#fighting each other with their deformed hands when they just want to reach out for each other kyaaa

[yugiohz]

anyway hands are a nice motif :) deku is told that if he keeps using his arms, he’s gonna lose them for real so he shifts his combat style to leg work but THEN he fights awakened shigaraki and it’s all about using his hands to both fight him but also to reach out ugh hands as both the kindest and most violent part of your body

#last episode specifically I love how deku uses his arms like they’re about to fall offfffff #and shigaraki is 90% malformed hands and fingers in the manga rn #fighting each other with their deformed hands when they just want to reach out for each other kyaaa

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 1)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

I. Stronger Together

CH 1 (5.4k) You can hear it behind you, wheezing breath, strangled grunts. You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer but you don’t dare to look backwards. It’s been following you halfway down this mountain, dragging itself along, waiting for the inevitable. You plod on, one foot in front of the other, letting gravity help you fall forward, knees threatening to buckle with each slap of your foot down on the dirt. 

It’s been hours of this now, you must be miles away. Away from the little snow-topped cabin where you were ambushed by a single infected behind a closed bathroom door. Away from where the rest of your party was bitten, first by the clicker and then by each other. Away from where you had to shoot each of them, one by one, until you ran out of bullets and escaped out a window.

You wish you could silence your cumbersome steps. You wish you could quiet your labored breaths. You wish you could stop the drip, drip, drip of your blood from smattering onto the dried leaves underneath your feet. Maybe then this one-legged, blind, croaking monster behind you would cease its pursuit. Then you could stop moving and just close your eyes for a moment. You just need a moment, just one moment.

You think you do close your eyes for just a second, and it’s then that you trip over a buried tree root. Your eyes open as your face meets the ground, wet and hard, knocking the wind out of you. Everything immediately hurts. You can barely think. One arm remains wrapped tight around you while you attempt to pull yourself forward on your other elbow, away from the scratchy breathing. 

You feel a hand clawing at your shoe. Kicking the shoe off, you roll away, further down the hill as best you can. Reaching one hand out, you grab at sticks and stones, anything you can grasp, throwing them backwards in an attempt to slow down the inescapable. You hear nothing but your own muffled heartbeat pounding in your ears. It's so loud it sounds like hoofbeats. 

You finally roll onto your back to face it, watching it slowly closing the small gap between you, bony fingers outstretched towards you. You close your eyes again. You’re so tired.

A gunshot rings out.

Tiny specks of blood spatter outward, covering both you and a circular pattern on the ground around you in a fine red mist. The infected falls backwards, unmoving. Your eyes are open now, ears ringing. You hear muffled shouting and then there’s a gun barrel in your face. You’re too tired for this. You close your eyes again.

Another gunshot rings out.

“What the fuck you think you’re doin’?” Joel shouts, having grabbed the barrel of the gun just in time.

“He’s infected!” the man previously holding the gun says, pointing at your blood-soaked torso.

“You think that–,” Joel points to the deformed clicker lying next to you, “woulda followed him halfway down the mountain if he was already infected?”

Joel leans down at your side, gently opening your jacket to assess the damage. He sees several layers of cloth wrapped around your torso, all soaked in blood beneath your ribcage, where your bloodied hand still clutches right over a large shard of glass sunk into your middle.

“Bring my horse, now,” Joel yells at the rest of his party.

He’s sure about three things. One, unlike the fungus-covered body lying beside you, you are not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive. Two, you are most definitely bleeding to death. The tight bindings around your middle likely serve as the only thing keeping your slowly-draining body alive. Three, despite your short-cut hair and boyish appearance due to the many layers enveloping your chest, you are – in fact – a woman.

Days later someone comes bursting through his office door. Come quick, Joel. It’s all he needed to hear to follow the messenger to the clinic, worried that when he arrived he’d see your cold and lifeless body lying on the bed. When he bursts in the door to your room, ignoring the shouted protests of the medical staff, he is shocked to find you alive. Not just alive but standing up against the far wall, brandishing a pair of scissors, clutching at the pulled stitches on your side. He hears the doctor beside him muttering the words fuckin crazy.

“Who the fuck are you?” you point the scissors at him.

“I saved you,” Joel whispers, not surprised you don’t recognize him as you were basically unconscious when he rode with you into town. He points to the red drops accumulating on the floor, “that’s my blood you’re drippin’ all over the place.” He briefly recalls the argument from the doctor when he brought you in two days ago and insisted you be given his Type O blood.

He watches you look down at the blood spilling over your hand and uses the distraction to close the gap between you. Ignoring the scissors in your hand he quickly grabs some gauze and presses it against your side, hearing you gasp in surprise. 

“I want to leave,” you say through clenched teeth, raising the scissors up to his eyeline, as if he forgot they were there. You make no further move to try and hurt him, somehow confident that your feeble threat is enough. He meets your eyes, wide and wild. You’re terrified. You don’t trust him. You’re threatening him in front of four other people while you bleed onto the floor. You’re fucking fantastic. 

“Let’s get you better and then you can go wherever you want to,” he says, as he nods to the doctor to come fix you up. The doctor shakes her head, motioning towards the scissors. With no fanfare Joel grabs the scissors easily from your grip and pockets them. He ignores the hey he hears come out of your mouth and guides you back to the bed, nodding once again for the doctor to come over.

You allow the doctor to fix you up with no more threats, Joel standing close guard. About halfway through the re-stitching you wince, internally chiding yourself for showing weakness to these strangers. Joel takes your hand in his, not even making eye contact, holding it for the remainder of the procedure. Once the doctor steps away Joel squeezes your hand and looks you in the eye, telling you to get some rest before following the doctor out of your room.

“When you brought that ‘wounded little animal’ in here the other day, you didn’t warn me she bites,” the doctor mocks as she walks Joel out of the clinic.

“I told you she came down that mountain half-dead with a clicker on her heels. I guess we shoulda known she was a fighter.”

“You really gonna try and keep this one too?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Joel answers immediately.

Joel thinks of the look in your eye; feral, distrustful, combative. When was the last time he saw that look on the face of anyone here? He has a community of people who love and adore him, who hang on to his every word. But none of them look at him like that. You have awoken something deep inside of him, something he thought long dead: burning desire.

“If you wanna keep your little pet, Joel, I think you should be the one to take care of her. I don’t want to see any of my staff get hurt and she seemed to take to you.” The doctor knows. She knows Joel brings her wounded birds all the time and she fixes them up. A broken wing here and there, sometimes scrapes and bruises, sometimes wounds that run deeper.

However, none of them have threatened her with a weapon – until today. But she knows they all “take to” Joel. That’s the kind of person he is. Everyone in this town is drawn to him that way, even her. She knows he’ll gladly take on this responsibility and bring stability to the situation. She knows she won’t have to worry about a repeat of today. 

He nods in response and promises to stop by later as he retreats back to his house.

—

He follows through on his promise, showing up later that night and bringing a bowl of hot stew for you to eat. He sits in a chair in the corner of your room, watching you sip at it while you try to avoid awkward eye contact with him. His eyes on you make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t look at you like men usually do, with malintent. He looks at you with interest and curiosity. It makes you feel like a zoo animal. No one looks at you like that. No one ever has. 

This goes on for days. He brings you three meals a day, he hands you medication, he fills your water cup, he sits in the corner of your room and watches you. The doctor comes in to check on your wound and adjust the fluid dripping into the IV in your arm twice a day, but they are the only two who enter your room. You hear the doctor call him Joel. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye but you don’t ever make full eye contact, you don’t ever make conversation. You aren’t looking to strike up a friendship. He said you could leave after you get better, so that’s your plan. Get better, and get the fuck out of here. Finally, on the third day he speaks to you. You drop your spoon back into your bowl because it startles you so much.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks, unphased by the clatter of your silverware.

You’re unsure if you heard him right, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. Instead you say the first thing that comes to mind. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say. A lie. You’ve never read that book in your life. You don’t owe this guy the truth. You don’t even know him, you don’t owe him a goddamn thing. He says nothing further, not acknowledging your response, so you spend the rest of your meal in silence, as usual.

You’re all but certain he didn’t hear you until he shows back up with your dinner, hours later, with a book in his hands. To Kill a Mockingbird. He brought the goddamn book? As you uncover the plate of food, he takes his usual seat in the corner, but this time he clears his throat and starts reading from the book he brought. You stop fiddling with your plate to look up at him.

You stare at him for a while, you’re not sure how long. This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to look at him, to really look at him. He has a strong jaw, a prominent nose, and dark eyes. His trimmed facial hair is flecked with grays along his cheeks, showing his age along with the lines creasing his face. He’s probably in his forties but you can appreciate he’s still got a damn good hairline.

He’s sitting down, of course, but when he was standing you remember thinking he was decently tall, towering over everyone else you’d seen in the building. His shoulders measured about a mile wide and his clothes seemed to strain against the bulk underneath them. You’d tried to ignore the way he wore his jeans but it hadn’t completely slipped your attention. He certainly wasn’t ugly.

As he continues to read aloud, your eyes drift to his lips. His top lip is obscured by his mustache but you’re pretty sure there is a near-perfect cupid’s bow hidden underneath. His bottom lip, by contrast, is plump and pouty, although you doubt anyone has ever described it that way, at least to his face. His gruff voice continues to scuffle along in the background as you watch his lips curve around the words.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you realize how silent it is. He’s stopped talking. Your eyes move to his, meeting his direct gaze. Why did he stop? Did he catch you staring at him?

“You gonna let your dinner get cold?”

You turn your attention back to your meal, slowly finishing it while he reads on. He continues reading long after your plate is empty, his voice lulling you into a relaxing state in your hospital bed. When he eventually closes the book and rises to leave, you let a goodnight slip from your lips. You’ve spoken maybe five words to this guy and now you’re wishing him a goodnight? Jesus, what’s next, sweet dreams?

The next morning is a repeat of the past three days; he comes in as the doctor heads out from checking on you, speaks with her at the door, then brings your breakfast in a wrapped up parcel, still warm. He takes his usual seat but picks the book up off the floor that he’d left there the previous night. He opens it up, clears his throat, and resumes reading you the story.

He’s about an hour into reading during his afternoon visit. Your lunch is long since finished and you’re trying to make sense of it in your head. 

“I don’t understand why they call him ‘Boo’ Radley,” you interrupt. Slowly his eyes raise to meet yours over the pages. A line forms between them.

“I thought this was your favorite book.”

“It is,” you blurt out, poorly reinforcing your deception. “I just– I guess it seems like a strange nickname.”

He shrugs his shoulders then, leaning back in the chair and lowering the book. 

“Well, I suppose they call him ‘Boo’ because he’s so reclusive, almost invisible.” 

You nod your head, electing not to ask any more questions about the story since you’re pretty sure he’s caught on to your lie. After a minute he lifts the books and continues reading.

The next day shortly after you finish your lunch, he finishes the book. You try your hardest not to react. You’ve been trying your best to listen to him speaking as though you’ve heard his words before, as though everything he says is familiar, as though this tale is not new to you. You’re pretty sure you’re a shit actor.

He gets up and goes to leave the room, hours before he usually would. 

“You’re leaving?” you spit out before you can stop yourself.

“That’s the end of the book,” he holds up the book and flips it over, as if to show you it’s empty.

“Y– you don’t have any other books?” you mutter, looking down at your hands.

He crosses the room and sits on the end of your bed, holding out his hand towards you. Your eyes dart between his face and his outstretched fingers.

“I’m Joel,” he says, by way of an extremely late introduction. You gently take his hand in yours, feeling his rough, warm palms grip yours and move your arm up and down. I know, you whisper, not even sure he can hear you. You don’t bother introducing yourself in return. You don’t think it matters what your name is. 

“You ever even read this book?”

You look up and he’s wiggling the book in his hands again, as if it wasn’t obvious which book he meant. You don’t answer again, you just look back down. You’re not ashamed of lying. You’re not embarrassed you got caught lying. You don’t even know this guy, Joel. He’s just some guy who keeps you in this room all day because he apparently doesn’t want you to bleed all over everything.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks for the second time. You open your mouth to let another lie fall out, but before you can, he follows up with, “And let’s try the truth this time.” You meet his eyes.

He should be offended by the way you look at him. You are so distrustful of him. You lied about what your favorite book was, as if it was some state secret, and here you are about to do it again. And don’t think he didn’t notice you side-stepping telling him your name. This is the fifth day he’s spent by your side and you won’t give him an inch. He’s got to find a way to crack you open. He wants you to let him in so badly. 

C’mon, he urges, reaching his hand forward to touch your leg comfortingly. You pull your leg back quickly, recoiling from his touch. His eyes go to your face again, finding it full of fear, your eyes blazing. He pulls his hands back into his own space and lifts them slightly, to show that he has no intention of putting them on you again. He mutters I’m sorry as he slowly rises and heads towards the door, certain he’s just set himself back by miles. This is turning into a real shit day.

—

When he comes back with dinner, passing by the doctor at the door, you look surprised to see him. Clearly the moment between you earlier scared you, but you don’t look scared to see him, just surprised. He’s determined to gain your trust, he’s not going to be driven away by a setback here or there. He hands you your dinner plate and then lays three books down next to you on the bed.

“Pick what you want next,” he says softly.

Ignoring your dinner you look down at the selection he’s brought. Pride and Prejudice. Little Women. Jane Eyre. You can’t help the disappointment that flies across your face. He brought you girl books. He thinks you’re just a girl who likes traditional girl books. You’ve never read any of these books and you don’t want to. You don’t care if they’re ‘classics’. You don’t care if they’re read to you in a scratchy, southern drawl. 

You shake your head and eat your meal in silence while he sits in his chair with knitted brows, rubbing his hand over his beard. After you’re done he immediately rises, takes your dirty plate and all three books into his arms, and leaves the room. You don’t try to stop him this time. 

To your surprise he returns twenty minutes later. Wordlessly he places a small bowl in front of you filled with some kind of baked apple treat. He’s never brought you dessert before. Then next to you he places three new books. You look at the three very different titles. The Chronicles of Narnia. The Count of Monte Cristo. The Hobbit. You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face and you bite your cheek to stop the stinging behind your eyes from turning into any embarrassing tears. 

You reach out and grab The Hobbit, holding it out to him. You don’t tell him it’s the book your dad used to read to you as a kid. You don’t tell him anything and he doesn’t ask, either. He just takes the book and sits back in his chair as he opens the cover, reading it from the beginning. He notices the smile you try to hide and the wetness in your eyes but knows better than to react. He’s gained some distance back. It’s a good day after all.

—

The next few days go by much the same, with Joel spending several hours surrounding each meal reading to you. The only difference is that he’s started asking you questions. They start off about the book. You tell him you’ve read it, and this time, it’s not a lie. You’re pretty sure he believes you. He asks if you’ve traveled as far as Bilbo has, nodding to your healing side, making reference to your ill-fated trek down the mountain.

The questions slowly become more personal; did you have any siblings, how old are you, where did you grow up. Unsure of his motives you ask him back every question he asks you, making him answer first. He says he has a younger brother, he says he just turned forty five, he says he’s from Texas. If he’s making up lies then he’s quicker and better at it then you are. You’re finding him easy to talk to, which is why you almost let it slip out when he tries to get your name again. But you hold it back. 

He sees you practically bite your tongue to stop it from rolling off. He thinks you’re starting to trust him but you still look at him warily whenever he stops to ask you a question. You don't even trust him enough to tell him your damn name yet. You seem confused why he’d want to know about you, why he’d be interested in stories that don’t involve him, why he’d want answers that don’t benefit him. It’s like no one has ever tried to get to know you before.

He’s been building this community for nearly two years now and he knew the QZ’s were getting bad. He wonders where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through; these are the questions he doesn’t dare to ask you. You are frightful and distrustful for a reason. Whatever you’ve experienced it hasn’t been kindness, not for a long while. No one has been nursing you back to health, feeding you home cooked meals while they read classic novels to you.

It’s been just over a week and the doctor finally gives you clearance to start moving around and regaining some strength, albeit slowly. Joel brings you some warm clothes and guides you out the back of the clinic, which leads to a large square park in the center of town. Despite the chill of fall, you’re eager to get better, and you revel in the opportunity to feel like your old self again. You get tired easily but Joel is always a few steps away to help you back to bed if you overexert yourself.

He leaves the book in the room but he continues on with your conversations, which have become more lengthy. Despite your reluctance to trust and his seemingly gruff nature, you find your time together has become easy, maybe even friendly. He still asks most of the questions and you still make him answer them all first. But you wonder things about him that he isn’t asking.

You know he’s in his mid-forties, but you don’t know if he’s married or if he has kids. It makes sense though, most people don’t talk about their family because people aren’t exactly living white-picket-fence lives anymore. You know he’s from Texas but you don’t know how he ended up here, in the mountains of Vermont. You don’t know why he comes to see you three times a day, why he reads to you, where he goes when he’s not with you. You don’t know what his favorite book is. You don’t know why you care.

You jokingly call yourself a Plain Jane and he perks up, chuckling while he tells you that’s your name now. Well you still haven’t told him your real name so it might as well be. When he calls you that name an hour later – Plain Jane – you feel your cheeks burn. It’s not exactly a complimentary name but the smile on his face when he calls you by it makes you look away from him. What is he doing to you?

Why does he look at you like that? You have been half-invisible most of your life and when anyone does actually give you attention it’s never been a good thing. You prefer it when they don’t look at you, when they don’t see you. But Joel has been sitting in that chair and watching you, looking at you, seeing you. He’s been asking you questions, reading to you, and bringing you meals. Yet you still don’t trust it. You don’t trust him and you don’t trust the feelings he stirs inside of you.

Joel is walking by your side during one of your afternoon walks and he tells a bad joke. He wasn’t expecting you to laugh, he’s never made you laugh. Until today. You’re not just laughing, you’re giggling, and he thinks it might be one of the best sounds he’s ever heard. It makes him feel as light as air. You grab his arm as you double over, losing yourself in the laughter. 

This is the first time you’ve ever touched him aside from your hands grazing when he hands you your meals. Not that those count, he doesn’t even count those. He shouldn’t even notice when it happens, yet he does. It’s like you have his insides twisted up and his head all fuzzy but somehow he feels like himself for the first time in nearly a decade.

He has been ignoring responsibilities for over a week now, sneaking away three times a day to spend hours with you. He rushes out of the house with breakfast in his hands, opting to eat it with you instead. His afternoon and evening meetings all get pushed back, until he’s left your side and can make time. No one questions him but he knows Tess is starting to get annoyed with him. She doesn’t approve of his behavior, his attention so focused on one person. She hasn’t said anything yet but she has that look.

It’s easy to be with you. It was easy in your room, even when you weren’t talking to him yet. He could sit there in the corner in silence and just be, without anyone asking him anything. Then when you finally spoke to him he couldn’t wait to hear more. He asks stupid, pointless questions all day just to hear you answer them. He has to be more guarded when you’re outside together, everyone is watching. 

They’re all watching him, watching you, wondering why he’s spending all of his time with you when he used to spread himself around to the whole community. But the answer is easy. You don’t look at him the way they do. You don’t have their expectations of him. You don’t think he’s got all the answers. You don’t stand around waiting for him to save you.

–

When it’s been almost two weeks since you came under the doctor’s care she tells you that she thinks you’re well enough to leave the clinic. “Where do I go?” you ask her before you can stop yourself. She lets a huff escape her lips, but before she can reply, you both notice Joel standing in the doorway. You see a look of panic cross her face and you don’t miss the way she dodges his hand grabbing for her arm as she slips out the door past him.

He turns back to you and you notice he has three new books tucked under his arm. He’d finished The Hobbit, The Count of Monte Cristo, and The Chronicles of Narnia this past week. Part of you wonders what selection he’s brought for you this time. You still haven’t told him your favorite. Now you’re not sure you ever will. The doctor said you’re well enough to leave, and that’s what you wanted to do. Leave. Right?

You look up at Joel and just as he opens his mouth to speak you hear the main door open behind him and a commotion of conversation coming through the door. You hear someone say, “fell off a ladder” and Joel’s attention is diverted down the hallway behind him. Suddenly a woman is at his side. She’s tall, with long chestnut hair and freckles that dot her cheeks and nose. She’s gorgeous.

You instantly feel like you’re one foot tall. You feel inferior. You feel like you’re staring at a marble sculpture. This woman is beautiful and she’s standing so close to Joel. He’s listening to her talk and nodding and he’s not even looking at you anymore. He probably forgot you were even there; look at this goddess in front of him. She stops talking and looks at you, pinning you with her stare. You freeze.

“Hi, I’m Tess,” she reaches out her hand to you, closing the distance between you since you’re stuck to your spot. “You must be the reason I never see this guy anymore,” she teases. You think she’s teasing.

“I was just about to invite PJ to come stay with us,” Joel clears his throat behind her, using his newest version of your nickname – Plain Jane. You look at him, eyes bulging out of your head. He was going to what? Stay with him? Who is us?

“Oh, you were?” she says, as if reading your mind. She’s still gently shaking your hand, regarding you with a curious eye.

“Yeah, we’ve got the room,” he says casually, flashing you a smile. Tess says nothing. You look back and forth between them. They’re both looking at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“S– stay?” you manage to squeak at him. Does that even begin to cover the questions you have?

“Just until you’re feeling a hundred percent,” he says, gesturing to your nearly-healed side.

Now Tess drops your hand and turns back to look at Joel. You can’t quite read her expression. He doesn’t meet her eyes, he keeps them locked on you. He walks over to you and hands you the three books, placing your small breakfast plate on the top of the stack.

“Pick which one we should read next and Tess’ll come by after lunchtime to bring you home.” Without waiting for a response he grabs Tess by the shoulders and leads her out of the room.

“Since when do we ‘have the room’, Joel?” she questions as soon as they spill out onto the front sidewalk of the clinic.

“You can put her in the room next to mine,” he replies, taking strides so long that she has to hustle to keep up.

“My room is the room next to yours,” she mutters. He stops dead in his tracks, causing her boots to scuffle on the sidewalk to stop from crashing into him.

“Well obviously I didn’t fuckin’ mean your room. She can have Bianca’s room,” Joel huffs as he walks on.

“So, across the hall from your room?” He stops again and this time she does crash into him. He grabs her shoulders, pulling her even tighter to him and brings his head down to her ear.

“You’re supposed to be the one who worries about all this shit for me, so just figure it out, okay Tess?”

She stays standing in place while he resumes his walk back home. She doesn’t bother answering him since she knows his question was rhetorical. Tess did agree to manage his house. However, that was before she realized that he was going to be bringing little lost pets in and out of it all the time. She always knew their relationship was transactional. It served a purpose, it fulfilled their needs, but it was never loving. 

When they agreed to start this community, she thought they’d do it together. He convinced her that he needed her help, and he did – he still does – there’s no way he could do this without her. He never wanted to manage the details. But she thought she’d be his partner, in the community even if not in life. Instead she finds herself at his mercy. She also finds herself not disliking it as much as she should. She lets herself get lost in him, lost in what they’ve created here in this valley.

She plays the role of his partner, but only behind the scenes. She plays his girlfriend, but only when he’s not otherwise occupied. She’s his friend, but only if he’s feeling in need of comfort. She’s mother to his children, but only the broken little birds he brings home to their doorstep. She does all of the work, but reaps none of the rewards. And yet, she lives a safe, comfortable life. She can’t help but feel grateful to him. In a lot of ways she still feels like he saved her. She was once a broken little bird herself.

After lunch she comes back to the clinic and finds you sitting on the edge of your bed, as if you’ve been waiting there all morning. You probably were. She fights the urge to ask if you have everything, reminding herself that you had no possessions save for the bloody clothes they found you in. Let’s go, is all she says, and you follow her out of the clinic in silence, nodding a goodbye to the doctor as you exit. 

“Are you Joel’s wife?” you ask as you walk side-by-side, mustering up courage from god-knows-where.

“Joel doesn’t have a wife.”

🖤

NEXT

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much. Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @strang3lov3 for your support and help creating this world. 🫶

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[never-gonna-danse-again]

Scout Operation Beta

uhmmm massive text incoming sorry

I've had a few ideas about the scouting op gone wrong with Cutler, so I took it upon myself to draft a rough plan of it. just a warning this took a much darker turn than I thought it would, so please don't read if you don't want to/ wouldn't feel comfortable

but honestly now I want to write a whole fic about this >:) if my boy Knight Cutler doesn't have any official lore or solid story to go off, we will give him one

October 16th 2284

Knight-Sergeant Cutler leaves the Prydwen along with two lesser knights, Calvin and Woods, and three aspirants, Wade, Ruskin and Paytes. Their task is to scout the premises of a Super Duper Mart and determine if the area would make a useful store for arms or even a fallback point, if needed. The majority of the mission goes without a hitch, the vertibird launching perfectly and the six laying low on their short journey towards the ruins of West Milton.

They reach the set co-ordinates, mid operation as they are ambushed by a group of super mutants (of at least seven) who grab Ruskin and threaten to kill her if they didn’t surrender. The mutants are of much higher intelligence than average FEV subjects, not killing them outright, and the soldiers surrender, hoping that with their combined strength and cunning they could find an opportunity fight their way out. They brought the six in through the complex, in a clean state for a mutant hive, and lock them up in a smaller section of the store.

Knight Woods is taken to a closed off room with high security and stripped of his power armour; upon seeing vats full to the brim of FEV, he lashes out against his super mutant captors, pulling the rifle from one’s back and killing those binding him. Soon more fill in, and he is kicked to his knees and his head splattered against the glass panes from which his allies watch. The other Brotherhood soldiers are spared, saved only for a worse fate along the line, and left with the memory of a dead brother. They sleep, or try to, in a small corridor locked by chains on both sides, surrounded by the horrible stench of rotting meat as they rest. Wade, incredibly distraught from her closest friend’s death, sets off a distress signal in the desperate hopes to find a way out, and is comforted by Cutler after her fiddling brings him awake. By this time, the soldiers are left only with their uniforms and holotags, the power armour of the Knights left in the makeshift labatory; they dread what is to come next.

