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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years

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talking about like adjusting one’s on Perspective when the standard on what’s standard is what might seem wild to other ppl when it was never standard for them, like, doesn’t change anything to go “i identify this as inherently disrespectful out of line treatment that isn’t worth the energy to try to Work With” when the person behind it is just Gonna Be Around anytime all the time &/or there’s no real personal relationship anyways besides proximity....what i mean is going “that was a really frustrating & rude interaction i had with the person in the next room the other morning when i was closing the door to the bedroom & even offering an explanation why (trying to) & she interrupted to talk dismissively over that & also shoved the door back open while i’m standing right there (though bad enough to just do that at all)” to like oh yeah beyond frustrating & rude that’s just definitely a totally unacceptable way to treat someone wherein sure nothing changes b/c i don’t accept it except idk, maybe i remember to also just not bother explaining things lmfao, things will unfold the same ways anyhow b/c it’s like I May As Well Not Have & it just saves a little effort....but with this person it’s also rare like, usually really aggressively angry at any time either towards Concepts or people who are Not Present, and when people Are present, it’s generally like, incredible passive aggressive stuff that also really can’t be worked with. and since i’m around, i get the [Yelling At Concepts Or People Who Aren’t Present] live concert experience anytime of day or night which is very stressful in like, trauma response ways lol i don’t even always Notice like oh right, adrenaline, unless there’s some Bonus element like i notice my legs are shaky from the ramped up tension. b/c it’s again like well, that’s standard. but i’m also like welp this isn’t anything Directly Directed at me, so what do you even call it except “damb...this shit sucks :/” where you know it’s not surprisingly like, trauma responses are a Present thing vs like yeah shitty stuff happened back then & it’s all a Past Experience bummer memory now, like nah it’s in the here & now still....but even sitting here like “well That occasion the other day was one of the times things were done directly to me & it was clearly shit >:/” but it just now occurs to me like well you know: this whole time the person in question Knows i’m present & proximate for all these occasions she’s going off on one with aggressively angry outbursts about anything and this Knowledge doesn’t affect anything at all (except again that the one time she like tangentially was aware i was crying out of stress b/c i was going around [mitigating the situation], sympathized / cared in the moment, then within a few days had exacerbated the very matter that stressed me out that much Because of that awareness)......the point is it occurs to me atm like oh you know that’s also a way i’m being treated directly actually, that the awareness i, another person, am experiencing this / possibly affected by these actions, Does Not Matter......like i’m affording this insulation lol like well she’s not doing it To Me specifically so how do i even categorize this grievance, and just kind of skipping over the premise of [this person isn’t considering me at all in this / my presence & theoretical experience is not A Factor to her in this] is like, also shitty on its own and Present Bad Treatment rather than something mitigating and like a reason it Doesn’t have to do with me at all

#it's of course also the matter like i could always stand to encourage myself to be More communicative w/ppl when that's like; safe #and nothing ever works by flipping switches so in the moment it's difficult to remember like ''don't try Explaining anything to this person'#plus that it's not Necessary when it comes to things like hey i can close this door. but def reminding myself like stick to concrete Info #if she's going off on one over some present Practical Situation i might go over (despite yknow. the Stress) and be like as matter of fact as #possible ask what's going on; say what i might do to assist with that situation. as a side effect usually having to Talk in a brief exchange #otherwise it's like. withhold anything Personal from exchanges. & avoid exchanges; which i do #tfw like this person's presence even when being quiet creates this inherent Tension / increased stress / Hypervigilance...normal & fine #kicking in a humorous montage of you know; classical music plays over semitransparent armchair / rudin's the thinker panning around #woops *rodin. this philosophy symposium is in shambles already lol but anyways like musing on things even if it doesn't really Do anything #it does something for oneself i suppose like can't draw any boundaries here or change the experience #it's someone just operating Unilaterally who as stated like just doesn't care & will p much only double down on justifying everything #just some matter of factness from yours truly as i again smoke the bubble pipe like Ah....the inherent disrespect towards me as a person....#it was here the whole time & not really subverted by ''well they're just not thinking of me at all while they do shit that hurts me''#obviously bad for them too but......#funny to have it forever like Sorry For Party Rocking Oversharing but that's relative lol like i don't really think that #like this is literally Everyday type experiences and i know hardly unique / That uncommon and like. again it's matter of fact & relevant #like yeah i guess said everyday; generally relevant shit would be considered of a Topic that some ppl would never wanna discuss #no shit like ''ough Trauma is a big deal it's Too Much to be part of a Normal Conversation; keep that under wraps'' like #well yep that's like. Been the cultural attitude lol nothing new. private embarrassing weird problems to be sensitive secrets #and like yes idk cue having friendships / friendly acquaintanceships where it's like oh cagey armslengthness that doesn't really help #b/c being autistic / that communication / social style difference aside it's like well uhh there's a lot of info abt me & my life that i am #aware is like oh that's Awkward that's Too Much that's a big deal so you know. isolation feedback loop lol can't share that b/c we're not #that close yet / i already get the sense it's like Private/Embarrassing / we don't Become close b/c there's plenty abt myself under wraps #and like again this is just a matter of fact Post not abt a hypothetical convo. we're not befriending each other. just sharing lore #and i'm comfortable enough with that vs idk if other ppl would think it would be too private to casually / impersonally mention #or to read about i guess like whom tf is reading my posts lmao if you're here god knows what i'm ever talking about. Stuff & Things #j/k scroll past this shit as per the nature of posting...ugh f for trying to j/k scroll when intradash Ads load & throw it off #anyways adventures in adjusting perspective like turns out it's never really a ''It's Not That Bad :/'' matter lol

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #01)

Welcome to Fluffuary 2024! Check out the schedule here. This will be a multi-chapter story where the theme of each chapter is guided by the daily schedule. While they are meant to be read back-to-back, they can be read as one-shots, too. Thanks for being here! 🩷

They say that good fences make good neighbors, but when you share an apartment balcony with a handsome, kind, and single British SAS captain, you start to wonder if a fence is going to be enough to keep you away.

My blog is always restricted (MDNI) despite the fact that these works will contain very little smut.

FEB01: First Meeting

There was a strange man in your apartment’s foyer. He was dressed in olive green cargo pants, laced black boots, and a bomber jacket. On his head, a black woolen beanie sat just over his ears. His face was covered in a well-groomed beard, and his entire body filled the room. This man was enormous. Too big, you thought, for a normal man to be. He seemed like one of those characters at a theme park, dressed in carved foam, every part of them comically disproportionate to the tiny children screaming around them for hugs and attention.

You watched as he tried to use the elevator, and you melted a bit. He must have just moved in. That damn deathtrap hadn’t worked for the whole four years you’d lived here, and even if the doors did open, you could push every button that it had to offer and it still wouldn’t carry you up even an inch. You noticed that his hands, also too large, tightened their grip on a rattling, overstuffed cardboard box, so you made a quick comment,

“Are you just moving in?”

He turned, noticing you for the first time, and he smiled. That made his enormity much more palatable.

“Aye,” his British accent was distractingly strong, “I’m John.”

John shifted the weight of the box to his hip so he could shake your hand properly. He seemed like the kind of person who thought that a handshake in a first meeting was very important, so you stacked up your mail and keys into your left hand and offered him your right, letting his huge paw envelop your whole palm.

You told him your name, and you filled him in,

“Elevator’s been broken for years. You’re not going anywhere in that thing, and to be honest, I’d pay money not to.”

He chuckled, warm and deep, like a bass drum, and you enjoyed the way his eyes wrinkled as his smile reached them,

“Alright. Stairs it is.”

As you slogged your way upstairs, you chatted about all of the usual things. You discovered that he was in the British armed forces, and he was staying in Bethesda for an extended time, serving with some Americans. It was all very vague and cagey, but you’d been in the capitol and its surrounding towns for close to a decade now, so secretive answers were very much the norm.

You told him about your job as a student advocate. You worked from home most of the time, but you served students in tens of schools and districts around the region. He seemed to take quite a keen interest in your work, lauding you for your willingness to fight for student rights. You were such a lone wolf most of the time, it felt lovely for someone to finally take notice.

He kept following you, past floors three and four. By the time you reached your floor, the last one, you asked him,

“What apartment are you, if you don’t mind me asking. There’s only two per level, so you might’ve walked past it.”

He sighed,

“I’m all the way up. Just my luck right? 501B.”

“I’m 501A,” you stopped walking as the landing leveled off, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at your door.

He grinned, a little rakishly you thought,

“I might be luckier than I thought.”

You let his words wash over you for a minute, his rapt attention on you making your breath catch, and then you offered,

“Do you need some help getting in? Lemme hold that for you.”

“Aye, thanks.”

He popped open the door with a bit of a shove from his shoulder and trod inside. You followed him tentatively, not wanting to intrude on his space.

“I haven’t had a neighbor in years. Not a permanent one anyway. They all claim this unit is haunted,” you laughed, setting his box down on the countertop.

“Haunted? Well, I’ve met a few ghosts in my time. Should be alright.”

His way of smoothing out all of his words, purring them from his chest, was lulling you into a false sense of safety. Here you were, in the depths of this giant man’s empty kitchen, and you had forgotten all of your decorum somewhere down the stairs.

You turned to leave and he caught you, snaring you with his voice,

“Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’ll see you around,” you smiled politely, clutching your mail to your chest like a shield.

“You will,” he said, watching your retreat with a cool fascination.

As you slinked back into your place, shutting and locking the door behind you, you hung on that promise like a hook, realizing that you were very much looking forward to having that immense, burly man next door.

AO3 Link

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adnauseum11 · 3 months

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Avenue of Approach (John Price x Reader)

Kate tries to pick up where she left off. John plays developments in your relationship close to the vest.

less than 1k words

CW: reference to oral sex

feedback welcome

It takes Kate almost half the night before she can pinpoint what’s different about John. Which annoys her. Which in turn throws her game off. Which annoys her even further when John wins the pot that evening and sticks around to count it out slowly, mirthful in his victory. She decides to exact some vengeance and sharpens her metaphorical blade on his thick skin.

“Took a while but it finally dawned on me what’s different about you tonight. You might be in the best mood I’ve seen in a year or two, John.”

“mm…depends on which year or two you’re referring to, I suppose.” He says by way of agreement, tapping a small stack of bills into order against the table top.

“Got anything to do with your lady-friend from last time? Get things, er…moving in the right direction?” Kate asks, having had enough whiskey while sitting around waiting for the game to end to feel braver than she ought.

John tucks his chin into his chest and looks up at Kate with his brows raised, assessing. A familiar look of disapproval slowly settles in to his features.

“Are you asking to be a friend or to be a sore loser?” John pokes back, nailing Kate in her soft underbelly. Their friendship, hard fought and well tested, a vulnerability for them both.

His response confirms her earlier suspicions, no matter his half-assed denial. Kate knows him well, and won’t be swayed from her assessment of the situation easily. She’s happy to watch him try, though.

