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mewberii · 3 years

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Streamer!Scaramouche [2]

thanks for all the support in the first part! i wrote a second part where scaramouche plays genshin + the reader comes in (i tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, so let me know if there’s something off!). you’re a close friend of scaramouche and also a voice actor!

i had been planning this since i wrote the first part, but because i was busy and uninspired i couldn’t finish it. but here it is and it’s actually pretty long (over 5k words...)! i hope you guys will like this!! obviously he’s a little nicer than he is in game but,,, for the sake of the plot + it being a modern au, it had to be done sjnfdskjf

He was selected to play the beta for genshin because of his popularity and tbh he really wanted to play it

The game hadn’t really caught his eye all that much when he first heard about it but he saw how everyone online went crazy over it (plus other streamers who also were selected to play it in early access kept talking about it) and he became more curious to know what it would be like and if it’d live to everyone’s expectations

However he couldn’t really play it until it was officially released because he had a very busy schedule, and when he saw other streams of people playing it he was,,, lowkey jealous because it did look fun

When it was finally released and the game finished downloading and installing, he went live right away

And since so many people were looking forward to seeing him play plus the game was getting so popular so fast, that stream of when he first played hit his biggest milestone of live viewers ever

ANYWAYS skip forward to further into the game

when it comes to the gacha,,,

we’ve established that this boy is loaded. he won’t hesitate to throw some big amounts of money at the game to get every single character and weapon he wants and get their constellations to the max

i feel like he’d make little bets (and it works as a way to thank the chat for the support) like “if i get (insert newest character) in the first 50 pulls, i will gift 50 subs”

he’d be SOOOOOOO LUCKY it’d make everyone who doesn’t play think that it must be very easy to get the 5 stars or that the drop rate must be very high,,,

so in the end he’d have to gift the subs and it’d be funny to see the chat go absolutely crazy because everyone is commenting at the same time trying to see if they got lucky too and got the sub

but the chat goes so fast that they can’t even see their own comment after they send it sNDJGDJSK

he’d end up turning subs mode on for a while because it goes crazy

and that’s when he’d see people going “I GOT THE SUB-” all excited and he can’t help but chuckle and congratulate them for being one of the lucky ones

probably another game he can use to play with some subs once in a while! they could play co-op and when he’s a very high level he’d go to the worlds of some of his subs with lower level to help them with whatever they need

SO, LITTLE SKIP HERE

this is where i want the reader to slide into the picture

you’d be a voice actor, and also you have been a friend of his for a very long time

he met you even before he started streaming and you were always so supportive of him, as he was of every and each of your dreams

in fact, he would have invited you over more than once to stream with him

people don’t say anything bc they’re afraid of scaramouche banning them (it’s happened before) + they understand it can be disrespectful... but…

some people lowkey ship you two a little bit,,,,,, you didn’t hear it from me. scaramouche don’t ban me----

so one day he’s making another livestream playing genshin (sponsored by mihoyo to promote the newest update and event) and they’re going to release a new character

AND he has told everyone that you are the voice actor of the new character, who will be introduced in the event and is also getting their own banner

so everyone is very curious of what they’ll be like, if scaramouche will try to get them (obviously he will, he has every single character…. the amount of money he has put into the game…. just thinking of it gives me the heebie-jeebies)

could he even,,, main them,,,,

spoiler: he won’t because he’ll stay honest till the end (and no hard feelings) but there are other characters that he has built up to the max just like them and still work better with the way he plays but he’ll still find a chance to use them often

he didn’t know anything of what the character you voiced would be like because you wanted to keep it a surprise and he knew his audience would enjoy seeing his first reactions

I think the character you voice in the game would have the role that Scaramouche has in the actual game, and their design would be fairly similar (maybe similar color palette) to the design fans made for him as a genshin character (the one i mentioned that he uses for popup notifs of subscriptions and all!)

needless to say he’d absolutely love their personality and the charisma you showed in their lines

of course when he finally gets them he shows everything about them including all their voice lines and he compliments y/n’s voice acting… that was the first time people suspected that....

mayhaps… scaramouche….

has feelings for you....

it’s in the soft gaze in his eyes,,, the gentle smile on his lips,,, his soft voice when saying “I think this one is my favorite line of theirs”

and just how BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL his laugh sounds when someone comments he should invite you and ask you to do that voiceline live for him and everyone else

he’d jokingly reach for his phone and be like “should i call them? i could”

(but he wouldn’t because he doesn’t want to disturb you, you may be busy, considering you still hadn’t replied to the messages he sent to you before he started the stream a few hours ago)

if anyone dares be mean to you saying you got the chance to voice act for genshin just bc of scaramouche

or implies that he did something to get you there he’ll get quite mad even tho he won’t speak up about it (he might if enough people say it)

people can see something shift in his gaze,,,, and he bans them permanently right away

it’d be kinda funny when he does those “reading unban requests” streams and he goes past immediately rejecting people who said those kind of stuff, not even reading the apologies JSNKJFNDSJKGNSDK

some people say he’s too strict about it but literally his stream his rules. people who don’t like him should just not watch him

and people who like him should NOT speak badly about you or doubt your talent and effort, which is what brought you that opportunity in the first place

one day he’d be streaming playing the game, he had been using your character and gathering materials to get their last ascension

and at one point he’d grab his phone and look at the screen for a second before putting it back down and saying he had planned something else for tonight besides playing genshin for a while

then, the doorbell would ring (before he could even close the game-) and it’d be heard from his setup room so people in the chat heard it and they’re all like???

it’s definitely not takeout because scaramouche never orders takeout when he’s on his own, he usually cooks for himself and just orders it when he’s with friends and they all feel like eating something different

actually, offtopic, but i have a feeling he’d be very responsible when it comes to food and like he’d cook himself proper meals all perfectly balanced and all- he could afford having someone cook for him but his house = his privacy and personal space so he’d rather do it himself

it’s like, past 10pm, so no way it would be a package or mail at that time

and then he says “we have a visitor tonight”

and then the chat goes crazy saying “CHILDE” “HARBINGERS” but mostly “Y/N!??!?/PLEASE LET IT BE Y/N”

AND IT WAS YOU!!!!

and omg you brought takeout--------

it had been a while since they had seen you in scaramouche’s stream and you didn’t have your own channel (even though there were many people who encouraged you to open one)

SO everyone was very excited

i feel like scaramouche wouldn’t be the biggest fan of eating on camera so you guys would put the food away so that you can eat it later on your own without an audience

and you two would just spend a while talking to the chat, watching videos

AND reviewing fanart and fanmade content together!! it’d be so cute especially fanarts of the two of you together, little animatics or comics of funny clips or memes from his streams of you two,,,

someone made a little felt plushie of the genshin character you voiced and the way you COOED because it was SO cute

only those who were truly paying attention were able to notice the soft smile on scaramouche’s lips and the way he looked at you as you gushed over how cute the little plushie is and how talented the person who made it is!!

also you’d tell him you saw signora make a stream where she talked to some of her fans on discord individually to give them advice on their life/problems (nothing too serious) and it was very funny and you wanted to do that with him someday

and he’s like “that… could be a huge mess. people could say some crazy stuff” and you’re like “NO but i talked to her about it and she said she got her mods to talk to them first and approve them before they moved them up to the channel where she was to talk to her”

and he’s like “still…….. what if people lie and then when they get to talk to us they say something-”

and you’re like “BOY!!!! DO YOU NOT TRUST YOUR FANS *GASP*” and everyone in the chat is also going “GASP” “HE DOESN’T TRUST US…” “IS THIS YOUR IDOL…..?” “SAY SORRY” (all good fun, obviously he’d love to talk to everyone if he could make sure there won’t be anything disrespectful said)

SO!!!!! you two say you’ll plan to do something like that soon and everyone is very excited, they can already tell it’ll be both super cute and hilarious

before he ends the stream, you two watch some videos together

some are about some upcoming videogames and he talks about them and what he knows and explaining things to you... he is.. so knowledgeable…

the way you look at him as he goes into a little rant about it… cinematic parallels with the way he looked at you before

ONCE AGAIN, people aren’t blind. they notice. but they keep it to themselves bc scary scara (the way i had to resist overusing this one joke with his name-)

so the stream ends and you two walk out of the setup room to go to his living room and eat the takeout you brought while watching something on tv

he apologises because the food is cold now, but you brush it off saying it’s ok, you had missed being on his streams and you two can just heat up the food again

he doesn’t look at you in the eyes as he mutters that you know you can join his streams whenever, and instead just says it as he makes his way to the kitchen to heat the food

you join him in the kitchen soon after and tell him you also bought something for dessert and put it in the fridge already before

and honestly he didn’t know how much he wanted to eat that dessert until it was in his fridge, so he can’t stop himself from sighing and saying “god, i love you”

there’s silence for a second, right as the microwave beeps as it finished heating the food

it feels eternal to him, but you immediately started laughing and said jokingly “of course you do! you’re welcome!”

he’s happy you took it as a joke because that’s not how he planned to confess (he didn’t plan to confess anytime soon in the first place) but at the same time ?? he’s lowkey offended inside because? you took it as a joke?? is it so unrealistic that you wouldn’t even think that he meant it romantically?

it’s at that moment that he realises that if he didn’t want to confess before, now he does.

he wouldn’t want anyone to know about how he let that slip because he’s sure no one in you two’s friend group even knows he likes you

but you,,, actually,,,,, were actually caught off guard too because scaramouche wasn’t precisely one for words of affection and he showed his care for everyone with his actions

in fact, you had never heard him say those words before but well- it was kinda nice- if only he meant it as you feel it- but he couldn’t, right? who’d confess their feelings so casually while looking at a dessert in the fridge with desire-------

that night, it gets pretty late and to be honest he’s a little too tired to drive you home as he usually would, so he asks if you’d like to sleep over

it wouldn’t be your first time doing so, not even the first time you stayed unplanned, and he had a couple guest rooms that you could use so you accepted

also, staying for longer meant you could keep watching some more of that series with him without worrying about it getting late

or,,,

“actually” you said in a low voice, almost a whisper, since it was getting late and you two had been in complete silence while watching the series “i lowkey still wanted to stream some more”

he scoffs but then lets out a short chuckle, replying in the same volume

“it’s past 2am, who’s going to watch me stream now?”

“i would” have mercy for his poor heart- “but i’d be the streamer too this time so it doesn’t count”

“what even would we do”

“can we play that co-op game you played with childe? it was so much fun”

had you not brought it up, he wouldn’t have offered that ever because? if he had recently played it with childe he didn’t want to stream it again and make it feel repetitive for his audience

(jokes on him because when genshin came out they put up with it being the only thing he streamed for over a week. they’d rewatch any game if it’s you two playing it)

but to be honest, he didn’t really want to stream anymore that day and just wanted to be with you, just you and no one else

he got up from the couch and walked towards the hallway, making you look up to him in confusion for a second, but then started getting excited knowing this meant he was going to let you play it with him

“i don’t really feel like streaming anymore today, but we can still play it. let’s go”

the next day, you two wake up around the same time and make breakfast together

scaramouche i feel is not very talkative in the mornings

in fact, i feel like he’s just not the most talkative in general. he’s more the type to listen, but it’s different during his streams because he’s doing what he loves and talking about what he loves

and when it comes to you and he talks more it’s because he’s talking to who he loves----

before you’re going to leave and you’re standing at the door about to say goodbye to him, he suddenly speaks up before you can

“do you want to go somewhere tomorrow?”

you raise your eyebrows in curiosity from the sudden request, but then smile at him and nod

“yeah sure! what do you have in min-”

“it’s a date” he said, interrupting you, which was weird enough of him (since he would never interrupt you), but his words were even weirder-

“h-huh?” you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, and scaramouche just repeated his words

on the outside, he looked so casual and just, confident- bUT INSIDE he was actually panicking a little bit

but just a little bit.

After a moment, you smiled at him again, this time somewhat more shily but also excited for your date!

“I look forward to it”

Just with that, you two knew you had made the first step

You weren’t just friends anymore

You two had hung out on your own many times before, in fact and as it was mentioned before, you two had even slept over at his house or yours many times before

but it had all always been purely platonic, and you guys had never even questioned that aspect of it even after realising you had romantic feelings for each other

he’d spend the rest of the day thinking of what you could do the next day, as if he hadn’t been brainstorming for ideas all night either

i feel like he hasn’t gone in many (if not any--) dates before

solely because he has never been interested in romance plus he had never liked someone or at least, not as much as he liked you

and even when he found out he felt something for you, he just always told himself he was okay with how things were, because he’d never experienced anything beyond friendship and didn’t feel the need to try and maybe ruin the friendship

SO he didn’t have many ideas of what a good date could be

he definitely didn’t want a cliché corny date, but he really didn’t have any idea of what was good enough for a date

(and if for future dates you want something he’d consider a “”cliché corny date”” he’d do it for you and actually enjoy it)

the last thing he wanted was to have to ask you what you could do for your date

1- because he didn’t want to show you any side of him that didn’t look like he always has everything under control and he’s always composed (as if you wouldn’t want to see every side of him, even his most vulnerable sides- you’d have to work on that with him when you two become official)

2- he… kind of wanted to surprise you…..

but it really got to the point where he really didn’t know what you’d like the most (or what he’d like the most too) and what he wanted most over anything else is to not disappoint you in you two’s first date

SO he finally texted you asking if there was anything special you wanted to do (and therefore indirectly admitting he……….. just really wanted to ask you out. so much he did it without thinking of what he’d do if you said yes--)

you didn’t seem to mind, and in fact you were happy he asked for your opinion

overall, scaramouche was very independent so he wasn’t one to ask others for advice, opinions or anything, much less for help regarding anything

“how long has it been since we last went to the arcade? we could go there! i heard from childe that they added new games!”

and he’s like !?!?!?? THAT…. is…….. the perfect idea

“that actually sounds perfect” he admitted, and the message brought a big smile to your face

“just don’t get mad at me when you lose at all of them” he sent right after, teasing you, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh out loud

“the last time i won in your favorite game” you reminded him, and even after he read your message, he took a little bit to reply

(he needed a second to put the pieces of his pride together SJNFKJDS)

“don’t get used to it, it won’t happen again”

“we will see about that” the more you two joked like this, the more excited you got thinking about tomorrow

scaramouche was sure now that it’d be a great first date that you’d both remember forever

the next day, it was almost the time for the date and scaramouche was going to pick you up at your house

i feel like scaramouche would be very fashionable and even in his style he doesn’t try to hide that he’s loaded…

not that he cares about buying cheap clothes, literally he’d say if he likes it and it’s good (aka it’s not cheap because it’s made of something that won’t make it last longer than 3 weeks) he’ll get it

but it just so happens that many times… the clothes he likes most are from famous brands…

AND THIS DAY!!!!!! he’s putting together one of his favorite outfits because it’s a special day

it almost hurts me just how nonchalant he’d look on the outside, making it a little hard to know exactly just how much this date meant to him (because as i said he’s not one to be very vocal about his feelings or even his thoughts)

BUT i trust that you… since you know him well…. can see past all that and you know that this is not just anything casual to him. this is special.

STILL!!!! he’d try his best to not let the blush rise to his cheeks and show, as well as to not let his voice shake when he complimented that you looked very good

ANYWAYS i think i think Scaramouche wouldn’t be one for big pda

the most he’d do where anyone can see is hold your hand or put his arm around your waist

WHICH IS WHY he’d try to be all smooth (and he would manage) reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours

he wouldn’t make eye contact because then he’s sure it’ll show on his face that he’s getting somewhat flustered, but he’d still ask if you’re okay with it, to which you said yes

the area where the arcade was is always somewhat crowded so when you two were getting there, scaramouche would tighten the grip on your hand a little bit to make sure you wouldn’t let go and you’d be pulled apart by people trying to walk past however they can

you know that if you two got serious about your relationship, he would want to be the first person to share the news with his fans

BUT since he was so popular now, you two lived in a pretty big city and now were at a popular area (+ scaramouche wouldn’t be the type to try and hide his identity because he’s never had people make a fuss when they recognise him)

you were a little worried someone would see you two and maybe take a picture and post it online and it’d go viral before he can admit it himself

because of that, you end up throwing back to him the question he had asked when he held your hand

“are you sure this is okay?”

your question confused him because he didn’t know what you mean, so he finally looked you in the eyes and waited for you to explain further

“it’s just- what if somebody sees us and recognises you?”

he looked away from you and back at where he was going, taking a few seconds to answer before he just shrugged

“i don’t care”

you softly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you waited for him to say something, and almost missed the way he whispered

“as long as it doesn’t affect you”

for someone who seemed and actually tried to seem to self-sufficient, who appreciated his friends but was also okay on his own because he was absolutely comfortable with himself, he was actually…

more selfless than people would ever know, especially when it came to you

you two would have SO much fun in the arcade, trying every single game many times

this time though, scaramouche won in his favorite game so he lived up to his words

you two won so many tickets you literally didn’t even know what to do with them once you got the couple prizes you were interested in

you bumped into a couple fans of his, so you talked for a while

once again, you were met with suggestions of opening your own streaming channel, and even scaramouche said “i’ve told them that many times too, but they always say they think their streams won’t be fun enough”

and the fans are like “NO!! literally everyone thinks you’re super nice and fun!! of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we’d love it!!”

one of the fans (exaggerating a little as a joke) said “i’ll be your number 1 fan i swear” and the three of you laughed, except scaramouche who just scoffed and smirked

“i am ALREADY their number one fan. but good try” <- scaramouche in his head. say it outloud u coward.

but at the same time it was a joke scaramouche chill pretty much everyone knows you’re their number one fan……. even though you think you’re so smooth………. they just don’t say anything

they were very nice and fun to talk to and you knew scaramouche and you didn’t really want anything else from the prizes, so you offered you two’s tickets to them

“we don’t really need these anymore so maybe you’ll have more use for them!!”

they got SO excited, the way their eyes lit up :( scaramouche is convinced you’re an angel but he’s also very happy to see how joyful his fans got because those were more than enough for the prize they really wanted-

so after that cute little interaction and having used up your energy for competition, you two leave and think of buying some ice cream or a milkshake or something to end the date nicely and to enjoy while you walk back home

the arcade was not exactly very close to where you two lived (it was far from your house, but even farther from his-) so he asked if you were okay with walking back or if you two should get an uber or something, to which you said you were okay

walking back with him meant!! a little more time you could spend with him

and he was happy you said that because he was feeling the same way and still didn’t want the day to end

we’ll see more about the kind of things he likes and dislikes if he’s released as a playing character BUT FOR NOW i really get this vibe that he’d LOVE boba tea

i even think he’d?? enjoy tea in general??? classy boy…

SO you two would end up going to get some boba

it was very touching how, when reading the flavors they had that day, he suddenly and casually went “oh, they have your favorite” and you looked at the one he was pointing at and !!! indeed it was your favorite!!!!!!!

he remembers this kind of details very well

you take the chance to talk some more as you’re walking home

scaramouche asks about your job with voice acting and you tell him that you actually have been recording some new lines for your genshin character lately because in the next update there’ll be an event involving them

he’s looking forward to it but he teases you a little asking if it’s okay for you to spoil him with such information

but it’s okay because it’s not like he’d tell anyone, especially knowing it could get you in trouble

when he drops you off at your house, he has a hard time saying goodbye

literally you’re standing at your door and he’s in front of you, a couple steps away, looking away from you

you don’t say goodbye either, mainly because you know scaramouche is working the courage to say something, and you can also sort of guess what he wants to say

you think of saying it first, but then think that it would make scaramouche proud to be honest about his feelings and confess first

“i’ve liked you for a long time”

you can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face, unconsciously reaching a hand up to slightly cover it

“i feel the same way” you replied to him in a soft voice

he took a deep breath and exhaled it softly, finally lifting up his gaze and making eye contact with you

it was already dark outside, so you couldn’t appreciate the faint rosy blush on his cheeks well

“can i kiss you?”

your eyes widened for a second, not expecting him to ask and if anything, thinking he’d just step forward and do it

so you were a little embarrassed and caught off-guard to reply properly, so you just nodded and put your hand down as he took the last couple steps and his face was right in front of yours

he’d cup your cheek in one of his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin

you closed your eyes, and he looked at you for a second longer before he finally leaned in and closed the short distance that separated your lips

at that moment you both knew that you had been missing on so much more when you two just settled and were content with your friendship

but!! that was about to change now, so it was all worth it

after that, scaramouche would make clear that this would be the first day of your relationship!! and even if he didn’t say it with words, you could just feel his happiness!!

so!! after that, because of work you two got a little busy the next couple months so dates weren’t very frequent

or at least, they weren’t dates like the one you first had

but still whenever you two were free he’d go over to your house, or you’d come over to his to play, stream together, or literally just spend time together doing anything

he wouldn’t let people know you two had started dating straight away (if anything, only his other streamer friends -aka you two’s friends in common- knew)

but the day he said it, he wanted you to be there

SO one day you two were streaming and you were currently reacting to one fanart of you two together

so he looked at you and you made eye contact and it was like you two spoke with your eyes like

“do we tell them now”

“let’s tell them.”

so scaramouche would clear his throat and without closing the fanart, he’d say he has something he wanted to announce

everyone was excited thinking it’d be some new project, maybe involving you

maybe some merch??? and the fanarts had reminded him of it???????

