who is looking for a safe place and wants to live in peace is welcome here."

"But is it safe?" asked the friend. "I've never seen a forest like this before. It seems like a strange place. Who knows what monsters are hiding here."

"Not anymore! All the danger has been chased away!" said Akari. "It's night, but the forest feels bright. We're alone, but haven't you felt like we're being watched over in a good way?"

(Part 2 of 8)

Her friend hesitated for a moment and looked around.

"I suppose," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. "But why?"

"It was the Lady of the Lightning. The Woman of the Woods," cheered Akari. "She chased all the monsters out and left sparking leaves and flowers all around to warn them not to come back."

Her friend got worried again. "What if she chases me and my family away?"

"Never! She's nice," said Akari. "When those bad men on the black horses came to our village, I ran here. They tried to catch me, but the Lady scared them away and played music for me to make me feel better when she came back like my momma used to."

The girls wandered around the forest a little more, chatting and laughing, till eventually they stumbled upon a lake that looked like it had a life of its own.

Standing in the midst of the water was a woman with long violet hair, with such an air about her that she seemed like an illusion of moonlight wiping red stains from her sword and lilac dress.

The water glimmered with an enchanted glow and rang with a low, sweet sound, as though its ripples were soft notes echoing through the night. Each droplet that wiped on her blade and robes would take away their red stains and instantly remove them without polluting the lake.

Once the woman's gown was entirely clean and her sword shone again like the evening star, she turned her head every so slightly towards the sound of a pair of little feet not too far away.

The girls knew they had been spotted. For it seemed like the light of the Lady's golden horns, like that Oni, be they real or enchanted ornaments, sought them out from the bushes where they hid.

"I think I remember saying something about children needing to sleep on time," said the Lady.

"But I don't feel tired anymore when I come to this part of the forest," said Akari.

"Hmm... Maybe I made this place too comfortable then," noted the Lady. For the forest, and this spot in particular were no ordinary place. But had long become an extension of her inner world, sealed off from the mortal lands around it.

A safe haven for her and her newly awakened {....} to preserve all the good things they discovered.

"Eventually, we'll keep adding to this place and make it a nice home for the people to come and rest," the Lady's {.....} suggested one day. A sentiment they both shared.

(Part 3 of 8)

But the Lady had a concern not shared by her {....}. "Will it remain a nice home if the people come with all their problems?"

This was a thought that bothered her for quite some time.

Until one day, when the Lady was taking a walk along the periphery of the forest, she heard the desperate cry of a child. It belonged to Akari who was terrified of some riders on dark horses. They bore banners in honour of "The Lord of the Invincible Flame," and by their bright torches lit during the day, it looked like they were about to make Akari their sacrifice.

So the Lady made the forest appear again on the mortal plane and, in so doing, became visible to Akari and her pursuers.

"Leave her be," she said to the now terrified men. They looked like they wanted to flee, but another fear kept them planted in place.

"We... we can't leave without her," said the men. "Our Lord demands His sacrifice."

"And who is this Lord?"

The men looked at each other. It was clear that they were wondering whether or not they had a chance against this strange horned woman who stood before them.

At once, they yelled in a strange tongue and threw orbs that lit up with smokeless fire in hopes of burning the girl.

But before the fires could reach Akari, the Lady stood between her and the flames. Fanning them away with one swipe of the katana that materialised in her hand.

The Lady moved so quickly that it startled the horses which threw their owners off at the terrifying sight of her glowing violet gaze. The horses ran as though commanded, leaving their rider's behind.

"You- you can't do this," cried the leader of the men. "If our Lord doesn't have this child, then our families will perish."

The Lady raised her blade till it was but a hair's breadth from grazing the man's face.

"I won't ask you again. Who is your Lord, and why does he want this sacrifice?" Her blade began to spark with the violet light of Electro, just enough to tickle the tip of the man's nose. But he knew in his heart that if a good answer was not forthcoming, that this power would do a lot more than that.

"The... the... Edict of the Heavens," said the terrified man. "The Gods of the land are to carve out their own space to reign and bring order as they see fit. That the powers of the world may be at rest. But as each ruling God grows in power, so too does their influence and reign until it encroaches on the domain of another God. Then the weaker of the two will have to submit to the power of the greater. Or both can share the authority, but in doing so become all but utterly vulnerable to one another.

(Part 4 of 8)

"Few Gods choose submission. Fewer still choose to open themselves up in such a way. So the only option left is either to flee or to fight. Our Lord of Flames grows strong from the fires of war and by consuming the flesh of those touched with the gift of fire. Particularly of humans blessed with this affinity.

"This girl has been greatly blessed with this power. Far exceeding that of any mortal we've ever known. And so, her sacrifice would greatly increase the power of our Lord. In exchange, he's promised to spare us and our families and greatly bless this girl's sister with the power of great smokeless fire, for her sister is the one who brought this Lord's attention to our village and sold out her own flesh and blood for this exchange."

Hearing these things evoked in the Lady feelings that she had never experienced before. Righteous indignation against this Lord of the Flames and the sister who would sell out their own flesh and blood for power.

And also great pity for the girl and her troubles.

But surprisingly, there was pity too for the men who, in a desire to save the lives of their families, were brought to such desperate acts.

"Where is this Lord of yours?" asked the woman.

"He dwells in the crooked tower, far to the west of here. But it's in our village that his Emmissary, this girl's sister, is holding our families hostage till we were able to find and retrieve this girl."

The Lady turned around to the little girl and knelt by her, reaching out to still her trembling form.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "No harm will come to you. Till I return, you can stay in my forest, where no danger can enter and the trees will care for your needs. I will go deal with your sister and then her Lord."

The little girl didn't know why, but she trusted these kind words that brought her tears of relief.

She also felt as though the branch of the Sakura tree behind her had come to life and was beckoning her to hurry into the forest. And so she did, after bowing, giving her deepest thanks to the kind stranger.

The Lady then turned to the men and said: "I extend this same protection to you and your families. But if you mistake that kindness for weakness, there will be no mercy found for you."

Then the leader of the men spoke. "But what can you do against our Lord? Even his Emissary commands the very power of the storms like a God. No mortal or minor spirit can stand against her."

"Bring me to her," said the Lady. The men were in shock, for she didn't hesitate for even a moment.

(Part 5 of 8)

"Did you not hear? The Emmissary-"

"Bring me. To her," repeated Lady. The men knew that it would not fair well for them if she had to speak thrice.

And so they agreed to take her back to their village.

For three hours, they walked with fear and trembling, not knowing what would take place. In their hearts, they said that perhaps this woman would be an acceptable sacrifice instead of the girl, and their families could be saved.

Then finally, when the men reached their village, they broke down and began to weep. For their families were tied to stakes. From the young children and babes to the elderly. Each was doused in oil and pinned to wood that was ready to burn.

The children cried as the elders in their family tried to reassure them. The villagers who witnessed these horrors about to take place stood silently and watched helplessly, terrified of the pink-haired woman in a long red cloak that stood in their midst and mocked the crying kids and their families.

"To think," she said. "That I grew up amongst all of you in the dirt that you call home. But now I'll crush you beneath my feet, but a mere step on the ladder of my greatness."

An aura of Electro energy radiated around her. And had one not known better, they could easily have mistaken her for a God.

Upon hearing the wailing men return, she spun around to mock them but stopped to glare at the stranger they brought back with them:

(Part 6 of 8)

An eerily beautiful violet-haired woman in an elegant robe with a Katana in one hand. Clearly enchanted with Electro. But not just enchanted, from where the woman stood, it felt as though that sword in the stranger's hand was birthed by lightning itself.

Who was this strange woman the men brought back with them? Perhaps she was a local witch or the daughter of a wealthy lord who was harbouring the sacrifice? Either way, the Emmissary did not look pleased and the violet aura around her flashed for a moment with envy's viridescence.

"Oh?" said the Emmissary. "Instead of finding that rat of a sister, you went to seek aid from... what is this thing? Some nobleman's daughter, perhaps by the looks of it. She had a few lessons from a samurai and now thinks she can take on the world? Or are you hoping she dies and that some petty lord will fight for you to avenge their daughter? Have you forgotten the power of My Lord?"

She stepped forward, and the ground beneath her feet trembled, bursting with violet light, bringing the villagers to their knees as though in worship. "Have you forgotten my power?" she added.

The men pleaded with the Emmissary to spare their families, even offering themselves in their place. But the Emmissary laughed. Laughed so hard and so high that it hurt their ears and bruised their hearts.

And on that day, for the first time since her awakening, the Lady of the Sakura Woods came face to face with true, undiluted depravity.

"You're the one selling off her sister for power?" she asked the Emmissary.

"And what of it?"

"You're not worthy of the title of sister," said the Lady of the Woods.

"Oh? And what will you do about it?" jeered the Emmissary.

(Part 7 of 8)

The Lady of the Woods drew her sword. "We'll have a duel to decide."

The Emmissary laughed. "A duel to the death won't go well for you!"

"To the death? I was happy merely to strip you of your power when you lost," said the Lady. "You don't need to lose your life."

Fury flashed across the Emmissary's face.

"You dare act like you have any power over me? Pathetic. You're nothing but a well dressed rat! In fact, I'll even let you take the first strike... if you can."

As she finished, a deep red violet aura surrounded her. The ground began to shake. And the skies above began to darken.

"Go on, you fool," dared the Emmissary.

"Just try it. But after your first attempt, I'll not show you any mercy. I will make you cry and beg to end your miserable life. But you will suffer to the bitter end and watch as I burn each and every one of these vermin alive. But it will pale in comparison to what's in store for you and my-"

Horror struck the Emmissary's heart. Before she could even finish speaking, quicker than she could blink, the Lady had gone and was now standing right behind her. Having moved through the barrier of the Emmissary's aura without detection or breaking it.

"Unlike you," said the Lady. "I am not a monster and have at least made sure that your death was quick and painless. Far more than you deserve."

The Emmissary looked around and couldn't believe her eyes. She was standing in place, yet at the same time she could see what looked like her body cut in half and lying at her feet. This body she was looking at seemed more solid than the transparent form she had now. And staring into her own face, she saw a pair of pink eyes looking back at her with a vacant stare.

"No...no... impossible... I can't be... I... I can't," the Emmissary whimpered. Then, as she began to cry, a strong and strange melodic wind came, wrapping itself around her, moving her presence away from her body till both the sight of her form and the sound of her wailing had utterly faded from world.

At first, the villagers were afraid, but seeing the stranger being gentle with them, reassured their hearts that she meant them no harm.

(Part 8 of 8)

"'Come, all of you, and rest in my woods, where you'll be safe from mortal peril and from the wrath of the Lord Fire who dwells in the West," she told them. The villagers soon gathered their things and were astonished at the enchanted forest that appeared before them. Even more astonished to find that the Electro energy that was used to torment them, was now a source of life, beauty and comfort.

After a few months, they fully settled in well and began to call their new home" Inazuma no Mori"; Lightning Forest.

Despite having led the people there, the Lady of the Woods seldom went to them in person. Instead, she left the day-to-day handling of their affairs and meeting with the people to her tw{... ...}ster, whom they would all continue to mistake for the Lady that saved them.

All of them except for one.

Akari approached the Lady of the Woods as she meditated in a quiet place, something that should not have been possible at this time. The Lady opened an eye, and seeing the girl approaching, she could only imagine that a mischievous kitsune that had gotten close to the Akari decided to share with her some of the deeper mysteries of the forest.

"I knew it," said Akari. "I knew there were two of you. I could just tell that you're different."

"Hmmm," said the Lady. "My {.....} is the nice and approachable one. She's better at dealing with the people."

"I think you're nice too. You just show it different," said Akari. "But maybe you can try show it some more, okay?"

Then the Lady of the Woods did something that she rarely did with anyone but her {....}. She smiled.

"Of course," she said. "I'll try."

Akari hugged the Lady of the Woods before scurrying off. An act that even surprised the Lady herself.

"Having a mortal body has its drawbacks and it can't last forever," her {.....} once said. "But it lets you experience a lot of little things that makes it worth having."

Perhaps this hugs was one such experience? The Lady thought to herself.

Either way, she would fight to protect the Forest of Inazuma and make sure it was a world where Akari, and many Akari's after her would always feel safe and happy enough to share hugs.

Despite wanting to treat her sword techniques like an art to improve her use of this new body in a way she finds enjoyable, the Lady would also raise her sword to answer the mysterious Edicts of the Heavens. To grow her power not by wicked means but by protecting those under her care. To keep them safe so they could fulfil their ambitions, dreams, and desires. To fight against any creature, mortal or divine, that would threaten the peace of Inazuma Forest. Even if it meant one day, when she was strong enough, having to stand against the Heavens themselves.

That Inazuma and its people may stand against the erosion impressed upon this world. To remain and flourish in it for all of time and eternity…

#genshin fanart #genshin impact #inazuma #raiden ei #raiden shogun #electro archon #raiden makoto #genshin art #genshin lore #Celestia #Asmoday #Sustainer of Heavenly Principles #Archon War #Teyvat

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years ago

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It's A Bitter Sweet Symphony And I Am Tone-Deaf - Ch 2

We're back with some classic Nano and Negasonic action because I love them and want Negasonic to suffer with the knowledge he's becoming Soft™️

HEFTY TW!! For sexual harassment and attempted assault, though the action itself never happens

Nano learns not to meet their heroes

Day 2: Cuddle (Nano & Negasonic) // AO3 Link

This was the greatest freaking day of Nano’s life!

As if it wasn’t an honor in and of itself to be invited by another hero for a team up, Nano had been blessed with a request from none other than Icepick to come tag along for a nightly patrol. Not to be confused with the other frigid superhero Captain Freeze, of course, who was leagues above both of them, but Icepick was at a solid enough ranking that Nano had never imagined in a million years would he want to hang out with them. Slowly but surely, Nano was making their own waves in the hero community, reaching out to make much needed friends and allies to further strengthen their own reputation.

And did it help to maybe secretly have an infamous villain behind your back to ensure you survived all these new, daring escapades to get your name out there? Probably a little bit.

Whatever, it was enough to make the living ice block of a man deem Nano skilled enough to breeze around the seedier parts of the city to keep an eye out for crime. Unlike the other critically acclaimed icy hero, Icepick’s powers stemmed from the fact that he was entirely encased in a sculpted layer of ice. There were various rumors about whether he was made of solid ice or if this was only a casing for human flesh beneath, but Nano wasn’t going to ask. It felt rude to be so invasive of his bodily anatomy, and that was not the first impression they wanted to give. Besides, Nano was perfectly content to see up close and personal how Icepick could form frozen shards out of thin air, sculpted like daggers and either adhering to himself for defense or sending them flying to pin down petty criminals.

Nano had no idea what someone so cool was doing reaching out to a little scrub like them. In the brief messages they had exchanged back and forth, Icepick had seemed interested in Nano’s ability to shrink at will (so long as they were suited up), but didn’t really ask any further questions about the science behind it. Which was good, because Nano had no idea how the fuck any of it worked to begin with, happy to rely on whatever Uncle Julio had programmed. Icepick had given off the impression that he was more interested in Nano as a…person. Not quite wanting to pry into their civilian life as Jamie, more like he wanted to know what else Nano liked to do aside from the badass stories that got around.

The notion was sweet to Nano, albeit a little out of left field. It was nice to meet those kinds of heroes that were just as interested in being a genuine friend as they were to have another acquaintance for back up. It was only a handful of conversations before Icepick was suggesting they meet up for a round of observation, particularly on the west end where a lot of drug smuggling liked to take place. Honestly, Nano was still so giddy at having someone as revered as Icepick reach out to them first that they snatched up the opportunity before the offer could be rescinded. Sure, Icepick was no League member or anything, but he wasn’t unknown in the local scene. There was plenty of talk surrounding him, some good, some bad, but rumors were like that for all heroes and villains alike.

Nano was just happy to hopefully start getting their name up in the ranks like him as well. The night had gone off without a hitch. Both of their fighting styles appeared to blend into one another that made them feel unstoppable when it came to halting junkie thieves and cornering drug operations until all the dealers could be apprehended for police custody. Nano was riding a new (figurative) high they had never felt before, almost as if it was them and Icepick cleaning up the scum of the city by themselves to make it a little less awful to live in. All in all, they must have captured at least twenty-three rookie criminals and shut down one mid-sized meth lab near the docks. Excitement and adrenaline made Nano want to keep at it all night, but Icepick was insistent that they take a break from patrolling when it was nearing two in the morning.

Fair enough. Nano slid down the alley wall to sit with a sigh, Icepick following suit to drop down next to them. He was a little closer than most people, yet Nano didn’t mind. They never hid the fact that they were a touch starved little bastard, and it wasn’t like Negasonic was going to indulge them with physical affection anytime soon. Not that they wanted him to, obviously. That would be weird. And maybe a little funny.

Nano shivered when Icepick’s frozen thigh bumped against their own, a shock of cold easily absorbing past the suit. It reminded them of being locked in the cryopod months prior, a feeling they didn’t like to recall. Even though they had made it out alive, with the added bonus of all their team members surviving and the operation being destroyed in the end, it was still too close of a call. They wanted to shift away, but Nano was too worried Icepick might take some sort of offense to that and stayed put.

“So,” Icepick started. “This was fun.”

Nano laughed, flashing a \ (•◡•) / text face on their visor. “Yeah, pretty productive, too. Thanks for taking me out, man.”