“John, please. You’re leaving with all my spending cash for the rest of the week, at least cough up some details.”

The corners of John’s mouth twitch as he fights off a smile, his face mellowing again. He can’t summon the energy to be cagey with Laswell, simply in too good of a mood to act otherwise.

“What did you want to know?” He’s humouring her, tucking the wad of cash that is his winnings into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Surely you’ve got her to agree to do more than just kiss you by now?” Kate’s nursing the end of a whiskey, spinning it in her hands while she waits for John to answer.

“We’re taking it slow, but yes.” He doesn’t elaborate and Kate’s smart enough, even drunk, to not stray further down that avenue. John has to physically start a task or he’ll starting reminiscing about eating his love out on her couch the other night. Her delectable thighs wrapped around his head were not enough to muffle her keening cry when she came on his face and fingers. He starts picking up the playing cards and facing them in the same direction, keeping his hands busy and his brain preoccupied. It works and stymies the beginnings of an erection. Kate’s prying works wonders as an ice bath, too.

“Thought you’ve known her a long time, why take it slow? Don’t know her well enough yet? Do you think maybe another 20 years ought to do it?” The drink is making Kate mouthy, something she’ll regret tomorrow.

“Piss off, Laswell. She’s scared to lose something we’ve had for a long time.” John stacks the cards on the table and crosses his arms over his chest.

“How did you two meet?” Kate tries a different tack, asking for details from the past instead of the present. It works, as much as anything ever works on John.

“She was dating a mate of mine for a while before I shipped out. By the time I got back on my first leave they had broken up.” He kept the fact that his mate had taken to harassing and intimidating her, and that John had broken the lad’s cheekbone convincing him to leave her alone, to himself. Going forward he’d dropped the mate and kept tabs on the pretty bird. He’d yet to regret that choice.

“And you didn’t get an opportunity to ask her out in the last two decades?” Kate is the embodiment of skeptical.

“No.” John deadpanned, shutting down that line of questioning. He watched Laswell sulk into her whiskey for a moment.

The truth was, he’d had a front row seat to half of her life. His line of work, and being away as much as he was with no guarantee of return was too much. He knew it would kill a fledgling relationship with her quickly. She didn’t have the temperament for long periods alone, and John didn’t have the heart to ask it of her. He’d promised himself that if he made it to retirement, if she was single by some stroke of luck, he would finally do something about the feelings he’d been harbouring. The rest, as they say, was history.

Recent history. It had been enough, once upon a time, to know she was out there, doing well in the world. Made it easier to leave, to know it was ultimately keeping her safe, what he did in the shadows. Now, selfish man that he was, he couldn’t sit and watch and have it be enough. He needed more; from her, from their relationship. He was willing to go slow, and like a starving man brought to a feast, it was probably wiser to do so.

“If you’re done, Kate? I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He pushed back from the table, swinging his coat over his shoulders smoothly. He gave Kate a smirk on his way past, just to rile her up and was gratified to see it working.

Good. Nosy git.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price #kate laswell #call of duty #fanfic #fanfiction #inappropriate questions #old friends #friends to lovers #poker night #john price x f!reader #john price x female reader

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spacexseven · 1 year

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ok im finally here with the spy au stuff. sorry this took me so long i suddenly got Extremely Ill and couldnt really do much but im BACK baby.

im gonna do some more than i originally planned since i made u and the venerable budijojo wait so long so buckle up

AKUTAGAWA - ohhhh akutagawa… poor thing. this is about The Most devastating thing that could possibly happen to him. i could see him not realizing he loves darling in time just by virtue of arrogance, similar to fyodor. he doesnt think he’d ever deign to have something as silly as affection for someone like… you. preposterous. doesnt help that he has dazai’s voice in his ear at every second. but, well, here he is: stuck adoring somebody who hates him, and knowing it’s all his fault. although deep in despair, ever the devotee, he will gracefully take any punishment darling throws at him- granted they stay by his side. you might not think so, what with all the ‘stabbing you a hundred times with his jacket’ business he put you through, but you’re truly the safest by HIS side, you’ll see! no one can protect you as well as he can! you can spit at him, scream at him, hurt him, tell him all the ways you despise him; he’ll accept it all, but he won’t- *can’t* let go of you. he needs to keep you safe, it’s the only way he can make up for his sins.

DAZAI - oh christ. if you thought akutagawa had attachment issues get a load of this guy. i could see him REALLY shooting himself in the dick by also getting a bit of torture in before “killing” you- either cuz you suddenly started being cagey with information and he was approaching his deadline or just cuz he felt like it at the time. dazai is… very jarring. his emotional state is such that he feels this very suddenly and very violently, and his demeanor is very dependent on what he’s feeling. this is all to say that when you and dazai meet again, the version of dazai you knew- the manipulative nihilist who kissed your cheek within the same hour he broke all your fingers with a pair of pliers- is all but gone. he’s been replaced with some sopping wet cat of a man who looks honest-to-god shattered at your rejections. and he really IS like a pet cat who just realized hes in trouble, or maybe more of a stray who learned the hard way that people stop feeding you after you maul them. anything he can think of to get even a SECOND of your affection he’ll do, and i do mean anything. he’ll debase himself, scream, cry, beg, kill, anything he thinks will do the job. just please please please please PLEASE dont run away from him he loves you so much please stay he needs you please….

CHUUYA - i think hes the least likely to make this mistake just cuz he seems pretty self-possessed, but i could also see him getting very swept up in the little competition he made up in his head and not thinking his actions through very well. also DENIAL DENIAL DENIAL he’s gonna be the LAST guy to admit his feelings in this circumstance, just cuz admitting it would be much too painful so his brain just rejects it. i mean, the fella kicked you so hard into the wall it made a crater, he can STILL hear the echoes of your bones crunching in his head every time he closes his eyes, thats HARDLY the actions of a man in love. besides, even if you DID somehow survive that, youd never take him back (not that he wants that lol no way) so it’s not even worth thinking about. theres gonna be a lot of waking up from a drunken stupor only to find himself in your old apartment or surrounded by your possessions in a nest and some extremely pitying glances from kouyou before he lets himself accept what he feels and what he did. any peace he manages to make with this over time will immediately shatter what he hears that youve been spotted wandering around the city. our boy is going off the deep end instantly.

FYODOR -it doesn’t really come as a shock that fyodor didn’t realize his feelings for you til pretty late in the game, given that he’s a black hole where emotions go to die. UNPOPULAR OPINION ALERT i can very easily see fyodor feeling guilt over the whole Trying To Kill His Darling debacle, its just that he doesnt really have any kind of handle on this feeling at all. all he can process is that you’re scared of him/mad at him and this makes him feel this Mysterious Bad Feeling™ that he doesnt know what to do with. it occurs to him that he could very easily just make you compliant with him by fiddling with your brain like he did to ivan, but this makes the Bad Feeling worse. he doesnt want you to be a smiling puppet, he wants YOU, as strange as this desire is to him. all the little things used to do that had gotten on his nerves or perplexed him he now feels this alien yearning for. he feels this full body frost whenever he hears you crying through the door of your (cell) room, the distinct sensation of oncoming sickness. he finds himself very hesitant to put his hands on you, or even enter your line of sight out of fear of disturbing and upsetting you. odd. expect him to creepily watch you sleep a lot after he kidnaps you, enjoying seeing your face at peace for once.

GOGOL - clown boy has established he feels guilt over things as much as the next guy, so ohhh BOY is he not gonna handle this too good. honestly, i could see his guilt overwhelming him to the point where he refuses to kidnap you or approach you again at all. he had his chance and made his choice, best to let his birdie be free now, yes? of course, he doesnt let you go TOTALLY. he has his eye on you as often as his schedule will allow. definitely dons disguise after disguise as an excuse to get close to you, maybe even makes up a persona that works at a shop you frequent so he gets to talk to you every day. eventually his mind might fray to the point where he cant STAND it anymore and NEEDS to get you back no matter what, especially if he insists on prolonged exposure to you, but hed probably try to avoid upsetting you as much as he can. youll give in eventually, hes going to be the only person youre ever going to be close to again, after all, so theres no need to force anything. he can convince you of his sincerity, hes sure of it.

also bonus i think this concept would also work really well with jouno what do you think. couldnt think of anything for kouyou sorry :/

- 🩹

thank you so much for all your effort behind this :> hope you're feeling better now!! i tried to write fyodor a little differently for you so. what do you think eheh :> the linked words take you to the original spy au posts for those characters! i considered writing for jouno but this post is way too long already for an ask lol

cw: yandere characters (akutagawa, dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai), obsessive behavior, violence, forced relationships, stalking, manipulation, mentions of torture/interrogations, deceit, imprisonment (not proofread)

akutagawa is constantly tormented with his feelings for you. he knows he doesn't have the time to be in love, since he has more important things to do like make dazai recognize him, but he doesn't have a handle on himself. he can't put a lid on the wonderfully complex things he feels for you, and that's why it manifests the way it did. besides, he can't imagine actually tolerating, let alone liking, you, with all your kindness and concern that was long beaten out of him.

you've always been so kind to him, looking out for him, talking to him, treating him like anyone else. but all he could do in response was nod to your questions. akutagawa himself hasn't been shown a lot of affection so his way of showing his feelings is...awkward. he didn't know how to be friendly or be loved, but you didn't seem to care. and then when he finally, finally identified the cause of his palpitating heart and distracted mind, when he finally came to terms with what he felt, everything went wrong. you weren't supposed to find out, and you weren't supposed to get hurt. you weren't supposed to hate him, even if everyone else did.

he had been prepared to face the anger from his coworkers when they found out he fell for the enemy, but he wasn't planning on you finding out the way you did. and the look on your face, the hatred and the betrayal, it broke him. akutagawa, having lost everything already, grovels at your feet. he's desperate for another chance, but he doesn't dare complain, not when you ignore him and scorn him, not when you refuse to even acknowledge him.

he has hope, though, that one day you'd realize he only wanted to keep you safe. he only wants to show you that he's worth keeping around. you saved him before, and he only wanted to repay the favor forever. your organization was down and yokohama was far from safe, but with akutagawa by your side, nobody would dare touch a hair on your head.

dazai well, it's established he hates you from the moment he was assigned the spying mission. of course he hates you and the dates you planned out and the meals you make and the hand holding and the kissing and the...warmth he never gets elsewhere...and...the adoring way you look at him...and....and...

what was he thinking? you were just a target!

dazai has so many dilemmas during this mission because he's conflicted with hating you for being so damn annoying and feeling something because you're head over heels for an asshole like him, but let's say he pushes down the growing good he feels for you, shoves it away and sticks with hating you constantly for the purpose of this scenario. when the gig's up and you find out he was using you to get intel, there's no point in pretending anymore. no point in going along with your affectionate touches and asking about your day.

dazai has to rely on his usual, faithful method of getting intel—interrogation. he pretends like he doesn't care about hurting your feelings, pretends like it's just another job and it doesn't affect him if you're scared or crying. he doesn't care what you think of him now, of course not.

but right after it's all done, he's drowning in regret. he can't even remember what you told him, he just wants to take it all back. he scared you terribly, he knows he probably traumatized you and he can't undo it anymore. he tries, though, of course he does. at one point you were hopelessly infatuated with him despite how mean he was, so if he was the complete opposite now, you'd definitely look back at him, right? you'll be satisfied seeing him suffer for your sake, right? he'll happily beg for your forgiveness and debase himself if you'd feel even a little satisfied. if there's no way for you to forgive him, then he'll just have to go all out. he'll pull out all the stops and do everything in his power.

