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fiber-optic-alligator · 8 months

Note

Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.

It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?

It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.

I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!

Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D

Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders

Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader

Word Count: 3115

Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.

The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.

You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.

“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.

You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.

Shit. That’s not good.

Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.

The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”

“Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”

“Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”

“How long until repairs are complete?”

“Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”

Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?

Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.

“Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”

“Override. Open the doors.”

The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.

What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.

Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”

Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.

You hear thumping in the distance.

It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.

You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.

You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.

That’s when you hear the growling.

It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.

It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.

You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.

“It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.

The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?

The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…

It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.

Fucking shit, you think.

The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.

It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”

The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.

“A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.

“Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.

“Well, how long until they are online?!”

“Estimated time equals…ten hours.”

“That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.

A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.

You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.

You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.

Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.

“Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”

The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.

“What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.

“It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.

“This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”

“It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”

“The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”

“There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.

“A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”

“Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”

“Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.

“How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”

“It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”

“Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

A whimper is all he gains in reply.

Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”

“You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”

“I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”

“Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”

“Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”

The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.

Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.

Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.

“Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”

“You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.

“I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”

“You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”

“Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”

“I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”

First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.

He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”

“What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.

“Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”

First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”

“We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”

“Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”

“But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”

“The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”

Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”

Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.

“It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”

It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?

A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”

You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.

Never do you stray far from his mind.

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hana-no-seiiki · 6 months

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Ohh I got soooo many ideas, like CV reader got kidnapped by black mask (I think it's red hood nemesis, am not that deep in DC comics but I know the basics) so he could have a deal or take information out of red hood using CV reader. And when Jason found out about it he was pissed but when he got there the bad guys already down because CV reader took them down.

P.s I don't mind if you use this as a reference to make a headcanon or story on contrary i would love to read it, but it's up to you!!

🎧ྀི » [ what a catastrophy ! ] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

tw/cw: yandere, jason being horny/implied noncon, cat villain! reader being an absolute menace and a whore as always.

pairings: yan! batfam x cat villain/vigilante! reader

note: this happens after conflict between jason and other members of batfam are resolved and at that point cat villain! is more solidly on the cat vigilante! side

“How long is this going to take exactly? I’m about to take an involuntary cat nap with how utterly slow you all are being.”

The Court of Owls were a group of people you’ve absolutely despised on every era you’ve had under your cat mask. Whether it was your wild years as Cat Woman’s protégé or when you were basically assimilated as the Batfam’s shared s/o. You could never bring yourself to like absurdly rich people that well. Much less rich people who do bad things.

For legal and safety reasons, you have to say that the Batfamily are an exception.

You don’t know how on Earth they managed to get their hands on equipment that prevented your powers from working, but it was proving to be quite the annoying conundrum.

“I’m sorry but I’m feline a little too underwhelmed by this whole kidnapping thing. Why don’t we hurry things up a little?”

MEANWHILE . . .

“Where the hell did you take them?!”

Jason slammed Black Mask unto the wall, using the backside of his arm and pressing it against the man’s chest.

The latter’s men took a defensive, alert stance. Ready to pounce on command.

But Black Mask only gestured them to stand down.

“You have to understand, the fact that I even thought of informing you of my deal is a huge risk. I could lose my biggest benefactors.” He replied, calm and polite. In contrast to the harsh kick he deals to his assailant, making Jason back off. “I’m doing you all a favor. I’m doing [Cat Villain Name] a favor.”

“They’re currently on a private island to the south. I can’t give you the exact coordinates but here’s the general location.” He tossed a flashdrive, one swiftly caught and skimmed through by Tim.

“Why are you helping us?” Damian’s mind was already calculating the best way to get rid of everyone in this room. The grip on his katana tightening by the second. He had full faith that you were capable of taking care of yourself, but it did not help with the fear of disappearance whatsoever.

He was sure that the sight of you getting hurt would lead to him going on a rampage.

“Maybe the fact that even with my help, you kids being too late would open their mind and make them come back to our side. They’d finally learn that you’re only as good for them as Batman was to —“ Damian couldn’t stop himself anymore, knocking the man unconscious as the rest of the crew took down his goons with ease. Their worry over your current condition giving them a surprising amount of efficiency as a team.

“It’ll take several hours to even get to those islands much less even find which one . . .” Tim bit his lip. He wasn’t concerned at all. He knows you inside and out. In fact, he already knew where you were exactly. All of this info gathering was just his plan to delay things so that your patience would run out and he’d get front row seats to the carnage you’d inevitably cause. After all, there was something he can always predict when it came to you.

Your unending thirst for fun and chaos.

It took about a week for them to find you. Just about enough time for you to get antsy about not seeing your beloved pets and home.

And plenty of time for you to have your fun, pretending to be hurt, crying out in feigned agony, before you finally took down your prey.

“Red Hood! Come back! We can’t just barge in—“ Dick called out to Jason.

But all Jason could think of was the way you screamed in terror. The footage of your ‘torture’ was something he had nightmares about.

“Kitty! Are you—“ He kicked the door off its hinges, guns ready to fire.

But his sights only landed on a singular breathing being in the middle of a room. Covered in the blood of your victims. Grooming yourself clean.

Each lick sending shivers down his spine.

He sighed in relief. “You really have to stop playing with your food, Kitty.”

His lips envelopes yours as the world disappears from your vision.

୨ ©️ ୧⸝⸝﹕hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024﹐⊂☁️⊃ ‹𝟹

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calicoups · 9 months

Text

౨ৎ sweater — csc

synopsis when missing seungcheol turns into you wearing his sweater and socks. pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff word count 1.3k hani’s note cheol calls reader baby, sweetheart and doll. this idea literally just came into my brain because of me taking a sweater out of my wardrobe…inspo by this reel btw hehe!

his sweaters smell like him. like fresh laundry but also a strong masculine scent. it’s comforting, as if seungcheol is all around you. whenever seungcheol isn’t around, you wear his clothes — whether that be his silly looking socks with characters on them, his shirts or his sweaters — and in a sense, they’re grounding, warm and not to mention so cosy. which is why you lay in bed with his sweater. but now your feet are cold. so, you get out of bed for the top drawer, bracing yourself for the cold biting at your feet and face. at the sight of a folded pair of shark print crew socks (seungcheol’s favourite), you jump back in bed and pull the socks on.

a cold draft sneaks in from somewhere and into the bedroom where you’re laying. every few minutes, you’re wiggling around in the blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in, trying to gain as much heat as possible. that draft is beginning to provoke agitation in you and you wonder if you even closed all the windows.

there is no way you’re going to get up (again) to check in this cold, though. you had switched the radiators on, surely you’ve closed all windows and you had closed the doors to rooms that weren’t in use. this was all in an attempt to keep the heat in because you were starting to freeze.

the clock reads 10:18 PM, seungcheol isn’t home yet. he had shouted a quick ‘don’t wait up, sweetheart!’ before he had left in the morning and yes, you weren’t going to wait for him at first but god, you miss him so bad right now. you don’t think you could fall asleep without seeing him first.

reaching out of the blanket for the remote, you decide that the best thing to pass the time with is to watch something. so, you switch on the tv and flick through before settling on whatever seems interesting enough to hold your attention until seungcheol arrives home.

multiple yawns had left your mouth by 11:06 PM, seungcheol was still not home. you begin to doze off after a few minutes, eyes fluttering closed every few seconds before you open them wide and squeeze them to stay awake.

a key turns in the lock, it reaches your ears and has you alert. seungcheol’s keys jangle and you know that the jangling sound is the little batgirl keychain colliding with the wall as seungcheol plugs the guitar key into the wall mounted key holder (your keys held a batman keychain — seungcheol had bought these for you both, opting to have each other’s characters).

as seungcheol sets his coat in the closet near the front door and his shoes on the wooden shoe rack, he turns around and almost goes to slump onto the couch when he catches you staring at him through the open bedroom door.

seungcheol tilts his head a little and smiles at you, “i thought i had told you not to wait up, sweetheart.”

“i know but i wanted to wait for you.” you watch as he walks out of eyesight and hear the tap run, a glass filling up with water. seungcheol walks into the room as he takes a sip from the glass and then takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to you, the glass hanging from his fingertips where his forearm rested on his thigh.

“you missed me? oh, my baby,” he coos and lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a quick peck. he gulps down another sip of water and there is half left which he gestures for you to drink the rest, “all this waiting for me and i bet you haven’t even hydrated yourself, silly girl.”

you shake your head as the water runs down your throat, “not true, i am so hydrated!”

“really?” seungcheol’s lips twitch, trying not to smile as he notices your dry lips. his hand holds your jaw and his thumb is on your bottom lip, “why are your lips chapped, then?”

at this, your tongue darts out to lick at your lips, “what do you mean?”

seungcheol shakes his head, he reaches for the vanity table drawer and takes out a lip balm. its cherry flavoured, his favourite. you set down the glass on the bedside table.

his hand tilts your chin and applies the lip balm to your lips and oh, that concentrated look on his beautiful face. lips parted, eyes shining and focused on your lips, trying so hard to not get the balm anywhere other than your lips.

and when he’s done, he asks you to rub your lips to together so that the balm is spread evenly. he watches you intently as you follow his instructions.

seungcheol carefully moves your head around (at this point, you’re just letting him do whatever, it’s endearing to watch him do things like this) to check that the balm hadn’t smudged anywhere else then he lets go, “there, all done! now, make sure you drink a lot of water if you don’t want chapped lips, okay?”

you nod your head slowly as a response and he gets up to put the lip balm away. seungcheol turns around and squints at you, “are you wearing my sweater?”

“huh? yeah, it was getting cold and also, i missed you,” you explain, “wearing your socks too!”

he looks at the end of the bed where you stick out your feet from the blanket, “you can have all of my sweaters and socks if you look that adorable in them, doll.”

the nickname makes your heart skip a beat. doll. it sounds lovely coming from his pretty lips.

seungcheol smiles and you reach for his hands which he gives. you tug with all the strength you have to quickly press your lips to seungcheol’s, pulling back with an audible ‘mwah’ and you make sure that the lip balm he applied had transferred to his lips too.

seungcheol’s dimples form on both cheeks as he laughs with his gummy smile. full cheeks become rosy and seungcheol shrinks a little in his place. every time you pull your little ‘mwah’ trick, seungcheol gets so shy and you love it. you adore his shyness.

“you’re so silly,” seungcheol ruffles your hair, “i’ll go get changed, be right back,” he pinches your cheek and leaves the room.

when seungcheol re-enters the room, you immediately raise a corner of the blanket to invite him over. he climbs onto the bed, except not next to you. seungcheol hovers over you then lowers himself down onto your chest, his legs between yours and his arms going under yours to hug you.

your heart melts at the sight of his head on your chest, being able to feel his chest rising and falling against your own and his hair tickling the base of your neck which you run your hand through, giving him a slight massage. reaching for the blanket you threw to the side, you pull it over both your bodies to stay warm.

“good day at work, cherry?”

seungcheol’s chest vibrates as he hums, “yeah, and jeonghan dragged me to dinner and he paid, can you believe that? i mean, he always ‘forgets’ his wallet at home!”

seungcheol’s after work stories never fail to make you giggle. it’s the way he tells them with big eyes and even acts them out sometimes.

after the laughter stops from both of you, seungcheol speaks up again, “but i’m tired after that. i would have been home earlier to cuddle with you but jeonghan…” he laughs again, “he wouldn’t let me go! now, i just wanna lay like this with you.”

“yeah? i got you, i’m right here,” you rub his back under the blanket and seungcheol moves his head to kiss your collarbone.

a few minutes later, you’re positive that seungcheol has fallen asleep with the way he becomes heavier and heavier the deeper he sleeps — you feel like your hugging an actual bear — so you give him a quick kiss to his forehead and hold him closer to you before dozing off just after him.

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a-killer-obsession · 2 months

Note

Hello!! I'd absolutely love to see an AFAB Z Reader with a little bit of P! As for that character, I think I'd have to choose the wonderful number 4. Thank you!

sorry everyone for the long gap between event fics, i promise i'm still working on them!

Milk

Prompt: Mink Reader + Pollen Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, light somnophilia, masturbation, face fucking, forced orgasm, breeding kink, oral (receiving and giving), p in v sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare WC: 3.8

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

The island the Victoria Punk was anchored at was supposed to be uninhabited, and as such only a small team had disembarked to scout it out. It was supposed to be uneventful, but you'd stayed back from the scouting team anyway. As the doctor on the ship it wasn't a good idea to put you in any sort of harm's way, especially since you weren't much of a fighter. As a cow mink you were heavy set and slow, on the chubbier side, thought you had a lot of muscle underneath it. You could body a punch, and certainly reply with your own, but you weren't agile or well seasoned like the others. You had a good sense of smell and hearing which helped you stay out of fights, but usually if it came down to it you knew you could rely on the boys to keep you safe, just like they could always rely on you to patch them up.

The scouting team had the job of checking the island was safe from any sort of large dangerous predators before the crew could make use of harvesting any natural resources, so you were waiting patiently along with most of the crew, reading a book as you lounged with Killer on the skull deck, using each other's backs to prop each other up. Your ear twitched as it picked up movement, head perking up at the same time as Killer's haki alerted him to the incoming scouting party. Killer had been facing the island, and you held his shoulders steady so he wouldn't fall backwards as you took away his back rest, turning yourself to peer over his shoulder. The two of you watch with rising alarm as the scouting party breaks from the treeline, Heat running at the front of the group with Wire draped over his shoulder. Both of you are on your feet immediately, Killer rushing to help Heat on board while you run to prepare the infirmary for their arrival.

Your rubber gloves are on as Killer opens the door for Heat, Wire immediately deposited carefully on the closest bed, unconscious and dripping with sweat, his face flushed with fever. You touch the back of your hand to his forehead and immediately recoil at how hot his skin is, quickly setting about getting an IV line of fluids set up to account for the water he was losing through sweat.

“What happened?” You ask Heat as you work, your voice dependable and steady despite everyone else’s panic. Killer had shooed the rest of the crew out of the tight space, Kid appearing past the crowd at the commotion and furrowing his brows as he finds one of his commanders and long time friends unconscious and suffering some unknown ailment.

“It was some sort of flower,” Heat explained, “it came out of nowhere, swung down and smacked him right in the face like it was sentient. There was a puff of pollen or something and he went down”

“Must have been some sort of defense mechanism,” Killer noted, “Heat, tell the others to keep off the island”

“We'll set sail as soon as the pose resets,” Kid added, “have the ship ready to move as soon as it's ready, Wire said it'd take less than a day. I want away from this fucked up island”

“Roger that, Boss,” Heat replied, giving Wire one last forlorn look before leaving to pass along the orders, despite very much not wanting to leave his best friend’s side right now.

“How is he?” Kid asked you, he and Killer now standing on the other side of the cot from you as you worked, checking Wire's vitals and making hasty notes on a clipboard.

“He has a nasty fever,” you replied, “but there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong, no rashes or hives that might indicate this was an allergic reaction, his airway seems clear, he seems mostly fine. Whatever that pollen was has just caused a fever but I won't know the full extent of the damage till he wakes up. For now I think we just need to let him rest and hope the fever breaks soon”

And so let him rest they did. Kid carried Wire back to his own room where you felt he would be more comfortable, and you stayed at his side, dabbing his forehead with wet cloths and rechecking his vitals hourly. While he didn't seem to be getting any better or worse, at some point he started groaning in his sleep, followed by you noticing a visible tent in his leather shorts. That got you concerned, you had heard of flowers that released powerful aphrodisiacs for the purposes of increasing population numbers, but you'd never encountered them yourself. The symptoms matched what you'd heard though, so with that in mind you instructed the others to stay away from his room, under the guise of him being possibly contagious, but really just not wanting Wire to be seen in such a vulnerable state. It was fine for you, you were his doctor, it was all just natural processes, but you had a feeling he wouldn't want his friends seeing him pitching a (very large) tent in his sleep.

That brought up another problem though: what happened when he woke up? You wouldn't deny you had an attraction to Wire, but would it be taking advantage of him to offer yourself up to alleviate his symptoms? You were a doctor after all, it was all for the good of his health, right? Unsure of where you stood on that moral dilemma, you settled yourself into an armchair in the corner of Wire's room to rest, mulling over the pros and cons while you eyed his sweating body as he groaned and clawed at the sheets in his sleep. Perhaps it wouldn't even come to that, after all; Wire was a large man, and the pollen was likely designed for generic wild animals much smaller than him, perhaps the effects would wear off before he even woke up. Mind swimming with questions, you didn't even notice as you started to nod off, falling asleep in the armchair to the sound of Wire's heavy breathing.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The heavy breathing was much closer when you woke up, ears twitching at the panting in front of you and nose catching the scent of masculine musk and precum not far from your face. Your eyes fluttered open, drowsy from your impromptu nap, immediately going wide as you took in the sight before you. Wire was entirely naked, dark tan skin glistening with sweat as he fisted himself furiously right in front of you. He hadn't noticed you waking yet, concentrating too hard on your chest, which you realised was mostly exposed, your shirt having been unbuttoned halfway in your sleep revealing your lace trimmed bra and ample cleavage. You should have felt violated by the situation, any sane woman would, but instead you found yourself rubbing your thighs together in need, unbearably turned on by the tall man taking advantage of you in your vulnerable sleeping state. You were well aware how fucked up that was, but you couldn’t help get horny at it, somnophilia was certainly a kink you indulged in. You looked up at him and watched his expression change to fear as he noticed you were awake, but he never stopped pumping his impressive cock, one of his hands resting on the back of your chair as he loomed over you.

“I- I can't stop- I'm sorry,” he groaned, risking coming closer now that he was already caught, resting a knee on one of the arms of the chair. His cock was so very close to your face, so you did the only logical thing you could think of; you opened your mouth and lolled out your long, rough tongue, using your hands to free your tits from your bra and holding them together, inviting him to cum on you. He made a confused whimper at the action, having expected backlash, and eyed your breasts hungrily, seeing now your pretty pink nipples and the full curve of your massive tits.

“Well?” You purred, “are you going to give me your milk or not?”