For a week, it feels as if the mutants have forgotten about them entirely. Some days, they are given food and water to share between five people, and sometimes go without it for a couple in a row. If not for Paytes’ sarcasm in even the darkest time of her life and their commander’s dogged hope, they would’ve been bored and starved to death much sooner. In the dark flickering lights of the abandoned store, the door is unfastened once more, and flanked by three super mutants hobbles a man with a cane; the right side of his body is far too large and twisted, his thin form hardly holding his deformed limbs up. The mutants refer to him as Leader, and refuse to answer to the team when they question the arrival. He looks over them, uttering the odd thing to his assistant mutant before he smiles emptily and leaves the room, helped along by a steady green hand to his side. Wade quivers as one approaches, clutching onto Cutler as it picked up her distress beacon. The super mutant eyes it strangely and throws it to the floor, smashing it under a meaty foot. He orders his soldiers to get behind him, checking over each one of their faces desperately, knowing not how to protect them. Tears fall down Calvin’s face, his sob cut short by a shot to the chest. Cutler yells out, trying to put himself between the mutants and the remaining soldiers; every clumsily shot fired misses him on purpose , and he can only watch as their bodies fall around him, Wade falling limp in his arms. As soon as the mutants leave, he breaks down crying, praying to every god and power he can remember to bring them peace.

They keep him alive, running tests on him every day and drawing blood until he feels light headed. A few rooms across, Leader and his adept mutants work on something tirelessly; as Cutler sits half-starved, staring at the walls to ignore the blood splattered all around him. He felt so much lighter, just skin, bone and wasted muscle; he winces as he noticed the torn jumpsuit was now baggy from a perfect fit. Two weeks pass in his strange Limbo, with no contact from outside that small room; the muties clear out the bodies a few days in. And when they give him food, he just tries not to vomit and gorges down every last scrap.

The day finally comes when they dragged his half-awake up onto two feet and walked him over to the labatory. He doesn’t fight, nor struggle, trying to stand stoically over the pool of FEV, trying not to think of what he was leaving behind. He feels like he’s drowning every second he’s drenched in the vat, slowly sinking, slowly dying. Every last shred of humanity was leaving his body over the course of hours, breaking apart and mutating into something new. Cutler lacks the pure strength to walk as he’s pulled from the FEV, instead keeling over to his knees with a crunch of bone; the strange man sighed above him, running his eyes over the broken body of the Knight with pity before ordering him to be taken away.

He feels the grasp of reality slipping away from the stretcher he lies on, feeling his heartbeat fade with the slow pulse of the light above his head. When he sees the Paladin in bloodstained armour run from the corner of the room, Cutler believes he’s already in heaven. But then the pain throbs back through every tear of flesh, and he remembers the bloody ending he was given. The horror on his face is unmatched by anything, pure rage from seeing what they’d done to him. Paladin Danse is ready to murder every single mutie left in the complex and bring Cutler to safety, bring him back from the edge of death. A fantasy, to say the least; he brings the pistol into the Paladin’s hand. Leaving it there, giving one last smile and embrace in arms before he sees blackness devour his vision, and feels his weary eyes finally shut.

After dismissing his own soldiers, Danse buries the squadron, leaving the Knights’ armour by their makeshift headstones of scrap wood. He recovers the holotags to hand back to Captain Kells, hoping to preserve their memory; the area stands for years as a safe haven within the trees, and the FEV strain that affected Cutler helps green life to blossom, flowers blooming through the gaps of his abandoned power armour.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #brotherhood of steel #bos fo4 #cutler #cutler fo4 #danse fallout 4 #paladin danse #fallout 4 companions #hc #i guess? idk

[tigorrrr]

𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲 || prompt::sitting close together, touching each other

Ship(?): Diya x Baraka

Rated: mature

Warnings: blood, open wounds/holes, blood kink (?), off-canon, I'd say teratophilia but Diya can't be a licensed monsterfucker 'cuz Bara' ain’t a monster in her book 🤍

           When the curtain of night fell upon the group, that's when the Lin Kuei Kunoichi got concerned about one of their teammates that have been gone for two hours or so in his tent.

           She understood the importancy of privacy but she sometimes forgets not to cross over their shade because all she wishes to do is help. And after she had tested the water with where she stands with him, when he so vulnerably let her get close, she didn't want to get distanced unless she can't help it.

           Diya had been fascinated by Baraka since she saw him, a member of their 'adventure' group and a fellow prison mate for a while.

           He was tall - taller than her at least, with broad shoulders and a ruggedly handsome face - even though the half of it was scarred and deformed. Shriveled up to the raw muscle from his mouth up to his cheeks and enlarged talon-like teeth filled in the space.

           Tarkat was and still is quite nasty, but it didn't stop her from feeling some kind of attraction towards Baraka.

           His personality was a charm on its own. Baraka has years of life experience and it showed. Tarkat, no matter how contagious and how much the symptoms may be gruesome, he has excersised his mind and body around it. Adapting to the new him.

           As a medic, Diya had to take care of her responsibilities first. Her Earthrealm friend Kenshi needed more attention than before, to his annoyance, and she understood it. Most men hate to be taken care of like the weakest child. All three of her older brothers made the same fuss about any kind of injury that she have had treated.

           She treated Kenshi by the campfire while the others were preparing the tents. His world was suddenly plunged into eternal darkenss, Diya's heart ached for his. Being able to see all your life to suddenly lose your sight is the biggest torture than if one is born that way, althought they are equally as horrifying to lose one of the important senses.

           "I- I'll be okay for now...!" Kenshi protested against her care, tipping his head to be somewhat out of reach. "This is not necessary!"

           "Darling," Diya's sweet tone took a low dip to sound stern. "It will get infected if you won't let me clean it. I already gave you something for pain, if you worry it will hurt too much."

           A low laughter turned both their heads Johnny's direction, the american strutted over to his buddy and added small twigs into the fire before sitting beside them. "I'd watch out Kenshi, just because you don't see the stern nurse's face doesn't mean it isn't there."

           Kenshi would so love to roll his eyes along with Diya at his friend right now, but alas, he cannot.

           When wet cotton dabbed underneath his eye he drew back his whole upper body with a hiss. It didn't hurt but it took Kenshi by suprise.

           "Was für ein Kind..." Diya tutted softly, her hand already had a grasp on his coat's collar to thrust him back forward. Kenshi didn't fight the medic on duty but he wasn't pleased about it either.

           Johnny's brows rose until it wrinkled his forehead. "Wait- wait. You speak English, Japanese, Chinese and now German?"

           Diya smiled while working on cleaning her comrade's wounds without stabbing his already stabbed eyes since he's refusing to stay still. "And a little bit of French and Czech, too." she added, pride swelling her chest before she exhaled it to concentrate on her task.

           Whistling was how the actor expressed his impression. He likes pretty girls with pretty, smart brains.

           "I don't know how you do that. A few people can be multilingual."

           "I guess I'm on top with very few, darling." Diya smirked impishly and the way she shot it at Johnny briefly had made him at a loss for words, he could only grin in return.

           Kenshi's long exhale made his tiredness of being the third wheel between these two, he couldn't understand how he ended on that spot when those two have their back-and-forth. He grunted softly when he felt a familiar cloth press against the bridge of the nose before it was tied at the back of his head.

           "Now, as your doctor, I order you to go rest." with gentle pats on her patient's shoulder Diya stood from her knees and cleaned her dirtied thighs.

           When Johnny took his friend's offered hand to get Kenshi on his feet, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Shouldn't it be recommended?"

           "Nope~" Diya cooed and put her hands against her lower back, watching Johnny lead his blind friend to the nearest tent.

           She's glad Kenshi has someone in his time of need.

           Diya decided to take a stroll around the camping ground as soon as everyone settled. As she wandered around, admiring the beauty of her surroundings, she stumbled upon Baraka's tent and remembered she'd wished to pay him a visit before retrieving to her own bedroll... with hope that she would lay in someone else's that night instead.

           The unsureness of how to approach didn't stop her from nearing the current residence for tonight of Baraka's.

           Her hand stalled in the air as soon as it gripped the sheet when pained, growly grunts was what she heard coming from inside. Diya strained her ears to hear more, but the longer she waited the more her suspicion had her tip her toes in the cold water of anxiety.

           Curiosity finally getting the best of her, she quietly lifted the sheet and she peeked inside.

           What she saw made her heart skip a beat and then jump in her throat at the same time.

           Baraka was standing in the middle of the tent with his side view profile facing the entrance, bloodied and sweaty, equally as bloody spikes with pieces of meat and skin at his feet, his face contorted in pain.

           Then, Diya could hear the squelching of raw muscle tissue and skin, as he began to tear something from his forearm.

           A sickly crunch followed and another small boney apex hit the ground with the rest of the spikes. Because Baraka had to go deep for this little spike, it was painful and he epressed it by repressed, throaty growls.

           Diya gasped, a little delayed because of her stupor but the thud grounded her, the sharp inhale that came from her lips was barely audible, her widened eyes furrowed and scrunched in concern.

           As she stood there, frozen in shock, Baraka's eyes met hers when he turned to the nearly silent sound of breathing. The pain and determination in his eyes was replaced with a hint of embarrassment.

           In that moment, Diya realized that she was not supposed to see this, neither were others. Baraka wanted time for himself to let his guard down while working on his private issue before returning back to socialize.

           "What are you doing here?!" he demaned her to answer tone lowered and it made him hiss through his mouthfull of teeth, he was nearly panic-stricken — for how long did she stood there? Did someone else saw him?

           Now that he turned completely Diya's eyes fell upon the sight of his bare chest and limbs covered in bloody holes, wearing nothing but his trousers that had not been spared from the crimson liquid.

           Diya immediately rushed inside, gaze focused only on his wounds. "Darling— Why? How much does it hurt?!" she piled him with questions, her voice filled with worry while she pulled out her clean cotton handkerchief to dab at the rivers of blood on his chest.

           Baraka watched the ivory hands tenderly work and place on his glistening skin, as the crimson substance coated her fingers then the rest of her hand his jaw grew taut and it became harder to swallow.

           Blood looked appetizing on her skin.

           He had to hold back his elongated tongue in his mouth as it hankered to caress her hand up to her wrist until it would be clean pearl-colored flesh again.

           Baraka tore himself from her body heat and with his bloodied clothes he sat down on his bedroll, trying to dissolve those nasty, invading thoughts.

                                                                  It would scare her away...

           "I...I did not want you to see this mess." Baraka avoided her gaze as he tried to process how he should confess, staring at his lap.

           Without hesitation she joined him, sat right by his side and again left so little space between their bodies.

           "But why would you even do this to yourself?" Diya searched his gaze for answers, hand carefully placed on his inked bicep and her palm and fingers spread around the chissled muscle, avoiding the gaping holes but accidentally smearing more blood across his flesh.

           He held his breath, savoring her caresses, and very slowly exhaled through his nostril. "... You are keen on touching me and I didn't want to risk stabbing you."

           "Oh, Baraka..."

           Diya's airy exhale was too close to his pointy ear, it made him ever-so-slightly shiver and his spine to straighten.

           Baraka has no idea when but she already had the front of her body glued to his side, her bent knees dug into his thighs. Painted nails tenderly raked over the lines of bleak black deep under his skin, silently marveling at the artistic piece.

           He was about to face her but the contact of his temple against her forehead prevent him to do so, Diya was so close yet so far from his reach to hold her properly as any consistent lover should and she still deserved much more attentiveness.

           "You're so solicitous, ダーリン." Diya cooed, lips against his jagular vein, feeling for his spiking pulse.

           Baraka's breathing turned raspier when her praise replayed in the hippocampus, he needed to double check, make sure he heard right. His blemished facial features still tinted with the redish flush. He could only respond with grunts that huffed hot air from his enlarged mouth against her pale lashes, making her flutter her eyelids like wings of a butterfly and tickle the underside of his jaw.

           Diya's hands, ever so curious, stroked each side of his right arm up to his knuckles drenched in blood, she wasn't squeamish to get her hands dirty. When travelling over the holes with extra carefulness, Baraka didn't flinch an inch, to her inner relief.

           When the small hands cupped at his on top of his lap, fingers knead at the inside of his palm, Baraka was close to moaning. Diya cuddled closer, upper leg hooking over his above the patella and he welcomed the weight and her body heat like a weighted blanket.

           It was beginning to be quite tempting to pull Diya over him, at his lap, into his arms, for her to lay on top of him. Baraka wanted all of it at once. Yet, he didn't give in. His sanity could succumb into the unpredictable need of yearning, Baraka's not ready to risk it, who knows what... violently affectionate being he could turn into.

           Under the blanket of the night with no worry about tomorrow, in the privacy of this tent, just the two of them — this could be one of the very few, if any at all, opportunities they could take advantage of. Right here, right now.

           And she's only waiting for him to make up his mind.

           "Touch me?" Diya's enticing request carried a peck, two, from his throat to his jaw where she could reach.

           It loosened his fear that gripped at him, now he can't hurt her unless he'd want to. It made him that much eager and indecisive with where to start.

           Baraka freed himself from her bloody paws to have something to lean against, the freed hand rested just behind her back and rubbing over her hip. The contact over her clothes made Diya feel like it left a scorching print on her bare flesh, it sent excited shivers down her spine.

           "Gladly." Baraka throatily rumbled, as if purring with delight.

#Diya #Baraka #Kenshi Takahashi #Johnny Cage #GIRLIE IS LIVING MY DREAM TBH 😩 #Bara's THAT ONE skin makes my brain go bbrrrr @_@ like SIR- did you saw those spikes off or is it that easy to get them off???? what??? #does he feel relief if he gets rid of them #? Like scratching an itch? #Like when you have Psoriasis and you have to scratch it bc it gives you relief?? #mind you I'm living with a person who has Psoriasis and it's nasty. when you scratch the dead skin you bleed so f*cking much #but fortunately It doesn't hurt them. Just relief cuz it itches #so much blood in my life damn #I headcanon Bara has the same with the Tarkat and that it's SOMETIMES painful. depends on the spot ig #he just loses the spikes on his forearm he grows as weapons for a moment so why can't the other spikes around his body do the same 🤷‍♀️ #...... Yes i am making up excuses so the two would have a safe bang session for now #— next time it would be with all the shebang and Bara will be less anxious abt it

[cryptid-writ3s]

A Girl That Wanted To Die Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Too many. There were too many. It made her head spin. If only she could freeze time, and give herself a split second to breathe. Unfortunately, Roseanna did not have the power to control time itself and had to bear her whirling head as she attempted to make her way down the crowded sidewalk. She tried her best to weave in and out of the maliciously multiplying amount of people surrounding her. The close proximity suffocated her. The sidewalk seemed to grow smaller and smaller, with so many people breathing heavily along with their loud morning sighs. The intoxicating perfumes and colognes that were strong from not having been worn off so early in the day were overwhelming her senses. They seemed to leave no air left for poor, fragile Roseanna. 

In and out, Roseanna thought to herself. 

Just breathe in and out.

They were watching her. Watching her. Her, Roseanna. They were all watching her, or at least she felt like they were. She was acting weird. She was weird. Right? She wasn’t normal. They were watching her. They had to be. She didn’t belong. A strange sight. Like a three legged flamingo, or a two headed cat, or one of those hairless cats that people seem to hate, or a strange distorted image of what a functioning human should be. Grotesquely deformed in looks and personality. She belonged in one of those sketchy fair attractions. Those ones where you can pay to go into a creepy looking striped tent to see what equally creepy workers claim to be half snake, half woman. Propped up on a stage for everyone to observe and wonder how such an incorrect form of a living being could exist. Sticking out in all the worst ways possible. She had to be. Roseanna continued to take deep breaths as her mind tried to focus on anything besides the seemingly thousands of people surrounding her. She had just a little bit more to go before she reached the bakery she worked at. Her mind rattled with thoughts of her trying to convince herself she could make it.

The anxious girl continued her breathing exercises as she continued near her destination with her head down, eyes desperately focused on each careful step she took. She thought for a moment that she would be ok, but after years of fighting a losing battle, she should have known better. 

And suddenly in the middle of chaos, one last overbearing sound could be heard above the rest. 

*Ding*

Roseanna froze in place.

*Ding*

*Ding*

Fumbling in her jacket pocket, she searched for her phone. With shaky hands, she retrieved the source of the little sounds that kept occuring. 

[3 new messages]

*Ding*

[4 new messages]

Despite the fear that now ransacked her very being at the anticipation of what she knew the messages might contain, Roseanna opened the messages, hoping it would be something other than she suspected.

Unknown: I see you, little Rosie.

Of course she could see Roseanna. She always saw her. She saw everything. Always watching. Always waiting. She felt last night's dinner creep up her throat. Her chest closing in on her heart. Suffocating it. In and out, she thought to herself. Just breathe in and out. 

Unknown: I’m watching you so desperately attempt to breathe.

Unknown: You know that never works. 

Unknown: Everyone can breathe, Roseanna. Do you really think something as simple as a deep breath will suddenly make you less of a coward? 

Nearly frozen with fear, the girl slowly began to type back.

Roseanna: Leave me alone

typing…

Unknown: Why hello, little Rosie. I was worried you would continue ignoring me.

Roseanna read the message and tried to just ignore it. If she couldn’t see it, it wasn't there. If it wasn’t there, she had less to be anxious about. She wished she could be a child again, unable to grasp the concept of object permanence. If only she could forget about those who trouble her when they’re not standing before her or illuminating on her screen.

*Ding*

[1 new message]

Roseanna didn’t want to read any more messages, but the idea of not knowing what they said raised her anxiety even more. It was as though she had no control over the matter. As much as she wished to shut the messages out, she was bound to see them. 

Unknown: Are you ignoring me again? How rude. 

Typing…

Unknown: Although it wasn't quite as rude as stopping in the middle of that very crowded sidewalk.

Unknown: That man up ahead, the one with the brown leather jacket. Go ahead and look, little Rosie. 

Roseanna looked up from her phone and scanned the area around her till her eyes landed on a disgruntled middle aged man, waiting for a glowing image of a man to appear, indicating that he could cross the street. 

Unknown: Ah, you do see.

Unknown: He nearly bumped right into the back of you. You should have seen the glare he gave you Roseanna! Ha! You probably just ruined that man's morning!”

Roseanna's face flushed as feelings of guilt and embarrassment took over. She wished a giant sinkhole would appear right beneath her. Large enough to swallow her whole, but small enough as to not inconvenience anyone more than she already had. She stood frozen in place as the messages continued to flood in.

Unknown: Ha!

Unknown: Ha!

Unknown: Ha! Ha!

Unknown: Ha! Ha! Ha!

Unknown: Ha!

Unknown: Ha! Ha!

It seemed as though Roseanna’s adversary had resulted in simply spamming her in an attempt to keep her shame from fading. The quivering girl tried to ignore what had just happened. Tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But she could practically hear the written laughter she had received, along with the continuous dings that came with every line sent. It was loud. Too loud. It sent bells ringing throughout Roseanna's head, along with the illusion of laughter. She couldn’t take it anymore. It had to stop. It needed to stop. Roseanna needed it to stop. It caused her to halt mid-step. She couldn't seem to move. She couldn't bring herself to walk. She covered her ears with her hands in desperation.

*Ding*

The laughter got louder.

Ha.

The dings got louder.

Ha.

She bared her eyes shut as hard as she could.

*Ding*

Her throat tightened.

*Ding*

The wails of laughter like stormy rain, grew louder and louder inside her brain.

Ha. 

Her breathing was as ragged as her overworn jacket.

Ha. 

She crouched down against the side of one of the buildings that were towering ominously over her, tears beginning to stream from her eyes. The more she tried to ignore it, the stronger it grew.

Then suddenly, the laughter stopped and the dinging paused. A sharp chill fell over Roseanna as her breath was held. 

A small ding could be lightly heard once again. Roseanna looked down at the device in her hand.

Unknown: Well, would you look at that?

Unknown: What a scene you’re making, Roseanna. I mean really. There is no need to be so worked up over a little bit of laughter. 

Unknown: You must learn to stop being so dramatic, dear. It’s embarrassing. 

Every word cut deep into Roseanna's skin. Leaving mark after mark. Covering her in scars that she did nothing to deserve.

Unknown: Honestly darling, this is just ridiculous. I mean, you’re in the way of all those people.

Roseanna's breath started back and soon became rapid.

Unknown: How selfish can you be, Roseanna? They all have places to be. Can’t you see that they’re in a hurry? You’re slowing them down.

Unknown: You’re going to make them late, little Rosie. They all hate you.

Roseanna wanted to get up. She wished she could walk down the sidewalk like everyone else. All she wanted was to be like everyone else. Why couldn't she be like everyone else? A normal flesh covered skeleton who could function the way other flesh covered skeletons expected it to.

Unknown: What a sight you are for all these people right now. 

Unknown: I bet they’re all gonna go tell their coworkers, family, friends, and maybe even strangers about the psychotic girl they saw on the sidewalk. There could be someone videoing. Maybe I’m videoing you… Who knows, you might end up on social media. Your little pity party could even go viral and then everyone can tell you just how pathetic you are.

Although the words were cruel and effective, they started to fade from Roseanna's head. There were too many thoughts filling her mind that she couldn’t make sense of any of them. All she could hear was noise. Loud noise. It overtook her. Caught her in a trace. Trapped her where she was. She broke out into a cold sweat. Her breathing was rapid. Her heart beat so fast she feared she may have been dying. Chest so tight, she thought her heart would be crushed. And if the tightness didn’t kill her, surely the weight she felt would. 

Roseanna thought back to when she was younger. A tornado was nearing her school. Knelled close to the ground with her hand covering her head as though her small bones would protect her from harm, she feared for her life. She thought it was her final moments. She, and those around her, panicked knowing their possible death was nearing. She felt the same now as she did then, but then she knew the tornado would either pass or kill her. One way or another, it would eventually end. She feared this would not. The tornado turned its course. She was able to escape a physical storm, but she was certain she could never escape the storm in her mind. 

“Excuse me, miss.” Said an unfamiliar voice. However, Roseanna was too lost in her own mind to hear her.

“Miss.” The stranger continued but failed once again.

Roseanna then suddenly felt a pair of arms around her.

“It’s ok, hun.” The voice said again. Finally, the stranger had pulled Roseanna out of her chained state. 

Roseanna looked at the stranger with wide eyes. The person who had spoken to her was a girl who seemed to be in her mid-twenties. She had beautiful silky black hair that flowed down to her mid-back, and the softest looking dark skin to compliment her kind, yet strong, deep brown eyes. Everything about the girl brought comfort to Roseanna.

“Are you alright?” The stranger asked in a sweet southern accent while giving Roseanna one of the kindest smiles she had ever seen.

“I uh… I- I'm alright. Thank you.” Roseanna meekly answered, embarrassed of the state the girl had found her in. 

“You know these crowded sidewalks can freak me out from time to time.” The girl said with a voice like honey while standing and exchanging a hand to Roseanna to help her up. “I remember one time I was so stressed out by the amount of people, that I crossed the road without even realizing I wasn’t supposed to go yet and almost got hit by a car. Everyone stared. It was mortifying.”

The stranger chuckled at herself and Roseanna stared at her in wonder. Was she trying to cheer Roseanna up? Why? They didn’t know each other. She could have kept walking. She probably had somewhere to be, yet, while everyone else passed by, she was taking time out of her day to comfort a complete stranger. 

“Well,” The girl continued now that they both were standing, “Do you need anything? Do you wanna go sit somewhere and get coffee or anything to help you relax? Actually coffee can make people anxious, what about tea then?”

“No, that's ok. I have to be at work soon.” Roseanna answered while looking around to see if anyone was still staring. Most had moved on. Roseanna then thought more about the offer the girl had given her. As much as Roseanna would like to get to know her more, the thought of sitting down and having to start a conversation with a stranger was terrifying, and Roseanna would rather suffer through her more routine work interactions. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course! I’m Indira, by the way.” The girl, who Roseanna now knew as Indira, said as she extended her hand.

“I’m Roseanna.” 

“Well Roseanna, it’s nice to have met you.”

“You too,” Roseanna responded, finally showing the girl a smile and shaking her extanded hand. “U-um, I should probably get going to work now.” 

“Oh, of course! You don’t want to be late. Goodbye, and good luck at work today, Roseanna!” Indira said as she gave Roseanna one last smile and a reassuring nod before heading off with a wave.

Roseanna watched the girl as she faded from view. Although Indira may have shown Roseanna a mere simple act of kindness, it meant more to Roseanna than she could ever know. Roseanna knew that she would probably never see the girl again, but her good deed would rest within Roseanna’s heart throughout the day. See, Roseanna had a great deal of gratitude to all those who had shown her warmth over the years and held on to those little bright moments when she was lost in the darkness. 

After Roseanna had fully caught her breath and calmed down, she put her hands in her pockets and hugged her jacket close and warm before checking her watch and suddenly feeling like she was going to shit herself after realizing the time. 

She had three minutes to make it to work by 8:30 am. She was at least five minutes away. Fuck. The girl walked as quickly as she could without actually running, strategically weaving around people in such a way as to not touch a single person. 

She picked up her speed with every step she could. She swiftly walked with the likeness of a cheetah and gracefulness of a swan. Something she had learned over the years to easily escape large crowds. But it was all for not. By the time she arrived at the back of the bakery doors, she was exactly one minute late.

Shit

#literature #writing #book writing #writers on tumblr #books #booklr #author #original story #original character #mental health #mental illness #mental wellness #depression #anxitey

[genshin-utopia]

xiao | memories

note | thank you for the 1000+ followers. I don't deserve it with the lack of updates and motivation. Half a year and I finally decided to write again. This is similar to the "Moments with you" headcanons I do. I hope you like this new series I will be starting with each/most/some characters. Also big thank you to @arthurhastingpoems for betaing! This was suppose to end with smut but lol what happened.