(i think dazai would definitely kick into the typical "i'll kill for you" yandere thing around here, hoping that by killing your enemies you'd appreciate him. he can't stand knowing other people were around you, people you had no reason to hate unlike him. what if you liked them instead? you liked dazai despite his shortcomings, so you could also fall for someone else that wasn't him. he couldn't have that)

chuuya (hehehe ive been waiting for this) feels the most guilt out of everyone in this list. i find it hard to imagine him actually hurting darling even if it's for the pm, like you said, he has the most self-control. in the original post of spy au! chuuya, he's completely obsessed with you and ends up scaring you off since you realize something's off, which leads to him finding your new place and what not. so i'll use the premise of him feeling guilty for scaring you and you kinda hating him for being a creep :>

he can't bring himself to hurt you, so knowing he's frightened you, knowing you hate him for what he believed was showing concern for you because he loved you, it shattered him. he didn't mean for you to think that he had it out for you or that he was going to kill you just because he worked for the enemy organization. he loved you and he only wanted you to be safe. he only wanted to get to know you so you'd love him back.

he allows himself to suffer, drinking a dangerous amount almost every night, staying in the apartment you used to instead of his own, looking at all the things he bought you and imagining you using them. it's pathetic to see how he's turned into a helpless, lovesick fool that can't even get you to look twice at him anymore. he tries to throw away the feelings he had, he avoids any mention of you and drowns himself in work and alcohol, but it's only a matter of time before the two of you cross paths again and he's unable to hold back from breaking down and begging you to take him back.

since i don't have a planned out story for fyodor in this spy au i'll make it up as i go. probably some info stealing for the doa, he can't exactly ask anyone else to go. bram is...in an awkward state, kamui is far too much of a public figure, sigma is too busy with the casino, and nikolai...there's no guarantee he won't just kill you, and fyodor can't have that, not after all his efforts to track you down and choose you for his mission. you should be honored, really, that he's giving you such an important role in his plans. maybe he could even convince you to join his side and completely sell out your organization.

everyone knows fyodor would be successful in his mission, and they know he'd get you wrapped around his finger very quickly. of course you don't think there's a single suspicious thing about this strange man who suddenly walked through the doors of your life and is somehow always around you and wow he's so nice and wow, isn't this moving too fast? but fyodor has that way of reassuring you with a smile and gentle strokes that there was nothing to worry about, and who were you to question him then?

you try to make him happy. he's always a bit emotionless, always a neutral expression on his face so you can't really tell if he's upset or happy when you greet him with a kiss. or is that surprise on his face? you don't know if he likes you holding his hand or if he wants to hear about your day, but one reassuring squeeze of the hand and an acknowledging hum sends you happily continuing your earlier actions. fyodor is a little surprised by your efforts to make him feel included. he's used to silence except for nikolai's random interruptions, but having you constantly by his side isn't the worst. compared to the miserable people in the world, you weren't nearly as unbearable for him.

fyodor is mostly surprised by how disappointed you look when it all blows over, and his identity is revealed. you're not disappointed at him, but at yourself for falling for a lie, and causing your coworkers deaths. he was too good to be true, you think, and you blame yourself for falling for his tricks. trust one charming stranger, and look where that got you? in some obscure prison cell and subjected to cruel questioning.

it's not very satisfying seeing you cry and rub at your red eyes. it's far from nice when you're ignoring him and boiling with resentment. and well, he shouldn't care. you had one purpose in his plan and it was now fulfilled. you should be happy you had a chance to help out in the making of fyodor's goals, but here you were sobbing so uncontrollably. he's a little uncomfortable seeing you look so devastated, and he's uneasy now that you don't tell him anything anymore. it's unfamiliarity that haunts him because you've changed, and not for the better. if he sees you opening up around sigma, who was the most ordinary person in the building, he's a little troubled by it, but you glaring at him with burning hatred is even worse than seeing you talk to someone else, so he just leaves the room.

despite the unhelpful suggestions he gets from the rest, he doesn't want you to lose your mind like ivan, even if the latter claims he isn't unhappy anymore. watching you when you sleep1!! yes, the only time he feels he can be around you now, when you're unaware of his presence. he doesn't like it, doesn't like having to walk on eggshells and hide from you like he was in the wrong. which he shouldn't be. he was only saving you from that hellhole and that shitty organization that never stood a chance against him. if he left you back there, you'd be dead. shouldn't you be grateful?

considering nikolai is like, the master of disguises, this mission should have been a piece of cake. get intel, and then he can do whatever he wants to you and your friends. this was a fun break for him! he was asked to join the company you worked for (a front for the organization) as a new hire and gather all the intel he could, but he didn't think he'd get attacked to anyone on the job.

you were surprisingly excited to guide him around the office, taking the senior role with pride. nikolai doesn't let it slip that he doesn't care about what you do or where the break room is, so he happily follows you around and shares your enthusiasm. you're all friendly and helpful to him, and he doesn't mind at all but it was a little annoying when he was trying to bug a meeting room and you just came around the corner, insisting he check out the new coffee machine. well, despite how irritating it got, he couldn't bring himself to dislike you for it.

and really, he can't help but tease you a little, watching the startled expression when he stares at you a little too coldly for a little too long, or lets it casually slip that he knew about the organization, though he's a little surprised by how quickly you bounce back to your usual carefree manner. oh, but the fun hadn't started yet! he was mostly looking forward, to the after. he couldn't wait to see your expression when you realize you've been cheated all along, and how you were going to die by his hands—

—but when the day came, it wasn't even a little satisfying to see you crumble. he didn't expect to be consumed entirely with guilt when he sees you tear up, hurt in your eyes. something inside him aches; he knows he's not invulnerable to feeling like this, but this intensity of emotion was new. he can't bear to look at you, facing the horror etched into your face at the sight of him, so he just disappears into his coat, leaving you somewhere far away from the devastation.

despite how much he yearns to be free he can't let you experience the same, unable to stop thinking about you. he checks in on you from time to time, hoping you'd try seeking him out. after all, he was the only other person who knew what happened, and you couldn't rely on anyone like you could on him. he knew you better than anyone else, all your secrets and your thoughts, and you'd need him by your side.

he'll definitely give into his urges and kidnap you eventually. he can't bear to be away from you, not after he knows you're probably feeling lonely, not knowing anyone else who could understand you. well, you probably didn't want to see the man who ruined your life, but it wasn't like you had many options. he's sorry that he hurt you, really! nikolai promises to be good, to go back to being the guy you befriended, but only if you promise to stay by his side.

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thebahwrites · 1 year

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Based on @beezelarts ‘Hangman may be mildly Dyslexic’ hc poll and @reiverreturns ‘Hangman is a dyslexic menace so that’s where the callsign comes from’ hc

TRYST TRUCK TRUST

“I ain’t stupid.”

It takes Javy a moment to understand what the blond boy is saying, as they’re sitting across from each other in the boy’s bedroom. He honestly hadn’t thought much when the indication of tutoring a Seresin kid came along — it was good money, he wasn’t so sure if it’d be easy but at the very least, worth the shot.

“Sorry?” He asks with a slow blink, staring back at Jake. High School Football Team Captain Quarterback Texan All American Boy Extraordinaire Jake Seresin, in all of his blond golden boy glory, green eyed and sitting there in his F-18 Hornet Schematics t-shirt with thick rimmed black glasses that looked a little like he was one of those stereotypical popular kids trying to look the part of a nerd cosplay.

Not like it bothered Javy, he’d been on the team just two years ago, too. The two of them weren’t so removed from each other’s timelines, Jake just happened to be a Sophomore where Javy had just graduated.

“I ain’t stupid.” Jake repeats himself and frustration is almost palpable in the words; they’ve been there for an hour already while Javy was going over the guy’s assignments and grades to try and see what exactly he’d been struggling with. It was all a mismatched collection of A pluses, C minuses and F’s that honestly made no sense for a guy with all the money in the world.

“Yeah, I hear you.” Javy confirms with a nod before Jake repeats himself, he can see the mixed feelings bubbling under the boy’s surface. Picking up on his assignments, then carding through the other subject’s folders; math and science and physics, Seresin was killing it but apparently not where reading was concerned. “I don’t think you are.” There’s an inkling to him that makes Javy think the blond might have heard he was stupid at least a few good times, enough to internalize it.

“Okay, good.” Jake’s answer is closed off, cagey, giving off the energy of someone who’s trying so hard to save face while also self-doubting like mad. Now, Javy had come here to teach a rich brat he assumed was just fucking around during classes and leave; he wasn’t expecting to find a guy who was genuinely trying and failing.

“...do me a favor and read this passage for me.” He points out at one of the reading assignments reports, handing it over to the guy, Jake nods. And then he takes precisely five minutes (Javy checks on his watch) until he clears his throat. “Out loud, please.”

Green eyes stare back, blinking in quick succession before he spots a tinge on pink at the tips of the boy’s ears, obviously ashamed even though he tries not to look startled. “Oh, right, sorry.” Noted, clear instructions.

It takes another minute for Jake to pick up and read the passage, hesitantly. “I love your daughter fondly, dearly, disin– disin– disinterd– fuck!” It’s almost like watching someone repeatedly run into a wall they can’t walk past and Javy feels bad, so he reaches forward to cover the passage, eyes keeping on Jake’s face, checking for changes.

“Disinterestedly.” He offers, calmly, trying not to sound patronizing and somehow wary the guy would simply throw a tantrum or something if he did so.

“Disinterestedly.” Jake repeats, half annoyed, eyebrow lifted in a mild challenge as if inviting Javy to mock him back. Instead, Javy gives the blond boy a long, puzzled look, letting the gears inside his own brain turn before he speaks again.

“I’m not–”

“Stupid, I know, I seriously don’t think you are.” Javy almost rushes to say because he can see the way Jake is chewing the inside of his own mouth. “So...trust me to help you?”

Jake stares back. Javy stares back.

“Yeah, alright.”