That finally set him over the edge, pushing his cock into your offered mouth and grabbing your short horns, setting a brutal pace as he fucked your face. You were glad for your long snout, allowing you to take far more of him than a human could before his impressive length hit the back of your throat. You also had barely any gag reflex thanks to your mink anatomy, so you had no issue with his rough treatment of your mouth, arousal pooling between your legs as he used you. You were used to being used roughly like this, no vanilla man ever slept with a mink, only those with kinks that you’d found yourself enjoying more and more as you experimented with humans. You were well aware of the strange appeal you held for some humans, with your animal-like face, long tongue, ample tits that alluded to an udder, and your cute tail that usually sprouted from under your skirt, lifting the hem oh so slightly. They were charms you took full advantage of; despite your sweet, innocent, bovine face you knew you loved it when men used you, and you knew you loved taking control as well, usually being much stronger and heavier than your lovers.

It didn't take long before you heard Wire groan and felt hot, thick liquid sliding down your throat, but this time it was your turn to be in control. He tried to pull his cock from your mouth (notably still hard, though you would have refused to let him go regardless) but you sunk your hands into the flesh of his ass, holding him still, your wide nose pressed against his pubic hair as you looked up at him with mischievous eyes. Men who came to you for sex often made references to milk, so naturally the act of milking a man had become something you had come to love, dominating your lovers regularly, enthralled by the act of forcing humans to give you their seed against your mink instincts to only breed with your own kind. You adored overstimulating your lovers, you loved to watch them squirm, hearing them beg for mercy only to force another orgasm from them, it was your favourite. And with the pollen not letting him settle, it was all the sweeter. He tried to pull your head away but you were an immovable object, relishing his overstimulated whines as you lolled out your long tongue and let it flick against his balls while you literally suckled on his cock. His hands went from trying to pull you off to holding you against him, letting out a string of curses as you groped his ass and sucked the life out of him, forcing another orgasm from him. Not till you had every last drop of his cum did you let him go with a pop, licking your lips and giving him an innocent look as he panted and held your horns for support.

“M-more,” he groaned, almost doubling over on himself as you started to pump his still swollen cock. You wondered how many times he would have to finish before the pollen would clear from his system, how many times could he breed you before it was done with him? The thought made your thighs rub together. Naughty mink, breeding with a human, you thought to yourself, a thought that often got you hot and bothered. You wanted him to breed you, you wanted him to pump you full of cum till it had nowhere to go and dripped from your abused cunt.

His head tilted and his eyes fluttered closed, nose moving like he was taking in a scent in the air, a shiver running through him as he smelt your arousal. You wondered to what extent the pollen truly affected him, were his senses elevated too? Or only in ways that allowed him to find a mate? You didn't have much time to think on it before he was on his knees, having to bend considerably to account for his height so he could lick and suck at your thighs, pulling your knees up and pushing them to rest over the arms of the chair as he blindly sought out the source of the sweet alluring smell. He pushed up your skirt and pressed his nose right against your damp panties, butting against your clit and making you moan, as he let out his own groans at your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Want you-” was all he could manage to get out as his hands ran along your thighs and pulled at your panties, “want, want-” It was like his mind had been turned to mush, all he could think about of vocalise were basic needs, and right now he needed to taste you, it was all he could think about.

He tore the fabric from your body and you both moaned as his tongue made contact, licking long stripes up your cunt, not with the aim of pleasuring you but with the aim of tasting you, gathering your slick on his tongue and drinking it down like he needed it to live. Each swipe grazed over your clit and made you jolt, your hand burying in his short hair as he lapped at you, growing annoyed as your honey was replaced with his saliva. “More!” He growled, bullying his tongue inside you to get to the source, making a satisfied hum as he did so, deaf to your pleasured moans as he drank from you. He wasn’t actively trying to make you feel good, only selfishly trying to gather all your essence, but his ministrations and groans against your sensitive flesh felt so fucking good, and soon you were pulling on his short hair and riding out your high against his face, his tongue working overtime to gather every drop that gushed from you.

His eyes were practically black as he looked up at you, unnaturally blown wide by the pollen, his need for you insatiable but at least his thirst for your honey had been quenched. His tongue ran up your body, rolling over your soft tummy and leaving a wet trail of saliva behind as he travelled to your breasts, yanking your bra down further and sucking one tit into his mouth as his large hand groped the other. He suckled at the nipple and made a disappointed whine. “What, did you expect there to be milk? Because I’m a cow mink?” you huffed, pulling his hair hard to remove him from your breast. He gave you a look that was entirely unapologetic. It wasn’t the first time a man had expected you to be lactating, it was a little offensive to be honest. “Only cows that have calved have milk, dumbass. You ever seen me running around with a baby on my arm? Tsk”

“I’ll have to put a calf in you then,” he decided, his sultry voice making your pussy clench around nothing as he raised himself higher, his face now a hair’s width away from yours. His eyes ran down your entire body, your hair messy, your cheek wet with tears from deepthroating, your clothes pulled out of place to expose your breasts and pussy, your legs still hooked over the arms of the chair to spread you wide for him. His index finger played with your pussy, pushing your slick and his saliva around before the digit slid inside you, followed by a second. He watched you closely as he began to pump your cunt slowly, expecting you to start moaning, but you only huffed in annoyance at him, which made him raise a brow.

“You gonna breed me or what then, Wire?” you asked him, and his dick throbbed at the thought. Quickly he removed his fingers from you, pumping his cock a few times to spread your slick over his member before lining the fat head up with your entrance. You were ill prepared for his girth, but you were the one who asked for it. You both groaned in unison as he sunk inside you, stretching you wide as you clawed at his back. Your tongue came out to lick at his lips, and he sucked it into his mouth, your long appendage filling it. He could feel it at the back of his throat as your tongue explored, making his eyes roll back as he began a vicious pace with the intent of pumping you full of as much cum as possible.

“Ah, just like that, fuck,” you whined, enjoying the way his massive cock filled you so well, pulling against every inch of your inner walls, rubbing right where you wanted him without even trying. “Put a fucking baby in me, Wire, fuck me till I’m fat with your calf”

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, “I’ll give you what you want sweet heifer, I’ll make you a mother”

His mind was heavy with lust and his judgement cloudy from the pollen as he fucked you hard and fast. He came quickly at the feeling of your hot wet walls around him, but he didn’t stop for even a moment, the pollen not letting him. The overstimulation was driving him insane, your walls clenching around him as you cooed your praises and begged him to fuck a baby into you, gushing over his cock once, twice, a third time, his pace never once letting up. Sweat dripped from his body and made you sticky, your own sweat soaking the bunched up clothes around your waist, your tits and tummy bouncing with every hard thrust he gave you. Your cunt was milking him for everything he had, Wire groaning against your shoulder as he came again, the pollen still not letting go of the tight hold it had on him. It was starting to hurt, his cock throbbed painfully from the insistent erection. Including before you’d woken, he’d cum a total of five times, and the blood still refused to drain from his cock. Groans turned to pained moans as he struggled to find the energy to keep up with his body’s needs, pistoning into you desperately. You saw the pained look in his eyes, and realised something wasn’t right.

“Wire, shh, it’s okay baby,” you cooed, “you want me to take over?”

He whined and nodded in defeat, using the last of his strength to carry you both to the bed, his hips still moving on their own accord like he truly couldn’t stop as he laid himself down with you on top of him. You stroked his face soothingly and made hushed assurances as you took over the movements, riding him hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips. He shamelessly watched and enjoyed the way your tits bounced, reaching up to grope at them and letting out strings of curses as you purposely clamped down around his cock, trying to spur on his orgasm. It was no longer about getting yourself off, you recognised that he was hurting and he needed this to be over, so you were doing everything you could to get him to finish in the hopes the pollen would finally let go of him, otherwise you might have to consider medical intervention. His body wasn’t going to be able to handle much more, he’d already lost so much sweat and fluids, and his cock felt raw from overuse, he needed this to be over.

“Come on baby, give it to me,” you purred, hoping dirty words would put him over the edge, “give me all your cum so I can get fat with your calf and you can milk my tits whenever you want”

“Ah~ hurts- hurts-” Wire cried, treating your tits like stress balls as he tried and failed to let himself go. “Can’t- gotta cum- can’t-”

“It’s okay Wire, let go,” you cooed, tweaking his nipples to try and give him extra stimulation.

“Hmmph-” he groaned as you tugged on his pert buds, his hands coming down to grab your waist as he suddenly began to piston up into you, “fuck fuck fuck, just like that, just like that”

“Cum for me Wire,” you moaned, “breed me, hnng, gonna cum too”

“Yes, yes, cum for me,” he growled, using a thumb to rub your clit furiously and groaning as he ripped another orgasm from you, your release dripping over his abdomen, surprising you that you even had anything left to give. “Ah, good girl, good girl,” he groaned, “so tight, so good, cumming, fuck, cumming”

He held you down by your hips so your cunt was flush with his front, his cock balls deep inside you and stretching you out as he whined and creamed once more, cum spilling out from where you were connected as his body shook underneath you. “There you go baby, there you go,” you purred, Wire’s entire body going slack as he let go, panting hard as he laid against the bed. You pulled off his finally softening cock slowly, the movement making him whine in pain. His cock was red and sore, and you felt so sorry for him. Sure, it’d been fun, and you were more than satisfied, but at what cost? You carefully pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, Wire looking at you through a half-lidded, confused gaze as you checked his temperature and found that his fever had finally broken.

You winced as you slid off the bed, trying your best to right your clothes so you could pour him some water and bring the cup to him. He noticed your slight limp and looked unbelievably guilty as you helped him sit up so you could guide him to drink. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, holding your wrist carefully in his long fingers.

“You’re just big, sweetheart,” you cooed, “i’ll be okay, are you feeling alright though? The pollen did quite the number on you”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry”

“Its okay Wire, really,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, tracing the pointed sideburn, “you needed help, I was more than happy to provide it”

Finally convinced that it was okay, he let you guide the glass to his mouth and allow him to drink, emptying the glass eagerly before you helped him lay back down. You took one of the damp cloths you’d been easing his fever with and cleaned him carefully, finding him already asleep by the time you finished. You cleaned yourself up next, stripping off your dirtied clothes and climbing into the bed beside him. He stirred for only a moment to wrap his arms around you, before you fell to exhaustion as well, tucked into his chest as he held you protectively.

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #AKO 250 event #wire x reader #wire one piece

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eldritch-bf · 4 months

Text

Danbert in The Thing (1982) expanded thoughts:

The two of them spend the winter down at outpost 31 during their final year of medical school for a work for credits situation under the guidance of Dr’s Blair and Copper.

Herbert, watching MacReady lose to the computer in chess from across the room. “I could take him.” Dan, looking up from his book. “In chess, right?”

Herbert gets up and does challenge MacReady to a game of chess however they get interrupted by the commotion of the Norwegian helicopter.

Dan primarily studies under Dr Copper (the physician who insists on going to the Norwegian camp to help them despite the weather risk) and brings Dan along with him to investigate the camp with MacReady.

Herbert primarily studies under Dr Blair (biologist who performs the autopsy on what they bring back from the Norwegian camp)

Herbert is initially disinterested in the other camp and advises against Dan going because he assumed they had all just experienced psychotic breaks and they might be dangerous. Dan and Dr Copper ignore him.

Dan and Herbert are however immediately aware that something is NOT right with the Thing Dog because unlike every other animal including the other sled dogs, this “animal” shows Herbert indifference. Though they have no idea why.

Herbert assists with the autopsy of the burnt humanoid brought back from the Norwegian camp and can barely contain his curiosity and excitement. Later Herbert wakes Dan up in the middle of the night and drags him to the autopsy room and makes him study the cells and the interactions with the reagent. Dan is very tired and wants to sleep.

The Dog Thing absorbing the other dogs scene takes place and Herbert again helps with that autopsy and MacReady notices how much of a little weirdo he is, and afterwards confronts Dan about it, asking him if he thinks Herbert is dangerous or can even be trusted. Dan hesitated and poorly explains away Herbert’s behavior. MacReady doesn’t trust either of them.

More late night science, though now MacReady is Suspicious.

Herbert really really wants to see if the reagent can reanimate the dead Things but Dan scienceblocks to the best of his ability

MacReady notices them in the lab and witnesses a tender moment between them and concludes more or less correctly that that’s the origin of their strange behavior (though it’s also because Herbert is still keeping the reagent a secret).

Blair runs the computer simulation, to which Herbert is a witness to, and finally becomes concerned about the Thing, primarily because he doesn’t want to die down there. Subplot is that Herbert is frustrated no one listens to him because he’s just a kid compared to the rest of them. (MacReady particularly loves calling both of them “kid”) And so he highly doubts these dumb ass men can keep them safe.

Herbert tests a few Thing cells under a microscope with the reagent and it does indeed work just as normal. Dan points out that this doesn’t actually help them in any meaningful way except for satisfying Herbert’s curiosity to which Herbert basically says “that’s the whole point” and Dan gets so frustrated he storms out, leaving Herbert alone, which makes Herbert, still slightly paranoid that at least one member of the crew is the thing, to follow along with Dan, apologize, and insist on staying together every moment possible.

Blair has his breakdown, destroying the vehicles and radio equipment to prevent escape, Herbert is nearly killed as a result, similar to Palmer, before running and alerting everyone. The station crew then lock Blair in the shed.

Dr Copper is killed while trying to save “Norris” from his heart attack, leaving Dan and Herbert the best physicians and biologists available to them. Herbert agrees with MacReady’s idea to use the hot needle on the blood. No one really trusts Herbert or MacReady at this point which makes Childs even more convinced the test is horseshit and that Herbert and or MacReady are clearly the thing and Dan defends Herbert by saying “no he’s always like this trust me”

They all pass except Palmer who famously fails the test, infects Windows, and MacReady incinerates them while Herbert drags Dan out of the room and decides they need to get out before this thing kills every last one of them.

Dan and Herbert stay behind with Childs, packing up and arming themselves just in case, while the others go to test Blair.

Dan questions how they’ll escape since Blair destroyed the equipment and after some discussion away from Childs, the two of them correctly anticipate that the Thing will likely sabotage the power on the station in order to hinder the team from finding it (they don’t know about the spaceship it’s constructed yet)

Dan and Herbert head off to the power generator and wait for the Blair-Thing which quickly shows up and they manage to kill it without destroying the station, leaving Cain, West, MacReady, Childs, Nauls, and Garry alive.

Herbert and MacReady finally have their game of chess though it ends in a stalemate to which Herbert poorly hides his irritation and MacReady reveals he knew all about him and Dan yet at the same time he does compliment Herbert for helping save them. The six of them wait out the rest of winter until rescue comes.

#reanimator #daniel cain #herbert west #god if only I had the energy to write this as a long fic #I’d get like a third of the way and then abandon it which would suck #re animator #danbert

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

high tide ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: Due to Taehyung's job as a cruise ship Captain, you are constantly miles away from each other. Weekly phonecalls help and this one gets a little nasty and a lot sweet.

Pairing: cruise ship captain!taehyung x fem!reader (feat. Yeontan)

AU/genre: PWP, fluff, smut, tiny angst, established relationship, aged-up, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: dom!taehyung, slight brat!reader, phone s*x, f*ngering, handj*b, mutual m*sturbation, taehyung calls oc sl*t once, some d*rty talk, mentions of v*berator, crying, missing each other, + taehyung has a special suprise for oc vv sweet

Now Playing: Beautiful, Versace on the Floor, Photograph…

A/N: wrote this on a whim after I saw Taehyung in that white captian outfit. Took a slightly different direction than planned but i like it. Hope you do too! 💞

“Two more days baby,” he says through the phone, loosening the tie from around his neck. “Then I’ll be home.”

“I miss you.” You nearly whine the words but who could blame you? Taehyung’s been at sea for 10 weeks straight. You’ve been calling as much as you can but they’re never as long as you’d like. Between the ship, the crew, and countless other responsibilities to keep track of, plus sleeping when he can–which never amounted to more than six hours a night, your boyfriend had a tight schedule.

Of course, he wouldn’t be able to talk to you for more than fifteen minutes a few nights a week.

You expected it.

“Someone wants to say hi.” You glance beside you, and a pair of beady dark eyes stare up at you. You’re boyfriend’s dog rests his head on your lap. “Say hi to daddy Yeontan.” You hold your phone near him.

“Yeontan,” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles. “Yeontan, are you behaving for mommy?” Yeontan quirks his head, unsure of the sudden noise. “Yeontan,” he tries again, this time making light kissing sounds.

At that, Yeontan lets out a yip, then another. You roll your eyes hearing Taehyung chuckle. “Good boy.”

Yeontan lets another yip and sits up on high alert. You bring a hand down to stroke his fur, calming him before you bring the phone up to your ear. “I think you got him too excited. He thinks you’re coming back tonight.”

“Well, you did use the D word.” Taehyung plays with the small box next to him. The sharp flipping and snapping of the lid cracks through the speaker.

“What are you doing?” You’re unable to ignore the sound. It’s harsh on your ear. “Are you doing something?”

Taehyung sets the box down instantly. You hear it squeak against a glass surface. “Sorry,” he coos. “It’s just an empty box that held cufflinks the crew surprised me with the other day. Messing around with it has become a habit I’ve developed recently.”

You hum. “Like a fidget spinner?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies. He smiles at the dainty box. “Something like that.”

“Oh, well that was nice of them to get you. Though I’m not shocked. You’ve been taking good care of them over the last seven years.”

Taehyung hears your words but falls silent. He whips his head towards his nightstand, viewing the photo of him and you in a burgundy-red picture frame. It was a gorgeous day out. Taehyung had just gotten promoted to captain and you were right by his side, arms around his waist with that knock-out smile he loves so much.

You’ve been together for eight years now and eight magnificent years they’ve been. Fancy dinners, late-night movies, going to the jazz, along with a handful of quarrels soon followed by make-up sex–you’ve done it all. And while neither of you could fathom being without the other, eight years have quickly turned into eight minutes with the amount of time the seas called him.

He hasn’t told you but every time he boarded the ship, watching your form get smaller and smaller, he felt gut-wrenching guilt settle in the pit of his stomach.

Taehyung didn’t want you waiting and yet he knew you were. Every ten weeks, he’d go to sea and then return for ten weeks. The worst part was that even when he was home, it was like a countdown until the process repeated itself.

Yes, you were constantly in limbo, waiting for the next step.

He hated it.

“Hey are you still with me?” It’s your stark voice that shakes Taehyung back into the conversation. He blinks away from the framed photo, clutching his phone.

“I’m still here,” he replies. “Listen __, I want you to know that in a couple of days, I’ll have something for you…to make up for all our lost time.”

“Hmm, is that so…” Your voice lowers, a sultry undertone with it. “Can I know what it is, Captain?”