“Anytime,” a silence fell over them for a moment and Nano felt at peace just listening to the sounds of distant traffic. They were startled out of their thoughts a moment later when a freezing hand draped over their thigh, making them yelp while Icepick laughed. “Hey, I have an idea.”

“Yeah, okay, what is it?” As nice as it was to unwind in the midst of heroic ass kicking, Nano wasn’t one who liked to stay still and quiet for long. They needed to be up and moving to burn all this restless energy, not to mention Icepick’s hand was still…curled around Nano’s thigh. He probably didn’t mean to let it linger, but the freezing sensation was only making Nano hyper aware of how long he continued to touch them. Getting up and putting a few feet of distance between them was the perfect discreet excuse to shake him off.

Oh, come on, Nano, it’s not that serious. They had just spent all night parading around town as a perfect team, and now they were getting squicked out by a misplaced hand? Get a grip.

“Let’s play twenty questions,” Icepick said. “Kinda get to know each other a little better.”

Nano tilted their head. “What, you mean, like, secret identities and stuff? Shouldn’t you wait until the third date for that stuff, usually?”

Icepick quirked a brow, a sly grin on his angular face. “So this is a date?”

A ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡ face flashed rapidly on Nano’s visor as they shook their head. “No, no, oh my god, I-I was just making a joke!”

“Hey, relax, you’re good,” Icepick laughed. “I get it. Don’t get so freaked out, anyways. Lots of heroes hook up in costume and stuff, you know?”

Actually, Nano didn’t know, because they really had no desire to hook up with anyone in or out of spandex. They were willing to take the other’s word for it though. There were plenty of rumors of heroes and civilians alike claiming to have slept with Icepick, just as there were with members of the League and various villains. Some of the claims were vicious and some seemed more of a brag, so Nano assumed the truth was somewhere in the middle.

“Okay, twenty questions, sure,” Anything to change the topic back to something more lighthearted. “Um, what’s your favorite…color?”

Icepick snorted, giving Nano’s thigh a squeeze that made them squirm. “Come on, give me something better than that.”

“Fine, fine. What about…worst team up?”

“Shit, Megalodona, for sure,” Ah, a heroine who had the ability to shriek vibrations that could crumble buildings. As far as Nano was concerned, they had thought they heard only positive things when it came to working with her on a team. That despite her deafening power, she was quite soft spoken and polite, rather timid in comparison to the more showboaty heroes she hung around with. “She was such a bitch the whole time.”

Nano blinked, though it couldn’t be seen behind the helmet. “Really? What did she do?”

“Sorry, it’s my turn to ask a question, thank you,” Icepick teased. “Let’s see…who’s your villain crush?”

Christ, Nano swore their heart almost lept out of their chest. There was no way Icepick was trying to elude about knowing their affliction with Negasonic, was he? That wasn’t to say Negasonic was even remotely something as a crush, regardless of what their unconventional friendship might come across as to outsiders. It was one thing for heroes to assume Nano was some sort of double agent working with a renown supervillain this entire time, but it was another to think they were lovers on top of it. Nano could have gagged at the thought. Instead, they sputtered to catch their bearings. “My what?”

Icepick laughed at them again. “Or hero crush, I guess. C’mon, we all have a caped crusader we’d love to have rail us.”

Ugh, again with the sex talk. Maybe Nano was the weird one here for not wanting to indulge in the topic so much with a friend they had only gotten to know a few hours ago, but some people were just more open about it than others. It wasn’t fair to shut down someone else’s sex positivity just because Nano lacked their own interest entirely.

“I…don’t think I have one? I don’t know, no one’s really struck my fancy yet,” Nano shrugged. Yet meaning never. “What was the dumbest criminal you ever saw?”

Icepick hummed in thought. “Probably this guy trying to build a timed bomb who got the minute and hour hand mixed up and blew himself to bits. What’s your opinion on capes?”

“Kinda cool, even if it just looks like a giant blanket. Do you like fighting crime at night or during the day?”

“Night. There’s a lot more activity. Would you rather date a hero or date a civilian?”

“If I had to…maybe a hero? I feel like there’d be less drama with the whole ‘secret identity’. Which supervillain are you actually scared of?”

“Dr. Orion. Are you a virgin?”

Nano could not hide their scandalized gasp this time, fully jerking away from Icepick’s touch. “Wh-what?”

The other snorted. “What? It was just a question. I’m not, if that makes you feel any better.”

Nano couldn’t bring themself to find the appropriate emoticon to portray their bristling indignance. They could handle a few tasteless remarks about crushes and sex, they weren’t a prude after all, but the direction this conversation was taking was beginning to cross a line that they weren’t comfortable with. “On what planet would that make me feel better?”

“I just meant that I could, you know, teach you a couple things if you weren’t sure about it,” Oh. Oh no. Icepick leaned closer, his lack of body heat not being the only thing that made Nano’s blood run cold. “I like virgins.”

As if their secret super power was incredible speed, Nano was up on their feet to back away from Icepick’s advances. They could feel their throat tightening, a sweat prickling at the back of their neck when all the hairs stood on end. “Hang on, shit, wait, I-I think I gave you the wrong idea–”

“You’re not a virgin?” Icepick asked.

“No, it’s–! It’s not about, I didn’t mean, I’m,” Nano took a deep breath to ground themself and their thoughts. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to lead you on or something. I’m not…I’m not really into you like that. O-or anyone! It’s not just you!”

Icepick stood up as well and took a few, slow steps towards Nano to close the distance they had tried to put between them. For every additional half step Nano took back, Icepick took a full one forward until the shrinking hero felt their back press against the alley wall with Icepick mere inches away. His expression was difficult to read, especially under the glistening ice crystals that were shadowed by night. He didn’t appear angry with Nano’s rejection, but…they didn’t like how he was still finding it necessary to crowd their space.

“I can help with that,” Icepick said in a low, almost sultry voice. He reached a hand up to caress Nano’s neck, though his wrist was grabbed by Nano and shoved away. He frowned then, scoffing when the other put a hand on his chest in a weak effort to keep him at bay. “Don’t be such a tease.”

Who did he think Nano was teasing!? They felt as if they made it very clear a moment ago they had no desire to have any encounter of a sexual nature with Icepick! “Stop. I’m going home.”

“That’s no fun,” Icepick whined. “I can show you real fun.”

“No, thank you,” Nano snapped. There it was, there was their ‘no’ said clear as day and even politely. They were unsure how much more transparent they could be in regards to the issue at hand. “I’m not interested.”

Icepick used his free hand to paw at Nano’s collar, fiddling with the zipper and threatening to yank it down. “That’s what everyone says at first,” he purred. “And then they loosen the fuck up and love it.”

Being so close to their chest cavity, Nano wondered if Icepick could feel their heartbeat skyrocket and if he would take their thumping pulse the wrong way. Instinctive reaction took over the second Icepick tried to undress them, squirming against his hands and body as he tried to press them into the wall with his own being as a restraint.

“L-let go, let me go!”

“Fucking relax already, god,” Icepick took a hold of both of Nano’s wrists and forced them to their sides. “Don’t you wanna be a hero? How do you think they really get this popular? It’s a big pond, little fish.”

No. No, no, no. Nano didn’t want this. Nano didn’t know what they were supposed to do. They said no, they tried to walk away, and now they were just short of thrashing around to claw and kick and scream. What would that amount to, though? If they didn’t give into what Icepick wanted, he could ruin their carefully built up reputation with just a few untrue rumors. Who would everyone believe: a well known hero who’s saved the day more often than not, or some kid who just showed up a few months ago and already had serious allegations of drama under their belt? Whatever option they picked, Nano was going to lose something far too valuable for them to give up, yet they both felt like equally wrong answers. They knew better than to assume anyone would come to their aid these far deep into the east side, much less when crooks knew to mind their own business and police were too busy tying up the loose ends of a few drug busts.

Every fiber of their being was screaming at Nano to fight, to take on Icepick like any other villain who made indecent remarks about their body. Shrink out of his grasp, kick him in the balls, hide in a two inch crevice that he won’t be able to pry them out of with his normal sized hands. But they couldn’t. Their body was locked up tight, an unfortunate fight or flight reaction to have for someone with such a dangerous side profession.

“Please,” Nano tried again, still wriggling against Icepick while he tried to find the end of their embedded zipper. God forbid he tear their suit open like another infamous supervillain had done previously, this thing was a bitch to repair. “P-please, I don’t want this, I-I won’t say anything, just–!”

Icepick released the collar of their suit in favor of slapping his hand over the lower part of their helmet, as if he could muffle Nano’s actual mouth underneath. Ice fractals spread across the visor like a frozen spider web. “Fucking hell, do you ever shut up?”

“No,” a new voice answered.

Nano recognized it in an instant, but Icepick wasn’t as lucky. He wasn’t even given the luxury of turning around to face his demise before a gloved hand gripped the top of his frozen skull to yank him backwards and off of Nano. No sooner had he been out of reach to make the other collateral damage, a pulse of purple energy shot straight down into his dome like a fiery stick for a shih kebab. The direct contact from the heat, mixed with the previously built up kinetic power, was more than enough to break through the thick layers of ice to fry the vulnerable flesh and bone within. For a brief second, the openings of Icepick’s head lit up in a purple haze that reminded Nano of a jack-o-lantern.

Then Icepick’s head was released and he was allowed to drop dead between Nano and Negasonic.

A swirl of emotions were spinning so fast through Nano’s mind that they felt dizzy. There was the residual fear that was left behind from Icepick’s touches, now mingling with the natural terror that came from seeing someone be melted from the inside out at such close proximity. There was a disgusting wash of relief at having their attacker removed from their space, even if that meant he had been removed from this mortal coil as well. There was the desire to cry, to gasp for air they hadn’t realized was stolen, to hide away in shame.

Nothing happened, Nano had to remind themself. No touch had ever managed to make contact with their bare skin, even if they could feel every hungry sensation through the fabric of their suits. That didn’t count. They refused to believe that counted as anything. So why did they feel so sick to their stomach?

“You…killed him,” Nano whispered. Their mouth felt dry, making it impossible to swallow the lump that was still lodged in their throat.

Negasonic’s purple eyes flicked between Nano’s trembling form and the still sizzling corpse that was sprawled on the filthy alleyway ground. “Yes.”

“You killed a hero,” Nano tried again. If there had been any other precursor to this, they would have been kicking up a fit with the supervillain for doing something so recklessly violent, especially since a majority of the time he did so without a second thought. Negasonic must be thinking he was going to be subjected to another tirade on morals and higher grounds because he clenched his jaw, his only subtle tell that he was beyond pissed.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Negasonic snapped. “Heroes don’t pull those kinds of stunts and you know it. What would you have preferred I done? Not intervene? You realize it’s my interventions that keep you from a body bag.”

The words were ringing in Nano’s ears, but the meaning behind the sounds were washed away by the blood rushing to their face. Negasonic was annoyed and they really couldn’t care less right now. Normally, they’d be quick to backpedal and apologize to some extent, anything to ensure they still had the supervillain to rely on. Because lord knows they need it.

Nano hadn’t even realized Negasonic was still reaming their ungrateful ass, which was unusual on its own as he was not typically a man of many words. Very blunt and straight-to-the-point words, yes, but once he got his point across he rarely explained it any further. He must not think the hero was fully absorbing his lecture and he was right. To be fair, though, most of these kinds of talks went in one ear and out the other to begin with. Nano just liked being able to talk to somebody, even if they were being told they were an idiot for drinking three energy drinks at seven in the morning and then wondering why their chest hurt.

“--can’t just freeze up like that.” Oh, right. Still talking. “That’s how you get a bullet between the eyes, if you’re lucky. It really is a miracle you’ve survived this long on your own. God help you the next time I go out of town, I guess, since I always have to clean up your messes.”

Yeah, yeah, Nano wasn’t the greatest superhero in the world, they’ve heard it a million times before. It was like Negasonic was trying to both encourage them to better themselves as a self proclaimed protector of the innocent and also hang up their secret identity for good. In the same vein, no one was forcing Negasonic to hang around them so much but himself. He didn’t have to fix Nano’s broken tech and upgrade it, or step in when fights got a little too overwhelming, or drag Jamie out of their apartment when they hadn’t seen the sun in over a week. This was just as much of his problem as it was Nano’s.

But Nano wasn’t focused on that as of now. Nano was only thinking about the events that continued to loop through their immediate memories, their body recoiling under the phantom touches. “He was, h-he tried to…he…”

Negasonic stopped his speech to sigh instead. “Yeah, kid, I know.” And thank fuck for that, because Nano’s subconscious was not prepared to process the events that just unfolded with any unsavory terms yet. The supervillain was prepared to let this be for now, seeing as the immediate threat was taken care of and Nano was no longer in any real danger. “You need to learn defensive combat instead of just avoidance, it mi–”

The supervillain was turning to leave and Nano felt a new surge of panic shock their entire body into action. They didn’t want him to go, they didn’t want to be alone right now with only their thoughts and Icepick’s body to keep them company. Before Negasonic had the chance to finish his closing thoughts, Nano pushed themself off the wall to careen straight into the older man. Their helmet smacked against the hard chest piece of his armor, but they didn’t care as they still attempted to bury their already concealed face against him. Their arms coiled around his wider body, squeezing like he might slip away. If he wanted to, Negasonic could easily shove the small hero off of him, or at the very least zap them right on the spine for daring to touch him so brazenly.

However, it appeared the supervillain was actually taken by surprise when Nano launched into his arms if his silent gasp was anything to go by. Negasonic didn’t immediately reciprocate the embrace, but Nano didn’t care. They just wanted to be able to feel a warm body again, one that they wanted to touch and one that they trusted beyond a reasonable doubt would never try to hurt them in such a way. How ironic that Nano felt more at peace with a world renown supervillain with an impressive (surely that wasn’t the correct word) kill count than with a beloved superhero.

Seconds ticked by before Negasonic hesitantly wrapped his heavy arms around Nano, giving their trembling shoulders a squeeze.

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re fine.”

Nano wanted to believe that because Negasonic never lied. He made a noise of surprise and the hero felt him flinch to hurriedly catch the rapidly shrinking hero before they fell from clinging to his chest. They hadn’t even realized they triggered the suit’s function to do so, only caught up with the need to be fully encased by the comfort being given to them. All they wanted was to be surrounded by Negasonic’s warmth and voice, anything to drown out all the sensations that were forced upon them minutes prior. They wanted to hide away against him, hidden from any other dangers that lurked behind popular faces, safe with the knowledge that Negasonic could strike them down before they laid another unwanted finger on Nano.

“Christ, Nano, don’t do that,” Negasonic huffed. His voice rumbled all around them now as their miniature body was cupped between two hands to his chest. Even through the gloves, Nano could feel the tingling heat of recently dispelled energy stored within his fingers. Those same fingers brushed against their back as Negasonic shifted to be able to hold them with one palm to keep his other hand free. “I’m going to drop you one of these days.”

That was fine. Nano knew he was always going to catch them.

#g/t #macro/micro #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t ocs #g/t fluff #g/t fearplay #g/t angst #tw assault #g/t writing #size difference #g/t superheroes #oc nano #oc negasonic #batman rip off #at some point this became a vent for myself and i will not apologize (:

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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years ago

Text

Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #resident evil village oneshots #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

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brattata · 4 years ago

Text

Windows

Crossposted from my AO3 account, if it seems familiar. Mature content below, so minors please DNI!

Joseph's been putting a lot of work into your real estate business, and it's really starting to pay off. You wanted to congratulate him by christening his fancy new desk in his fancy new office, but things don't go according to your plan.

Joseph Joestar x AFAB reader (no female pronouns used, but reader wears feminine clothing)

CW: Semi-public sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, creampie, Joseph says “cunt” one (1) time

“It’s impressive,” you admit, leaning in for an almost-kiss.

Instead of closing the distance, Joseph grabs your hands and pulls you up from the couch excitedly, leading you over to the far wall. “You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he teases. “Watch this.”

He reaches up to press a subtly disguised switch, and it becomes apparent that the “wall” is actually a massive floor-to-ceiling window, slowly revealed from behind the dark wood paneling.

“Wow,” you whisper, pressing your hand to the cool glass. Beyond it is the Manhattan skyline, breathtaking from 15 stories up. The brightness of the city obscures most of the stars, but the thousands of twinkling lights and glowing windows are beautiful in their own way. There are people behind some of those windows, you think – working late, or maybe enjoying time with their families. Maybe taking in the view with the person they love most, the way you are now.

Joseph hums a kiss into your hair, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His comforting weight against your back and impish smile reflected in the glass make you feel so warm inside, your heart could burst.

Until one of his hands slips beneath your skirt.

“JoJo!” you gasp, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Oh come on, don’t be coy!” he laughs. “The champagne, the perfume…that skirt, with no nylons underneath.” His smirk is undeniably sexy, but that only makes you more annoyed. “You didn’t come here for a tour of the new office.”

“No, I wanted to celebrate with you!” You pause. “In your new chair, or maybe on top of your new desk. But not in front of a window, Joseph!”

“Why not?” he asks, almost sounding genuinely perplexed.

“Someone could see!”

“Who?” he laughs again. “It’s late. No one’s watching. Even if they were, they would be too far away to see our faces.” Now he’s trailing kisses down the back of your neck, shameless as ever in exploiting your weaknesses. “And besides, I think you like an audience.”

“I-JoJo, what-,” you splutter, scandalized and yet burning at his accusation.

“I noticed last summer at Grandma Erina’s,” he replies, letting his lips brush against your nape. “When Smokey walked in on us. You remember, right?”

How could you forget? Even now, the memory has your insides twisting with a complicated emotion you can’t quite place. Like embarrassment but sharper, hotter. Exciting.