BUT THEN he straightforwardly said

“y/n and i are dating”

and everyone goes aBSOLUTELY CRAZY

amidst the chaos, you two catch a comment saying “will you unban the people who shipped you two” and you laugh

and you look at each other like “did you read that one?” “yeah”

and scaramouche is like “yeah, i guess i will have to unban some people”

and when some get unbanned they’re like “fREEDOM!!!!”

and jokingly they’re all like “APOLOGISE!!!!!!!! SAY SORRY!!!” so he just laughs and you join them being like “!!! apologise!!! you banned them for it and!! look at you now!!”

so he ends up trying to hold in another laugh as he mutters a halfassed ‘sorry’ and everyone starts commenting claps and hearts and celebrating that he apologised. now justice has been made.

the rest of that stream suddenly feels livelier and brighter!! you two are laughing a lot and so is everyone in the chat!!

and also the new genshin event would’ve already just been released that same day so you can talk about some of your experiences with recording or what you thought of it

and scaramouche would let you play it yourself!! (he still hadn’t played it) and it was also the first time you played genshin live!! you’d show people the characters you have and everything and tell them some anecdotes

people would be SHOCKED because you!? don’t have the character you voiced!? D:

and you’re like “yeah… i pulled for them and used up all my primogems and… didn’t get them”

and your banner is back because of the event, so scaramouche won’t let this slide!!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL GET YOUR CHARACTER.

your luck is terrible compared to his so at one point you’ll literally feel bad for how much he’s spending for you to get it

but he doesn’t mind at all and everyone is having fun so!!

and once you finally get them you’re sO HAPPY and everyone in the chat is celebrating

and you think it’s over but scaramouche is like ???? what are you doing?? open the wish page again. you’re going to get them c6.

and you’re like oh my gOD PLEASE NO DON’T SPEND MORE MONEY ON ME FOR THIS

but he won’t listen and he’ll do it

so!!! he’ll always do his best to be the best boyfriend he can be for you!! so you better give him your heart!!!!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshim impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche scenarios #scaramouche headcanons

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djarinsbeskar · 4 years

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gif credit: @di-n for this beauty

EXPLORATION ARC: PART 1 - NEXT TIME

A/N: And so friends, we begin our rapid descent into filth. I have to admit, whenever I write anything remotely sexual, especially in a fic for the first time, I get so flustered worrying that people will think it’s too crude or too much. But then I remembered that this is exactly why y’all are here and I felt much better about throwing away any inhibitions and embracing the filth.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Injury detail, injury treatment, language, masturbation (male and female).

Summary: It’s mighty hard to distract yourself from your mysterious and alluring shipmate, so why bother?

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

What do we do now?

Three months later… and you still hadn’t received an answer.

After the mess on Mynock, the devastation at the loss of both Biran and Kuiil and the mystery that still surrounded the child, you had been drained, physically and emotionally.

So, after your question had received nothing but silence in answer and being too tired to demand one, you had holed yourself away in one of the only private areas of the Razor Crest, a storage area adjacent to the cockpit. Half of it was taken up by the slabs of carbonite the Mandalorian kept his quarries in, but there was space enough to sit and try to work through the slew of emotions you had been bombarded with in only twenty-four hours.

You had scoffed, resting your head back against the unforgiving metal of ships interior; twenty-four hours ago, you had been lamenting the loss of adventure, of some sort of elusive fulfilment. Once again, caught up in thinking the grass is greener on the other island… It was a flaw you were beginning to recognize in yourself and you weren’t happy about it.

An incessant longing for an unknown goal.

You wanted to make a difference when you were stuck on Pamarthe, so you joined the Rebellion and it had given you a purpose.

After the Empire fell, and your skills as a combat medic became obsolete, you chased that same desire for purpose back to the Outer Rim in the hopes that altruistic work in a voluntary clinic would somehow satisfy that longing.

Then the New Republic pulled back the curtain and shown that in essence, things had not really changed, that you had somehow wasted years achieving something that suddenly felt hollow. And it was unfair. Unfair because you knew it wasn’t hollow, you knew the galaxy was in a better place than it was before you joined the Rebellion and yet you felt your life was lacking once more.

Biran had soothed the jagged edges of a life that hadn’t been able to fit in any one particular place and – for a time – you had been content with working in his practice. Until the moment you weren’t. When the gaping maw of dissatisfaction crept back into the corner of your eyes, making you agitated and wishing for more once again.

You seemed to have gotten your wish the day the Mandalorian had entered your life and brought with him an unyielding ability to take life by the jaws and roar right back at it. He seemed to create his own purpose, the child a testament to that, and even if you had no way of knowing the innermost workings of his mind, you were fascinated by it, by him.

You spent so long seeking a purpose when you should have been creating one of your own instead.

It was a sobering realization as you sat alone beside the generator room on the cold metal of the Razor Crest’s storage room, nothing to show for that wasted time but a bloody arm and a dead friend.

The tears came then, for Biran, for yourself, for the child, even for Mando. You had buried your face in your arms and allowed yourself to grieve.

You had no idea what to do.

A little less than two days after your hasty escape from Dandoran, you entered the cockpit again sheepishly.

If you hadn’t heard the Mandalorian moving around the ship, climbing the ladder down to the hold or the hiss of the refreshers hydraulic door opening and closing, you would have thought he hadn’t moved an inch since you were last there.

You had had a severe talking to yourself over the last day and had laid to rest a portion of the self-loathing you had been wallowing in, realizing it wouldn’t do you any good to stay fixated on things you could no longer change. It had given you a measure of peace. Self-awareness was not always a flattering reflection, but with it, you were able to see what needed to be worked on.

The slightest incline of his helmet to the right was the only indication he gave you that he was aware of your presence, the child cooing happily from the seat beside him when he saw you.

You had taken the same seat as before, letting the child clamor up onto your lap to make room for you both. Silence still reigned and you were suddenly so aware of how much you relied on external white noise during your last meetings with him; the murmur of a bustling crowd, Biran’s jokes or simply your attention being focused on an injury. Without such distractions, the Mandalorian’s silence was deafening.

You knew he didn’t converse easily, that much was obvious from his abrupt statements and cantankerous nature whenever you saw him. But you had never felt the lack of cues – physical or verbal – until you sat in his ship with him alone. It felt like you were being asked to treat a patient when you could neither see where they were hurt or listen to their reaction; their breathing or any pain they might be in. You were adrift in this ship and for the first time since you saw him braced against that alley wall on Klatooine, you felt a jolt of nervousness race up your spine.

“How’s your arm?”

The question was spoken quietly but still felt too harsh on your ears. Maybe you were just feeling overly sensitive, you couldn’t tell at this point. All you knew was that the sound of his voice was jarring when only moments before you felt as though the silence was drowning you.

“It’s fine.” You muttered after a moment, “It wasn’t deep.”

“You know I would have---” he started before he cut himself off, the frustration evident in the huff he exhaled afterwards. No, Mando was definitely unaccustomed to speaking with you when the bickering and banter that provided you both with a safe wall to hide behind was stripped away.

But you knew what he was trying to say; I would have taken care of it.

Your chest filled with a soft warmth at the thought. But you didn’t mention it. Instinct told you that he would get defensive or spooked, like one of the regal crested stags native to Pamarthe. Massive and intimidating but would bolt at a loud noise or sudden movement. You felt that if you acknowledged the emotion, the tentative willingness he had tried to express to dress a wound for you, he would immediately throw up more walls, more barricades around himself.

You appreciated the sentiment none the less.

He seemed to appreciate the fact that you didn’t bring it up too, because a few silent minutes later, he spoke again.

“I don’t need to tell you that Mynock isn’t safe for you anymore.”

You looked up from where you had started playing with the child on your lap, simply passing his small metal ball to him before he handed it back to you. He seemed to take immense joy out of the game, delighted to show you his toy but equally excited to have it back in his hands in the next moment.

Mando kept his face forward as he spoke, so all you could see of him was the breadth of his shoulders where he had crossed his arms across his chest and the back of his helmet as it leaned back against the headrest of his chair.

“…But I’ll take you to whatever planet you want.”

“Oh.” Was your pitiful excuse for an answer. Pitiful, because you were slightly embarrassed that amidst your self-reflection, you hadn’t once considered your next move. You frowned. You always had a plan, but now? You had no idea where to go.

You mulled over your next words carefully.

“Can I think about it? I have to… figure out where would be best.” You continued when he offered nothing in response. It was true; you had no credits, no clothes, you didn’t even have a toothbrush you realized grimly. You had to be smart about where you went next if you were going to survive.

You ran through the list of friends and contacts you still had from the Rebellion, pilots and other medics who would no doubt help you in a pinch without question. You could go home, the clans on Pamarthe were loyal to a fault but your mind immediately shut that idea down as a wave of nausea washed over you, a combination of homesickness and fear making you feel slightly ill. No, you hadn’t been home since before the Rebellion, and you weren’t about to break that streak now.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, that you didn’t notice Mando’s quick glance at you over his shoulder. He had never seen you look less put together. Hair a disaster, clothes bloodstained from your arm and slightly sooty from the fires. Your face was clean, and so were your hands so you had obviously washed up at some point. You were a mess, honestly. But he was relieved to see the same fire that lit your eyes remained if a little subdued, the underlying steel of intelligence that glinted like beskar was still there. He knew you had seen worse than what happened on Mynock, knew you were tougher than to let it break you, but his own guilt over sending the child to you aggravated his worry that you might be… altered, changed, different because of what he did.

Obviously, his worry was misplaced.

He might wear beskar armor, but you were the one who had a spine of it.

“Let me know when you figure it out.”

He spoke slowly, as if perhaps, he shouldn’t say those words. Their ambiguity was dangerous, leaving a back door to interpretation, but your appreciative smile he caught in the reflection of the wraparound transparisteel of the Razor Crests’ observation viewport made him forget momentarily why ambiguity was such a bad thing in the first place.

That was months ago.

Somehow, neither of you mentioned your destination again. You never told him where you wanted to go, and he never asked if you had decided.

The fact was almost dangerously acknowledged when Mando landed the Razor Crest to refuel a week later, when he had made the offhanded remark that you needed clothes and whatever else you might need as you travelled because, as he put it, “a man shouldn’t’ be told he can’t access half of his ship just because you’re waiting for your clothes to dry” and handed you a pouch of credits as he pushed by you gently to get to the entrance of the ship.

He could have asked you then where you planned to go, it was the perfect segue into that conversation, but after a tense moment when he stood at the top of the open ramp on his way to find work to tie them over until he started taking Guild jobs again, he straightened his shoulders and simply nodded to the child,

“Take care of the kid while I’m gone.”

That change in topic seemed to put the idea of you leaving to bed and you never brought it up again.

Not when you returned with several sets of clothes, feminine products, medical supplies, and foodstuffs for the ship on Ryloth.

Not when he brought back a thin sleep mat on Lothal with only a grunt in response to the thanks you had offered him after he had noticed you rubbing out a kink in your shoulder the day before.

Not when ‘I won’t be long’ replaced the stiff order of ‘take care of the kid’ thrown over his shoulder whenever he left you both alone, taking the time now to stroke the child’s long ear as you held him in your arms, feeling his eyes on you as he spoke.

No… the two of you had fallen into a delicate, if slightly hesitant routine; one that didn’t involve you leaving the Mandalorian or his child.

Next time, it appeared, did not end in goodbye.

Adjusting to life on a ship again had been both easy and difficult.

Having spent a portion of your life sleeping in hard, cramped spaces with a number of other rebels, living on the Razor Crest was not as difficult as one might think. It wasn’t idea, Maker no. But there was running water (even if it was constantly recycled), something of a galley (kitchen was too generous a term, but there was a single nanowave ring and small cooling chamber) and somewhere soft to rest your head at night (even if your pillow was just a bunched-up blanket).

The areas you struggled with predominantly, could be summed up in two words: boredom and privacy.

You were used to spending twelve hours or more a day on your feet treating patients. Complacency and downtime were not in your repertoire, and while you can admit that you took advantage of the rest for the first week or two, you soon found yourself getting agitated and itching to do something.

The child proved to be an excellent distraction when he wasn’t holed away in the cockpit with the Mandalorian. While he was a darling little bogwing who fussed extraordinarily little, he needed constant vigilance. You learned very quickly that those doe-eyes hid a proclivity for mischief you had only glimpsed at back in Mynock. If you didn’t keep one eye on him at all times, you would lose sight of him only to find him in the cooling chamber looking for food or Maker forbid, in the weapons chamber.

Apart from keeping up with the child, you had taken to cataloguing the medical knowledge you had swimming in your mind on an empty datapad you had found in the storage area by the galley one day. You lamented the loss of the stacks of datapads you had collected over the years to further your knowledge and keep up to date with the latest medical advances, so you took it upon yourself to organize a one-stop-shop for all the information you had accumulated. It was antiquated given the knowledge was already in your head, but it filled the time, nonetheless.

Regarding privacy however, it wasn’t that you didn’t have any.

You had flatly refused to take Mando’s bunk when he had thrown the offer to you soon after Ryloth, and instead took it upon yourself to reorganize the holds setup. The small alcove by the galley that kept excess inventory of food, ammunition, blankets, and medical supplies was relocated to the storage area outside the generator room on the same level of the cockpit. The generators themselves had been too noisy to sleep beside so, despite being a larger area, you had settled the sleep mat down in the now empty alcove across from where the crates Mando used as a table and chairs was set. You didn’t need a whole lot of space while you slept, so it suited you fine. You had spent years sleeping on ships so a somewhat soft mat – however thin – was all you needed to get a good night sleep.

Rather, it was your feeling of invading the Mandalorian’s privacy that you struggled with. Your unwitting shipmate was a large, somewhat stifling presence in the beginning, and you felt an illogical imposition on his life before growing more accustomed to living with him after several weeks.

It was as you got used to him though, that your troubles began.

After six weeks of travelling on the Razor Crest, you had learned several things about the Mandalorian.

One, that despite the ship being as small as it was with three – read; two plus a pint-sized gremlin – people living in it, Mando could be elusive and you could easily go days without seeing him and even longer without hearing him speak. Whatever progress you had made previously during your encounters in getting him to talk only seemed to apply in small doses. You found yourself growing used to silence and adjusting to speaking softly without realizing it, your normal speaking voice sounding too loud even to your own ears.

Two, for all you did see of him, you had never once seen him without every stitch of armor on him. Beskar wasn��t light and you knew he had to remove it sometimes to shower and sleep and eat, but you never heard even a whisper of metal clattering as he took it off or put it back on. The only thing you ever heard that would suggest he ever took his armor off, was the sound of the water in the refresher as it ran down his body. Mando only showered when he was certain you and the kid were both asleep, a habit you had picked up on only when the sound of the spray pulled you from unconsciousness for the fifth night in a row. The simple sound of the water and the occasional splash as he rinsed his hair – if he had hair – or body clean of soap immediately pushed tiredness and any hope of sleep away, which led you to fact number three.

That your attraction to the Mandalorian was growing, rather than dissipating, the longer you were around him. Whatever attraction you had entertained on Mynock over the years was magnified when you were forced to live in such close proximity to the man each and every day. Perhaps it was because you didn’t have as much to focus your attentions on, but you suddenly felt hyperaware of his every movement whenever he was in your presence and each of those movements seemed more enticing than the last.

There was the time he was cleaning his blasters.

Mando had just entered hyperspace after finishing up a job on Sriluur and after a grumbled, “No, I did not see a Raquor’daan” after your tongue-in-cheek question upon his return, he returned to the hold after putting the ship on autopilot.

Unexpectedly, he pulled one of the durasteel crates out from beside the makeshift table instead of remaining in the cockpit, the sound of the crate dragging across the metal flooring making both you and the child startle while he took a heavy seat down and pulled out the blaster at his hip. Another two followed as he lay them out almost reverently on the table.