#abt: my writing #jake hangman seresin #javy coyote machado #top gun maverick ficlet #tgm hc #top gun fic #macheresin #or #serechado #if you squint???#idk #can be romantic or platonic #go off!#long post #based on me tutoring my brother!#who's dyslexic!#i kinda wanted to go into a lot more detail but #here's something sweet?#coyote x hangman

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

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Beskar Doll - Ch. 26: Making a Capture

Patience - and spy skills - pay off on Hosnian Prime. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 2.9K

The next day was much of the same. You watched diligently out the window as people went about their lives on the streets below, fighting the urge to play with the cooing, babbling baby that was only a few feet from you.

You were starting to think you weren’t going to get anywhere with this when a young man - he couldn’t have been more than 30 - looked a bit cagey as he knocked on the door. It opened for him and he went inside.

“Mando,” you said, keeping the binocs to your eyes. “Can you see the door from here with the helmet?”

“Get something?” He asked, coming in close beside you. So close that his arm was pressed against yours. It took you a moment to remember what it is you were saying.

“Young guy just went inside,” you said. “Don’t think it was the quarry but…”

“But?” He asked after you were quiet for a moment.

“But I think he’s one of his buddies,” you replied, still watching the door. “It’s been a few years but he’s definitely familiar.”

Din tensed beside you.

“No, you can’t kill him.”

The man came out a few minutes later, still looking around cautiously.

“Not our guy,” Din confirmed. “But he’s the right age.”

“Can you track him from here?” You asked, keeping an eye on where he was going until he was out of sight.

“Tagged him,” he confirmed. You lowered the binocs. “What’s next.”

“We follow.”

Din stashed the kid - who was half asleep already - in his bag and put him on his back this time, closing him in totally as you scrambled to gather the few things that had made their way out of your bag.

You were rushing, going down a street parallel to the one the man had gone down, hoping he hadn’t turned.

“I’ve got him tracked, Doll,” Din said, voice steady. “Remember your resources.”

“I might need to ditch you though,” you said, starting to cut over to the other street. “You’re too noticeable.”

“No,” he said sharply. “Safety risk.”

You ground your teeth but kept going, stopping at the corner of a building and scanning the crowd as the lights of the storefronts around you turned on. The man passed you, not noticing you lurking. You smiled, giving him some time to get ahead of you a bit before slipping into the people behind him, Din at your heels.

He made his way through part of the city, you and the Mandalorian trailing him for a full hour. You’d sometimes grab Din and pull him into a shadow before falling into another cluster of people, trying to find other men who were at least close to the same height as Mando as you went. It didn’t help that he had a tendency to be a few inches taller than even the tallest people in a crowd. The man hadn’t seemed to notice the wall of armor stalking him, however. You almost scoffed. What a fucking amateur. You noticed him shift how he was moving before the Mandalorian did, quickly grabbing Din and pulling him to the side, tucking him fully into the shadows as you watched the man go into a building, apartments from the look of it.

“What next,” Din asked without asking, your hand still against his chest as you looked out on the street around you.

“Want to see all the ways in and out,” you said. “Then see if we can find a place where I can watch them all.” You looked back to him. “Can you stay put for just five minutes? I’d rather a Mandalorian not be seen prowling around outside the place. I promise I won’t go far.”

He considered it for a moment.

“Fine,” he said. “But com link on.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, flipping the link on with dramatic flair. You could feel him glare at you.

“What, you’re paranoid.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m experienced. Five minutes, Doll, then I find you.”

You glared at him for a second but started out. You tried to look unobtrusive, though you highly doubted the man you’d been following was looking for you. He hadn’t noticed you following him before, he wouldn’t notice you now.

In a happy bit of luck, the building only had two exits and a few units. Judging from the timing of lights coming on in the corner unit on the third floor up, that’s where he was. At least you doubted he’d be sneaking anyone in and out through windows. You made your way back to the Mandalorian.

“Where to.”

“Haven’t quite figured that out yet,” you replied, looking around you. Mando watched you, leaning against the wall. After a moment, you sighed. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Your hunt.”

“You want to say something.”

“If you want help you have to ask for it,” he replied.

“You know, this is a lot easier when it’s just me and not two meters of beskar just hanging out in the background,” you glared at him. He laughed once.

“Figure it out or ask, Doll.”

You glared at him for a moment before looking back to the building. The apartment across from the man’s lights were off.

“Stay put,” you ordered him. “Five minutes.” You turned to leave and then looked back. “Maybe 10.”

“Don’t push it.”

You went back to the building and tried the door, but it needed a code. There was a panel next to the door with unit numbers. You loosened yourself up for a moment before buzzing a unit that you were pretty sure had a light on and didn’t have the quarry’s suspected friend.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’sorry,” you slurred, leaning against the wall beside the panel like you could barely hold yourself up. “I jus’ moved in and I can’t ‘member the code, would you mind letting me in?”

The man on the other end sighed.

“Don’t make a lot of noise.”

The door slid open.

“Thanks s’much!” You stumbled to the door. “I’mma buy you a beer…”

You didn’t wait for a response, finding your way to the lift and heading to the third floor, keeping up the drunk act. You stumbled your way to the unit you hoped was empty. There was no indication of anyone living there from the outside, so you took a guess at the key code - just four zeros, simple for people coming by to look at the place. The door slid open. Totally empty. You ducked inside and quickly closed and locked the door behind you, changing the code and bringing up the camera from the other side of the door on the panel. Perfect.

“Found a spot, Mando,” you smirked into your com link, couldn’t help it. “Go to the entrance, press the button for 3B and I’ll let you in.”

There was a pause.

“How did you do that.”

“Amazing what people will do for you if they don’t think you’re a threat,” you replied. “Much easier without all the armor…”

There was an almost exasperated sigh.

“On our way.”

If secrecy hadn’t been paramount, you’d have made him wait longer at the door of the building but, instead, you let him up and inside immediately, closing the door behind him.

“Good job, Doll,” he said, sounding frustrated about it. You smiled.

“I’ll watch the panel,” you said. “Should see him come and go from there. Feel free to nap.”

You could feel him glare at you.

“What?” You were trying not to laugh.

“You’re doing this like a spy,” he said.

“So?”

“It’s working.”

You smirked.

You watched the panel overnight, having a hard time keeping your eyes open but pushing through. When you’d trained, you’d stayed awake for three solid days once. Yes, you were a teenager then, back when sleep seemed like a choice more than a necessity. But you could do that again.

It was easier said than done now, though, and you had to focus to keep your eyes from crossing. You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been sitting there when Din came and sat beside you, resting his back against the same wall as you.

“You should sleep,” you said, not looking at him, keeping your eyes on the panel showing the empty hallway.

“Don’t need it,” he said.

“Kid still out?” You glanced at him this time, picturing how his body looked below his armor in spite of yourself. He gave a stiff nod and you looked back at the panel.

“Bored yet?”

You laughed a little.

“I did think bounty hunting would be a bit more exciting,” you replied.

“Can be,” he shrugged. “Sometimes it’s this. Thought you’d be used to it with spying.”

“When you’re spying, the information is the goal, not the person,” you replied. “Can’t get away with watching from a distance for long, you have to be closer than this. At least, with the kind of work I did, anyway.”

Din was silent for a moment.

“Just how…” he paused. “Close did you get.” You frowned, confused. “To the people you were spying on. Did you have to…”

You frowned, actually turning your head to look at him this time.

“Din, are you asking me if I fucked the people I was getting information out of?” You half smiled. He didn’t say anything. You looked forward again. “No, never had to fuck information out of anyone. Definitely flirted it out of a fair few people but that was usually plenty to get them alone to capture them. Or get me closer to the person who needed interrogating.” The hallway was still empty.

He was quiet beside you.

“Why?” You asked eventually, staring at the monitor in the panel. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him and have this conversation.

“I just… don’t know anything about that aspect of your life,” he said, voice hesitant.

“The interrogation work or my sex life?” You teased. You felt him glare at you and you sighed. “Yeah, I know. You’ve seen some of the interrogation work.”

You were quiet for a minute.

“I mean, do you really want to know?” You asked, glancing at him. “I don’t know anything about yours, either.”

He shrugged.

“Not much to know,” he said. “Usually just a physical release when there’s a woman who’s interested.”

You nodded slowly, a sharp pain gnawing at your stomach. Well, you were a woman who was interested. Probably why he said he wanted you to stay. You were convenient. You could live with that. Better than any other option you’d had in years, in all honesty. You fidgeted with the seam of your pants near your knee and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“Not much to know for me, either,” you said, pulling harder at the seam. “Dagres was my first everything. And I was married to Kann, so…” `

“No one else?” He asked after a moment.

“I was a little busy trying to keep my best friend alive and then try to lay low enough that the Empire thinks I’m dead,” you didn’t mean to sound harsh but you did. You sighed. “But no. No one else until… well…”

You shrugged.

“Doll, I…” he began, but you cut him off.

“Really, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “I don’t want your pity, Din.”

There was a move on the monitor and you both focused on it, watching as the man emerged, looking around hesitantly before going down the hall.

“What time is it?” You whispered.

“Almost three,” he was just as quiet. You nodded once. “Grab the kid?”

You got up and reprogrammed the lock to all zeros again, like you were never here, and waited until you were sure he’d made it onto the lift before going into the hall.

You took the stairs down and watched him leave the building from the stairwell, following about 10 meters back. He went into a bar about two clicks away and you stayed in the shadows outside, watching from across the street.

“This is weird, right?” You asked, glancing up at Mando. “He was home, leaves in the middle of the night to go to a bar…”

“Good for meeting someone who doesn’t want to be seen,” he replied.

You weren’t waiting long when someone who - from behind, at least - looked like he could be your quarry.

“Think that’s him?” You asked, looking at the door he’d just disappeared into.

“Try the tracker,” he replied. “If it’s him, he’s close enough that it should work.”

You nodded once, pulling it out of your bag, pointing it toward the bar and flipping it on. It beeped and flashed. You glanced at Mando. He nodded once.

“Good work, Doll,” he said. “That’s him. How do you want to handle capture?”

You thought for a second, pocketing the tracker.

“We go in separately, me first,” you replied, meeting his eyes below the helmet. “I’ll see if I can get him outside. If I’m not out in five or you hear a commotion then you come in as backup.”

“You’ve got the com,” he said. You nodded once. He sighed. “Keep it on. I’ll go silent, at least then I can step in sooner if there’s a problem.”

“It’s going to be fine,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m armed and it’s probably not going to be four against one this time….”

“Doll,” he growled. “Safety. Com on.”

You pulled the com link from your pocket, made a show of flicking it on, and then put it back.

“Thank you,” he replied. “See you in five.”

You steeled yourself and headed for the bar.

It was quiet inside, only a handful of patrons left. Chellen and his friend were sitting at the bar, talking quietly to each other. You took a spot a few seats down from them, turning your head enough that they couldn’t see much of your face but sitting so they would see your figure. And the electrostaff strapped to your belt.

It didn’t take long for him to do exactly what you expected.

“Nice weapon,” he said, sliding up beside you. “Don’t see many of those around here.”