Tags: Established relationship, extremely corny/cheesy lol, hurt/comfort, a tiny bit of violence, fluff, bittersweet if you squint

You never expected to fall deep in love with the man beside you, who’s seldom rough and cold. But also, so soft towards you, as if you were something precious to him. A collection of stories shared between the two of you.

i.

It was rather unexpected when you first discovered you had a peculiar interest in Xiao’s arms or more specifically, his strength. You love how easy it was for Xiao to pick you up, as if you weighed nothing – that raw power that’s contained within. The first time you consciously discovered this fact was when you were playfully wrestling him due to playful banter.

You were both on the sofa, a soft comforter that left you unintentionally drowsy as you sink deeper into a comfortable state. On the other hand, Xiao was seated upright on the other end with a book in his hands. These were rare peaceful days that you both couldn’t afford frequently as duties kept you two occupied and most importantly, separated. As sleep started to overtake your senses, you started poking him lightly with your feet to draw his attention.

The slight twitch in response did not go unnoticed, however his gaze continued to be fixated on the literature in front of him. You, of course, did not mind as much but continued your ministrations to escape your drowsy state.

As time went by, you rose from your laying position and snuggled closer to him, laying your head softly onto his shoulders. You peered over curiously at the pages in front of you. Almost immediately, the words, “Rex Lapis,” neatly printed on the paper caught your eyes. Slightly irked at the fact that Xiao was paying more attention to Zhongli even in this situation, you started slowly tracing his arms with your fingers.

“Stop,” he commanded softly, not sparing a glance at your direction.

You ignored his words, your hands trailing further down to his chest before swiping the book from his hands quickly.

Chuckling to yourself in triumph, you edge yourself towards the other end of the couch, away from him.  However, you can’t escape from Xiao. Within seconds, your back is on the sofa with him hovering above you.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you attempted to stretch your arm, with the book in your hands, up to where Xiao couldn’t reach. That attempt was proven to be futile as his body presses you down with his larger one, ceasing all movement. You continued to squirm away from his grip until suddenly Xiao traps both your wrists above your head with one hand, the book slipping away in the process.

Xiao’s free arm cages your head, not allowing you to look away. He slowly lowers himself to your ear, whispering, “Where are you going?”

Hues of pink flushed your cheeks at his husky voice that was so close to you. Suddenly realizing the precarious position you were in, you shifted your eyes away from his gaze and onto his arms. Despite the initial embarrassment, you loved how he cages you with his arms. Ironically, you felt protected and safe.

Not liking that your gaze was averting from his, he gently lifts your chin with his free fingers, “Look at me.”

You quickly followed his command only to meet his darkening gaze. Hypnotized by his eyes, you squirmed once more but this time to get closer to the source of heat above you. “X-xiao, kiss me.”

He obliged quickly, closing the gap between you and swallowing your whimper. His tongue delves between your lips, unhurried and tender. Xiao has one hand up your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your chest as he steals your oxygen. The slow and soft touches were torturous, you started bucking your hips up impatiently. However, before you can get the friction you so desire, he anchors himself up slightly. His arms are still caging your body, but this time he leaves a small space between the both of you. A small smirk etches onto his face as he looks at your needy expression, wanting more of his touch.

You love his strength and his arms caging you.

But he loves your docile self as a result.

ii.

Xiao is very much like the element he holds.

Like the storm, the wind can be very turbulent.

Yet it can also be soft, gently caressing your cheeks as you walk.

He also has a quirk of disappearing and appearing before your eyes randomly.

Much like right now.

You are currently taking a break on the hilltop after a long commission you just finished. Your back rests on the trunk of the tree perched on top of the hill. Its leaves serve as an umbrella, shielding you from the sun's harsh rays. You close your eyes as the gentle breeze wafts through the air, enjoying a peaceful and tranquil time to yourself.

It has been several days since you’ve last seen Xiao as the both of you are quite busy, especially the latter.

At times like these where you are unoccupied with only your own thoughts accompanying you, you find yourself missing Xiao the most.

You close your eyes, his silhouette forming inside your mind as you start to reminiscence the times you’ve shared with each other.

“Xiao...” You whispered unconsciously.

For the next few seconds, only the leaves soft rustling could be heard.

Just then you sensed a presence in front of you. Your instincts kicked in and you hurriedly open your eyes and unsheathed your weapon.

However, it wasn’t a lone hilichurl in front of you like you expected, but the person you longed for the most.

You quickly sheathed back your sword and stood on your feet, a bright smile adorning your face at the sight of Xiao appearing before you. You ran to his awaiting arms, wrapping your arms around him, and leaning your head on his broad chest. He reciprocated the hug, enclosing your body with his arms. It felt like time halted for the both of you, like nothing existed except you two.

You were snapped out of your trance when you felt a slight weight behind your ears. Curiously, you withdrew from his loving arms and directed your attention to his hands.

“Crystalflies for you,” he stated as his right hand were filled with numerous crystalflies, “I caught more than I intended. I hope you don’t mind.”

Happiness surged through your body; your previous loneliness long forgotten as you took the batch of crystalflies from his hands gratefully.

A small smile carved its way to his face, his gaze softening at your ecstatic self. He combed your hair softly with his right hand, “As I thought you look very nice.”

He leaves a quick kiss to your forehead before disintegrating with the wind.

“If you wish to seek me, call out my name.”

iii.

The sharp arrow plunges into your stomach, halting your movements and loosening your grip on your sword. You felt as if your insides were ripped to shreds by a mere arrow due to your carelessness. You were fulfilling a commission which entails you emptying a hilichurl camp. What was thought to be a simple task became a nightmare as you let your guard down when reinforcements came unexpectedly. You scoffed to yourself at your idiocy for ever letting your guard down in a fight.

A sense of dread overcame your senses, your vision blurring momentarily, and you lose footing for a split second.

Flashes of images depicting your moments with Xiao crossed your mind.

You wonder how he was doing at the moment. Probably also fighting demons like he always did.

You wished to see him right now.

With that thought in mind, you gripped your sword firmly with more determination.

A blue magic circle formulates beneath your feet as you send ice shards at the hilichurl sharpshooters hidden within the trees. You ignore the sharp pain of your stomach at your sudden movement, and instead you diverted your attention at the several Mitachurls with axes surrounding you.

“Come at me you assholes.”

The area immediately became colder as shards of ice flew everywhere. Your stamina is decreasing at an alarming rate as you quickly cleared the area with your sword and magic.

You shoved your sword into the last mitachurl when you heard a distant horn in the distance, signifying to you that there were more to come.

You could no longer ignore the pain of your new wounds all over your body and kneeled slightly while clutching at your stomach.

Were you going to die?

No, you couldn’t.

Just then when all hope was lost, the clear blue sky darkens into a gray hue as the wind around you started to pick up ominously.

Could it be?

“Block it."

Reflexively, at the sound of a very familiar voice, you immediately surround yourself with thick shards of ice and braced yourself.

A turbulent force plunged down from the sky, the surrounding area immediately getting hit by explosive wind, rendering all enemies powerless and dead within seconds. The shards of ice protecting you cracked, before crumbling away. You peered up and met the eyes of Xiao, his normally impassive face deforming into one of pure anger.

“Why?” He gritted out, “Why didn’t you call for me?”

“Because I’m strong,” you managed to mutter out. As if to prove your point, you staggered to get on your feet to demonstrate you didn’t need his help despite the pain consuming your senses.

“No, you humans are weak,” he stated harshly, voice icy cold.

You shook your head, ready to retort. However, whether it was the relief of seeing Xiao again or the fact that you survived the whole ordeal, you couldn’t fight the pain of your wounds. You braced yourself for a harsh drop, but instead something soft embraced you.

You couldn’t figure out what it was before you faded into a deep slumber.

iv.

Drifting in and out of consciousness resulted in your inability to depict what was real and what was fake.

Your wounds from that day were proximately fatal and you spent the majority of the day and nights recuperating.

You would dream of getting impaled by several arrows.

Sometimes you would dream of horrific images of ways you could’ve died that day, like you are right now.

However, before the nightmare could get any further, a green butterfly would always spreads its wings, painting the canvas with new colors instead of the dreadful gray and red images.

The nightmare would disintegrate slowly into shards that would evanesce into a better scenario.

You would open your eyes only to be greeted with golden orbs who covered your vision, “Hurry and go back to sleep.”

Those nights you would dream of a green butterfly accompanying you and circumventing you with warmth.

V.

You have come to a startling conclusion that Xiao was ignoring you for weeks.

Xiao often wanders and if he wasn’t at home or wouldn’t appear out of thin air at your call, you couldn’t pinpoint where he is.

Rummaging through your head, you couldn’t come up with a decisive moment where it led to this.

Clutching onto your soft blanket, you pulled it closer to you for warmth. The spot on the bed adjacent to you felt even more emptier than before.

For weeks you endeavored to dissuade yourself from coming up with the revelation that he doesn’t want to see you. You continued your everyday obligations, diverting yourself with dispiriting thoughts that plagued your mind. Unfortunately, you were at your breaking point, the rain pitter-pattered against your windows made the atmosphere even more dejecting.

Tears formulated at the corner of your eyes and leaks reluctantly down your cheeks.

“Xiao,” you called out softly.

Just then, familiar hands caress your cheeks, wiping away the tears that eluded, “Why are you crying?”

The person you wanted to see the most was now in front of you yet simultaneously was the last person you wanted.

You chuckled monotonously, “Is this a dream?”

Xiao shook his head slightly, hands never once leaving your cheeks. Slight anger submerged within you at his nonchalant attitude as you push his hands away from you. “Why are you here?”

Silence emerged with only the sounds of the rain reverberating around the room. No one moved an inch. You were still sitting up on your bed, clutching onto the white blanket whereas Xiao was standing next to the bedside unnervingly.

You half anticipate him to disintegrate into thin air once more, but what you didn’t expect was him to sit next to you on the bed. He grasps your hands with his, holding it carefully as if you were a porcelain doll ready to shatter at any given moment.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Thousands of rebuttals were ready to be hurled at him, but you waited patiently instead for him to continue. After weeks, you were finally getting some answers.

“One day I might be contaminated with evil itself. These hands...” He trailed off, hands withdrawing from yours.

Your eyes trails from his hands to his face. The moonlight reflecting through the window, illuminates his beautiful face. Now that you gotten a closer look, you realize that he looks tired, worn down from years of torment.

The anger subsided, leaving nothing but love for the man in front of you.

You reach out for his face, lifting him out of his thoughts. Your eyes never left his, hoping to convey your adoration towards the man. You reach out for his rough hands littered with callouses that developed over the years.

You bring his hands to your cheeks, resting on them before leaving a soft kiss onto one of them. “These hands have brought so much happiness. The crystalflies you gathered that day, the soft hands that would comfort me during a nightmare...You’ve done so much.” You crawled onto his lap, resting your forehead on his, hands never once leaving his.

“No matter what, I want to be with you.” With that you closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips onto his. Compacted In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, thousands of loving thoughts condensed into this kiss. Your heartbeats resonated in each other’s ears, and you could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all your senses. You continue to place soft kisses to convey how much you love him, before slowly, detaching yourself from his embrace and resting your forehead against his, “Even if my time is short...”

The two of you remain in the comfort of each other's arms, with only the wind reverberating against the window in this long night. Instead of an everlasting adepti and an ordinary human, it was just Xiao and you, hearts connected. The sand in the hourglass can’t be stopped until it reaches its end, but for now you will enjoy the flow with the person you love most.

#xiao fluff #xiao headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #xiao x reader #xiao #xiao fanfiction #genshin x reader

[spideymarvelws]

Pillow Fort

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

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A/n : Got this idea from when i made a pillow fort in my room cause i was feeling lonely :’) Also this isnt really a part two to behind doors, just a branched off oneshot from further down in there relationship

Summary : Peter is tired from a rough night of patrolling and comes home to you sleeping in your very own pillow fort

Warnings : SMUT! (oral [fem rec], dirty talk, sub/dom dynamics) some nice floofy floof

Word Count : 3.7k

...

Peter had never felt so drained after patrol. 

Maybe it was because he stayed up all night studying for a Physics quiz or that classes throughout the day seemed to drag on because you weren’t there to entertain him with your silly pick up lines you came up with on the go. After his last class ended, he didn’t want to go out as spider-man. All he wanted was to swing by your apartment and cuddle for the rest of the day, but when he heard about a new gang terrorising the city on Mr. Delmer’s radio, he knew he had a responsibility to stop them. 

One gang and a drunk driver later, he found himself landing in front of your window, knocking lightly on the glass. After a few seconds of not getting a response, he assumed you were already asleep. Carefully, he slid open the window, stepping inside your bedroom. He locked the window before taking off his suit with a heavy sigh, leaving him in his boxers, ready to slide into bed with you.

However, as he sat on your bed and his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he noticed that it was stripped bare of any blankets or pillows. He stood straight up, looking around your room until his eyes fell on a deformed structure hidden in the corner.

It was a pillow fort. 

It was flimsy, a significant dip in the roof (he could only imagine how much it annoyed you throughout the process of making it) but it kept hold. The wooden chairs on either side were the only support for the fort, heavy books keeping the sheets secure. It was rickety, but a fort nonetheless.

Peter let out a small sigh, a soft smile forming on his lips as he walked up to the structure, trying to find the entrance in the mountain of blankets. Getting on his knees, he crawled through, his hands and legs ending up on either side of your sleeping form.

“Baby?” He whispered, placing his hand on your cheek, “Sweetheart? Love? Babygirl?” He littered your face with kisses, slowly waking you up.

You let out a loud groan, stretching your arms out and almost knocking the flimsy blanket ceiling. Peter raised himself slightly, trying his best to give you enough room to stretch in the small space

“Shit,” you mumbled, making Peter chucked at your sleepy state, “Oh... Hey Petey,”

“Hey, Y/n/n,” Peter mumbled back, letting out a breathy laugh, “Missed you,”

You raised your hand to push the loose curls falling down in front of his face behind his ear, giggling at the fact that it felt right back in his eye. He blew the strand with his mouth, his nose crunching up cutely when it went right back to tickling the side of his face.

“I need to cut it soon,” he said, lowering himself into your body, his head buried in the middle of your chest like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly in place.

“I strongly disagree,” your said, almost offended at his words as your passed your fingers through his soft, pillowy hair, “Cut it and I’m asking Tony for his blasters,”

“Are you sure he’s going to let you borrow it after last time,” Peter looked up at you, his left cheek squished against your shirt, his lips slightly parted.

“Who says I haven’t been practicing?” You smiled, scratching his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his body melting into yours.

“Oh really?” He mumbled, “I’m going to have to see those skills sometime babe,”

“I don’t know Peter...” you dragged, biting your lip and tugged on his hair gently, “I don’t want to steal your thunder,”

“That confident huh?”

“That I could beat you in a fight, one hundred percent,”

Peter shook his head, “I’m sure you can,”

You gasped at his sarcastic tone, “You have no faith in me!” 

“I never said that,” he pinched your side, raising back on his arms to hover over you.

You pouted angrily, crossing your arms over your chest, “It was implied,”

“Oh was it now?”

“Yes, yes it was,”

Peter rolled his eyes playfully.

“Maybe I just don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Then I’d tell you to go fuck yourself. I’m incapable of getting hurt and I don’t need your protection,” you replied smugly, sticking your tongue out.

“Is that so?”

You hummed in confirmation.

“Okay then,” he grinned, trailing the pads of his fingers up the side of your waist, “Protect yourself from this then!”

His hands pulled the bottom of your shirt up, revealing your stomach. Without hesitation he attacked the soft skin, wiggling his fingers in the places he knew would make you scream. 

“For fucks sake Peter!” your hand shot up to his chest, trying to push him away as the giggles took over your body, your chest bubbling with joy while your breath escaped your lungs.

“Stop! Peter! Oh. My. God. Stop!” you laughed, fists pounding at his hard chest. 

“Then tell me, you wont get those blasters Y/n!” he said, a sinister smirk on his face, “I’m not letting you go until you tell me!”

“I-” you heaved, “Peter! I-” you giggled, “Holu fuck!” god damn did your chest begin to hurt, “Okay! Okay! I won’t get them! Now stop!”

His hands suddenly left your body as he leaned back on his calves to admire the mess he made of you. Your chest raised up and down with desperate breaths to calm your rapid beating heat, your face blown out and your eyes closed in a silent thank you. You sighed, letting your stiff limbs fall back into the cushioning with a thud, relaxing fully. 

It reminded him of a very different scenario other than the aftermath of an innocent tickle fight.

“You know I was having a great time before you showed up,” you murmured after a while.

“I find that hard to believe,”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really, I’m amazing!”

“You’re a monster.”

“Your monster though,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” you paused, opening one eye to look up at him, “You’re still not cutting your hair though,”

“You’re still on this!”

“It was the point of this whole conversation! Of course I’m still on this-”

“Oh, that's it.”

With your one eye still closed, you let out a surprised hum, circling your arms around Peter’s neck, as his lips met onto yours. You sighed into the kiss, his body relaxing into yours while his hands trailed the side of your body once more, lifting your left thigh against his waist. The kiss became hungrier, soon both your tongues became entangled with each other. You didn’t bother to fight for dominance, knowing Peter already took that role when his hand rested on your ass, squeezing tightly at the skin.

“I hate you,” he mumbled, pulling back and pressing his forehead on yours.

“Sure seems like it Petey,” you whispered, voice low and sultry.

With a low growl, he smashed his lips back on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. God you loved getting him riled up, as much as you loved your shy, little nerd, the other side of him you saw in bed turned you on more than you could think of as you slipped into sub space.

But you didn't want to do it in something as unstable as a pillow fort.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he whispered into your mouth, moving to your jaw and down your throat.

“Peter,” You groaned, pushing on his shoulders lightly, “Not here, baby.”

Sucking on your collar bone, Peter mumbled, “Why not?”

“I don’t- fuck,” you gasped as Peter pulled up your shirt and latched his lips onto your nipple, massaging the other with his hand, “I don’t think fucking in an unstable pillow fort is going to be really advisable,”

“Don’t knock it till you try it right?” He snickered, moving his lips to the other nipple.

“Were going to knock the fucking thing down,” you grunted, bitting down on your finger while the other grabbed the sheets underneath you.

“Well it’s either here or your bare mattress,” he whispered, raising his head back up near yours, tugging at the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head, leaving you in just your panties, “You decide.”

“You ride a tough bargain Peter,” you whispered back, biting your lip at the darkness in his eyes.

He continued down your body, his voice deep with lust, “You know me princess,” he placed a kiss on your stomach, moving down your hips before reaching the side of your thighs, taking them in his hands, “I like when you beg,”

You groaned at his words, throwing your head back as his lips hovered over your clothed core for a split second. But he avoided contact at all costs, focusing on biting and sucking on your thigh, moving between the left and right and getting closer to the place you wanted him the most.

“Peter,” you whined, running your hand through his hair, tugging at his locks once again.

“I thought you heard me earlier princess,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your heat closer to his face, “I want you to beg,”

You groaned, not wanting to give in. But the light kisses to your clit and his hands moving up and down your thighs, you didn’t know how long you could resist before you broke.

“Come on pretty girl,” he bit the inside of your thigh, sucking the skin to form a bruise, “Beg for it, beg for what you want so badly,”

You tucked your head into your shoulder, “Touch me peter,” you mumbled, yelping when he slapped your thigh.

“Louder pretty girl,”

“Oh god, touch me Peter! Touch my pussy, please,” you said audibly, your hands shooting to his hair, desperate for something to hold onto.

Without any further discussion, Peter teared off your underwear and buried his face between your thighs, lapping at the juices that started to escape your lips minutes before and continued flowing onto his tongue. If there was something he loved more than life itself, it was your taste. Nothing could match up to the sweet nectar that your body gave him. He loved giving you pleasure that nobody else could. He glanced up at you, head thrown back, thighs closing in around his face as your hands pushed him deeper into your core.

If there was a heaven, this is what he imagined it would be.

He shook his head, flicking his tongue deeper inside of you before moving up to suck your on your clit gently. One of his arms stayed securely on your waist, keeping you down so you didn’t destroy the structure around you while the other moved closer to your heat. He tested the waters by gliding his warm finger tip over your cunt and slipping it in, paying attention to your body’s reactions, jerking and tensing under him.

“More,” you whimpered, “More, please Peter,”

“What was that baby? Did my needy girl want more than what I’m giving her?” his laugh sent vibrations up your torso, “What did I say?”

“To- to beg,”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Peter, Peter please give me more, I want it faster, harder, anything! Just please!” you cried, jerking your hips off the ground but his strength held you down.

“Good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger while quickening his pace. His mouth stayed working around your sensitive bud, brushing his tongue along it like he was painting a precious artwork. 

His fingers however were ferocious, pumping in and out of you at an inhuman rate. Your juices began to soak the sheets beneath you, hips grinding back down like the desperate whore you were, pulling his digits deeper inside you.

“Peter, I’m- i’m gonna cum,” your legs began to shake, your voice rising higher and higher while you orgasm approached, “Please Peter! Can I cum? Can I cum?” 

“Go on baby, cum for me, cum in my mouth, cum all over my fingers,” his fingers moved impossibly faster, plunging in and out of your pussy, “Fall apart for me princess.”

You screamed when your high hit, your back arching out of his control. He slowed his movements, sailing you through it, prolonging it for as long as possible. When your body slumped back on the floor, he trailed his lips back up your stomach, staining your skin with your cum. He pushed his lips on yours, moaning as you devoured his mouth, drinking up every last drop.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You ready for more princess?”

All you could muster was a nod, playing it off as exhaustion from your recent high. Even after a years of dating, you were still as closed off and shy from when he met you in bed, holding back your precious voice from him. He tried his best to keep you talking, to tell you that screaming like a banshee was all he ever wanted. But every time you came back from your euphoric state, you were always self conscious of doing something wrong or saying something out of line.

He was determined to make that your biggest confidence using the little things he picked up along the way.

“Come one princess,” he muttered groggily, moving to your neck and kissing your pulse point, nibbling and sucking on the skin, “I’m not going to do anything if you don’t speak up,”

You looked up at him with doe eyes, a completely different person from the one that was bickering with him earlier. One that was willing to do anything and everything he wanted. But he wanted tonight to be about you, he wanted to do what you wanted, to pleasure and worship you the way you deserve.

It was your pillow fort he was about to fuck you in after all.

“I- uh, you could do what you were… you know, going to do?”

“And what was that sweetheart?” 

Heat rose to your face, you hid your head in your shoulder in an attempt to avoid saying such vulgar words. Peter only squinted his eyes, the gears in his head turning as he thought of something to get you to speak up.

“Alright then,” he smirked, “Have it your way.”

You watched with curious eyes while he slipped out of boxers, taking his hard cock in his hand and guiding it to your puffy hole. He slowly unsheathed himself inside you, resisting the urge to pull back out and slam right back into you. You were always so tight around him, and your uncontrollable clenching just destroyed him even more. 

In one swift motion, he turned the both of you over, careful to keep his chest pressed against yours so you didn’t raise up and mess up the fort.

“There we go,” he sighed, letting you settle comfortably in the new position with your hands pressed against his shoulder and legs on either side of his waist, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Peter I-”

“Ah, ah, ah, my turn to speak now princess,” he cut you off, squeezing your hips when you moved around a bit too much for his liking, “Now, we’re going to work on our communication skills okay? Meaning, everything you’re feeling as I fuck you, I want you to tell me. And by everything, I mean every detail princess,” he lowered his voice, “I want to know how my cock feels inside of you, what goes through your mind while you fuck yourself sensless,” He rutted his hips up, smiling when you fell further against his chest, whimpering into his neck.

“I. Want. To. Hear. Every. Word,” he punctuated each word with the thrust of his hips, “Or else this ends, you got that princess,?”

You instinctively nodded but quickly caught yourself, “Yes Peter,”

“That’s my good little princess,” he took your cheek into his palm, bringing your head and to press his forehead against his, “Ready?”

“Yes Petey,” you nodded, letting out a shaky moan when he started bouncing you up and down his length, meeting you halfway.

“Go on princess,”

“It- it feels good,” you stuttered, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure and not Peter’s lustful eyes staring back at you, “You’re… you’re really big Peter. Stretching… me out… so, so good,”

“Good girl,” he groaned, quickening his pace with every word, “Keep going.”

“I… I-” you slumped fully against his chest, “I can’t, all i feel is you Petey. I- I can’t think, all I… I could only feel-”

“Then tell me what you feel Y/n, tell me everything.”

“Amazing… so- so full and deep.” your fingers digged into his skin, “Could you go faster? Please Peter, I- I need more,”

“Anything for you princess,” he mumbled, planting his feet on the floor and ramming into you at the same pace he did with his fingers.

“Ah fuck!” you tightened your arms around his neck, “Peter! Oh god Peter! I- I-”

“Are you close princess? Gonna cum on my cock?”

You nodded into his neck, all you could manage was a whimper, “Yes… can- can i?”

“Go ahead princess, cum on my cock… you deserve it,”

You bit down on the skin of his neck, trying to keep your head from throwing itself back. Peter stilled his hips, filling you up with his seed while keeping you close, sighing as shot up into you. You sunk into his body, your breath hot against his skin while you regained your energy, snuggling closer for comfort.

In the silence that followed, Peter couldn't help but chuckle.

“Round two then?”

...

“Soo,” Peter whispered softly, crawling back into the sheets and lying besides you, “Why the pillow fort,”

You cuddled closer to his bare chest, letting out a soft breath once your cheek made contact with the warm skin. No matter how cold the air around him got, you could always count on your boyfriend to be your own personal heater.