Taehyung clears his throat thickly, palms feeling a tad sweaty and pants tight. “No, no you can’t,” he murmurs. “You’ll find out when you’re supposed to.”

“Two days is too long. Tell me now and maybe I’ll give you something in return unless you wanna risk it.”

Taehyung smirks, aware of your taunting. “Stick your fingers anywhere near your sopping cunt and that’s all you’ll be getting for a week.”

“Being that it’s the only thing I have gotten for the last ten weeks, fine by me,” you counter. “Oh, except for that pretty pink vibrator I got the other day. Does wonders for the female body.”

“Fucking brat.” Taehyung grips his thigh, struggling to repulse images of your sprawled-out body on your shared bed, broken moans leaving your lips. He hasn’t touched your soft skin or felt the burn of your fingers on his skull for weeks.

Somehow you’ve been perfectly satisfied though, which isn’t necessarily a huge problem due to his absence, but he’d rather not be reminded. Especially when it’s coming from a toy that likely couldn’t make you scream as loud as he could. “When I get home, that damn vibrator is the first to go. So enjoy yourself for a couple more days because it isn’t going to last.“

“Uh huh, uh huh.” You feign disinterest. “Same threats as usual. The sea has made you so dull and boring.”

“Yeah, think so? Well go ahead then slut. Make yourself come any way you’d like right now.” Taehyung waits for you to own up to your shit but you hesitate. “What’s the matter? Wanna take it all back?”

“Taehyung…I was just–”

“Uh uh,” he interrupts. “It’s far too late for any of that. You made a statement and you made me horny. So you know what we’re gonna do?” He reaches down his pants, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist. The sound of metal clangs against each other, before you hear a zipper gliding down.

“I swear Taehyung, if you make me listen to you jerk off right now I’m hanging up and not calling back.”

“Oh and I believe you so much,” he snickers, pushing his pants down enough to take his erect cock in hand. Taehyung has a massive cock so the push was generous, let’s say. “I think you want me to get off for you don’t you?”

His deep, thick voice rings through your entire body. Arousal slowly pooling between your thighs. It’s been a good six weeks since you and Taehyung last did anything like this. He’d either have to go to bed or your phone call would typically cut out before you got the chance.

Taehyung spits on his hands before taking his length in his palm. “Answer me,” he says but you’re too preoccupied with picturing his beautifully sleek fingers gripping his big, hard cock so tight it makes you drool. All you reply with is a weak ‘uh’.

His groans are hot and rough as he starts a steady pace. You ask if he’ll turn his camera on and make this a video call instead but he only laughs wickedly in response. “You think this is for you sweetheart? For your pleasure?” His breaths quicken, cock leaking precum you bet. If only you could be there. “Well it’s not,” he quips with a broken grunt.

“Please, Tae.” You lean your head back on the headboard, closing your eyes. A hand slips up your bare thigh and slips under your shirt to settle on your abdomen.

“Oh god–fuck!” Taehyung cusses loudly and your knuckles tense. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he curses again. When you draw the same hand down your core and straight to your wet center, you let out a satisfied moan. Taehyung doesn’t miss it, however.

“No, no–no, I don’t want,” he struggles to form the simple words, not stopping his ruthless movements. “Shit–“

You bite your lip and stuff two fingers inside, curling them as far as you can. It shoots spikes of pleasure up your spine and your hips buck up in response. “Taehyung, I wish I could see you. I wish I could be there.” Wetness pricks the corner of your eyes as you push into yourself and thumb your clit. Your thoughts are consumed by your boyfriend doing nearly the exact same hundreds of miles away. “I miss you so much Tae,” you gasp.

Taehyungs sweating bullets. His hair has gotten messy, a few strands stick to his forehead. He’s inches away from his high and he’s so pissed that you’re touching yourself when this was supposed to be him punishing you or some shit but he can’t stop either of you from continuing.

“God I miss you too baby. I miss seeing your gorgeous face and making you laugh. Your laugh is so goddamn pretty. I miss waking up beside you, my arms wrapped around you as I think to myself how lucky I am to have you with me for so long. And I really fucking wish it was your hands getting me off instead of my own. I’m so sorry I’m away so much and for so long.”

“Don’t apolo–apologize.” You add another finger, hot liquid coating them and already running down your thighs. “I understand your job is important to you. We’ll see each other soon and I’ll have you back to myself.”

“No, baby listen to me. Was gonna tell you in person but I’m stepping down. Fuck I’m there!” Taehyung releases on himself, his cum dripping down the length of his cock.

"What?" Pleasure washes over you as you release soon after, hands sticky and out of breath. "You're doing what?"

"Jimin's gonna be the new captain sweetheart. I can't keep going away every two to three months. I'm gone for half the year and I just cant keep doing it. I'll get a job closer to home somewhere. I just wanna be with you. I wanna..." Taehyung pauses. "__, I wanted this to be all romantic and grand but I don't think I can wait. That box I told you that were cufflinks the crew gave me? I lied. It's a ring. I bought it in Toulouse, France for you because I wanna stay with you as long as possible—"

"Oh my God oh my god Taehyung...." More tears cover your cheeks. You didn't think the day would come.

"Eight years is long enough isn't it? What do you say?" Taehyung's voice is shaky. He glances at the tiny box again, the one with your ring it. He doesnt reach for it because, well you know. But he can't wait to put it on your finger if you say what he hopes you will.

"Mhm, yes yes I'll marry you! Fuck you make me so happy." You really, really can't wait to see Taehyung in two days—he's your fiancee now.

"You dont know how happy you make me __. And when I see you in two day, I'm doing this again just so you know. The way I planned."

You smile through the phone, overwhelmed with emotions. "You don't have to. This was more than enough. And you don't have to quit being a captain really, its what you've wanted for so long."

"I want something different now," Taehyung says. "We deserve this __. Something new and not from miles away where we only communicate over the phone. Plus, now that you're my fiancee....soon bride and all—"

"Okay slow down tiger," you drawl, sneaky suspicion in your tone. "No babies for the first year or two, at least."

Taehyung fakes a loud sigh. "If my fiancee insists. No TaeTae juniors, yet."

"Hey! They'll also be mine, thank you very much!" You pound the bed with your fist. Taehyung laughs wholeheartedly.

"Okay, ours," he replies. "By the way, thank you for tonight. It was really hot, you were really hot."

"Back at you, Captain."

You giggle to yourself, thoughts wandering— you're getting married. Who are you telling first? The wedding planner duh!

A/N: uhm idk why but writing this couple gave me different feelings than usual...anyway Lmk your thoughts otherwise thanks for reading lovlies 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagines #fic:hightide #kookslastbutton

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mathanlin · 1 year

Text

Alien AU where alien!Tommy works with a team of humans.

They’re… strange. He can’t tell what their mannerisms mean. If he’s annoying them, angering them, making them hate him.

So, desperate for their approval, he does some research.

“How to Make Humans Happy.”

The results are… inconclusive. There’s far too many wildly different options, all sorted under… “love languages?” (Something Tommy’s translator strangely doesn’t have.)

So he tests a few on SBI.

“Physical touch,” specifically, “hugs.” Something about putting their arms — of which Tommy has four — around each other.

So surely he’ll be good at it.

And there’s no one better to give it to than the crew’s fighter, Techno.

It’s *easy.*

The moment Techno appears, Tommy practically tackles him, throwing his arms around the human and *squeezing.*

And it’s… nice, too. Warm. Solid. Comforting.

Until Techno pries him off with a grimace.

“Not my thing, kid.”

Tommy doesn’t dwell on it.

(Doesn’t spend a sleepless night on panicked research. Doesn’t fill a notebook with frantic scribbles and ruined hypotheses. Doesn’t pace, terrified he’s ruined something.)

No. He just moves to his next target. His next test.

“Phil: ‘Quality Time.’”

This one’s a bit clearer. Something about giving the human ‘undivided attention.’ Talking with them. Being close.

(Tommy ignores how that sounds nice to *him,* too. This is about Phil. Not himself.)

And just like Techno, it falls apart in seconds.

“Sorry, mate. I’m busy.”

Phil brushes right past Tommy, captain’s coat flicking behind him.

Tommy stumbles after him, translator failing under how much he stutters. "I just— wanted to talk? Time? Just a little—”

“Maybe later,” Phil says. And to his credit, he sounds apologetic.

But later never comes.

He’s *captain.* Of course he’s busy. Tommy forgives him instantly.

But he doesn’t forgive himself. His quarters are practically drenched in papers now, pieces of research, frantic notes. Failed attempts to show love (to see if they love them).

He has one last shot.

Wilbur.

Maybe he’d like ‘physical touch.’ Or, ‘quality time.’

But those failed. And Tommy can’t do, ‘gift giving,’ with nothing to give. Or ‘words of affirmation,’ with his translator so unreliable.

But he can try ‘acts of service.’ He can work more.

That’s why he’s here, after all.

In the next few days, he disappears.

He cleans, takes inventory of supplies, organizes plans, always trying to catch Wilbur’s eye. (Never *telling* him. Surely this love is supposed to be selfless. Quiet.)

But what catches Wilbur’s attention is how Tommy ruins everything.

It was meant to be kind.

It was just one leak in the ship’s engine room. Tommy knows basic mechanics — he knows how to fix it. Just a few patches, a few readjustments—

And then every alarm light goes off, every emergency alert wailing.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

It’s only after the leak’s patched that Wilbur whirls on him, face bright, jaw tight, eyes narrowed.

(Rage, Tommy can understand. It’s just love he’s confused by.)

“I was… I was trying to help? I was doing my job?”

Wilbur scoffs, snatching his mechanic’s kit and stalking out the door.

And right before he disappears, Tommy hears him mutter, “Then it’s a good thing your contract’s ending.”

And it is.

Tommy has a few more days with them. A few more days to try to show them love, to piece together the frantic notes around his room.

But he doesn’t. Just curls into a quiet ball. Small. Unnoticeable.

Because if they’re giving him up, then that’s what they must want.

“You were supposed to pack up.”

It’s Techno that stands outside Tommy’s quarters, peering into the room.

Pack up — to leave, with the contract ending. And Tommy hasn’t even gotten up.

Or hidden the notes & failed research scattered around the room.

“I’m sorry.”

He clambers to his feet, swaying dizzily. Surely Techno won’t notice them. He hadn’t noticed Tommy’s failed attempts either, and if Tommy’s leaving, he surely doesn’t care now—

“What’s this?”

Techno’s brow furrows, eyes fallen on a sheet pinned to the wall. (Test 1: ‘Physical Touch’)

Tommy stumbles in front of him, blocking his view. “Sorry, I’ll clean that up—”

He almost slips on the papers across the floor. The frantic notes he’d written each time he failed.

His handwriting’s shit. But he can still see Techno reading them, brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

*Test 3: ‘Acts of Service.*

*Wilbur should like this one? I’m helping?*

*I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.*

*I don’t know how to love them right.*

Stupid. All of them. And Techno must think the same, with how he slowly looks up.

“Tommy—”

Tommy bolts. If they want him to leave, he’ll make it easy — and so he runs.

Or… tries to.

Because Techno catches him. Pulls him close, arms gently closing around him.

A hug.

“What were you trying to do?”

Techno’s voice is soft, murmuring over him. He’s… not letting go. Not shoving Tommy away. So Tommy almost manages to say, *I just wanted to love you—*

“Tommy?”

And oh, this hug is nice.

Because Tommy can hide his face in Techno’s chest as Wilbur and Phil slip into the room.

No one even has to say anything. There’s just silence, as the two slowly take in Tommy’s mess of research.

“I tried.”

Tommy’s voice breaks on both words. But the translator must catch them, because all three humans turn towards him, Techno’s hug gently tightening.

Even before Tommy whispers, “I didn’t know if I was loving you right.”

“You were.”

It’s Techno. He slowly lowers himself to the ground, still cradling Tommy so painfully soft.

“You’re trying.” Techno’s voice catches as he looks at the scattered papers. “So, so hard. That means everything.”

And right there, Tommy starts to sob.

He’s done his research. He knows what SBI’s doing, as they comfort him.

Techno, holding him, rubbing his back. Phil, sitting at his side & never leaving, quietly talking like Tommy’s worth his attention. Wilbur, only leaving to bring blankets & fresh, warm drinks.

It’s love.

(Afterwards, there’s… a bit of change around the ship.

There’s clearer communication, for one, giving a bit of extra time for translation errors.

And sometimes, words aren’t even necessary. Just gentle contact. Gifts. Time spent quietly in each other’s company, warm and safe.

A different language entirely.)

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza

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gizm0-gadgetz · 2 months

Text

Oki doki! I don't really have a name for this au so if yall think of one lemme know. Call this the first chapter of my Post DTTM New Texas time travel fic I guess?

I don't know how well the concept is worded in this but I hope yall enjoy. Please please please lemme know what ya think

Under the read more (spacing might be a bit weird as its copied from my docs

When Jonny came too he was pissed. This was supposed to be the end, why was he still alive? It was like the universe was just trying to rub it in that he'd be alone…yet he felt someone else next to him. Somebody quite cold. Slowly and with much more effort than he expected he rolled over onto his back and sat up, having to do a double take at what he saw.

The entire crew was there, presumably knocked out themselves. Nastya was sitting closest to him, her body radiating a cold chill. Carefully he put a hand on her shoulder, almost jumping at the lack of warmth. He didn't let it dissuade him and carefully began searching for a pulse. It took a moment to find, he wasn't the greatest at it in the first place, but soon enough he found a pulse. It was slow but there. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and began to check everyone else in the area. Everybody who had a pulse normally still had it. They were all alive and all together.

That was that problem solved now where were they? It was a large empty clearing, a dry planet it seemed. Something about it nagged at him, like it was framiler. He tried to focus in on any noises and smells traveling in the wind which was harder to do than he expected. Perhaps he'd run out of practice? His ears twitched, alerting him to the sound of his friends starting to move.

He looked over to see Ivy slowly sit up and try to orientate herself. She brushed some dust and sand out of her hair and metal plating as she looked around before locking eyes with Jonny. Neither of them knew what to do for the moment, just staring at each other before finally he made a move. He practically launched himself at her to pull her into a tight hug, not saying a word. It took her a moment to process before she hugged back.

“Where are we?” She finally asked once he had let go. He just frowned and she seemed to get the message. “Should we awaken them?” With a simple gesture to the crew they agreed and began to shake everyone else awake. It wasn't too hard, most everyone woke up quite easily. Soon it was just the Toy Soldier left who didn't seem to respond to anything.

“Shit. How do we wake it up?” He looked to Ivy for ideas since everyone else was still adjusting. She stayed silent for a moment, staring at its body intensely as she analyzed the situation.

“It stopped pretending.”

“Yeah. Can we make it start again?”

“I think so.”

“How?”

“Pretend back.”

“And how do you suggest I do that exactly?” Jonny had to fight an eye roll at the simple suggestion. She paused to think it over before snickering quietly. “What? What did you come up with.”

“Well the most effective way, a 90 percent chance I believe, would be to give it a little kiss!”

“Wha- i- it's always kisses with you people!!!” He groaned, ignoring the rest of the crew's snickers as he crawled over to the toy soldier. After a moment he frowned and gave it a little kiss on the forehead. It seemed like nothing happened for a good few minutes before suddenly its eyes opened and it shot up like a bullet, hitting Jonny as he was still kneeled over it. He tumbled backwards holding his head. “Motherfucker!!!”

“Oh! Sorry Jonny old chap!” It held its hand out for him, clearly not picking up on his glare as he took the hand and let himself be pulled up. Once its hand had been taken the Toy Soldier pulled his friend into a tight hug, lifting the man off the floor ever so slightly. The others just watched as he attempted to wiggle his way out of the embrace, it being none the wiser of his escape attempts. “Lovely to see you again!!”

“Toy soldier, drop him.” It frowned but released the first mate from its grip, looking to Nastya who had given the order. “Thank you. Now, where are we exactly?” She turned her attention to Brian and Ivy, both of which were trying to work on recognizing the area.

“I do believe there is a town nearby.” Ivy clarifies after a long moment of silence. “Do you feel it?” Brian nodded and began walking toward something.

“Hold on, we can't just be going off into the middle of nowhere!” Jonny called out, having to sprint to catch up with his long strides. Brian paused for only a moment, scooping Jonny up in his arms once he was close enough. “Hey!! Hold on a fuckin’ second!! Put me down, bastard!!!”

“It's better than staying out here in the middle of nowhere. What's the worst that could happen?” Nastya's breath was visible as she spoke, the intense difference of the hot climate and how cold she was obvious.

“Shes got a point.” Ashes chimed in, catching up with the group.

“Theres a lot we need to discuss too.” Raph added; stretching as she walked. “Wouldn't that be better over some drinks?” Jonny didn't awnser right away, just staring at the group from over Brian's shoulder before sighing.

“Fine.” He grumbled, his tail flicking like that of an agitated cat. “Just…” Suddenly he sat up fully in Brian's arms, eyes narrowed and ears twitching. A low growl reverberated in his throat. The rest of the Mechanisms were confused. Clearly something had caught his attention but they couldn't see anything.

“Jonny?” He didn't respond even as Brian shifted to try and make them look eye to eye. Clearly whatever had his attention was important in some way. “What do you see?”

“I know where we are.” He finally clarifies as they continue to walk. “and we are going to stand out a lot. Now the problem is when..” He sighed and closed his eyes, ears twitching forward toward the horizon.

“Well, spill. Where are we then?” Ashes paused to light a cigar, missing the framiler taste. Jonny doesn't answer right away, instead shifting in Brian's arms so he could see ahead better. He was squinting in the bright sun's gaze, eventually deciding to pull his goggles over his eyes to focus.

“When would be a better question.” He grumbled mostly to himself as the town started to come into view.

“Looks like Vegas almost..” Tim pointed out as they approached. “Old party city on earth. Filled to the brim with gambling alcohol and all that fun stuff.” He explained after getting a few confused looks.

“Yeah…that's one way to describe this place.” Jonny sighed and climbed out of Brian's arms, this time allowed to do so. He did a wide gesture to the whole place as he began to talk. “Welcome to New Texas,” choosing to ignore the soft gasps coming from a few of his crew, he continued. “You're almost all going to stand out a lot just for being tall. I'm the taller side of average here.”

“No way. Really?” Tim had his doubts as he looked over his significantly shorter partner.

“Yes!! If you don't belive me you'll see in just a minute!!” He turned around and stormed toward the city, his tail betraying just how agitated he was about it.