“I’d never seen you make that face before. Not to mention the way you held onto me…and well, held onto me.” Joseph pauses from tormenting your neck to flash you a dirty little grin. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

“O-oh, Joseph, I’m. I don’t know,” you trail off. Immediately his chin comes to rest on top of your head, one arm draped around your shoulders and the other curling soothingly around your waist.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, baby,” he murmurs. “I only want to make you feel good.”

You take a moment, studying your feelings and Joseph’s gentle (but hopeful) expression. Then you unfasten your skirt.

Immediately Joseph lets go of you with a little whoop and a fist pump before tearing into his shirt and tie.

“God, you’re lucky you’re handsome,” you scold him good-naturedly, giggling a bit at his childishness. You kick the skirt away, opting to leave your kitten heels on. Next comes your blouse, which you unbutton slowly for Joseph’s benefit. His shirt is gone, along with his belt. He palms himself lazily over unbuttoned pants, watching your fingers work.

“Don’t forget heroic, a genius, and—“ his bragging is cut short by a low whistle as your bra is revealed, a delicate little number formed of translucent lace. Once you let the blouse fall he can fully appreciate the matching panties, cupping your ass nicely but leaving very little to the imagination. “Baby, you did come dressed to celebrate.”

When you reach back to undo the bra clasp Joseph stops you, lips back on your neck and hands rubbing your shoulders. Instead you tug the cups down until your breasts spill out, earning you a hissed “Niiice” before his hands quickly replace the lace. The contrast is delicious – warm, calloused flesh on one side, smooth and cool metal on the other. Both options have your nipples pebbling almost instantly, Joseph kneading your tits with reverence as if this is a rare treat rather than something he gets to do almost every day.

It is kind of a special occasion.

Before long his right hand drifts down your stomach, slipping deftly into your underwear. You’re so slick he can barely keep a finger on your clit, forcing a whine from you and a low groan from him. “Holy shit, you’re wet! The thought of putting on a show for some strangers gets you this worked up?”

“N-no, I’m excited for you, JoJo,” you coo, hips undulating along with his fingers. “It feels so good when you touch me.”

“Hmm, seems like I barely need to touch you at all,” he replies, back to his smug grin. With little warning he slips one finger inside you, then two, then three. There’s the tiniest sting, but you take them all easily. “See? You’re already ready for me.” It’s hard to argue when his strong, thick fingers are knuckle deep inside you and your pussy is still aching for more. “Since you want it so badly, guess it’s time to stop playing around and have some real fun.” The fingers are gone. “Bend over, baby.”

With a shaky sigh you do as you’re told, bracing your hands against the window and sliding your legs apart. You can’t resist wiggling your hips a little, asking for a playful swat from Joseph’s right hand. His left hand is suddenly gripping your ass, thumb spreading your lower lips open even wider and sweeping the gusset of your panties aside. You hear a zipper and rustling fabric, but instead of his cock, it’s a puff of warm air that caresses your pussy, followed by a firm stroke of his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” you wail, leaning your forehead against the glass.

“Not until you beg for it, my love,” Joseph chuckles. “I can eat this sweet pussy all night! Make you come until you’re crying for my cock!”

“JoJo!” you moan, desperately. You want to ask what’s gotten into him, but he’s sucking hard on your clit and you can barely hold a thought. He’s always been vocal during sex, but his babbling is usually sweet, not this demanding or…filthy. You love your adorably enthusiastic Joseph, but this version is also thrilling, and it makes you wonder if you’re not the only one excited by imagining eyes on the other side of the window. He’s slurping your pussy so loudly you know it’s deliberate, groaning like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

And for another reason, you realize, when you look at your reflections and see him vigorously stroking his cock. It’s the sight that carries you over the edge: Joseph kneeling with his face buried between your legs, so turned on that he can’t help but touch himself. You come with a strangled squeal, and Joseph gives your clit an affectionate peck as if to say “good job.” He’s gripping the base of his cock so hard it looks painful.

“Fuck me, JoJo,” you gasp. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

You rest for a bit against the window while Joseph stands and adjusts his grip on your hips. Now there are two thumbs spreading you open completely, which you might protest as embarrassing if you weren’t turned on beyond all pretense. You suck in a breath when the head of his cock finally kisses your opening, only for him to stop before taking the plunge.

“Look at that. It’s show time after all.” Blearily, you lift your head to see a silhouette in one of the windows in the office building across from you. Whoever it is has dimmed their lights so you can’t see much other than a vague shape, but it’s easy to imagine a strange pair of eyes staring into yours as Joseph sinks deep with one thrust.

The sudden stretch and the arousal have you coming again, softly this time, an aftershock of the pleasure you got from Joseph’s tongue. He leans his weight against your ass and holds still, luxuriating in the way you ripple around him, like you want him even deeper. “Fuck, this is good! We should’ve done this sooner!”

“Yeah,” you agree dreamily, grinding back against Joseph while you wait for him to move. He pulls back and thrusts hard, making your palms squeak against the glass.

“Maybe-“ he grunts, “maybe we should try it again on Monday morning. I’ll brace you against the doorway of my office, just like this, and we can show everyone that sexy face you’re making. Show them how hard I make you come.”

“But I don’t want them to see,” you murmur back. “Those things, I only want to show them to you, JoJo.”

“S-shit,” he gasps. “Fuck, you’re so hot. So beautiful!” He has a hand around your breast again, lips, tongue, and teeth trailing across your neck and shoulders just the way you like. He presses his face next to yours and gently tilts your chin up, making you look out the window again. “It looks like our new friend agrees.”

Across from you, the silhouette’s arm is moving back and forth. You can’t really see what’s happening, but you know.

“You’re so sexy, you’ve got him jerking off in the middle of his office,” Joseph laughs breathily. He slips two fingers between your parted lips, stroking your tongue in time with his thrusts. “Who could blame him? Watching those gorgeous tits bouncing above that pretty lace. Imagining his cock is the one pounding out your hot little cunt.”

You stiffen up a bit at the vulgarity and Joseph kisses your temple, asking with his eyes if what he said was okay. “Yes, yes, fuck,” you moan around his fingers, bracing against the glass to shove yourself into his cock, demanding deeper, harder, more. Joseph tilts his head to kiss you hungrily. His wet fingers go straight to your clit where they rub and pinch until you’re whimpering into his mouth, near tears.

“He can’t even hear how wet you are,” Joseph continues. “So wet you’re dripping all over the nice new carpet.”

You laugh a little at that. “As if you’re not desperate to make an even bigger mess, JoJo,” you tease back, lips touching as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Will you clean me up, baby? After you make a mess of me?”

“Fuck yes,” Joseph groans. “I’ll do anything, anything!”

“Come for me. Come inside me. I need it so badly, JoJo.” Whether it’s a plea or a command, Joseph can’t help but obey. He presses his face between your shoulder blades and one lightly Hamon-charged fingertip to your clit, and you’re thrown off the cliff of a breathless, whiteout orgasm. It feels like every muscle in your body is clenching for Joseph’s cock. He’s scorching hot and huge inside you as he fills you up, and you wring him for every last drop. He slowly pulls out and helps you right yourself, turning your back to the window as he leans down for a kiss.

“That was amazing. I love you.” Before you can return the words he’s already sinking to his knees, nudging your legs apart so he can fit between them.

“Joseph, I’m tired,” you demur, stroking his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“But I still need to clean up,” he insists. When he grins at you like that, you can’t say no. “I’ll go slow, baby, I promise.”

He starts with your inner thighs, looking very pleased with himself when he gets a few giggles out of you from the ticklish sensation. When his mouth finally reaches your center it is slow and soothing. He’s not trying to force another orgasm from you – just enjoying you, caring for you, showing his love. You don’t come by the time he’s finished, but you don’t need to. You just want him to hold you, so he does.

When you reach the couch he plops down on it, keeping you cradled in his lap. He takes off both of your shoes and stretches out on his back (as much as he can), draping you across his front. He’s warm, and you can feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and even though you know you’re going to be ungodly sore tomorrow, right now everything feels perfect.

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest.

“Anytime, baby,” he chuckles warmly. He smiles up at you, looking happy but not as content as you feel.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, a little worried. “It was good for you, wasn't it? Not…weird?”

“Of course, it was great for me! Don’t look at me like that!” He reaches for your cheek, rubbing at the corner of your frown. “I was just, ah,” he clears his throat, adjusting your position so that you’re more beside him than on top of him. On the way down, your leg brushes what is unmistakably a semi-erection already straining against his briefs. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier, about ‘celebrating’ on my desk.”

“Absolutely not,” you groan, nuzzling against his shoulder, eyes already closed.

“Your next line is: ‘Maybe tomorrow, JoJo!’”

“Nice try.”

#ao3 crosspost #jjba x reader #jjba x reader smut #joseph joestar x reader #joseph joestar x reader smut #these tags are kinda dry but idk what else to say :/#my writing tag

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keilemlucent · 5 years ago

Text

teacher’s pet

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~3.2k

Keigo is a remarkably good listener and fast learner, especially when you're involved.

warnings: virgin keigo, gooey ass, soft, sweet smut, not too mention the softest keigo i’ve ever written probably?? first time oral baby, also praise kink

---

shoutout to @la-saffron for the lovely headcanons and feral shit that inspired this fic. and thank you to the wuv @keiqos for beta reading. enjoy some soft, gooey, smut. this fic is, at its root, keigo finding the clit. that’s the plot

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“J-just like this,” Your voice was soft and breaking, spit sticking in your throat. Touching yourself in front of Keigo like this should’ve been somewhat intimidating, especially with the rapt focus he had on every movement of your body and breaths. But, surprisingly, watching the way he nearly drooled at your form just made you hotter.

When Keigo asked to date you, you’d never expected he’d be a virgin. But, with his work and his mutations, he’d never had sex or the opportunity to do so properly. Truthfully, he never even learned much beyond his own base needs to blow his load with his fist.

But, you were more than a willing teacher.

Laying on your back atop his silken comforter was heaven, head propped up ever so nicely by a pillow that Keigo had placed under it. The night had started off with slow touches and soft kisses, all things the two of you had done before. But, it progressed to a little planned show-and-tell.

You were splayed before him, naked over his sheets with your legs spread as he kneeled in between them. For all of his gusto and readiness, his wings were folded against his back, timidly tucked away as he took you in, gently palming his cock.

Every motion of yours seemed almost lazy. Fingers slowly pinched your nipples while your other hand played with your sex at a tortuously relaxed pace. All the while, you kept your voice low and liquidy.

“Right here?” You circled your clit, back bending the slightest bit with the hums of heat it sent up your spine. “This is my clit. It feels really good if you touch it nice. It’s very sensitive though.”

Keigo nodded like the good boy he was, enraptured by you.

He had beads of sweat racing down his temples, hair mussed by his own touch. Other than gently pumping his own leaking cock, his only other moment was to occasionally fist his hair, a whine dribbling from his bitten lips.

This must’ve been scary for him, truthfully. All the vulnerability of not only being bare for someone else but them being bare for you.

You had seen a bit of fear when Keigo had first started to help you disrobe, how his touch got so gentle, feather-like against you to the point of raising gooseflesh. He’d stared so cautiously at you when you first slipped down onto the covers. Despite the tenseness in his shoulders, he traced up your bare body with shaking breaths and clammy hands.

When you had parted your legs around him, you watched how the gold of his eyes was eaten up by his widening pupils. His mouth had fallen open, cock twitching cutely in his boxers.

But now that you two were in the heat of the moment? He was a perfect student despite his usual sarcasm and crassness out of the bedroom.

“And here,” You slipped a finger into your sex, feeling a bit of slick puddle around the digit. Keigo’s nostrils flared, wings twitching. “This is my pussy, where your pretty cock goes when you fuck me, right, Kei’?”

He nodded, thumbing over the head of his cock, smearing preek. His voice shook with his own tension and deep-focus, “Y-yeah.”

You smiled at him, shifting one of your legs to give his thigh a soft bump, “You’re doing so well, baby. You wanna know more?”

“I mean, yeah, but... I haven’t really done anything,” Keigo spoke with some remorse, averting his gaze from your body to somewhere far off. The corners of his lips tugged down, his arm going to guard over his chest as though it could protect him from his own internal fear.

That insecurity, that look of near humiliation just wouldn’t do.

“Keigo.” You spoke to pull him from his thoughts. It roused him well with the way he turned back to you, eyes widening as you slowly pumped your finger in your cunt. “You’re gonna do so much. I can’t wait for you to make me feel good. Can you help me?”

Oh, the call to help others was intrinsic and embedded in Keigo’s psyche.

One of his half-taloned hands drifted to rest on your thigh. His expression went doughy, softening at your even softer words, “I can. I promise.”

You beamed at him with everything you had.

“Thank you. I know you can. God, Keigo,” You shook out a breath, withdrawing your finger from your sex. “Do you want to taste?”

Oh, the look he gave you. He may have been avian, but with the light in his eyes and the way his tongue dropped from his sweetly parted lips made him look far more like an obedient puppy than a bird.

You smiled at him, tilting your head as you slid your fingers into his mouth, pressing down to rub your digits on his tongue.

“See how nice I taste? Imagine how good that will be all around you when you eat my cunt.”

The thought had Keigo groaning around your fingers, squeezing his cock. His fist jerked from balls to tip as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Without even instructing him, he sucked at your fingers, lapping at them perfectly. You let him lave over them, his tongue dipping anywhere it could savor you.

You pulled the digits away, admiring the way they glistened with his spit. You brought them down to your cunt, rubbing over your labia.

“Before we fuck, you gotta make sure I’m ready,” You told him, slowly pressing two fingers to your entrance. You could certainly go faster, but this was ‘educational’. “Gotta stretch me out nice, make sure I’m all wet. Well, that isn’t too hard with you around, is it?”

You send him a quick wink and marvel as he turns cherry red.

“And this is important, sweetheart,” You called his attention fully, slowing your movements. “There’s a little spot inside me, that if you hit it just right, will make me feel so good.”

You were just about to crook your fingers when Keigo stopped you, stilling your hand with his own. He gently tugged your wrist, bottom lip pushed out in a pout.

“C-can... I try?” He was so tentative, looking shyly at you as you were so vulnerable beneath him. “I w-want to help you feel good.”

“Of course, ‘Kei. You’re going to do so well.”

He shuddered at the praise.

You took your fingers from your cunt to your lips, sucking off your own slick. Really, it was just to watch the way Keigo’s thighs clenched as you did.

You flickered your eyes lower as you took your fingers from your mouth, wiping them on your hip, “Go for it, I’ll tell you what feels good and what doesn’t. Make sure you use the hand we clipped your nails on, okay?”

Ever diligent, Keigo genuinely checked his hand to make sure it was the correct one, talons tamed for the specific instruction that was occurring.

With all the grace and tenderness he could muster, Keigo gripped your thigh, massaging the muscles on his way to your cunt. It was cute, the way he fell forward as he did, ending up propped up on his elbows between your legs. There was pure awe in his eyes as his finger reached the apex of your thighs.

He looked up at you, hesitantly.

You nodded, shooting him a smile before settling a hand on his shoulder to rub at the tension he was still carrying in his shoulder.

Gingerly, Keigo let his fingers drift from your hole to your clit, grinding the pad of his thumb down on the puffy nub. Keigo was a good student, truly, as his pressure and speed were enough to make you drop your head back on the pillow and let out a purely sinful moan.

He paused.

“Good?”

His voice was so sweet.

“So good, ‘Kei. Keep going.”

He obeyed dutifully.

His touch slipped downward, teasing the entrance before slipping one finger in. He moved slowly, but not in any way that was lazy. With the quivering of his feathers, you could tell Keigo was literally feeling the way you reacted to him. Every twitch and spasm of your cunt was his guide, as were your quickening breaths.

He pressed another in, shortly. Watching them coat with slick, slowly fucking into you again.

“Good boy, ‘Kei. You’re doing so well for me.”

The praise made his eyes roll back in his head.

You smirked.

“Now, baby,” You called his attention again. “To hit that special spot, all you need to do is curl your fingers.”

He frowned, flattening himself to the bed a bit more, “That seems... Very easy.”

You couldn’t help chuckle, carding a hand through his damp tresses, “It’s not hard, once you know what you’re doing. Why don’t you try for me?”

Oh, did Keigo obey so fucking sweetly for you.

You never thought that someone simply softly fingering you, so fucking kindly and gazing at you so reverently would turn you on as much as it did, but god, did it.

Keigo’s fingers curled in your cunt, every movement precise, but not quite enough.

“A little more, baby. It’s a bit harsher of an angle than you think.”

Keigo’s brow pulled down as he bit his lip. You could feel his hot breath over your cunt and inner thighs as he crooked his fingers just right.

The cry that rang from your throat surprised both of you. Being gently touched like this, on your insides, was making you turn to liquid before him. Your nails dug into his scalp as you lightly rolled your hips into his touch.

Your legs tensed around him as he massaged at the spongy spot. With your head thrown back on the pillow, you couldn’t see his face.

But holy fuck, could you feel it.

Keigo, apparently, decided to take some of your lessons for a spin. The searing breath you’d been feeling before was suddenly very close to your sex, just before you felt the light lap of his tongue against your clit.

“Oh fuck, Keigo!” You fisted the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t think him kitten-licking your cunt (just once) would get you this worked up, yet you were sweating and needy for him.

“Am I doing this right?” Keigo drew his mouth away, pressing a sugary kiss to your thigh instead.