“Was feelin’ lonely,” you mumbled, letting out a big yawn, “And I got bored,”

Peter chuckled, running his hand down your bare back sending shivers up your spine, “It’s nice, comfortable,”

“Yeah, I did a pretty good job didn’t I?” You smiled, curling your legs around his, “Took me three tries to get it right,”

“Three tries?”

“Well my college dorm doesn't really have much stuff to work with now does it,” you looked up at him with hooded eyes, blinking slowly while jabbing your finger into his left peck drowsily, “Would’ve been easier if my boyfriend came earlier though,”

“I thought you liked that I lasted long-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“That’s not what you said a few minutes ago,” He laughed when you smacked his chest, placing a sweet peck to your forehead as an apology, “And I’m sorry for being late, got caught up with some bad guys and well… you know the drill,”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” You hid your face in his neck, snuggling in closer to his body, “Shouldn’t you be back at the house by now?”

He sighed. Harry had asked him to help out with cleaning up the house for your hopeful arrival in the next couple of days. Him and the rest of the boys planned out the week already, and today’s plan was to fix up the place and set new rules that kept it that way. But seeing you lying besides him, glowing like an angel by his side... words couldn't describe the emotions he felt in that moment. All he knew was that he couldn't wait, he felt like he waited long enough.

That this could be the perfect, special moment he hoped for.

“They could survive without me for one night,” His hand tightened around you, “I- uh, actually came here to ask you about something until we got... well, distracted,” he laughed lightly. 

You hummed, acknowledging his statement and urging him to continue.

“I was wondering if you would want to move in with me?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you sat up on your elbow to look at him directly, “You’re saying you want me to- you want us to live together? With everyone?”

You felt Peter clam up under your palm, biting his lip as he avoided your gaze, “I mean, you’ve already met everyone and they all love you, probably way more than me. And I can’t you know, guarantee your safety here not to mention i have to disable all the cameras around the block if i want to swing into your window and, and-” he took a deep breath, taking your face in his hands, “That and I really love you, and I would love to take this step with you, only if you want to,”

You immediately engulfed up into a tight hug, awkwardly fitting yourself in his hold but you could hardly care about your uncomfortable position.

“Of course I would move in with you peter,” you smiled, pulling back to look at him, “Honestly, I’m growing tired of this small place anyways,”

“Good, that’s good,” he bit his lip, trying to suppress the urge to screech at the top of his lungs at the thought of your ever saying yes, “We- we’d sort all of this out in the morning,”

“Of course, of course,” you nudged your nose against his, “In the morning,”

Before he could lean in to kiss you, he heard something fall on the floor with a thud and without warning the sheets above you fell, slapping the both of you in the face.

“Maybe chairs with wheels wasn't the best choice for this,” you giggled, pushing up the sheets from your head.

“You think?” Peter joked along with you, helping to get rid of fabric blocking your eyesight.

He witnessed the blanket being pulled off of you, relieving your glowing skin and bright smile staring back at him. He knew he was taking the right step with you, he knew that you were the one for him because with a simple look or touch you made him a complete mess. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were around his.

And he couldn't be happier.

“To the bed?” he whispered.

“To the bed.” you responded, finally locking your lips on his, sealing in your love in the now fallen pillow fort.

...

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction #marvel smut #fratboy!peter #frat!peter #fratboy!peter paker x reader #fratboy!peter parker #college!peter parker #college!peter #college!peter parker x reader

[mypoisonedvine]

Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned.  “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend.  not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular.  you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve.  it was sort of a comedy of errors, really.  you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.  

things change for boys and girls in middle school.  guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much.  girls, though... girls need to be sharp.  it’s eat or be eaten.  and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early.  it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it.  and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.  

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins.  they laughed at you.  for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again.  so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart.  and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it.  he called you out.  he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.”  that was what he said.  and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation.  and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls.  so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve?  as if.  did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket?  and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed.  it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock.  she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it.  and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that.  tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors.  so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own.  you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke.  when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong.  (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant.  didn’t even help you pay for the abortion.  he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’.  and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years.  you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview.  and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor.  you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide.  he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit.  you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name.  and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded.  “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office.  you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all.  you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you.  “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you.  take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile.  an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?” 

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged.  “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked.  he just grinned.  “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly.  “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me.  I understand.  I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied.  “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school.  your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one.  have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money?  yeah,” you admitted.  

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms.  “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now.  I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed.  “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention.  “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat.  you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed.  “you’re just underqualified.  but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that.  “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one.  so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad.  but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that.  all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that.  “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job.  what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking.  and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned.  “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash.  maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse.  maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed.  “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you.  “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards.  “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly.  when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face.  and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned.  “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more.  you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck.  you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth?  god, you’re so fucking desperate.  just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth.  he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed.  “so much better when you just do what you’re told.  I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth.  now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it.  can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans.  get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told.  he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained.  “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock?  poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.  “good.  cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly.  you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in.  “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust.  his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place.  makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped. 

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy?  is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly.  he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby?  want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead.  “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his.  “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would.  such a good girl for me, huh?  such a good little slut.  want me to use you, baby?  take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible.  but it felt good.  so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” 

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls.  you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed.  “see what you do to me?  fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on.  you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek.  you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing.  “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”

#dark!steve rogers x reader #ceo!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers hc #dark!steve rogers smut #Anonymous

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

oooh may i request eren with a female s/o who doesn't put up with his bullshit? Like when he gets jealous n stuff

So I turned this into a break up fic because why not!? I live to hurt my own self while writing. I was listening to Noir By Sunmi while writing this hence the title.

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Tags: angst, breaking up, seriously angst, modern au

Warnings: mentions of jealousy, angst, seriously. Just angst.

Noir

There is a despicable attire masking the way you're looking at Eren. The feeling that's boiling in the depths of your chest as you're sitting across from him on your kitchen table is indescribable. It's mixture of anger and determination, merged with heavy specs of remorse, whether it is for yourself or him, you haven't decided yet.

Your reflection in the glass of the kitchen table is mocking you. In it you can see a few of the cupboards behind you, you can see your inox fridge that's decorated in numerous small polaroids and you can see your hair, being messy and tousled, just like it always is when you're staying indoors. But you- no, your face. Your face looks deformed and blank, lost in the aggravating aspects of an angered expression.

Setting your eyes to any where but Eren isnt a simple task. Rather, you find no interest in looking at the borders between the marble tiles of the floor. They were plain and annoying to look at, but if you could you'd pretend they could calm you down. Keeping your huff in though, you alternate your gaze onto the top of the counter, onto the tap of the sink. You squint, pretending to take a good notice of the forms that light reflects into the object.

"I just don't want other guys being too touchy with you." Eren groans.

"Aren't we over this?" You roll your eyes.

"Yes, just pointing out that you wouldn't like that either."

There he goes again and you can't help but immediately snap your orbs to his direction. You have lost count of how many times he has mentioned it in only the span of five hours. He mentioned in while taking a shower, he mentioned it while working out, be mentioned it while cooking yet you've chosen to ignore him. Yet you know that ignorance doesn't benefit anyone, ever.

And you shouldn't act as if you're surprised, especially since you haven't addressed this. This is Eren. This has always been Eren. Expressing your concerns to Eren about how you feel he should trust you more has never worked, why should it work now?

"Eren, I can trust you that you won't let anyone do that!? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, but."

"But?"

"I don't trust what others want to do to you. And what if you give in? Did you just wake up one day and decided to just devote ourself to me specifially?"

Eren is bitterly jealous. There's this spite that's hiding the aqua lines of his eyes, this sour mood that he always carries around when he gets in it. This stops him from being able to eat even slightly to normal; his hands are nervous and sweaty, his fork is abandoned to the side of his plate, his thumbs tapping onto the flat sides of his plate as if he's waiting for a response. There's not even the hint of a crump going down his throat, more so there's not a single bite taken off of his sandwich.

"Eren no one was touchy with me. Jean, Reiner, Armin, Marco... these are literally our friends since school!" You speak, munching onto your own food.

"I know."

"Then? Want to talk about it?"

You hate the way you make it sound like it's okay to casually be tender to him when he's judging you but you've been munching onto that bite of your cold noodles for a long time now. Your throat is refusing to take down bites anymore in result of you having stuffed your mouth to the full. It's an effort to shush yourself, to silence that voice that begs to come out and speak words you might regret.

"It's just." Eren pauses.

And you wait for his words to come out. By tapping your own hand onto the the glass of the table, you fixate your gaze onto Eren's uncomfortable form. You watch as his face gets buried to the palms of his hands, you watch as he refuses to face you while he clicks his tongue. His foot is rapidly tapping onto the floor, his hair is being pulled back by his fingers. The loud exhales he takes are indicators to the heavy weight that's sitting on his chest.

"It's so hard for me because I imagine you being with others, I don't want anyone to get their hands on something that's mine. And it's driving me crazy (y/n)."

Out of spite you push your eyes to the side. Facing Eren isn't something you feel like you're free to do at the moment. It's horrendous that you have to answer to that. Your heart is alternating between hammering inside your chest and dropping to your stomach. Your mind is confused as to what you should begin to think, or say. This is Eren, you keep repeating to your self, your spongy brain though is refusing to believe it.

It makes you wonder; Is this a time to be kind or is the last straw?

"Eren this is destroying you isn't it?"

Eren nods and then hides inside the neck of his hoodie, he pulls his sleeves over his palms and brings his elbows to the top of the table, setting them down as he leaned his face into his now clenched fists. You take it upon you to swallow that amount of food that's in your mouth up until now and when you do it goes down your throat dryly, painfully even. Your eyes are somewhat stinging, tiny little droplets are already starting to form in their corners.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore."

"It's destroying me too. Your jealousy."

Your chest rises and falls, your eye brows furrowing paid fully over your eyes as you look down. You can feel the gaze that's fixated on you; Eren is burning holes through your form with his piercing gaze, even if you can't see it it's a fact that you can't help but ignore. You heart the clenching of your teeth as your jaw locks onto place, trying to salvage every aspect of what can be saved between you and Eren.

"Then what did you suggest we do?" Eren quarries with a soft voice, his arm reaching out to wiggle underneath the grip you have of your face and hair.

"I-"

Maybe you can try. Couples try and fight for each other. And then things are supposed to get better. When you're down he's supposed to help you reach the top and you're supposed to do that too. It just doesn't feel like that with Eren anymore. You feel like Eren is holding you back, you feel like he's digging and delving into the past in such way that present doesn't matter to him anymore. You hate to think that it's not healthy to stay with each other anymore. If you weren't so exhausted by this being your new reality, you would be willing to try.

Your hands move reluctantly from their grip on your head, your thumbs shivering as you moved then down and along Eren's cubits. You trace imaginary lines over his slightly olive skin. Your fingers, shaking as much as your thumb work into taking his hands on yours, as you're pressing your palms onto his knuckles slightly.

"Maybe we should take a break from each other."

Your lips feel lighter than air as you mouth the words, still you're more concerned about how Eren is taking the sentence up. It's not easy to digest; you moved your eyes onto his form and suddenly they're stuck there, that pained expression is suppressing your lips in a puckered state, harsh lines spreading all over the volume of your lips.

"I didn't say this for you to tell me that."

Eren throws his hands in a orbit that's years of light away from yours. He's not touching you anymore, and you lose every ounce of affection in your body. The stinging tears that had threatened to fall are starting to vanish, hiding inside the sponge tissue of the corners of your eyes. A shiver runs through you as you watch Eren's nervous foot stop it's rhythm.

"I know."

"I'm sorry. I've talked about this with you so many times. And I'm just not feeling like I can do this anymore. I wish I could fight about us even more, but I can't be the only one fighting. I feel horrible for saying this but Eren, saying this sentence felt liberating for me. I feel free."

"There's no need to explain yourself. It's fine. Fine. I made you feel this way and yeah." Eren bit his lip as he spoke.

"I didn't think we'd end like this."

"Me neither." He snarls.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be." His nose scrunches as he sniffles.

His eyes trace the uneaten sandwich in his plate, then they followed a forbidden path to you. But before he meets your eyes, he snaps his gaze back to what he was originally eyeing to distract himself. He wants to lash out, he wants to shout, but for what he doesn't know. It is rather odd to just sprout nonsense to someone who doesn't want to be standing across from him just because his devotions belonged to them up until second day ago.

Thus he bites on the inside of his cheek, pointy teeth digging into the soft flesh with fury, opening holes that he knows will be a pain in the ass before they heal again.

Without him, you'll be free. The phrase is a loop that's repeating into his head like a snap to reality.

Eren watchea as you bite your top lip and push your chair backwards, prompting your self up and away from the table, with your lips pushed into a thin line. He can see that it feels like a walk of shame, from your point in the kitchen to the sink, the way that your feet sound when clashing with the tiles of the floor indicate your need to not disturb him further. As if you're pitying him.

Eren grows to hate the way your pity presents it self. As if he is sick. But you are right.

"I'll go to sleep to Sasha's tonight and I'll come get my stuff tomorrow." You announced, without ever turning to look at him.

If he can work on himself he can try to get you back, he thinks and sighs. Nontheless he refuses to reply; he hasn't been given a right to reply to such statement. He can only let you go, and try not to be swallowed by the suffocating thought of you moving on without him.

At least now you can be free of that.

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @puredivinity @ackermans-freedom-inc @callmepromise @nobody-knows-anymore @berrijam @lzrers

#eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager #snk eren #eren jaeger #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #aot x reader #snk season 4 #aot season 4

[loser-hub]

All For One.

Summary: There needs to be more content for this gloriously sinister man and I am more than happy to provide! How does it begin? Will you escape his clutches or will you submit to his desires?

Warnings: Yandere Tendencies, Kidnapping, Mild mention of Starvation, Dubcon, Quirk use during sex, Mind-Break and a whole host of degeneracy.

Notes: I tried to make the reader as vague as I possibly could for insert pleasure! GN with as few details as possible so it could be anyone or anything! This is 18+, minors dni. If you'd like to block any content of this nature on my page please put Tw: Heavy Spice in your filtering options!

A/N: I really don't know if I should apologize for this or not, you can see the point it got out of hand so please be warned and take your tastes and limits into account while reading!

A terrible fate has befallen you, hasn't it?

Your meeting was rather innocuous. So easily forgotten despite the feelings time with him supplanted. Long before his debut in the Kamino Ward and before his defeat at the hands of the Symbol of Peace. He wasn't heavily deformed then, he could easily mix in with the crowds and disappear as quickly as he appeared. His shaggy white hair and piercing blue eyes matched only by his stature and smile, the consensus of the humdrum day-to-day passerby was that he was quite attractive. Not that he ever entertained their mindless and painfully obvious observations.

The fateful event happened rather cliché all things considered. It began in a library. Wonders never ceased and he was unsure what compelled him to enter the home of knowledge and entertainment but he never once regretted it. Wandering the sea of books he looked for anything that would pique his interest, he nearly gave up the search until his eyes landed on you. An innocent, tiny thing that perused the history section for your latest essay or project, he never specifically asked why you were there.

He was captivated, captured by your beauty. Staring there at the entrance of the aisle for so long that when you turned you shrieked, believing him to be a well dressed Weeping Angel that you had read about the night before. That was the most embarrassing moment of your life as you apologized to him and to the librarian that zipped to the location to scold you about being too loud. For once he found apologies endearing, cute even, adorable if you feel so inclined and the sheer shock that a creature like you could exist in this world was pushed to the wayside.

The encounter was swift but profound, for him at least. Using his towering height to pull a book from the shelf you were too short to reach and place with the over growing collection. You were stuttering and blushing something fierce underneath his gaze and he had to stop himself from smirking at your bashfulness. He asks for your name and once you divulge it he responds by insisting you call him Mr. Shigaraki. After more insistence from either side hearing his name fall from your lips was like he was graced with hearing the voice of an Angel.

Sadly that's where the meeting ended as your time was up for whatever was going to take up your time next and you needed to scurry away. You wouldn't be forgotten as your face was forever burned in his memory, a fondness churning in the pit of his stomach. He believed everyone else was beneath him, save for his brother, who were all ants that needed to be squashed. You were different and he needed to find out why.

Time passes, as it always does. You forgot your encounter with Mr. Shigaraki and life went on. The day started off oddly, you couldn't place why but the hairs at the back of your neck stood on end. A lingering sense of doom settled in your mind like a dense fog on a dewy spring morning but whatever the reason had yet to reveal itself. This too was forgotten as the day progressed until it was late, late enough for you to seek refuge in your bed. About to drift off to sleep when suddenly your whole room shook, no, the entire area shook like an earthquake had just opened the earth beneath your feet. Looking out your bedroom window you saw chaos, the entire area had been decimated and nothing but rubble remained. Heroes had appeared and began evacuating just in time for your home to collapse.

You drifted in and out of consciousness. The moments where your eyelids were opened you saw none other than All Might, the Symbol of Peace, face down a masked villain in a suit. Shock was written on the hero's face when you called out to him for help, accidentally gaining the attention of the villain as well. If he still had eyes they would be wide and manic, he had not forgotten you of course but there you were. He had searched for you so fervently and yet here you were right under his nose. Your presence, he could feel it using that quirk from the cat rescuer and he instantly knew it was you. What luck. The fight was abandoned when he saw this was his best chance, the rest of the heroes were too focused on fighting off his pawns and All Might was too wounded to move.

In an instant the masked villain moved the rubble that had been pinning you in place and whisked you away.

Your fear was intoxicating. The pleas, begs and sobs that you cried were more delicious than anything he had ever experienced. More euphoric than any narcotic, sweeter than ambrosia. The beats of your hands on his back drowned out by the drumming of his heart, his mouth was beginning to water. He could hardly wait.

Like any self respecting villain All For One had many, many hideouts and safe houses. Many hadn't been used in years, others were still unknown to the heroes, then there was one. The place he took you was far more special, the place he had planned to bring you after that fateful day but never used when you slipped away. Well, you wouldn't escape this time.

For a place that hadn't seen life in years it was surprisingly well kept. Not a speck of dust laid on any surface, a few lightbulbs had died or exploded when he flipped on the lights but the water still ran and there was heat, it would do nicely for the time being. During the short trip via warp gate you had passed out, the silence when it had been delicious begs was disappointing but his signature smile appeared. There would be plenty of time to hear you cry while he breaks you into the perfect doll.

After your "retrieval" he places you on the never before used emperor sized bed and retreats to the lounge chair at your bedside. He sits perfectly still, staring at you much, admiring how much you changed and grew in his absence. A hint of pride bubbles up, he's pleased to know the lovely being he remembers became even fairer and more perfect. The feat would be impossible for any other person but you were made for him, you're his, and you had to be for a man such as him.

When you wake up those beautiful, blissful begs are heard by his worthy ears once again. Behind his life support helmet he sighs, a heavenly breath that you take for annoyance. You cry. "Please don't kill me", "Don't hurt me", "I'll do anything" but oh sweet thing, you're going to do anything he says regardless. You're his. Why would he hurt or kill you? If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead.

It comes as a surprise that he's afraid to remove his facial cover. He might be the Symbol of Evil with plans of world domination but there's a portion of him that is a slave to your desires, just as the world is a slave to his. A sliver of doubt appears as you ask who he is, if he reveals his identity and you ask for proof, his disfigured appearance would revolt you. No blue eyes to see you blush, no hair for you to run your hands through, no lips to feel yours on his.

"Mr. Shigaraki" was the clue he gave you. It was adorable seeing your face go blank as your mind was wracked trying to remember the face. He watched with bated breath as your eyes showed recognition, you remembered him. You remember his face, his smile, his feeling. That wasn't helpful, now you had a face to the person who kidnapped you. Who was holding you captive for...what? Ransom? To be tortured? To be his plaything? Every possibility was worse than the last, each one more dire and inescapable and bleak.

He did his best to comfort you albeit in a deleterious manner. The Emperor of Darkness' weight was displaced from the lounge chair and moved to the bed, his near gigantic form towering over you. Knee pressing into the mattress, causing your body to naturally shift into him. You couldn't move. There was no gap to dash through if your body would get over being paralyzed in fear. The hand that could cover your head was placed on your cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness, a soft gesture that was masked by the sinister appearance staring down at you.

"Fear not, My Sweet." His voice is slightly muffled by the life support, the emotions were unbridled, intense and all together unhinged. He's wholeheartedly delusional, diluted enough to believe he's going to the the greatest Demon Lord who ever lived and would dismantle the world, rule it all the while having your love. He craves it, he needs it, he's desperate for it. It drives him mad and being this close to you sends him to the brink of insanity.

Your limitless stubbornness is as wonderful as it is infuriating. All For One can't have the object of his love be a pushover from the gate, at least not yet. He has to experience the pleasure of breaking you, making you submit to him before you're allowed to follow his orders. He has to make you his Doll first, his obedient, beautiful Doll. That's a tall order and as the days pass his desperation grows. The itch in the back of his mind needed to be scratched and it was becoming clear his tactics were having the effect he desired. You stymied his every attempt, reacted the exact opposite of how he expected. He loved it, the last flame of your fighting spirit getting snuffed out in his raging insistence. He was beginning to wear you down, headway was being made and the inevitable end result was near.

All For One's machinations had increased in cruelness, once he had left you enough water to last a week and nothing else. The food vanished and all you were left with were bottles of water. He was gone for two weeks, it only took ten for you to teeter on the edge of sanity. Devoid of any interaction from the outside world. Only you, your thoughts and the dwindling "supplies". When he returned he was pleased he was greeted with showers of affection, your touch was smothering and your body was pressed to his as close as humanly possible. The last of your will had fled in his absence and now his Doll was in the perfect state to mould to his liking.

That night it begins. You're so needy, so greedy. He decides to indulge you and removes his helmet, confident you wouldn't be repulsed by his scarred visage. He's correct of course, when you were met with the invitation to express your desperation you take it. Your lips wander. Pressing messy and half-opened kisses to his neck, jaw, and whatever remained of his own lips as his massive hands lead you towards the bed. You don't notice until the back of your knees hit the edge and suddenly you're falling.

He's on you in an instant. The bed sinks with his added weight and the heat he radiated replaced the warmth provided by your clothes. Before you knew it his thick yet dexterous fingers were pushing into your hole unprompted, sheathing them down to the knuckle before they were retracted. He was going to take immense satisfaction by making you climax until you were babbling incoherently before even preparing you for his villainous cock.

Which was exactly what he did, denying you orgasm until you were red in the face and sobbing. All For One sat back on his knees in victory, smirking as he watched you wiggle and writhe at the loss of attention. There was one final thing: hearing you finally give into him. He owned your body but he needed to own your mind, your soul, your spirit, everything.

"Say it." In the moment his voice was low, gruff, reverberating throughout your clouded mind to send heat straight down to your nethers. You might've been aroused before but nothing compared to what his voice did to you.

"S-s-say w-wh-wha?" Barely able to form a sentence you willed yourself to speak, if only to repeat whatever he wanted so he would continue with his mind numbing ministrations. The lack of sending you in a desperate rut the likes of which you had never experienced. He was cruel, further denying you what you wanted. His hand so near to your skin that the tiny peach hairs picked up the presence but when your hips bucked to force him to touch you? He left entirely.

"Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, to ruin your body, to corrupt your mind and make you mine. Mine alone."

That was quite the mouthful and you weren't sure if you could say it back but that's what he wanted. Mustering your frenzied will you commanded yourself to speak, to plead for what you so desperately wanted. "Please, please fuck me. Please I need you, I need you, please make me yours. I want to be yours, please!"

Every second, every breath, every thought had been leading up to this moment. All For One was in Seventh Heaven upon hearing your final submittance, exultantly triumphant. Your reward was swiftly delivered, the bulbous head of his cock pressed against the entrance of your hole and with one swift thrust he inserted himself to the hilt. The sharp edge of his hips cutting against the plush of your inner thighs, it hurt, it hurt so much. He had prepared you, scissoring and stretching you, it wasn't enough. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the full stuffing of his cock inside you was enough to make you regret begging him to fuck you, sensing this he didn't move. Giving you time to adjust and acclimate while licking away your salty tears. The heat of his heavy breath oddly comforting.

Once your filled hole stopped fluttering all bets were off. His hips snapped expeditiously in the customary manner of fucking ones Doll till they came undone and fell into unconscious from the exhaustion and pleasure they felt. He was unrestrained. The initial softness and care he showed was the furthest thing in his mind now all that was left was a feral need to fuck his Doll till they were bedbound. He makes sure you know who owns you, using his numerous quirks to let you there was no escape. Musculoskeletal Coiling to make his already bed shattering thrusts harder. Proliferation, creating several pairs of arms and hands to tease you in places all at once. Reaching to grasp at your neck, fingers tweaking your oversensitive nipples all the while more teased and played with places unimaginable. Once using his Air Walk quirk to suspend you both amidst the impactful love-making.

Time had no meaning. Whatever seconds you counted to remember how many times he had made you climax were a distant dream, black spots appeared in your vision, your body somehow numb and pained all at once. The lightest touch was like you had been set on fire. In one particularly lucid moment you swore a drop of his milky cum was sliding past your nose but you don't remember blowing him or snorting it out but in the haze who knows what had happened. Finally the peaceful sleep wrapped you in its arms and carried you off to a safer place for a time.

Just as you passed out All For One finally came. Engorging you to the very brim, his fingers acting as a stopper to keep his demonic cum from spilling out. Whatever was left of the wrecked bed was used as All For One took your limp, sleeping body and wrapped you up in the soiled duvet.