“Well…I belive its about time we learn about Jonny.” Ivy pointed out as she began to follow the man.

“Oooh, do you think we can learn about his medical history here?” Marius chimed in with an excited look on his face.

“That would be wonderful!” Raph clapped her hands together with a big grin, the others simply choosing to ignore their interest in the topic. They kept walking until they reached the edge of town, proceeding into Jonny who had stopped.

“Something wrong chap?” Toy Soldier asked as it followed his gaze into town. After a moment the man just sighed and turned to face his companion.

“You look too clean, you're gonna stand out.” It didn't even have a chance to ask what he meant before he pulled him down by the shirt and took its hat away. He took a moment to ruffle its carefully styled hair before letting go. “That'll do for now. Right, listen up. As your captain-”

“First mate!”

“-You need to listen to me. Especially here.” For once he didn't even react to the jest. “This place is…shit. People here are gonna try and trick ya and rob ya at every moment. Just…keep a look out i guess.” He sighed, his gaze drifting back into town. “Blasted timelines.” After a moment he shook his head and ruffled his hair up. “Lets go to the bar.” He didn't even wait for a response before heading further into town. They had to hurry to catch up, lest they lose him in the crowded streets.

“Wow…he wasn't kidding.” Tim mused as he walked, paying attention to where he was stepping.

“So many of them-!” Raph squealed, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Until we know exactly what is happening you are not touching anybody.” Nastya’s tone left no room for discussion on the subject. She pulled her coat closer, glad she still had it as the cold had permeated her bones.

“This certainly explains a lot about our first mate!” Toy Soldier exclaimed, looking around with an eager smile. Eventually Jonny finally stops outside a larger building in the center of a crowded street. He took a deep breath and looked back to his crew.

“Right-”

“This is One-Eyed Jacks??” Tim interrupted, looking up at the sign.

“Yes. As much as I absolutely detest this place...they serve good drinks. Just…don't do anything stupid.” Jonny takes one last deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside. Everyone started following him in before there was a soft thunk. Turning back they saw tim holding his head, having clearly hit the door frame on his way in. Jonny just stared at him for a moment before chuckling which quickly turned into a proper laugh. “Should'a ducked jackass-” Tim only grumbled, still holding his head as he ducked this time before purposely stepping on the smaller man's foot. His hand flew to his holster only to find it empty. Right. He had thrown it away a while ago. “Yer a lucky bastard Tim.”

“Jonny.” Nastya scolded, looking down at him and then at Tim. “You already said we will stand out, do not bring any more attention to yourselves.”

“Yeah yeah…” He grumbled, hating the fact that she was right. Once he had taken the moment to calm down he led his group to the edge of the bar and took a seat on the farthest end he could get. It was clear to anyone paying attention he was very fidgety compared to normal. “Ashes ya got gold?”

“Always.” They dug into their pocket and pulled out a wallet, glad to see the papers weren't burnt. “Not in the mood for violence huh?” He just watched them as they took the seat next to him. After a moment he answered with a shrug.

“‘M too tired.” He spoke quietly, a very rare occurrence for himself. Tim decided to just stand next to Jonny, leaning against the bar as everyone else took a seat. Nobody knew what to say as they waited for a bartender to spot them.

“Good afternoon gents, and ladies of course.” A voice spoke up as someone approached. Jonny had to stop himself from growling as he recognized the man behind the bar. “Can't say i've seen yer faces ‘round here before ‘nd I know everyone. What can I get ya?” It was pretty easy to figure out that the bartender was the “one eyed jack”, owner of the casino and bar. The eyepatch made it quite obvious, confirmed by how much Jonny tensed up.

“Just whiskey,” Ashes decides to take the wheel before Jonny reaches over the bar and strangles the man.

“For all of yall?” They just nod as he reaches under the counter and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. “Never seen yall ‘round here before. Where'd ya come from?”

“We came from outer space!” Jack pauses pouring a glass and looks at the Toy Soldier who only smiled. He was certainly intrigued, especially as Ashes elbowed it.

“Soldier! Don't answer random questions.” They scolded, watching as it paused for a moment before nodding and doing a mini salute, a signifier of having taken an order. Jack takes a moment to finish pouring the nine glasses before looking at them again, this time taking in as many details as he could.

“So, outer space huh? We ain't get many of those ‘round here too often. What brings ya to our lil’ town?” Clearly he was trying to sound nonchalant about it all despite being very interested. They could all see it from a mile away.

“None yer business jack.” Jonny grumbled before very quickly slamming his drink back. The man's ear twitched as he turned his focus to Jonny.

“Visitin’ after ya left huh? Ain't a very common thing to see. Dunno I've ever seen someone come back.” Jack leaned over the counter right in front of Jonny. Everyone just watched, unsure of what to do. If a fight broke out there was no saving the guy as Jonny was clearly barely holding back. “I can hear it in yer voice. Yer from ‘round here.” Jonny didn't answer, just staring at the man for a long moment before reaching over to Ashes and swiping their cigar.

“Wh-Jonny! You could just ask for your own!” They gently punched him in the shoulder but didn't bother taking it back as he took a puff.

“Taking yers is more fun.” Jack opened his mouth to say something before his attention was pulled away by someone knocking on the bar. Someone set an unmarked envelope on the table which Jack slipped into his pocket without a word. They didn't get much of a chance to look at the stranger before they disappeared through a door behind the bar. Jack watched them leave before turning his attention to the group again.

“Anything else I can get ya?” Jonny just shook his head.

“No. We should get going.” He could feel the rest of his crew look at him weird, after all they hadn't been there long and he almost never left after only one round of drinks. Quietly he just gestured to the door, mouthing something about explaining in a second. It took them all a moment to understand but soon enough Ashes was paying the tab and they were out in the hot sun again.

Jonny wasted no time in walking away, clearly having his mind set on something and not sharing what it was per usual. Since he was essentially their guide the rest of the mechanisms had no choice but to follow, each with varying levels of curiosity on where he was going. After a few minutes of silent walking he took a turn into an alleyway.

“Okay, what are you doing Jonny?” Nastya eyed him suspiciously as he pulled himself on top of a dumpster.

“Gonna check somethin. Stay put.” It was strange to hear him so serious as he climbed up the side of a building and onto the roof. He paused to look down at the group, once again gesturing for them to stay before walking across the roof and out of view.

“Well thats not suspicious at all.” Ashes scoffed, lighting a new cigar as Jonny hadn't given theirs back.

“Should we be following him?” Marius fidgeted awkwardly with his coat tail, unsure of what to do.

“We should give him a few minutes.” Brian piped in, startling a few of them. He had been very quiet since they arrived in New Texas and had been the last to finish his drink. If Brian was encouraging something it usually meant he had an idea of what was happening so they agreed to stay, at least for the moment.

Still they couldn't help but wonder what he was up to that climbing onto a roof was the best way to go about it. Clearly he'd taken that path many times as he got up with ease. It was just more mystery about his actual backstory.

#gizm0 #gizm0 writing #the mechanisms #one eyed jack #nastya rasputina #jonny dville #jonny d'ville #drumbot brian #the toy solider #toy solider #raphaella la cognizi #baron marius von raum #marius von raum #ashes o'reilly #gunpowder tim

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nethhiri · 7 months

Text

Marooned: Chapter 10

Kid X FemReader x Killer

Had big plans for Chapter 10 but decided to split it into two chapters. Felt like it would flow better.

Warnings: attempted SA, violence, murder

Femme Fatale

It was your third day on the ship and you woke up on the floor of the infirmary after slipping off Mini's side at some point in the night. Getting off the ground was harder than you wanted it to be. My back is so fucked. You stretched until the pain softened and then went to the mess hall, this time with everyone else. The outfit that you had made from hand-me-downs was much better than what you had on, but since it was a dress, you didn't really want to wear it until you had panties. You knew if you tried to wear it without them, a wardrobe malfunction would inevitably happen.

After grabbing your plate, you looked around for a place to sit, eyes from all around darted to you. It felt like your first day at the marine academy all over again. You saw Heat, but he was with the higher ranking people. The girls all sat together at one end of a table. That was your best bet, though you hadn't had female friends in a while. As a kid, you looked like a boy and hung out with the boys for the most part. And in your more recent life, you were the only female on the crew. Approaching the table, your foot hit something and you nearly tripped. Catching yourself, you turned to see what you tripped over and saw the same man that didn't heed your advice about the poisonous fruit retract his foot. The son of a bitch tried to trip you. Him and his buddies snickered at you, stopping pretty quickly after you stared them down. You weren't a captain anymore, but you still carried an aura of authority. It had always been second nature. You rolled your eyes, heading towards the girls. Losers.

"Mind iff I sit?" you nodded towards an empty space.

"Go ahead," a kind looking woman with big hair slapped the spot next to her. "I'm Quincy. Sorry about Synth over there. He's new."

"I see," you eyed him. You ate without saying anything else.

"You're taking care of Killer, right? He usually cooks and it's MUCH better than this. I promise."

You shrugged, "It's the best stuff I've eaten in a few years." Curiosity about Killer tickled your mind. You wondered how good of a chef he was. It was odd for a first-mate to also cook.

"I hope Killer wakes up soon. Captain is getting agitated. I think he locked himself in his workshop all day yesterday." Quincy was sort of rambling.

A very petite woman with green pigtails spoke up, "Yeah we put bets that he was with you, new girl, since you were missing all day, too." You found out later she was called Dive. "But you're walking fine so I guess not."

You blinked at her and felt your face turn red. "Gross." You hid behind your napkin, pretending to wipe your mouth off while you willed your face to cool off. Much of your day alone yesterday was spent bitching to Killer's unconscious form about how much Kid annoyed you, which then somehow evolved into daydreaming about hate-fucking him. The rest of the table sat up a little straighter as a harsh flick to the back of your head alerted you to the presence of the Red Menace.

"What's gross now?" He put his hands on yours and Quincy's shoulders and leaned down with his signature smirk.

As the rest of the group was a chorus of "nothing", your voice stood out, "You." You ducked to shake his hand from your shoulder, grabbing your plate and heading to put it up.

"HAH?" There was stomping coming up behind you. Quickening your pace, you slipped out onto the deck and waited there with your arms crossed. You thought about going to the infirmary, but it was nice outside, and you wanted to see why Kid came up to you in the first place. The door to the deck slammed open and he made a beeline for you, holding a mop. "ROTTEN!" He shoved it at you. "I want this deck spotless or yer gonna be at the bottom of the ocean."

Taking the mop from him, you conceded, "Aye, Captain."

Kid narrowed his amber eyes in your direction. He expected you to put up a bit more of a fight and he didn't like your tone, but he stalked towards Wire, who was manning the helm, without another word. Maybe it wasn't the tone that really bothered him, but the silky way the word "Captain" rolled from your mouth and the way your eyes teasingly sparkled at him. He didn't notice before, that your right eye wasn't a normal prosthetic. It was a strange-looking log pose. Mentally, he was keeping a list of every odd thing about you, including the fact that when he looked at you from the side, your left side, there was a strange familiarity. Yesterday, he spent the time in his workshop investigating your hybrid weapon. It was the worst, most impractical thing he had ever seen. He knew he could make a better version, not for you of course, he just liked the challenge.

Before you started your assigned duty, you called Minerva out to lay in the sun. She loved a good sunbathing session. Every time you started a new section, she would trot her stubby legs over and plop down near you. As people passed by, her snout followed them, sniffing and grunting at the air. Some of the girls from this morning asked if they could pet her, which she thoroughly enjoyed. When you needed a break, you set the mop down in her tusks. Mini didn't appreciate it, but her lack of will to shake it off made her tolerate it. To pass the time, you softly sang to yourself some of the shanties you knew. Some of the crew joined in when they passed by, which brought a small smile to your face. Maybe the Kid pirates aren't so terrible. From the stories you used to hear, you thought they would be rougher. Lost in thoughts, you didn't notice most of the crew filter under the deck for lunch. Several other pairs of eyes noticed that you were alone on deck, however.

Minerva's ears flipped forward an instant before there was an arm around your neck, cutting off your air supply. "All by yourself are ya, girl? We think you could use some company." Rank breath said, so close to your neck you could throw up. His hand groped your chest and he snickered. "No bra? Just for us? Our lucky day." Your heartbeat flew at the unfortunately familiar situation. Unpleasant memories threatened to flood in and you beat them back. That was the past and this was the present, and you weren't going to let phantoms get in your way of beating someone's ass. You never had. You saw the fur on Mini's back stand up. The click of gun being cocked was the only thing stopping her from annihilating the two lackeys that were with this waste of carbon. You took a breath to steady yourself as adrenaline rushed into your veins. They picked the wrong one. Sliding your foot back for a solid balance, you flipped him over your back and swiftly grabbed the mop you dropped. Snapping the head off over your knee you got in a defensive stance.

"I would tell you that you don't want to do this, but I desperately need to blow off steam and I didn't like you the second you opened your mouth on that island." One of Synth's friends aimed his weapon at you.

"Aim at the pig. I'm going to teach this bitch a lesson myself." It was only fair you let him get off the ground. Once.

A wicked smile sat on your features. "You're the only pig I see here." This was self-defense, a green flag to inflict permanent damage. It had been a while since you fought. The voice in your head reminded you to hold back. They didn't need to know your prowess and you would definitely be flagged as a former marine for some moves. It would be hard, though, since they already reminded you of the people you swore to kill when you were back at sea. Rage was the perfect antidote to poisoned memories. No phantoms, red was all you saw.

You circled each other. Synth lunged at you with a blade that you hadn't noticed before. Wonderful. I brought a mop to a knife fight. You slid out of the way, letting him run past you and hitting him as hard as you could with the mop handle, without using haki, in the head. He wasn't knocked out but he was knocked down, knife clattering on the wood. You stepped on his hand as he reached for it and picked it up yourself. If stupid Kid hadn't taken your weapon, this would be over a lot faster. You needed to free Minerva up from being held under gunpoint. You would be damned if you called for help, especially from Kid. You had too much pride.

Testing the weight of the blade in your hand, you whipped it at Lackey #1. Several things happened simultaneously: Lackey #1 dropped his gun when the knife plunged into his stomach, Lackey #2 had his attention drawn away from Mini and onto you, you followed your throw and hit him upside the head with the mop, and Quincy had seen it all happen from the door. She had noticed you weren't at the table with them like this morning and went to grab you for lunch. Lackey #1 hit the floor screaming and looking for his gun, which was a ways away from you both. Blood rushed in your ears so loudly, you didn't hear it. A searing pain ripped through your thigh as a bullet went clean through to the deck. Lackey #2 was aiming for your chest when Mini rammed him and flung him straight up into the air. You stumbled as your leg spasmed under you. Looking for Synth, he wasn't where you left him. You cursed your inability to use observation haki as you felt yourself being hit from the side and being tackled to the deck. Synth was over you balling his fist. White covered your vision as you felt it connect with your face. When color flooded back, you saw your fake eye rolling across the deck. No, no, no. That was the key to finding the people you owed a visit. His hands were around your throat and your vision threatened to fade again as you struggled to take a breath. Like a viper, the palm of your hand struck out at his face, crushing his nose and causing his grip to falter. Despite the pain in your leg, you managed to flip him off you and get your legs around his throat in a triangle chokehold. Blood from his face coated your hand and you tasted iron in your mouth. As soon as you got your bearings, you saw Lackey #1 crawling to his gun. "Mini!" you rasped. She looked to where you pointed. Lackey #2 was also crawling to his gun, clearly having a worse time since his fall from the sky broke a few bones. She trotted to the gun, which happened to be slightly closer to her and kicked it close enough that you could lunge to grab it. Lackey #1 was taking aim at Mini, who had turned her attention to him, lowering her head to charge. Synth was fighting your hold, though weakly. Squeezing him harder, you tried to get him to stop moving. Your aim wasn't as good as it was when you had two eyes. Depth perception was a real bitch. The bullet cracked through the air as you took aim and shot. You saw him fall from the corner of your vision as you did the same thing to Lackey #2. The pistol cocked a third time. Your hand gripped his hair and yanked his head to the side to get a better angle, pressing the cold steel to his temple. It didn't fire when you pulled the trigger, not the next time either. You settled for pistol whipping him. Releasing him from your hold, you sat on his chest instead and let him know what a real punch felt like, knocking his teeth out. There were suddenly hands pulling you off him as you cocked your fist back to get him again.

You hadn't noticed the commotion that was now on deck. Quincy had ran down to the mess in a panic to tell Kid what was happening. The crew were whispering amongst themselves as Kid walked over to where Heat and Wire had you restrained. He didn't acknowledge you at all. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He looked mad. So mad he was silent instead of his usual screaming self. Pain started to seep into your body as the adrenaline wore off and you caught your breath. Kid spoke directly to Wire, "Keep her in the med bay until I'm done." His voice was low with unbridled rage. You watched Kid stalk off to Synth and pick him up by the hair before he disappeared under the deck. Wait is he mad at him or me? Or both? Wire and Heat half-dragged you to the infirmary while your eyes scanned the deck for your eye. If it was gone, your life would be a lot more difficult.

You fought their hold on you. "I can walk," your voice was still raspy. Wire half-heartedly slapped the bullet hole in your thigh. Gritting your teeth through the pain, "What the fuck?"

"Not everything has to be a fight. Let us help you," Heat said, trying to make up for Wire's rougher approach.

You spat out a fake laugh. "Oh yeah? By doing what? Keeping me captive so your captain can choke me to death himself?" They didn't say anything else until they set you down on the counter in the infirmary. Mini followed them in, eyeing them warily. Heat stayed by the door and you could see Wire guarding it from the outside. You scooted on the counter to grab gauze and antiseptic. You wished you could use your power to restore yourself but they would notice if a wound was suddenly gone. From the cabinet you took some pain pills and washed them down with water straight from the sink faucet. You looked yourself over, noticing that this was not a job for some pieces of gauze. You hopped on your good leg and with Minerva's assistance, made it to the bathroom.

"Leave the door open."

"Heat, I didn't take you for a pervert like your captain."

He frowned and closed his eyes. "I'm not..." Heat genuinely seemed a bit insulted. "Just need to know you didn't pass out from blood loss," he muttered.