Given that his adopted father was staying down in the hold, the child very quickly lost interest in playing with you and his metal ball. He whined at you insistently until you placed him in the crab carapace that sat on the same table in front of the Mandalorian before taking your seat again to focus on the compilation of medication doses per age, race, and pre-existing condition on your datapad to keep yourself occupied.

“No.”

You were amused when Mando’s filtered voice stopped the kid from touching the blaster without the warrior even having to look up from where he was using a small pipe brush to clean out the barrel of the first blaster. The little bogwing only watched him as he slowly tried to take a small, but no doubt important part of the blaster that sat on the table closest to his small frame, waiting to be cleaned.

After a few moments of this back and forth between father and son, you recognized when the Mandalorian was beginning to lose patience. The clipped edge of his voice that usually took a lot longer to show itself whenever he spoke to the child. The deliberate turn of his helmet to look at him as he spoke. All tiny, insignificant things you were becoming aware of despite yourself.

“Okay buddy. Let’s play over here instead.” You reached across the table and picked him up before Mando reached his limit and sat back down with the child on your lap, a safe distance from the blasters and the child’s wandering claws. Mando didn’t say anything, his movements never faltering as he lifted the barrel up to the front of his T-visor, inspecting its interior for a few measured moments before he set it down and picked up the next piece, satisfied.

While the little bogwing was most certainly not impressed to have been removed from Mando’s side, you had discovered a secret weapon early on that you could pull out whenever the child became fussy. It was truly a lifesaver of a thing; one you thanked the Maker for every time it stopped a tantrum or soothed away a fear.

You simply pulled your hair over your shoulder and waited for the tell-tale widening of the child’s eyes before his clawed hand wrapped around a bunch of the strands. He was content to hold it, pull it occasionally and enjoy its’ texture and color. You flattered yourself that it was comforting to the child, but you knew nothing comforted him more than the cool steel of beskar under his cheek whenever Mando held him.

At the thought, your eyes shifted to the man in question, oil rag in hand as he gently ran it over each part of the disassembled blaster, slow in the drag down the exterior of the barrel and examining it regularly before continuing.

It was the first time your breath had caught looking at him.

The way he completed each task so meticulously made you feel like you were witnessing a ritual; there was something innately private and intimate about how the warrior took care of his weapons. Should you look away? Perhaps… but after a few monotonous weeks, your eyes drank in the sight, taking in far more than you would usually be aware of in such a mundane act. The dexterity of his gloved fingers as they ran over each part of the weapon, they way they expertly shifted to disassemble the other two blasters laid out on the table, as if with a simple touch, the steel fell apart to obey his wishes.

It was the first time you felt an image of him, a fantasy, brush against your mind.

A fleeting image of those same fingers running down your spine slowly, deliberate, and certain in their path. As experienced with handling a woman as he was when he handled a weapon. The brush of his knuckles down your sternum, along your cheek. The strength of his grip behind your neck or holding your hips down.

You startled, yelping as the child giggled when he yanked your hair after your momentary lapse in concentration.

The visor shifted slightly to look at you and you hoped the guilty look on your face didn’t tell him everything you had just imagined before he pointed at the child,

“Mind your manners, kid.” He rasped before turning back to his work.

The child cooed in delight, thinking all of this was a truly wonderful sport and pulled your hair again. You laughed at his antics, slightly embarrassed as your yelp had been drawn out in surprise as opposed to pain. You didn’t think the child was even capable of inflicting pain; even at his most excited, he never pulled your hair hard and it softened your heart to him further.

The Mandalorian only sighed in your peripheral, pushing himself to his feet and making his way around the table. Those fingers you had been thinking about not two minutes earlier gently untangled the child’s claws from your hair and picked him up into his arms to settle him down.

“You’re too young to be pulling girls hair yet, ad’ika.” You heard him chide in that low baritone as he moved further into the hold towards the child’s hover-pram. It took every ounce of self-control not to let your jaw hit the ground. You barely succeeded.

Unfortunately, you didn’t succeed in stopping your thighs from shifting, subconsciously rubbing them together to relieve the uncomfortably need that settled there, quickly escaping to your mat under the pretense of needing to untangle your hair from the child’s ministrations.

Then there were the numerous times you had to get by each other, to get down the ladder to the hold, or to leave the ship, or even just to get into the cockpit. Anywhere that involved you both being in the same space at the same time resulted in the Mandalorian brushing against you accidentally as you crossed paths. Like you said before, Mando was large, and the Razor Crest was not.

One fateful encounter had yet to leave your mind.

You had been frantically looking for the child for nearly half an hour after breaking your second cardinal rule:

Do not take your eyes off the child.

Well, you did. And you were – once again – contemplating the pros and cons of throwing yourself into a sarlacc pit over facing the wrath of the Mandalorian if you didn’t find the sneaky little bogwing he called a son.

You linked your hands behind your neck as you released a long breath to try and calm your rapidly increasing panic. He wasn’t in his hover-pram (though his metal ball was there so surely, he couldn’t have gone far?), he wasn’t in the crab carapace (it sat cold and empty apart from the few errant credits Mando had tossed into it the day before). He wasn’t in the refresher and he wasn’t in the cooling chamber. He wasn’t hiding under the blanket you used for a pillow and he wasn’t playing in the carbonite chamber. You had even taken a panel or two from the side of the ship to see if he had gotten into the electricals, but they too were missing a little green terror.

“He can’t have gone far…” you whispered to yourself, your eyes scanning every single area of the hold carefully, looking for any movement or flash of green that might tell you where your charge had escaped to.

Your eyes landed on the rarely open hydraulic pocket door beside the refresher at the front of the ship, to the bunk where you knew the Mandalorian slept whenever he got the chance to.

What were the odds that things would work out in your favor, that the child wouldn’t be in Mando’s private quarters? That you could quietly continue your search elsewhere on the ship because underneath it all, the child knew there was nothing interesting in there?

The odds? Fucking zero.

Closing your eyes as you dropped your head back on your shoulders, you dragged your hands over your face,

“Why me?” you groaned into your hands, feeling infinitely sorry for yourself before you dropped your hands and stared at the open hydraulic durasteel door in distrust, as if it were going to alert Mando of your trespassing for even pondering the idea.

It’s just a room. The lovely, logical part of your brain said, soothing your nerves before the treacherous, licentious part finished the sentence:

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian sleeps…

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian removes his armor…

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian---

You curtailed the rapid descent your thoughts were plummeting towards and took three confident steps towards the room to prove to yourself that you were unfazed. You faltered on step four, but as your foot landed on the metal flooring, you were practically in front of the room already. So, you glanced in with a slight arch of your neck, leaning to the right.

This was the only place on the Razor Crest you hadn’t seen fully. Mando never locked it, but you tried to respect what privacy he did have by avoiding it. You understood that everyone had their space; a single area that was theirs to completely unwind in, even momentarily. You understood the significance of a place like that and invading Mando’s made you feel guilty.

The room itself was clinical in its simplicity. Your eyes roved over the bunk to see if the child was there. You took another step in so you could lean down to see if he was down the side of the bunk, where several metal shelves sat empty apart from a single blaster and a piece of durasteel armor that looked suspiciously like Mando’s old vambrace. He must put his armor there whenever he takes it off. You couldn’t think of another reason for there to be so much wasted space in the room otherwise.

“Psst, kid. Are you in here?” You hissed, not wanting to tempt fate and draw the Mandalorian’s attention if he heard you.

As it happened, the odds that you had put at zero for yourself might as well have been negative infinity, because the response you received was a filtered throat being cleared that had you spinning in place to see Mando watching you with his head tilted and a thumb hoked in his utility belt as he leaned against the wall casually.

And there was the child – proud as the tooka who caught the titterling – sitting in one strong arm, watching you with curious eyes as you stood back up, heat rising to your face as you floundered.

“I---”

“Found him.”

Mando saved you from what was no doubt going to be a terribly awkward attempt at an explanation as to why you were snooping in his bunk, so you merely offered him a sheepish smile when he didn’t question you. You held out your hands when the green monster stretched his own short arms out to you.

Mando pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to hand the child over and his body ate up the space around you.

It was surreal and slightly unnerving, the way his body seemed to dwarf any space he walked into, particularly this small area in front of his bunk. The breadth of his shoulders blocked the light behind him, and you were ensnared by the faint memory of their strength from realigning his arm after the Houk Incident. You mind was suddenly barraged with sinful images of anchoring your nails into those shoulders, or the sight of your thighs thrown over them as he---

“Can’t take your eyes off him for even a minute.” You laughed to cover your runaway thoughts, honestly you needed to get laid the next planet you landed on, fingers stroking absentmindedly over a large ear while the unpainted helmet stayed trained on you before nodding slowly.

“He gets into more trouble than you do.” He rumbled, the faint lilt of a tease making you instantly narrow your eyes, secretly thankful for the more familiar territory.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who ended up wanted by not only the New Republic, but the Empire and Bounty Hunters Guild as well.”

He scoffed as he rolled his shoulders back and crossed his arms, a clear rebuttal he decided didn’t warrant a verbal response, but it made you smile slyly in response, eager to keep the upper hand as you moved to get by him.

“You’re quite impressive, you know?” You purred as you passed him, the warrior not conceding an inch of space to let you get by him more easily, his body remaining an impassive mountain in front of you.

“Yeah?” His voice – husky even when filtered – dripped with a curiosity he tried to mask with arrogance as he tipped his head back to look down at you from his greater height while your front brushed against his lightly. You could practically hear the smirk behind his helmet in that one word.

You smiled sweetly at him and – for the first time – touched him for reasons other than medical as your patted the beskar on his chest twice,

“Mhm…” you hummed slowly, squeezing past him finally even as he turned slightly to keep his eyes on you, eyes that were scorching your body despite your inability to see them,

“You single-handedly united the galaxy in getting all three of them to agree that you’re a menace.”

Your saccharine smile grew at the indignant noise that left the warrior in response, the sound so boorish and organic coming from a man who could at times seem as emotionless as the droids he despised. It was a human sound, and your heart thrilled at it, the sensation settling between your legs as you wondered what other human sounds the Mandalorian could produce as you escaped back up the ladder to the cockpit before he could respond. It stroked a primal part of your ego to have been the one to draw out a sound, even one of derision, from him.

You thought about that sound for longer than you cared to admit, one of the few others you had added to the growing catalogue of memories you had accumulated over your short time on the Razor Crest. Each memory was capable of tormenting you to the point of arousal while you stubbornly refused to give in to your body’s need for release over thoughts of him.

You might have broken your second cardinal rule of ‘do not take your eyes off the child’ but you were steadfast in sticking to your first cardinal rule:

Do not cross that line with the Mandalorian.

You might have been able to abide by that rule if all you had to worry about was the limited content you had to fantasize about. The way he moved, his voice, those glimpses of the human underneath the metal when he spoke in that growling language whenever he was frustrated, or the occasional groan from a stiff neck after too long in the pilot’s chair. The faint memory of the tanned skin you had seen when treating that poisoned stab wound over three years ago. You could deal with all of those. They were ambiguous and vague.

Vague enough that when you did succumb to your own please and give yourself the release you craved night after night while biting your lip to contain even the smallest sounds escaping, you could fool yourself into thinking that it was any nameless, faceless man and not the Mandalorian you travelled with.

That changed the day you were exposed to the sheer strength and power of the Mandalorian first-hand as he wrestled a quarry into the ship after a hunt. The base, primordial desire for physical strength used for the purpose of provision and protection was stoked inside of you.

Mando had shown up with a live quarry, a Trandoshan who – once on the ship – had made one last desperate effort to escape, using the Mandalorian’s distraction as you came out of the refresher to break the binders with the brutal strength Trandoshan’s were known for and lunge right at you. Whether it was to kill you or to use you as leverage for Mando to release him, you never found out.

You had managed one startled step back before the Trandoshan was tackled to the ground in front of you. Mando’s size belied his speed and he quickly had a knee pressed into the quarry’s back, a hand pressing down on the Trandoshan’s neck to keep him in place while he used his free hand to try and restrain him once again.

The image of Mando’s body, humming from the thrill of a fight and the testosterone that rolled off of him because of it, seared itself into your mind. How the quarry could hardly move under the strength of his knee pressed down on his back. How – even under all that armor – you could practically see his muscles ripple and strain taut as he kept the quarry subdued enough to attach a new set of binders.

It was primal.

And it was your undoing.

As you let your fingers roam down beneath your sleep shorts that night to find yourself already soaked, you didn’t even try to stop the memory of Mando man-handling the quarry from filling your thoughts. You didn’t stop the memory from morphing into something else as you imagined yourself underneath him instead. Imagined the Mandalorian using that strength on you for an entirely different reason as you easily sunk two fingers inside your twitching cunt, desperate to be filled by something more than what you could give yourself.

You imagined his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down, to keep you submissive and could almost hear his voice growling in your ear while you desperately tried to replace the sensation of your own fingers inside you with his. Your other hand traced down your overheated body to circle your clit lightly. Your hips bucked, your body already strung too tight as a whimper slipped past your lips as you imagined he would no doubt leave you wanting more, removing his fingers to replace them with the blunt head of his cock. Just the thought of him pushing into you was enough to send you over the edge, biting down on your lip hard enough that you tasted a tang of copper from where your teeth broke the skin while your orgasm washed over you. You were left panting in the pitch-black hold of the Razor Crest wondering how long you could handle your attraction to the Mandalorian before it drove you crazy.

But it wasn’t until a month later, three months since Mynock, when Mando’s penchant for colorful injuries proved to be the straw that broke the bantha’s back.

You had landed on Scipio a week ago.

The frigid atmosphere of the planet was only made worse by the fact that the majority of structures in its capital city sat at a high altitude to escape the snowstorms that could leave entire ships buried in a matter of hours.

It was the first Guild job the Mandalorian had taken in a long time, but it offered a good bounty. From the short answers you had managed to pry from the stoic warrior as you entered Scipio’s atmosphere, he was a money launderer. A disgraced member of the Banking Clan back in the day before he found spice and flesh trafficking to be a more lucrative venture.

The guy was a genius when it came to cleaning dirty credits, funneling them into dummy accounts and businesses, directly influencing the rise in power of several top tier warlords of the fallen Empire. You had thought to question why it was so easy for former Imperials and their supporters to gain power but then you answered your own question. Credits. Credits could buy you anything; buy your survival, buy loyalty, and even buy freedom.

The Mandalorian didn’t seem too concerned about the quarry himself, rather the security detail he might have around him. This type of guy would rather pay someone to die for them instead of picking up a blaster themselves.

The spaceport where you landed doubled as a motel, equipped to stand the sub-zero temperatures and for people like yourself and the child, who would usually remain on the ship, provided somewhere safe to sleep for the duration of your stay. Mando had been frustrating as he explained again about keeping an eye open while in the motel, to double check the locks and not to let the child out of your sight.

It had ended with you snapping at him that you weren’t stupid, weeks of frustration catching up on you.

You had effectively shut him up though, and after a few tense moments he reached out to stroke the tip of the child’s ear gently,

“I won’t be long.” His voice was measured in its control to bite his tongue on a sharp retort, so you only nodded once in confirmation.

You regretted your short temper the moment you had snapped at him. You knew he kept his worry over the child to himself but sometimes he tended to hover, particularly when you weren’t on the Razor Crest. But having once again woken that morning to slippery thighs and the lingering image of a blurred silhouette scraping his teeth down your neck, you were feeling a bit high-strung.

So you had lashed out in your irritation, and a week after he left, you still felt bad about it.

The motel itself surrounded the spaceport. For the first day you had distracted the child and yourself by sitting at the window and pointing out the different ships that landed and took off, the high vantage point of the rooms allowing you to see a good portion of the entire port.

You told the child what each ship was (those that you knew, anyway) and told him which was fastest and what each one was used for and even the ones you knew how to fly (even if that list was miserably short for someone from Pamarthe). You still had your suspicions that the child could understand everything you said to him and so spoke to him as if he did. It did no harm and he seemed to enjoy the attention, babbling on your lap, and pressing his forehead to the window.

The ships had been a distraction for all of a day. Neither of you had warm enough clothing to tackle exploring the outdoors so your exploration was limited to the corridors of the motel and the extended sheltered area of the spaceport. The freezing chill still managed to permeate the vast port and you soon found yourselves back in the room for the next few days.

When the commlink Mando had given you crackled on your wrist, you nearly wept with happiness that you might soon be getting off this planet. You would take a week in hyperspace over the prison you felt you had been in within the four walls of the motel room. There were only so many conditions, symptoms, and treatments you could document on your datapad before you started losing the will to live.

“We take off in twenty.”

The commlink warped the unmistakable voice of the Mandalorian, probably due to the raging storm outside affecting the connection but you didn’t care. You guys were leaving, and you wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of Scipio.

Packing up the few items you had brought with you for the child, you placed him back in his hover-pram and closed it around him to protect him from the cold. Pressing another button on the commlink, it began following you as you started making your way down to where the Razor Crest was docked. The few moments you had to spend in the freezing blizzard to get onto the ship felt like a life age, the snow and wind biting into your skin beneath your clothing and almost burning with how cold it felt.

You turned towards the open ramp of the Razor Crest, desperately wanting to close it but you knew the Mandalorian had been out in that weather far longer than you had, and the quicker he got in, the better.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long as a few minutes later, the hazy blur in the blizzard sharpened to reveal the beskar clad warrior with a limp figure over his shoulder. Your eyes raked over him, narrowing at the slightly tremble in his left leg as he threw down the prone body none too gently on the floor of the hold. He reached to his right to press one of the manual controls to lift the ramp and finally shield you all from the snow before he reached down to grab the human man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the carbonite chamber.

He hadn’t said a word to you but then again, that wasn’t out of the ordinary. He preferred silence and you were used to it.

Instead, you took a few liberties and climbed up to the cockpit to initiate take off procedures. The Crest was old, bless her, but after a moment or two you managed to get her up in the air and out of atmosphere. Once you were able, you activated the autopilot. You were still at cruising altitude and would only be able to enter hyperspace once you were a suitable distance away from the planet.

Mando hadn’t come up when you had taken off and you noticed his absence. It wasn’t like him to remain down below so, with a moment’s hesitation, you returned back down the ladder to find him sitting on one of the large crates with his head back against the wall.

Your eyes immediately focused, mind sharpening as you assessed him from a few feet away. Breathing was normal if a bit heavy, nothing bent at a wrong angle or limbs missing.

You let your eyes drop to the leg you saw tremble slightly. The flight suit Mando wore under his armor, especially the bottoms, were soaked through so you couldn’t tell if the darkened stains on his thigh were melted snow or blood.

“No.”

Your eyes snapped up to his helmet which had turned slightly once you caught his attention.