“I know,” you turned to face him, smiling. “I took this one a few years back, figured it was due for a visit.”

His eyes went wide and he stepped back from you.

“No…” he shook his head, looking over his shoulder to the man you’d spent the last day tailing.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave yourself?” You slipped off the barstool, one hand drifting down toward your blaster, the other setting the puck on the bar, the man’s face rendered in holographic light. “You ignored me, Chellen. I told you what would happen if you didn’t listen. Now, I’ve come to collect.”

The other man ran for the door and you let him go. You were pretty certain it was his vibroknife that had burned on Dantooine. He was hardly worth the trouble. The quarry’s eyes were wide and wild, weighing his options as you prowled closer, a hand close to your blaster. He decided to risk it, but he was slow, his blaster not even fully freed of its holster when your shot landed on his shoulder. You holstered your blaster again. The bar went silent beyond the man’s shout of pain.

“Guild business,” you said, still watching him, his weapon abandoned on the floor. “No need to be concerned.”

Chellen, to his credit, was still on his feet, a hand clutched to his injured shoulder as he looked for a way out.

“Running is a stupid move,” you warned him. “You’re worth more to me alive and I could use the credits. Make it easy on yourself.”

He ignored your advice, darting for the door. You sighed, about to give chase, when he ran smack into the Mandalorian’s armored chest. He fell back a step before grabbing Din’s arm.

“Please,” he said, words spilling from him so fast they were barely intelligible. “Please, kill her, I have credits I can hire you…”

The Mandalorian just looked down at him. You could feel the anger rolling off him. The quarry must have felt it, too, as he stepped backwards, closer to you. You resisted the urge to glare at Din. How was it that the Mandalorian became the bigger threat when you were what the guy was running from to begin with? A big man in shiny armor is apparently all it took to intimidate some people.

“Now Chellen,” you sighed, coming up behind him. He turned to face you, backing up as he did until his back was against the Mandalorian. “That was stupid. He wants you dead way more than I do. He wasn’t too pleased with the condition I was in the last time we met. He’s an eye for an eye sort of person…”

His head swung around to look at the Mandalorian as you pulled out the cuffs, slapping the first one on him while he was distracted.

“Lucky for you,” you said, grabbing his other wrist and quickly cuffing it before you started patting down his pockets. “I’m the one leading this hunt. Don’t try anything too stupid and you live. Break one of the rules Mando’s made up for you and you die.”

He gulped.

“Let’s go,” Mando growled, grabbing the man by the collar and hauling him from the bar. You retrieved the puck and put a few credits on the bar top.

“For your trouble,” you said with a nod to the bartender before leaving the bar, watching the Mandalorian haul the man you’d captured together toward the ship.

A/N: I did promise the balance between plot and smut would even out again eventually and that time is now! I hope you enjoyed Doll's version of hunting - and Mando's version of trying to not run the show all the time. And while we got no Din POV this time, next chapter opens with some so, for those who love to read from our stoic hero's perspective, he's coming back quick.

I'm super excited about the next big arc in their story. We're going to have a short, off shoot next chapter or two and then it's into a longer arc with higher stakes and very big moments. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thanks for being here! Love you!

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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levmada · 8 months

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Levi Week - Day 2 (Underground city)

@leviweek2023

thought up a scrumptious bit of dialogue and it turned into fem!reader seeking Levi out in an underground bar for a special purpose… might continue this?

-> short!fem!reader, they’re both sassy as fuck, references to prostitution | 0.6k

based on this song ↴

The guy on stage—an intelligent-looking older man with a trimmed 5’oclock shadow—saunters about, singing with a cocky swagger Levi decides he likes more every time he comes down to the Underground to perform. His looks portray nobility in a three-piece suit despite the cigarette pinched between his fingers and dancing shoes.

Saxophones blare over a tune that sounds drunk.

“I might be right! I might be wrong! Try to get away and I’ll bring you right along, so…”

He’s apart from Farlan tonight, as the official-unofficial bouncer of this tavern. It’s a complimentary service for the owners who do seedy work with Levi’s group, and do their job well.

The bar is packed. Levi sits in a booth near to the entrance with one arm slung over the back and a complimentary tin mug of ale in front of him, which he hasn’t touched.

Whistles shoot forth from the crowd as the man growl-sings that he owns the crowd.

A woman appears from the crowd in a long dress that looks a size too small for her. He notices she’s wearing a corset (how else does someone attain a waist like that?) and a bodice as tight as her dress. Her cleavage is close to spilling over her neckline. She might be even shorter than him, but by the makeup neatly accentuating her features, she’s not the sort of woman of the night Levi would pity more than usual.

“Hello there,” you greet with an overly cheerful smile and a curtsy. “You’re Levi, aren’t you.”

Sensing your intentions, he ignores you completely as a couple guys at the bar throw back shots with some loud hollers. They’re worth him keeping his eye on if they get rowdy.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

As you move towards the opposite seat, Levi can see the stage again. The song has ended. The man wipes the visible sweat on his face with a handkerchief as he taps the air with his finger, as if he’s the one leading the drums back in again.

You don’t take the hint, and sit in front of him with your hands steepled under your chin.

Suddenly you chuckle. “All the people say you’re the strong, silent type. I didn’t believe them at first.”

He looks at you with disinterest. “Which part?”

“The silent part.” One side of your mouth curls up. “I was right.”

It doesn’t seem like payment interests you, so he takes the forward approach.

“I’m not interested.”

“Oh, just because I show myself off, you think I’m a whore?”

“You must be from the Surface,” he snarks.

“That doesn’t matter. None of the girls I talked to have ever had so much as a conversation with you.”

Definitely from the surface. He thought your rigid accent was an act, as it commonly is among some women around here. It’s more attractive to clients that way.

“Is being known as strong and tough that important to you?”

He stares at you.

“So?”

“What do you want?” he asks flatly.

“Not to get laid, though that’s not off the table. I want to serve the King—don’t we all?”

“Take the nearest staircase back up and go do that, then. You won’t find people who think that way here.”

“Won’t I?”

He’s surprised to glance again and notice you no longer have that cagey smile on your face.

“Meet me outside after the show.”

You stand abruptly, and shuffle from your seat, keeping your eyes on his as you do. You’re unlike no one who’s wanted a job done by him before—or that’s the implication he’s gathered.

Oh well. Either way, you have his attention.

#levi ackerman fanfic #levi week 2023 #levi fanfic #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x you #Spotify

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lookatlavender · 1 year

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Denial Challenge Update (31 days, 14 hours left)

been so turned on all day, i haven’t touched since this morning but i’ve been playing all day. I was good until like halfway through work I started getting cagey. I went into the bathroom and found some surgical/cleaning gloves, and stuffed some into my pussy. Then I went back out onto the floor and helped customers, feeling the gloves every time I walked around.

When I was alone on break I did some pain play on my nipples too, which i haven’t done in a minute. Partly because they were healing 😅 I kept wiggling my hips by accident while I hurt myself, and being so full while i did felt amazing. I didn’t get close which sometimes happens, but that was ok with me cause i’m not technically supposed to edge again today

Before I left I was (unsurprisingly) feeling turned on and like doing something else, so I went back into the bathroom once I was off my shift. I knew I wasn’t as full as I could be, so I grabbed more gloves and stuffed myself completely full. If I thought I could feel them before, it was nothing compared to now. Literally any time I stepped or even shifted my weight, i could feel the gloves moving and stretching my pussy out.

I originally planned to just keep them inside until I got home, but I like how it feels so much that I haven’t taken them out yet even hours later. They feel like they fit better now too, i bet if i had more I could fit them in there. kinda sad that i don’t 🥺

I think when I take them out I might switch them for some silicone eggs, or a whole dildo and cockwarm it for a while. I sadly can’t fuck myself because I didn’t use my edges wisely, but I think keeping myself full is acceptable 😈 I just like feeling like a toy and keeping my pussy stuffed to its limit makes me feel used in the best way, let’s me imagine that I have to keep myself stretched out so I can be used any moment

#denial challenge #denial nsft #chastity nsft #edgeslut #edging nsft #trans sub #ftm sub

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whatanightmaregrinch · 1 year

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Nick Valentine X Fem!Sole Survivor- confessions

"Are you ...sure doll?" Nick couldnt quite believe what he was hearing. She nodded, looking at her feet, cheeks ablaze. She was positioned on the edge of his desk, infront of where he sat on his chair. "I've felt like this for awhile. I understand if-" Nick looked at her in alarm, his better hand going to her knee to squeeze it gently. "-its not that, I just.. I mean, doll you've gotta be blind to-" her head snapped up and she regarded him with an intense gaze that made him feel like he might melt under the aggressive heat of it. "I've got to be blind to what ?" She asked pointedly. "I'm not really everyone's glass of nuka cola, doll. You can't blame me for pointing that out." He tried to keep his tone measured, but he was starting to wear thin. The last thing he needed was adding more emotion to an already charged situation. "You can't blame me for pointing out that asking me if I'm sure and telling me I'm blind for being romantically interested in you is rude, then." She said, and Nick found himself unable to disagree. It wasnt like he'd not imagined this scenario in the deepest parts of his mind. He'd taken a liking to her months and months ago, he'd just kept those thoughts to himself, already deciding it was too much for him to bother her with. He didnt know how to reach out and take hold of the situation, and so they sat in an uncomfortable silence. She noted his hand was still clasped on her knee. "If this is all you have to say about it, maybe we should forget I said anything." She said in a small voice, and it would have broken his heart if he had one. His chest still ached regardless, and he was reminded of the institutes cruel tricks. He'd give anything not to feel what he did right now. How it must have taken her so much to be vulnerable with him after Nate, and he'd made her close right back up again, stomping right on the weak flowers she'd managed to grow in her emotional garden. He had feelings for her too, and he was treating her like dirt. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words he needed fell away from him. His mind was reeling. Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away. She was fast, but he saw them. "Right, then." She tried to compose herself, and the detective sat there in a cagey silence. Moving his hand from her knee, she slid off of the desk, and on her way to the door, she patted him on the shoulder, face turned away from him. "Thank you for listening to my feelings. I'll see you tomorrow." Her voice was strange, and there was no discernable tone to it. Her footsteps were loud in his ears, and he willed his body to move, for him to say something, anything from stop her from leaving. His brain spat out the first thing it could think of.

"Hard." He managed to eek out, turning around in the chair to face her retreating form, and she stopped with her hand on the door knob. "Excuse me?" She clarified. "It's .. hard for me. To talk like this. I feel like I've already messed it up, doll." He stood up, tucking his chair under the desk as he crossed the room to her. "I can understand that." She reasoned, and turned to him, but would not face up to him, instead choosing to look at their shoes instead. "Look at me." He said softly, and she shook her head, hair hanging over her face and covering her expressions from him. His hand went to her chin and he tilted it up for him to pass a look at her face. Her lashes were wet and sticking together from the tears bubbling up and rolling down her face, and she was flushed. How many times she'd needed to cry in silence at such intensity was something he didnt want to think about. He'd not even noticed till he saw them. Cautiously, he wiped the tears away with his thumb. "I dont mean that I'm not interested in you, Sole." He reassured her, and he picked up on her brief expression change. The flash of hope left him raw. "I just.. I don't have all the parts, doll. Some of my face isnt even there anymore. I dont want you to be disappointed." He admitted. There were soft hands sliding up his forearms to his shoulders, up to his cheeks. His eyebrows furrowed in tension at the move, he rarely had people touch him to begin with, let alone like that.