"I'll tell you when to open them." You stripped off the bloody and torn clothes, easing yourself into the shower. The water was cold at first. It helped to dull the pain, or that was the pain medicine kicking in. Gingerly, you washed out the various cuts and wounds, wincing at the sting. When the water turned from rusty-brown to clear, you got out, dried off, and went to where you had Killer's old shirt. Slipping it on and buttoning it you cleared your throat, "Ok, you can open." You pushed yourself back up on the counter and continued to disinfect your major cuts. After you dressed the last one, you sat in silence with your hands between your knees.

"Who are you?" Heat only had curiosity behind his eyes, no malice or suspicion.

"Does it matter? Kid is gonna kill me for shooting those guys." He probably wanted you alive so he could torture you to his heart's content.

"Nah. Those guys were brand new." Heat continued after considering what to say, "Captain is probably mad at himself for not keeping a closer eye on them. If it wasn't you it could have been one of the other girls." Heat grinned, "And between you and me, you're much stronger than them."

You looked down at your feet. "I'm glad it was me then," you said softly. That was something you could understand. It always felt terrible when you were unable to protect someone in your crew. It felt like you were a failure as a captain. The girls all seemed nice enough and they were obviously tough if they were part of the Kid Pirates. Even you had gotten hurt, though, so it could have been worse for one of them.

You hopped over to Killer, checking on him. "Damn, this dude can sleep." You prodded him. Placing your ear to his chest, there was still a little mucus rattling around. You were a little tired yourself after all that had transpired. Mini was already asleep in her corner. There was a chair near Killer's legs that you plopped in. You weren't about to ask Heat to give you a boost into your bunk, so you folded your arms where there was space on the stretcher and laid your head down.

#there was also a literal dumpster fire across the street #kid x reader x killer #one piece #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #marooned #tw: sa #tw: murder

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barren-heart · 1 month

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What We do in the Shadows is going to break the fourth wall in a major way in S6. Here’s why.

I know I’ve been super annoying about this, but I’m literally convinced a real world episode is going to happen in season 6 of WWDITS.

Commonly referred to as “The French Mistake” Episode in reference to Supernatural’s The French Mistake which was itself a reference to Blazing Saddles which broke the fourth wall and (decades old spoiler alert) was discovered to be filmed on a film set.

The real-world episode is a trope in television where a character or characters discover for some reason that they are on a film set (either being transported by magic or maybe in a dream).

Sitcom Growing Pains (1985-1992) and sci-fi show Eerie, Indiana (1991-1992) are two of these early examples of where characters enter a tv set version of their lives, for different reasons.

Growing Pains, in sitcom fashion, was to teach a moral lesson.

Eerie, for its spooky episodes, was to showcase how supernatural and mysterious the town was.

And of course, Supernatural, known for its specific monster-of-the week style episodes, does so for its meta-commentary on the show.

Now why would WWDITS do one of these style episodes?

Well, it’s a comedy for one. Putting your characters in situations that are “out of the norm” helps make the conflicts more hilarious. It’s a fish-out-of-water situation.

The show is also meta as fuck. Maybe not in the same way as Supernatural did, but there are fourth wall breaking moments. Especially related to the documentary itself.

Unlike those other shows, WWDITS characters are meant to be on camera. This show is aware of its cameras at all times. The characters are constantly filmed and understand they are being filmed.

And my last reason, which I believe is the biggest reason, is for Guillermo’s character development.

Since they are constantly filmed, a lot of Nandor and Guillermo’s relationship has not been able to progress as much as it can. Nandor, like the other vampires, obviously doesn’t care about the cameras. Nudity and sex on camera doesn’t bother them. They arn’t holding much back. (Although you could argue Nandor might be holding back some feelings, as well).

Guillermo is definitely holding back. The most private character in front of the cameras. He is the most aware. And because he is aware, he never lets all of himself be revealed.

This is something that would help him if he wasn’t being filmed anymore. Taking the documentary element away and confronting the actors, producers, and potentially even Paul Simms himself, could change Guillermo at his core.

This would make himself more comfortable being his true self in front of the cameras, especially when it comes to his feelings about Nandor which he has consistently denied to the audience and other characters, even when it’s pretty obvious.

Now, could the other characters benefit from meeting the other actors and film crew? Yes. Nandor would certainly be a good character for this. Meeting Harvey could potentially break Nandor’s brain. Something I would love to see.

And Colin would be downright hilarious in this setting.

But, tbh, I think this episode would have Nandor and Guillermo confront their feelings, as we (the audience)would then see the motivations behind the characters. The notes in the script that we don’t get to see. Paul Simms referencing Nandermo ala Supernatural’s Fan Fiction.

It’s the perfect setting for a one-off comedy episode but also great for fan service…and the perfect set up for Nandermo to begin.

#WWDITS #WWDITS s6 #what we do in the shadows #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandermo

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

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Being Luffy's Stray (Version B)

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- No one knew you were there, not until they had to fight Klahadore, which was annoying to no end

- You never liked him or his crew which is why you watched as the Straw hats fought, tail flicking when you heard the sounds of the house becoming more and more damaged

- You couldn't interfere though, if others found out, namely the demon pirate hunter himself, you might be done for

- Luffy happily pet you when you finally appeared

"You were worried about a cat?" Nami asks.

"Not really," he scratches your chin. "I know she can handle herself."

"You're weird, you know that," Usopp tells him.

The rubber man shrugs.

- After that, you were hoping nothing else would happen, you'd like to be able to enjoy a day without fighting anyone

- Oh, how life is a bitch and throws a curveball your way

- You woke up and found yourself in fog, but decide to go back to your nap before you clawed someone

- The next thing you know, you're in a restaurant

"Welcome to the shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji, what can I get you?"

You meow at him without realizing it, if you were in your human form, you'd be blushing

"I'm sorry but we cannot allow pets in here but since the old man is busy, I'll let it slide," he smirks at the rubber man.

You purr as a thank you.

- And, then the captain makes the biggest mistake ever and tries to do an iou instead of paying which earns him a non-paying job as a dish washer

"Shouldn't you leave her on the boat? I don't think the kitchen is a very safe or sanitary environment for a cat," Nami tells him.

Luffy shrugs. "Not much they can do after hours, right?"

"Luffy."

"Fine."

- You snuck out to check on him, watching as they helped a drifting pirate

- Luffy smiles when he notices you hanging in the shadows

- Your paws running across the floor alert the chef

"You found us."

You pause, wondering if he knows who you are but realize he's talking as if you're the rubber man's pet

He bends down, one knee on the ground with one arm resting on his bent knee as he holds out a piece of meat for you, letting you take your time coming to him

You sniff, making sure he's not trying to kill you

- Thus, the start of an interesting relationship between you two

- The real kicker was when everyone found out the secret only Luffy knew about, and it was only because Arlong and his crew showed up

- After kicking the chef into a table, scaring the bejesus out of Usopp, and pushing Luffy into a wall

- Let's just say, they had it coming

- You run from kitchen door, using the toppled table as leverage, shifting midair to kick Arlong in his abdomen

"Don't mess with my friends."

"There she is the dead cat back again." He smirks, "and here I thought I'd killed you."

"Well, you know a cats got nine lives and I'd never give one to you."

- Luffy sends you away

- You take care of the other two, literally kicking them out (or at least, close to the door)

- You run over to Usopp and Sanji

"So, you're the cat?"

You stare you. "Does it look like it's the right opportunity to ask that?"

He chuckles, groaning soon after.

You roll your eyes and haul them up off the stairs by the collar of their shirts.

Usopp whines the whole way

- The real interesting thing was when you all found yourself fighting Arlong's pirates

- You didn't plan on shifting into something bigger, but it was necessary

- Usopp ran to the side when he saw you, a large maroon jaguar running towards him (but not aiming for him)

- Zoro jumps beside you, using his katana to take out the fishman trying to grab your hind leg. "Glad to see you decided to join."

"Shouldn’t you be on bed rest?"

"Someone’s gotta watch Luffy's back."

- You launch yourself across the way, clawing a fishman trying to punch the chef only for him to save himself

He turns around, smirking down at you, "I don't want such a gorgeous feline like yourself to ruin your claws."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'd never break a claw on any one of these guys."

- The building collapses and you change back into your human form, just in time for Nami to hug you (and you give Sanji a hug, so he got one too)

- You're just happy it's all over even though there was a slight mishap regarding Luffy’s grandpa

- After you all said your dreams, that's when the real adventure began

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #straw hat pirates x reader #one piece x you #straw hat crew x reader #straw hat pirates x you #straw hat crew x you #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action x you #crazyk-imagine

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everlastingdream · 24 days

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The first time Stelle sees Kafka on the Express in person Welt is almost instantly at the Himeko's side. He is shielding her, his cane ready and already glowing. Stelle freezes in the middle of her step, feeling her joy dying at the sight of Himeko trembling slightly behind Welt's back despite her defiant look. Kafka's smile doesn't reach her eyes.

Don't come closer! Just stay away from me! It should be easy for you.

"What are you doing here, Stellaron Hunter?" Dan Heng grits, clenching his polearm, subtly moving to their companions.

"Why, my dear friends, I'm just visiting my little one", Kafka moves to pat Stelle's head, but it's hard to enjoy her affection when March 7 casts her shield on the Himeko without a word.

"Mr Yang? Himeko?" Stelle feels small suddenly. She stands in the middle, torn between two parts of her family.

"It's nothing, Stelle, don't worry. You can talk with... her, as long as we can see you, so we know you are safe", Himeko says, voice steady but just a fraction too quiet. She nods to Welt and Dan Heng and pats March 7's rigid arms on her bow.

"Heard what your mother said? Come, darling, let's chat a little".

Even if Kafka appears nonchalant but her hand flexes a tiniest bit on Stelle's head. Himeko follows every movement with sharp attention she reserves for her coffee, navigation and battles.

"Kafka, what is going on?" It's the first time Stelle feels so isolated from their Astral Express family. All of them know something, huddling around their navigator.

"Nothing much. I didn't bother to contact Himeko to say I'll be droping by. So how are you? I heard there was some trouble in Jarilo-VI?"

"I'm alright, just meeting some old friends and getting to use the bat after the long time. So say why everyone more alert than when we met you at Xianzhou?"

Kafka stares at her and Stelle has the thought that Stellaron Hunter plans to use her ability. But after a moment feeling fades and Kafka just sighs, turning to the crew. Himeko smiles there, trying to calm March 7 down.

"Just past", Kafka answers without taking her eyes off the navigator. "We were close once upon a time. I was here when Himeko just embarked on her journey." Kafka chuckles low at the Stelle's surprised gusp. "Greeted every guest right beside her, since I wasn't needed in the script as frequently as now. I wasn't one for the Trailblaze, but I helped in some missions. And there was this one planet..."

I have something to say to you, when we return, starlight.

I can't wait, Kafka.

"We were ambushed. Fighted back to back. It was a thrilling battle. I heard a scream. Turned around. Saw Himeko surrounded and bleeding out. And went back to fighting".

They share a grim silence.

"Why?", Stelle asked tilting her head to the side. Girl was kind-hearted and protective, but it was moments like these when unhuman curiousity blinked in gold eyes people around was reminded about Stellaron residing in the place of her heart.

"I can't feel fear. I just saw her and shruged it off. I wasn't afraid for her. Just went back to my business. But I may not know fear but I do know regret."

"And then?"

"And then I killed everyone and took Himeko to the Express. Dan Heng barely saved her with his knowledge. Well, you can imagine what happened when Himeko woke up. She couldn't look at me without trembling for days. And I wasn't welcome here anymore".

Why are you calling me 'starlight'?

You always shining when I look at you.

"Old wounds run deep. She's still sees me abandoning her without a single emotion. And I'm too far in the script to turn back".

Stelle seems to think hard about everything said. Perhaps she too will scream at Kafka. Perhaps she will need to use her abilities after all.

"At least you have me to connect you now!" Stelle was grinning at her, when Kafka finally looked away from smile which wasn't aimed at her for the long time.

"Just try to do something and I will let your uncle Blade train you", Kafka smirked, pushing Stelle lightly to the Astral crew. "And do me a little favor. Hug Himeko for me?"

"Sure! Bye, Kafka!" She will definetely discuss everything with her friends. Her family. But for now it's enough.

Kafka saw her skipping to the March 7, asking to remove her shield, and tackled Himeko in a strong hug.

Himeko laughed and for a moment their eyes met.

Hi! The name is Himeko! I'm the navigator of the Astral Express. Well, as soon as I fix it. What is your name?

I'm Kafka. The pleasure to meet such beatiful lady. Mind if I join you?

Kafka turns away.

#hsr #honkai star rail #kafhime #hsr kafka #himeko #stelle #my take on their past #i need some trauma in it :)

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starscoffeecreamer · 4 months

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Whirl gets sent to Lost Light after being thrown around several other farms. Every past farm they transferred him to either pushed him around too much and made him snap, or they would throw him in stalls with studs and not give him any choice in the matter. He reacted violently each time, often fighting studs they attempted to mate him with, and led to him being moved to a new facility before he even got settled. The Lost Light would be his last chance in being a good little cow despite his reputation of being volatile and aggressive, or else he'd be shipped straight to Garrus-9, the only place that'd take a badly behaved cow like him who's already had too many chances.

He's on high alert the second he's dropped at the farm. He just wants to get it all over with, fight with someone so they ship him away where at least he won't be displaced again. He assumes the Lost Light handler crew are just trying to trick him into behaving, letting him have his own stall and open access to as much energon as he wanted so he'd be nice and docile. He was waiting, on the attack, for when they would inevitably shove a stud into his stall and lock them in.

He's almost shocked when there's a knock at his stall, and it's not even a stud trying to see him.

Tailgate, incredibly nosey, is well meaning. He just wanted to meet his new stall neighbor, and he had yet to see Whirl leaves his designated area. Tailgate was very heavy with sparklings, and it almost surprised Whirl how happy he seemed about it. He was used to his old farms being solely focused on the stud's treatment, where cows were there to be used and nothing more. If Tailgate had caught on to Whirl's harsh attitude in their conversation, he was good at ignoring it. The minicow just talked on and on to Whirl about how nice the farm was, about his friends he would love to introduce Whirl to later, and what caught Whirl off guard the most, how lucky he felt to meet his conjunx there.

Whirl was so unused to being at a farm where the studs cared for the cows they'd spark up, it was almost unimaginable to him that a cow would not only pick their stud, but be able to only be with one that they loved. Tailgate talked about Cyclonus like he wanted to be with him, that hadn't been something Whirl had thought about since he started getting moved from farm to farm.

Tailgate and Whirl get closer as time goes on, but Whirl never seems to run into Cyclonus for more than a few minutes when seeing Tailgate, which he's happy for. He still didn't feel like he could let his guard down enough to let a stud in his room, but he had been more social since befriending Tailgate. He'd leave his stall to meet the other cows, and he was doing fine around studs in the common areas, he just wasn't ready to start carrying for anyone yet. It almost made him worry, but he wouldn't admit it. He wasn't ready, but he didn't know how long they'd let him stay at the Lost Light without producing. For the first time Whirl had no interest in getting himself kicked off a farm. It wasn't just because the Lost Light treated him well that made him want to stay, he finally felt like he was starting to belong somewhere. They were really nice there, but how far could he push his luck not having anything to offer? He didn't want to lose his friends all because of his attitude.

Whirl would finally have a full encounter with Cyclonus when Tailgate's latest sparklings were born. He invited Whirl over to meet the little ones first, and obviously Whirl couldn't pass that up. He goes to the next stall, and Tailgate was curled up comfortably in his nest laying in Cyclonus' lap, holding two cute little sparklings close to him. Whirl had never seen another cow look so at peace. He was used to the terrible conditions he came from, where calves would be taken away after they were delivered and cows were made to pump milk after until they were deemed fit to carry again. Tailgate invited Whirl closer to hold a sparkling, and seeing Cyclonus have no strong reaction to that, he carefully moved in.

He didn't love being so close to a stud's nesting area, but his closest friend wanted him to hold his sparklings, and he couldn't disappoint. It was all a little tense at first, but Tailgate cut right through it as he always did, babbling about how cute they were and how much he already loves them. The three of them had a nice night introducing the little ones to the world, and Whirl felt at ease for the first time with a stud so close.

Pretty soon, Tailgate was asking Whirl to watch the sparklings, just for enough time for him to stretch and have some time to himself. He was babysitting one morning when he heard a knock on his stall. He was expecting Tailgate on the other side, but froze when Cyclonus stepped in. His first reaction was holding the little ones closer to his frame, some part of his mind screaming irrationally that Cyclonus would take them and he'd never see them again. Cyclonus didn't approach Whirl further, seeing the cow tensing up. He sat at the other side of the stall and just held his hands out, wanting to hold his sparklings. Whirl passed them over silently, and the two sat together quietly waiting for Tailgate to return.

Whirl's thoughts were going a mile a minute, until Cyclonus finally spoke. He thanked Whirl, not just for watching their sparklings recently, but for being there so much for Tailgate. Whirl doesn't know what to say to that, so his first reaction, the instinct that kept getting him displaced, was to be snappy with Cyclonus. It killed the conversation quickly, luckily Tailgate came back at the right time to get them out of the awkward situation.

Whirl secluded himself to his stall more after that, only making himself seen when he finally needed some energon. All his worst thoughts came back to him hard. He had to start pushing everyone away again, but he really didn't want to. He still hasn't produced anything for the farm since he got there months ago, it was only a matter of time till they got rid of him anyways, he was convinced of it. He had no reason to insert himself into Tailgate's life, the minicow was clearly too busy with his loving stud and sparklings to need to add Whirl to his list of worries too.

While Whirl was spiraling, there was a knock on his stall. He stayed silent and listened as Cyclonus talked to him from across his stall. He was sent over by Tailgate to ask Whirl to come by since, apparently, the sparklings missed him. Whirl didn't believe it for a second, and said something nasty back to Cyclonus without turning to look at him. He wanted to bait Cyclonus into fighting with him, finally getting himself shipped off like what he told himself he was always going to do. He didn't deserve all the goodness Lost Light had offered him, after all.

Cyclonus stepped closer to Whirl, not reacting to the taunting. He got as close to Whirl as Whirl seemed he could handle, which still left him half across the room but still the furthest any stud has gotten into his stall. He told him, so genuinely that Whirl couldn't even warp it in his mind, that no matter how hard he fights it, he is wanted by both of them. Tailgate has been down lately not seeing him so often, and Cyclonus is feeling the absence in their space more than he realized he would. They wouldn't push Whirl into spending time with them, but their stall was always open to him. Cyclonus would leave after that, and leave Whirl in a completely different mess of thoughts.