“No?” You questioned, a frown settling over your eyes as he sat up with a grunt.

“I don’t need you patching up ever scratch and bruise.” He snapped.

Oh, he was cranky. That meant he was in pain.

It was true that Mando had flatly refused any help if he ever came back bruised and sore and for the most part, he probably didn’t need any medical attention. Half the time you didn’t even know because he simply dealt with it himself wordlessly. He had lived this life long enough without you, he knew how to handle himself. Most of the time. Your trained eyes were able to spot a mile away what he could deal with himself and what needed more practiced hands. If he was acting like a cantankerous reek again, then you knew it was time to step in.

You scoffed and took the few steps towards him, completely professional as you dropped to your knees in front of him. You didn’t miss the strangled noise the modulator picked up from behind the helmet, but you didn’t have time to worry about how you might look kneeling in front of his open legs.

All you were focused on, was the shredded duraweave near his knee, dried blood crusting along the flesh of his inner thigh just shy of the beskar plate sitting over his left thigh. You clicked your tongue and sent him a withering look,

“Seriously?”

A growl reverberated from his chest, a string of that foreign language leaving him before he looked away. He looked petulant.

“In Basic if you don’t mind.” You asked sarcastically, eyes already back on the wound underneath the torn duraweave. Your fingers picked a shredded edge of the duraweave to get a better look. You were reminded instantly of the wound he received from the poison laced dagger with you first met him, but you were relieved to note that this wound seemed clean of venom.

That was about all that was clean about it though, because unlike the single laceration of the dagger wound, his thigh had a semi-circle of shredded puncture wounds where something had obviously sunk into his flesh and shook its head.

“Fucking nerfherders, what bit you?” You turned your eyes back up to him, startled by the size given that the single row indicated only one side of the jaw met his flesh. You worried momentarily if the back of his thigh carried similar wounds where whatever it was bit down but you would deal with this first.

“Whitefang.” He bit out, the frustration in his tone evident but you had grown accustomed to him acting like this whenever he was hurt.

You had gotten to your feet again, turning away to your small area where you could rifle through the medipack you had built for such occasions. You almost dropped the bacta and saline when you turned back to him.

“A whitefang? How in Malachor did you---”

“He didn’t only have mercenaries guarding him.” Mando spat, groaning when the anger in his voice caused his muscles to tense and the obvious pain that followed. You shook your head and knelt back down, sitting on your heels as you peeled back the shredded edges of the duraweave, stopping only when a gloved hand wrapped around your wrist in warning. Your eyes flickered up to the expressionless T-visor, a sigh leaving you as you looked back down.

“I’m only pushing it back as far as the wound goes. I won’t see any more of you than it takes to treat your bite.”

You tried a different approach to your usual Mando Method. Negotiation as opposed to strong-arming him. You didn’t try to remove your wrist from his grip, despite how tight it was but your patience seemed to work because with a steady exhale, his grip loosened and released you. You nodded once,

“There, that wasn’t so hard?”

Mando simply leaned his head back heavily and looked up towards the ceiling, his hands resting back on the crate behind him and leaving you to your work.

You turned back to his thigh now that the hard part was over, truly he was a menace when it came to looking after himself. You tutted to yourself while you cleaned the caked, dried blood from around the puncture wounds with clean gauze soaked in an antiseptic solution and assessed their depth as you did so. There were seven punctures in all, the two canine fangs being the largest and deepest, so you focused your attention on them first.

While the Mandalorian hadn’t said a word despite the sting the antiseptic no doubt caused, he let out a soft exhale when you cleaned them out with saline water to flush out any dirt that might have entered the open wounds. You bit down on your lip to hide the slight smile, he seemed to enjoy that part last time too. Now that you were sure he wasn’t in any immediate danger; you allowed your eyes to travel down the length of his body on their way back to his thigh.

You covered the hitch in your breath with a small cough when your eyes passed over the prominent bulge that was nearly at eye level; he was hard. Your mouth instantly went dry as you turned back to his thigh with a bit too much force, a heavy tension settling in the air that was making it hard to focus.

So, you tried to lighten the mood when he sighed again softly at the cool liquid on his heated skin.

“Careful Mando, or else I’ll start to think you enjoy getting injured.”

You had quickly moved on to threading the dissolvable medical thread through a wicked sharp curved needle and began to layer tight, neat stitches inside the two deepest wounds, anything to distract your hands and eyes from straying somewhere they were wholly unwelcome.

The needle moved easily through his flesh, the thread laced with bacta, one of the greatest creations to come from the last five years of medical research which allowed the healing qualities in bacta to penetrate the body better, using the physical thread to hold the flesh together while it knitted everything back together quicker than the body would be able to by itself.

The Mandalorian hadn’t moved since you began, but you felt the telling warmth on the top of your head where his eyes had settled, watching you sit between his legs and once again, soothing his pain. You hadn’t expected an answer given his mood, so when he did reply, you nearly dropped the needle you were carefully putting away for cleaning later.

“In my line of work, you learn to like a little pain.” His voice sounded thicker, a dark undercurrent to the usual rasp and it made your cunt clench at the veiled insinuation. He must have known you could see, right? He hadn’t made any move to hide his obvious arousal, but then maybe he felt that to draw attention to it would be to acknowledge it.

You smoothed a large bactapad over the wounds, the smaller punctures not deep enough to warrant stiches and satisfied there were no other wounds on his thigh. You used the action to buy yourself some time as you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, desperately trying to get some moisture back as your mind ran wild with the possibilities that single sentence meant about the Mandalorian.

When you had done all you could do, you bit the bullet and looked up at him again. His head was tilted down, not hiding the fact that he was watching you as you worked, and you just knew your underwear was ruined from the image that lay before you. The Mandalorian leaning back with his legs spread and watching you like the hunter he was.

“I’m sure there are other ways you can enjoy that without getting you leg bitten off.” The words that left your mouth were smoother and said with a confidence that made you want to pat yourself on the back. You packed up the medipack and stood up, keeping your eyes on his visor so they wouldn’t be tempted to stray down to the bulge that had yet to disappear.

“No strenuous exercise until they’re healed.” You ordered, your tone allowing for no argument as you turned to put the medipack away, thankful that he couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks when you started moving towards the galley to prepare something to eat for the child and be away from this suddenly stifling situation.

Mando seemed content to remain where he was for a few moments longer before he stood to test his leg on his full weight. You staunchly kept your back to him under the guise of heating a ration pack on the nanowave stove, but you could feel him brush past you on his way to the cockpit.

“Pity.” He dropped the word on your lap without stalling his movements as he passed you, his voice still thick and laced with a sinful darkness before his presence vanished entirely up the ladder, albeit a bit slower and into the cockpit so he could get you all into hyperspace.

When you heard the tell-tale hiss of the cockpit door closing, you braced your hands on the edge of the galley counter, a shaky breath leaving you.

What the ever-loving fuck what that?

A few hours later, and you were in the refresher, the hiss of the shower the only security that your moans were smothered as your fingers played with your clit, expertly circling it before swiping over the sensitive bundles lightly. Your head fell back, the water soaking your heated skin and running down your body the same way you imagined his hands might, how his tongue might follow that same path.

Your eyes closed on a whimper as you slid a finger insider of yourself, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how easily it slid in, your arousal providing the perfect lubrication.

You still hadn’t been able to unwind from the tightly strung ball of tension the Mandalorian had left you in hours before and despite your better judgement, had locked yourself in the refresher seeking even an ounce of relief. You should have been ashamed, getting off to the memory of a man who – while being someone you already accepted your attraction to – was a patient in that moment.

It didn’t matter that he seemed just as aroused, that he stoked a desire deep inside you with his words. You didn’t even know his name and yet, the physical attraction you felt for a man whose body you had seen only slivers of, was unlike anything you’d felt for anyone you had been with before. He had you soaked with a few choice words, a tilt of his helmet and his legs spread arrogantly as if he hadn’t just been bitten by a whitefang.

You moaned quietly as you imagined yourself kneeling between those thighs again, but this time not to treat an injury but to satisfy a different sort of ache. You thought about the noises he might make if you took his cock into your mouth; if he would try to control your pace and how much of him you took. You added another finger as you wondered if he would finish in your mouth, or if he was someone who wanted to finish deep inside your cunt instead. If he would pull you up from your position between his legs so he could sink into you and fuck you until he finished.

You could feel your orgasm cresting, your fingers drenched with your arousal and a final forbidden fantasy of what he must look like when he came – what expression would paint the face you would never know as he spilled inside you – was what had your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You couldn’t muffle your cry at its intensity, nor could you control the moan spilling from your lips despite swearing you would never say it, never acknowledge outside your own mind that you wanted him.

But you couldn’t help yourself, and it changed everything.

“Mando…”

He was right the first time.

He should have fucking listened to his instincts when they told him you were dangerous on Klatooine.

He should have known when that lick of desire danced across his body the night he first met you.

He should have known when the blush he caused to rise on your cheeks made his chest swell with masculine pride.

He should have known when he hesitated every time he went to ask you what planet you wanted him to bring you to.

And he should have damn well known when he had to stop himself from fucking you the moment you knelt between his legs to treat his bite.

But he hadn’t listened and now he was stood frozen on his way to his bunk, the sound of his name laced with desire as it rolled off your tongue on the other side of the refresher’s door rooting him to the spot.

He felt himself get painfully hard under his armour again.

He had felt edged all day after trying – and failing – to calm himself down in the cockpit after you had finished with him. He recited his Creed in his head over and over until the memory of you looking up at him with those expressive, intelligent eyes had him hard again almost instantly.

Din felt his lips curl into a snarl at the sound of you moaning his name, at the torture you had unwittingly inflicted on him now that he knew what you sounded like in the throes of pleasure. It would be so easy, so easy to just pull the door open and give you a real reason to moan his name.

He clenched his hand to his side where it itched to open the door, it would be so easy…

He shook his head, trying to shake the insidious thoughts of giving in to the attraction that had skyrocketed since you began travelling with him.

A shift of his weight sent a twinge of pain through his thigh and that grounded him.

No, not tonight.

He continued on his path to his bunk before he had been interrupted, locking the hydraulic door behind him before he removed his helmet and ran a hand down his face.

Not tonight.

He removed each part of his armor, setting it down on the shelves beside the bunk, fingers ghosting over the bactapad that still clung to his thigh, the whispered memory of feeling your fingers on his bare skin again causing his cock to twitch beneath his flight suit before he removed that as well.

Not tonight.

He lay back heavily on his bunk, muscles and joints exhausted from the arduous week on an ice planet. He let his eyes roll closed when his hand wrapped around the hard shaft of his cock where it lay heavy against his stomach, lips parting on an exhale. The memory of his name on your lips filled his head as he swiped his thumb across the head of his cock to spread the pre-cum already leaking from the tip and hissed at the sensitivity.

Not tonight, he thought as his grip tightened as he stroked himself towards a quick release, but one day soon he would make you pay for the torment you inflicted on him today.

He came with a low groan, your voice in his head chiding him once more about no strenuous exercise and he smirked in the darkness at the memory, fatigue making his eyelids heavy.

Soon.

Some liberties I have taken with Star Wars Canon:

- Pantran whitefangs (a species of big cat) are native only to Hoth, and are notorious for being impossible to domesticate and are constantly hunting. Anyone who tries, usually ends up dead. For the purposes of Stitches, it didn't seem likely that a money launderer would hide on Hoth. It's a desolate planet with a population that "would just about fill a cruiser". Scipio was at one point, the centre of the Banking Clan during the Galactic Republic and was such an important location that both the Republic and Separatists each sent ambassadors to ensure there was no corruption there. It has a larger population and more cities, somewhere I can justify a money lauderer hiding out in. This is why I transplanted Whitefangs to a different planet though I have made sure that it was an equally frozen one!

- Bacta usually removes the need for literal stitches as we know in real life, but I theorized that, while bacta is a perfect healer given time; in triage and emergency care, going back to basics sometimes helps. That's why I tried to combine the idea of bacta thread, something that would physically hold a wound together and prevent blood loss while the bacta worked in the interim.

- The generic "bending the Creed but not breaking it" spiel about reader seeing Din's body so long as it's not his face.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79

Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anyone! But drop me a message if I did!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin fic #din djarin #mando #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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myonepiece · 4 years

Note

Could you please do hc's for Perospero, Cracker, n Katakuri's where Luffy takes their wife because he thought she was there against her will n shit but like. Wife happy with them, no forcing necisary. Wife does get back home safe but u know, they need a heart attack once in a while

Perospero, Cracker, Katakuri reaction to Luffy taking his wife

Perospero x Reader, Cracker x Reader, Katakuri x Reader

Description: Luffy takes the character’s wife because he thought she was being held against her will

Warnings: None

A/N: we’re assuming they actually love you and it’s not just a loveless arranged marriage

The word I would use is “flabbergasted”. Perospero is very smart, but as smart as he is he never expected you to be taken, especially by Luffy

He had sent multiple guards to watch you, and clearly they failed. So Perospero kills them because they let Luffy take you, he’s pissed off

He does try to devise a plan, he talk it over with his sibling and Big Mom, but contrary to his usual calmness, he speaks and acts with urgency this time

He constantly irritated and snaps at people, or just extremely passive aggressive

He’s actually not looking for a way to kill the straw hats or get revenge, he’s only focused on finding them to get you back safely

He has trouble sleeping, barely gets 10 minutes- he was so used to holding you while he slept

It’s very hard to focus on anything else, but he’s not really letting anyone focus on anything else until he figures out how to get you. Now you’re lucky it’s Perospero you’re with because being the first born son gets him special treatment from Mama. If it were one of the younger children, they wouldn’t have gotten much help in getting their wife back. But Big Mom and Perospero’s siblings

When you do come back, either because Perospero took a ship and crew to get you himself/with a sibling or two, or because the Strawhats realized that you weren’t being forced to stay with the Big Mom pirates- Brook, Robin, and Chopper were probably the ones to realize you truly love Perospero

He would hug you immediately then check for any injuries and ask if you’re okay. He basically locks the two of you in his room for affectionate time, ranging from sex to cuddling and kisses

Needless to say he’s a lot more protective, especially during battles- he’ll have you hide or make sure you practically have a whole army protecting you (or one/a few of his younger siblings)

Furious, why the hell weren’t you being protected?! Everyone can feel the anger radiating off him, the atmosphere is extremely tense. His siblings all know to stay away from him because he’s snapping at everyone, or giving them a glare that could quite literally kill them

He spends a bit thinking, then goes to do something himself. He tries to think rationally and keep his calm exterior, but his actions are a bit rash, especially for him

He can’t really compose/organize his thoughts and he becomes a bit clumsy. Overall it just throws him off because he didn’t expect this to happen

Once again, it’s fortunate it’s Katakuri, being the second son means he’ll get help from his family- although he probably won’t take it. He’ll want to get you back by himself and he’ll be more than ready to take a ship alone and get you back

He’ll be off to get you the second day that you don’t return. You have to hold him back and assure him the Strawhats didn’t hurt you unless you want a replay of his fight with Luffy. Just tell him you’re okay and to leave them alone and you want to go home, and Katakuri will have you in the boat and heading back without a second thought

He holds you the entire trip back, and carries you to the doctor once you’re back- no matter how many times you assured him you’re okay. He’ll be similar to Perospero once you’re back, hiding in his room with you. Cuddling and kisses mostly, he has you join him for his merienda that day. That night he stays up later just watching you and appreciating the moment and feeling of having you back in his arms (even if you were only away for 2 days)

Also very protective, he’s usually protective but now he refuses to let you be near a battle unless you have one of his siblings keeping an eye on you, he won’t trust you with any guards because they failed the first time

He’s the one who reacts the worst- angry, sad, scared, insulted, offended, embarrassed. He’s embarrassed that he let you be captured, insulted/offended because he thinks the Strahats think he’s so weak they thought they could take you. He’s sad because he can’t find you now, and scared because he’s worried you’ll get hurt or worse, or that he won’t be able to get you back. Deep down Cracker is a very emotional person and no one can change my mind

He yells a lot and demands help from his siblings and Big Mom, but unfortunately he’s the 10th son so he won’t be as big of a priority as it was with Perospero, but he is a favorite child so that counts for something. Pudding is most likely to be the one who worries the most, seeing as she wants love too- she’s actually the one who wants to help her brothers the most in this scenario

He would’ve gone to get you, but you returned before because you had finally gotten the Strawhats to understand that you were choosing to stay with the Big Mom pirates. He went out and was more than ready to fight Luffy again, but he just had to see you then he was running to make sure you’re okay- you’re his first priority even before revenge

He picks you up and twirls you around while hugging you, he frantically checks you for any injuries- then you have to hold his hand and push him inside before he fights someone

He does get some harsh trash talk in though

Yes he shows you he missed you with sex, but aftercare is lots of cuddles where he promises to never let someone take you again and to do better, to be better for you

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #charlotte family #charlotte perospero #one piece perospero #perospero imagine #charlotte perospero headcanons #katakuri #katakuri headcanons #one piece katakuri #katakuri imagine #katakuri x reader #charlotte cracker #one piece cracker #cracker headcanons #charlotte cracker imagine

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bimswritings · 3 years

Text

Savage Opress x Reader

Request: Open

Warnings:Yandere Themes, canon-typical violence

Summary: On their conquest of the universe, Savage finds himself drawn to one of the newest captives in their spread of power.

A/n: The next chapter of ‘This is our way’ is up on my Ao3. It will be posted here after I finish and upload my current Armorer x reader fic.

__________________________________________________

Your planet wasn’t anything special. Located out in the outer rim, it was little more than a moon compared to its neighbors. Its land was barren and cold, an almost ever present frost covering the ground.

Yet you and your people had made it your home, learning how to grow a small amount of crops and mine the rare metals underneath. A job you had yourself, providing enough money for you and your younger brother to live on until he was old enough to work as well. What was produced was enough to give your people an economy, yet remain under the radar and out of the war that ravaged the rest of the planet. The Republic and Separatist had limited interactions this far out at best, and you were able to enjoy a peaceful life, if not a bit exhausting.

Unfortunately, it was this isolation that had been your saving grace for so long that also proved your downfall.

Their ships arrived in numbers you had never seen before, landing on the grey dirt and unloading copious amounts of armored men and women. Your village didn’t even have time to put up a fight, overpower and subdued before you could even think of a weapon to protect yourself.

Soon you were corralled into the town center, separated into groups seemingly at random. Families were torn apart, mother from child and husband from wife. The entire time your brother clung to your leg, hiding as the armed guards shoved you along through the crowds. You tried to stay out of sight the best you could in an attempt to draw the least amount of attention to yourself, hoping, praying, that you could go unnoticed enough to keep him with you.