"Oh Nick, how could I be disappointed with you? All of these parts of you and the ones I'm yet to discover, don't you think I atleast deserve to make up my own mind about it?" He felt like drowning in her eyes, her touch was everywhere, he could smell her perfume and he was dizzy from her being so close. The tension he felt before eased after her gentle touches worked them out, thumbs rubbing little circles in his cheeks. "S-suppose you do have that right." He said dumbly. His hands moved of their own accord to settle on her waist, pulling her closer. Nick was pretty sure he'd died and gone to whatever god loved him most when she leaned up on her tippy-toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes closed automatically, and he enjoyed the sensation for what it was. "Can i..?" He asked, and she laughed softly, sniffling a little. "If you like." She replied, and he stopped down, and kissed her cheek. He marvelled the way blood flushed to her cheeks, and for the first time in a long time, he felt warm.

#whatanightmaregrinch #fallout4 #fallout #nick valentine #nick valentine fo4 #reader insert #nick valentine x reader #slight angst #miscommunication #confessions #returned affections

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soldsouls · 3 months

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This post is me putting together the basics of this blog's AU in what I hope will be an easy to reference format. Further detail, of course, can be found in the headcanon tags or folks can just ask. I'm admittedly playing fast and loose with certain things to make this work, but nothing too egregious.

FURTHER REFERENCE.

Why does Asmodium want Bean?

What exactly is Luci?

BASICS.

RACE: Appears elven, actually a fiend CLASS: Bard (College of Whispers) BACKGROUND: Criminal

BACKGROUND.

Luci hails from the Nine Hells. Though he has existed for millennia, he has failed to rise above a base rank and succeeded only in becoming a target for his peers. Then came a golden opportunity. A bargain had been made with the devil Asmodium that needed to be paid, and Luci was just the fiend to ensure that happened. He was to become the personal devil of the mortal Bean and lead her down a path of corruption. It was thought that what made him a luckluster devil would cause her to lower her defenses and become more malleable.

It arguably worked — but, alas, it worked both ways. As Bean came to care for Luci, Luci came to care for her and for their mutual friend, Elfo. When opportunities arose to corrupt them both, he found he could not capitalize on them as a devil should. He gave any number of excuses for this, refused to admit the truth, but protest as he might, he loved them too much to damn them.

Then Elfo died, and the circumstances saw his soul dragged to the Hells. Bean was determined to save him, even if she had to pull him from the fires herself. And so she did. With Luci at her side, she braved the Hells for him. Nevertheless, Luci was only a lowly imp who could not save himself let alone anyone else. He made a show of selling out his friends and employed his silver tongue to win two promotions. Unorthodox and inadvisable, this earned him a week of the purest agony. His friends fared no better in that time. The moment he was free, however, he used his newfound power to snatch them from Asmodium.

No sooner had he returned them home than he was dragged back to face judgment. He had achieved all he'd ever wanted and sacrificed it in the same moment. He was not only stripped of his promotions but afflicted of a special punishment. He would be bound to the appearance of an elf and sent to the Material Plane. There he would manage a tavern called Luci's Inferno, acting as a front for all manner of criminal and diabolic enterprises. He would ensnare a certain number of souls every thirty days or face dire consequences. If he was killed, it would be death in truth as if he had been slain in the Hells. And his friends? He should not think of seeing them again or the Hells might see fit to reclaim what he'd freed.

ACT ONE.

Luci was among the number picked up by the Nautiloid and infected. He wandered from the crash site off toward Moonhaven, aka the Blighted Village. There the party will find him egging on a group of bored goblin guards who have taken to fighting each other for entertainment. He joins easily, even eagerly. He's very open about being a fiend and his general circumstances, although he's cagey about how he ended up in them. He also expresses a certain appreciation for the tadpole or rather its beneficial side effects. Thanks to it, he has access to abilities that effectively allow him to class as a bard.

ACT TWO.

As Act One draws to a close, Luci will begin acting nervous, skittish, not as irritating as usual and twice as jumpy. Soon after entering the shadow-cursed lands, Asmodium will appear in camp during a long rest, scruff Luci, and (unless the others intervene) throw him across camp. Luci is behind on his quota of souls and ought to pay the price for it. However, Asmodium gives him an opportunity to redeem himself instead. Luci is tasked with seeking out Bean and Elfo in Baldur's Gate and delivering their souls to Asmodium. If he succeeds, he will be freed of his punishment. And, Asmodium will be absolved of the consequences of giving Luci not one but two unwarranted promotions.

After this, Luci will open up about his history, at least the basics. He's not one to admit he cares, but he is clear that he doesn't want to sell out his friends. He would rather find a way to free them from Asmodium permanently. He says he might know a way (as it turns out, he's spent his entire exile pondering this problem) but he needs to think on it more.

ACT THREE.

Upon entering Rivington, Luci becomes very eager to visit the Circus of Last Days. He will ask for help winning Akabi's jackpot; if questioned as to why it's important, he says to just go with the flow on this one. In the painted chest inside the jungle to which player is sent after winning, they'll find a scroll that allows the caster to summon Akabi and ask a single Wish*. The scroll can only be used once. The player can give it to Luci to advance his personal quest, deceive him that they did not find it, or admit they found it yet refuse to give it to him. The latter results in him permanently leaving the party.

If given the scroll, he insists on waiting to use it so that he can word the most perfect wish. Djinni are notoriously crafty where wishes are concerned, and he has only one chance at this. A devil knows better than to leap too soon. He proposes that you track down Bean and Elfo and bait Asmodium into attempting to claim them. Then they'll know exactly how to word the wish.

Bean and Elfo's reaction to Luci is hostile. All they know is he "betrayed" them in the Hells, finally saved them, but then immediately ghosted them. He makes no attempt to tell his side. He only talks them into agreeing to his plan so they can be free of Asmodium forever. By default, he will succeed. In the moment Asmodium comes for them, he invokes the perfect wish to free them of all the harm that has befallen them. But in removing all traces of Asmodium from their lives, Luci also removes himself. He and Asmodium are both essentially unmade. The long-term consequences of that remain to be seen, but Luci is of course permanently removed from the party. The party is granted a mysterious permanent increase to their hit points, however.

Speaking in terms of game mechanics, though, there would be other options. The player could convince Luci to betray his friends, albeit after passing a very high persuasion check. They may further throw Asmodium under the bus once Luci has succeeded in his mission, granting him not only a reprieve from his exile but a promotion. He will endure the promotion process later but is granted a boon in the meanwhile that makes him a more effective companion. His demeanor toward the entire party will change, however. They have shown him that devils have no use for friends, only ambition.

The final option would be to rat Luci out to Asmodium. Luci is killed. Bean and Elfo have their souls stolen. The player gets to keep the wish scroll, and Asmodium rewards them with an enchanted circlet.

*In terms of game mechanics, the scroll / wish is effectively the same as seen in the previous games. There's no wishing away the Elder Brain, for example. We can say that Luci is able to get some extra oomph out of it because he's a devil. Regardless, it's a potentially very useful item, just not an all-powerful one.

#META / HC: PRIMARY.#will link this in the pinned post #also I know College of Whispers isn't in the game but it fits too well

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yesimwriting · 2 years

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I just wanted to tell you that I LOVED part 2 of Final Girl. Very well written and it had me dying of laughter at certain parts 🤣 like Stu going 'Your mom is hot!' had me done 💀 and the way our mom called us out - 'Do not roll your eyes, he's not a 'monster trying to ruin your life' was so funny for some reason 🤣 Wells sounds like a piece of work and I can't wait to see him and Y/n interact at some point.

All we really know about Wells so far is that Y/n despises him, he drinks alot, and that he's apparently a creep who shows too much interest in Y/n's skirt size 🤢 I think that's the gist of it. I adore our mom lol their mother-daughter dynamic is so cute. Out here threatening to sue the hospital and making us stay overnight 💀 MOM just lemme be FREE 😮‍💨

The way Billy got wistful after seeing us interact with our mom 🥺 and Stu got this strange look too. You can tell Billy was remembering his mom. Also love how competitive Stu and Billy seem to be when it comes to us 🤭 Overall great chapter ❤️

I do have a question - how long do you think Final Girl will be? Chapter wise? 👀

girly you have me near tears!! i love this so much and i was having a rough day (migraine and someone almost rear ended my car!!) and this made me so happy :)) I answered your question at the end of my rant in bold lol,, feel free to scroll to the bottom (also i'm having so much fun talking about them and their dynamics, so if anyone wants to have a final girl talk, send me something!!)

I don't want to spoil anything but i will say that when we finally get a Wells interaction, a lot of things will be made clear. He does kind of have a pervy vibe but that's not what Y/n hates most, not to spoil things but i'm just going to say that Y/n's mom in a relationship and Y/n's mom single are two different people.

I'm so glad you love the mother-daughter relationship as it is going to be a little bittersweet :)) I picture her as a more frazzled Lorelai Gilmore type (if you've watched Gilmore Girls lol) and even though they're super close, Y/n and her make mistakes when it comes to each other but it's all just bc they grew up together, y'know?? And their relationship really affects Billy and Stu.

First off, I really think that Billy and Stu would have a big thing for dependency. Especially Billy (cough, cough mommy issues). A big thing in their lives is absence of positive family bonds, and that's part of the reason they're so close, and so when they first started feeling interested in Y/n (Side note: I actually think Stu would develop a 'crush (obsession)' first and then try to convince Billy to talk to her bc he knows she's special) , and they learned about her home life, they'd resent that relationship with her mom for two reasons.

The first reason--if you're so close with your mom, they're not going to be all you have. Y/n is going to be inherently less dependent on them because she has another support system.

The second reason--they won't really admit this to themselves, let alone to each other, but they're jealous. It's kind of a petty jealousy, but it is a jealousy. I think Stu would be a bit more vocal about this because of the kinda passive aggressive jokes he makes, but it would hit Billy harder. Sometimes he might even lash out at Y/n after seeing her mom do something particularly motherly.

Even Wells kind of plays into this jealousy at first because neither Billy or Stu have met him. They know Y/n complains about him, but they think it's all superficial. A girl who doesn't want a stepdad, that's it. They'll joke or make comments about it even when Y/n gets cagey and uncomfortable and they can tell. They don't mean to consciously, but they're kinda 'punishing' you for having so many parental role models in your life.