The afterglow shone brightly like a halo while he laid with you. Keeping you flush against him. The plotting began again. Awaiting your eventual awakening to show you the other quirks at his disposal. He was far from done with you. It hadn't been a day since your submission and he intended to keep you as his Doll till you were well and old and your last breath was the escape from his eternal love.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #all for one #afo #mha afo #bnha afo #afo x reader #all for one x reader #tw: heavy spice #tw: yandere #tw: kidnapping #tw: dubcon #tw: mild starvation #tw: quirk use #tw: mind-break #tw: doll

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite (Casetello)

AN: do these two have a ship name? Caseytello? eh whatever it’s casey x donnie and they’re gay

special thanks to cal for reading this for me and saying i should post it <3

There were quite a lot of things Casey Jones loved. Hockey, pizza, riding his motorcycle, video games, beating the crap out of his opponents. Normal teenage stuff. Lately he had been doing the latter, ever since he and April officially joined the 'Unofficial Turtles Team' , helping alongside the teen mutants on patrol. Goofing off with Mikey and Raph were the highlights, but he couldn't deny spending extra time with April was also a benefit. Even if they barely got a single word out- too busy fighting off random mutants scattering the city, it was still nice.

But what wasn't nice, downright unpleasant about patrol...was Donatello. There was an unspoken, mutual loathing that the pair shared that even quick glances at each other led to glaring and arguing. Leaving them together in the same room was never a good idea. Casey hasn't understood why the purple genius was so hostile towards him at first. But the reasons became obvious the first time he caught him staring helplessly at April, fumbling his words and blushing profusely. Not that Casey didn't feel similarly, heck, that was the problem. Both were attracted to April. Obviously Casey had the upper hand, being human. A turtle and a human girl in a relationship was built for disaster.

But their hatred didn't stop there. It wasn't just about April.  Eventually, everything about Donatello annoyed him. His whiny voice, his love for using complicated words to sound superior, soon every little thing bugged him.

Things were easier if the two stayed as far apart as possible.

Of course, fate seemed to work in mysterious ways.

It was starting to get late, the moonlight illuminating the sky. The group stopped on a rooftop, perched by the edge. Leo halted them silently, then turned around.

"Why'd you stop, Fearless?" Raph asked.

"I think we should split up. We'll cover more ground. If you see any sign of trouble, use your T-Phones." said Leo.

"No way dudes!" Mikey squeaked. "I saw this scary movie last night where the team split up! And then..." He paused for dramatic effect. "They all got taken out one by one. Starting with the cute funny one!" He trembled, hiding behind Donnie, who rolled his eyes.

Raph smirked, always prepared for a sassy remark. "Which means, you'll be just fine since you're neither of those."

"Hey!"

"And you'll be in pairs." Leo crossed his arms. "I've got it all planned out. Raph and April. Mikey and me."

"Mikey and I." Donnie corrected under his breath. Casey fought the urge to whack the smart aleck turtle with his hockey stick.

Leo ignored him. "Donnie and Casey-"

Casey involuntary let out a loud groan. Just his luck.

Leo narrowed his blue eyes, unamused. "Something wrong, Jones?"

"Er..." His eyes darted to Donatello, who seemed stoic, but equally frustrated with this predicament. On one hand, he wanted to argue and beg to be with literally anyone else. On the other, he didn't want to deal with the leader in blue getting annoyed with him.  "Nah Leo, that's fine by me. Right, D?"

Donnie huffed. "Yeah, that's alright."

"I think this will be good for you both." April grinned.

"Of course, April." Donnie agreed.

"No problem at all." Casey smiled through gritted teeth. When she turned away, they both shared an equally menacing glare.

"I knew I could count on you two." April smiled softly, though even she didn't look entirely convinced.

This was going to be a long night.

~•~

Turns out, Casey had underestimated the scrawny (ugh, svelte) turtle. In what Donnie lacked in muscle, he gained with his speed, mobility and of course, his mind. It was practically impossible to keep up once Donatello had leaped from the first building, tumbling and landing with ease, while Casey was coughing his lungs out as he ran desperately after the brainy terrapin.

"Okay, now you're just showing off." He panted irritably, nearly collapsing once he finally caught up with him.

"Are you coming or not?" Donnie gave his trademark gap tooth grin as he turned, slowing down.

"I am! You're just moving too fast!" Casey complained. "I thought turtles were supposed to be slow! I didn't even have time to get my grappling hook."

Donnie shrugged, ending the conversation with one simple movement.

They walked side by side, neither wanting to say anything. They both knew it would only end in arguing.

"Can I just say-" Casey started.

"No, you can't."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Exactly."

"Listen, Gap Tooth, I don't like this either!" He flicked a stone off the roof with his shoe. "But we have to ..." He swallowed. "work together, right?"

Donnie said nothing. He looked deep in thought.

"Is it because of April? Because it's not my fault she...y'know likes me more."

At the mention of April, Donnie turned away, eyes flashed with hurt, which only filled Casey with that annoying feeling of guilt.

"It isn't about her."

"Alright." Silence. "Sorry, let's just-" He cleared his throat. "Let's just work together, we don't need to be friends. Just get through the mission. After that, we can go back to hating each other."

"That was...surprisingly mature, Jones. Glad we can agree on something." Donnie quipped. "And for once, you're right. This mission is more important than our petty squabbles. No matter how insufferable you may be."

"Now you're just making up words."

Donnie fought the urge to roll his eyes. "So, that's two more hours of this."

Casey scoffed, but couldn't help but chuckle. Quietly of course. Last thing he wanted was for Donnie to think he was actually amusing.

"So...deal?"

"Deal." Donnie said, then added: "Cave Mouth." Which made Casey shove him lightly.

For a brief moment, they seemed to share a mutual understanding. The silence that followed wasn't awkward or forced, it was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as they could possibly be.

Donnie paused, startled by something. Lifting his bō carefully, he tried to follow whatever the sound was.

"What the-" Casey raised an eyebrow.

"Shh!" He hissed. "Do you hear that?"

"No?" Casey scrunched his nose, listening closely. It sounded like a...buzzing noise? Like a fly or mosquito. Irritating, but not dangerous. "Chill Don, it's just a bug or something."

"No, listen!" The turtle looked frantic and alert.

The buzzing became louder. Then, it was followed by the sound of snapping wood. Deliberate and exact. Casey gulped, taking his own weapon.

A massive shadow flew over their heads and landed in front of them. Donnie yelped in surprise, stumbling forward.

"Ah, shell." He swore, lifting his head to face the hideous insectoid mutant with acid green eyes. Scumbug spread his deformed wings, antenayes raised, prepared to strike.

"Well, I was right. That definitely is a bug. Scumbug! Wicked! This'll be fun!" Casey sneered.

"Which makes no sense, considering stag beetles aren't even bugs! They're insects!" Donnie spun his staff like a propeller, hitting the mutant face on.

"Not the time!" Casey tackled Scumbug, who roared, jostling him aside like a ragdoll. He smacked the floor with a sickening thud, directly on his arm. He fought back a scream of agony.  "Do you- gah- seriously have to be such a know it all, all the time?" He looked at his arm, which currently looked seriously messed up.

Donnie looked affronted. "I am not a know it all!"

"Yes you are!" Another whack of his trusty hockey stick, followed by a knock to the ground, face first. He wiped his mouth from the metallic taste of blood.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you- Donnie, look out!" Casey shrieked, sounding less manly than he intended.

Scumbug, now furious, had efficiently used his enemies' bickering to his advantage. Before he could turn around, a spider web twirled from its appendages binding Donatello to the ground, who kicked and struggled furiously.

The mutant now crouched over the captured turtle, prepared to strike with his signature acid spit.

"Hang on, D! Casey Jones is here to save the day! GOONGALA!" He bellowed, racing towards Scumbug and latching onto him like a demented parasite. It was hardly the most graceful of moves, but it distracted him briefly.

He raised his hockey stick, poking him hard in the eye in an attempt to gouge them. Eyes were sensitive- he remembered Splinter telling him that.

With the extra time, Donnie reached for his bō, ripping the web apart with the extended naginata blade.

Scumbug, now looking more disheveled and horrifically disfigured than normal, retreated blindly into the misty air.

"I didn't need your help." Donnie said bitterly.

"Aw, is that any way to say thank you?" Casey retorted. "I just saved your shell." He poked his plastron roughly. "I think I deserve a little appreciation for my heroism."

"I had it handled."

"Did you? Because you looked just about ready to be eaten by Scumbug."

Donatello scowled, moving closer. "And he got away. So your heroism didn't exactly work, did it?"

"Would you rather have acid stuck to your face?" Casey growled. "You'd look even freakier than you do now. Next time you're a little 'turtle in distress' don't expect me to come save your-"

"I didn't need saving." Their foreheads pressed together, any moment ready to face each other on.

Casey gritted his teeth. "Sure, whatever you say. I didn't help because I actually cared about you or anything."

"Then why did you?" Donnie snapped, pulling away. "You could have left me."

"Because I- you- argh!" Casey felt his temper rising. "Because I'm not a monster, alright? We're a team, and we help each other. That's the deal." He wiped his chapped lips again, the disgusting taste of blood still lingering. He winced, clutching his arm.

"I can patch you up at the lair." Donnie said softly. "It just looks sprained."

"Mm." Casey grumbled, still pissed. Stubbornness was taking over any injury he had. He'd rather have his arm stay at this awkward angle than admit he was hurt in front of his rival. "I'll just wrap it up at home. I'll be fine."

Donnie sighed, raising his palm to his face. "Don't be so stubborn, I can help you."

Casey didn't look convinced.

"To repay the favor?" His warm brown eyes looked surprisingly sincere. "You did help me, after all. I'd probably be toast if you didn't."

Casey snorted. "You got that right."

A beat. Donnie looked unsure, as if he wanted to say something else. But whatever it was, it was holding him back.

"So...we should go back to the lair then?" Casey suggested, easing the awkwardness.

"Huh? Yes, of course. Totally. " Donnie nodded. "Naturally."

"Alright then."

"Jones?"

Casey turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say...thanks."

"Hey, no problem. But don't tell anyone I saved your ass."

"Deal."

~•~

Casey never expected to be sitting in Donnie's lab table, in between Timothy the blob-organ filled mutant and several bunsen burners, but life tended to be weird that way. He also didn’t expect to be pouting on said table like he was at some freaky doctor’s office. The rest of the team returned shortly after them, and seemed surprised that Donnie was actually willing to fix Casey's arm- and not begrudgingly.

Donnie returned with a first aid kit, setting it on the table. He hummed a familiar tune to himself, as if to fill the empty air of any more awkwardness.

"I've seen these before." Casey said, poking the bunsen burner tap, immediately then swatted away by Donatello. "At my school's science lab."

Donnie nodded, rolling up Casey's sleeve to examine his bare arm. Casey flinched, not comfortable with the random act of touching. "Hey don't!"

"Do you want your arm fixed or not?"

"...yeah."

"Then let me work my magic."

Casey frowned, staring at the bottle the turtle was holding. "Your magic looks like antibiotics and advil."

Donnie's lip twitched.

After his arm was treated somewhat, Donnie wrapped him up gently with a clean bandage. The slow movement made his heart race increase every time Donnie's fingertips brushed his arm, but he ignored it.

Don't be weird, Jones.

"That should be good. Don't put any pressure on it." said Donnie, passing him the advil. "And take this, it'll soothe the pain."

Casey pretended to look offended. "Here I thought you were gonna kiss it better."

Donnie rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Don't push it, Jones. We aren't there yet."

Casey laughed. "Yet. Thanks for fixin' my arm, D. You...aren't so bad, I guess. But let's go back to hating each other, alright?"

Donnie smirked. "Whatever you say."

#tmnt #teenage muant ninja turtles #donatello #casey jones #caseytello #casetello #do they even have a ship name #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #fanfic #tmnt 2012 #i miss them #author is sleep deprived #jonestello #is that their ship name? #they're gay your honor

[opalsdarkreadings]

hello, firstly congrats on 100 followers, secondly i can't believe it took me this long to find your blog, thirdly may i please request 17 and 20 with sukuna from the prompt list? anyways i hope you have a lovely day/night

Pairing: Sukuna x gender neutral reader.

Notes: Aww thanks 🥰. Makes my heart melt and you have great day/night too! I’m sorry for the wait! I’ve started working :) but don’t be scared to flood my inbox I’m still looking for requests!

Warning: small dose of angst, depressive themes?(i think)

Prompts: 17. “ Hold my hand, you’re gonna be fine.” 20. How stupid are you?”

“How stupid are you?” A rough voice said sharply behind you. You whip your head back, a certain pink hair individual stood in the frame of the door. Their scowl was prominent as they emerge from the door into the room. In an effort to cover up the attmept to walk on your own, you collapse back quickly into the stiff sheets and grins back meekly to him.

“I-I umm....had to use the rest room..” You said quickly. Casting your gaze down over your feet, Sukuna harsh stare making your shiver under his gaze. You heard the soft squeak of sneakers walking over the polished floor, making your heart pound with each step he took.

You hoped he didn’t prey further, you’re heart and mental state, unable to bare whatever harsh words that’ll fall form his lips. You knew you were burden, you just didn’t want to hear that from a curse with no fliter. After you’re near-death experience and failure to defeat the 1st-grade curse, the higher-ups treated you like nothing but a deformed toy after the incident. Their sneers to you having reached the depths of your heart and psyche, would make you burst into tears at the thought of their words.

Maybe that was you’re problem? You need to show others that you could hold out on your own. Your need to show others that you didn’t need to be scowled and coddled like a child. You too were strong? You could fights, you could win.

...why won’t anyone believe you?

No matter your pleads for a second chance, they fell over death ears, shattering your spirits. If you were just given a chance, small sliver lining you would show them. You’ll show them all what they threw away, you knew you had the potential... you just needed a chance.

Which brought you back to Sukuna, who stood arms cross before you and his glaring eyes having no mercy as they scan over your pathetic state. But yet a questions plagued you.

“W-why do you keep coming here, the others don’t bother to visit....So why do you force Yuji to come and help me?” You question, having had this sitting over your mind for a while. Yuji and Sukuna had taken their time out of the day to come and see you at least twice a week to help with your recovery. Though Yuji showed no sign of annoyance you knew he was and made you want drop your head in embarrassment.

You were so weak, someone as blunt and honest as Yuji had even started given you fake smiles to lessen the blows. Honestly how pathetic could you get.

However his words shocked you.

“...for a small evaluation, to put it bluntly. Sense i have no reason to hid my true intentions. You’ve intrest me to say the least.” Sukuna deeper voice spoke as he stood near the cushion chair with a bored expression. I mean, even after those conservative bastards at the head, threw you out you cling so desperately to the glory and fame you’ve been wanting. Honestly it’s amusing to see you cling to such hope and dreams.” A small smirk found their way to his lips as he glance to you.

You face feeling like a furnace as the King of curses read you like a book.

“You’re so weak, always acting as if you’re made of stone. When you’re nothing more then flesh and blood, weak penetrable skin that takes nothing but single hit to break through. You’re not a grade 1 sorcerer, barely a two, it makes me laugh seeing you try and act tough when you’re nothing more then child.” He spat back. You heart shattering further, feeling a pool of tears just gather at your eyes.

You couldn’t see but a frowns found it’s way over his cocky expression and he shifted his body to slightly stand closer to you. His eyes darting away from yours, Like he was nervous?

You drop your head out of embarrassment from behind scowled, and sighs out. “I-I...I know.” You mumbles under your breath. Hands gripping each other into a tight hold, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You hated this...this feeling of weakness and helplessness. It plagued every time your eyes closed. Feeling comfined by the small walls of the hospital room, made you feel like mouse trapped In a cage. Your longing to be out there, to help your team, to be by their side as they fight these creatures. It made your chest ache, “I-I’m sor-sorry I’m really sorry.” You whispered, tears cascading down to your cheek

With you head lowered and tears blocking your vision, Sukuna frowned as he tried to reevaluate his words before speaking agian.

“Tch, don’t interrupt me.” He snapped back before speaking again. “Your technique was sloppy and frantic towards the end. If you would have stayed put none of the other would have died for your pathetic life in exchanges. Those old men had every right of let you go, your a burden that tried to act like the hero when you’re barley able to keep it together on your own.” He told you, each world hitting you like brick as he spoke. Saying it yourself, you’ve come to accept the jabs thrown at you, but hearing them being picked out with dissected to be thrown back to your face by someone else just felt like a different ball game.

“As sloppy as you were... you have room for improvements. He told you, face stotic yet there was a certain softness to his eyes as he looked down to you. “Maybe if you weren’t so irrational, you would have been able to properly set up your domain or give a clear boost from your technique...” he mumbles, trying hard to not stare at your shock expression.

“What...what are you trying to say?” You asked getting whipflash from how fast he switched from cocky and cruel, to concern and full of patience like a teacher. A soft rustling filled your ears sand you glance to his outstretched hand with wide eyes.

“Hold my hand, your gonna be fine....” You’re naive and little stupid, but you have potential.” He mumbles a soft dust of pink falling over his cheeks. Your hands slides into his, fitting comfortable into the palm. You didn’t want to believe it but maybe, the king of curses was trying to help you? In his own very rude way but help nonetheless.

“Don’t make me regret my choice.” He told you, the markings slowly disappearing and Yuji pink hair falling back down, along with the extra pair of eyes closeing too.

This was chance, your help that you’ve been desperate to have. It came in the form of a sarcastic blood thirsty demon, but you can’t be picky right?

You smile, “yeah I won’t.”

#sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #Jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen Sukuna #100 followers #requested still open!

[michals]

Klaus and Luther during the time the latter is in a coma so he's kinda a semi ghost maybe?

Congrats, you get the long one!

-

When Luther opens his eyes it takes a moment for him to realize something’s off. Something’s…wrong. The last thing he remembers is an explosion and an intense, burning pain all over and then suddenly just, nothing. He recognizes the ceiling above him, he’s in the infirmary. So he had been hurt, but he feels fine now. Fine enough even to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed and get to his feet.

Only he doesn’t, he can’t have because he’s looking down at himself still on the table, asleep. That’s definitely wrong. There’s a strange prickling in the back of his mind, a thought that can’t break through the wall of cotton wool in his head. What he does register is that the him on the table’s beard is too shaggy and his hair at least an inch longer than it should be. He never lets himself go like this, he needs to ask mom for a haircut.

His skin’s different too. There’s patches of scarring across his chest, shoulders, all the way down his torso and up his neck but the texture’s not right, and it looks almost gray. And his muscles don’t really look like that do they? They look too bulky, deformed somehow.

He looks down at his hands, his hands, not this sleeping version’s. They’re too large, too blunt, too strange. He thinks he should be concerned; maybe behind the wall of wool there’s a spark of panic trying to catch but it just…doesn’t. Maybe dad’s around, he’ll know what’s happening.

The house is dark as he walks the halls, the clock in the foyer tells him it’s nearly 3 A.M. So dad’s asleep, Luther shouldn’t bother him. And mom and Pogo are sleeping too. It’s fine, he’s not worried. He doesn’t think he’s worried.

He stands in the foyer, in the spill of light from the streetlamps through the windows, when he feels a strange sensation in his chest. It’s as if something’s pulling him, not roughly but firm, like there’s a rope around his heart. It doesn’t hurt, just feels odd, but it’s the strongest thing he’s felt since he woke up. It wants him to do to the door. He’s not sure why he goes, he just knows he should. When he reaches up to turn the doorknob his hand phases through it.

Oh. That’s wrong.

The rope gives a tug, he steps through the door.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, just follows the lead, putting one foot in front of the other. He’s barefoot. He hadn’t noticed that. The ground’s wet but he doesn’t feel it. He knows that because of his powers he doesn’t get cold or hot like normal people, but he should be able to feel puddles. Concern scratches distantly at the edge of his mind, sharper now. It’ll make sense when he gets where’s he’s going, won’t it?

The streets are mostly empty, only occasionally does he pass someone waiting for a bus, a man sweeping the sidewalk, a couple of homeless people sleeping in doorways. No one notices him.

He’s got to be pretty far from the house by now. He doesn’t know the city but the pull’s getting stronger; he’s close to wherever it is he needs to be. It leads him around the corner of an alleyway, a dim lightbulb burning over a backdoor to a convenience store where a figure stands hunched over, trying to light a cigarette.

“Fucking useless thing,’” the man mutters, trying to hold the lighter still with shaking hands.

The rope drops away, a knot untied. Luther knows him.

“Klaus?”

Klaus looks up, peers at Luther from behind the greasy curls in front of his face, then turns back to the uncooperative lighter. “Sorry man, don’t have anything for you, last five bucks went to this pack.”

Luther takes a couple steps closer, hesitant. He hasn’t seen Klaus in at least…5 years? Has it been 5 years? “Klaus, what’s going on?”

Klaus looks up again, irritation on his face until he pauses and actually gets a good look at him. “Luther? That you?” Luther just nods. Klaus barks out a laugh that echoes in the alleyway.

“What in the hell are you doing here?! Didn’t figure this for your kind of scene, if I’d known you were coming I’d have cleaned up a bit.” He giggles again, high and giddy. Luther takes another step into the light and Klaus squints at him, rubs his own chin. “Looking a little scraggly there though bro.”

Luther reaches up to touch his beard. He’s surprised he can actually feel the scratchy texture of it.

“Lose your shirt too? And your shoes?” Klaus asks, then teasingly, “Aah! Have you been gambling Luther Hargreeves? What would daddy say?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Luther says. “Something else happened. I think.”

Klaus flicks the lighter again. Finally it catches and he gives a little cheer of triumph as he lights his cigarette. When he turns Luther’s way again, face now lit by the glow of the cigarette, Luther can see how his eyes are glassy, pupils wide.

“You weren’t, like, looking for me were you?” Klaus asks.

No, Luther wasn’t. Actually: “No, you were calling for me.” Because he realizes now that’s what it was, what was leading him here.

Klaus’s face scrunches in confusion. “Huh? No, don’t think I was.” He points this thumb towards the door that goes to the store, “They don’t let me use the phone in there anymore and besides, I don’t have two nickels to rub together.” He turns out the pockets on his ragged jacket to prove it.

“No, it wasn’t like that. Something pulled me, it was you-” Luther shakes his head again, wishes he could clear it of the haze inside. It’s not as bad as when he woke up, if only he could break through it, if that spark could just burn away the wool…

Klaus stills, his eyes go wide and skin paler than it already is. He holds out shaking hands. “No. No, hold on, wait. Luther – fuck – Luther what was this thing? This-this thing, the something else happening thing?”

“There was an accident,” Luther says and there’s a faint sensation of stinging across his chest, a vague memory of shocking pain. “An explosion-”

“No,” Klaus slouches like his strings have been cut, “Oh fuck no. Come on! Not you too! This is-” He clenches his hands in his hair. “This is bullshit! You can’t be…you can’t be dead too!”

Wait, no, that’s not right- “I’m not dead,” Luther says. “I- I’m pretty sure I’m not.” How can he not know?

Klaus looks at him with narrowed, cautious eyes, takes a step forward and holds a hand out in front of him. He doesn’t touch Luther, stops just a few inches away but the fear and panic washes off his face, replaced with confusion again.

“You’re not,” he says. And with that Luther knows he isn’t either. A sudden certainty.

“You’re not like the others,” Klaus continues, “I can just…tell. Also usually when I’m this far gone I can’t even see-” he stops, eyes darting around the alleyway. He shakes himself. He gestures to Luther’s chest, “What is this by the way?”

Luther looks down at his chest, at the off-color, coarse skin. “I don’t actually know.” A spike of concern, finally. Each second that passes he feels like his mind’s coming back to him.

Klaus sighs heavily, scrubs his hands across his face. “So you’re like, visiting? Or some out of body shit. Or this is a very weird trip I’m having. You came because I called for you?”

“Yeah, it was like,” Luther pauses, “like you reached out for me.” It had felt nice, actually; he woke up so confused but the pull had felt so secure.

Klaus pauses, the cigarette slowly turning to ash between his fingers. “You know, actually- come here.” He tilts his head and gives Luther a wave indicating for him to follow.

Klaus’s boots splash in the puddles pooling in the holes in the asphalt, Luther walks through them and doesn’t even create a ripple. Klaus stops at the mouth of the alleyway, points across the street.

A yellow and orange sign announces the modest little diner sitting there as ‘Griddy’s’. Luther hadn’t even realized he’d made it this far through town.

“I saw that,” Klaus says, leaning against the wall of the building, “got hit with a whole bunch of memories.”

And so does Luther now. Images of him and his siblings crowded around a box of doughnuts at a cheap laminate table, arguing over who got the last one, making up stories to the waitress about their uniforms and why they were out so late. He can even hear the chiming of the bell on the door clear as anything.

“And the one I thought of most,” Klaus says, watching Luther from the corner of his eye, “is after that fight with the Murder Magician that I fucked up. Remember? Almost got shot?”

Luther remembers. Klaus had missed his cue in the plan, a henchman got the drop on him. But Luther’d gotten there quick enough, knocked the guy across the room, but he’d rode a wave of adrenaline and dread for the rest of the night at the thought of Klaus being shot.

Klaus continues, “And dad laid into me as soon as we got home. He was so pissed.” Klaus puts on a mock Reginald accent, “He said ‘what do you have to say for yourself?’ But before I could say anything you said…‘I’ll try harder next time’.”

“Because I should have,” Luther says without even thinking, just like back then, “I didn’t explain the plan well enough, I was supposed to make sure you knew what you were supposed to do.”

Klaus tilts his head against the wall, something breaking through the mist in his eyes. “You threw him off so bad, he didn’t know what to say. So he just sent us to bed without dinner. In all the years that was the only night that it was your idea to go to Griddy’s.”

Klaus had walked next to Luther the whole way there and back, made sure Luther got first pick when the box came to the table.

A low roll of thunder comes from far off, heralding the first few drops of rain. In moments it becomes a steady drizzle. Klaus pulls his jacket up over his head, looks around for any kind of cover, makes a dash for an awning up the block. Luther follows slowly, still can’t process the fact that he can’t feel anything, the rain falling right through him.