Above it all, standing out against the dull sky with their vibrant colors, were two Zabraks. Creatures you had only ever heard about in stories from the occasional trader that passed through, and had been just that, stories, until now. Their horns alone were enough to send shivers down your spine, each one protruding from the crown of theirs heads like a twisted version of a crown. Unlike a crown, you knew they weren’t for decoration. The damage they could undoubtedly do if provoked only solidified their threatening presence.

Now they stood above you all, tattoos illuminated in the light of the setting sun. The shorter red one stood in front, chin raised and chest puffed with pride as he looked over your people with another armored man, this one clearly human. He seemed to not even notice the cold, bare chest on full display for anyone to see the unique markings that marred his skin. Just beyond him stood the second Zabrak. His yellow markings stood out even more than his companions, only emphasized by his large size. None of the others even came close to his height, let alone the bulk you could tell he possessed under his armor. Even from here you could tell he could wrap a single hand around your neck and snap it easily with his strong fingers.

His gaze was just as impassionate, if not more so, seeming more bored than anything as he watched the proceedings.

“Come on! Move it!” One of the guards yelled, catching your shoulder as he pushed you forward, reminding you bitterly of Telik being led to slaughter. You kept Jay close, keeping your head down as you passed more guards, pace increasing. Just a few more yards and you would be with the others. Whatever the future had in store for you, at least you would still have each other.

“Hey, you!” A voice called, clearly directed your way, though you pretended not to hear. A cold sweat broke out across your skin as footsteps closed in, hand reaching out and stopping you in your tracks.

“Children don’t go in this area.” He growled, prying Jay from where he hid, ignoring his cries and your screams as he was pulled away. A guard stepped forward to hold you back, another coming to his aide as you fought to get to your brother, who was making it just as difficult for his own captor to drag him away. Even with the muscle gained from the mines you struggled against them, putting up your own desperate fight.

“Stop moving you little- fuck!” He yelped, pulling his arm away and out of Jay’s mouth, which had latched on to the only unarmored part of the hand holding him.

Immediately he turned and was running back towards you, tears streaming down his face and blue eyes wide with fear. In his panic to get back, his childish coordination caught up to him and his feet caught on one another, throwing him to the ground as he was left to scramble. All the while the guard he had bitten approached.

“You little brat!” He snarled. His hand moved to his hip, producing a whip from its depths. The long weapon crackled to life, sparking with energy as it extended to full length.

Your own stomach dropped in fear as you watched.

Jay, the one light in your life, the only person you had left, was in danger. You were his older sister. You were supposed to protect him, guide him into adulthood in place of your parents. Be there to kiss away every injury, wipe away the tears after every nightmare.

A new burst of energy flooded your system, giving you the strength needed to push past the guards, leaving them stumbling as you flew towards Jay.

The man brought his arm down, whip swinging in a wide arc aimed at the defenseless boy on the ground.

It didn’t even have the chance to hit him. You slid the last few feet on the rough terrain, body covering his at the last second and jolting as the electric weapon met your clothed back, ripping through the material like a stone through water. A pained scream tore itself from your lips. Not even when you had gotten a burn from a small explosion in the mines had it hurt this much. In fact, you would take a dozen burns before this. This was just pure agony, the pain not even limited to a single area as the electricity coursed through every part of your body, invading every nerve.

The man was far from done though, and he repeated the action again and again, turning your skin into a bloody mess as Jay continued to cry underneath you, struggling in your protective grip. Still you held tightly, biting your lip to muffle your cries with every lash.

No one lifts a finger to help, not even looking in your direction in fear of the same treatment as they continue to shuffle along. You don’t even have it in your heart to blame them, knowing your reaction would be much the same if the situation was reversed.

Unbeknownst to you, your little altercation has caught the eye of the golden Zabrak, a small twinge in his heart at the deja-vu feeling he gets from the scene. From your age, he can only assume that the boy is your brother. You look too young for him to be your son.

He has flashbacks to his own brother, giving himself to the cursed Nightsisters in exchange for his life, only to be forced to kill him in a cruel show of power.

Before he realizes it, his hand has fallen to his lightsaber, already taking a step to where you are. He only gets a step before Maul calls to him, pulling him away to the ships and leaving him to look back over his shoulder at you crumpled form.

“Come. We must set up camp. The prisoners will be dealt with later.” Maul chuckles. “Those that survive anyways.”

And so he follows, leaving your fate to the Mandalorian who has yet to relent in his cruelty. But out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind, and the memory of your form curled on the ground, taking every lash with little more than a jolt and muffled cry, sticks in the front of his mind and prevents him from having a single moment of rest.

It's hours before he’s able to slip away. Between his brother and Death Watch, it’s nearly impossible for him to make his way to where the captives are being held. They’re all gathered in one of the far corners of the camp, held in place by the ropes around the wrist and looking miserable as they huddle for warmth against the lightly falling snow. He feels no guilt for what their eventual fate will be. They’re nothing to him, mere insects in his brothers plans. Animals to the slaughter. All for the greater good.

The fear he can feel radiating off them feeds a twisted sense of pride within him. The Sith side of him. They know who he is. They know he could easily kill them with no consequence should he choose.

He’s not here for them though.

A dozen yards away, your body is still laying in the same spot as before, more lifeless than when he last saw you. This time there’s no Mandalorian enforcer above you. Instead, he’s replaced with the small boy from earlier. What remains of your shirt is peeled back from the skin and even Savage, who’s used to many grisly sights, grimaces at your wound. The skin that isn’t lacerated is red and swollen, and he now notices that the young boy has shed his own shirt, using ripped strips to clean the blood away and form a crude version of bandages. He’s busy fumbling over himself, fingers clumsy and stiff from the cold as he does his best to care for the wound with no medical supplies.

So focused on your wounds, he doesn’t even hear the large Zabrak approaching, not until it’s far too late. To his credit, and Savage’s amusement, the boy refuses to leave you, placing his body in front of yours. His bare chest is rapidly moving up and down with fear, thin body on full display. Not an ounce of muscle on him, Savage muses, moving closer to your body. If he doesn’t get you proper medical attention soon the wounds will undoubtedly become infected and kill you, if the blood loss hasn’t already damned your fate.

When he goes to pick up your limp body however, he’s stopped by your brother. Well, stopped is being rather generous. It’s more like he’s latched himself onto Savage’s waist, small fist beating at him with the strength one would expect of a child. He might not have even known he was hitting him if he wasn’t watching it happen.

It’s times like this that he’s most grateful for his cursed strength, easily detaching the boy from him and holding him by the back of his neck, tucking him under one arm as the other reaches for you. It's almost concerning how cold your body is against his own skin, and he’s more careful as he lifts you over his shoulder. His brother would surely find it laughable if he saw how gentle he was being with you.

Without hesitance, he turns back to the main camp, ignoring the looks the others cast his way as he carries your unconscious and broken body over his shoulder, your brother still fighting under his other.

Let them gossip. There’s none that will stand against him.

____________________________________

The first thing you’re aware of is warmth. Surrounding and enveloping your form, begging you to stay as it threatens to drag you back into the land of dreams. That in itself is enough to alarm you. The heating was always turned off at night to save energy, replaced in favor of thick blankets made from the local TekTek wool.

That’s your second red flag. TekTek wool is warm, yet coarse and scratchy. The fabric currently piled on top of and under you is significantly softer, having a slight musk to it.

Finally managing to drag your eyes open, the sight that greets you is not one you were expecting.

Dark fabric makes up the majority of the tent you find yourself in. It’s clearly worn, yet does a surprising job of keeping the wind outside from entering, slight ripples waving across the fabric yet never entering. A fire sits in the very center, smoke curling up and through a hole in the ceiling. It’s glow provides the only source of light in the space, illuminating the few objects scattered around, including the cot you currently find yourself residing on. Buried under layers of blankets, your hands travel to the bandages wrapped around your chest, the only thing covering your upper body and providing little warmth in comparison to the blankets you were previously under.

How did you get here? Where was Jay? The last thing you remember was the invaders arriving, then nothing. So the question was, how had you gotten from there to here? Alone in an unfamiliar tent.

Your questions are soon answered, a shuffling from the front of the tent drawing your attention. From between the flaps emerges a large figure, his horns nearly catching the fabric as he enters.

You both freeze, eyes locking on one another, equally surprised. There’s a moment of pause, each of you trying to determine your next move. It’s only broken when he takes a step forward, cautiously, but still sending you into a panic. Ignoring the nearly debilitating pain coming from your back, you scramble to the edge of the cot, pressing your back against the fabric and you can feel it straining against your weight. Trying your best to look intimidating, you send a glare his way.

“Where’s my brother?”

He says nothing for a moment, and you almost repeat yourself, cut off as he begins approaching. He’s there before you know it, long legs easily eating the space as his arms reach for you, forcably turning you around despite your resistance. He lets out a grumble as he inspects your back, scoffing about how you’ve ‘reopened them’.

The next thing you know, his hands are worming their way under the wrappings, loosening them as he goes to remove them.

The panic you had felt before was nothing compared to now, knowing where this scenario was going all to well. The stories of what you had heard from other village girls filling your mind, darkening your thoughts as you could only imagine what this monster was about to do to you.

“No! Stop!” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was nothing you could actually do against his strength. The bandages become looser, only held up by your hand as you wildly swing out with the other. All the while you try to distance yourself from him.

“Please!”

To your surprise, he pauses. His first sign of even showing he heard you since entering. His gaze never leaves you, and you can see the debate going on within his eyes. About what, your guess was as good as any. All that you cared was that he had stopped for the moment, allowing you to cover yourself with one of the many blankets in an attempt to preserve any decency you had left.

Growling, her turns and storms out the way he came, a wisp of freezing wind invading the tent as you're given a glance at the dark night sky outside before you’re once again left on your own. Not for long though, and you think he’s returned once again when the flaps open, only to reveal a young woman in similar armor that you had seen earlier. Not the person you trusted the most right now, but you still preferred her over the large Zabrak from earlier.

She approaches slowly, setting a medkit down on the bed as she smiles your way. “I’m here to change your bandages.” She extends a hand your way, which you only look at, neglecting to come out of your little corner.

“Please. You’ve opened your wounds again. If you don’t come out now, I’ll just wait for you to pass out and change them then.” she sounds a bit exhausted, and it takes a few more minutes of coaxing before you allow her access to your back, keeping your back towards her as she slowly unwraps the bindings. She deposits them into the fire, leaving you to watch them burn to ash as she retrieves a small container from the medkit.

Inside is a blue gel, surprisingly warm as it touches your skin and leaves a pleasant numbness. You can almost feel her gaze burning into your skin as she applies the gel, eyes skittering across old scars, fingers even tracing them when visible underneath the new wounds. Seeming to sense your unease, she rushes through the rest, quickly wrapping new bindings around your torso, apologizing with every small grunt of pain you let out.

Far too quick for your liking she’s done, packing up her things as she prepares to head out. If she’s leaving, then that means there’s more of a chance that he’ll come back. In fact, you have no doubt that she’ll go and tell him once she’s out of here.

Snapping the case closed, she turns back to you and hesitates for a moment.

“I don’t know what you did to gain Savage’s attention, but believe me,” her green eyes lock onto yours, holding a sense of severity that chills you to the bone.

“, he’s your best chance of surviving.”

With that you’re alone once again, left to your own thoughts and the crackling of the fire, which has gone down a significant amount since you first woke.

What did she mean by that? Gained his attention? And he was one of the ones who lead the attack on your home. Why would he be your saving grace? If anything, he would be the most likely to kill you.

Once again the flap opens, and you almost want to groan about the number of people going in and out, letting the heat out of the tent.

It’s the Zabarak. Savage, you remember the woman from before calling him. This time he has some additions. A cloak draped over one arm and a plate in hand. He moves slower than before, almost cautiously approaching you as he sets the items on the far end of the bed.

“Eat.” His voice is a deep baritone, rich yet monotone as he speaks, nodding towards the plate before moving towards the fire. Your eyes never leave his form as he tosses more wood onto the flame, moving them about without a fear of burning himself. Despite the fear still gripping your nerves, the food is tempting and only now do you realize how empty your stomach is, almost turning in on itself as it lets out a low rumble.

You grab the plate cautiously, picking at its contents as the man continues to poke at the fire. When you do finish, you find yourself wishing you had taken more time with it, no longer having the small distraction from your current situation. Despite the desire to throw on the warm looking cloak, you don’t. While he had directed you to eat, he had said nothing about the cloak. The last thing you wanted to do was make him angry, especially after he had shown how easily he could manhandle you earlier.

“You’re going to travel with me from now on.” He spoke, his back still towards you, yet it still carried loudly through the air, leaving no room for you to mistake his words. “If you have any objections, your fate will be the same as the rest of your village.”

You have no idea why he’s saying this, not when he could just direct you without any information. There’s only one thing on your mind though, present from the very beginning and still burning on your tongue.

“Where’s my brother.” You ask once again, praying to the maker you’ll get an answer this time. “What about him?”

His shoulders tense for a moment. The first emotion he’s shown besides anger.

“He will be allowed to come along given that he trains as a Mandalorian warrior. This is the best option for him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. While being forced to train with the ones who captured him wasn’t an ideal situation, you could only be thankful that he wasn’t fated for something more unfortunate. The only thing that worried you was his size. He was never much of a fighter, too kind to want to cause others pain. You would need to be there for him.

“I...I can still see him.”

“Yes.”

You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should ask another question. He already seemed to be wearing thin with his patience, but you had to know. You would never get a moment's rest until you knew.

“Why am I here.”

He doesn’t answer right away, throwing a few more logs onto the fire before turning to face you. His face was nothing but shadows, eyes standing out in startling contrast. His footsteps were slow and heavy as he made his way over to your form, unable to back away any further as you already find yourself in a corner. He grabs the cloak as he passes, the article almost ridiculously small in his hands.

As soon as he’s close enough, he lifts his arms and you flinch, expecting him to strike you out of annoyance and anger. It never comes though. The only feeling was that of heavy fabric settling on your shoulders, only there a moment before it’s clasped and you feel yourself being pulled forward.

Savage’s hands are wound tightly into the fabric, forcing your face to nearly touch his. This close you can see every detail of the markings splashed across his skin, the black only making his amber eyes burn even brighter, nearly suffocating with the intensity with which they stare. Almost like molten gold themselves.

His breath fans across your skin, lips nearly brushing yours as his forehead grazes your own, making you whimper as his horns roughly scrap the skin.

“You’re mine now. You will never leave my side, there at my every beck and call no matter what I may need. If you even think about trying to leave or betray me,” he pushed further, forcing you to lean back onto the bed. His weight pushed down enough to keep you in place without being crushing, one hand releasing the fabric of the collar to travel up your face. It brushes the hair away, catching the tear you hadn’t even realized had escaped.

“I’ll force you to watch as I kill your brother in the most painful way imaginable.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans forward, baritone voice speaking lowly in your ear as his lips tickle the skin.

“You’ll wish, beg, that I had killed you as well instead of what will happen to you after.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #savage opress x reader #savage opress #x reader #tcw #fanfiction #darth maul #tcw x reader #star wars the clone wars

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chenziee · 3 years

Note

Cool your back.

I have a very cute LawLu prompt

Where Law is still a pirate some how becomes (little doses he know)the Fiance of the Goda kingdom's Cat God of freedom named Luffy(much to the world nobles dismay) and all of the high jinx that come along with it. And Luffy keeps popping up whenever Law doesn't/needs him. Good thing he's cute.

Thank youuu! Glad to be back :D though still super slow I’m sorry

I might have taken some liberties there with Luffy but I hope you like it! :)

----------

A Divine ball of fluff

[Read on AO3 | Request info | Ko-fi]

Law startled awake at the sound of gunfire and cannons somewhere above his head. Stepping over the lamp on the floor, he only briefly wondered just how it had managed to fall from his nightstand before he forced himself to focus. He only grabbed Kikoku, then ran out of his room to join his crew on deck, ready to murder whoever had come to disturb his sorely needed nap.

“Hand over Luffy and I might just let you go alive, Trafalgar Law!”

With the angry shout being the first thing Law had heard upon opening the door leading to the Tang’s deck, Law could only groan. Not again. “I keep telling you, old man—” Law slammed the door shut behind himself maybe more aggressively than strictly necessary before quickly striding over to the side of the ship to glare at Vice Admiral Garp— “none of this was my choice! And your stupid grandson isn’t even here!”

“Uhm, about that, Captain…” Bepo trailed off, quiet and apologetic.

Law took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes momentarily and praying for patience. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sorry,” Bepo mumbled, dropping his head as if it was somehow his fault their regular ‘guest’ had invited himself over without any warning again.

Shaking his head, Law slowly looked at Garp again. The old man was fuming and not for the first time, Law marveled at the stubbornness of this entire family. No matter how many times he said ‘no’ to either one of them, they just kept coming back like a bad rash. Sometimes, Law couldn’t believe neither of the three brothers or their grandfather were related by blood. Hell, one of them wasn’t even human. But well… when it came down to it, Law couldn’t say he cared.

“Fine, take him,” he said finally, smirking at the loud crash from behind him that immediately followed.

“Torao~” someone whined before arms wrapped around Law’s waist

On reflex, one of Law’s legs shot forward as he braced for the impact of the entire body crashing into him a split second later. Why, just why did this man insist on lunging at people constantly? Law would never understand. He was lucky Law had managed to train his reactions well enough by now to not face plant into the railing anymore. “What?” he asked, smirk still shamelessly in place as he turned to look at the person who was hanging off of him.

The person—or rather, the god—in question was staring back at him with an unhappy frown and a pout on his lips. Law hated to admit he looked outright adorable then, and not just because of the cat ears sitting proudly on top of his head, alert and facing forward in agitation. Ears which were also covered in black, incredibly soft fur that Law would never get tired of petting.

Giving Law something that was probably supposed to be a glare, Luffy finally huffed before continuing, voice sounding incredibly sulky, “How could you just sell me out to gramps like this?”

“Because he could absolute keep you on his ship even if he did take you. Sure,” Law replied in a tone dripping in sacrasm while he rolled his eyes at the dramatic complaints of the literal embodiement of freedom, the person who could and absolutely did materialize out of nowhere on the Polar Tang whenever he fucking felt like it, without any warning, for the sole purpose of driving Law absolutely crazy with his ideas, only to then disappear into thin air again once he got bored. While on the open sea, with the nearest land two days of sailing away.

“That’s not the point!” Luffy cried, his grip on Law’s waist tightening.