Until they learn the real reason Y/n hates Wells because the situation does get worse and Y/n can't keep it secret forever. Then they both really start to hate Wells (and then they feel a tiny bit bad about all the comments they made) and then they get a tiny bit annoyed at you for not saying anything sooner.

they do kinda get a bit better with Y/n’s mom tho!! (she warms up to them and makes one maternal comment and they’re both left shaking fr) mainly bc Gloria is just built different like that, she’d fr solo ghostface with a fresh set of acrylics after a friday night margarita 🙄

Anywaysss,,, sorry i took this as an excuse to ramble about them!! but if anyone wants to talk about Final Girl pls send me stuff!! i have so many thoughts about their dynamics and things to plan!

And!! To answer your question: how many chapters will Final Girl have? That's a little too good of a question lol, I can picture it having around 20 parts bc i think i want to do shorter chapters and more frequent updates, but if y'all prefer longer chapters with a little bit more of a wait between them...lmk!!

#final girl fic #ask #scream imagine #scream 1996 #scream #scream x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu macher

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enneamage · 1 year

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I don't know if you've heard the rumors, but it seems that the friendship between Q and George is VERY TENSE. It seems that the chemistry and all the magic died. So I wanted to ask you what could have happened between those two, or what would be the problems that could happen according to their numbers

I talked about this with dtqk+ friend and they said that it may be a standard case of Quackity Drift, he tends to let certain friends come and go in seasons. I wouldn't call what I hear about them Tense as much as something that's significantly less intense than it once was.

When my friend gave me the refresher history lesson, they reminded me that the same trip that caused friction between George and Sapnap was one that Quackity was there for as well. Unfortunately Quackity and Sapnap kind of bonded over antagonising George, which means that the last time George and Q were in the same place it probably did a little bit of damage to their relationship. While they talked and streamed after this, it seems like they may have gotten a bit more distant since then.

My understanding is they both seem to dance between being cagey and being pushy. They can both push for info when they want it, but they can both be withholding when they’re feeling moody or vulnerable. There’s a lot of room for feeling not listened to when moving between those extremes, which might have watered down their connection. I don’t think they’re actively on bad terms but they don’t seem close right now. Still, not keeping tabs too strongly on either of them so I could be way off base.

#gen grg tag #gen qkty tag #less confident about this post but hopefully this makes sense

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tomodachipersonalitycentral · 3 months

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So, you typed Dorothy as an Easygoing Dreamer and Mordecai as an Independent Lone Wolf. I am curious how compatible they are.

Could you separate it into categories of category compatibility, personality compatibility, overall strengths, and overall weaknesses. Based on that can you give them a compatibility score?

You freaking bet I can! I'll say some basic things I think about the types along with adding in more specifics with these two characters in mind.

Category Compatibility

I believe Easygoing types actually tend to be very attracted to Independent types. This is because Easygoing types are open minded and empathetic, even sometimes to those who do not deserve it. Therefore, when they see Independent types that can be either closed off or ostracized, they feel the need to extend a welcoming hand (or paw, in this case).

However, I think when it comes to Independent types liking Easygoing types back, it can highly depend on how these traits show. In the best cases, Easygoing individuals can be gentle companions to more cagey Independent types, or have their own individual flair that Independent individuals enjoy. At worst, Easygoing types can follow the crowd too much for an Independent type, such as an Easygoing Dreamer having cliché ideas about love, or an Easygoing Buddy agreeing with their friends too much to keep the peace.

With Dorothy and Mordecai, Dorothy is definitely a gentle Easygoing type that makes Mordecai feel comfortable. I'd say her open minded and empathetic nature also makes him feel protective of her, not wanting that light to be snuffed out. He knows Dorothy doesn't want to push through his walls too fast either and respects his feelings.

Personality Compatibility

Easygoing Dreamers I imagine are very attracted to Lone Wolves. Why? Because Dreamers are idealist romantics, and Lone Wolves, dark, brooding, and mysterious often end up having a Dreamer's expectations or desires cast onto them. Sometimes their optimism is a good thing, seeing to the soft center of more cold figures, other times it causes them to be naïve, seeing a prince charming in someone when they're just a jerk.

Even when the Lone Wolf is secretly sweet, it can be hurtful when their Dreamer partners jump to conclusions about their character or push their version of "good" onto the Lone Wolf. Dreamers sometimes expect Lone Wolves to have a complete transformation from cold or a bit distant to absolute, loving sweethearts that just isn't in all of their natures.

However, Dorothy seems like too much of a pessimist for this to fully be a problem, and I can tell she wants Mordecai, as he is, to love her, not an ideal version of him. I think, overtime, as she and Mordecai grow trust in each other, Dorothy will be able to grow a healthy balance between what Dorothy thinks is behind Mordecai's mask out of desire or fear, and seeing Mordecai for who he actually is. I think they'd have understandable expectations for each other, Mordecai not expecting Dorothy to stop being emotional and soft either. Their conflict would come in other areas.

So, remember the point I made about Easygoing Dreamers having cliché expectations about romance? I feel Dorothy might fall into this, which would cause issues. Mordecai shows his love in non traditional ways, something Dorothy might misunderstand and see as uncaring. Meanwhile, Mordecai might feel pressured to be more traditional in his showcases of affection, which he doesn't understand.

Overall Strengths

Dorothy's idealistic views for others could help her uplift Mordecai and help him start looking at things in a more positive light.

Meanwhile, Mordecai could help give a more realistic viewpoint and encourage Dorothy to focus on herself as well.

They both have mostly realistic expectations of the other, and want to love them as they are rather than changing them.

Overall Weaknesses

Dorothy often having her head in the clouds might make it hard for Mordecai to connect with her at times. He doesn't really understand the appeal of fantasy escapism.

But, Mordecai being so grounded might make Dorothy struggle in turn. She might have a hard time connecting with some of the dry discussions Mordecai might enjoy having.

They both have different views about romance, what it looks like and how affection should be shown, which could cause issues in the future.

Compatibility Score

I'd say 70%-79%, or Matching-Outfits Time!

If these two can meet halfway, they may have something together.

It'd certainly be much higher over time, but, at the beginning, they'd really need to meet the other at their level, and have open and honest discussions about their expectations and needs.

#tomotheory #tomotyping

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

Text

Clumsy

Summary: Serendipity, it’s the only way Steve can describe it. His ma was right: he’d always been slow.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

A/N: Fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Steve angst because I love one sad boi. Written for @wkemeup‘s 4K Challenge like an entire year ago!! I’m so sorry, Kas!! The prompt was Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life”. 2.8k words.

It was supposed to rain.

Thunderclaps rolled in the distance all morning. Moisture hung heavy in the air and the earth smelled like wet already--- salty, thick, sweet. The app on his phone blinked gray clouds straight across the screen. Seventy-three degrees and a nine-five percent chance of precipitation. Winds NE 20 miles per hour.

But at 2:30 in the afternoon when Steve slides into the car, it’s clear and blue.

So he figures it’s coincidence and poor meteorology when the engine quietly rumbles to life. He fixes the collar of his shirt, checks for hotels around the midway point, and sends an uneasy look to the empty passenger seat.

Then, he makes his way to where you are.

The two-lane country road stretches on. Winding and curving, pitch-black and howling with wind and wildlife. Bugs splatter on the windshield and he mechanically sprays a bit of fluid, wiping them off, the squeaks giving his radio a bit of rhythm in all this late-night talk. It’ll be another half hour before he gets to the hotel and he’s still wrestling with himself if he should even break.

No reason to now. He can drive all night. No reason to other than his pride.

“So what is it?”

There’s an imprint in the seat. An outline of a warm body folding soft creases in the leather. Late night talk radio fizzles out, and he’s tired, so he can’t get too upset at his brain for seeing the shape even though it’s been months since anyone’s sat there.

He chances a look over, then quickly back ahead because sure—the sedan is small, but this tiny strip of pavement feels even smaller. Too right and he’ll careen into the woods, too left and if another car’s coming around the bend Steve would roll out alive, but he’d be the only one.

He looks again.

Legs folded. Bare feet. Ankles crossed on the dash. Casually sitting with one hand on your phone and the other one behind your head, face lit incandescent by the screen. It was the first time he’d been alone with you after New York; he remembers this.

You hadn’t even given a glance sideways at him, still fixed on the screen, thumb sliding up and focused on mission details in a perfect picture of indifference.

“Your whole thing. Mister Red-White-and-Broody, most eligible bachelor in all of America—which, by the way, is so far up your ass all fifty states might as well be coming out of your mouth—”

“Stop it.”

“Okay, Rogers.” A smirk. His last name slipping between your lips like military title. “Fine, you’re all gilded in the front, suffering in the back. So—” You turned finally, pulled your feet back and tucked them under your body, “What is it?”

Steve pretended to think, left hand clenching a fraction tighter on the wheel, feeling its strength beneath his grip. His face remained impassive and dedicated forward, turning the seconds in his head, counting down the appropriate time for his reply.

It was a game, certainly. Your assertion, your poise, hand propping up your head—all of it. Your entire being was a foil to one Steven Grant Rogers and he was strapped with you for half a week. Already the car ride was beginning to foreshadow what was quickly seeming to be a long assignment.

“It’s my job—”

“So weak.”

“I’m busy—”

“Are you even trying to lie?”

You were known to do this: lay out a path of questions that only gave your company the pretense of a genuine conversation. You’d lead them like a wrangler leading horses to water, knowing they wouldn’t drink, but giving them just enough time to stare at their own reflection in the pool before you’d yank the harness elsewhere.

It was always a short path, but what you lacked in subtlety you made up for with honesty.

Agitated, Steve snapped before he could rein himself back in.

“What are you, my psychologist?” Horse.

“You don’t have one. You are the only Avengers Tower resident who has run off every psychologist on Stark’s payroll. So--” a twist of your torso, your back pressed up against the door handle as you stared at the outline of his side profile. Wrangler.

The question dangled in front of his gritted teeth. The answer he’d known long ago was behind two perfect calcium rows, pressed up, trying to find its way through the cracks.

What’s your thing? We fought together. We live together. We suffered a cataclysmic event in the form of aliens together---so why doesn’t anybody know you?

You leaned forward, body tilting until it almost touched your former footrest. Your head sloped to find his face and when he flicked his eyes sharply to yours, Steve knew it wasn’t sharp enough.

“You don’t want to be vulnerable.”

You’d led him through the brief route of your inquisition and had seen all you cared to see. Your voice bounced off the window when you closed your eyes and turned away.

“Steve,” you sighed, mouth going to the side in a smile. “Vulnerability is clumsy, but it’s the only thing worth anything.”

He had thought: No, it isn’t. He’d spent too long being vulnerable already, and he couldn’t afford it again. Twenty years of a miserable half-life and seventy years of sleep and suddenly the world was new and different and strange. Coming back into his body was new and different and strange but it was the body that afforded him invulnerability.