Later in the night, when Cyclonus had put the sparklings to sleep and Tailgate was curled up in their nest with his belly already beginning to swell again, Whirl stepped in without a word. He nestled up beside Tailgate in his nest like it was his, and the minicow felt his spark swirl fast with joy. Cyclonus, who was situated comfortably at Tailgate's other side, was happy to move to give their surprise guest more space. Whirl said nothing about the smile he saw on Cyclonus' face or about Tailgate pulling him closer to snuggle with him, he just rested one claw hand on Tailgate's belly and held Cyclonus' hand with the other claw, and the three stayed together through the night.

After that day, studs still didn't go into Whirl's stall, but that was because Whirl didn't even go in his stall. He moved himself right in with his new amica and his conjunx. He had taken to following Tailgate more, with the minibot already waddling with his big sparklings. Whenever Cyclonus wasn't touching Tailgate's cute bump, Whirl was. Lately though, Tailgate and Cyclonus wanted their hands all over Whirl, Cyclonus especially, as he would gently run his claws over the small bump slowly growing on Whirl. Whirl was constantly running his claws over his belly, finally wanting to carry now that he felt safe and secure in his home with bots that cared about him

holy shit anon, I love how you really said "I'm gonna plot today"

Poor Whirl, I love the way you give him a reason to act out so much. Maybe his empurata was a punishment from a past farm as well. I love how Tailgate's first instinct is to befriend him. I love everything about this-

#t&t answers anons #mechpreg #cowformers au #tw noncon #tw rape #tw past abuse #<- only mentioned briefly #idw whirl #idw tailgate #idw cyclonus #cywhirlgate

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harrisongslimited · 6 months

Text

George Chapter of the Day. March 13, 2024

Greetings my dear tumblr and Beatles' families! Happy to announce I'm popping a foot into the fanfiction pool and seeing 👀 what happens. Your comments are more than welcome!!

All the important stuff:

Title: I Saw Her Standing There

Story Description: John, Paul, George and Ringo meet Joie Armagh, a strong willed American girl, who influences their lives more than they wanted.

Trigger Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, drug references, adult situations and behavior, M/F smut, fluff, falling in love, tense arguments, angst.

**18 only please***

**This is a work of fiction. As such, it should not be read as a factual account of events or as biography. While many characters of the story bear the names of actual people, they and their actions have been imagined by the author and should be considered products of the imagination. This story is fictional and the events did not happen. It is written and re-produced here online for the purposes of entertainment only.**

Author's Note: I've noticed many fanfics have a Starrison or a McLennon flair, but this story will be M/F interactions including smut. It's just how I see them! Now if you're under 18, just move yourself right along. As I'm not there to patrol over you, just be strong and pass this up. I had to wait to read adult material and so do you!

Thank you to gif artists and photo owners.

Phew! That's over....

She was across the room from him; he could barely see her without his thick, black rimmed glasses. He felt her. Felt her as if she were standing within inches of him. His skin was hot. The light brown hair on his arms came alive – his stomach grumbled with a feral intensity.

Chapter 1

There was something about her. Something, he figured, she didn't know about yet, something she didn't know how to use – yet – but it made John Winston Lennon rearrange his slumped body to a nearly half-attentive position.

John watched her as best he could without his glasses. He was nearly blind without them, but acknowledged only to himself that he was far too vain to wear them in public. Besides, if he had to see something that important, Paul, George or Ringo would alert him. But at this moment, they were too interested in their own orbits to notice much.

She was talking to someone. Someone he didn't know – which he didn't care much about. From her body language, he could tell it was tense. She ran a hand through her short, auburn hair, and he continued to watch as she pointedly aggravated the man she was talking to.

This, to John, was great entertainment.

She turned in John's direction, although he couldn't tell if she saw him or not. It was nice she wasn't straining to scope out a look at the four of them , like they were the side-show freaks they felt like – or make a mad dash for the table to try to touch him like he was some bloody good luck charm. He liked that. Maybe she didn't give a shit who they were. THAT, he nodded to himself, would be refreshing for a fucking change.

She was, however, very pissed off at the little runt who was running the audition and had he been asked, John would have agreed with her. The whole scene was outrageously idiotic, as were their whole lives now, but he had danced with the devil and this was payback time.

The little moron in charge, whom John was introduced to but couldn't have cared less about, was a highly paid ass-kisser with a slimy handshake and badly manipulated crew cut. John might have the appearance of someone who didn't give a shit, but he took in everything. Every person, every nuance, every sight and smell and sound. Nothing got past him, unless he wanted it to. And the little California-tanned wild bird was giving it to the little pisser and John couldn't take his eyes away from her. It made him jealous and angry and aroused that she could do what he wasn't allowed to.

Brian was about to intervene, as the pisser/wild bird barney was holding up the whole show. He wanted to tell Brian to leave her alone, that she was practically giving him a hand job from across the room, but he also had an immediate urge to get the hell out of this place. He didn't like the United States. Too much fucking sunshine and not a decent cup of tea within 10,000 miles. But, as was his current circumstance, money, the promise of women and fame had too much a hold on all four of them for anyone to say "piss off" and head back home to England. Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, if one went home, they'd ALL go home.

John watched as Brian interrupted the moron and the woman of his dreams. He threw an elbow into Paul's side to wordlessly alert him to the situation. Paul lifted up his brown eyes and tried to force a smile.

"Another one?"

"No man. Totally different. She's cutting that audition manager a new asshole."

"Good. Maybe we can get the fuck out of here. I'm beginning to think I made a wrong move when I chose a band over plumber's apprentice."

John looked at Paul. "You? A plumber? I'd pay to see your ass rooting out some loo in the low rent district."

"Piss off....," he answered. "So what's going on?"

John filled him in. Ringo and George were both still half asleep, cigarettes hanging off their lower lips. No one made any attempt to pay attention when their manager approached them.

"Get those bloody fags out of your mouths," Brian said to them. "You are all clean cut, working class boys from across the pond – and well paid to act your parts. So sit up and pay attention."

John made an obscene gesture. Ringo turned his back to him continuing to smoke and George leaned forward and gazed at Brian with his middle finger slowly working its way up to his temple.

Paul, ever the diplomat, made a valiant attempt to appear slightly more involved. "Look Brian, we aren't trying to make your life hell, but this is getting out of hand. We've spent 2 hours evaluating 200 girls who want to have a role in this movie. Really, it doesn't matter. We don't even know what the movie is about. Just have that little audition manager pick out the best of the bunch and send everyone on their way."

Brian sighed and pulled up a chair. John knew they were about to be lectured from the Brian Epstein Guide to Managing a Famous British Band. John wished he could order about a dozen Scotch and Cokes and call it a day.

"Boys," he started.

Ringo, George and John turned the switches off and began cruising down the avenues of their brains. Paul pretended to listen and caught the gist of the whole thing.

They were famous. Yes, he remembered that. There were politics involved in being famous. Yes, he remembered that. It was sometimes necessary to go through these things for the publicity. Yes, he remembered that.

"Just like a politician. You have to, figuratively speaking, kiss the babies and hug the old ladies. Half these girls are daughters of Hollywood big-wigs. We can't piss them off. We must pretend we are gentlemen."

"Thank God we've had lessons...." John piped in. "Now shut the hell up and tell me who that bird is."

"Who?"

"The one who is still going off on the audition manager."

Brian turned and jumped up. "Oh shit."

John sat totally upright for the first time all day as he saw her coming towards them at a determined gait. The audition manager followed her, mumbling.

Brian was about to intercept her when John looked at him sternly. "Back off, big man. Let her have her say."

If there was one thing Brian knew, it was when to absolutely listen to John. He could manipulate the other three on an individual basis, but John alone or the 4 of them enmasse, well, that was the ballgame. He let out a heavy breath.

John stood to watch her walk towards them. He had seen plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous. He had HAD plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous, but this pissed off bird was in a class by herself. She was nothing like the girls he normally went after – nothing like the birds of his own turf. He was, at this stage of his life, attracted to "bee-bees", Beautiful, Brainless and Sexy chicks who knew better than to open their mouths for anything except a blow-job. After a brief affair consisting of plenty of sex and perhaps a late night supper or two, maybe an autograph or an album, it was less of a problem to diplomatically dump a BB than it was a hometown girl or some mate's sister.

John had his exit line and delivered it with the precision of Olivier playing Hamlet. He could conjure up this little boy lost persona, with a pained "this is going to hurt me more than it is you" look and begin his speech. "I'm SOOO sorry, but I've realized that I really DO love my wife and I don't know how to thank you for helping me see the honest truth. I have to go back to her. Your unselfishness and honesty showed me what I must do. I know you'll understand. I can't tell you what you have done for me. I will never forget you (insert name or not). "

And it worked. 99% of the time. The other 1%, Brian took care of.

All at once, she was in front of them. Directly in between Paul and George. John shifted in his chair to look at her.

"Look, I know this is all fun and games, but it's 95 degrees out there in the hallway and girls are dropping like flies. There's no water, no air. C'mon---hasn't everyone had enough?"

Brian walked over to her and extended a courtly British hand. "I'm sorry Ms. but you will have to get back into line or leave the audition. You are causing a disruption."

The young woman looked at Brian then beseechingly at the four English lads that were sitting before her. John, for once in his life, was speechless.

Paul stood and faced her. "We didn't know..." was all he could muster. She was not amused. Not amused at all with any of them. George turned his eyes toward her and remained quiet.

"Well, now you do," she said without emotion, then sighed. "Look, I know you are the biggest things to come out of England since Earl Grey, but it's really hot out there. Can you put an end to this?"

George finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Her brown eyes flashed at him. "Does it matter? I'm just trying to get those other girls out of the heat."

"Why do you care?" John blurted out, his cigarette smoke exiting his mouth.

She sighed and was going to speak when Brian returned with a police officer and the audition manager.

"Hold off...." John eyed him.

The police officer stared at the woman for a minute before saying, "Joie?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. It's me. I'm just trying to get those girls out of the heat, Mr. Watson. Or get them some water or something. I know they are all probably daughters of movie studios, but they are melting just the same."

Officer Watson turned to Brian. "I know this girl. She doesn't mean any harm. And after all, she has a point...."

John and Brian exchanged looks. Brian knew it well.

"We will get the girls out of the heat and move this along...." He answered properly.

"Thank you." Was all she said. And she turned to leave.

She didn't give a shit that they were the Beatles. She didn't give a shit if she got a bit part in their first movie. She just didn't give a shit about them. What she cared about was 90 remaining strangers, struggling in the heat.

John was enamored.

The audition manager was sweating profusely. He was too old for this shit. He had been around the greats---Barrymore, Hepburn, Gable. These punks from somewhere in England might make every girl wet her pants, but all they were was trouble to him.

Brian pulled him aside and a plan was made to move the line of girls along so they could get a look at the Lads from Liverpool and Brian would pick the 15 or so they needed in bit parts. The others would be given a ticket to the final concert in the film. All Brian knew for sure is that there was going to be a concert at the end. And 100 seats were to be occupied by the offspring of Hollywood elites. The other seats were to be auctioned off to fans through the fan club.

This is what he knew....as the screenwriter typed away, tucked safely back in London.

"Mal...." John groused at their assistant. "get her number....."

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #beatlemania #Beatles fanfic #george harrison fanfic #i saw her standing there

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vibrantbirdy · 1 year

Note

Hey lovely!! Could you do a Cassian Andor x (f) reader? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. I like the whole “you annoy me and piss me off” relationship that ends up in a situation where they are stuck together for something and end up in a fight where they suddenly realize they have feelings! I love allowing creators to have their own space to create, so if you wanna do something else entirely, please feel free too!!

❤️ take care of yourself

Thank you SO much, this is a great request! I am a sucker for enemies to lovers too. I hope you don't mind, but I had a similar Cassian request from Anon at the same time about Cassian x Reader having to go undercover to Canto Bight as a couple which I thought would work well with yours so I merged them. (Anon, I also hope you don't mind the merging and that you can find this ok as I don't know if/how I can reply to two asks in the same post?)

Also, I want to thank everyone who has interacted with my writing so far.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Keep 'em coming.

-Birdy

Title: Charade Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Enemies to lovers; Action/adventure; Fluff Warnings: Moderate sexuality; moderate swearing; mild violence/peril; brief mentions of loss of family/friends by Reader. Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 10k (oops)

Summary: You and Captain Cassian Andor have to negotiate your personal differences and difficult history when you are both assigned to go on an undercover operation to the Galaxy's playground for the super-rich, Canto Bight, as a married couple.

Prologue

Your first mission as a spy for the Rebel Alliance has taken you to Carida. The objective; to infiltrate and sabotage the Imperial Naval Yard there then get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

As it turns out, the mission is doomed from the outset. An Imperial mole who somehow dug their way into the very heart of Rebel Command on Yavin 4 has alerted the Empire to your plans.

Your team of six hardly made it five kilometers from the rust-bucket of a ship Rebel Leadership had assigned to you when you were intercepted by an Imperial patrol.

The firefight was brief. The Stormtroopers were green, even more so than you. You wondered with a pang of unexpected sympathy whether they'd come fresh from the Imperial Academy which was also based on Carida. There were far more seasoned combatants amongst your own unit and the fight was over before it had really began.

Still, that's when you'd lost poor Lily to a Trooper's blaster bolt. You're not even sure he was aiming at her. She'd fallen against you and you'd twisted your ankle as you'd spun to the ground following a futile attempt to hold her upright as if that would negate the fatal injury she'd just sustained.

Now, as you limp up the ridge of the hill you feel a swell of relief as you see that you are almost back to the clearing where the ship is stowed. But as you catch a glimpse of the hunk of old metal, you realise with horror that you are not out of the woods yet.

The Empire uses decrepit shuttles just like this one for for training cadets at the Academy. That's why High Command had insisted you take it - to blend in. You'd nicknamed it Tenacity because the old girl just wouldn't die and the name had stuck.

The ancient vessel doesn't do anything quickly until it's up in the air. Then she's sharp as a razor. But she has a complicated manual override for emergency take-offs whereby the crew need pump fuel round the engines a few times using an externally stowed generator.

Good for training Imperial cadets for problem solving and how to make the best of old tech. Not so good for spies who need a quick exit.

You're the engineer, it should have been you who hooked the ship up to the generator. But with your injury you are too slow and so the others went on ahead to start without you. You are sure you gave correct and clear instructions, but in his panic, it looks like Rogdul has connected the ports up all wrong. Dangerously so.

Overhead, you hear the scream of Imperial TIE fighters and you launch yourself into the nearby undergrowth. You count them. Four. They are searching the valley for you. They pass, but they'll be back in less than a minute. It's impossible that they haven't spotted the ship in the forest clearing.

From your hiding place you hear the ship's engines burst into life. Inside, you imagine Rogdul and Anya carrying out hurried pre-flight checks. Baslin is probably taking up position in the gunner's hatch, hoping to see some action.

No, you think. Not like this.

But you can reach the ship and fix the problem. You know you can. The whole thing will blow if you don't and that's not an option.

You dart out towards the Tenacity, but someone intercepts you, slamming into you with a body tackle and dragging you roughly back to cover through the mud. Soon, you're seated up against them, your back pressed into their chest, their arms and legs wrapped around you like a vice.

It's Captain Cassian Andor, you realise, your superior officer and the lead operative on this mission. You'd completely forgotten that he was even further behind the hasty retreat than you, taking up the rear and keeping watch for more Imperial patrols on your tail.

You don't care who it is. You struggle and writhe furiously against him, desperate to get away and stop the impending disaster you can see unfolding before your eyes. But Andor holds you fast against him as if you were a child having a tantrum.

"Let me go, I can fix it!" you scream over the howl of the returning TIEs.

"You can't, it's too late!" Andor shouts back into your ear.

As if on cue, the generator connected to the side of the ship starts to spark wildly, just as you knew it would. You watch helplessly as the fuel cells hidden within the Tenacity ignite with a deafening bang and whoosh of flame as the ship goes up in a hellish fireball.

A second later, the TIEs make their second pass. There's no need for them to bother firing their weapons. The devastation from the explosion is catastrophic.

They do it anyway.

Two years later

You are on approach to Canto Bight, Cantonica's capital city - the Galaxy's playground for the wealthy.

Captain Cassian Andor is in the pilot's seat, following instructions from the flight control tower. You'll sit down in a moment, but right now, you are desperately trying to sort the sticking-up collar of his cream shirt which is made of expensive looking silk.

Irritated, he tries to bat your hand away, but you are persistent.

"Kriff's sake, Andor, just let me do it," you mutter.

"I'm not a child," he says petulantly, but he relents.

There. Now he looks the part in his fine clothes. He's tidied his short beard and moustache so that the stubble is cropped neatly to the sharp contours of his chiselled face. His dark brown hair is neatly parted at the side, although it's perhaps still a little long...

You don't look too shabby either, bedecked in a knee-length silk day dress of sky blue, accompanied by a cloak of dusky purple which is draped elegantly across your shoulders. The Rebellion went to great lengths to fund this operation and they certainly didn't skimp on the provision of suitable attire. It's essential that you fit in.

"I look fine, you look fine, stop fussing," Andor says dismissively, noticing as you smooth out a couple of annoying wrinkles in your dress and swish out the skirt to make sure the fabric is lying properly.

"I think you look lovely," K-2SO, Andor's droid and almost constant companion, pipes up from the co-pilot's chair, "and that Cassian looks like he's swallowed an Endor fire hornet."

"You don't think," Andor retorts, "That's just circuits misfiring randomly in your head..."

K-2 turns to you with a mechanical whirr, and if he had the ability to conjure expressions, this one would read:

See? I told you.

You stifle a laugh and drop down into the passenger seat behind the droid.

The first time you'd met the hulking re-programmed Imperial security droid had been that fateful day on Carida. You and Andor had shivered miserably in silence for hours by the wreckage of the Tenacity as the rain lashed down, making little difference to the fearsome fuel-accelerated flames which devoured the ship. The Empire, in their arrogance, didn't bother to send out a patrol to check the site.

Then, late into the night, K-2 had finally arrived in Cassian's own ship under cover of darkness. With your injured ankle having swollen to twice its usual size, the gargantuan droid had lumbered over, scooped you up, and carried you with surprising gentleness into the vessel. Ever since, you've always enjoyed his company and his sardonic wit.

Your relationship with Andor, on the other hand, has been tumultuous since its inception. He's always been frosty and stand-offish with you. You sometimes wonder if your presence reminds him of the disaster on Carida the way his does to you.