Klaus stumbles as he hits the stoop of the building, flails unsteadily on his feet before catching himself. His head wavers dizzily. Luther almost reaches out but knows he won’t be able to help.

“Why that memory?” he asks.

Klaus gives a half-hearted laugh, waves his hand flippantly. “Oh ya know, no real reason. Not like I’m bothered when some shrink calls me ‘hopeless’ anymore.”

The rain gets stronger, louder. Luther doesn’t know what to say.

“Same old same old. Guess he got sick of me. When they kicked me out of the rehab he said, ‘what do you have to say for yourself?’” Klaus finally looks at Luther, “Then I came across Griddy’s. Guess it made me wish you were there.”

The haze in Luther’s head is turning into static now, not enough to choke his emotions anymore. When Klaus says that a stab of emotion shoots through clear and sharp. It’s something like regret. Regret that he hadn’tbeen there, but of course he couldn’t have been.

“How’d it happen?” Klaus asks, “the accident?”

Luther takes a harsh breath in, but his body tells him he doesn’t actually need to. When he speaks he’s surprised to his hear his voice is rough, “It was a mission. Chemical factory, a vat exploded. I didn’t move out of the way in time.”

Klaus’s brow furrows. “A mission? You still go on those?”

“Of course. I’m still in the Academy.” He is the Academy.

Klaus opens his mouth but stops, he sways on his feet again. After a second he comes back. “By yourself?”

Luther just nods. He looks out into the street, at the convenience store, at Griddy’s, at the way the rain hits the tops of parked cars. His mind is settling, like the rain’s washing away the rest of the static. He feels far away from the him back in the infirmary, asleep on the medical table. He rubs his thumb over his knobby knuckles, thinks again that something’s wrong.

“Well maybe next time I’ll tag along,” Klaus says, “Dad’ll let me, right?”

He absolutely wouldn’t and asking would go horribly, but still Luther feels himself smile.

Klaus sees this and grins wide, “Tell you what! We’ll do the same thing: I’ll distract the vat of acid and you take it out.”

That makes them both laugh, but Klaus’s is high and manic and he throws himself so off balance he falls back hard on the concrete stoop. Luther drops to a crouch next to him, concern replacing amusement.

It takes a minute for Klaus to settle, for his eyes to refocus. The smile he gives is loopy but there’s guilt in it. “Lu, I have to be honest with you. Just before you showed up I, eh, took something, and it’s starting to kick in. I’m probably gonna lose you here soon.”

Oh. Luther nods. He looks back out into the rain. Wishes he could walk out and feel it. He’s never stood in the rain on the street.

“Hey, hey,” Klaus says, pulling his attention back, “how about I call you for real? Like on the phone, not in my weird ghost-y way.”

Luther doesn’t know why his heart constricts so suddenly and painfully. He’d like that. A lot. “Tomorrow?”

Klaus nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, tomorrow. Dad never answers the phone anyway, mom or Pogo will definitely let me say hi.”

“Okay, yeah, tomorrow,” Luther says. His voice is shaking. Why’s his voice shaking? Why’s he so scared all of a sudden?

Klaus’s eyes are glassy again, his cheeks are red, he smiles weakly but he’s already getting further away. “Alright Lu.”

For a second the world seems to stop, Luther sees blue light at the edge of his vision.

-

Grace works quickly to administer the antibiotics into Luther’s IV, checking the line and the intravenous fluids. She’d noticed his blood pressure drop earlier, took care to take some tests. When they came back there was too little oxygen and too much acid in his blood. Sepsis, no doubt from the nastiest wound on the left side of his chest. She’d caught it just in time and she reassures herself that he’ll be alright, and besides the serum Reginald gave him will surely heal that completely soon. Luther doesn’t wake up tomorrow, or for four more months.

-

Klaus passes out on the stoop, gets woken up at dawn by an angry tenant shoving him to the ground. He’s just barely cognizant enough to find his way to a shelter down the street. Someone else shoves him into a bed. He wakes up hours and hours later to Ben berating him. He’s been on a bender, he hasn’t seen Ben in days. Klaus rolls his eyes at him, almost says something that’s on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it is he can’t grasp it.

It was a weird dream right? A weird trip? He’d been talking to someone he couldn’t possibly have been talking to, whoever it was. And there’s something he’s supposed to do. It might have been important. It bothers him for the rest of the day but he never remembers.

Neither of them ever remembers.

#the umbrella academy #tua fic #umbrella academy fic #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #and the angsty one too #'long' but really it's 2600 #which is long for what was supposed to be a drabble #this was a cool prompt i hope i did it justice! #haven't forgotten the other ones in my inbox either! or the meta ask! #hope i have time this weekend to get to those #this has been fun #my fic

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Chasing Providence {Dimitrescu/OC} Pt 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairings: TBA, at minimum platonic House Dimitrescu/OC, with some wlw side characters (also original, but not the focus of the story) Rating: T for mild violence and possibly triggering content Warnings: A character briefly threatens suicide as a means of prolonging a conversation (i.e. saying "if you don't listen, I'll ___") Additionally, this contains spoilers for Resident Evil 8. Summary: Months after being infected with a mysterious virus, investigative journalist Avaskian Caldwell is left with no choice: Xe has to get help, one way or another, from whatever remains of the Umbrella Corporation could be trusted. Or, perhaps, from the very person who started it all... Along the way xe'll have to get along with vampires, fight off would be hunters, befriend a hoard of cultists, all while performing the duties of an everyday servant. There's nothing xe won't try as xe's forced to chase providence. Notes: While this chapter features a somewhat talkative Ava, xe's normally selectively mute, and will be for the entire rest of the story.

1: Blood Runs Thick

“This can’t be it. No fucking way, bruv, are you sure you got the address right?” The journalist asked, eyes narrowed as xe stared out into the distant hills. One hand held a phone, currently without any signal, while the other kept a tentative grip on the van’s door handle. To their side was the driver, a middle-aged man with relatively little patience. When he replied, it was in a language the journalist didn’t speak, but could clearly understand as a swirl of profanity. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not like I could afford to pay you to take me back, anyway… I’ll just, uh, be going then. Try to have a nice day, eh, you old chap?” With that said xe opened the door, hopping out rather eagerly. After tucking xer phone into xer pocket, xe quickly gathered xer bags from the trunk, half expecting the man to drive off before xe had a chance.

Surprisingly, he stayed all the way until the journalist gave two hard pats to the van’s side. Then he practically slammed the gas pedal, speeding off in a whirling cloud of dust and kicked up rocks, promptly sending xer into a coughing fit. Curse these feeble lungs, xe thought, scowling. Absent-mindedly xe put a hand to xer throat, silently checking if xer, ahem, ‘wounds’ were still covered. Once satisfied, xe turned to the long, winding path into the village. Was this truly where the ever-elusive “Miranda” could be found? What in the blazes of hell was a scientist like herself doing here, in a mostly empty stretch of Romania? The thought sent a rush of anxiety to the journalist’s chest, as xe wondered if this “Miranda” would even consider helping xer. Xe hoped that, at the least, xer unique case would get her attention.

In the end, it took xer twice as long as expected to reach the village proper. There were no signs along the path, nor signs of life, other than countless dead birds, hung like falling leaves from every tree. Once, a display this gnarly would have made bile rise up in xer throat. But these days? After everything xe had researched? This was no hell, not when compared to the bombed ruin that was Raccoon City. Yet xe still cut xer hand when hopping the barbed wire fence, as if once again a rookie, too desperate for the truth to see the proper world. Fresh blood dropped onto the snow, but xe allowed xerself no wince nor complaint, instead focused on the figures moving in the distance. Strangers. Nay, sources. Someone would know something about the mysterious Miranda, even if they didn’t realize it.

So the journalist made haste, approaching as casually as xe could, considering the heavy traveler’s bag on xer shoulders, and the sturdy cane xe walked with. It was the latter that caught people’s attention first, as it click click clicked against the stone path. Before long there were several pairs of eyes on the journalist, some of them bearing thinly veiled hostility, others filled with nervousness.

“Who are you?” A man growls, stepping in front of a woman (his daughter, based on similar features, age difference) as he does. One of his fingers jabs into xer chest, daring them to take another move, carrying an unspoken threat within it. For a few seconds xe simply smiles at the man. Somewhat amused, xe hoped that xer natural charm would win the day, despite a quick glance telling them that most of these strangers were armed.

“I’m a journalist-” xe started to say, until the others moved their hands towards their holsters- “or at least I was, once. But I come asking for assistance, kindness from my fellow humans,” xe said, gesturing widely with xer arms. This made the others present pause, though the journalist wasn’t immediately sure that xe hadn’t just misspoken. Romanian was not xer first language. Or xer second, come to think of it. Oddly enough, however, it had clicked rather quickly in xer brain, as if xe had always been meant to speak it. “You may call me Avaskian Caldwell. Or just Ava, or just Kian, or just Vas, depending on your mood. Ah, but that hardly matters. I am here… to find a woman. Someone I have heard much about, a, how do you say… ‘marvel’ of science? They tell me she is called ‘Miranda’. Have I come to the-” xe do not get to finish that sentence. Before xe can understand what’s happening, someone has grabbed xer by the throat, attempting to life xer into the air.

For once in xer life, xe’s glad for the ‘extra insulation’.

“Fuck you, outsider, you don’t deserve to taint her name with your foul tongue!” The man shouts, squeezing xer throat, urged on by the jeering crowd. A smarter person would have been rather concerned at that point. But the journalist- Ava, as xe said- was not known for xer cleverness. That did not, however, stop xer from exhibiting cleverness. Taking advantage of xer ridiculous arm joints (which may or may not be doubled, possibly merely weird as fuck), xe reached into xer bag, ignoring the crowd’s scared reaction, retrieving an evidence bag. Inside of it: several broken vials, each marked with a symbol of terror. This is not a place of honor the symbol screamed. To the villagers, it meant something else, something older. To Ava? It meant the prophet of death, it meant Umbrella.

“I come bearing the sign of your village. I come bearing the scars of your Goddess,” Ava proclaims, raising the bag into the air. As soon as xe does, xe is released, the man scrambling backwards. Others turn away, some leaving, a handful gathering to pray. ‘Twas an odd display, but one that Ava preferred over a public execution. Only one person dares to approach: A woman, likely mid thirties, with dark eyes and darker hair. There’s a clear caution in her movements, as if it was taking all of her courage to not flee. “Do you perhaps know how I may reach Miranda? I am in dire need of her knowledge.” At this, the woman flinches, though her gaze lingers on Ava’s throat. It’s then that the journalist realizes xer collar was undone, exposing xer strange, ever-bleeding wound. The stranger does not speak until xe has covered the deformity.

“One does not simply reach Mother Miranda. But there are ways to get her attention, to ask for a, hmm, blessing,” she explains. With a sigh of relief, Ava starts to celebrate, eager to find a cure for what ailed xer. But the woman wasn’t done speaking, and her next words cut a thick line through xer hope. “It may take a few weeks, maybe less, but we can ensure your prayers are heard. Mother Miranda always rewards the faithful. Even those who start out as outsiders. In the end, all are welcome here, if they keep the faith in our Mother.”

“No, no, that won’t do!” Ava snaps, far harsher than intended. The woman flinches again, and xe starts to pace back and forth, trying to release xer pent up energy. “There has to be another way. Faster, more direct. I don’t-... I might not have time to wait. Please, please, anything you can do to help, even if it’s just pointing me in the right direction…” A gulp, eyes shining with unshed tears, a quiver of the lower lip. Falsehoods alike, directed for an honest purpose. Miranda was xer only hope for information- and, perhaps, for salvation. But the latter had never been Ava’s true priority.

“There might be one way, but it is dangerous. You’d be more likely to die on the path than reach your goal, if I am honest. Yet… if there is anyone in all the village who can grant you the audience you seek, it would be one of the four lords. If you are certain-” the woman could only watch as Ava nodded furiously, silently begging- “so be it. Follow me, but do not say I did not warn you. I do not want your spirit coming to haunt me for my act of pity.”

—————————

“An unexpected guest? How… delightful. Do tell me why you even bothered to drag this miscreant before me, Cynthia?” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with a scowl, staring down at the fragile human in question. Of all the things she had expected to find, once her head servant called her, this was not one of them. An intruder would have been more likely. Perhaps even more fun, if Alcina felt like letting her daughters join in the resulting feast. But this ‘thing’ was hardly worth her time. They were short, although admittedly somewhat plump, with a scent that implied illness. For once, she could not pinpoint the exact disease by smell alone. Not that she cared, really. ‘Twas simply… interesting.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Avaskian Caldwell, and I come with an… offer. With mutual benefits, I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu,” the journalist answered, giving a deep bow. Despite xer manners, Alcina seemed unimpressed, even irritated by the display. Still, she gestured with her right hand, encouraging xer to get on with it. “I am in need of a meeting, specifically one with the much beloved, dearly respected Mother Miranda. In exchange, I offer two things: The sweat of my brow, and the blood in my veins.” Much to xer displeasure, Alcina replied with loud laughter before fixing xer with a hard stare.

“Pray tell, little thing, what makes you think I won’t simply take your blood now, hmm?” She muses, cackling again, ignoring the way her servant flinched at the sound. But Ava did not waiver, instead simply reaching into xer sleeve. Slowly xe pulled out something metallic, speaking firmly as xe did.

“For one, Mother Miranda would certainly dislike losing out on this opportunity,” xe started to say, unable to stop xerself from smirking. Then the knife fully exited xer sleeve, dancing in the light, before pressing against xer own throat. It was certainly a unique threat. Instantly Alcina rises to her feet, only pausing when she realizes that she wasn’t the one in danger. “Secondly, my blood is worth more if I am alive. You see, I have a wretched ‘condition’, which does a handful of lovely, lovely, life-threatening things to this poor vessel of mine. But someone as intelligent as yourself could find plenty of use for my so-called ‘illness’. If you give me a chance to explain, that is.” Though she does not sit back down, or even nod, it quickly becomes clear that Alcina did not intend to interrupt. Yet. “Grand, grand! I do appreciate it, my Lady. Now, let me just grab the research I brought with me…”

Never once lowering the knife from xer throat, Ava digs into xer bag, forced to briefly clip xer cane to xer belt. Then xe retrieves a closed manilla folder, carefully handing it to the giantess in front of xer. Wordlessly Alcina accepts the item, opening it to peruse its contents, only pausing to put on a pair of reading glasses. A minute of quiet passes before Ava continues xer explanation.

“I heal faster than anyone else on your staff, guaranteed. Hell, I cut my hand down in the village, on some damned wire, and the wound has already closed back up, good as new. That means, of course, that if someone were to let’s say… remove some of my blood, well, it wouldn’t take too long for me to get more, now would it? Obviously there has to be some biological counter, some form of payment for my ability. The rule of equivalent exchange, and all that, yes? As it stands… I eat an extra slice of bread a day. That’s it. Nothing bad enough to cancel out the boon of my blood. My… extensive reservoir of blood. Interesting, yes?” Ava says, still as charming as ever, despite the indescribable terror in xer chest. If there was one thing that xe had learned as a journalist, it was how to hide xer fear. Which was plenty useful, in the current situation, especially when Alcina flips a page to reveal the one downside to xer condition.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to try and deceive me. Here I was, beginning to think something of you, and you hand me a sheet that says it clear as candlelight: Your blood is dirty. Infected. I won’t be drinking it anytime soon, nor would I even consider allowing it to be used for my family’s wine!” Alcina is essentially yelling at this point. But Ava only takes a step forward, smile present but trembling, and gestures for her to turn the page. With narrowed eyes she does, quickly reading through the notes. Once, then a pause, then once more. Finally she closes the folder, setting it down upon her desk. “Fascinating. You are indeed a… unique case. I cannot guarantee you a meeting with Mother Miranda, and even if I do, it will be because of your condition. She will use you, as is her divine right to do, likely without ever once considering attempting to cure you. But if you are determined to meet her, well,” Alcina leans in with her own grin, sending chills down Ava’s spine, “I will not stop you. Here’s hoping you manage to give me plenty of blood before you ‘expire’. Cynthia, show her to the servants’ quarters. I expect her to be working by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Although Ava could not help but twitch at the Lady’s choice of pronouns, xe had expected this. Eventually xe would explain the indefinite nature of xer gender. Or perhaps xe was doomed to die a horrific, tragic death long before xe ever had the opportunity. Either way, xe could not help but feel a small sense of elation, pleased to have made some progress towards xer goal. Three steps forward and two steps back was still, cumulatively, a step forward. In time, xe would likely come to regret this series of choices. But who among us could say they held no regrets at all? And if, in the end, this storyteller came away with one hell of a story… wouldn’t that outweigh the regret? Even if Ava did not know it, xe would one day learn a valuable lesson from the strange family xe now worked for: Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Oh, and what a lovely covenant it would be.

#avaskian caldwell #alcina dimitrescu #maiden cynthia #resident evil: village #resident evil oc #j has ocs #oh hoo hoo hoo #come and get your first real glimpse of ava #yes they talk in this one #you'll understand later

[ladykissingfish]

Under The Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part One// Konan

**This is a small “series” I’ve been working on. The concept is that it’s the holiday season, the Akatsuki has decorated accordingly, and one of the items on display is a mistletoe plant hanging in the archway between the living and dining rooms. Each member will at some point find themselves standing under it, and, as per tradition, share a kiss with the person nearest them. Each individual member will get their own post ((and I will likely post once a week)), and scenarios will be imagined with each other member kissing them. Enjoy!**

Konan

Konan stands under the little green plant, and she looks absolutely beautiful. She’s wearing a form-fitting soft velvet green dress, and her hair is adorned with several poinsettia blossoms.

Kisame

This is the hardest (and the longest) that anyone has ever seen the shark man blush before. He shuffles his feet and sounds extremely apologetic when he mutters to her that she doesn’t have to kiss him if she doesn’t want to, because “I know I’m just a freak, Konan-san.” Hearing this causes Konan to ball up her tiny fist and sock Kisame on the shoulder (which he barely feels, but still). She tells him that she doesn’t want to ever hear him say something like that again, that there’s not a single member of the Akatsuki that doesn’t have something “uniquely wonderful” about themselves, and Kisame is no different from anyone else. Still, he reiterates that she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to — but is interrupted when she puts her small soft hands on his face and pulls his face into a kiss ((and Kisame is much taller than her so she’ll have to raise up on her tip-toes to do this)). Kisame is so surprised that he forgets to blink or breathe, and the moment, although it only lasts a few seconds, seems to go on forever. When Konan is done, she’ll give him a warm hug and be on her way — but Kisame will stay stock-still for the longest time, until somebody (likely Itachi) finds him and snaps him out of it. Also should be noted that his blue skin stays a flushed red for quite some time, making him appear a delightful (and tease-inducing) purple.

Hidan

Will literally take his scythe and swing it at anybody nearby to clear a path when he sees Konan under the mistletoe. Grabs her around the waist and yanks her as close as possible, but ... once her face is so close, once he’s actually looking into her eyes, he freezes. She sees his sudden shyness and chuckles, and asks if he’s okay. He blushes a fierce tomato and insists that he is, that he’s done this a million times before, but Konan (or anybody else for that matter) ain’t buying it. Decides to quickly man up and kiss her; he closes his eyes and puckers and pecks in the direction of her lips, but his eyes being closed (and his coordination not being good to begin with) causes him to miss and instead kiss the bottom of her nose. But he’ll feel proud of himself regardless, and Konan will laugh at how characteristically cute he was throughout the whole ordeal. He’ll murmur a “Thank you” to her before he leaves, and when she asks why he’s thanking her, he’ll lean close and whisper into her ear that this was his first kiss. Nobody hears him say it, and Konan won’t betray his secret, simply giving his cheek a soft peck before he goes.

Deidara

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” EVERYBODY chants at him when he and Konan happen to end up under the mistletoe together. He scowls and blushes; during his time in the Akatsuki, he’s come to regard this woman as being like his big sister, for God’s sake. This is the one who took care of him that time he had the flu, the only one in the house he lets experiment with his long hair. There’s no way in hell he’s going to make out with his sister; so he chooses to be humorous with it. He’ll put one of his hands on each of Konan’s cheeks, and, while the hand-mouths are giving her cute tiny little puckers, he’ll lean down and give her forehead a smacking kiss. The others are grossed out by the hand mouth thing, but Konan thinks it’s adorable. She knows that Deidara is extremely ticklish, so while his hands are occupied she’ll quickly reach down and poke his belly, which will make him yelp and scramble away. She’ll “make it up to him” later by bringing him some of the chocolate chip cookies she makes that he loves.

Kakuzu

Thinks that the whole mistletoe thing is childish and a waste of time. However the others will keep on him until he sighs and complies. He’ll lean down and quickly kiss Konan’s cheek, but as he turns to go, Hidan points out that the kiss didn’t count because “your mask was still on, douche. it has to be your lips.” Kakuzu sighs harder but nevertheless listens; he pulls down his mask just enough to expose his lips, leans down once more and kisses Konan’s other cheek this time. Konan will giggle; Kakuzu has the slightest bit of facial hair stubble that tickles her soft skin. She’ll smile and thank him, and he’ll gruffly Mm-hm, pull his mask back up, and go on to whatever task he was doing before. Later that night he’ll sit in his room, reading and smiling; it’s been a long time since he’s shared a sweet gesture of affection like a kiss, and to do so with a woman as beautiful as Konan? He can’t help but feel like he should have been charged for such a privilege.

Sasori

Never heard of the concept of kissing under the mistletoe, and, like Kakuzu, feels it to be a pointless waste of time. However he registers the look of disappointment on Konan’s face when he initially declines, and, because she’s one of the few Akatsuki members he genuinely likes, he swiftly walks up to her, and kisses her lips. There’s no pause or moment of hesitation like the others had before kissing her; to him, this is just an empty gesture, with no feeling behind it. At the end, not really knowing follow-up procedure, hel’ll actually stick out his hand for a handshake, which she’ll return, trying her hardest not to laugh at how seriously the puppet man takes everything. Later that night he’ll think really hard about the entire act of kissing, and starts thinking of ways to design puppets so that they can pass on poisons through lip contact.

Itachi

For all of the women (and surely some men) that lusted after him when he was a younger man (and in the present day), Itachi has never gotten close enough to anyone to desire something as intimate as a kiss. And kissing Konan — how would that work? Is there such a thing as a casual kiss, or should it only be done with somebody that you’re in love with? He thinks very fondly of Konan, but he’s nowhere near in love with her. Konan sees the internal struggle he goes through and gently tells him that it’s just a game, he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. He settles for a hug instead, which honestly to him has almost the same cosmic impact as a kiss would; this guy has been starved for affectionate touches and comfort for a criminally long time.

Zetsu

Black Zetsu and White Zetsu have a hell of a fight with each other over kissing Konan. Black Zetsu: We need to do this, we’ve never kissed a woman before! White Zetsu: But we’re not ready! This is scary! Black Zetsu: You think EVERYTHING is scary! You need to grow up and be a man! White Zetsu: But we’re not a man! We’re a plant! Eventually the two sides just give it up, and stalk back to their room. Konan breathes out a sigh of relief; she honestly didn’t trust that Zetsu wouldn’t have tried to bite her face off, should they have kissed.

Pein

Nagato would feel strange about kissing his longest-time friend, but as Pein, he knows that the others would expect him to take place in this lighthearted tradition. So he’ll quickly bend down and kiss her cheek — or try to. Konan will turn her face at the last second and he’ll end up kissing the corner of her lips. He won’t blush, but Nagato will; and out-loud Nagato will find himself muttering “Sorry, Yahiko”.

Tobi

As with Kakuzu, Hidan will be nearby and insist that Tobi take off his mask before he kisses Konan, or else it “doesn’t count”. But the situation is a bit different; everybody at some point has seen Kakuzu without his mask, but nobody has seen Tobi without his. It’s widely assumed that he has some sort of physical deformity that he’s hiding, and the others (except Hidan) are respectful of members’ personal choices. But Tobi compromises; he moves his mask just slightly to the side, which exposes his lips but nothing else. He leans in and kisses Konan, and everyone blinks, surprised. The goofy mess that they know as Tobi has disappeared. The person with his lips on Konan’s seems ... older. More experienced than ANY of them. Masterful and in-control. The expression on Konan’s face is somebody who is experiencing the best possible dream, and doesn’t wish to be woken up. Tobi eventually breaks the kiss but Konan seems unaware of this; her arms are still clutching his shoulders and her lips are still in their pucker. Tobi’s visible lips smile, and he reaches out a finger and traces it slowly across Konan’s pink petals. Then he quickly slides the mask back on all the way, and, in his signature idiotic voice, asks if there’s any more candy in the kitchen. He skips off to check, leaving Konan (and everybody else that had been watching) staring after him in confusion.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kissing #konan #deidara #itachi uchiha #tobi #obito uchiha #pein #nagato #zetsu #kakuzu #hidan #kisame #sasori

[ev-pierce-writes]

The Promise

The Heir Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12K

Warnings: I can't even remember.

Note: Oof its been a while sorry

___

The council meeting was where everything started to go wrong. The members of the Neutral Systems were always dismissive and condescending toward you, but the presence of the Mandalorian made it worse.

"These people are not easy to convince, Din," you warned him before stepping into the meeting. "I don't know what your plan for Mandalore is but you are either about to make great allies or terrible enemies."

"I'll follow your lead," he said.

"You brought him here?" General Tarrow questioned incredulously the moment you appeared.

"Is there a problem with that?" you countered. Din sat silently beside you, helmet on, surveying the situation.

"You were always one to flirt with danger, Your Majesty. But I never expected you to court the enemy," Prince Cornith, representative of the Angor system, said. You hated his smug smile and arrogant posture. And his implication stoked an anger in your chest.