Before Law could say anything back, a canon ball landed a bit too close to the ship, causing a wave of seawater to wash over the both of them. Law cursed loudly at the unexpected and fully unwelcome shower, just as Luffy also hissed loudly; if he was in his full monster cat form, Law could just imagine his fur raising until he looked like a huge, black ball of pure fluff.

…Now Law wanted to see it. He made a mental note to find an opportunity to scare the shit out of him at some point later, when he was in his true form.

“What was that for?!” Luffy demanded when he recovered from the shock.

“A warning shot!” Garp retorted, sounding just as angry as Luffy did. “You get off that pirate ship before I drag you off myself!”

“I’m not going back to Goa! It’s stuffy and tiny and they keep burning down my shrines, I hate it there!”

Garp growled as he grabbed another cannon ball. “As if I care about the idiot king’s orders, I’m not going to give you to those scumbags and I don’t care where you go—” he paused to aim his cannon ball at them threateningly before he continued— “but you’re not becoming a pirate on my watch, you brat!”

Law heard Luffy taking a deep breath behind him, no doubt in preparation to go off on his adoptive grandfather, and he sighed. Before either of these idiots could say anything, Law snapped, “If you’re just going to keep screaming at each other, can I go?”

“No,” Luffy said immediately, digging his claws into Law’s stomach painfully.

At the same time, Garp said, “You stay right where you are, I’m not done with you either!”

Law sighed. Every goddamn time.

“Prepare to submerge,” Law said to Bepo tiredly before raising his hand. “Room. Shambles.”

Appearing back in his room a split second later, Law took a deep breath, giving himself a moment to appreciate the blessed silence—or the alternative of, which meant only muffled rage instead of people screaming right in his ear. Not ideal but he would take it anyway. Honestly, why couldn’t these two ever do anything quietly? This whole thing could be so easily resolved if they had just sat down and talked but no, they just had to go yelling at each other while throwing cannon balls and scratching the other’s face off. And Law never had a say in getting caught in the middle of it every damn time either.

Sometimes, he cursed the day the Tang landed on Dawn Island, the place where all his problems started. But really, he couldn’t with clear conscience say that if he were to relive that day, that he wouldn’t do exactly the same thing; that he wouldn’t stop at the tiny, ancient looking shrine to talk to the young man sitting in front of it. That he wouldn’t answer every question Luffy had about the world beyond his small domain, that he wouldn’t look into those large, excited eyes and invite him to leave with him.

But, as stupid as it was regardless, if he could do it over, at the very least, would now actually know he was accidentally proposing to a literal god; one that was incredibly stuborn, selfish, and bright enough to be the actual sun. A god who also came in a package with a crazy grandfather, two over protective brothers, and the softest, warmest fur Law had ever had the pleasure of touching.

“Thanks for getting me away,” Luffy said after he made himself comfortable on Law’s bed, the anger and raw power that had been radiating off of him only moments ago replaced by his usual happy and carefree attitude.

Law clicked his tongue. “I was getting myself away. Not my fault you were clinging to me like a child.”

“Same thing.” Luffy waved him off.

Law didn’t have the energy to argue. Simply shaking his head at him, he instead bent down to put the lamp he had ignored earlier back on his nightstand.

“Weird how this was on the floor. I distinctly remember it was screwed on tight just yesterday,” Law noted, giving Luffy a pointed stare. Now that he knew this giant, ridiculously strong cat was on the ship, Law had no doubt just how the lamp got knocked off. Briefly, Law wondered whether there was even a point putting it back until Luffy left; he was probably going to knock it off again while staring at it with morbid fascination as it crashed to the floor again and again.

Law watched as Luffy’s eyes veered off to the side, his lips pursing as he mumbled, “Yeah, that’s super weird.”

Huffing out a small laugh, Law crossed the short distance between them, reaching out to ruffle Luffy’s hair. It was almost as soft as his fur was. “I know. A complete mystery,” he said with a smirk before he leaned down, pressing his lips to Luffy’s briefly.

The kiss was easily returned, a wide grin spreading on Luffy’s lips as soon as they separated, and despite himself, Law felt himself smile back. That damn smile would be the death of him. No matter how maddening this man could be, how loud and selfish, the moment he smiled like that, it was like all Law’s problems and frustrations were melting away. Luffy was simply beautiful; adorable and bright, yet absolutely terrifying and Law loved every little bit of it.

It was funny, actually. If someone had told him he would ever say ‘Luffy’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence just half a year ago, Law would have laughed in their face. Back then, Luffy was only some incredibly annoying giant cat who just wouldn’t leave him alone, someone who popped up on the Tang or wherever Law currently was just to ruin any and all of his painstakingly created plans. But now…

Now Law couldn’t remember what life was before him. He had learned to build his plans around Luffy recklessly charging forward, didn’t even bother trying to explain anything to him. He had long since stopped fighting the pull, the warm aura of power and charisma that drew people in and didn’t let go. It took a while but Law had finally accepted that he was not any different from all the other people Luffy had managed to charm without even realizing he was doing it ever since Law had gotten him out of the Goa Kingdom.

There was just something in the stupid divine cat that made people want to join and support him. Maybe it was the sense of absolute freedom that followed him everywhere; be it his own freedom, or the one of whoever Luffy thought deserved it.

“What’s wrong?” Luffy asked after a long while of them just looking at each other.

Law smiled, shaking his head at the cute, worried frown on his face. “Just hoping your grandfather won’t hit us before we sink far enough.”

“He’d never actually hit the ship, he’s a big softie,” Luffy announced, that grin back on his face.

“Good to know.” Law chuckled, finally sitting down on the bed with Luffy. “You know, I was sleeping before you two started fighting,” Law said offhandedly, glancing at Luffy and nearly snorting at the way his ears perked up in excitement.

“Wanna?” the other asked immediately, nearly vibrating in place.

Raising an eyebrow, Law gave Luffy a look. “I was going to say yes but seeing how excited you are, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Luffy decided, nodding to himself as he hopped off the bed, walking two steps towards the door to Law’s cabin before shifting into his monster cat form, then lied down slowly, watchful as to not break anything while he tried to fit his huge body into the tiny room.

Once Luffy looked back at him expectantly and Law was sure he was fully settled, Law went to join his boyfriend on the floor, careful not to step on any of his limbs or either of his two tails on the way. As he leaned back against the giant cat’s chest, he let his eyes slide shut, already feeling the exhaustion from earlier in the day settling back in. It was just so warm and soft and fluffy and Law would sooner die than admit out loud how much he loved it. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know by then anyway. What could he say, Luffy’s fur was impossible to resist. It was worse than Bepo’s in this aspect.

“No licking,” Law reminded, cracking one eye open to shoot Luffy a half-hearted glare when he felt his face come close to his body.

“You’re no fun,” Luffy whined.

Law could only sigh. “I’d just like to keep my skin where it is, thanks.”

“Fine.” Luffy huffed, thankfully keeping his sand-paper tongue where it should be, before he simply nudged Law with his forehead.

A smile pulled on Law’s lips, his hand raising to rest against the side of his little monster’s head. To anyone else, this position would seem incredibly dangerous, yet to Law, it was so very comforting. He had never felt safer than when he lay snuggled into into this god’s side, with the jaw which could fit his entire head inside twice over and then some positioned just inches away from his face.

Right here, Law knew he was home.

And while he gently stroked Luffy’s fur, Law’s eyelids slowly slid shut again.

~ Meanwhile ~

“What do we do?!” Shachi cried in panic, staring with wide eyes at the neptunian who looked like it was about to eat the Tang for an afternoon snack.

“We have to call the captain and Luffy, we can’t do this,” Ikkaku shouted back, trying to shoo away another two of these giant sea kings away together with Jean Bart.

A frustrated groan came from Clione in response, “I tried but they won’t answer and the door won’t open!”

“Why do they always have to sleep with Luffy’s giant furry ass blocking the stupid door! How are we supposed to get them out here?!” Shachi whined, mind slowly slipping into despair. Honestly, these lovesick idiots. What use was having a literal god around when he was never there to actually help when they actually needed him to?

This was why Shachi preferred dogs over cats.

----------

Dedicated to my cat who has the softest fur and also forces me to keep everything on the fucking floor.

[Request info | Ko-fi]

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faelicy · 4 years

Note

Miss Faelicy I would love to get your opinion on Bingqiu.

I see people posting things like how they are "problematic" and how they don't really love each other and SQQ only feels sympathy etc. Obviously there were struggles between them as there should be (considering all that happened) and just because sqq wasn't very open and super obvious about his feelings doesn't mean they are not there..this is how I interpreted it. I would love to know your opinion

Hello! This also covers part 2 of the previous ask.

First, massive spoilers for the end of the novel. Second, a disclaimer: I despise shipwars, which I think are behind most of those comments. I hate them because it's usually all in bad faith: everyone's already committed to their interpretation of the ships, and any discussion is just a guise for justifying their preferences.

So to any readers: I don't want anything here to be used as shipwar fuel. This post is about Bingqiu's canon arc and themes. Basically, I don't know or care if Bingqiu is a good ship, but I do think it's a well-written one.

I'll start by saying directly: for most of the novel, Bingqiu is neither healthy nor romantic. And that this is not bad writing, but on purpose.

A relationship that drives one party to mental breakdown isn't healthy. A relationship where that party says it's okay to hurt or kill them can't possibly be healthy. That happened because there was something deeply wrong with their relationship, something that can't be reduced to Xin Mo, miscommunication, or LBH throwing a tropey yandere fit.

And out of all three MXTX novels, only SV lacks a love confession from the MC to the ML. Again, I don't think it's an oversight, or just because SQQ's face is too thin. There are plenty of ways MXTX could have worked a subtle one in if she really wanted to.

In my opinion, Bingqiu's narrative can be split up into four arcs: Qing Jing Peak (ch 1-27), Jin Lan City (28-43), Post-revival (29-55), and Reconciliation (56-81). Other than the first arc, where their relationship is pretty straightforward, Bingqiu spend most of the rest in direct conflict.

I'll give an overview of the arcs here, but what I truly want to say about Bingqiu starts in arc 4, so if you're impatient you can scroll down. But the overview might help add context.

Jin Lan City arc is about LBH's anger at being brutally betrayed by the one person he thought he could trust. Here he tries to force answers out of SQQ, who he believes both hates him and is a hypocrite. He's driven by a desire to return to the past, but his rage and love makes his actions contradictory: on one hand he tries to win SQQ's approval constructively, by climbing to the top of Huan Hua Palace and performing good deeds, on the other hand his belief that SQQ doesn't care about him so it's all futile anyway (reinforced by SQQ's own actions) causes him to lash out destructively, going as far as to hurt and imprison SQQ.

LBH's bitterness is portrayed very negatively, because all it does is instill despair into SQQ, until SQQ ends up believing that he's only been a blight on LBH's life, and that he must make up for it by killing himself. Whereupon LBH breaks down, regressing into a childlike state. Some might ask, why does LBH never bring up the Abyss again afterwards? It's because he gives up here. This entire arc is about getting LBH to let go of past wrongs and to stop seeking answers, whether the reader believes it's fair to him or not. Because SQQ's life is more important.

Post-revival arc then is about SQQ trying to come to terms with a blackened LBH who also loves him. Interestingly, despite SQQ's horror at realizing LBH was romantically interested in him all along, SQQ actually has a very subtle but telling secondary reaction. To explain, let's back up to the first arc.

Starting around ch 9, probably as a sign of his growing affection, SQQ begins addressing LBH as 这孩子, or "this child," in his internal monologue, instead of LBH's name. He does it once each in ch 9, 12, 17, 21, 25. However, once Jin Lan City arc starts, SQQ drops the address entirely. LBH and "child" are never brought up together except for one snarky comment on LBH's tantrum being disgracefully childish in ch 38.

At first glance this doesn't look noteworthy because LBH by this point is no longer a kid. But when LBH kisses him in ch 49, SQQ changes again: right away he returns to using "child" on LBH, and the "this child" address starts popping up at a much higher frequency. By the end of SV SQQ has referred to LBH as a child in some manner at least 35 times (yes I went and counted), with the vast majority after ch 49, and he continues to do so right into the last extra.

Why was SQQ unwilling to use this address of affection for over 20 chapters? Perhaps because he too thought LBH hated him, and couldn't bear to think about him so intimately knowing that. So SQQ immediately falling back into it the moment he learns LBH loves him is a sign of his relief. He's still dismayed at the romantic part, but though SQQ likes to deflect from his real emotions (this is the guy who focused on bad naming sense after being fatally poisoned, who cavalierly commented only after it was all over that he'd expected to die), the fact that LBH loves and doesn't hate him, means a lot.

Here SQQ's feelings towards LBH are at their most complicated. He still assumes the worst of him like in Jin Lan City, but now because of the above, also sees a lonely child whenever LBH is unhappy and lost. It's like he has two filters actively interfering with each other, "crazed criminal" and "pitiful child," and so he flip-flops between pushing LBH away and comforting him. But when LBH drags CQMS into it, and even seemingly takes advantage of SQQ's love for him, SQQ's negative image and frustration with him only grows, until he finally snaps and tells LBH to never come near him again.

At this point SQQ still believes that LBH is the same black-hearted, invincible, devil incarnate that og!LBH was portrayed to be. The Reconciliation arc starts by chipping away at this filter that's been plaguing SQQ for so long. First the revelation that TLJ/ZZL was behind the sowers, thus clearing LBH's name at Jin Lan City. Then we see how unloved he is by his own father; we see him injured and helpless and unconscious. Meng Mo yells at SQQ, reinforcing that image of a vulnerable, terrified child. So by ch 62 SQQ has thrown away the "crazed criminal" filter completely, and in that same chapter they cling to each other and finally make up. Because while it's true that the current LBH is misanthropic, antisocial, and mercurial, SQQ has also finally accepted that he's still the same LBH he'd raised and doted on, back on Qing Jing Peak.

Now I'm going to talk about what I see as the most important part of Bingqiu. Yes, despite the wall of text already.

A common sentiment of Bingqiu shippers about their issues seems to be, "SQQ is dumb and oblivious; he can't figure out what LBH needs even though he loves him because he sees LBH as a novel character," but I think the problem is far more complicated and insidious than that. If that was everything, why give SQQ the epiphany that he misunderstood LBH so early? Why have him think in ch 66 that "truthfully, he'd never really trusted Luo Binghe, and that's why he kept accidentally hurting him?" If he's already realized that he shouldn't treat LBH like og!LBH (he even meets og!LBH in ch 71 to rub it in further), why do we go another 13 chapters believing their relationship is good and well, even giving us a sweet, happy moment in ch 75, only to show LBH having the worst breakdown of the novel just 4 chapters later? Was it all just padding to demonstrate the danger of Xin Mo?

Or is there something else beneath the surface?

In ch 66, the same chapter where SQQ implies he doesn't want to accidentally hurt LBH anymore, he says something telling. When LQG is skeptical that LBH can be trusted, SQQ thinks, 家里孩子不懂事，大人不容易做, or "when your child doesn't know any better, as the adult you don't have it easy." The child here of course refers to LBH, and the adult is SQQ, who's complaining about smoothing over LBH's messes. But what is SQQ implying here?

Doesn't know any better? That's what you say about a toddler who can't think for themselves, not a grown man. LBH is 25 and SQQ thinks he doesn't know better. Doesn't know better about what? LBH's wants, his needs? His feelings? Or even what's good for him?

And then you realize that's exactly how SQQ's always treated him, like a helpless child who can't make his own choices.

It's SQQ who chooses to throw LBH down into the Abyss without trying to talk to him. It's SQQ who decides that keeping silent is the best choice. It's SQQ who believes self-destructing in front of LBH will help, who thinks that breaking off their relationship is for the better. And it's SQQ who scolds LBH into tolerating CQMS, even though they hate each other and CQMS is hostile towards him. Who forces him to leave first at Zhao Hua Temple despite LBH's pleas otherwise, who shoos him out the window when CQMS walks in on them.

Every single one of these decisions, SQQ made believing it was for the best (repair LBH's relationship with his family, help him avoid arrest, not wanting to make excuses, wanting LBH to be free of his hatred), and every single one of them only damaged LBH further. Because SQQ's never listened to him, even once. Never consulted him or considered his feelings.

(And LBH did try to bring up his feelings on one of the matters in ch 75. He insinuates to SQQ that he doesn't like LQG calling him "little beast" or "ingrate." And SQQ's response is to dismiss them entirely, saying that LQG's "not wrong.")

SQQ has always loved LBH, but he's never once respected LBH's agency or personhood. Because LBH doesn't know better and SQQ does, so SQQ must make all his decisions for him.

And this, amplified by Xin Mo, is what finally drives LBH mad in ch 79.

To LBH, the important part isn't whether SQQ loves him, which I think he knew after ch 43 (it's why he can be so daring and pushy with SQQ's boundaries). What's important is that the moment SQQ believes abandoning LBH is justified for whatever reason again, SQQ absolutely will.

Ch 80's two-way noncon (since LBH was basically unconscious and couldn't consent) tends to draw most of the attention, but I actually think that what happens afterwards is one of the most important scenes for Bingqiu. There SQQ tries to sacrifice himself a second time for LBH, drawing Xin Mo's demonic qi into his body. Yet the novel claims that SQQ's actions here are completely different than in ch 43. SQQ himself says that this time he's doing it for LBH, while last time he was doing it for himself. But can the reader see a functional difference?

There is one, in fact: it's SQQ's response to LBH's choice afterwards. LBH decides to follow SQQ in death, even though this would void the point of SQQ's sacrifice. But instead of insisting otherwise, SQQ just accepts it. Because he finally understands that whether LBH's life is worth living, whether LBH will be better off, is for LBH and only LBH to decide.

It's the first time he respects LBH's agency. And this is the only reason why he and LBH can finally begin building a healthy relationship on the mess they've had up to now.

So that's what I see as the true beauty behind Bingqiu. It's about communication and mistaken assumptions, yes, but it's also about the nature of love between parent and child. The romantic developments were left to the extras, I believe, because this was the main story MXTX wanted to tell with them. Their relationship as lovers only starts afterwards, hence why SV ends with, "the story between you and I, has only just begun." It was never meant to be a whirlwind romance where they fall in love cleanly. It might not to be to everyone's tastes, but an incredible amount of thought was put into the narrative, and that's what amazed me when I first finished this novel.

(This post went on way too long and I ended up cutting off a huge chunk of tangential stuff and how SQQ came to his realization in ch 79: he didn't do it alone. It took him seeing the LBH in TLJ and the himself in YQY for him to understand. In fact, YQY and og!SQQ's relationship has a similar parent-and-child dynamic. I've touched on it before on twitter; if there's interest I might try writing that up here too.)