Whatever his reasoning, his uncompromising demeanour has always brought out your worst qualities when you're around him, especially your stubbornness and your dislike of being told what to do. You've never gone so far as insubordination under his command, but when you disagree with him, you have a unique knack for finding your own way to interpret his orders. This always has the infinitely satisfying effect of winding him up.

Anyway, this time won't be like Carida. And despite your personal differences, you and Andor have worked together successfully - though admittedly never harmoniously - many times since.

Your objective is simple enough. You're looking for a business man, Dreylan Balgo. He's not yet thirty, but he's the biggest supplier of Imperial weapons in the Galaxy. You need to obtain his biometric signature and transmit it back to Alliance High Command. They'll then use it to access the designs and blueprints of the weapons his company is designing for the Empire and eventually send agents in as factory workers to sabotage various key elements.

As Andor and K-2 make the final approach to Canto Bight you look out the window. Below you, the dark sea glitters and ahead, the shining spires of the beautiful city glow golden in the evening sun.

You close your eyes as a flash of a childhood memory dances across your brain. You came here with your parents once when you were nine or ten. That's partly why you've been chosen for this mission. You used to move in these circles.

K-2 drops the shuttle neatly on to the landing pad which juts out over the water.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the droid quips as you exit.

It's winter on Cantonica. As you step out onto the platform, the breeze is chilly but pleasantly fresh and you can hear the steady crash of waves against the cliffs below you.

At the entrance to the structure, you pause a minute to take in the monolithic doors, ornately carved and inlaid with beautiful coloured glass which catches the light of the setting sun with dazzling beauty. The doors open and you and Andor step into the elaborate marble halls of Canto Bight's most luxurious resort as newlyweds Mr and Mrs Race Pax.

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

The suite you are staying in is as lavish as the rest of the place, but it is small. The coiffeurs of the Rebel Alliance do have their limits.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suddenly stopping your own unpacking to observe Andor throwing an assortment of pillows and blankets onto the ground.

"I'm taking the floor like a gentleman."

"Don't be stupid," you snort, "What if the maid comes in and sees this..." you gesture to the collection of blankets on the floor, searching for a fitting description "...gentleman's pillow fort?"

The most important thing on this mission is that your cover needs to be believable. And, perhaps tantamount to that, if Andor is tired, he'll be even grumpier than usual and you don't think you could deal with that.

He straightens and sighs, repeatedly slapping the cushion he has been plumping with unnecessary force.

One thing you and Andor have never been around each other is shy. Having spent weeks at a time together in miserable, hastily erected camps, cramped transports, and underground bunkers in the service of the Alliance, the necessity of living in close quarters with him stamped that out quick. You've learned to move in each other's personal space with ease and usually without any awkwardness, so you can't fathom why he's making a meal of it now.

He looks at you defiantly for a moment longer before accepting defeat.

"Fine," he says, as he starts to pick up the elements of his makeshift camp bed and throwing them back on the bed, "Fine, but if you snore, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

"If I snore?!"

That was rich.

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

You and Andor are attending one of Canto Bight's seemingly infinite evening soirees for the rich and powerful. A colourful sea of people in lavish dress are engaged in polite conversation and enjoying expensive beverages in one of the grandest ballrooms you've ever seen.

Dreylan Balgo is here, somewhere. Tonight is a chance to observe his behaviour, get to know his habits and make an initial introduction if possible. Anything that could help you create an opportunity to obtain his biometrics over the next few days.

You are wearing a teal halter-neck gown, a drink in one hand while the other rests elegantly on top of Andor's arm. The silk of his plush evening jacket is smooth under your fingertips and you absent-mindedly fuss with it as you scan the crowd for your target.

Someone says your name. Your real name.

Andor stiffens next to you.

Trying to keep your composure you turn and relief floods through you as you realise it's one of your mother's oldest friends, Lady Sen Prya. It's been years since you've seen her and she must be in her eighties by now, but she hasn't changed one bit. She is adorned in the most grandiose yellow satin gown you've ever seen, complete with matching gloves. Her long white hair falls, twisted in an elaborate braid, all the way down to her waist.

Quickly, you take her gloved hand and squeeze it gently, a subtle message you hope she can read.

"Oh I'm sorry you must be mistaken," you say politely and introduce yourself as Mrs Pax.

Understanding flickers across Prya's face. She always was sharp as a knife and time doesn't seem to have dulled that characteristic one jot.

"Ah of course, child. Forgive me," she says tactfully with all the grace and ease you remember from your childhood, "You look very like a dear old friend of mine. It's nice to meet you. I am Lady Sen Prya."

She reaches a hand up and touches your cheek affectionately with a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then, she reaches out to Andor who brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently.

"Race Pax, it's a pleasure," he says, and there is a genuine warmth in his voice.

He appears to have relaxed somewhat and you are sure it's because he probably recognises Prya's name. She has been funding various elements of the Rebellion for years.

"Now, is there anyone you need an introduction to, before I retire to bed like the old woman I am?"

Prya stresses introduction as if its a code word. And it is.

You look up at Andor questioningly. You hate to ask his permission for anything, but he is the senior operative here. He nods once in ascent.

"Dreylan Balgo," you say.

Lady Prya's eyes light up and you can tell that she is delighted to learn who your indented mark is.

"Well then, follow me, young lovers."

Andor gives that rare smile of his, the one you see so infrequently which reaches all the way up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. He likes Prya. Everyone does. That's what makes her so dangerous for the Empire.

You wind through the crowd, following Prya as if she is golden star leading you to your destination. You're suddenly nervous and although you'd never admit it, there is something comforting about how Andor's large hand entwines with your own as he follows your lead through the busy party.

"Dreylan! My boy!" Prya's voice is clear as crystal and cuts through the party hubbub with ease.

Balgo turns from a conversation he is having with several other men. He is a handsome man, dressed in an evening suit of black velvet. He is tall and elegant with piercing blue eyes and a mop of sandy blonde curls.

"Ah! Lady Prya! What a delight to see you," he says gregariously, stooping low to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"And you, my lad," she replies with gracious ease, "Now, I want you to meet a couple of newly weds, Mr and Mrs Pax. I'm certain young Pax here would be interested in discussing business with you boys, although I, for one, find it all very dull."

There is a ripple of smug, amused laughter from the circle of men, and you join in only because you know Prya could negotiate most of these idiots out of any of business asset of theirs she chose to.

Balgo turns his attention to you first, appraising you thoroughly before taking your hand and kissing it with an elaborate flourish. You let out a silly little laugh, ensuring your voice carries an appropriate blend of affluence and air headedness.

Less than a minute you've been in this man's company and you can already read him like a holo novel.

He then greets Andor with boisterous joviality.

"Congratulations, Pax, what a stunning creature you have caught in your net."

Andor chuckles amiably, shaking Balgo's hand.

"It's good to meet you," he says warmly.

This time, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and you notice that his hand, which has been sitting lightly round your waist, shifts down to just under your hip.

Lady Prya retires to bed soon after, flashing you a wink and a dazzling smile as she sweeps from the room, an ageless vision in yellow.

The conversation and drinks flow. All night, you sense Balgo's eyes on you. Alliance High Command don't officially approve of so-called "honey-traps," and neither do you, but you see no harm in cultivating Balgo's delusion if it opens another window of opportunity. You don't discourage him, directly meeting the furtive glances he casts your way when he thinks Andor isn't looking.

Throughout the evening Andor proves why he is so good at his job. His ability to observe and imitate behaviour is uncanny. He adopts with ease that careless, raucous affectation that only young, wealthy men seem to possess. He hasn't taken more than a few sips of his wine, but he mirrors Balgo's increasingly boisterous body language and bawdy humour expertly.

By the end of the night the two are stomping around the dwindling party with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying and laughing and singing like idiots.

The night has been a success. You've created a rapport with Balgo.

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

"Prya was a friend of your family's?" Andor's voice comes unexpectedly from the darkness, "What happened to them?"

It's very late - or early, depending on how your look at it - and you and Andor have just fallen, exhausted, into bed.

You are resting on your left side, as always, and you hear him roll over beside you, so that he is looking at your back.

You are surprised by how accurately Andor has read into the situation with so little information. You don't see any harm in telling him.

"My father owned an agricultural engineering works. One day the Empire came to his factory and asked him to design and build components for some machine they were building, probably a weapon. He refused. They executed him on the spot and took the factory anyway. I did my best, but we struggled and my mother died a few years after of a broken heart. That's when I left to join the Rebellion."

Andor shuffles, the bed shifting beneath you both and you can tell that he's propped himself up on his elbow. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

"You've never told me that before."

"You never bothered to ask," you reply defensively, "I know what you think, what you all think. That I'm a rich brat who ran off to join the Rebellion just to piss off her wealthy parents."

There's a silence.

"Turns out you're only half right..." you finish with a rather bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

To your surprise, Andor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, before you reach across your body to place your hand on top of his, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Cassian," you say.

You rarely use his first name and it feels odd, but not unnatural on your tongue.

"Goodnight."

He rolls back over and is soon snoring softly. You don't fall asleep for a long while, not until you hear the birds begin their morning chorus and the light of dawn starts to creep through the open window with the sea breeze.

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

You and Andor spend the next morning trying to locate Balgo but he's nowhere to be found. You suspect he is probably in his bed nursing a very sore head.

The last place you try is the Fathier racetrack, although you know there are no races on today. You are glad. You can't stand to see these magnificent animals forced to run like that.

Even so, you are unable to refrain from grabbing Andor's hand in excitement and dragging him over to the nearest pen where a mother and foal are resting in a patch of sunshine.

"A baby," you find yourself saying, stupidly.

Andor laughs quietly at the ridiculous, breathless joy in your voice. You wonder if he's making fun of you, but when you turn to him his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous light.

He gestures to a nearby handler, adopting Pax's air of arrogant entitlement with frightening ease.

"My wife would like to see the animal."

"Of course, sir."

The handler coaxes the foal over and it's tall enough already to reach other the fence. You pat the creature on its nose and between its ridiculously long ears and it nuzzles sweetly into your hand.

"Mr Pax?" You say as you turn to Andor and realise he's hovering a few feet back from the fence.

You gesticulate to him to come over. When else will he get the opportunity to interact with such an animal?

"Oh no, I can see fine from here," he replies with a shake of his head.

Surely not, you think, and you feel your mouth twist into a devilish smirk.

"Are you scared?" You tease.

You sidle up to him and entwine your arm in his before stretching up to whisper into his ear so that only he can hear you.

"Captain Andor?"

Unable to resist your direct challenge he offers you his hand with a resigned, slightly nervous grin. You take it, leading him back to the fence. You guide his palm up to the baby Fathier's nose and the creature sniffs it curiously. You then press it gently against the animal's long forehead. When you let go, Andor continues to stroke the animal softly, his face lit up with an expression of childish wonder.

"Thank you, husband," you say when you both turn to leave.

He gives you a subtle wink and you feel a sudden rush of something close to fondness for him.

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

That afternoon is spent sneaking around the resort's service corridors. You are right at the top of the building and the corridors are narrow and low. It's ridiculously hot and you feel stupid carrying out serious espionage in yet another one of the seemingly endless supply of dresses you've been provided. This one is a horrible pink colour that clings all over and you hate it which is why you've chosen it for this dirty, sweaty work. You know you need to wear something suitable for Canto Bight's grand halls in case anyone sees you on your way to or from the job, but it just feels so unnatural.

Hopefully this shouldn't take too long. All you need to do is wire in a small signal booster to the resort's communications lines. Then, when you obtain Balgo's biometric signature, the data pad can send a transmission to a commandeered, disused Republic satellite to confirm that the sample has been collected successfully.

Actually transmitting the scrambled data to the Rebel base on Yavin 4 needs considerably more power which means, at some point, you and Andor are going to have to hike out to Cantonica's main transmitter mast and send the signal manually from there.

You'd flown past the huge pylon on your way in to land at the resort. It's a monumental thing and you feel a rush of nausea at the very thought of having to climb it...but that's a problem for another day, you decide.

Your head is buried in a control panel, and you're trying to explain to Andor why you need to use a slightly different width of cable than originally planned but he interrupts you mid-flow.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"I can do it," you snap back.

"Then just do it, I don't care how."

Charming as ever, the morning's hard won truce between you apparently forgotten. He's nervous and so are you, so you try not to hold it against him. He just wants to get out of here quickly.

There's a sound, and with horror, you realise it's the service elevator doors hissing open. A stern male voice follows soon after.

"Lars, If you're up here slouching again, I'm going to dock your pay."

You and Andor both freeze, staring at each other like Loth cats caught in the headlights of a speeder. Then, without warning he grabs you at the back of your knee, hitching your leg up to rest on his hip, his hand travelling further up the underside of your thigh and underneath your dress as he shoves you against the wall and pushes his body firmly against yours. The other hand flies up to your face, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone.

Your gasp of surprise is muffled as he crashes his lips hard against yours. It takes you only a millisecond to understand what he's doing and you kiss him back, twisting your fingers tightly through the locks of dark hair at the back of his head.

At this, a soft groan resonates in his throat and you are almost certain this is unintended. You feel a flash of satisfaction that you've managed to affect him in such a way, then scold yourself for being unable to refrain from point scoring with him, even now.

"Get out of here," Andor growls at the hapless employee, pretending he has only just noticed the man's presence.

His voice is low and husky. As he speaks, you feel his fingertips press into the flesh your thigh. Suddenly, the combination of his proximity and his heady, masculine, familiar scent is overwhelming, and you feel something hot and fierce coil in the pit of your abdomen.

Andor - Pax - has broken away from your lips to berate the man, but he hardly deigns to turn his head to look at the unfortunate employee. You take a moment to study the fine details of his face up close. His pupils are dilated, making his dark eyes gleam like midnight. His nostrils flare slightly with heightened breathing. An uncharacteristic blush is travelling up his neck into his cheeks. You can feel his heart slamming against his chest and your own.

"Oh, uhh... yes...of course," the poor employee sounds terribly embarrassed and all the previous managerial authority has vanished entirely from his voice.

"My apologies sir..."

The man actually stands on his tiptoes and cranes his neck to see your face through the tousled mess you've made of Andor's hair before addressing you directly with a courteous nod of his head.

"Madam."

You raise your eyebrows at him politely and give him a ridiculous little wave with your free hand, the one that's not woven through Andor's hair.

You hear the employee blundering off back to the service elevator and the machinery clunks as the doors close and he disappears.

Andor's forehead is gracing your own and neither you nor he move for a moment. It's just long enough to catch the slow glint of recognition in each other's eyes that something new has passed between you and you both know it.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he finally breaks away, running a hand through his hair as if to sweep away the feel of your fingers there, "I didn't have time to ask nicely."

"It's fine," you say, smoothing your stupid dress down and clearing your throat, "Good thinking."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, as you return to your work in silence.

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

Evening has fallen and Andor and Balgo are talking animatedly at the bar. The resort is hosting another of its grand parties. You sit with Lady Prya at a nearby table. You don't talk about your new life and she doesn't ask, but the conversation is easy and comfortable and you feel a rush of gratitude that your paths have crossed again.

Once Balgo has left to mingle with other guests, you give Prya an apologetic smile and cross over to the bar where you drape yourself around Andor's shoulders. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone else, these merely look to be the actions of a young couple.

In reality, you are providing cover as Andor works quickly with Balgo's empty glass. Earlier, he'd lined the outside of the receptacle with a special gel that picks up biometric data. Once settled on a surface, it is almost imperceptible to the touch.

Andor attaches, then tears away the transfer strip from the glass and quickly places it down on the data pad's receiver. A rather sad and weary boop from the device confirms that it hasn't picked up Balgo's fingerprints.

"Kriff," Andor curses quietly in frustration, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give it," you hiss.

Uncertainly, Andor passes the various components of the device to you. You snatch them from his hand, shoving the bits and bobs into your pockets and stride away before he can stop you. The satin of your dress swishes a melody to the click of your heels. You hear Andor swear under his breath.

As you walk, your eyes scan the room, searching for your target. There. A flash of golden hair at the other side of the room. You stalk Balgo through the crowd, waiting for the right moment.

You make your approach, taking out a small mirror from your pocket and quickly squeezing a blob of the clear transfer gel onto your finger before making a performance of patting the strange substance on your mouth like lipstick. You snap the mirror closed and move in for the kill.

"Oh Mr Balgo, I am so sorry!" you exclaim, feigning embarrassment as you collide with his shoulder, jolting him arm so that he spills red wine all down the front of his pristine, white suit jacket.

"Please, Mrs Pax, it's no matter, really," he says as he stays your pawing hands and swoops down to greet you with a peck you on the cheek.

"I really am sorry, Dreylan, I will pay for the damage."

"Nonsense," he scoffs amicably, his chest visibly puffing out as you address him familiarly by his first name, "Now, where has your husband of yours got to? The fool surely hasn't let you out of his sight in that dress?"

Balgo is right, it is a nice dress. Your favourite so far in fact. It is tailored in beautiful crimson satin with a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and a plunging neckline.

"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure."

You lean in and whisper in his ear.

"But he's not here."

He smirks back at you and you see his icy blue eyes light up.

"Shall we get some air on the balcony?" He suggests.

Well, what an unexpected turn of events, you think sarcastically as you accept the proposal with an external show of flirtatious grace.

Out on the ballroom's grandiose veranda with Balgo, you look across Cantonica's seemingly endless, dark waters. The sea breeze is cold, and the businessman drapes his jacket round your shoulders. You laugh at the right times, interject an asinine comment here and there as Balgo talks about business, and allow him to explain things to you that you already know without complaint.

When the timing feels apt, and the balcony is otherwise deserted, you reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. He returns it, placing his hands on your hips. Balgo is attractive enough, there's no doubt about that, and the kiss is far from unpleasant... but it's only a means to an end. There's no passion to it, and you can't help but compare it against the ardent fervour of Andor's embrace. The heat of it.

As you pull back from Balgo with a suitably flushed smile, the gossamer curtains behind him shift in the breeze and over his shoulder you catch a glimpse of Andor across the cavernous ballroom.

He's so far away, but you see him clear as day. His eyes are searing holes in Balgo's back before meeting yours with a look of disdain. He downs his drink and slams the glass on the bar's marble counter-top, stalking off towards the elevator.

You suddenly feel a pang of irrational guilt which makes you furious with him. You're doing your job. The one he failed to do.