"And yet I'm not surprised at your apparent prejudice towards someone you've never met. The Mandalorian is not an enemy. He's an ally in need of assistance to fight for his people."

"How are you expecting this to play out? A little catfight amongst warrior clans who know nothing but to fight?" the General asked. A wave of laughter spread through the representatives. You did not join in.

"My people have seen Bo-Katan on Mandalore. She's gathering the people around her. Readying for battle. She needs to be stopped before this escalates and it spills over into other systems."

"So what you're saying is to prepare for war?" General Tarrow's questioned, jumping to a fairly major conclusion.

"I'm saying we need to be prepared for the possibility of one good Mandalorian having to face a hundred bad ones."

"Why should we even get involved in this? This guy can't be trusted," Cornith said, pointing an accusing finger at Din. "Take off the ridiculous helmet and then we'll see for real. Maybe he's a deformed monster under it all."

You bristled against the blatant insult but managed to remain collected. The Prince enjoyed getting a rise out of you and you knew no one would stand up for you if you fired back.

"If the wrong person ends up on the throne, and Mandalore returns to its militaristic ways, they will encroach on your territory. They used to control entire systems. Bo-Katan can and will take yours."

"We are prepared to deal with that if it happens."

"When it happens, General, it will be too late. None of us are a match for a well-organized Mandalorian army. We need to get ahead of this."

"Who's to say he's even the one we should be backing? We are the Neutral Systems for a reason. We don't take sides."

"Djarin is a good man. I trust him. Societies don't rebuild themselves overnight. We need to lay the right bricks now to build a foundation that won't just fall apart and take the whole structure with it. Djarin is the one to do that."

"I hate to argue with you, Your Majesty--" This was a lie. The Prince loved to argue. "--but I'm afraid your judgment is clouded by your shared history with Mandalore."

"And I'm afraid your judgment is clouded by your selfishness, Prince Cornith."

He stood. "I act only with my people's best interests at heart."

"As do I." You stood as well and stared the Prince down. General Tarrow watched the interaction from his seat, just as distrustful as Cornith but less vocal.

"What happens if Bo-Katan does take control and finds out we've been going behind her back to form an alliance?" Cornith said. "The rest of us are done for. Nhora might have the firepower to protect herself, but we don't."

In a way he was right. If this failed, everyone, including Nhora, would take the heat. Din had remained silent the entire time, unsure if he was even allowed to speak. But finally, he did. "You're right. I can't ask you to put your people on the line. All I can ask is that when the time comes you will support my people and their wishes. I just-- I want to protect my family. You can understand that right?"

Cornith eyed Din with distrust and then shook his head. "I'm out. Whatever deal you're going to try to make, I won't get involved."

"Can you at least promise not to align yourself with Bo-Katan?" you pleaded.

He sighed, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I can't take that risk. I'll do what I think is best to protect my people. I'm out."

Cornith's hologram flickered and then disappeared. Two others followed, leaving only you and General Tarrow. And though he still hesitated, Din's words had appeared to make a dent in the tough General's shell. If he wasn't going to listen to you at least he would listen to Din. He sat up and leaned forward, completely ignoring you when he spoke and looking only at the Mandalorian.

"How many soldiers are we talking? How many will it take for this little operation of yours."

"Six," Din said.

"Six?" both you and the General exclaimed at the same time.

"At most."

"And here I thought we were arguing over hundreds. Six we can manage." That was far fewer than either of you were expecting. Din hadn't explained to you what his plan was yet. And if he was being honest, he wasn't quite sure himself. But this was a start.

"You do realize what you are up against, Mando," you questioned. "She'll be expecting you to make a move."

"I once took out an Imp base with fewer than that. Bo-Katan doesn't want a war. She needs to defeat me in battle, fairly, to regain the saber. I just need to get in."

"And then what? Kill or be killed?" The thought made your heart constrict.

"I hope not. But probably."

The room fell quiet at the gravity of his words.

"I'm going with you," Zena said abruptly. She had remained silent throughout the meeting but now spoke with determination.

"Absolutely not," Din said. "No offense but I need trained warriors for this."

You could tell by the look on Zena's face that she'd already made up her mind. "It wasn't a question, Mando," she said. "I'm the best warrior on this planet and I'm going with you."

Din was silent. "Okay," he consented, though sounding a bit taken aback. "That's one. I'll need that Jedi too, Skywalker."

"Good luck finding him," the General said. "I'll discuss this with my Lieutenants. We'll see about filling out your team. But I'm not making any promises, Mando. And you're going to have to deal with the consequences of the Angor system potentially aligning with Bo-Katan. Prince Cornith will follow whoever offers him the best price."

And then the General was gone as well. You sighed, finally able to let down the hardened exterior you had put up for the council meeting. "That did not go as well as I'd hoped."

"I hate that Angor guy," Zena said with a huff.

"Me too. Eyed you like a slab of meat," Din said quietly. It was the harshest language you'd ever heard out of his mouth, almost protective of you. But he moved on quickly. "I was expecting the worst. At least we might have the General. I have a...friend on the inside as well. But I'll need help getting in contact with her."

"I'll take care of that," you said, sinking deeper in your chair, now only thinking that Din's plan might be a suicide mission. Din followed your movements, noticing the stress that radiated from you in waves. You'd taken quite the verbal berating from the council. He wanted to reach out and ease your worry the way he had last night but was too conscious of Zena's watchful eye. So he settled on speaking.

"You can back out," he said. His words caught you off guard. "I can go forward without you. You don't need to put your people on the line like this."

"Too late for that, Mando," Zena said, answering for you. "Once she makes up her mind there's no going back."

---

Zena was right. Your mind was made up. You were suspiciously silent through the rest of the morning's meetings and disappeared directly afterward to your chambers, reappearing again only for lunch. You were planning, turning things over in your mind, wondering how best to move forward. The next logical step seemed to wait on the reappearance of the Jedi and his ward.

Din noticed it all, the concentrated look on your face, your abnormal silence. He wanted to draw you out of your shell, tell you it would be alright, but he didn't know how. So he focused on Zena.

"I didn't know you could fight," he said to her. Zena had offered to give him a tour of the grounds of the palace, and you trailed along behind, eager for a distraction from the stressful morning. The three of you had come upon the sparring grounds, piquing Din's curiosity.

"I come from the longest line of warriors on Nhora," she said. "My mother, her mother, her mother... Not that they passed on anything cool like beskar armor. Is it all beskar?"

"Yes. Though mine wasn't passed on either. I got it through more... dubious means."

"And that? Also beskar?" Zena motioned to the staff on Din's back, topped with a sharp spearhead.

Din unclipped the staff from his back and handed it to her with surprising trust. She took it gingerly, feeling out the balance in her hands. "It's very light. Do you fight with this?"

"Is that a challenge, Zena?"

"Hah, I could take you, Mando. You want to go a round?"

Din didn't need to be asked twice. He was eager to see how your royal advisor fared one on one.

You stood above them on the observation ledge of the sparring grounds, watching as they faced each other below, knowing this would be a good fight.

Zena tapped the staff against the ground. "Where's your weapon, Mando?"

"No weapon. Wouldn't want to give you an unfair disadvantage." Though Zena took those words as a challenge they were not said arrogantly. Din's cool confidence was built on experience and success.

But Din was not prepared for what he would get hit with next. Specifically what Zena hit him with next. Zena struck out with the first blow, slamming the staff in a dangerously accurate hit to the side of his head. The beskar sent vibrations through his helmet and he stumbled back in surprise. Taking advantage of his disorientation Zena dealt a second blow with her foot to his side, and Din gasped, bending over in pain. He'd forgotten about rule one, never underestimate your opponent. And rule number two, no distractions. Having you as an audience was a damn good one.

Zena lunged again, though this time Din was ready, taking hold with his gloved hands of the staff and hauling her forward. But Zena anticipated the attack and counterbalanced, shifting her weight down and using the staff as a lever to launch him onto his back.

Din landed with a groan on the ground. Watching a Mandalorian get his ass kicked by your advisor was a very sufficient diversion.

"Unfair disadvantage, Mando? You seem to be the one at a disadvantage," Zena taunted as Din hauled himself to his feet. "Perhaps you're distracted by a pretty woman on your mind."

"We both know you're trying to impress her too."

Your heart began to flutter. He was trying to impress you.

"Ah yes, but the difference is I've already impressed her. You are behind."

That comment finally got to him. Din struck next, easily knocking the staff from Zena's hands and pinning her arms behind her back to immobilize her upper body. The staff went clattering to the ground. But it wasn't the end for your advisor. She kicked out her legs and took both her and Din to the floor, reaching out and taking hold of the staff to swing at his head. Din rolled out of the way, but not without having to relinquish his hold on Zena. She lept to her feet gracefully and lashed out her leg, planting a solid and swift kick to one of Din's pauldrons, sending him back to the floor.

"You should really work on your hand-to-hand combat, Din Djarin. I expected better from a lifelong warrior."

"I'm good enough to get by," Din said with a huff, finally making his way to his feet again.

"Good enough isn't good enough, Mando. You need to be better. The best."

"Fine, if you want a fair fight, you'll get one." Din pulled something from his belt. It was hard to tell what it was, just an oblong object in his hand. But then he pressed a button and the full length of it emerged, glowing and humming with electricity. The Darksaber.

"So when I defeat you, does that mean I'm the new Mand'alor?"

Zena was taking the appearance of the most powerful handheld weapon in the galaxy in stride.

"If you win, yes. But you're not going to."

The saber met the staff with a crash, sending reverberations across the sparring grounds. You felt a jolt of electricity spread over your skin, vibrating your body down to the core. Din suddenly took on a new appearance, powerful, intense, confident. The shift was small but compelling and you thought perhaps the vibrations spreading through your body were not just from the force of the saber.

Din attacked again, forcing Zena backward in a fight that had taken on a new energy. Zena was skilled and agile. She anticipated Din's every move and blocked his strikes. But she was no match to the Darksaber in Din's hands and found herself forced to step back with each blow until she was up against the wall. The staff narrowly prevented the loss of her head.

"How about now, ready to tap out?"

Zena held up a fist in response, letting him know she knew she was done for.

"I take that back. You are good."

In an instant, the Darksaber was gone again, just a hilt in his hands. "No, the Darksaber is good. You were right. I could use some practice. And I wouldn't mind getting it from the best around."

Zena laughed.

"I train at dawn. See you there, metalhead." With an affectionate rap of her knuckles on his helmet, she handed Din back the staff. "I've got work to do. Perhaps Her Majesty could finish the tour."

She bowed toward you with a dubious smile and exited the sparring grounds, leaving you alone with Din. You walked down the stairs and met him in the center of the ring, the power of the Darksaber leaving your skin vibrating slightly with its intensity.

"So, did it work?" Din asked, his tone level and unreadable.

"Did what work?"

"Did I impress you."

You couldn't suppress the shy smile that danced across your lips. "The Darksaber certainly did."

It wasn't the answer Din had hoped for, but he'd broken your silence, which was enough for him. Without Zena around to watch you, he felt a bit more emboldened to pursue your fleeting smile.

"Give me your hand," he said, voice still serious.

"Why?"

"Just--" He didn't wait. Din grabbed your left hand and placed the Darksaber in it, wrapping your fingers around it with his own. "Point it away from your face. And anything else you value. Then press right here when you're ready."

The Darksaber was in your hand. You stood frozen in shock, unsure of what to make of this gesture. Din was putting his most valuable, and most controversial, possession under your control.

"Go on. I know you want to."

"Are you sure I'm allowed to?"

Din shrugged. "I don't really care. I didn't ask for the thing."

You took a deep breath and then held your arm out from your side, worried you would accidentally slice your own leg off. But Din was right. You wanted to. Another breath and then--

Vroom. The shaft of the saber extended from its hilt with a jolt and you took an involuntary step back. The glow was even brighter up close, and if you listened carefully you could hear the crackle of electricity. You weren't sure why you'd expected it to be heavy, it seemed such a heavy object, carrying the weight of a people and a planet within it. But it wasn't.

Din stepped behind you, you thought to get out of the way of your swing, but then he placed a hand on your hip, showing you how to plant your feet and stabilize you. The left reached out and wrapped around yours.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft and guiding in your ear. Oh Maker, he was so close that you could feel his beskar armor against your back. The hand on your hip was gentle but strong, grounding you not to the floor but to him. You couldn't speak so you nodded in reply.

Din brought your hand up to your opposite shoulder and then guided it into a swift slash across your body, leaving a flash of white light in its wake that seared your eyes. The air sparkled, electrified. A gasp escaped your mouth at the sheer amount of power you held. But only one thought entered your mind.

"Can I cut something in half?"

Din laughed, in awe that this was your only request. "Sure, as long as it isn't me. Remember to balance yourself in your hips. Keep your feet planted. And maybe use two hands this time."

He released you and you stepped across the grounds toward one of the sparring dummies. Din watched, and though you walked gingerly, a bit wary of the saber, you held your head high. You were more powerful than you thought.

"Sorry, bud. This is for a good cause," you addressed the motionless dummy. Plant your feet, balance in the hips, and two hands on the hilt. Check, check, check. Draw back and slash. The Darksaber sliced straight through the sack of hay and sand, spilling its guts across the floor.

You squealed in delight. "Oh Maker, I think I could get used to this."

The beaming smile on your face lit the world on fire. Din found himself staring not at the mess you'd just made but at your expression of pure joy, glowing white from the light of the Darksaber. He wanted to make you feel like that all the time, he realized.

---

"What are the people like on Mandalore?" you asked, guiding Din around the palace library. It was quiet today, especially between the stacks, as everyone seemed to be enjoying the good weather outside.

Din sighed, unsure how to answer the question. "They need help. But they're stubborn and won't ask."

"Sounds familiar," you said and Din laughed in response. You wished you could see his face at times like these when the conversation flowed easily and he let you tease him.

"You know, some people on Mandalore don't even believe you're real."

"They don't?"

"They think you're a figurehead. A distraction from the real people in charge. That you only show up to make appearances at official functions."

It wasn't that surprising for you to hear. You rarely left the palace and never left the planet. But there was another reason you suspected their disbelief.

"I think I know why," you said.

Din's silence urged you to continue.

"Meet me outside the palace. At four. I'll show you."

When Din stood at the grand doors of the entrance to the palace, he thought for a moment you had forgotten about him up. He was looking for the regal version of you, the version where you wore your extravagant robes and were surrounded by guards. That is not the version that appeared.

Instead, you were dressed modestly, having abandoned your synthsilk robes for brown linen pants. A dark green cape was wrapped around your shoulders, the hood hiding your face, but the heat signature on Din's visor was clearly yours. The transformation was astounding.

Din bowed as you approached. "Your Majesty," he addressed you.

"Stop that, you'll give me away. You should use my real name."

Your real name? He hadn't yet been offered the privilege of that knowledge, and it embarrassed him to discover what an intense reaction the thought of it elicited from him. His heart rate picked up erratically and he thanked the Maker for his helmet to hide the blush on his cheeks.

You leaned in, beckoning with a finger for him to come closer, and whispered to him in a soft voice. Your name. Your real name. It was a beautiful secret, a name all for himself to possess and wrap around his tongue. It suited you, Din thought.

He repeated it back to you, testing out its weight. You liked the way the syllables rolled around his mouth, even through the modulation of his helmet.

"Come on, we'll start at the market first. I have forty hard-earned credits to spend."

Din trailed behind you through the late afternoon crowds, weaving this way and that over bridges and around stalls. There was no way Din would have been able to find his way around, but you knew the place like the back of your hand, following the paved stone paths, recognizing your favorite shopkeepers, and pointing out the best spots.

Once fully immersed in the throng and away from any guards who may have recognized you, you let your hood fall from your head, tilting your face toward the sun and smiling contentedly. Though your face was no different than it always was, you had changed somehow. No one recognized you or even gave you a second glance, other than perhaps to admire the beauty of the sunlight reflecting from your untamed hair. At least, that's what Din was staring at.

And finally he understood, that beneath it all you weren't just a queen, you were any other person who could blend in with the crowd. He was jealous. He wanted to disappear like that.

"Keep up, Mando," you said, and reached out behind you to grab his hand. You did it to prevent him from getting swept up and lost to the swarms of people, but his heart fluttered at the intimacy and ease of the interaction as you pulled him closer.

"Why are there so many people?" he mumbled into your ear as you paused at one of the stalls to take a look.

"Tomorrow's the fertility festival. After the last day of planting the year's crops, everyone celebrates and prays for good yields. The city will be even more packed tomorrow, so the market prepares for the influx of people." You moved on, dragging Din along behind you. "But today is really the day to come. Fewer people and a better selection."

Selection of what? Din almost asked until you pulled him to a stop. Somehow, you were back at that stall Din had noticed during his first trip here, the one with the delicious smelling food that he'd been in too much of a hurry, and too poor, to buy. Din lingered behind you, eyeing the small pastries and steaming bowls of...something. He wasn't exactly sure what. But it still smelled just as amazing as he remembered, even through the filtered sterile air of his helmet.

"I'll take three of those," you said, pointing at the largest pastries on the top row of the display. The woman running the stall silently slid them into a paper bag, completely oblivious to your identity. You loved the liberating feeling of not having anyone call you by your title or even recognize who you truly were.

"And for the Mandalorian?" the woman asked, glancing slightly nervously at Din's hulking shape hovering just behind you.

You turned toward him. "Are you super hungry or just really hungry?" you asked with a grin.

"Oh, no thank you. I can't afford that."

You pulled a stack of credits from your pocket and handed them over, completely ignoring his comment. "We'll take two more fruit pastries and two of the vegetable ones, thank you."

And then you were off again before he could protest, guiding him further away from the palace and into the market. From the top of a bridge, you flagged down one of the canal taxis, stepping down the bank as it slowed to a stop.

"Now where are we going?"

You didn't respond, just pointed at the flat-bottomed boat, indicating for Din to get in. He did as he was told, jumping in easily, and you moved to follow, sitting on the edge of the stone wall to reduce how far you'd have to jump. But Din stopped you with his hands on your hips, lifting you easily with his arms into the boat so that you wouldn't have to jump.

"Where to?" the helmsman said.

You pointed along the canal in the direction opposite of the city. "Just follow on up that way."

"Lady, you're going to hit marsh. I can't go that far without my boat bottoming out."

"Just go until you can't anymore."

The taxi maneuvered up the canal, at first following the stone walls that lined the waters edge. Soon, however, they turned to grass as you left the boundary of the city, the market fading slowly behind you. The man was right. The canal quickly became more of a creek, marsh grasses and reeds growing up around you.

"This is as far as I can take you. Not sure why you'd want to be here, but I'm not coming back so good luck."

How kind. Din helped you out of the boat, a bit wary of your strange plan. There couldn't have been anything out here. But you were scrambling onto the grassy embankment, paper bag of food in tow, and he followed diligently behind.

"I'm starting to think you're a bit crazy," Din teased. He'd roughed it before, and this was by no means roughing it, but he hadn't expected this from you.

"I know what I'm doing, Din. Just follow me."

The ground leveled out, marshes to one side of the creek, a smattering of trees on the other. The two of you walked along the shrinking stream of water, a soft blanket of grass beneath your feet, until you found what you were apparently looking for.

"When I was a kid, I would hide out here. No one could find me."

Din wasn't surprised. The small clearing was absolutely secluded from the rest of the world, the city skyline was gone, the sounds of the market reduced to nothing. Around him, the chirping and croaking of wildlife was the only noise besides the rushing water of the shallow stream. The air was warm today, warmer than it had been in a while, and though the evening was waning, you pulled off your cape and tossed it to the ground.

Without a second thought, you plopped down on the ground next to the stream, back against a tree, and off came your shoes so you could dig your toes into the sandy bank. You opened the paper bag, fishing around for the first pastry. When Din didn't join you, you patted the ground next to you, inviting him to sit.

"You're sure we're safe?"

"Of course we're safe, Din. I know my way around my own planet."

Finally he sat, looking slightly out of place in all his beskar. But he removed his helmet when you handed him one of the vegetable pies, helping him to look a little more relaxed in these unfamiliar surroundings. He leaned back against the thick tree, looking around to better gauge his environment. You, and the planet you called home, never ceased to surprise him.

"Have you ever left?"

"Where? Nhora?"

"Yeah."

You looked up toward the sky where the sun was starting to set, casting an orange and pink glow through the clouds. But you weren't looking for the sunset. You were looking for the moons, already rising.

"There. See the smallest moon, up and to the left?" Din nodded in the direction you pointed. "It's actually the biggest, only it looks small because it's so far away. That's where I was born. But no, otherwise I haven't."

Din nodded solemly and took a bite of the pie. You weren't sure why he'd posed the question and he didn't seem inclined to explain. You watched as he chewed slowly, crumbs from the crust spilling onto his armor. And then his eyes went wide with enjoyment. The soft buttery pastry melted in his mouth, sweetness contrasting with the salty filling.

"Wow, this is delicious."

You smiled in satisfaction. That reaction was all you'd wanted all day, to see him blown away by the things you called home. He finished the first pastry in silence and then held out a hand, asking you wordlessly for another.

"I once visited a planet with no atmosphere," he said abruptly. It was surprising to hear him speak like this, freely, with no prompting. You held your tongue because it was the only way to encourage him to go on. "Then there was the planet where I couldn't stop moving unless I wanted to be someone's lunch."

He paused, thinking. "I know four languages. Aside from basic."

That one was impressive. You realized this was him opening up. Sharing. It made your heart tingle with warmth. Then Din fell into silence, indicating it was your turn.

"I can fly an x-wing," you said after a moment of thinking. "Not very well. But in a pinch. And I've never punched anyone, though I really want to punch that Angor prince sometimes."

"You can try it out on me."

"I think I'd rather not break my hand on your armor," you said with a laugh. What else? "I'm twenty-six years old."

Din took a deep breath. "I don't know how old I am. Maybe thirty-nine. Or forty."

"You look older than that."

Din glanced at you to gauge if you were joking. You were, in fact, joking, a big smile filling the round apples of your cheeks, mouth full of flaky pastry. "Alright, very funny. Your turn."

"I--" Where did you want to take this conversation? Din's presence next to you made you feel comfortable and warm and something about that inclined you to dig deeper, let him in a little more. "I don't know who my father was. Or is, I guess."

Din let out a quiet breath beside you. You were both watching the sunset, not one another, but you didn't have to see his face to feel comforted by his presence. "My parents are definitely dead if that makes you feel any better. No doubt about that."

The admission was a difficult one for him, and he was glad you didn't press any further. But then suddenly your hand was on his leg, gripping his knee tightly and telling him to be quiet.

"What's wrong?"

"Shh!" For a moment Din thought you were in imminent danger, but then he saw no alarm on your face, only excitement. "Don't move," you whispered.

The final light of the sun had dimmed, leaving you surrounded by a deep blue twilight. And yet, you still managed to spot the creature, sitting on a rock across the stream from you. You stood as quietly as possible, moving slowly so as not to scare it away. Without bothering to roll up the legs of your pants you stepped barefooted into the shallow stream, the cool water rushing around your ankles, not yet warmed by the sun of the warming season. But a little cold water wasn't going to stop you from catching the small creature.

Din watched as you bent over slowly and then snatched as quick as lightning, grabbing at something sitting on a rock. When you stood, triumph on your face, he nearly laughed. "What is that?"

"It's a glow frog, remember?"

Of course, he remembered. The animal you'd compared Grogu to. You were grasping the frog firmly but gently, holding it up for Din to see. It was a comical sight, a woman normally so regal and queen-like, shin-deep in marsh water, wild animal in her hands.

"So is the glow part just for kicks or..." The frog was not living up to its name. No glowing in sight.

"Just wait. It takes a second." The sun had fully dipped below the horizon now, the light from the three moons overhead the strongest source in the night sky. But then it happened. The small creature in your hands began to illuminate, green and fluorescent. It started slow, almost imperceptibly, until it shown bright, casting its glow across your face.

And you were right. The resemblance was uncanny. The frog opened its wide mouth, eyes large, and it croaked, surprising you enough into dropping it back into the water. You giggled, and suddenly Din spotted the youthful shine reappearing on your face the way it had the other night in the kitchen.

"They respond to pressure, releasing a chemical when you surprise them. I used to catch them all the time out here. The only downside is this," you said, holding up your hands which now fluoresced as well.

"That doesn't seem healthy."

"Oh, its fine. Look, it just washes off." You rinsed your hands in the water, the green fluorescence washing downstream, most of it coming off, though not all. When you pushed the hair out of your face with a wet hand, you left green glowing streaks behind on your cheeks. You glittered in the moonlight.

Din had never seen you so happy. What happened to you?

"What did you say?"

Oh Maker, he'd said that out loud. He hadn't meant to. And he could tell by the fallen look on your face that you had definitely heard him, only wanted him to repeat it to be sure. Din regretted the words immediately, watching as the joy faded from your face.

"Nothing. Forget it." But it was too late.

You waded back across the stream, a sudden chill running through your body as the night air cooled. You sat heavily, pondering the implications of actually opening up to the man next to you. You'd spent so long trying to bottle up how you felt, pretending it didn't exist, pretending you weren't attracted to him, that the tender gesture of Din replacing your cape around your shoulders forced it all out in one go.

Once you started speaking, you couldn't stop. And he listened.

"I was seven when the Clone Wars finally came to an end. It was a...brutal, destructive end. After my grandmother died, my grandfather came back to visit sometimes. He promised to protect us, even though it went against our customs. Something about Mandalorian creed. I'm sure you understand," you said, gesturing vaguely in Din's direction. "But Nhora seemed safe from the war. I was still living on Lunar Post 3 with the rest of the kids from noble families. It was easier like that, educating us all together in one place."

You took a breath, coming to the hard part.