#scum villain #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #sv meta #spoilers #fae's meta #translation notes

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cocoswriting · 3 years

Note

lee wilbur, ler techno? maybe smth where wilbur’s being chaotic so techno takes him down a peg? you dont have to tho— /gen

Chaotic Mf

Summary; Basically what the ask says; Wilbur was being chaotic/creepy and needed to be taken down a peg. [PLATONIC. DO NOT TAG AS SHIP.]

Warning(s); This is a tickle fic! If you don’t like that kind of stuff, then I recommend you just scroll past.

“You put ecosystems in jars?..”

“Yeah,” Wilbur responded casually, laying upside-down on the couch opposite Techno. He had his legs curled over the back of the couch and his head was dangling off the edge—it was a wonder how he hadn’t gotten uncomfortable enough to shift positions yet. Wilbur seemed to have a strange habit of never sitting correctly when he was in one of his “chaotic” moods, always finding some weird way to rest instead. “I go out and collect mud, rocks, soil, and I put them inside the jar.” he explained, and Techno scrunched up his face both in confusion and mild disgust.

“And... this is a normal thing?” Techno asked disbelievingly, flipping a page in the book he had in his hands, though it wasn’t as if he was paying much attention to the text anymore. Wilbur nodded happily from across the room, grinning as he opened his mouth to continue explaining, only to get cut off by Techno. “Wil, I don’t really care. I’m tryn’ to read right now.”

Wilbur huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting in fake dismay and staring at Techno almost expectantly, even though the piglin was very clearly no longer looking at him. “Well, you should care,” the brunet replied with a sassy tone of voice, sounding akin to an annoyed child. “I swear I’m not the only one who does this! Ranboo does it too, or at least he did...”

“Ranboo did that—?... No, Wilbur, really, just talk about literally anythin’ else. I do not care about your jar ecosystems,” Techno was already used to dealing with Wilbur’s chaotic moods. They’d come in at random times, last a couple hours, and then eventually he’d lose all the excess energy he had and go back to “normal.” So it wasn’t as if he actually expected Wil to stop when he was told to—Techno knew he wouldn’t—but he figured he might as well try to change the topic that Wilbur would ramble on about. Honestly, Techno just wanted to read his book. “Can’t you bother someone else? It isn’t that late, Phil and Tommy are still up.”

Wilbur let out a loud, dramatic sigh followed by a shake of his head and a couple tutting sounds. “You’re no fun,” his tone was playful, indicative of the grin that was on his face, despite his words suggesting otherwise. “But fine! I’ll talk about something else.” Wilbur rolled himself over on the couch, sitting upright and then standing up to make his way over to the man sitting across from him. Techno tore his eyes away from the book and glanced up when he realised Wilbur had approached, raising an eyebrow and glaring half-heartedly at the musician.

“What?” Techno’s voice sounded tired, more tired than usual, but bore no real malice as he impatiently awaited Wilbur’s response.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

“Oh my god,” Techno looked down and rubbed his temples, dropping the book beside him and running one of his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. He heard Wilbur’s shrill laugh at his reaction, which was shortly followed by the sound of shuffling as he sat down next to the piglin and crossed his legs, seemingly prepping himself to start telling whatever story he wanted to tell Techno about. “Please.”

“I already told Phil about this one,” Wilbur began, biting back another laugh at Techno’s long sigh which came straight after. “So, there are these things called ‘weeping angels—!” Wil was quickly cut off by a rough jab to his side. He managed to force back any verbal reactions he might have given to the sudden electric tingly feeling that spread all throughout his side, but he couldn’t conceal the very obvious flinch and curling of his lips.

“You good?” Techno asked, having removed his hands from his face to shoot his brother a concerned glance. Wilbur felt heat rush to his face, but he couldn’t tell whether he’d paled, or gone red. “Did you...” He shifted closer to the brunet, cocking his head to one side. “You flinched,” The elder stated quite obviously, expression a mixture of curiosity and interest.

“You caught me off-guard,” Wilbur quickly stammered out, a sheepish half-smile spreading over his face. Techno frowned—and it was clear from just that gesture that he wasn’t buying it.

Techno placed one hand on his side and left it there, unmoving. Wilbur didn’t flinch that time, but he wanted to, his flustered state having raised his hypersensitivity to the point where he wanted to squirm even just imagining that Techno might find out. “I was just tryin’ to shut you up, you needa’ tell me what happened or I’ll assume that you’re hurt,” Techno said, beginning to slowly rub two(2) fingers in small circles on Wilbur’s side. The last part of his sentence came off as more of a threat to his brother—he didn’t want to worry Techno, but at the same time, getting found out like this would be so embarrassing.

“I-I’m not—“ Wilbur was cut off by a quiet gasp, but not quiet enough for Techno to let slip. One of Techno’s ears twitched at the sound and he made a gruff huffing noise, now reaching down to tug up the hem of his brother’s sweater, exposing the bottom half of his side. “Hey, I’m not hurt, okAY—!” Techno, being the oblivious bastard he was, began to rub gentle circles on Wilbur’s bare side, which elicited a comical noise sounding like a mix between a squeal and a yelp from the man. As Wil managed to squirm away from the tingles, butterflies erupted in his belly when he thought; there’s no getting out of this now.

Silence filled the room for a couple seconds, the gears turning in Techno’s head before it finally clicked, and he couldn’t help the smug expression that formed on his face when he realised what Wilbur had been trying to hide. “You’re ticklish,” he emphasised the ‘T-word’, causing Wilbur’s face to heat up even more, and the fact that Techno’s hand still remained hovering just ever-so-slightly above his side, was not helping. “How come I didn’t know this before? You keepin’ secrets from me, hm?” Techno shoved both of his hands up Wilbur’s shirt and gently ran his nails up and down his skin, eliciting a few snickers along with squeaks and he tried to muffle his giggles.

Wilbur frantically shook his head ‘no’ and looked down, his hair falling in front of his face and (thankfully) hiding his bright pink cheeks. Tingles and shockwaves of tickly sensations shot up his sides, the feeling only increasing the longer Techno’s fingers lingered in the same spot. “Well— you’re definitely much quieter now,” Techno remarked, and Wilbur opened his mouth to give a sassy response, only for a loud squeak to come out instead as the gliding nails began to gently scratch at each side of his back. He arched forward but shifted backwards, resting his back against the armrest and laying down. Wil had hoped this would quell the sensations at least a little, but it only made them worse, the little scratches becoming rougher as Techno’s fingers got trapped. “This seems like a good way to take you down a peg whenever you’re in one of your ‘chaotic’ moods.”

“N-no—hohahahaa!” As Techno moved his hands up to Wilbur’s ribs, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. High-pitched giggles flooded from Wilbur’s lips as he wriggled and squirmed, throwing his head back as his hands switched between trying to protect the targeted spots and trying to push Techno away. It wasn’t exactly working out for him, and eventually he just curled up, hoping to drown out the tickles somehow. It only got worse once he felt Techno begin to drill his thumbs into the spaces between each of the bones. “NOHO! DOHohon’t dohoho thahahat, plehehehahase!”

As Techno gazed down at the giggling boy, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt at the sight of his bright, carefree smile. “Why not?~” His tone of voice was still deadpan, but it had a sing-songy edge to it this time. If Wilbur had the guts to muster up insults at the time, he would’ve called him every name in the book just as revenge for the horrible teases. “Does it tickle too much? Surely you can’t be that ticklish, right?~” Every time the T-word was mentioned Wilbur felt the pit in his stomach fill with more butterflies, and his blush began to slowly spread out to his neck and ears. “It’s your own fault for bein’ annoyin’.”

“Ihihihi wahahasn’t beheheing ahahannoying!” Wilbur insisted, his giggles slowly increasing as Techno’s fingers danced their way up his ribs, heading for his armpits. But before they could reach the spot, he instinctively slammed his arms down to protect himself, blocking the offending hands just in time. It seemed that Techno took this defensive action as provoking, because his immediate response to that was to sigh disappointedly and start skittering around Wil’s neck and shoulders, causing him to scrunch up like a turtle and begin to wriggle side-to-side in a weak attempt at escaping the tickles. “Nohohoho! Fuhuhuahahack ohohoff— yohohou’re sohoho mehehehehahan!”

“Mean? This isn’t mean,” Wilbur could hardly make out Techno’s words anymore, considering he was much more focused on the shocks of tickles and his own embarrassment. But once he heard those words leave his brother’s lips, he couldn’t help but start squirming even harder on top of squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t process what the words meant in his state—but he’s heard that tone before. And that tone means ‘you fucked up’. “You wanna see mean?” Techno asked rhetorically and Wilbur began frantically shaking his head, letting out giggly little “nononono”s as he tensed, prepping himself for the inevitable attack that would come next.

“AAAHAA!” Wilbur shrieked as he felt Techno’s lips make contact with his tummy, quickly followed by an explosion of tickles as he blew a raspberry, shaking his head during it to make it even worse. Wil bucked, cackled and squealed, only for his hips to get held down and mercilessly drilled into by two(2) of Techno’s fingers. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire, and he felt everything—every last pinch to his hips, every raspberry that was blown, and it was almost too much for him to handle. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. “NAHAHAHAAA! TEHEHEHAHAHAHA—!”

Even after Techno ceased the raspberries, he still seemed fully intent on being as merciless as possible. He continued to drill right into the dip of Wilbur’s hipbone, using his other hand to rapidly squeeze his tummy, never letting up and never slowing down. Wilbur had completely given up on trying to fight back, his arms were too tired for that now and he knew it was no use, so instead he began using his hands to cover his bright pink face with. “Oh, poor Wilbur,” Techno began, a very obviously feigned sympathetic tone in his voice. “Being tickled is just such a hard job.”

“SHUHUAHAHAT UHUHUHUP!” Wilbur forced out through his hysterics, helplessly rolling his torso back and forth, attempting to focus his attention on literally anything else other than the tickles he was receiving. He couldn’t decide if he loved or hated it—it was unbearable and maddening, he felt like he was being driven up a wall, but at the same time he had to admit that he was having fun. He was soaking up all the attention like a sponge. It didn’t take much longer before his laughter became wheezy and strained, though, and he’d decided he had enough. “O-OHOHOKAHAY! STOHOHAHAHAHAP, THAHAHAHAT’S ENOHOHOHOUGH—!”

Techno listened straight away, ceasing the tickles and backing away as Wilbur curled in on himself, hugging his midsection while trying to rid of the after-tingles that still remained. “You alright?.. was it too much?” Techno asked, reaching over to deliver a couple, comforting pats to Wilbur’s head. He would’ve leaned away if it weren’t for how exhausted he was from all his laughter. “...sorry,”

“N-noho, noho... it,” Wilbur knew he should be careful with his choice of words there. He didn’t want to give away how much he’d actually enjoyed himself, but at the same time, he was well aware he’d likely given that fact away while being tickled. He supposed there was no point in lying—especially if it would risk making Techno worry over nothing. “...wahas nice.”

There was no response for a couple seconds, but then the silence was interrupted by a snort coming from Techno, and Wilbur instantly knew what he would have found amusing. But as Techno gently ran his fingers through his hair, practically soothing Wilbur to sleep, he found he didn’t care as much as he did before.

They should do this again sometime.

#mcyt #dsmp #tickle #tickling #tickle fic #fic #ticklish!wilbur #lee!wilbur #ler!techno #ler!technoblade #requests

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anncanta · 3 years

Text

Free will argument

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing, John Seward

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28 @dragatha @khyruma

Read on AO3

Or read below

Zoe's voice trailed off in her head, and Agatha went to the window.

Light rain glittered in drops on the bushes and benches of the hospital park, the evening sun peeped through the rare clouds. Slowly Agatha put on her jacket and dialed the number she found in her grand-niece's phone.

‘Jack, get me out of the hospital. I'm discharging myself.’ It sounded confident. The young man on the other end of the line tried to object, but Agatha said: ‘Hurry up,’ – and dropped the call.

They rode in the taxi in silence. They stopped once – at an antique shop. Digging through Zoe's memory, Agatha found this little store in Soho, selling all sorts of unnecessary trifles along with false antiquities and pseudo-magic nonsense.

Climbing out of the car, Agatha returned five minutes later. Leaning over to the open window, she put the bag with aspen stakes on Jack's lap and, going around the car, got back.

She did not know why she was going to Dracula and did not know what kind of reaction she expected from him. And she really had no idea what she was going to do.

‘You don`t look very surprised.’

‘You don`t look very dead.’

‘I`m getting there.’ Agatha walked through the open door and, staggering slightly, sat down at the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack follow her apprehensively. She heard her own voice telling how easy it was to find Dracula's apartment.

When Dracula grabbed the guy by the throat, Agatha woke up abruptly.

‘Let him go,’ she said, feeling the pain rise inside Zoe's body in a hot wave. Why is she here?

‘Why?’ Dracula turned to her with interest.

The pain squeezed her chest and then gone. Agatha swallowed.

‘This is England,’ she said, catching her breath. ‘Conversation preseeds dinner.’

So little time, Agatha thought, looking at how Dracula threw the young man away and, turning to her, leaning with both hands on the table. Almost unconsciously, she mirrored his pose, inside fleetingly noting that she had never been in a more stupid situation.

Except when she died aboard the ship, which she herself blew up, hoping to kill the vampire. Agatha frowned, shaking her head. She needs to concentrate. She thinks about the wrong things.

‘– waiting for someone?’ Jack's voice came to her through the fog in her head.

‘Lucy Westenra.’ The name of the girl Dracula killed brought Agatha back to reality. She raised her head. ‘Do you expect her to rise up and come to you? I have to disappoint you – she was cremated.’

Agatha was surprised by Dracula's reaction. Anger, disbelief, irritation – and a shadow of horror suddenly replaced each other on his face. Did he really feel something for that child, Agatha asked herself distantly. Most likely, however he just…

Dracula's ferocious monologue was interrupted by a sharp ringing at the door. He paused, looking first at Jack, then at Agatha with a victorious smile.

‘You underestimated... hmm... vampires' liveliness,’ with flashing eyes, he said and went to open. He turned around halfway. ‘Dr. Seward. She was your friend, wasn't she?’

Agatha spent the next half hour desperately battling nausea, pain, and fear. The scene with the ill-fated, half-burned Lucy was disgusting, and Agatha almost regretted bringing Jack with her.

It is better for old acquaintances to meet in private.

‘...at least she died well. This is a rare quality, believe me.’

Agatha shuddered.

‘Quality or taste?’ she asked, turning to Dracula.

‘Oh, taste,’ Dracula nodded mockingly. ‘Her taste was unique. I've never seen anything like it before. It was as if she was in love with death.’

‘That`s it!’ Having doused Agatha simultaneously with pain and heat, understanding came. ‘That`s everything.’ She looked at Dracula, frozen in bewilderment. She turned to the tear-stained youth. ‘Jack, go away.’

‘Dr. Helsing, I can't…’ he protested. ‘I will not leave you…’

But Agatha did not listen to him.

‘I need to speak to Count Dracula. It's very personal,’ she said, looking Dracula in the eye. ‘He wouldn’t want anyone else to hear it.’

‘Why not?’ Dracula asked.

‘Because now I know exactly what you fear most,’ Agatha said. She straightened, returning his victorious smile. The pain receded, she suddenly felt at ease.

‘Well, I don’t know,’ Dracula looked at her with childish delight.

‘I know you don’t,’ Agatha replied.

‘Dr. Seward, you may leave,’ Dracula said without turning to Jack.

‘Get out,’ said Agatha.

She glanced at Jack. He looked at her questioningly, as if he expected her to explain everything to him and tell him what the hell was going on here. Agatha sighed slightly.

To tell the truth, she was not sure of anything. Least of all – how what she just realized will help.

‘Today is going to be a beautiful day,’ she said to Jack with her eyes pointing to the curtained window. Deciding that he understood her plan, the guy nodded and left, finally leaving them with Dracula alone.

For some time after his departure, Agatha stood with her head bowed. Pain, faintness, and weakness returned again. I can't do it, she thought.

For just a second, she let go of the expensive tabletop, on which she was leaning so as not to fall, and found herself in the center of some kind of hurricane. She was hugged, held close to Dracula, and he showered her face with kisses. Agatha froze, slightly stunned from all this and from amazement without even trying to escape.

Dracula hugged her with both hands, stroked her head, touched her vertex with his lips.

‘I missed you... I missed you so much,’ he whispered into her hair, laughing.

His lips were unexpectedly warm and soft and he was strong and she was so tired. So confused, so worn out. A stranger in this time, in this place, in this life, and in this body. Pressing her cheek to his shoulder, Agatha briefly allowed herself to just be where she was. She felt good.

Unexpectedly, this thought sobered her.

‘Let me go,’ she said emphatically. He, oddly enough, obeyed instantly. ‘What do you mean – you missed me?’ looking up at him, asked Agatha.

‘That means that I badly wanted to see you.’ He smiled. Agatha frowned in annoyance.

‘You set it up. Zoe... you offered her your blood.’

‘She wanted it herself.’

Agatha flared up.

‘Do not try to confuse me!’

‘It's not that easy to do.’ He took her chin. ‘Agatha,’ he said, looking at her carefully, ‘tell me what you understood about me.’

This simple request uttered without irony and the usual mocking subtext suddenly made all her diligently accumulated anger disappear.

Walking around Dracula, Agatha slowly, overcoming sharp spasms twisting her body, went to the curtained window. She raised her hand and jerked the curtain down.

After waiting for the fuss and screams to subside behind her, she turned around.

‘It`s one hundred and fifty million miles away. What would it do to you?’

Dracula sat on the floor, shielding his hand from the sun, and looked blankly.

Suddenly softening, Agatha walked over. She dropped down next to him.

‘Have you ever thought,’ she asked, ‘why are you the only one of your... kind who is afraid of the sun? Why could Jonathan stand it and why was the girl in your basement not afraid of it? Like the cross, by the way. And Lucy Westenra, by the way, came here before dark.’ Agatha watched his expression slowly change. ‘Why?’

He frowned.

‘I do not know. I thought it was –’

‘Just habits,’ she said. ‘The things which you taught yourself to be afraid many centuries ago, so as not to think about the most important of your fears.’

She turned around, leaning her back wearily on him. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, and in some incredible way, this gave her strength.

‘All your fears lead to one,’ Agatha said, closing her eyes and throwing her head back on his shoulder. ‘Lead to the fear of death. You are a warrior from an old line of warriors, and therefore you hate this fear and are ashamed of it. That's why you came up with all your superstitions and signs.’ Lord, the pain was terrible. Agatha grimaced. ‘Simple as two times two.’