You nodded, breathing a bit harsher. You needed more.

“Yes, Kei’. Fuck,” Your voice trembled. “Do you want to keep going?”

There was a deliberate pause.

Keigo rose up from his spot between your legs, his actions met with a little whimper that was caught in the back of your throat.

He slid over you, straddling your hips and placing his hands on either side of your head.

You stared up, now wide-eyed yourself.

Keigo had never looked this intense before. There was still something so fucking tender and raw about how he looked at you, a sweet smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to your nose, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. You cupped his jaw, tilting your head to get more of him.

He pulled away, his breath coming in little puffs as his wings slowly spread out behind him.

“Can I please make you cum? Please?” Keigo asked so sweetly, kissing down your neck. “Let me make you feel good.”

How quickly does the master become the student. Or, maybe receiver.

All the same, thoughts of training Keigo were gone. With the smoldering look he was beaming you from his amber eyes, all you could do was give him a breathless ‘yes, please.’

Keigo was smitten under your command.

He slid down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. Nothing harsh, nothing that could hurt or be painful. Each movement was matched with a flicker of a grin from him with the way your body jumped with every touch.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” You lavished him in praise as he drifted down your body, settling between your legs once more.

This time, he gently hiked your calves over his shoulder, nestling between your thighs and adjusting as he needed.

You swallowed, the feel of Keigo so close making your cunt ache. You needed him in a way you’d rarely let yourself indulge before. Most of the time, the feeling of needing release after a particularly steamy makeout session with Keigo was sated with a well-used vibrator and a glass of wine.

But, to have Keigo so close and so ready?

You could feel the slick dripping from your hole at the mere thought. The coil in your gut already seemed tight with the anticipation of it all.

“God, dove,” Keigo breathed. Without missing a beat, he dragged his tongue up your cunt, stopping at your clit to swirl his tongue around it once.

He pulled away, but not before dropping a kiss on the throbbing bud. All the while, you let out little keens and gasps, forcing your hips still so as to not overwhelm him.

You looked down at him, lips parted and wet with spittle. His eyes met yours, lips curled in a smug grin, “You’re so beautiful. Can I taste you more?”

You could tell by the tone, look in his eye, and your knowledge of Keigo’s general demeanor that the moment he got the hang of making you feel good, he was going to take advantage of his prowess and become the most obnoxious tease.

You savored the thought.

“Please, Keigo. Show me how good you are.” You breathed back, letting yourself relax into the sheets as Keigo went to town.

At first, he only used his tongue. He left languid licks as he pressed as close as he could to just ravish you with what he had learned.

Keigo was obviously a very talented, well-trained person. He showed you with the way he ate your cunt like it was ambrosia and nectar, tracing shapes and sigils on your flesh with the way his touch bewitched your body, wracked with tremors and needy cries.

Quickly, he was pressing a finger into you. This time, he wasn’t so slow, but still, the amount of care he put into the motion was almost startling. He gently pumped in and out of you, all the while still kissing at your clit. He lapped at it, nonsense words and sweet nothings being spelled out on the sensitive flesh, each movement causing hot pleasure to curl your toes and bend your spine.

You cried and moaned for him, giving him all the praise you could find your lust-fogged mind. With each utterance of how Keigo was a ‘good boy’, you felt his throaty groans vibrant against your sensitive bits.

You cherished the feeling.

Keigo withdrew his fingers, taking a breather from licking you as well. Glancing up at you to check-in, he beamed up at your already fucked out expression.

“Feeling good?” He asked, kissing your thigh with a quick nip.

He’s getting bolder.

“Very good,” you hummed, yipping at the sensation of two of his fingers playing with your entrance. You weren’t above begging, despite knowing that allowing him to figure out how into it he would be was a dangerous move. “Please, Keigo. M-make me cum for you.”

He hummed, musing over it, Pandora’s box opened.

Though, he seemed to decide to test out teasing on another day. Keigo was kind enough to fuck his two fingers into you, cunt nearly sucking them in with the way you were already so tense and ready.

You could feel his smile against your clit as he tried sucking it into his mouth, curling his fingers at the exact same moment.

The gentleness, the carefulness and the love in it all nearly made your vision white out. You clung to lucidity, babbling sweetness to Keigo as he massaged at your insides, fucking them earnestly with his perfectly toned muscles behind each movement.

As he tongued at your clit, he never took his eyes off you, watching each of your twitches and reactions and adjusting accordingly. He hardly had to, though. The slick drenching his fingers and the way your hands flew to his hair were more than enough of a sign that you were already getting close.

“Fuck, fuck, Kei’, don’t stop—” You nearly sobbed as boiling pressure was so close to bubbling over in your belly.

His fingers truly fucked into you as he grunted against your sex, moving with more vigor but not once losing rhythm or pace. You could vaguely tell that he was grinding against the bed, scarlet wings extended, and flapping every few moments.

With one final kiss to your clit, you crested over the edge and let yourself go.

You spasmed around his fingers as you wailed out his name, hands flying to his hair to hold him to your cunt, grinding against his face as he sputtered out his own moans. His hips stuttered against the bed, wings beating the air a few times as your back arched and you sang for him.

He kept moving through your orgasm, pressing and rubbing at your cunt with all the technique and knowledge he could, guiding you to the last moments of your peak.

You fell against the sheets, boneless. Sweat laid sticky in your hair as your chest heaved with breath.

Keigo, the surprisingly attentive lover, popped up from between your legs, “Was that okay, dove?”

“God, Keigo,” your vision still spun as you reached for him. “Fuck, it was so good. You’re such a good boy, such a good fucking boy, Keigo.”

“I am, now?” Keigo’s normal teasing mood coming alive once more. “Glad to hear that. Can I do that again sometime?”

“Anytime, fuck,” You propped yourself up on your elbows, dragging him closer. It was then noticed his softened cock, wet with cum. “Did... you come? From eating me out?”

“And, uh, humping the bed.” That shame presented itself once more in his voice. Even as you dragged him closer, cuddles necessary, he looked a little ashamed. “I got a little excited.”

“Keigo,” You put your palms to his cheeks, squishing them and frowning softly, but the expression quickly turned melancholy. “That’s good. It’s all about both of us feeling good. And, did it feel good for you?”

“Fuck yes,” Keigo breathed, tension rolling out of his shoulders with your reminder. He snatched you up by the waist, dragging you to his chest as he fell to his side on the mattress. “It felt so good. Thank you.”

He peppered a smattering of kisses across your face as you giggled, all for him.

“Thank you,” Quietly, you returned the sentiment, kissing the apple of his cheek. “For being so good, really. You really are a good listener when you want to be.”

“I guess I am, huh.” At that, Keigo chuckled, nuzzling his nose into our hair with a hum. He wrapped you up the best he could with his wings, allowing you to go gooey in his arms.

“I’m excited to see what else you can teach me.”

|||||||||||||

taglist: @sinclairsamess

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha smut #mha x reader #hawks reader insert #takami keigo reader insert #hawks smut

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Searing Starlight (chapter two)

A/n Chapter twooo!! I cannot believe the support I’ve been getting on here im so excited to share my six of crows/shadow and bone fics with y’all!

Lmk if you’d like to be tagged when I update this story!! And just letting y’all know I take requests so if you have an idea you’d like to see me attempt feel free to comment it or send it in :))

At least Kaz’s claimed ‘wraith’ (which is such an odd thing to just have) is a girl, and a seemingly kind one at that. She was quick to find me, body pressed into wooden shelves and glass bottles, and subtly gesture for me to follow her. It had been difficult to keep track of her flighty form through the crowd, but I think there was a point in her strange raveling, to make sure no one was following me.

She’s not particularly talkative, but she doesn’t seem bothered by me. She tossed me a random oversized shirt to pull over my dress when she saw how I kept adjusting the fabric and crossing my arms. That was kinder than she needed to be. I think I’ll like her.

“So you’re a wraith,” I manage, breaking the nervous silence, “Like a full time, constantly on-call wraith.”

The question seems to puzzle her, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Yes.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly, a smile. “A full time, constantly on-call wraith.” She hesitates, perfect stance adjusting. “What were you doing before?”

Great. This question. “Nothing important.” It’s not a fair cop-out. Especially since she answered my question. “I um...I’m indentured to Rollan Kenya.”

I watch her reaction to the name. Some know of him. Some revere him. Some loathe him and everything he’s associated with. “His religious interpretations are controversial.”

“If you think what he says to the public is bad you should hear what he says in private.” I push myself further into the chair I’m in.

Something strange flickers over her features. “I can imagine.”

Shaking my head, I hope I’m ending this conversation. “What’s your name?”

A hesitation. “Inej.”

I nod once, “I’m y/n.”

“Do you need water, y/n?”

I scratch my still exposed knee. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

She’s quick to leave, feet making no noise. A minute later she returns with a cup. I have no reason to suspect her, but I still sniff the cup before taking a cautious sip. I wonder if Anya made it back home. I wonder if she’s worse off for it.

Before I can fall into a pit of debating despair, the door to the room Inej took me to squeaks open. On instinct, I snap my gaze towards the door, tensing. The first person I notice is Kaz, entering the room with a determination too intense for this time of night. Jesper is quick to follow, and I drop my stare. I’ve never had to interact with anyone I’ve lied to after taking their money.

“Are they gone?” Inej asks, clearly accustomed to such brooding tension.

Kaz nods once, “It took too much convincing--the Inferni’s more than she’s letting on.”

I’m literally in the room. “I’m not--we’ve spoken two words to each other, sorry my abilities didn’t come up.”

He turns towards me with a deadly grace. My grip on the cup tightens. What the hell is wrong for me? How deeply instilled is that god complex Kenya wanted in me? It must be as part of me as my name if I felt comfortable enough to speak that way to Kaz Brekker.

I keep my eyes on his cane, waiting for some kind of physical retaliation. “Maybe the grisha hunting you would appreciate your sense of humor more.”

It’s a bluff. He needs me. He’s desperate for something that can mimic a Sun Summoner. Still though, I’m not in the mood to poke a bear with a stick. “Speaking from experience,” I clear my throat awkwardly, “They tend not to.”

“Then I suggest you begin explaining before I decide I’d rather take my chances and you lose your worth.”

Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last eleven years of my life with Kenya, his words would haunt me. I keep my expression set, but the lanterns in the room flicker. “It’s not as impressive as they’re making it seem--Inferni can produce fire, regular, red, bright fire.” I pause, feeling energy in my palms. “I can do the same, but I can also,” I extend a flat palm, “Do this.”

I focus my energy on restraint, forcing the fire on my skin to remain there, covering my palms in a cold, blue glow. “It’s still fire, just blue--and that matters to them because blue light is the only kind you can use in the Fold.” Do they know anything about the fold? “Kenya, the man I’m indentured to, believes that this ability makes me eligible for Sainthood. He specializes in collecting people he thinks are eligible for Sainthood.” The low flame coating my palm licks upwards as I remember what disappointing Kenya means. “And if you don’t meet his standards, he’ll find a way to make sure you do. That’s why the grisha want me. He made me more and they believe that if they give me to someone who can give me an amplifier I’ll be able to produce enough blue light to protect an entire fleet.”

“What do you mean ‘he’ll find a way to make sure you do’?” Inej’s voice is cautious. An attempt to be respectful.

I drop my palm, letting the fire disappear into nothingness. “I wasn’t born with the ability to control the blue light so well--It’s difficult enough to produce for longer than two seconds let alone keep it from burning everything in sight. By the time I ended up in Kenya’s control he had learned that certain stimulants. Some scientists are working on a more grisha-targeted kind, but Kenya has managed to work with the generic well enough.” Hands shaking, I wipe the condensation off the side of the cup and hold out my wrist. Using the condensation, I begin to wipe at my wrist and forearm, smearing my makeup and revealing the needle bruises. “The key is withdrawals.”

Thoughts of begging Kenya, crying and screaming for another fix as he promised to give me that as soon as I showed some control of my abilities, make the shaking in my hand worse. I clasp my hands together, squeezing them in hopes of hiding the signs of withdrawal.

I stare at the ground, not wanting to take anyone’s reaction in. I handle pity as well as I handle kindness.

“Do you think you could produce enough blue light for one ship?”

Looking up, I take in Kaz’s measured expression. I’m glad he’s sticking to business. I’d rather that than deal with unpacking all of that with a group of strangers that don’t care if I live or die.

“I could try.” I’ve never tried to protect anything that large. “Even if I can, it doesn’t mean a voyage like that will be safe.”

“There’s no real safety in the Fold,” he replies easily. Realistic expectations. That will make this easier. “No one finds out about her--especially not Pekka Rollins.”

I pull my arm towards my body, glad for the opportunity to hide the bruises. Signs of my weakness. The worst part was always the way Kenya would speak to me after. Pathetic. Weak. Trapped within the restraints of my flesh.

“Who’s Pekka Rollins?”

Kaz briefly turns his head in my direction. “No one that will ever concern you.” He ignores my annoyed huff. “We’ll use the Inferni to get to Alina Starkov.”

Alina. Alina Starkov. “What do you want with Alina?”

At that, the room seems to drain. I feel weirder than when they were seeing my abilities.

“You know her?” Jesper’s surprise reveals more than Kaz wants him to. I don’t miss the glare he receives.

I half-shrug. “We were in the same orphanage for awhile.”

“How did you get to Ketterdam?” I don’t trust Kaz’s urgency.

“I don’t remember, I was a child and I--I hit my head that night I think. I just woke up and I was with Kenya.”

“How well do you know Alina?”

There was a point in time in which she was my best friend. We learned how to braid hair by practicing on each other, we would draw maps together, and I was the only one who knew about her crush on Mal. “Not that well.”

He takes a step forward, eyes almost squinting. The touch of distrust is evident on his face. “If you’re lying I’ll find out.”

I owe Alina at least this. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

I’m not naive enough to believe that I’ve convinced him, but his intense gaze does not remain on me. I’m relieved when his attention is off of me, but he’s only moving on to start planning the riskiest thing I’ve ever done.

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

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Hi! I have a request and whenever/ if u get to it I’d be super happy😊 it’s been a rough week and I would love a Javi fic where he wakes up next to you and it dawns on him that he loves you, and some fluff or smut ensues 👀? Have a great day!

I love this - I went with some fluff, because I am feeling soft. Here we are, some gentle, soft, and introspective Javi.

Javier x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

He came home late. Again. For the millionth time this week - rather this month. Year?

He always insisted that you didn't have to wait up for him but it didn't matter - you always tried anyway. For the days when you were able to stay up and welcome him home into your arms, he always seemed to ease up and melt into your touch. It wasn’t much, you never thought it was, but to him it was everything. To be able to come home to your smiling face, especially after a day out in the field was better than anything he could imagine. You were the singular, bright light in his dark and desperate world, reminding him that no matter what horrors he witnessed, there was always some good in this world. That no matter how bad of a man he felt, how evil and corrupt, you made him feel like that he wasn’t just filled with aching blackness. He was a good man and he was doing good things.

The way you’d whisper his name as he walked into your shared apartment was always reverent, gentle, but firm, a catalyst to ground him and drag him out of his DEA head-space. Sometimes, you’d have dinner ready and waiting, almost as if you could sense when he’d be back, cracking a cold beer open for him as he sat down before gently kissing him.

Other days when it would be late - too late - you’d meet him at the door and pull him along to the bathroom where you ran hot water filled with gently perfumed oils and stripped him of his clothes before guiding him into the tub. Sometimes you joined him, when he’d reach for you with eager hands and let you lay on his chest as he spoke about his day and got it off his mind; other times he just wanted the touch of your skin on his as you laid together in silence. Some nights you sat on the edge of the tub as you held his hand, telling him about your day, or something random, followed by washing his hair and body for him. It was something you enjoyed doing and he often did the same for you. He never verbalized just how much it meant to him, but you knew, you could always tell when he’d look at you with those soft chocolate, glossy with unshed tears before he kissed you.

There were a hundred million ways that you told him you loved him without ever saying a word. Your actions always spoke volumes, and sometimes they overwhelmed him so much, he’d retreat into himself and go off into his head. Sometimes he was convinced that he didn’t deserve this - you - any of it. That he was masquerading around and had you fooled and thinking he was a decent human. But even in those times, you let him go, didn’t push or pull too much. And you went back to showing him in all the ways you could that you loved him. That you needed him as much as he needed you. That he was your everything.

But this particular evening, he came home extra late. The stakeout had gone on longer than he intended and he wanted nothing more than to come home and crawl into bed and into your arms.

By the time he entered the apartment and tossed his keys, badge, gun, and wallet onto the side table, he knew you were asleep. You weren’t there to greet him in person, but in your place was a scrawled note on the counter top.

Javi - dinner is in the fridge - I made your favorite. Eat and take a hot bath (I insist) and then come to bed. Tomorrow’s your day off and I want you to rest. Te amo.

An overwhelming sense of warmth started in his core and spread throughout his body as he read over your words. Never in his life had he expected to be part of this level of domesticity, but fuck - it sure felt nice. He ran a finger over your gently scrawled words before tucking the note safely away into the pocket.

Just as you instructed, he went to the fridge and pulled out the plate you had prepared for him, heating it up while he got a beer and flicked on the television to quietly listen to some rerun of an old movie. As he ate, he listened to your soft snores coming from the bedroom as he smiled to himself. He knew he loved you, hell, he’d known that for a long, long time, but it had never really hit him just how damn much. It was the little things, and the big, that had him falling for you, over and over again. And - gods, he was completely smitten with you, overwhelmed and all consumed by you.