Balgo's self-satisfied look of victory does nothing for your vexed and flustered disposition. He offers to go and source a drink for you both. Keeping your composure - you are a spy after all - you smile sweetly at him and agree.

When he is gone, you make sure no one else is around before you take out the transfer paper from your pocket and subtly dab it on your lips. Surreptitiously, you whip the data pad out of your other pocket - thank the stars you'd insisted on dresses with pockets - and press the paper against the reader.

You wait, visualising what the signal might look like if it was something tangible and visible. A little bolt of lightning, perhaps, arcing to the closest service hatch, climbing its way up wires and cables, escaping out into the cold night and up into orbit and the decrepit Republic satellite.

Finally, the device gives you a cheerful bleep and lights up green.

Success.

You'd like to see Balgo's smug face fall when he returns to find you've disappeared, but you don't want this to go any further than necessary. You've got what you need and your sudden absence can easily be explained away as a young wife's crisis of conscience. You leave his jacket on a nearby chair and make your way up to your suite.

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

When you get back to the room, you can practically feel the heat radiating off Andor as he rips his shirt over his head dramatically in the process of undressing for bed.

Trying to ignore his silent seething, you turn away from him and lift your hair away from the nape of your neck. He automatically moves behind you to help you unzip your dress and, despite his clear agitation, his hands are gentle. The red gown drops to the floor, leaving you standing in your flimsy under-slip.

You turn back to look at Andor, taking in the familiar outline of his body. He's not a huge man, but the muscles are strong and taut in his torso, back and arms. Littered here and there are scars, testament to a hard life lived dangerously. The moonlight streaming through the bedroom window gives his tan skin an ethereal glow and illuminates the sharp, handsome features of his face.

It's not that you don't find each other attractive. You both know that there's always been some unspoken tension between you. But the tempestuousness of your personal and working relationship has always prevented you from falling into anything that might be a mistake.

You are suddenly keenly aware of the obviousness your own form as your underdress clings to the curves and planes of your body. You can sense Andor's eyes roaming across it in a way you're sure they never have before.

You think - maybe - something changed with that kiss you shared this afternoon. An embrace which began as a charade and ended as something else.

"That was a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing to do!" he finally explodes, interrupting your reverie and bringing you back down to reality with a thud.

"It was a calculated risk," you retort, furious with him and internally embarrassed by your silly romantic notions.

"And," you stretch across to the nearby dresser to pick up the data pad where Balgo's biometric data is safely stored to brandish it under Andor's nose, "And it worked."

"In case you'd forgotten, Balgo thinks you're here with your husband..."

"That's why it worked!" You exclaim, "By the Force, men know so little about their own species..."

"You could have blown our cover, the whole operation!"

That riles you. Why can't he just congratulate you on a job well done? You've just saved this damn operation. You have what you need now. All you need to do is transmit the data and you can both get out of here.

"I know what this is," you say, your voice rising in chorus with your anger.

"Oh please, please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

There's a heavy silence.

"Jealous?!" Andor scoffs finally, but the strength of his conviction has faded from his voice, "Of what?"

"You can't stand that I kissed him."

Andor steps towards you, brows furrowed, eyes alight with something that's not quite anger.

"He's welcome to you," he seethes, "The last thing I need is some highly strung rich girl playing at being a spy."

The words sting, especially after you opened up to him about your parents the other night. Even as the vague idea of restraint flashes through your mind, impulsion compels you to raise a hand to strike him across the face.

He catches you by the wrist as you lash out, pulling you even closer to him so that his sharp nose is almost touching yours.

"And so what if I am?" He continues and the change in direction is so unexpected that you are rendered speechless.

His tone is low and dangerous and his deep, brown eyes are wild, roaming your face desperately for an answer that never comes.

"What if I am jealous? What if I don't want his filthy, Imperial hands all over you? So what?"

Andor's face suddenly softens, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression of genuine turmoil. It's a display of vulnerability you've never seen from him before. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly but he doesn't let go.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"What difference does it make to you? Ever since Carida... You despise me."

It's not true, you suddenly realise. It's never been true. Not really.

You want to tell him you've never blamed him for what happened on Carida. The actions of the mole? Not his fault. The failure of that sorry excuse for a ship? Not him either. Somewhere along the way, your perception of him became warped and refracted through the prism of your own feelings of guilt.

You know he saved your life that day. He must have gone through hell in the aftermath too, dragged up in front of various different elements of High Command to explain why only two of his six operatives made it back alive over and over and over again.

More than this, you want to explain that while you were kissing Balgo tonight, you were thinking only of him. You want to say how when you took a shower earlier and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you'd seen the faint, red imprints of his fingertips still lingering like little tattoos on your skin and that you hope they never fade.

But you're just so angry with him for always having to be such a stubborn, patronising, hard-nosed bastard. So you say none of these things.

You know how much it must have taken for him to admit feelings for you, no matter how clumsy and ill-timed the execution. This man who always holds his cards so close to his chest has shown you his hand. He's given you ammunition and all you can think of in this moment is shooting him down with it.

"That's right," you say, leaning in close and whispering spitefully into his ear, "I despise you Cassian Andor."

You regret it immediately. Andor drops your wrist as if he's been burned. As he steps away from you, he looks completely lost. His eyes are cast down at the floor, full of humiliation and hurt. By the time they return to your face, they have darkened like storm clouds.

"Then, I'm glad we understand each other."

You open your mouth to say something, to take back your words and undo the damage you've wrought with your temper. Nothing comes out.

As Andor turns away, you reach out for him, try to catch him by the elbow. He shrugs you off angrily and storms out of the room.

He doesn't come back until late. You pretend to be asleep as he quietly slips into the bed beside you.

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

When dusk falls the next evening, and with Balgo's biometric stored safely on the data pad in your pocket, you and Andor set out for Cantonica's main transmitter.

You want to use the journey time to explain yourself, to apologise to him and admit your own feelings. But you are so ashamed of your careless words the night before that you don't even know how to begin.

Continuing the trend of the day, you walk the ten kilometers together in almost complete silence, trudging in single file along the rocky coastline.

Even so, being out in nature and away from the city feels almost healing to you. Most tourists only see the rugged countryside of Cantonica from the confines of a shuttle. It has a wild, mountainous, windswept type of beauty that you find exhilarating. After days stuck inside the gilded cage of Canto Bight, it is wonderful to be out in the elements, even if it is rather cold and damp.

Night has decsended by the time you reach the transmitter. It is set precariously on the cliff edge, so close to the tumultuous waters below, it seems like a freak wave could wash it away at any moment.

It looks even more imposing than you remember. A huge durasteel spike with a narrow, fragile looking caged ladder stretching up into the sky leading to a high metal gangway which looks just as ancient.

You go first, and as you climb higher, your hands and feet start to feel fuzzy and your breathing becomes rapid, escaping through your lips in short, sharp pants. You've never been good with heights.

The icy wind starts to whip unpleasantly around you and you grip the ladder fiercely with each laboured step. The damp air has made the metal slick and you gasp as your boot slips on one of the rungs.

You catch yourself before you fall, but even so, you are relieved when Andor comes up behind you and positions himself so that his solid chest presses reassuringly against your back as you take a moment to steady yourself.

"Take your time," he says and his tone is gentle, "You're ok."

You nod and exhale deeply. Steeling yourself, you continue your ascent. You can do this.

You finally reach the top of the ladder and crawl up onto the round platform which encircles the pylon of the transmitter to provide access to where the mechanics of the structure are stored.

You think for a moment that this experience is going to be marginally better than the climb up the rickety ladder. That foolish hope is soon proven mistaken. The durasteel grating beneath your feet feels precarious. There are rusted gaps in the metal here and there and your stomach flips every time you look down. The wind is stronger up here, wild and blustery, and you feel horrendously vulnerable. You just want to get the job done and get down from this death trap as soon as possible.

Andor helps you lift the heavy panel off the front of the control box. You sigh with relief. It's a standard set up, one you've seen hundreds of times before and it's easy to bypass. You set to work infiltrating the system and once you're done, you wait in suspense as the data pad blinks text at you.

TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING....

TRANSMISSION SENT.

"It's gone!"

Instinctively, you turn to flash a smile of triumph towards Andor, and you are relieved when one corner of his mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly in return. You wonder if, on the way back to the city, you might find the courage to try and make amends for your rough words the previous night.

Your hopeful thoughts are rudely interrupted when, without warning, the gangway you are standing on shifts violently under your feet. The whole structure lets out an ominous and eerie metallic groan and you realise with dread that the platform is tearing itself away from the pylon.

You have no doubt that you and Andor are the first people up here in years, and that your presence has disturbed the structure from its hibernation and reminded it of its decrepit, fragile state.

You grab at one of the rungs affixed to the main pylon intended for servicing the internal mechanisms, but Andor is too far away to reach. As the walkway peels away, he falls with it. The huge hunk of metal stops suddenly at a right angle to the structure, and the now horizontal guard railings catch Andor as he slams into them with a sickening clang.

There's a brief moment of relief when you think the worst is over, but then the structure jerks violently again as another metal bolt fails, and it tilts just enough to send Andor somersaulting over the top of the railing.

Desperately, he scrambles for something to purchase, and he manages to grasp at the guard rail with the fingertips of one hand as he rolls over it, leaving him dangling helplessly over the roaring water below.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop down towards him and your body hits the metal railings agonisingly hard. You ignore the pain and, praying that the railings will hold you, you scrabble to grab at Andor, your hands clutching at a handful of material at the front of his shirt just as his own grip fails.

Unexpectedly finding himself suspended in the air, Andor looks up at you in abject surprise. He assesses the situation and his eyes lock on to yours in alarm as he understands what you've done.

Your shoulders feel like they are slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and your fingers, numb and white, are twisted up painfully in the material of Andor's shirt. You can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs being crushed out of you as you are pressed into the railings by the pull of Andor's bodyweight below you.

You are terrified that at any moment the guardrail will collapse and you'll both plummet together into the angry sea which seems to wait with open maw like a predator beneath you. But you don't know what else to do, and you refuse to let him fall, so you cling on to him in utter desperation.

"Let go!" Andor shouts up at you, and you can tell it's an order.

"No!" You yell back.

Suddenly, the front of his shirt rips and he drops away so that he is now hanging, almost literally, by a thread. The abrupt and unexpected motion causes you to lose balance and you have to let go of him with one hand to steady yourself on the railings and stop yourself from almost flipping over them to join him.

Andor's eyes are wild and fraught now, flicking between the failing structure and your overwrought face.

"Damn you," he growls with renewed urgency, "let go!"

Your whole body is screaming at you to do as he says, but you won't. Tears sting your eyes, whether from pain or fear, you're not sure. You clench your jaw and shake your head at him.

Andor snarls with effort as he reaches behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out his flip knife. He wrenches it open with his teeth.

"Don't you dare, you stupid bastard!" you scream down at him as you realise with what he intends to do.

He looks at you for one final moment and the world seems to stop. His expression is completely open and readable to you, perhaps for the very first time. His dark eyes glint with a fear that you suddenly realise is as much for you as it is for himself.

Then, he sets his face into a mask of grim determination and with one swift motion, he severs the flimsy cord of fabric tying you together and cuts himself loose.

"Cassian!" The vague outline of his name is torn ragged from your throat in an incomprehensible shriek of despair.

Helpless, you watch as he falls, limbs flailing, down, down, down, until he hits the water below with a sickening crash and disappears into the black, unforgiving waves.

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

Unbeknownst to you, the Rebel Alliance have successfully received Dreylan Balgo's biometric signature and K-2SO is already on his way to extract you and Cassian from Canto Bight.

By his calculations, K-2 should reach Cantonica in twelve hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds. Plenty of time to mull over the conversation he'd had with Murdo the flight technician before he'd left the hanger.

"Maybe this time, eh K-2?" Murdo had quipped as he unhooked the re-fuelling nozzle from Cassian's ship.

"Maybe this time, what?"

"Maybe this time they'll finally have admitted their feelings for each other."

"That is a ridiculous observation," K-2 had said confidently, "They dislike each other immensely."

Murdo had laughed and made a comment about the droid having a lot to learn about human relationships which K-2 had thought was quite rude.

But as he barrels through the hyperspace lanes in Cassian's ship towards the Outer Rim and Cantonica, K-2 has time to mull things over.

He thinks about how on missions when the unit has to set up camp on some remote world, Cassian always leaves your meat rations on the fire just a little longer than everyone else's because he knows you like them so crispy that they're almost burnt.

Then he thinks about how whenever he and Cassian return from a mission you're not assigned to, yours is always the first face the droid spots in the hanger when they arrive back, and that once your eyes land on Cassian, you always walk away without a word, seemingly satisfied.

Now that K-2 really uses his circuits to process it, Murdo's conclusion doesn't seem quite so ridiculous after all.

"Humans," the droid muses to himself with an exasperated shake of his mechanical head.

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

Somehow, you manage to descend the transmitter, climbing and clambering down the structure in a daze. You don't bother even trying to mask your shouts of distress and frustration as your feet and hands slip on the blasted, kriffing, cursed metal all the way down.

You stagger the ten kilometers back to Canto Bight in something resembling a fugue state. When you reach the resort, you sneak through the back entry port you and Andor left through and wind your way through the maze of service passages and elevators back to your suite.

You are as bedraggled looking as you are distraught and you are glad that the corridors are as deserted as they were when you departed. You don't feel you could negotiate your way out of anything right now, despite all your training.

Once you've climbed out of your damp and dirty clothes you fall into bed. Andor's absence beside you is a stark, raw reminder of what's just happened and you finally allow yourself to cry. Somehow, at some point, as you wallow in your anguish, fatigue takes over and you fall into a torrid sleep.

When you awake, it's still dark and you have the distinct impression that you're being watched. There's someone else in the room with you. You bolt upright and almost cry out as your eyes take in the silhouette of a person in the moonlight.

The ghost of Cassian Andor is standing at the foot of the bed.

Except he's not a spectre, you realise. His outline, though swaying, is solid. He's flesh and blood. He's alive.

Once you've recover from the initial shock, you don't think you've ever felt relief like it in your whole life. You leap up out of the bed and fly to him, just as he starts to crumple to the floor. You grab for him, but too weak to moderate his own movements, he drops like a stone and his momentum pulls you crashing down on top of him.

He's all sand and salt and seawater and he is shivering violently. His eyes are heavy, like he's struggling to keep them open. You touch his face and his skin ice cold. His clothes are wet through and you're suddenly struck by the urgency of the situation. You need to get him warm. Now.

With great effort, you manage to half drag, half shove Andor towards the shower room. He's so exhausted and disoriented that even this appears to be an insurmountable task for him.

When you finally get him there, you bundle him into the shower, fully clothed. He slumps against the wall as you turn the warm water on. You start peeling off the sodden, freezing layers of his clothing.

He hisses through his teeth as you remove what remains of his shredded shirt and you see that the skin on his torso and back is blossoming here and there in vibrant shades of black and blue. You're not surprised, a fall from that height, these are probably bruises from hitting the water hard. You try to be more gentle.

Once he's free of all his clothing, you slide down behind him so that you are against the wall, and he's sat between your legs with his back pressed against your torso. You guide him to bring his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around himself pliantly, curling into a tight ball. He's still shaking uncontrollably.

You ignore your own discomfort as the warm water plasters your nightdress to your body like a second skin.

Trying desperately to aid the shower in its work of returning some of his body heat to him, you rub his back, his arms, and his chest vigorously. Every so often he rests his head on the bridge he's created with his forearms across his knees and you have to coax him gently to sit up.

"Stay awake," you plead, "You need to stay awake for me."

Finally, his shivering subsides and you sit in exhausted silence as the warm water continues to pour over both of you. Your chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Cassian," you finally say into his ear, tucking a stray lock behind it as if that will allow him to heed your words better.

He leans back into you, tilting his head up towards your face, to show he is listening.

"I don't....I don't despise you, I don't..." you trail off, silent tears suddenly mingling with the spray from the shower as they start to fall from your eyes.

Slowly, Cassian turns to you. He rolls on to his knees, and sits upright on his heels. You mirror his movements so that you are face to face and your foreheads come to rest against each other's.

"I know," he whispers, bringing a hand to your cheek, his expression soft and full of tenderness, "I know that."

He trails a series of soft kisses down your face, touching his lips to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally down until they reach your own. You melt into him.

This kiss is not like the first you shared, hasty and hurried and fuelled by external forces. This is deep and languid and deliberate, as if you are the only two in existence and you have all the time in the Galaxy to spend in this moment.

One of Andor's hands tangles up in your wet hair, the other presses against the small of your back as if willing you closer to him. You can feel his urgency increasing now. His movements are definite and purposeful as he caresses and kisses your skin.

Selfishly, you want him to continue, need him to never stop. But you also know this might not be the wisest way for him to recover.

"Cassian..."

"You told me I need to stay awake," he argues as if he already knows what you're about to say, now tracing kisses along your collarbone, "I'm awake."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind..." you protest weakly, but the breathy desire in your own voice betrays you.

"Liar," he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck and you feel him grin against your skin.

The movement of his lips makes his short beard tickle your flesh and the feeling forces a raucous laugh from your chest. It's a loud, unrestrained, joyful sound.

Cassian pulls away to look at you, wearing an expression of wonder. You realise he's probably never heard you laugh like that before. In fact, you can't remember the last time you heard it yourself.

His eyes crease at the corners and dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles widely at you. That smile, the one you realise you've adored all along. And this one is only for you.

"You're infuriating," you scold, but your voice is light and full of heady exhilaration.

You wrap yourself around him and kiss him hard, realising, finally, that it is impossible to deny yourself the joy of him any longer.

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

You and Andor step off the landing platform of the resort and up into his ship. K-2 wastes no time in piloting the vessel up and away from the city.

Compared to the sumptuous surroundings of Canto Bight, the interior of the ship looks admittedly a little dreary by comparison, but you won't miss life within those opulent walls. Not when you now know just how many of its inhabitants are within the insidious clutches of the Empire.

"Well, I hope you two behaved yourselves," K-2 greets you as you both enter the cockpit.

You and Cassian exchange a glance. He winks at you and you actually giggle, the internal glow of happiness you feel manifesting itself in an embarrassing little laugh.

"I'm taking that as a no," K-2 says, "Murdo will be pleased."

"Who the hell is Murdo?" Cassian asks and he drops into the pilot's chair beside his faithful droid.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #cassian andor fanfiction

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