He kissed her again, now somewhere on the cheek or temple. Agatha did not have the strength to resist and argue: Zoe's body was slowly fading away, she every minute waited for the blessed night to fall on her.

Agatha did not remember her last death. Her awakening in the twenty-first century was abrupt and rather awkward. Waking up in a body that she shared with a frightened and lost grandniece, Agatha spent the first few days looking around and trying to understand what was happening and what to do with all this. It was not easy to establish contact with Zoe – she was exhausted and stubborn, overflowing with a sense of guilt. It took three months before her weakened mind was able to listen to something other than itself.

Agatha reproached herself for missing the time. Perhaps she should have been more persistent. Perhaps then young Lucy Westenra would be alive.

It was easy to explain to Zoe why Agatha went to Dracula. Much harder – to explain it to herself. She did not have any means and even physical strength to fight him, and no support, except for a frightened young man, gripped by double grief – because of the loss of his beloved and a friend he was about to lose. Why did she do it?

Because there is free will in the world. Agatha smiled without opening her eyes, remembering how she argued about it there, in the wine cellar, with Dracula. He convinced her that she was looking for violent passions and great adventures, deliberately choosing the dangers – and he believed that she was right in this. Her position, however, rather confirmed his words – even if Agatha did not know what exactly was happening, one thing was obvious: he kidnapped her and kept her with him.

‘What would await you in the monastery, Agatha?’ he said during one of their conversations at chess. ‘Monotonous days, hard work, and prayers to someone you don't even believe in.’

‘I believed in Him thanks to you,’ Agatha answered, and he smiled incomprehensibly and strangely.

Agatha opened her eyes.

‘I lost,’ she said quietly. ‘I lost because I teased the wolves.’

‘I wouldn't jump to conclusions,’ there was a whisper in her ear, and the warm lips moved down to the base of her neck. They played and teased and caressed her until…

‘Will you ever leave me alone?’ Agatha asked, looking up from the chess table in front of her. She opened her mouth again, about to say something harsh, and suddenly realized that the pain was gone. During the three months that Agatha spent in Zoe's body, the pain became so familiar that it was as if, after the even creaky sound that tormented her day and night, there was suddenly quietness.

She looked at Dracula. He sat without saying a word, as the last time, demonstratively clutching a glass of blood in his hand.

‘It's poisoned,’ Agatha said, pointing to the glass.

Dracula was still silent.

‘What do you want?’ Agatha asked almost plaintively. Confusion and fatigue hit her at once. Dracula put the glass on the table, stood up, walked around it, and stopped in front of her.

‘Agatha,’ he said softly. She got up. He smiled. ‘I want to offer you... a choice.’

Agatha frowned. It didn't take a big mind to understand what he meant. Zoe's blood was poisoned, but apparently not enough to kill him. She looked into his eyes.

‘Either I will finish you off, and your death will be quick and easy,’ Dracula spoke her thoughts out loud, ‘or let me convert you.’

The last word made her recoil. Turning away, Agatha walked around the small room several times before remembering that it was impossible to escape from it. Desperately, she looked at Dracula. He stood where he was, not trying to speak to her or stop her. And that moment she clearly realized that he would not force her.

She went up to him again.

‘I have about ten minutes left to live,’ she said softly.

‘That's enough for me,’ Dracula assured her. ‘Although, judging by your blood, you have at least two weeks.’

He was serious. And it was more frightening than all his previous bullying. Agatha ran her hand over her face.

‘You want to make an animal out of me. If only to save me, and you could continue to play with me, you are ready to make me a primitive creature driven by hunger.’

‘I'm glad that you think so highly of me.’ Now in the voice of Dracula, there were familiar, risible notes. ‘But your prejudices prevent you from seeing the essence. At this time, the vampire no longer needs to be a hungry animal,’ he said impatiently. ‘You don’t even have to kill to live. My lawyer delivers blood to me at my first order. Given the required parameters and the talents that I am looking for. Yes, he is quite inventive,’ Dracula smiled in response to the dumbfounded expression on her face. ‘You don’t have to hide, you’ll no longer be an outcast. It would be all the joys of this world before you, including the sun.’ He raised his hand and stroked her cheek. ‘Hate me, if you want, leave me by slamming the door – whatever you want, please. But allow yourself to use this chance.’

Out of place, Agatha imagined what would have happened if she had actually stayed in the monastery. Probably, she would have lived a peaceful life, which would have found its completion in a modest cell on the slope of long fruitless years. She looked at Dracula. He tore her out of that life by the roots, throwing in the face of the self-confident and naive nun the consequences of her own impulsive actions. He killed her, returned her after one hundred and twenty-three years, and offers her... a life without him. Shaking her head, she laughed.

‘Why are you sure that you will succeed?’ she asked without preamble. ‘If I remember correctly, you told Jonathan that most of those whose blood you drink die. How then are you going to?..’

‘Jonathan helped me understand how simple everything is,’ Dracula replied with a smile. ‘And difficult at the same time. Free will, Agatha,’ he said, seeing that she still didn't understand. ‘It's all about free will.’

Agatha frowned, but not because he was now literally quoting what she was thinking.

‘Lucy… you told her something… that in four hundred years she was the first to give you her blood voluntarily. She wanted you. She wanted to stay with you. Like that girl in the basement, probably. But Jonathan,’ Agatha said immediately, ‘Jonathan definitely didn't want that. He begged you to let him go.’

‘He wanted to leave me,’ Dracula agreed. ‘But also – before he died, he swore that he would do everything in his power to stop me. But what could an exhausted, almost drunk dry, sick person do to me?’

Agatha's eyes widened.

‘To fight you, he had to become your equal,’ she said, barely audible. ‘He became a vampire because he wanted to.’

‘Like everyone else,’ Dracula nodded. ‘It's a pity that I realized this so late.’

Agatha just brushed aside another dark joke. Turning away from Dracula, she stared ahead of her for a while.

When she looked at Dracula again, her gaze was direct and open, and she did not need to say a word. He already understood everything.

The next thing Agatha saw was the sun's rays. They shimmered, shone, covered her body from head to toe, spread a sheet of bright light under her. Fascinated by this incredible sight, she did not immediately realize that she was naked and was lying in the arms of a naked Dracula, who touched her shoulder with a kiss.

‘It always seemed to me that the conversion had to be... painful,’ she gasped in amazement.

Dracula smiled, looking up.

‘After all this time, did you think, I`d let it hurt?’

#dracula 2020 #bbc dracula #count dracula #agatha van helsing #dragatha #fanfic

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

Text

Fic: Possession

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales/You (female reader with thin body, established relationship, no kids)

Words: 2,592

Warnings: Talk of weight loss and working out in order to achieve weight loss (hers), fellatio, Sir!Frankie, some spanking, rough sex, dirty talk.

Summary: Frankie finds your gym clothes and worries (but not really) about you forgetting who you belong to as you flaunt your hot body around the gym in mini shorts and crop tops.

Paging @apascalrascal for helping me with Frankie's motivation here. Thank you, dearie! *mwah*

“Baby, what’s this?”

You glance over at Frankie who’s marching into the bathroom, holding up a couple of garments which you recognize from the laundry basket. He’s been home for a few days and today you’ve finally settled into some kind of domestic rhythm that doesn’t involve having sex as soon as you lay eyes on each other.

You turn your attention back to the mirror, and the cotton round you’re using to clean your eye makeup off.

“Workout clothes. Why?”

“You go to the gym wearing this? In public?”

“Well, it’s a gym, but yeah, I guess it’s a public place. What’s the problem?”

You put the cotton down and frown at him but finding it hard to keep your face straight: Frankie’s looking scandalized and concerned at the same time. The garments he’s holding up are a pair of tiny shorts and a netted crop top with a built-in sports bra. You realize he hasn’t seen them before, they’re quite new, you got them while he was deployed. And he was gone for four months this time around; time you spent at the gym because you had nothing better to do.

“You’re telling me you’re parading yourself around the gym in these?”

“So what?”

You toss the cotton round into the waste basket and turn to Frankie. You know very well what he’s getting at, but you want him to confess it and own up to being a possessive little macho prude.

“They’re tiny!” he exclaims in a voice that suggests he’s talking about the moral bankruptcy of America, not your gym clothes.

“Yes, because working out makes me sweat and with those clothes I can be more comfortable,” you explain patiently, like he’s a child. Internally, you’re grinning like an idiot because this is delightful.

“You used to wear, like, leggings and a t-shirt,” Frankie reminds you sourly. “What makes you want to wear this now?”

You grin then, confident and teasing.

“Because I’ve lost a lot of weight, built a lot of muscle, and I now have a smoking hot body that I’m proud to show off.”

It’s true: you spent most of your free time during Frankie’s last deployment in the gym. You had had a membership for a couple of years now and used it every once in a while but this had been his first deployment since you two moved together, and coming home to an empty house had been unbearable to you. You started going to the gym more, first with a friend, then by yourself. You even booked the PT for an individual plan, one that you had been following strictly. You were happy with the results and had treated yourself to a new workout wardrobe, indulging in tiny shorts and crop tops, clothes you never thought you’d wear in public before this.

The corners of Frankie’s mouth twitch and he smiles despite himself, but his eyes are still dark.

“Do you have to show it off to all kinds of people? Can’t you just limit yourself to me?” he suggests, holding up the clothes again. “I mean… it’s basically underwear!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” You roll your eyes. “Underwear is what I’m wearing now, and it’s nowhere near that bad.”

You’re very pleased with Frankie’s reaction, though. It’s strange but a display like this from any of the previous men you used to date would have sparked huge fights, and now… you like it when Frankie has opinions about what you wear in public. One reason is that you know that he would never try to stop you or judge you for it.

“Do other women dress like this at the gym?” Frankie wants to know. You have to take a moment to recall. You don’t pay attention to what anybody is wearing when you’re working out.

“I don’t know, Frankie, I don’t spend a lot of time looking at what people are wearing when I’m working out.”

“So basically you could all be semi naked there.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” you sigh and splash water in your face. As you’re patting your skin dry with a towel, the clothes land next to you on the countertop.

“Put them on.”

“What?”

“Put them on. Show them to me.”

You look up at Frankie, frowning, only to find his brown eyes dark and fixed on yours in a predatory manner.

Oh. Okay, then.

You turn your back to him and take off your bra, knowing full well that he can catch more than a fair share of side boob in the mirror. You then wriggle into the top, adjust the built-in bra, and bend over to pull on the shorts. When dressed, you turn around and slant your hips to the side, planting your hand to it.

“See? Perfectly normal workout clothes.” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

“Shut up,” Frankie tells you in a husky growl, his eyes wandering over your body, making your skin rise in goosebumps. You’ve had so much sex since he got back to last you for a week but apparently, you’re about to go for another round.

“You just gonna stand there and watch?” you purr. His reply is immediate and delivered in a low, rough voice.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

“I have a problem with authority.”

“I can see that. Insolent girl.”

Desire pools deep in your belly at his words and in anticipation of what’s about to happen. In a few strides, Frankie’s right in front of you, brows pulled together and mouth set in a grim line.

“On your knees,” he commands you.

“Fucking make me,” you defy him, and he makes you regret it immediately. Grabbing you by the arm, he maneuvers you around and bends you over the sink before slapping your ass quite hard. A strangled cry escapes your lips and Frankie meets your eyes in the mirror. You give him a small nod to tell him that you’re okay, and he responds by caressing the butt cheek he just slapped, his hand warm and soft, before raising it and bringing it back down on your shorts-covered skin.

“Had enough?” he asks, and you throw him a provocative glance in the mirror, lower lip caught between your teeth.

“Apparently not,” he notes, and slaps you again, this time on the other buttock. You can’t prevent the loud yelp from escaping your lips as your body quivers with lust.

“You gonna take what I give to you now?” Frankie wants to know. You inhale slowly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

He grabs you by the neck and pulls you up before turning you around and pressing you down to your knees in front of him. He’s already sporting a bulge and you can barely contain your excitement as you pull down his sweatpants and boxer briefs. His cock springs free and you look up at him and lick your lips.

“That’s it, beautiful girl, fucking suck it already.” Frankie strokes your hair and, to your surprise, doesn’t press your face to his crotch, but lets you decide the pace. You cup his balls with one hand and close your fingers around the base of his dick with the other, and lean in for a light swirl of the tongue on the moist tip. Frankie exhales audibly above you. Slowly, you take his cock in your mouth, deeply, before releasing it with a pop and once against licking the tip and down to the base. Your fingers play with his balls, appreciating the familiar weight of them, as you pump his cock with your other hand a couple of times before going back to sucking him. Letting go of his balls, you slide your hand to his thigh and over to his hip, where you move him in rhythm with your sucking. He catches your drift and starts to slowly, carefully, fuck your mouth.

”Fuck, that’s my good girl, letting me fuck your pretty little mouth like this,” he groans, and you moan in return, your pussy throbbing for his cock. You let your hand rest lightly on his thigh, ready to press him away if he goes too fast or too hard, but he sticks to a pace you can cope with. That’s one of the things that you really appreciate with Frankie: even when he’s rough he takes your comfort into consideration. He’d never thrust his dick down your throat like you were a fuck doll.

You glance up at him and see that him grabbing the sink with one hand. The other is nestling into your hair but the grip is light. You get ready to finish him when he pulls out without warning, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips and his cock.

”Your mouth feels so good, baby girl,” he growls, looking down at you and grabbing your chin, angling your face up so you can meet his stern gaze. ”But I know you have another hole that feels even better.” His large thumb passes over your lips and you part them, sucking his digit into your mouth. God, you love it when he talks like this to you. He’s a communicative lover but this kind of dirty talk isn’t on the menu too often.

”Tell me what you want, pet,” he coos to you, surprisingly soft now, stroking your hair. You wet your lip and swallow the taste of his precum. He’s going to make you beg for it. You know exactly what to say and how to say it for him to give it to you directly, but you know this is a game, you have to play helpless, give him a reason to prolong the wait.

”I want you to fuck me,” you moan, your hand on his thigh. He swats it away as you try to take his dick again. It’s so close to your face, you could suck it some more, make him groan, make him cum.

”Eyes up, baby girl,” he tells you and you obey, your lower lip caught between your teeth. ”Tell me again. What do you want me to do?”

”Fuck me.”

”Fuck you, what?”

”Sir.”

”Fuck your what?”

”Fuck my tight, wet pussy, sir,” you whimper. ”Please, I’m so wet for you, sir.”

Frankie unexpectedly pulls you up and you almost lose your balance and tumble into him but are only met by a punishing kiss when his tongue invades your mouth. You barely have time to kiss him back before he turns you around and bends you over the sink again. His movements are quick and precise as he pulls the top over your head and frees your breasts, and then pulls down your shorts and drenched through panties. He lifts one of your legs and hooks his arm around the bend of your knee before lining up his dick along the slickness of your pussy. With a forceful snap of his hips, he drives the whole of his length in, making you cry out. He starts to fuck you energetically and you notice that he keeps staring at your bouncing tits in the mirror, so you thrust your chest out and meet his gaze. His free arm snakes around your hips and his fingers find your clit, and a surge of intense pleasure cuts through you as he presses down on it.

“Let me hear it, baby girl,” he grunts in your ear and you moan loudly with each hard thrust into you. “Talk to me, be a good girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, bracing yourself against the edge of the sink. “You fuck me so good, sir, you make me feel so good!”

“That’s right,” he encourages you, “nobody but me can fuck you like this, sweet girl.”

“Nobody,” you wail as his fingers rub your clit with a relentless pressure and speed. “Nobody but you owns my pussy, baby, only you own that pussy.”

“Damn straight, and I’m going to fuck this pussy until I come all over it,” he huffs, his hold of your leg tightening. You close your eyes, giving in to the intense sensations and the sounds of skin slapping against skin, Frankie’s loud breathing, your own moans, the quickening between your legs. Frankie keeps slamming you against the edge of the countertop – your hips will have a bruise – and oh god, he hits you just right, so deep, so full, fuck it, you’re going to –

“Fucking look at me when I fuck you,” Frankie growls and you force your eyes open and meet his stare in the mirror. He’s the picture of determination as he stakes his claim, shows you who you belong to, as if you ever doubted it, as if you ever wanted to be anyone else’s but his. You forget yourself as you are pushed over the edge and start to fall free.

“I… Frankie, please, I’m gonna –“

“That’s it, baby, come on, come all over my cock,” Frankie groans as your pussy clenches in orgasm. He’s still rubbing your clit with two skilful fingers and thrusting deep and hard into your, not slowing down even when you start to shake with your orgasm. Loud moans escape your pursed lips and Frankie speeds up and growls as he shoots you full of cum. He curses in your ear and his fingers dig into the soft skin of your thigh, easing the build-up of a cramp. For a second, you fear you’ll lose your balance and both of you are going to fall and bang your heads on the tile floor, but Frankie’s arms are securing you and when he lets your leg down, he doesn’t let go of you until he knows you’re steady on your feet. You lean your elbows onto the counter, catching your breath and still shivering from the aftermath of the orgasm. Frankie slips out of you, leaving you feeling strangely empty, and you catch him in the mirror as he appreciated the creampie oozing out between your folds. You sway your hips teasingly and he meets your gaze in the mirror and pass his hand through his damp curls, smiling at you.

“Okay?” he asks, carefully pulling you up to stand and turning you around, greeting you with a long, sincere kiss. You wrap your arms around him and pull him in closer.

“As long as I’m yours, I’m okay,” you let him know. “I love you.”

“And I you.” Frankie kisses the tip of your nose and smiles. “And I did notice you’ve lost weight. I just didn’t want to say anything in case it was a touchy subject.”

“It’s not,” you assure him. “I just missed you so much when you were away, baby, I had to focus on something. Going to the gym seemed as good a thing as any.”

“Sorry my absence sent you to the fuckin’ gym,” Frankie murmurs, making you laugh. He’s not a fan of working out but is required to keep his body in some kind of shape. The day he finally retires will certainly be celebrated as the day he no longer has to work out for his job.

“Can I wear whatever I want now that you’ve established who I belong to?” you ask innocently. Frankie grins.

“I would never tell you what you can and cannot wear, you know that, baby.”

“Oh, so all of that claiming just now –“

“Was just an act, yes.”

“Gasp!” You feign dismay and clutch imaginary pearls at your clavicle. “Sir! I feel so used!”

Frankie grabs your ass cheeks and squeezes before lowering his lips to your neck for a teasing bite.

“Watch it so I don’t claim you all over again, baby girl.”

#my fic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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