He finished his plate and beer, going to set them in the sink before deciding against it and washing the few items up and tucking them in the cabinet. It wasn’t much, but he wanted to do it so you wouldn’t have to. Padding to the bathroom, he sneaked a quick peek at your sleeping form before smiling and stepping inside and turning on the tap for the hot water. He filled it with oils and bubbles, just as you always did, before stripping and sliding into the warm, blissful water. A low groan escaped his lips as he already felt the tension leave his body; you had been right - this was exactly what he needed.

He took his time to wash his dark locks, to scrub himself free of any of the stress and grim, both literal and metaphorical, from the long day he’d had. He was off for a few days now and he wanted to start anew, to have a couple of fresh, clean days to get lost in you, to get lost in the simple pleasure of a normal life. It was nice sometimes, to get a reprieve from the constant darkness. One day, you promised him, this would be an everyday thing. And he couldn’t wait.

Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he got out and dried himself off and grabbed the clean pajamas you had laid out for him before crawling under the covers to join, taking care not to disturb your slumber.

But it was no use; as soon as you felt him slip into bed, you whispered his name with a smile tugged across your features. Your eyes didn’t open as you held your arms open and motioned for him to come to you. He eagerly complied as he let you wrap him up in your arms, pulling him tightly against your chest before tangling your legs with his. Javi made a small sound of content as he buried his face in your neck, pressing a few kisses to your soft skin before yawning and feeling the sweet call of slumber win him over.

“I love you, Dulzura,” it was a soft whisper - a promise - a reminder that even if he didn’t verbalize as often as he should, it was true.

»»————-　♡　————-««

By the time he woke up the next morning, or rather later that morning, the sun was shining brightly through the sheer curtains, the chirping of birds and the excited shouts of children reaching his ears. Javier moved to reach for you, but found your side of the bed empty. He huffed lightly, wanting nothing more than to feel your skin on his, but his despair was quickly turned upside down.

The delicious smell of cooking - bacon, coffee, pancakes - met his nose as he listened to you softly singing along to whatever was playing on the radio. Suddenly his world stopped as he realized with a burning intensity that this - you - were his everything. It was overwhelming and nearly bowled him over as he realized that he already had everything he could ever want.

As if you sensed that he was awake, you padded down the hallway and poked your head into the bedroom to find him grinning back at you.

“Good morning mi amor,” you beamed at him, that soft, gentle smile that still managed to make him weak in the knees. God, that smile had won him over within about five seconds of meeting you. You stepped in and walked over to him, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Javi reached up and grabbed your face, holding you against his lips as he savored your sweet, saccharine taste. He traced over your features, studying you closely as his eyes softened, “what’s wrong, Javi?”

“Nothing,” he promised with another soft kiss, “I’m just happy. What a sight to wake up to.”

“I’m happy too,” you promised him, “I’m glad you got some rest, but now go back to sleep, it’ll be a little bit before everything is ready.”

“I’m wide awake now,” he insisted as he sat up and you ran a hand through his messy locks.

“Was I being too loud?” you frowned, hoping you weren’t the cause.

“No,” he promised softly, “I got enough rest. Let me help you - “

“It’s okay, Javi,” you insisted, “I want to do this, besides, it’s your day off. Let me take care of you.”

“I love you, dulzura,” he said suddenly, reaching for your hand before you could get away, “I know I don’t tell you enough, or show you, but please just know, I love you more than you will ever know.”

“I know Javier,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “I know you do. You prove that to me every day, even if you don’t realize it. I love you too.”

“Let me come and help make breakfast,” he moved to slide out of the bed and stand up, stretched as he did so.

“Javier, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he promised gently, wrapping his arms around you before pulling you into his chest, “really. And maybe this afternoon we can go to the beach. Just you and me. What do you say dulzura?”

“I’d like that Javi,” you grinned at him as touched his cheek, getting lost in those soft brown eyes, “I’d like that a lot.”

“And I like you a lot - I love you always, even if I don’t say it enough,” he insisted, “you have my heart, now and forever.”

“And you have mine, Javier. Always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader

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thotsforvillainrights · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do a scenario of Kai breaking out of jail to see his s/o and once he does, the reader is a bit scared at first, but then they give him all of the loves in the world? I need him.

~Midnight Visitor~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

The downpour outside of the old glass windows began to escalate on the hour as it effectively indicated the oncoming thunderstorm predicted earlier by the weather man on channel 89. In short: it was time to go outside and bring in the lawn chairs and wind chimes so as they don’t end up blown away like the last storm that happened. It was saddening to say the least. The old chairs and chimes had sentimental value since they had belonged to Pops. You still could place your finger on the very moment when you rushed to the room and apologized to him for it. Of course there would be no reply but you had hoped he could hear you. “Ugh not now.” You grumbled as you dragged the chairs in as fast as you could. It seems like bad rain always picks up and becomes all the more heavy during the very moment you need to step outside.

With the chairs put away in the kitchen and the intricate glass chimes laid carefully across the living room table, you trudged your way to Pops room to check on him and maybe give him something to eat. Every time you had to bring yourself to open the door and hold it together. Every time emotions threatened to burst straight from your chest like some sort of a desperate sob...much like a wounded cat in the street or a child missing their mother so dearly.

You sighed and went to check the machines, all of which reading at a perfect number as usual. Everything seemed to be in order. “Now if only you would just wake up.” You spoke as you gently ran your fingers in his delicate gray locks. If Pops could see himself in this bed right now then he would be horrified at what was once a strong and adored Yakuza leader. Someone greatly respected and revered, left to nothing but a withering old shell in a hospital cot. By his own son... You felt a tear slip and began furiously wiping your face as more of them threatened to pour down. To be angry was one thing, but to be deeply saddened was another. All of the things you thought you once knew about the man you loved had come to light after the sudden raid on the Hassaikai household. While you were away that day the news shook you to your core. The countless police interrogations and the claims that you helped in this plan were absurd and quite tedious to say the least. Luckily you were let off the hook when a lie-detector test determined you weren’t kidding about your obliviousness. You knew they were a crime mob, but you had no idea your lover was the reason Pops ended up in the coma back then. You especially had no idea that all that time Chisaki had been senselessly abusing that little girl behind your back. Had you known, you certainly would’ve put a stop to it.

When the day came that the hospital handed Pops over to your care officially, you had begged and pleaded to take in Eri as well. She was the only known tie to Pops so far, and you wanted so badly for the opportunity to undo the damages Chisaki had inflicted on the poor soul. Unfortunately, the HSC and the police deemed you incapable of providing her with the right things she needed (especially concerning her quirk and controlling it). They ended up handing her over to some heroes at UA. When you met the people, you had decided it was for the best. As long as she would be happy and safe.

Despite all of this pain, anger, and betrayal, deep in your heart you still harbored a burning desire for Kai Chisaki. There was no other person that ever wriggled their way under your skin like he did. He could say the same about you, surely he would say it if he were here now. You feel so bad every single time he crosses your mind (which is often). You could only feel that tiny bit of guilt sinking in when the thought of Eri and Pops crosses. Not to mention the fact that the 8 bullets were serving some hefty time in jail/prison as well. Yet you still can’t stop thinking about the way he used to hold you at nights. Just the two of your bodies creating enough warmth to feel right at home with each other. Or the way he’d look and smirk after uttering off some dry and terribly executed joke of his own. Perhaps you’d fall asleep again tonight as you dreamed of your old first date with each other and the ice cream he worked up the nerve to smudge on the tip of your nose with his gloved fingers. The way he offered to massage your back after a long day, the way you basked in the intimacy of a couples shared shower or bath, the way he kisses you after a long mission of being away. His first touch without his gloves, the first time you saw his face without the mask...

“Night Pops. Maybe you could try to wake up tomorrow?” It was wishful thinking as usual. The gently rubbed circled into his old wrinkled hand before checking the machines one more time and heading out of the room. Halfway towards the bedroom you heard an odd sound of heavy footsteps along the back porch area. You paused in the dark hallway and listened intently with the hopes of it simply being an opossum or something of that nature. You could feel your heart drop with alarm when you recognized the poor sounds of the back door being kicked ever so slightly. Without a second thought you quickly scurried down the hall and to the bedroom to retrieve the metal bad that took up residency under the bed after Kai was arrested.

Protection is always key.

Each sound of the kicks on the door rose ever so slightly in volume as you slowly approached the front end of the house. You quietly slipped out the front door and walked to the back area with the bat held tightly in your hands. Coming this way would be a good way to get the slip on the burglars or intruders kicking at the door. The rain was wild and the wind howled as it whipped bushed and tree leaves around you. In the shadow of the night you were just able to barely make out the form of a man standing hunched over at the back door as he kicked at it. Just as you were about to swing with all the force you were holding inside, the man quickly turned around and peered at you with a look akin to desperation and a mix of relief. “Angel...” You dropped the bat and stumbled backward a bit. Have your eyes deceived you??? Kai was sanding there. Your Kai...You gasped and covered your mouth with both of your hands. Any trace of fear for the moment had been overtaken with each and every emotion you had bottled up since the moment he was taken away. The second you removed your hands to speak, the words were replaced by an ugly sob. You gripped at the sides of your clothes and just stood there sobbing. For a moment if you could hear it through the rain and wind, he was sobbing too.

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

You laid in bed gently rubbing his scalp and admiring how his hair had grown a bit. He nuzzled his head further into you and he rest himself upon your chest. No words were exchanged in the moment because emotions were too high to speak. All you both knew is that you needed this quiet moment to work out how you felt. It was clear you missed him by the way your heart picked up when he shifted ever so often to get comfortable. The fear of him leaving or being taken away again was ingrained in you. As it was for him as well... The thought of being in that Godforsaken prison without so much as an opportunity to have visiting time with you was breaking him apart. The only person he missed more than Pops was you. He had so much regret in this moment for everything he put you two through. All of this could’ve been avoided had he just listened to the old man and followed the path laid out in front of him. All he could feel aside from the relief of seeing you again...feeling and hearing you again...was the pain of losing those closest to him just because of his fucked up decisions. You were not without foul emotion as well in this very moment. All of you anger and regret sat brewing. You wanted nothing more in this moment than to beat him like a rabid dog for causing you, Pops, Eri, and the Hassaikai all this strife. Yet at the same time you wanted to badly to care for him, make love to him, and treat him with all the love he hasn’t received since he was taken away.

Come early in the morning tomorrow you would have to go see a man on the black market about fake I.D’s and passports. By the end of the week you would have to leave this place with both Kai and Pops in tow even if that meant leaving overseas to a small village or town in the snowy land perhaps. Somewhere where Kai would be unrecognizable and somewhere you could all three start again.

In the mean time you look down to him and notice he’s fallen asleep, what’s left of his arms wrapped in a desperate attempt to hold you as best he can. You lay a soft kiss along his cheek and get a feel for his newly developed stubble as well.

A nice nap would have to do for now.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

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#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #overhaul #scenario

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hotchseyebrows · 4 years ago

Text

that's my heart right there

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: hi beloveds :) today i present this happy and soft morcia fic that i wrote in practically one go last night. who needs wips when you can just ignore them all blatantly for new works? thank you as always to @blkantigone for providing another set of eyes, love you lots! love you all too, thank you for reading!

rating/warnings: teens and up, allusions to sex but none on screen, mostly just gooey marshmallowly fluff!

read it on ao3 here!

The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

A post Exit Wounds fic where Kevin doesn't exist and Clooney the dog is much more important to the narrative. They're in love and finally doing something about it.

word count: 2311

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia.”

He thinks about it the whole plane ride back from Alaska. When they board, she gently tugs him to the big couch before sitting directly next to him. He drops his arm around her shoulders instinctually, smiling as she hums and pulls out her knitting. She smells like honey and rain (the respective scents of her shampoo and conditioner and her body wash) and has picked a warm color gradient for her outfit and makeup today. She babbles about her knitting group’s latest gossip for a while as he relaxes into her side.

She seems like her normal relaxed and bubbly self, but he can feel the tension in her shoulders. Their early conversation was comforting, but her worries are still weighing on her. But he doesn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone, so he just kisses her temple and tugs her closer. “So wait baby girl, is Jared going to ask out Francisco or not?”

“I don’t know! I asked him about it before we left and he dodged giving me a straight answer. I think he’s worried about their friendship, but it’s SO obvious that Francisco is wild about him. They’re already best friends, so- he’s just being silly. I told him that.”

The conversation moves on, but Penelope’s friends join the merry-go-round of thoughts in his head for the rest of the flight. They stay close for the remaining 8 hours, usually with some form of physical contact even as they adjust positions over the long trip home. Derek focuses on making her laugh as much as possible and trying to make her blush all at once.

When they land at home after almost 9 hours on the jet, the sun is setting. The team is obviously tired, but in relatively good spirits as they exit the plane. Derek is last, just behind Penelope. The sky is full of the same colors on Penelope’s clothes today, he realizes as they walk across the airfield. “It’s good to be back,” she says, pulling her shawl tight. “I miss you when you go but it’s… easier on me in some ways not to be there.”

It makes him pause, slowing to a stop. Penelope walks further ahead but notices he’s not there and stops herself. She looks over her shoulder at him, waiting. The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

They don’t dance. This part is unusual. Instead it’s 4 drinks in each at a quiet bar close to Derek’s apartment, and they are glued to each other’s side on the same side of a table in a corner booth. This place doesn’t even have a dance floor.

She leans against his side, nosing at his neck. “You smell good,” she mumbles. He wraps an arm around her, feeling shaky like a ship in a storm.

“Baby girl, is this-” He pauses, not sure what the question should be. Not sure of the answer she’ll give. Penelope picks her head up to look at him, cheeks flushed. Derek swallows. “Am I imagining things, or…”

“You’re not imagining things.” She leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I feel it too.” He grins and pulls her in for a proper kiss. They fall into it easily, as if it isn’t the first time. The first time it really means what it’s meant to. It feels like they’ve been together for years- and in some ways, that’s not untrue.

He brings her home. It’s late, and they’ve had a long case and now a long night, so he knows she’s tired. Still, she stops to drop to her knees to hug Clooney when he comes barreling out of Derek’s bedroom at the sound of them entering the apartment.

“Oh, hello sweetie, hi there, yes, I know, it’s so exciting when Daddy comes home, but it’s even more exciting when he brings me to visit, I know-” Clooney agrees with a quiet woof- “see, Derek, Clooney said I’m his favorite.”

Derek smiles at the way his best girl gets along with his big goof of a dog. “He’s got good taste.” He doesn’t mean the words to come out so weighted, but she looks up at him with such a reverent look on her face that he doesn’t care.

She stands up and drags him through his apartment, Clooney hot on their heels. They get ready for bed at the same time as if they’ve done this domestic routine every night for ages. She won’t stop looking at him like she loves him. Like she cherishes him. He believes her.

She pulls him into his bed, arranging their bodies close together. They don’t do anything more than kiss with their arms wrapped around each other. She falls asleep first with her head on his chest. It makes him feel warm. They shared a bed in Alaska too, and now he’s thinking about not wanting the streak to end. He pulls her closer for the moment, the places where her soft skin is touching his own shooting little bolts of lightning through him as he falls asleep too.

Penelope makes breakfast. He takes Clooney on a run, slipping out of bed when she’s still asleep and kissing her forehead before he goes. When he comes back, she’s in his robe, standing over the stove. He’s sweaty and hot, but she yanks him into a kiss anyway. After the eggs burn a little, he pulls away and takes a quick shower. She’s waiting at the table, coffee made and Clooney napping at her feet. The food is delicious, but sitting here with her like this is better. She tastes like coffee when he kisses her over the table.

Someone surely would have noticed Penelope in the same outfit again today, but over the years so much of her clothing has ended up hanging in Derek’s closet next to his own that she’s able to pick out a full outfit for the day. Today her dress is frilly and bright green. He picks out a darker green shirt to match- just because he can.

They drop into this new routine easily. Their flirtatious phone calls now have this added layer of promise and intent, even if they haven’t made good on it yet. She’s always been the primary person to stop in and take care of Clooney while Derek’s on cases, but now he comes home and she’s still there. His two best loves, sitting on his couch. He gets home after a case with hidden cameras and is feeling particularly exposed over it all. But there she is, smiling up at him, because she missed him. Because she wanted to see him.

“Hi there,” she says. He crosses the room and lifts her off the couch, holding her against him. She follows his lead with ease, trusting him implicitly. His arms wrap around her waist. He can literally feel her breathing like this, and he’s never been so grateful that she’s alive. “Hi,” she whispers again.

“Hi baby.” He nuzzles the side of her head, breathing in the soft honey scent of her hair.

She doesn’t ask what’s got him all worked up. She just wraps her arms around his neck and lets him hold her. After a minute or two of just swaying in place, he leans in and presses their lips together. A gentle kiss at first, but quickly his desire for closeness, to feel her, bleeds into that too. He lifts her legs off the ground and puts them around his waist. Penelope makes a noise close to a whine in the back of her throat, pushing closer. He carries her to his room, kissing her fiercely all the while.

Afterwards, she’s lying on top of him with her head on his chest. Derek runs his fingers through her hair, gently untangling anything he comes across. “I’m glad you’re home,” she says, slightly muffled by her mouth’s position against his skin.

It sounds like she means that this is their home. Or that she is his home.

“Me too.” He pulls her up for another slow kiss. She climbs up on top of him, straddling his hips. Her hands cup his cheeks before running down his chest. He keeps the kiss slow, and she kisses back with ease. Like they’re in love.