"I had an older sister, Tia. She was so...perfect. I looked up to her. She was going to be queen and even though she was eleven years older than me she treated me like the only star in the sky." Tears pricked behind your eyes but you kept going, kept yourself steady by gazing up at the sky. "She and my mother came to visit for my birthday. It was the last trip she would make before her coronation. But everything went wrong. I don't remember it well, but when the explosions hit there was no one there to protect us, not the guards, and especially not my grandfather. The first one killed my mother. Tia died in the second, shielding me.

"The blasts were meant for me and the other noble children, the second borns, the replaceables, the one's who could be eliminated and then played like a bargaining chip to force my mother's hand to help the Independent Systems. I didn't understand. I'll never understand. I was too young. But instead they took out the royal line and left only me. And so began eleven years of non-stop training for a position I was not born to have. I wanted to escape so badly, to any planet as long as it wasn't this one, just to mourn them even. But this was all I had," you said, gesturing to your surroundings.

Din was silent, unsure what to say, but you were grateful for that. You preferred silence anyway.

"The scars have healed with time. Maybe one day they'll be gone."

"Emotional scars never heal," Din finally said. He was watching you, one knee propped up to support his elbow as he leaned against the trunk of the tree.

"Well, that's true, but I don't mean emotional scars. I mean physical ones."

"But you're so... well, you're so whole, so undamaged." He was thinking about your soft hands and how smooth they'd been on his face.

"That's not true. I have scars."

Din narrowed his eyes, prompting you to continue.

You shrugged your cape off again and started to unbutton to top buttons of your shirt. You had nothing to prove to this man, didn't need to do anything to earn his respect. And yet you wanted to show him the most vulnerable parts of you.

"You don't have to--"

You yanked the collar of your shirt down, effectively shutting him up, and putting the scar that sliced along your clavicle on full display. "Here's where the first blast hit."

Then you turned away, kneeling with your back to Din, and fully unbuttoned your shirt, letting it slip from your shoulders and gather at your waist to show him the second scar, another long slice that curved around your right shoulder blade. Both scars were old, softened and faded over the years from having grown much bigger than when they were inflicted. They no longer hurt to touch, though the searing pain of the memories was still there.

"How..." Din couldn't finish his sentence. He was too preoccupied with the sight of your bare back, smooth except for the line that hinted at the intense trauma from your past. And the scars were beautiful; you were beautiful. He realized with a shudder that you were now naked from the waist up, giving the marsh a show he'd been thinking of catching a glimpse of for a while now.

You heard Din move, heard him shift and lean forward, felt his warm presence behind you. You wondered momentarily if he would touch you and found you liked that thought.

You didn't feel him reaching out until a single finger touched your back gently, gliding along the path of your scar and sending a shiver down your spine. The goosebumps that followed his touch did not go unnoticed by either of you. You looked back over your shoulder, watching Din from the corner of your eye as several waves of emotions washed over him, pity, sadness, horror, fascination, admiration. But he couldn't seem to pull his hand away, ungloved, from the skin on skin contact.

"Do you miss your family?" His question was asked in barely a whisper.

"I don't really remember them anymore." It was difficult to admit that you had mostly forgotten what your mother and sister looked like.

"You can miss something you don't remember having." Din was right, of course, though he'd said it absentmindedly, thinking of his own family. His fingers were still tracing along the skin of your back, up your vertebrae, across your ribs. Something else had taken control of his hand, like he didn't know what he was doing anymore, unaware of his movements.

You could have stopped him. Brought him back from wherever his mind was floating up in space. But you didn't. You leaned into his touch, consenting to the reassurance of his presence. You let Din wrap his arm around your waist, place his warm hand against your bare tummy, and pull you in.

He didn't know what compelled him to hold you like this. He'd never wanted to touch anyone this way before. But you leaned into him, your body melting against his, a contented hum spreading through you and into the big hands that held you, and it felt like a piece of him he hadn't even known was missing had been returned to its rightful place.

It was oddly serene, this position of being encompassed by someone so much bigger than you. But he was hot against your naked skin, insulating you from the night air. He pressed his face against your neck, breathing you in, lips barely grazing your skin, and you thought you could sit like this forever, protected, safe, warm.

He didn't try to grope you, didn't try to get a peek at whatever you might look like from the front. It was intensely comforting, knowing that he respected you, knowing he wouldn't take advantage of you the way so many other men tried to do. He only wanted to inhale your scent and never let go of this feeling he had no name for. It was a feeling he'd only ever felt once before, while holding the kid for the last time, knowing he had to say goodbye. Neither of you wanted to move.

The sounds of the world melted away and it was only you and Din and his breath against your skin. You had no idea how long you stayed that way.

"We should go," you whispered. "Before someone realizes I'm gone."

Though reluctantly, Din pulled away, that all-encompassing warmth gone, and he helped you dress. He'd barely even seen you, barely even touched you, and he was craving more. He wanted to be linked to you forever, to hold your hand the way you had in the market, to kiss you. He'd never done any of it before and yet he knew without a doubt you were the person he wanted to be with. He just needed to know you felt the same.

"You don't have to do alone," he said, hoping you would understand what he was offering.

"Excuse me?" You turned back to look at him but the helmet was already on and you couldn't tell what he was implying underneath it.

"Rule. You don't have to rule alone. I know you can. I've seen you do it. But you don't have to."

You stood, suddenly feeling exposed though fully dressed again, like the Mandalorian had just read your mind and discovered every feeling that swirled around in there.

"Don't you dare tell me what I do or don't have to do, Djarin," you said sharply. But your voice cracked with suppressed tears."There are traditions to follow, customs I have to abide by. This is my place."

The words were harsh, more defensive than they should have been and you regretted saying them the moment they left your mouth. But Din had recognized in you what you truly wanted, to not be alone anymore, to have a family again, and it scared you.

"Are you afraid of heights?" he asked unexpectedly, standing as well.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your words still laced with annoyance and defiance. You were still feeling defensive, but now you were equally as confused.

He repeated the question and you shook your head slowly. What was he planning?

"Good, I'm tired of walking," was all he said before he wrapped his arms around your waist, powered up his jetpack, and shot straight up into the air. Somehow, you managed not to vomit at the sudden change in altitude. But Maker, you were flying, and incredibly fast.

One moment you were frozen in shock and the next you were screaming, your voice lost to the wind that pummeled your face. You hid your face in the crook of Din's next, holding on tight. No, you weren't afraid of heights, but that wasn't the problem here. The problem was you felt like you were going to fall at any moment, no matter how tightly Din held you.

But it was a short flight. You landed less than gracefully at the front doors of the palace, stumbling like you'd just stepped off a boat. Din caught your elbow and righted you.

"Dank farrick, Din! You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. You were spiraling. I had to do something."

You realized he was right. The shock of adrenaline coursing through your body had completely distracted you from the emotions you had been overwhelmed with only a couple of minutes ago. But now they started to flood back, the loneliness, the fear. Why did you feel these things, but only now, with Din right next to you? Did he remind you of how hard it was to be alone, show you what you were missing? You had to get away, to be with your jumbled thoughts for a moment and collect yourself. You couldn't breathe.

"Thank you for... spending the evening with me. I--" You couldn't look him in the face, even though it was hidden behind the helmet. You didn't finish your sentence, just walked away, leaving the Mandalorian standing in the entrance to your quiet palace.

"You can't run forever." You were already halfway up the stairs when Din called out. You didn't stop, didn't turn around, just ran like the coward you were from the feelings you couldn't hide from him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were an idiot that couldn't tell the one good man on this maker-forsaken planet how you really felt.

In your bedroom you stripped, changing quickly into your pajamas and then curling up in bed under the covers. Maybe if you pressed your face into the pillow hard enough you could scream in frustration and no one would hear.

Din had watched as you walked, no, ran, away from him. He should have stopped you, should have told you how he felt. How did he feel, though? What words would he have to say to you, other than what he'd already said? And then what, just to have you throw his feelings right back in his face.

He didn't move until you'd disappeared from sight, only then making his way to his room. It wasn't often that Din got the opportunity to sleep without his armor on. He usually didn't feel safe enough. But here, in this palace, he pulled each piece off one by one and stacked it on the floor. Here, he could sleep in comfort, in peace, without anything to bother him--

Except that he knew he couldn't. Not when he felt there was something left unsaid. He hoped you wouldn't be asleep yet, hoped that when he saw your face he would know exactly what he wanted to say.

You didn't get the chance to scream into your pillow. Someone knocked softly at your bedroom door, disturbing your stress relief hours. You swore to the Maker, if it was Zena or one of your guards here to berate you for sneaking out again, you would actually scream, and not into a pillow but in their face.

But it wasn't Zena or a guard or anyone else. It was Din on the other side and you were wearing those damn transparent pajamas again like you knew what they did to him. But he had to focus. He had things he wanted to say. He'd caught a glimpse of the real you deep inside and he wanted it back, all for himself.

"I meant what I said." Din never raised his voice, but now he was becoming insistent. "You put so much into caring for others. But have you ever thought about accepting some help every once in a while?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heart rate. Why did seeing his face like this make you so nervous? It excited you to find the Mandalorian standing patiently outside your bedroom, especially at this time of night.

"I don't need help," was all you managed to sputter out. Apparently, Din had made a stop in his room to shed his armor, the first time you'd seen him without it. You'd expected him to look smaller under it all but he still managed to fill your doorway and block your escape.

"Maker be damned, I'm trying to tell you that I want to take care of you. I'm not offering because I think you need me, I'm offering because you're allowed to need me." Din took a step forward, closing the gap between you even more. Written on his face was an urgency you'd only seen a few times before.

"I--" You didn't know what to say. I don't know how? "I can't think when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" Din's voice was low with earnest gravity.

"Like you care."

"I do care. I care a lot, but for some reason, you won't accept it." His hands found your face, holding your chin to force you to look into his eyes. "Somehow you think this is disingenuous. And I know you don't trust many people but let me be one of them."

Care. Trust. His words rattled around your brain and sent you spinning. He was so close, so warm. The world was hazy with that tingling feeling, the one that pulled you to him, made you reach out a hand to touch the dark fabric of his undershirt. You had no idea what you were doing, no control over the movement of your fingers as they took hold and dragged him closer.

"Stop running," he whispered softly, letting you pull your bodies together.

He cared. Oh Maker, he wanted you to lean on him, to give him some of the burden you carried. So you did, letting your hands find his shoulders and rest there.

"Do you trust me?" you asked in a hushed tone.

"Of course--"

"Then kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice, closing the last of the distance between you and kissing you with the same urgency that was written on his face.

You were it, the first and last. Your lips were like a siren's song, dragging Din to the depths of a passion he'd suppressed for so long, calling for him to relent to their addictiveness. He would drown in this taste until he succumbed.

Din kissed you tenderly, carefully, as if he was afraid you would disappear the moment he let go. No man had ever kissed you this way. They had all been greedy, triumphant, dominating kisses, as if you were a prize to be won, a conquest to be conquered. But Din, Din kissed like he had everything to lose and nothing to gain in return. He only pulled away when you did, breathless and panting for air, foreheads pressed together.

Your hands were still grabbing his shirt greedily as you dragged him into your bedroom. Din was so lost in capturing your lips with his again he barely noticed being pushed onto the bed until he was flat on his back with your body stacked on top of his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your hips flush with his, your knees straddling his waist in return, and your elbows leaning on either side of his head.

No matter how tightly he held you it wasn't enough. He needed to fit that missing piece back into the hole in his heart. But your lips were a start. It was impossible to tell where yours ended and his began and that's how he liked it.

Was this what he was missing out on his whole life? When you prodded your tongue against his lips, he let you sink deep into his mouth, moaning in response and sending vibrations through his chest and into yours.  He ran his hands up and down your sides, memorizing every curve and contour, wishing the clothing that separated you two would disappear but not knowing how to make it happen.

You broke away to run your fingers through Din's hair, his really fucking soft hair, and place a kiss on the nose that was simply begging to be kissed. You'd wanted to do that for a while.

"How do you taste so good? Like heaven on my tongue," he mumbled. His words sent shivers down your spine and you pulled away to look at his face. Din's eyes were closed, heavy with bliss and experiencing the greatest pleasure of his life. Your body tingled with excitement.

"Have you never been kissed properly?" you asked teasingly. It was meant as a joke.

"Never been kissed," was his short reply, eyes still closed, a dumbstruck look on his face.

You stopped in your tracks, abruptly pulling away further and sitting up.

"What?" you asked, a bit louder than you'd intended.

Din's eyes flew open. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd thought it was obvious, considering how awkwardly unaware he was of what he was doing. "I've worn a helmet for three decades. Doesn't really aid in building romantic relationships."

Suddenly you felt like apologizing, afraid you'd forced him into something he didn't want. "Oh Maker, I'm sorry, if I'd known I would have--"

"Woah, slow down, Angel." You were speaking too fast, tumbling over your words a mile a minute. Din sat up as well, holding onto your hips to keep you straddling him, grounding you and letting you know it was okay. "Don't apologize. I want you. I need you."

Fuck, he needed you. The sincerity in his eyes and his tender use of a nickname eased your worry. But you were still unsure. What if this was some part of his Mandalorian creed, and you were breaking it? Din seemed to recognize the concern on your face, the way he always did.

"Look at me." You did. "I want this. I promise. I've dreamt about kissing you since the moment I met you. Fuck, you have no idea. I dream about holding you and touching you and making you feel good. I just--I don't know how. Tell me how."

This was...new. Uncharted territory. Men usually knew what they were doing. Or at least thought they did. Generally, they were arrogant enough to believe they were pleasuring you, even when they weren't. Never had anyone asked what you wanted. The fact that this man, the greatest warrior in the galaxy, was absolutely clueless but asking for your help, turned you on even more.

If he thought that kiss was good, you were about to blow his mind.

Din had seen naked women before. Once, he'd chased a bounty into a strip club and shackled the man as he was paying for a lap dance. But nothing could compare to you. The urgency that had dominated your kiss was gone, replaced by a deliberate craving. You guided his hands to the buttons of your shirt, urging him to take it off himself. He did, fingers grazing your skin as he slipped the item from your shoulders, leaving your heaving breasts bare before him. You were breathing rapidly and Din burned, knowing that he was the reason why.

"Tell me if you want to stop."

Din nodded, eyes roving all over you, from your face to your chest to the soft plane of your stomach. Between your breasts hung the round pendant of your necklace and he watched as it swung gently back and forth. You could tell he wanted to touch you but was unsure if he should, or how he should. So you took his hand, holding his fingers gently to place them on the soft skin of your neck.

"Follow your fingers with your lips."

At first, he was confused, but then you began to move his hand, dragging his fingers down your neck, along your collarbone, over the tender flesh of your breasts, across your hardening nipple, and down toward the hem of your pants. Din did as he was told, placing soft, open mouth kisses everywhere his fingers went. He placed his free hand on your back, stabilizing you as you leaned back to give him better access. He lingered on the soft mounds of your areolas, taking each into his mouth and sucking gently. He did it instinctually, not knowing what reaction he would receive from you, but taking immense pleasure in the moans he elicited from your mouth.

Mouth still tasting every inch of your bare skin, Din gripped your hips and flipped you around so that you were laying on the bed. He wasn't sure if it was what he was supposed to do, but it seemed like the right move. He continued to kiss you everywhere he could, meditating in the sweet floral scent that an evening spent in nature had left upon you. You nodded when he looked into your eyes, silently asking to remove your pants for you.

Maker, you were gorgeous. He took a ragged breath at the sight of you, slick with desire, all for him. You whispered his name, pulling his intense gaze away from your folds and back to your eyes.

"Watch," you said. And then you began to touch yourself, a lazy finger gathering your wetness and dragging along your slit. You let your legs fall open to give Din a better view as you pleasured yourself. With your middle finger, you found your clit and circled, easing into the satisfying feeling that you knew would build toward an orgasm. You added another finger, dipping slowly into your cunt and savoring the warmth you found there.

Din could tell you'd done this many times before, knew exactly how best to touch yourself. But now someone was watching you, intently, exploring your edges and lines with his gaze, cataloging every hitch in your breath and twitch of your stomach. He studied your patterns and movements like he did his bounties, learning what you liked, anticipating your reactions.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, the wicked voyeuristic sensation lighting something new in your core. What had once been your own dirty little secret you were now performing for an audience, an extremely attentive audience, and it was hot as fuck.

Din watched as your head flopped back in pleasure, a breathy moan escaping your throat, as your free hand came to your breast to pinch and twist the hard bud. Just seeing you this way, writhing beneath your own touch, was making his cock grow hard, but he wanted desperately to be the one to make you feel that way, edging you toward orgasm.

You noticed his need and grabbed his hand to replace it with your own, though not before bringing your fingers to Din's lips for a taste. He wrapped his mouth around your wetness with no reluctance, eyes sinking shut with heady desire and licking them clean.

Like heaven. He wanted you so badly, to know what every inch of you tasted like. He would have to be patient.

Everything about this was irritatingly slow, but it brought your craving for him to a new level. The urgency that had built as you worked toward your first orgasm had subsided to a dull ache without your consistent fingers, begging to be attended to. You knew you could finish yourself off, quickly and easily. But you wanted him to be the one to do. You wanted to know what it was like to unravel beneath the Mandalorian.

Din truly had no idea what he was doing and he couldn't sustain what you'd started. But he was curious, unafraid, and the acute learner in him caught on quickly. You gasped as a thick finger entered you, experimental and slow, and you grabbed onto his shoulders for both his support and your own. He added another finger, testing the velvet softness of your cunt and the ridges of your walls, filling you and stretching you in a way you couldn't do for yourself. He could get the angle right, you knew, better than your own fingers could, but it wasn't enough. You would have to show him.

You peeled open your eyes, unaware that they had even been shut in the first place, to watch him. He was taking you in with his eyes, leaving no part of you untouched by his gaze.

"Din, look at me." His eyes snapped to yours. "Like this."

You showed him how to curl his fingers, how to press his thumb to your clit at the same time. And when he did, Oh Maker, it was the sensation you'd always craved but could never perform for yourself. He filled you so well and only his fingers were touching you. A stifled cry left your lips and you gripped his shoulder harder, trying to ground yourself despite feeling like you were being lifted off into space. He leaned down, fingers still moving magically inside you, and took a nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently and soothing the searing sensation with a soft kiss before doing it all over again.

"Does this feel good, Your Majesty?" he asked against the skin of your chest, voice husky with arousal. It was utterly sinful, using your title while he was finger fucking you into oblivion.

You could barely do more than moan in response. He was catching on quickly, noticing how your hips jerked in response to the pressure on your clit and your walls clenched around his fingers when he simply curled them up and forward. You were falling apart slowly but surely, your breathing erratic, some very unqueenly curses falling from your perfect lips.

This was torture, this build-up, slow, consistent, inching. You could feel it coming, feel the heat pooling between your thighs and your pelvic floor spasming. But it was so fucking slow, like marching straight toward a cliff and not knowing when the edge would come, when the ground would fall out beneath your feet. And you loved every moment of it.

Din's face had fallen to your neck, his lips pressing heated kisses everywhere he could put them. He could feel your erratic pulse beneath his lips, the vibrations of your moans spreading through him. "Does this feel good? I need you to tell me. Tell me."

"Fuck, yes Din, don't stop. Don't-- don't do anything different. It's perfe--"

The words got stuck in your throat as you moaned into your approaching orgasm. You would cum any moment if--

And then, the edge of the cliff gave out and there was nothing beneath you but your crashing orgasm and Din's steady hand, guiding you through your pleasure. Oh Maker, the progress had been so measured and gradual you hadn't even known it was coming, but now you were falling and falling, only to be caught by Din's unyielding touch.

Din's face was buried in your neck as you came, your delicious cries breathed directly into his ear. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, the sound of you fracturing into a million pieces by his hand. He cursed under his breath and you felt his words against your skin as you came down from your high, twitching and spasming.

"Are you okay, Angel?" he asked sweetly. He brushed the hair from your face to gaze deeply into your eyes, bewildered by what he'd just done to you.

"I'm more than okay," you replied with a giggle. You couldn't help the sound that bubbled up in your throat. "Come here."

You pulled at Din's shirt to drag him into a kiss and realized he was still fully clothed, the bastard. You wanted the shirt off with the rest of his clothes. You wanted nothing between you and him.

"Off. All of this off," you said, motioning to his clothes. Din complied and stood, tossing everything to the floor. You sat up onto your knees on the mattress so that you were at his eye level when he approached the edge of the bed once more. Reaching out to pull him in by his hips, you caught a glimpse of the amazing specimen before you. Broad and thick was the best way to describe him, both his shoulders and his cock. He had smooth, soft skin with hardened muscles beneath, no doubt from the taxing nature of his job, slightly tanned and beautifully scarred.

And he was hard for you. It sent a thrill up your spine to grasp gently at his thick length as he pulled you closer, lips against yours. He gasped into your mouth as he aligned his body with yours, bucking his hips involuntarily into your hand while you stroked him slowly. You took the opportunity to nibble his bottom lip, relishing in how fucking good it felt to press your skin to his. He was intoxicatingly warm, his big warm hands on your back, his big warm cock against your stomach.

"Can I ride you?" you asked against his mouth. Din groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

"I have no idea what that means but yes, please."

"Lay down." Oh Maker, it felt a little too good to tell this force of a man what to do and have him listen. But that was a feeling to be explored at another time. Now there was only fucking him into the next galaxy. You wanted to hear your name, your real name, from his lips.

You climbed across Din's lap, straddling him but not sinking onto him yet, instead letting his cock rest between your folds and tease your entrance gently. You were in no hurry, the high of your first orgasm still leaving you overly sensitive to touch, but you could tell Din was eager for release. He gripped your hips tightly as you leaned down, letting him take each of your breasts in his mouth, one by one.

When you began to grind your hips slowly against his, it took all his effort not to let the dam break right then and there. He'd gotten himself off plenty of times, even going so far as to hold back as long as he could to prolong the pleasure. But your folds were slick and warm against his twitching cock and he wasn't sure he could take the torture much longer. He needed to be inside you and he wasn't above begging.

"Are you going to take me or just fucking tease me all night?" Din huffed.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips, wanting to taste his exclamations on your tongue when you finally sank your pussy around his length. And he did not disappoint. He was just as loud as you'd hoped he'd be, after finally lining your entrance with his length and easing down onto him. What you didn't expect was how good it would feel to have him inside you, your own moans mingling with his at the sensation. He filled you completely, stretching you further than his fingers had. It was slightly painful, but only in the sense that pleasure is often conflated with pain. You took him fully, feeling the head of his shaft press against the sensitive flesh of your cervix deep inside you.

Rolling your hips experimentally, Din jerked below you, trying to speed up your movements, but you wouldn't relent. With a hand on his face, thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks, you maintained eye contact, the other hand against his chest for stability.

"Let me take care of you, Mando," you whispered with a hazy smile. He wanted so desperately to flip you over and fuck you however he pleased, but he held back, the sight of you beautiful and bare atop him mesmerizing and enthralling. The flush of your skin and the gentle bounce of your tits as you moved hypnotized him into obeying your request. He would do whatever his queen asked of him, he knew, without question.

You slowly picked up the pace, maintaining the rocking motion that dragged his cock along your g-spot and drove Din mad. He groaned and grunted beneath you, his sounds mixing with yours in the otherwise quiet bedroom. You leaned back, placing your hands flat against his thighs, and kept going, loving the way he let loose without inhibition or reserve. His hands gripped tightly at your hips, crashing you back down every time you rocked up, and you felt your second orgasm building in your core. It was now a question of who would come first. You suspected it would be Din.

It was his turn to fall apart, to lose control. You wanted him to relinquish his dignity the way you had to him. Finally, those precious words left his lips, at first a whisper and building louder, your name groaned over and over and over again. Your walls clenched at the sound and he choked beneath you at the sensation.

"Fuck, Angel, I'm gonna cum if you keep that up." You leaned forward again and noticed his eyes were screwed tight like he was holding back as best he could.

"Oh baby, that's the point. Cum for me, Din. Cum inside me, baby." The commanding words tumbled from your mouth, mixed with your shameless moans as you held back your own orgasm, wanting to clamp down around his cock as he came. With a jerk, you felt his cock twitch inside you, and Din cursed loudly with a groan. He seized your hips even harder than he had before, firmly holding you against his own as he came hard, his cum spilling deep inside you. With his heat filling you, you let go, releasing your own orgasm and contracting around his length, milking every drop.

You collapsed on top of Din with an overstimulated sob, not even bothering to pull off of his throbbing member. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you, his ragged breath in your ear slowly steadying and returning to normal.

"Fuck, that was beautiful," Din murmured. "You're beautiful. Oh Maker, you're so beautiful."

Din wasn't sure what was happening to him but he couldn't stop talking. Every thought, praises, rambling, absolute nonsense, that crossed his mind left his mouth, completely out of his control. You giggled, your own cock drunk brain unable to comprehend little else other than how sweet his soft grin was or how he had only one dimple on his left cheek.

"I'm going to just fall asleep like this if that's alright with you," Din said, rolling you over onto your side so he could pull the covers over the two of you and hold you. You giggled again as he rested his chin on the top of your head and you buried your face in his chest, letting his warmth wrap around you. "And then I'm never leaving."

Though he said the words lightly, it was difficult to ignore the finality they carried, so you deflected. "Didn't you promise Zena you would train with her in the morning?"

Din groaned at the reminder. "I did, didn't I?"

When you didn't respond, he looked down at your face. Your eyes had closed softly and your breath was deepening, sleep starting to tug at the edges of your brain. You hadn't realized how tired you were until you were hunkered down, feeling the security of Din's fingers pressed against your back, the rising and falling of his chest lulling you into a sense of safety.

Din pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, believing you to be asleep, but needing to say these next words anyway, needing to make up somehow the failures of your grandfather.

"I know I won't always be around. I can't always stay. But I'll always come back. I promise."

*Read Next Part*

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