Derek is in the break room, making another cup of coffee. Emily slides next to him, a coffee stirrer in her teeth. “You seem happy.”

Derek looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a nice day, Prentiss.” Emily deliberately looks at where the rain outside is hitting the window. Derek doesn’t back down.

“Whoever you’ve been dating must be a hell of someone. That’s good.”

Derek can’t help but smile. She really is.

“But I want more information sooner than later, Morgan.”

He hums, and picks up Penelope’s coffee cup from the rack. He takes his time filling it before looking at Emily pointedly.

She pauses and then grins. “I fucking knew it. I knew it!” Derek smiles back. “You better take care of her, I swear to God-”

“I will. I am.”

She softens. “She better take care of you too.”

He picks up both mugs. “She does.”

He’s never felt like this in a relationship before. Being with Penelope is easy. It’s just the same as it was, but better and more. She stops by his office a little more, and he swings by the batcave more often than he needs to, but no one notices. It’s just part of the normal Morgan-Garcia antics everyone expects.

She does take full advantage of this and is definitely getting kissed more often than anyone else at Quantico during the day, but Derek doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

They’re sitting on a park bench at the edge of the dog park and watching Clooney run himself ragged through the grass. She puts her head on his shoulder. “Francisco asked Jared out a few days ago.”

“I thought you said Jared was the one who was thinking about asking out Francisco.”

“Francisco got tired of waiting.”

He nods. “I know the feeling,” he says before kissing the top of her head.

After they find Ellie’s mom, Derek can’t shake this weird mixture of happy and sad in the middle of his chest. Penelope comes over unprompted with a plate of cookies and a stack of dvds. They lay on the couch, her holding him and Clooney with his head on Derek’s thigh. They don’t talk about it then, but they will later. For now she traces a pattern on his side as Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter kidnap a baby. Clooney starts snoring. Penelope kisses Derek’s shoulder, arms holding him tight.

They show up together to a little party at Rossi’s. Emily sees them holding hands and grins. No one else notices that, but they do notice when Penelope pulls Derek down into a kiss after he gets her another drink.

“Thank you, mon amour. You’re my hero.”

He laughs. “Anything for you baby girl.” He taps the tip of her nose in punctuation. She pulls him in for another short kiss in response.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” says Rossi.

Emily is grinning widely. Spencer and JJ have matching excited and pleased looks. Hotch has this knowing look on his face. Derek raises an eyebrow at him specifically. Hotch just looks back with the softest smile on his face. He should have known Hotch would have noticed.

“Hold on, does that mean what I think it does or is this something you two are just doing now?” Spencer asks.

Derek looks down at Penelope. “Yes.”

The team laughs. “Yes to which part?”

“Yes,” Penelope says.

Spencer scrunches his nose at her. She giggles. “Yes, as in, it means what you think it does, pretty boy.”

Spencer claps his hands together, swinging them back and forth a little. “Good! Finally. I’m glad we don’t have to wait anymore.”

“Me too,” Penelope says to the group, but she’s only looking at Derek. He leans in and kisses her again in agreement.

Derek takes Clooney out when they get home to let him do his business before bed. When he comes back inside, Penelope is already in bed wearing one of his shirts and flipping through a knitting magazine. He strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed next to her, laying on his back and putting his face on her thigh.

“I think they took that well,” she says.

Derek rubs his face into her skin. He hums, nodding a little.

“When did Emily find out?”

“Find out that it’s you I’m seeing? Or that it was you I was too afraid to do anything about?”

She chuckles. “How about both, then.”

“She cornered me in the break room a few weeks after Alaska. And I never officially told her that I was nuts about you, so I think a safe bet would be her first day on the team.” Penelope drops the magazine and climbs into his lap.

“That long?” He knows what she means specifically.

“Even longer.” She runs a thumb along his jawline and looks down at him with such adoration in her eyes he thinks he might burst.

“Me too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. He pulls her down into a kiss.

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan,” she says back without hesitation. He kisses her again, 'cause that’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #cm #cj.txt #denelope #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cjs fic

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Text

bye bc i have not been able to get the thought of like,, you working as the candidate manager for the warrior program (aka glorified babysitter / school counselor) and reiner slowly falling for u over the years

— you’d first met him around a month after he returned from paradis, after he was finally debriefed and given countless ideological assessments, and he was just exhausted by the time he was finally allowed to see his family again but he still woke up early the next day to go with gabi to training. he saw how happily gabi greeted you, how warmly you smiled back, and he thought that if anyone was taking care of his little cousin over the years he was gone, he was grateful that it was someone who came off as nicely as you did.

— your first conversation initiated after gabi dragged him over by the arm and introduced the two of you herself, but you didn’t get to speak long before you all had to go your separate ways. the way you tucked a piece of gabi’s hair behind her ear and gingerly wrapped your arm around her as you led her off to her classes for the day makes his heart flutter.

— you two made small talk when you ran into each other, sometimes talking about the kids, sometimes talking about yourselves, nothing terribly personal, but he always found himself feeling much lighter after he got to see you.

— reiner accompanied you once when you chaperoned the kids’ recreational time in town and sat on the bench beside you while you both watched them all play around at the park you usually took them too. your voice was soft and affectionate as you told him that you sometimes forgot that they were just children, letting it slip that you couldn’t help but feel disheartened that they had been made to grow up so fast. you were worried that he, the one revered as the most loyal warrior, would report you for disrespecting the methods of marley, but he only sighed, smiling sadly as he replied, “me too.”

— one day when the kids were training, you and the warriors were standing to the side watching them, discussing casually amongst yourselves as you watched them run laps with all their gear. on the last go around, udo fell flat on his face, and before reiner can even turn to see your reaction, you were already running over to make sure he was okay. the exercise instructor forced you to wait for udo to make it to the end on his own, but as soon as he reached finish line, you rushed him away into the main school building. when you didn’t return for a few minutes, reiner ventured in to see where you’d gone, he found you both in an empty classroom—you kneeling in front of udo, handkerchief in hand, gently wiping the tears and dirt from his cheeks and telling him that he had done a good job, that everybody makes a mistake once in a while, that he was just as capable as the other candidates. he stood beside the door, listening to you comfort udo, feeling his own eyes watering as he did. he wished he had someone like you when he was young.

— the first time the two of you had a proper, in-depth conversation was the evening that the mid-east allied forces had declared war against marley, the only two left at the privacy of his quarters, sharing the last bottle of wine leftover between yourselves. the facade of perfect patriotism that you had both been careful to maintain had dissipated, whether because of the alcohol or because of the gravity of such impending doom weighing at your hearts. he’d learned that you’d been apart of the warrior program yourself, an unselected trainee in the class just a year below his own. you told him that was how you’d managed to secure yourself this position, but he said that it was much more than that, that you were a natural at a position that require such patience and compassion. the way your lips had turned up into the smallest of smiles made his cheeks flushed.

“i heard the war is going to be mostly naval. i doubt we’ll have to worry about any of us being shipped out to fight any time soon.”

you took a long sip from your glass, finishing off what remained, taking in a deep, pensive breath. “god forbid they send any of those kids away to the battlefield. god forbid they send you away.”

“me?” he said after a moment of silence, an odd sort of tightness cinching around his heart and lungs, squeezing tighter with every fine detail he noticed in your sorrowful expression—warm eyes filled with sympathy, mouth drawn down into a delicate frown, brow slightly knitted.

“you’ve seen enough. you’ve gone through enough, more than anyone should have to go through by themselves.”

reiner felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, an almost tangible ache echoing through his chest. that was the first time someone had ever told him that before.

— despite the worsening tension of war, reiner saw that you were just as cheerful as ever with the kids, bringing them sweets and desserts you made yourself when you got the chance, taking them out on their weekly outings and making sure they were doing alright just as normal. but he could see the way your face would shift when one of them piped up with something regarding the current battle being waged, spouting out the same propaganda he’d been force-fed for his entire life. you would only smile, patting them on the shoulder or rubbing their back, responding with a simple assertion that you were sure marley’s troops were doing great out there before changing the subject

“they’re so young. sometimes i forget they’re only children.”

your words from the park bench flitted across his mind, the words that you silently spoke when your eyes widened at gabi’s proclamation that marley’s glory would forever prevail, or when your lips pursed briefly at the four of them squabbling over who would inherit which titan.

“they’re too small to be holding such big weapons. those rifles they give them are taller than they are. it’s.. it’s...”

perverse? distressing? horrible? it was all of those things, and so much more. but you saw it. you didn’t egg them on like porco or zeke, you congratulated them without drenching it in more and more lies. you didn’t see them as soldiers-in-training, you didn’t see them as warriors, you saw them as they were. as children. you cared for them like he did.

— when the time came, you were shipped off to fort slava alongside the warrior unit, your training and your extensive experience working with the candidates for the past five years serving as the justification for your necessity. though reiner had wished to be around you more often, he didn't at all enjoy it in this context. seeing you in a full soldier’s uniform, skin dusted with dirt and gunpowder, a helmet that only seemed to have more and more dents and scratches in the metal with each day that passed—it felt so incredibly wrong. you didn’t belong in the trenches of war, and yet he still saw you running about every morning, previously soft hands becoming roughened and scarred, growing thinner and thinner from the stress and minuscule rations that were barely enough to get everyone through the day. and yet you were lively, still tending to the kids and attempting to give them a space away from the warfare outside when you could all retire to the unit’s dugout at night.

— one night, reiner had woken from his sleep and was too restless to return to it, unable to ignore the distant sounds of gunfire and shouts from outside, staring up at the ceiling from his bunk and allowing himself to drift away into his thoughts. he remembered all the nights he’d spent like this in his own home as a child, barely able to force himself to sleep for a few hours despite knowing that he had another long day of training ahead of him. but he turned over on his mattress at the sound of soft murmuring, the sound of sheets shifting and the quiet protest of the flimsy bed frames squeaking. in the dimness of the lantern that sat at the foot of gabi’s bunk, he saw you seated at her bedside, looking down at her as you spoke.

“are you okay? do you want me to wake up reiner?”

he couldn’t make out gabi’s mumbled response, but he saw the small silhouette of her head shaking from side to side on her pillow.

“i know he’s been looking tired lately, but i promise that he won’t be upset if we wake him up for a moment.”

another unintelligible reply from the young girl just barely occupied the air. a part of him wanted to step out of his bunk and see what she needed, but another, more persuasive thought kept him still, laying silently, watching on to see how you would tend to her. he knew that gabi admired you deeply, the fact that you’d managed to win her over was something that impressed him, but at the same time didn’t surprise him at all. he couldn’t imagine how anyone could dislike someone as gentle and thoughtful as you.

“you’re a big girl, gabi, so am i. but that doesn’t mean we don’t all need a little bit of help sometimes. it’s scary out here, and i’m so proud of you for holding your own out there. it’s okay to be scared.”

you were quiet for a moment, allowing for gabi to speak, a hand reaching out to gently stroke the side of her head and run through her hair. a quiet, genuine laugh slipping from you when she concluded.

“i promise i won’t tell anyone. i’ll get back to my bunk as soon as you get back to sleep. deal?”

he caught the end of an affirmative nod from his cousin, and the two of you fell silent. you stood for a moment to tuck the covers around her, sitting back down and returning to your soothing motions, looking almost like a dream in the glow of the soft illumination at your side.

he realized in that moment what that feeling in his chest was, the one that made his throat tighten just the slightest bit, that made him feel light as air for those few fleeting moments before the spell of you in his gaze was broken by some menial interruption. but the interruption didn’t come this time, nothing to remind him to bury his feelings and not ruminate on them long enough to figure out exactly what they were. he had been running from this revelation for far too long, and he knew exactly why—because it would be unfair to burden you with these feelings that he knew he shouldn’t have.

he loved how you made him feel. he loved seeing how cheerful you were even when it was too early in the morning for him to even be properly awake himself. he loved seeing how you smiled when the children hung onto you on your days out. he loved that you could see the appalling indoctrination of marley’s military might on it’s citizens for what it was. he loved how you saw him for more than his failure four years ago. he loved how tender you looked stroking his younger cousin’s hair, assuring her that you wouldn’t leave her until she was fast asleep. he loved you, honestly and wholeheartedly.

it was a selfish desire, a longing that he would have to keep to himself for your sake. but, in moments like these, where the vision of having something more seemed so close to his outstretched grasp, the thought of sharing his final years together rather than in a respectful coexistence, he found it so difficult to resist temptation.

if only he had more time.

24 / 7 reiner brainrot. i have an unfathomable amount of love for this man ( ; ω ; )

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff #reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner brainrot #snk reiner #reiner braun snk #reiner braun drabble

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delimeful · 5 years ago

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the shapes in the silence (12)

warnings: dissociation, fighting, mild blood & injury, panic, another hopefully less bad cliffhanger

Puff woke up to a gentle hand down his back ridges, his hoard chattering above him, and an odd, high pitched note on the edge of his hearing.

His ears twitched in agitation at the noise, but his hoard took priority, so he took a moment to stretch before finally tuning into the conversation.

The three of them were arguing about another one of their screen viewings, trying to decide which one of their little stories to play. Each of them seemed to treasure very specific titles with passionate reverence, but for Puff couldn’t tell the difference between most of them. The screen was always too bright for his eyes to focus on for long, and the sounds often too loud.

As such, when the decision was left up to him, he simply stared at them blankly for a moment before settling back into a curled up shape to continue dozing.

There was a pause in the chatter (making the strange noise seem all the louder) and then they continued speaking in much more muted tones, indicating discomfort and uncertainty. Puff felt a twinge of discontent run through him and sighed grumpily.

This was the problem with a human-shaped hoard. They were so difficult to maintain.

Not that Puff would trade his hoard for all the shining things in the world. Each of them on their own were more valuable than any number of treasures combined. Every dragon probably felt that way about their hoard, but in his case it was true.

He let his eyes slit open, peering at the nearest of his collection.

Roman, who carried the smell of pigments and an appreciation for the finer things himself, was like a golden gauntlet. Ornate but handcrafted, painstaking care in every detail, and dripping with rubies.

Logan, who needed his hands occupied just as well as his mind, was like an illuminated manuscript. Pages draped in silver leaf edging, needing such a delicate touch to keep the ink from wearing away.

Patton, who watched them all with keen eyes and a warm gaze, was like a polished wooden music box. Inside, rose-colored clockwork met precisely placed metal prongs, together producing the notes to a nostalgic tune.

They were so precious, all of them, but never more than when they were shining their brightest with joy and contentment.

Puff was having a hard time making them happy, lately. Without Not-Puff, it was much harder to figure out which actions would keep his hoard from becoming dull with misery. His tail thrashed irritably as he once again felt the absence in himself.

Despite his constant presence as a part of their shared being, Not-Puff was assuredly not part of the hoard. He was like a rusty, chipped butterfly knife. All double edges and caked dirt from lack of care. Barely even worth looking at.

Still, Not-Puff was better at understanding which choices would make the hoard happy, which meant he was useful to have around. Puff mentally prodded at the barrier aiding in keeping the other half of him tucked quietly away, but there was no response. As the days passed, he’d only stirred when one of the hoard did something dangerous-stupid that went against all of their shared protective instincts, and even then, only barely.

It made Puff think that he didn’t plan on coming back.

It wasn’t like Not-Puff was a dragon, so maybe he simply didn’t care as much about the hoard. And even if he was gone for good, what did Puff care? That just meant more room for him in the empty, echoing space of their mind.

… Whatever.

Puff rolled over and got to his feet, stretching his wings out until they threatened to cramp. How irritating, thoughts like this keeping him up when all he wanted to do was take a nap.

If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well investigate the source of the noise.

He leapt easily to the floor, his hoard having already picked a glow story to watch in subdued silence. Patton called out a parting caution, and then Puff was off, trotting over to the stairs.

He passed Not-Puff’s room with barely a glance down the darkened hall. It was empty, obviously, though most of his hoard didn’t seem to realize. Logan and Patton often stood at the threshold, knocking and trying to coax Not-Puff out with sweet foods or concerned words, and while Roman generally avoided it, Puff had caught him staring more than once.

No matter what they tried or didn’t try, it remained locked up, silent and dark inside. Just like its former resident.

Puff could still get in, though he refrained from using the small flap-like door when others were watching. It wouldn’t do to make his hoard feel excluded, after all.

His dagger, the obsidian one with the gilded edges and honeyed words, could get inside, too.

His dagger-- Puff couldn’t quite recall the false name he used-- spent a lot of his time locked in that room, which was a bit foolish of him. It couldn’t be pleasant. Even Puff could feel the stagnant, fearful aura that lingered there, and dragons weren’t known for being affected by such things.

Not-Puff had complex, many-edged feelings towards their dagger, but it didn’t really matter, because Not-Puff had complex feelings about all of the hoard. He was a strange one like that.

In any case, it didn’t stop Puff from occasionally tromping off to go curl up in his dagger’s lap, letting the silly creature talk at him. He always talked when Puff came to bask with him, trying to coax Not-Puff out with lies and threats and even apologies that made his voice crack.

None of it ever worked.

He wasn’t in Not-Puff’s room now, though. Puff felt around curiously, and found his dagger was out in the real world, playing pretend.

He did that more and more often these days, dressing up to masquerade as Not-Puff for their Thomas. It was a strange practice. Puff much preferred his dagger as himself, all shining scales and black velvet.

Thomas was the crown of their little hoard, of course. It only made sense.

The odd tone grew in intensity, and Puff shook off his distractions, ears flattening against his skull. He could curl up with his hoard later, once this irritating buzzing was-- as Roman would say-- vanquished.

He passed the doors in the hall one after another, listening carefully at each one. After such a thorough inspection, the answer became clear.

Puff studied the portal-like entrance to the imagination, head tilting back and forth as he listened carefully to the noise. Not-Puff’s fear of this realm had kept Puff from wandering into it alone up until now, but the painful buzzing was definitely coming from it.

It was Not-Puff’s own fault for not being around to stop him, he decided, and stepped through.

As Puff trotted down cobblestone paths and dirt roads after the sound, it only seemed to grow more and more intense, enough so that he had to stop a few times to shake his head agitatedly, trying to get rid of the ringing headache.

At least those irritating shadow projections Not-Puff spawned weren’t present. The woven thread around his neck seemed to do well enough preventing them, which was good, because Puff wasn’t in the mood to go scampering around avoiding the trifling things. Not when there were noises to attend to.

“So it worked, after all.”

The strange, lilting voice made him spin around, wings flaring defensively.

Up in the twisting boughs of an old oak, the stranger cocked their head, bird-like. “I wasn’t sure it would,” they continued. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”

They tossed a hollow stone in their hand, the strange noise emanating from it. The scales along their cloak rattled with every movement, and Puff’s hackles rose in response. He remembered them. The Witch that tried to turn him against his own hoard.

“Now, don’t be rude. I’ve skinned beasts much larger than you with barely a snap of the fingers, you know.” They slid down to the ground, and Puff skittered back a few steps. “Halt.”

The compulsion took root firmly in him, keeping his feet glued to the ground. He hissed viciously, furious that their magic had such a hold on him. They sauntered closer and dropped to a squat.

“So my thrall does affect you… perhaps before was a one-off? I suppose it’s still interesting enough that you somehow keep your mind.” The eyes of their mask were dark and hollow, sending a chill down Puff’s spine even as he continued to growl viciously. “Quiet, now. Keep your mouth shut.”

His teeth clacked together painfully as his mouth snapped shut, leaving an impotent glare as his only form of defense.

“Perfect,” they said, and plucked him up from the ground, calming his struggles with another pulse of magic and a hand down his spine. “His Royal Irritation has been rearing for fight after fight lately, so it’ll be nice to finally have some leverage on my side.”

A chill spread through him.

“How long do you think it will take for him to find you?” they mused, tone light and mocking as they continued to run their hand along his spine possessively. “Days? Weeks? I certainly hope I’ll have enough time to prepare for company.”

Puff felt as though the metal cuff around his leg had grown suddenly heavy. He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't take them nearly as long as he might hope, not when his hoard had grown so used to having him constantly nearby. Not when there was a tracker to lead them right into the Witch’s trap.

“Don’t fret, little dragon,” they crooned, tapping a finger between his eyes. “Sleep. I’ll wake you for the fun.”

Unable to do anything else, he obeyed.

When he woke, it was on the floor of an ornate birdcage, with magic thick in the air.

He uncurled, limbs weak, and pushed himself up to see that not one, but three of his hoard were before him, standing there in the grand hall of an ancient castle, facing off with the Witch.

The sight sent a thrum of alarm through him. The three of them didn’t enter the Imagination together often, and the effects of their combined presence made the place feel more real, more lasting.

Seeing the way they were back to back, surrounded by vicious constructed monsters, that wasn’t a good thing. That was a very, very bad thing indeed.

Even from his position next to the Witch’s throne, he could make out the cut on Roman’s forehead that continued to drip blood into his eyes, the way Logan leaned his weight heavily on one foot as though injured, the exhausted shaking of Patton’s frame as he tossed away a monster at Roman’s back.

More than that, he could feel the strain of his mental connection to his hoard, the urge to keep them from harm nearly all-consuming. They were his, and he would not stand idly by while they suffered.

For the first time in weeks, there was a stirring inside of Puff, like a billowing of air on banked coals. A white-hot glow, expanding with nowhere to go.

A gloved hand flicked the bars of the cage, bringing all his furious attention to the Witch. Their invisible gaze rested intently on him, making his scales prickle.

“Enjoying the show, small one?”

If looks could kill, this battle would be long over. The Witch laughed lowly at him.

“You look at me so fiercely, but this wouldn’t have been possible without you, you know?” They turned their gaze back to the battle with a darkly satisfied tint to their voice. “All three of them, right here in the palm of my hand for the sake of such a tiny, helpless creature. I’d almost think there’s something genuinely special about you. Too bad you probably won’t survive the heartbreak when I kill them.”

The snarl Puff let out seemed too small, too weak to even begin to express the amount of vitriol inside of him. The Witch didn’t even glance at him before rising to their feet to join the battle themself. His body trembled oddly.

He was afraid, he realized with a startle. He was more afraid than he’d ever been before.

That internal stir rose up again at the emotion, but it still felt as though a wall of thick mental fog separated Puff from it, like reaching through a haze. Bracing himself, he pushed past it anyways, dizzy with the effort.

For the first time since they’d been separated, Not-Puff was reaching back. Puff hesitated for the barest of moments.

If they did this. There would be consequences.

If they didn’t do this…

Nothing could be worse than losing them, one of them answered, and the other agreed. Which one was which didn’t really matter, in the end.

He took the anger and the fear that bubbled up inside of him and let them grow, welling up into one singular drive to protect. And, as the empty space around him seemed to vanish, he realized that he was growing, too.

The bracelet was the first thing to go, the connecting thread snapping at the pressure of his changing form. The tracer cuff followed easily, metal crumpling, and then the bars of the birdcage bent until they snapped, and then he was free of every restraint at last.

Virgil half-expected to come back to a human shape at that very moment, but Puff was still more than present in their mind, and as much as he loved their humans, there was clearly a superior option to better keep them all safe.

He flickered up like the flame tongues of a rising bonfire, or a bolt of energy connecting the earth and heavens, until he was big enough that his wings spread and met the adjacent walls of the throne chamber.

Every eye in the room was upon him, and when he growled, it was like the rolling crashes of a thunderstorm. Some of the monsters cowered away from that alone, turning tail and fleeing.

The Witch looked up at him and cackled, exuberant where they should be terrified.

“I knew there was something there, something different! You may have changed shape, little dragon, but my thrall isn’t so weak as to be influenced by size. You’ve only made your hoard’s end that much easier for me!”

Virgil could see the three of them behind the Witch, crowded together and staring up at him with equal parts apprehension and hope. His hoard wouldn’t be hurt a single moment longer. Not by the Dragon Witch, and certainly not by him.

The Witch lifted their arm and snapped their finger at him.

“Stop all that noise, little dragon,” they commanded, and the compulsive magic washed over him and rolled right off.

Slowly, deliberately, he took a step forward, and his growl rose in volume, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

There was a heady feeling of satisfaction at the way the Witch stumbled back, the mask barely hiding their shock. “I said stop, right now.”

The magic passed, easier and easier to ignore. The Witch would never control this body again, no matter what form it took.

With a howl of wordless anger, they vanished from sight, and all the monsters that remained turned to him with aggression writ in every line of their bodies. An unfamiliar sensation welled up in his chest, waiting to be released.

Might as well see what this familiar-unfamiliar form could manage.

Working off Puff’s instincts, Virgil opened his mouth and let something click in the back of his throat before exhaling what looked like thick, rolling smoke. It filled the air, clumping together dense and heavy, and Virgil blinked, recognizing the form of it.

Huh. Storm clouds.

In the next moment, lightning sparked, shooting down and lancing straight through every attacking creature. Virgil darted a few steps closer, somewhat alarmed that friendly fire might hit the others, but even as they hunched down in surprise, any electricity that neared them seemed to simply veer away.

Of course it did, the more draconic part of him crowed smugly. No magic of his would hurt his hoard.

He went to his humans anyhow, moving slow so as to not startle them. He was the oversized one, now.

He needn’t have worried. As soon as he lowered his head into range, Patton lunged forward, wrapping his snout in the best hug he could manage. He was clearly sniffing back tears. “Oh, kiddo, we were so worried!”

Roman was attempting to casually lean on his sword, but there was clear relief in his gaze, too. “We should have known better than to believe the Dragon Witch would get the better of you, huh, Puff?”

Virgil huffed a cloud of colorless vapor into Roman’s face. Affectionately.

“We should celebrate our reunion later, once we’re safely out of here,” Logan pointed out over Roman’s faux-indignant complaints.

Despite his own words, Logan took a moment to reach out, gently placing a hand on the side of Virgil’s head as though to reassure himself that he was real. Virgil leaned into the touch slightly, an odd pleased chur bubbling up from his chest.

As his eyes slitted nearly shut in happiness, he caught movement from the corner of his vision.

The Witch, holding one hand aloft and casting something that made his skin prickle, aiming not at him, but at the other Sides.

Quicker than he could think, his body was moving, curling around his precious people with only a second to brace himself before the attack struck him solidly in the back.

It seemed a simple strike at first, barely breaking skin, and he regained his footing as the others rose to his defense with a ferocity that made his chest feel strangely pressurized. Between the three of them, the Witch was more than outmatched, and they were finally forced to flee.

It was only then that Virgil noticed the feeling of rot and fever spreading along his skin.

He stumbled, and then lay down heavily as his energy dipped well below what was sustainable. The others fluttered around him like moths, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Virgil let out a sigh, almost too exhausted to be panicked. He’d really thought for a moment that he’d pull it off, that he could deal with the backlash of the huge, energy-draining form on his own in private and maintain this fragile balance. So much for that.

On his next exhale, there was a flash-crack as the transformation came crashing back down on him, leaving him snapped back into the form he’d abandoned. Anxiety.

Around him, there was a stunned silence to replace the earlier clamor. He forced himself to blink his eyes open, resisting the urge to squint and see them more clearly. He didn’t really want to see what kinds of expressions they were wearing.

Whatever the Witch had cursed him with was still active, burning him up from the inside-out like the awful fever Thomas had gotten when he was ten. If the others weren’t going to take the opportunity to discorporate him, the poisoned injury would manage just fine on its own. And he’d just gotten back, too.

At least the others weren’t in danger anymore. Hopefully, Thomas would be okay until he reformed.

… Who was he kidding? Thomas had managed fine all these days with him gone. He would probably be better off without Anxiety, just like everyone had always said.

Still, he was leaving the others without being punished for the deception he’d been subjecting them all to for so long. He was leaving them without any real answers at all.

“Sorry,” he managed to grit out, barely able to think past the blood rushing in his ears. It seemed to break the fragile silence, because the others all began speaking at once, creating an indecipherable tangle of noise.

Soundlessly, Virgil passed out.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #tsits #tiny dragon virgil #the shapes in the silence #writing #my writing #i have been informed that this is not a better cliffhanger #oops.#:)#g/t

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foilfreak · 4 years ago

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 5

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 Link below)

This was a bad idea... no, actually, scratch that. This wasn’t just a bad idea...

‘THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA’ Salvatore thought to himself, as he frantically hid beneath a large blue tarp covering a couple of old, rotting shipping crates, his body trembling uncontrollably and his shoulders heaving from the terrified and panicked state Salvatore had managed to work himself into.

Now, for those of you who may be wondering why Salvatore was currently hiding behind a bunch of crates like prey hiding from the hunter, despite being in the safety of his own reservoir-

“Hello?”

-that would be why.

Yes, the 2 days that Salvatore had been given to prepare for his gift’s arrival had come and gone faster than the disfigured man could have ever imagined. And while he’d done a marvelous job of cleaning up the reservoir to make it suitable for the beautiful young lady who’d now be calling this place ‘home’, what he hadn’t anticipated having to deal with was the full blown panic attack he got the second the villagers arrived to release her into his custody. Thankfully, his anxiety grew more manageable when one of the villagers explained that, due to Nadine’s tendency toward violent behavior, combined with her superhuman strength, Mother Miranda had gone ahead and given the young woman a nice heavy dose of sedative to keep her asleep throughout the journey to the reservoir, as well as for a couple of hours afterwards, too.

You know… just in case.

After the villagers finally left, Salvatore closed and locked the gate behind them before turning his attention to the large wooden coffin that, according to the men who’d carried it here, contained his long awaited gift from Mother Miranda.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Salvatore takes the metal key the villagers had given him and slowly, but eagerly, unlocked and opened the wooden vessel, gasping in shock and awe as the sight of Nadine’s perfectly angelic face finally came into the light. He wasn’t sure how this was possible, but somehow the young woman looked even more perfect than the first time he saw her, the soft glow of the early morning sun reflecting off her blue scaly skin in a way that gives her a gorgeous, almost iridescent shine.

The continued nudeness of Nadine’s body, while mesmerizing to look at, did unfortunately make the act of keeping his hands to himself rather difficult, and Salvatore quickly found himself grappling with his inner demons as he contemplated reaching in and taking a quick feel, just a quick one, if only for the sake of finally figuring out what on earth her skin was made out of.

Was it smooth and silky to allow for rapid aquatic maneuverability, like that of an eel, or did her soft, feminine exterior hide a rougher, more textured sort of skin, like that of a shark or a whale?

Oh how Salvatore longed, with every fiber of his disgusting, twisted being, to reach inside that wooden carrier and run his hands over the mutant woman’s perfect little body, every atom in him aching to touch, hold, kiss, lick, bite, and devour every square millimeter of this gorgeous specimen, blurring and melting the lines of reality that once separated them until you couldn’t tell where beast ended and where beauty began.

But he refrained.

As much as Salvatore desperately wanted to give in to the primal desires of his still-human mind and mostly-human body, he instead decided to give the young woman some time to wake up first, guessing that she probably wouldn’t want some random stranger, much less one that looks like him, touching her without her permission. So with a deep breath, and a strong swallowing of his raging libido, Salvatore stepped away from the crate Nadine was sleeping in, pocketing the key in case Mother wanted it back later, before turning around and beginning to hobble back toward the lake to complete the few minor tasks he hadn’t managed to get to before the villagers arrived earlier.

It would be well into the afternoon, nearly evening by this point, before Salvatore heard so much as a peep from Nadine. Mother Miranda must not have been kidding when she said she’d given the young woman enough sedative to knock her out for hours. If it weren’t for the fact that she was still breathing, Salvatore might have thought her dead after this amount of time.

Unfortunately for Salvatore, it would appear as though Nadine taking ages to awaken from her drug induced slumber would be the least of the deformed man’s concerns, quickly overrun and forgotten about in the blind panic Salvatore went into once the young woman’s voice, soft and slightly high pitched, though a bit scratchy from lack of use, calls out from, presumably, the spot where Salvatore had left her by the front gate.

The heavenly tone bounces and echoes off the wood and water of the surrounding area, filling the reservoir with a song-like magic that made Salvatore’s knees buckle weakly in reverence, and his stomach want to turn itself inside out from complete and utter terror. Hit with the sudden realization that Salvatore was going to have to actually look at AND speak to Nadine now that she’d awoken, and at the same time no less, immediately sends the mutant man tumbling into a full blown panic, resulting in Salvatore locating the nearest solid structure, the tarp and crates in this case, and throwing himself underneath it, hoping and praying that if he remained quiet for long enough, Nadine would lose interest and go somewhere else-

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

-Unfortunately Salvatore wasn’t a man who had his hopes and prayers answered terribly often, and today seemed to be no different than usual.

Despite being given extra security due to the rapid approach of nightfall, Salvatore didn’t even dare breathe as the sound of footsteps passed by his hiding spot, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest as Nadine came within just inches of finding him. This is it, the jig is up, there was absolutely no doubt in Salvatore’s mind that Nadine was mere seconds away from pulling the tarp back to reveal his horrible and disgusting self, scrunched up into the tightest little ball between the narrow spaces of the crates.

Closing his teary eyes and accepting his fate, Salvatore merely sat and waited for the inevitable moment of shocked silence after the tarp had been lifted, followed by the sound of Nadine’s smooth and rich voice bursting his eardrums with a piercingly shrill and terrified shriek, as well the heavy booming of feet against wood as she ran away from him, disgusted, horrified, and appalled by so much as having to look at the monster that Salvatore was, much less do anything else.

“Ah man, I could have sworn I saw someone around here, earlier,” the low but feminine voice of Nadine said aloud, sounding quite dejected as she leaned against the blue tarp covering Salvatore’s hiding spot.

“Maybe they just went out to look for food, and will be back later?” Nadine says to herself, sounding more optimistic than before, though her hopefulness fades as quickly as it arrived when she continues with, “Then again… maybe the poor bastard caught a glimpse of me as I stumbled around and took off in terror at the sight of me. I suppose I can't really blame him… not with the way I look now, at least.”

Nadine pauses, trailing off for a moment as Salvatore remains rooted in his spot, hands clamped firmly over his mouth and nose to prevent any noise from escaping, despite the increasing burning sensation from his human lungs, which, despite their somewhat shaky ability to do their prescribed role ever since the cadou mutations screwed him up, still very much needed air going in and out of them if Salvatore wanted them to continue functioning at all.

The young woman remained in that spot leaning against the tarp-covered crates for a few more moments, not saying or doing anything as far as Salvatore could tell, before the sound of shuffling and more footsteps, softer and less hurried than the ones he’d heard earlier, caught his attention.

Silence persists for another moment, causing Salvatore to grow curious the longer he waits. And so, despite his earlier reservations, Salvatore can’t help but shift his position slightly so that he could peek through a narrow space between the wall of crates, just enough to give him a solid view of Nadine, who currently stood with her back to him just a few feet away from where the mutated man was hiding. Her gaze seemed transfixed on the lake’s surface, or perhaps it was less the water that held her gaze, but the reflection staring back at her from the mirror-like surface.

Even without seeing her face, Salvatore could tell that the young woman was afraid and in pain, and his heart wrenched agonizingly as he watched her beautiful form shrink in on itself. Her arms curled around her body defensively, as if trying to hide herself shamefully from any potential onlookers, while her torso slumped limply forward, shoulders shaking heavily as she sobbed quietly to herself in the ever growing darkness of evening time.

“Whatever, it’s not like it matters anyways,” the young woman sobs dejectedly after a while, pointlessly rubbing the tears from her face away, only for them to be quickly replaced as new ones fell. “Even if somebody did actually live here, it’s not like anyone would even want to help a disgusting abomination like me... much less have anything else to do with me.”

The sound of Nadine jumping off the dock and into the cold lake water below pales in comparison to the sound of Salvatore’s whole world turning itself upside down from beneath the large blue tarp under which he was hidden.

Disgusting abomination?

Nadine?

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

Of all the things Salvatore has ever heard in his entire life, this one has to be the most ridiculous thing by far.

Salvatore was a disgusting abomination, that much he was more than aware of and had long since accepted, as painful as it still was to admit from time to time. But Nadine… Why Nadine was quite easily the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, save for perhaps Mother Miranda herself maybe, which was certainly a very high standard to be compared to in Salvatore’s book. While the young woman did indeed have several mutations that would make going back to her previous life almost impossible, that didn’t mean she was disgusting, or an abomination.

Not to Salvatore she wasn’t, at least.

The fact that the poor young woman thought this of herself sent a sharp, stabbing pain directly into his heart, practically tearing him apart from the inside out as he frantically thought of something, anything he could do to make the tiny woman feel better.

Thinking back to when he’d watched her just moments ago, he remembers the way in which her arms and hands curled around herself as she sobbed, looking like they were attempting to cover as much exposed skin as physically possible. How Nadine could call herself an abomination when she looked like the picture perfect definition of beauty, Salvatore didn’t know, but what he did know was that women, at least the women he was used to, always enjoyed receiving pretty things with which they could cover and decorate themselves, like dresses and jewelry.

And luckily for Salvatore, he just so happens to know of a few places where he might be able to acquire both of those things.

With a quick peek from beneath the tarp before taking off, Salvatore quickly makes his way toward the exit gate, barely managing to close the gate behind him and pull his cloak over himself before sprinting, as much as his mangled body would allow anyways, down the snowy path that would lead him to the estates of the only two people Salvatore can think of to help him in this messy situation.

Hopefully Alcina and Donna won’t be terribly upset with him for stopping by unannounced.

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mandalorewhore · 5 years ago

Text

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

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

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

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

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

“You can carry it from now on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wish they would fear you like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He waves back. “You as well, girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost funny how quickly things go south.

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

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

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

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

The blast misses by a few inches.

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

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

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

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

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

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

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

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

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

He saved your ass. Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The walk back to the Crest is short.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so you do.

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

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

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

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

Wear them proudly.

And so you do.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #fanfic #smut fic #mando x you #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian fanfic #smut #din djarin #star wars #star wars fic #fanfiction

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javajunkieao3 · 4 years ago

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Never Have I Ever: Post-Series Fic

Ben Gross prided himself on being smart. And falling in love with Devi Vishwakumar? Well, that was just about the dumbest thing he could do.

But, it happened anyway.

He didn’t exactly know when, but somewhere between first grade and watching her dance with that tool, Paxton Hall-Yoshida, she had gone from the person he always wanted to beat to someone he genuinely hoped would win. Because she deserved that. After everything she went through with her dad and then everything after, she deserved a win.

But, did that win have to be him?

“Of course, it’s him,” Ben said, voice colored with defeat and just a hint of indignation. He still hated losing. Even if he technically wasn’t in this game. Aneesa was waiting for him over by the punch. “It’s always been him.”

Beside him, Eleanor said, “What? No, it hasn’t. After you took her to Malibu, she wanted to choose you.”

Ben listened incredulously as Eleanor explained how she and Fabiana had talked Devi out of choosing him. It was fucked up, and he was going to tell her as much, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Devi, imagining how different things would have been. It would have been him with her, not that glorified meat puppet.

“So, just for the record, it hasn’t always been him.”

Eleanor walked off after dropping her figurative bomb and he stayed rooted in place, not knowing what to do or think next. He wasn’t used to this level of indecisiveness and he probably would have just stayed there, staring at Devi dance with another guy, if Aneesa hadn’t come over, sliding her hand over his shoulder.

“Hey, I thought you were meeting me over by the punch,” she said, glancing over at where he had just been staring. “Oh wow, good for Devi.”

Aneesa looked up at Ben, noting the tense set of his jaw. “But…you don’t think that.”

“What?” he said immediately, finally looking away from the slow train wreck happening across the dance floor. “I don’t care about them. I mean, he’s a tool who, based on what I’ve seen, can barely read above an eighth grade level. But, I don’t care.”

“Uh, yeah, you do.”

“Aneesa-“

“Ben, I saw the way you were looking at them. At her.”

He went to argue, but then realized he had no defense. Aneesa ducked her chin to her chest.

“Okay. So, I guess I’m going to go now.” She turned to leave, but then stopped, turning back. “Don’t mess this up for her?”

He didn’t know what he hated more, the implication that he would mess things up or the fact that Aneesa was maybe a little right. The song ended and he watched Paxton and Devi kiss before Paxton dipped his mouth to her ear. Devi nodded at whatever he said, and then Paxton walked away, not letting go of her hand until the distance made it necessary. Devi’s grin widened and Ben hated Paxton even more.

Devi stood alone on the dance floor for a moment, seeming blissfully content, and then she caught his gaze. Ben noticed that her grin dimmed slightly and then she walked over, clasping her hands nervously in front of her.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say,” she began.

“No, actually, you don’t.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Okay. Then, what are you going to say?”

I know you wanted to choose me.

“I’m happy for you, Devi.”

It wasn’t what she expected, and not what he wanted, so they both felt out of sorts. But then her shoulders slackened, a genuine smile spreading on her face, and Ben knew he did the right thing. Because she deserved the win. Even if it wasn’t him.

“Thanks, Ben.”

Paxton came over with two glasses of punch and handed Devi one, his now free arm going around her waist. He gave Ben a lukewarm hello which, given their history, wasn’t entirely unfounded.

“Anyway, I’ll see you around,” Devi said.

“See you around, David.”

Paxton looked at him strangely, but Devi only smiled wider.

-----

There were only a few weeks left in the school year after the dance, and Ben did his best to keep his distance from Devi. She hovered a bit after learning about his and Aneesa’s breakup, but then they all got busy with finals and then the schoolyear ended. Ben was grateful for the time apart. He didn’t know how long it took to fall out of love with someone, but he figured summer break’s three Devi-free-months should do the trick.

That summer, he lined up a volunteer program to pad his college applications just like every other summer. He was supposed to help out with pro bono work at his dad’s firm, but at the last minute his dad hired a law clerk instead so that he could bill out his time at a markup. So, he was stuck with a retirement home. Everyone volunteered at retirement homes, which meant it was the last thing Ben wanted to put on his resume. But, there was nothing else left and it was better than nothing, so he grudgingly accepted a spot at one about fifteen minutes from his house and prepared himself for a summer of moth balls and stories about “the war”.

Instead, he got Devi.

“I thought you were working at your dad’s firm this summer,” Devi said.

“Something came up. Weren’t you supposed to do Habitat for Humanity?”

Devi nodded. “I had an incident with a hammer. Apparently, you aren’t supposed to bedazzle it.”

Ben smirked. “You bedazzled your hammer?”

“Oh, yeah. I added feathers, too. Honestly, it was an upgrade.”

“I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to take you,” he mocked.

Devi shrugged. “Probably for the best. I mean, would you want a house built by me?”

“You make a fair point.”

“So, here we are,” Devi said. “Slumming it at the retirement home.”

“You may want to say that a little louder. I don’t think the guy in the back with the hearing aid heard you.”

“But, you know what, if anyone can make the best out this, it’s you and me, Gross.”

She flashed him a smile and he felt it all the way down to his toes. This was going to be a long three months.

----

It turned out, Ben was surprisingly adept at being around old people, and Devi was an immediate crowd pleaser.

“Even Marvin likes me,” Devi said. “And I’m pretty sure he’s a low-key racist.”

“Not that low key. He specifically asked me to help him fill out a banking form yesterday because, as he put it, your people are good at that.”

“Damn. Remind me to not give him an extra pudding cup.”

One of the long-time residents, Gladys, rolled by with her walker and said, “Benjamin, don’t forget my granddaughter is visiting this afternoon. I told her all about you.”

“I won’t forget, Gladys.”

“Look at you, Benjamin.” He rolled his eyes. “Using the residents to get a date. Honestly, it’s sort of genius. If I wasn’t dating Paxton, I would totally use these guys to pimp myself out.”

“Slow down, David. Gladys came to me about her granddaughter. I’m not that desperate. I have options.”

“Sure, you do, Ben.”

“But, um, you and Paxton? That’s going well?”

He didn’t know why he asked. You don’t ask the girl you’re in love with how her relationship is going, but he asked, and now he had no choice but to hear the answer.

“Yeah, it is,” Devi said. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she smiled, and Ben wished he could sink directly down into the ground.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. It is.”

That afternoon, he asked Gladys’ granddaughter out on a date.

----

Ben could always tell when Devi and Paxton were fighting by her mood. She had never been good at hiding her emotions, and while in a relationship, that hadn’t changed. He noticed it a few weeks in. She went back into the employees’ area and shoved her bag forcefully into the cubby hole.

“Did the cubby hole do something to you?” he asked.

“No,” she said stubbornly. “The cubby hole is doing nothing. Which is the problem. The cubby hole just sits there playing video games all day. Which, sure, I can play some Mario Kart here and there. I’m a team player. But, at a certain point, enough with the stupid video games. I am not dating freaking Yoshi!”

Ben was quiet for a moment and then said, “I didn’t know a cubby hole had apposable thumbs to play video games.”

She shot him a look, but then couldn’t help but laugh.

“The cubby hole was a metaphor.”

“Yeah, I caught on to that.”

----

Ben found it remarkably easy to be around her, even as his feelings stayed rooted to the core, and at a certain point he became resigned to it all. Maybe Devi was just one of those people he would always have feelings for. Isn’t that what they said about your first love? You could move on, but you never really forgot it. So, he would love her and just move on.

He dated Gladys’ granddaughter, enjoying himself but never really feeling anything beneath surface level. But, she was nice enough, and Gladys was delighted by the pairing, even as the volunteer coordinator was not.

“Just don’t have sex anywhere on property,” she had said in a huff.

“I, uh, won’t. Thanks for the clarification.”

He was dating someone else. He and Devi were finally sort of back to how they were before. And then he accidentally ate pecans.

“Oh my God, Ben, your mouth is getting huge,” Devi said, eyes wide with concern.

“I am so sorry,” Gladys’ granddaughter said. “I thought the muffin was banana-walnut, not banana-pecan.”

“Do you have an Epi-Pen or something?” Devi barked at the terrified looking volunteer coordinator.

“No, and even if we did, I don’t think we can technically use it on a non-resident.”

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Do you see him?” She pointed at Ben, whose face was rapidly growing in size. “You know what, I’ll just handle it myself.”

Devi dragged him out to her car, which was concerning since he knew she only just got her license the week before, and he also knew based on what she told him that her passing was a total fluke.

“I think I’d rather go into anaphylactic shock in there,” he said, already turning back toward the retirement home.

“Don’t be dumb, Ben,” she said, forcefully pulling him back to the car. “You are not going into anaphylactic shock. I’ll take you to my mom’s office and she can give you a shot or something. She’s only a few minutes away.”

He reluctantly got into the car, and Devi started her car, forgetting to put it into reverse before she pressed on the gas. The car lurched forward, nearly hitting the one parked in front of them, and Ben said, “Please don’t let me die in this car.”

“No one is dying today, Ben Gross. So, calm down, okay? I got this.”

It was not exactly a smooth ride, but true to her word, five minutes later they pulled into a parking spot in front of Dr. Vishwakumar’s office. They burst into the office, Ben now leaning a bit on Devi as it became harder to breath.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going into anaphylactic shock,” he gasped.

“No, you are not. You are fine.” Devi’s words were calm, but her tone was not.

Nalini Vishwakumar walked out of her office and stopped short when she saw Devi and Ben.

“What in the world – Benjamin, what happened to your face?”

“He ate pecans which, turns out, he’s also allergic to,” Devi said quickly. “Can you give him a shot or something?”

“Devi, you should have taken him to the emergency room!” Nalini said, rushing over to her daughter and Ben and bringing them back to an examination room.

“The hospital was farther away.”

Ben became to gasp for breath and Nalini hissed, “He’s going into anaphylactic shock.”

Ben could barely breathe, but he managed a, “Told you.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know!” Devi said loudly.

One shot of epinephrine and an IV full of antihistamines and cortisone later, Ben could breathe again, but Nilani made him stay for a while longer so that she could observe him. She put he and Devi in one of the unused examination rooms, and told them to let her know if he had any more trouble breathing. Devi sat next to him, her knees pulled tight into her chest.

“I’m sorry that I almost killed you.”

“You’re not getting valedictorian that easily.”

He was joking because, yeah, his throat had almost closed up and she probably should have taken him to the hospital and not her mom’s office, but it was fine now. Except, when he looked over at Devi, she still looked scared. After a beat, she launched herself toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing her back. “I’m okay.”

She pulled away and gave his arm a light punch. “You really scared me.”

“Yeah, well, next time I’ll double check my banana-walnut muffin actually has walnuts.”

“And I’ll believe you when you say your throat is closing up.”

Devi’s phone rang and he saw Paxton’s name flash on the screen. He asked her, “Do you need to get that?”

He watched her hesitate before sending it to voicemail.

----

Devi and Paxton broke up a week later. He found out from one of the retirement home residents, who he overheard telling Devi, “You’re better off, Devi. Take it from an old woman. You have the rest of your life to be with one person. Now is the time to be free. Sow your wild oats, if you will.”

“Um, I don’t really know what that last part means, but I feel you. I mean, I’m too young and hot to be tied down, right?”

“Exactly. You know, I have a grandson you might be interested in. He’s pre-med.”

“I appreciate the offer, Beatrice. And offering me your grandson after I just broke up with my boyfriend? Savage. But, I think I need to take some time by myself.”

That afternoon during bingo, Ben casually brought up the breakup after calling out B-27.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. She ran the machine and picked out the next ball. “B-13!” She put the ball down and said in a regular volume voice, “We just didn’t have that much in common.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Ben said automatically.

“Wow, okay,” Devi said with a laugh that didn’t exactly sound reassuring.

“I didn’t mean,..” he trailed off, because he kind of did. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.” He paused and picked up the next ball. “N-7!”

“Bingo!”

----

Summer was coming to a close, and so was their time at the retirement home. For some reason, Ben felt an impending sense of dread. Sure, he would still see Devi, but it would be different. Everyone else would be added back to the mix, including Paxton.

Their last big event at the retirement home was a movie night. They set up a projector in one of the recreation rooms and made it up like an old theater, complete with velvet ropes and individual little bags of popcorn. They even wore old-timey usher costumes they rented from a local costume shop.

“Does yours also smell like nachos?” Devi asked.

“Yeah. I’m trying not to think about it.”

The movie was It Happened One Night, and Devi and Ben sat in the back, watching the movie along with the residents. It was secretly one of Ben’s favorites. He and his mom had spent little time together when he was growing up, but she shared with him her love of old movies.

It was the Jericho scene, where Clark Gable’s character was setting up a sheet between him and Claudette Colbert in their motel room. He stripped down to just his undershirt, and Devi mused, “Clark Gable was super bangable.”

“Shh,” Ben said. “This is my favorite part.”

Devi looked over at him and grinned. Feeling her gaze, he glanced over and felt his breath stop when their eyes met. They were close, and in the darkness her eyes seemed to glow. He always thought she had pretty eyes. Even before, when he hated her more times than he liked her. He felt an urge to lean forward. It would be so easy. Just the slightest lean and his mouth would be against hers. But, that would just be a kiss in the back of a dark room. He wanted more.

“Eleanor told me that you wanted to choose me after Malibu.”

She blinked rapidly. “What?”

“After you scattered your dad’s ashes. She said you wanted to choose me, but they made you also consider Paxton.”

“Okay.”

“Is that true?”

Devi didn’t answer, so he kept talking.

“And she said that you started the rumor about Aneesa because you thought that we were dating and you were jealous. And, you see, I’ve had it in my mind all this time that it was always Paxton. And that I was, I don’t know, some detour on the way, but-“

“You were not a detour,” Devi said immediately. “You were…you were perfect. And I messed us up.”

“So, Eleanor was telling the truth?”

Devi nodded. “Yeah, she was.”

Ben took a deep breath. “Devi. I’m going to kiss you now.”

She nodded, all business, but he could hear the nerves in her voice when she said, “Okay. Thank you for the advanced warning.”

He leaned in and captured her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. And in a way, they did. There was a noise behind them, and they pulled apart abruptly. Their supervisor stood over them and said, "Remember what I said about no sex on property?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Devi said. "Who is having sex in these gross costumes?"

"You'd be surprised."

The supervisor walked away, and Devi looked at Ben. "You don't think she meant..."

"I think she absolutely did."

"I need to take this off immediately."

#never have I ever #ben x devi #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #never have I ever fanfiction #post-series fic

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