Mostly, anyway.

Steve decided, then, at least he could make up for that lump of mortality—that lump of weakness—with performance.

So, he became the blacksmith to his feeble Brooklyn boy heart. Forged carbon steel, gold-plated, immaculately polished like his own shield at press conferences. Smoothed himself into a monumental display of impeccable posturing and hid the boy away where no one could reach him. Let him go back to sleep, too. Frozen in a time long passed, long forgotten.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers anymore because no one knew Steve Rogers anymore; it was the only way he could carry on. Didn’t you know?

No, he supposed, you didn’t.

On the ride back you surrendered yourself to the backseat, laying down in the most comfortable position the sedan would allow, and chatted his ear off the entire ride home. Called him Steve and looked at him through the rearview mirror. Eyes met eyes, and yours crinkled at the edges with some secret knowledge.

By the end of it, all he could think about was how he didn’t mind the conversation and that his first name even sounded a little nice coming out of your mouth.

You shimmer in the passenger side until your hair hangs a little longer. His brown leather jacket is around your shoulders. A stretch of your arms. A stretch of your lips. Months passed and Rogers befell the man you knew during the Manhattan Crisis while he became Steve.

Steve on missions and in the field—On your six, Steve! Keep up, old boy. Steve at the tower and Steve in the gym— don’t touch my weights, Steve, you’ll throw your back out.

Steve getting the door and pouring the whiskey and letting you wear his jacket when you were cold. Finding you across rooms at parties because there was an easiness to your presence that calmed the crowd. Shooting pool and watching movies. Up late and out late and laughing until the early hours.

He was Steve, your friend, because he finally allowed himself to have a friend.

You change. Shimmer again until your hair is pulled back from your swollen face. A hospital gown crinkled around your shoulders. Asleep, cold. Too close to death, too close to him. He couldn’t even sit by your bedside, only standing by the door, shuffling from one wall to the other and watched the monitors with a too-loud and static-filled brain.

He was hesitantly Steve when you stepped too close to him on the balcony nights later, hand precariously hovering over that fragile boy heart, finally pressing down on it, feeling his delicate pulse thawing and crawling towards you. Tipsy smile and you tasted like whiskey and easy joy.

The kiss was clumsy, like you’d said. Vulnerability threw him back to the 40’s, all gangly limbed and ill, his lungs malfunctioning, his breath smothered in his mouth. He stumbled, but the banister held him up.

You didn’t mind that his knees felt boneless. You chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your still-bruised cheek abruptly burned down his throat—warm and smooth and cataclysmic until he caught sight of the way you winced as his hand cupped your tender face. Steve stepped back, then, and apologized for what he said should have never happened.

There was a small quiver from your shoulder before you quietly went back inside.

He cursed himself on the balcony. Cursed letting it all happen in the first place. Captain Rogers watched your retreating steps, burying the spark and the fire. And the boy must have cried in his ice-block coffin when he buried him again, too.

“Don’t look at me like that.” God, he’s going crazy. Poor night-vision and an addled brain causing him to scold an empty seat. “You stopped talking to me.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens the way it does when you’re too deep in his head and he can’t get you out. Days without hearing from you smeared together in careful steps of a cagey dance. Comments always presented as half-truths—riddles he struggled to deconstruct. Breadcrumbs never leaving enough of a trail to lead him anywhere. He wants the harness back. Wants back your confident hand.

“You could have said something.” Steve scoffs, because you always had something to say. “Anything. You could have said anything. We were—friends.”

And hell, doesn’t that sound stupid out loud? Maybe it’s best that he’s got nothing but infinity beyond the sedan’s glaring brights and a million thoughts of unsaid words. It’s all useless, anyway. Best that he can get it all out now, talking to your ghost. It keeps all his thoughts in his head and keeps him from yelling every time he sees you not-looking, not-smiling, not-talking to him.

Steve flicks the wipers on again. Shuts off the radio. Shuts off the navigation. Takes the car off cruise-control to give himself something to do. He’ll stop overnight, after all.

Suddenly then, in the distance, two glowing eyes greet him steadily. Measured paces, in a firm and crisp trajectory, growing closer and closer. Glaring and vivid, beating the monotonous grind of nighttime out of him. His pinky moves, and his high beams flip to low beams, white giving way to yellow and the glistening road signs and tree-shadows in the distance slowly diminish.

Bleached spectral glaring of leaves and road signs soften ochre and brown, indigo dark. For a fleeting moment, even Steve’s enhanced eyes feel half-blind again as he readjusts to the pitch-black night barely lit. The car coming toward him does the same, highs blinking low and they pass each other in quiet understanding. In blind trust on the dark road, dependent on each other’s good faith to see it through.

He thinks of Sarah Rogers in a tiny Brooklyn kitchen, floral wallpaper yellowed and peeling behind her. One hand on an apron-clad hip, cooking interrupted by her son stumbling in dripping blood down his shirt, her other hand clenched around a wet kitchen rag.

“Steven Grant Rogers! Oh—wretched! What else can I say,” she’d sigh as she pressed it to his nose, “You do whatever you please, anyhow. You just put this on your face—and don’t think it’ll get you out of doing the dishes, either.”

“But—” he’d attempt.

She’d put up her hand, “Lord have mercy on any young woman that’ll have you. May she have your poor mother’s patient heart.”

His ma always called him slow. A dolt through and through. Quick to temper, but laborious to do much else. Common sense always took its sweet time-- took the long path home to get to Steve Rogers. In seventy-odd years, he hasn’t changed.

Better than coincidence and better than poor meteorology. Serendipity. It’s the only way he can describe it.

Like finding a crumpled up twenty in his pocket—or in his case, a five—enough then for a week’s worth of meals. Like having that nightmare— the one right before the plane crashes and instead of going down with it, he wakes up. Like expecting to drive five hours through a storm and stopping overnight, but instead it’s clear and blue as far as he can see.

The rush, the relief, the deafening joy that shuts everything else up and out.

Sarah Rogers was right: he’d always been slow.

So he careens back onto the highway from the service road, steadying his foot on the pedal and flies about fifteen miles faster than the speed limit says he should. The car is vibrating to a thrilled beat inside his chest. Steve can’t help smiling.

It was supposed to rain. All the way to the next mid-morning but the sky parts a brilliant orange sunrise and he nearly sprints to the door. He doesn’t wait for it to open all the way before he barrels in. A sliver of parting wood is enough, and Steve throws it wide with his enormous shoulders, kicking it shut firmly with his boot.

The imprint of your body on the couch is still warm—you, halfway across the room in alarm—real and even warmer when Steve gathers you into his arms. He’s been awake for over 24 hours, talking to himself, talking to your hallucination, so he apologizes when his teeth click against yours in a frantic kiss.

“Rogers--!”

You pull away, dazed, a little bit pissed off, but you cow the swirl of emotions into professionalism. “What are you—you’re not supposed to be here until late—did you drive through--”

“Steve,” he interrupts, “Steve.”

He’s so tired of the long road. Can’t stand another second of maneuvering in the dark down winding paths or broken streetlight avenues you’re not at the end of so he keeps his next phrase short: “I really like you.”

You raise your brow and brush the back of your knuckles over your lips, the light from the balcony streaming over your face. His hand tenderly brushes your cheek, the same one he touched all those months ago and you blink in surprise. Quick, calculating movements even as you lean gently into his touch.

“Steve…” you say slowly before your mouth pinches together in a poor attempt to hide the smirk threatening to surface. “You drove all night to… ask me to call you Steve.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “And the mission.”

“Right, the mission. The debrief didn’t mention that it required a lot of… kissing.”

“It came up recently; I haven’t adjusted the file yet.” He grins at your rolling eyes, your swollen lips peeling back to reveal a joyful display of teeth at his stubborn defiance.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble.

You place your hand over his chest, over his heart.

You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you’re not letting go, and he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it paints him in the most galvanized care. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut, like he’s being laid to rest. And maybe he is. Finally weary of lugging around all his armor, all his pretense.

The boy emerges, thawing toward his name held sweetly in your mouth.

He fumbles with his awkward limbs—a newly birthed foal trying to find its footing—but you’re patient and enduring. He takes in his trembling body—knobby knees and gangly elbows. Inept gait still learning how to be. He takes the sights—white casting over the balcony. You, even brighter.

It was supposed to rain, but you link your fingers through his, leading him toward the open doors, smiling against a backdrop of sherbet swirls. He stumbles, but you’ve got him. A few short steps, just a few more, and Steve kisses you again in the sunbathed daybreak, resurrected and anew.

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #reader insert #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers imagines #fluff #angst

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pastafossa · 2 years

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Flufftober 2021, Day 28 - Soothing Bath

You can track my progress here on my Flufftober list, and you can find the official flufftober tumblr here!

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Rating: SFW Wordcount: 1,359 Warnings: brief bit of nudity described vaguely, and some kissing, but pretty tame all things considered.

“Din, there’s no one else here.”

He continued to circle, cagey and restless, his helmet turned out towards the distant horizon. You folded your arms and set them on the stone lip of the hot spring, raising your brows at him. It wasn’t every day you were lucky enough that a quarry camped out on a planet low in population and covered in hot springs. You’d been the first to advocate taking advantage of it now that the target was in carbonite and the coast was clear.

You tried to tempt him again. “You scanned with the Crest. No one’s around.”

Din grunted, the modulated sound somehow still suspicious, reluctant. But he also had that stiffness in his walk that told you his back was hurting him something fierce, and no amount of sonic showers would work that ache free, especially considering just how much beskar he walked around in on a daily basis. He’d shown you his face, so you knew that you weren’t the issue—it was others he was wary of, someone who might stumble upon this little oasis, despite it being out in the middle of nowhere and a good hour by flight from anywhere close to populated. You understood that, and normally you’d have left him be. But dammit, he deserved to be able to dip down and soak his poor, aching back after the way he’d been bashed around this week.

“I could close my eyes,” you offered.

He slowly turned to face you, managing to look sarcastic even in his expressionless helmet. Maybe it was the disbelieving tilt of the helmet or the hands on his hips, but sometimes you just knew. There was an arched brow under that helmet, that was a starsdamned fact. Din Djarin was at least fifty-percent sarcasm beneath all that beskar.

“You could just jump in,” you tried again. “Heat might still come through the armor.”

He continued to stare, then said, bluntly, “I sink.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, drumming your fingers against the warm stone. “You could leave the helmet on then, maybe? And only take off the rest of it. Come on, I felt the knots in your back last week, and I know they’ve only gotten worse. I know my massages are amazing but they’re not a substitute for this.”

He tipped his head up to consider the hot spring again. It wasn’t all that huge, maybe twenty paces from one side to the other, just deep enough in the center that you could fully submerge, but it was clean and untouched, the water the perfect temperature for soaking. You and him both knew it was better than anything he could get from the Crest.

One last try.

“I’m naked, too,” you sang, tapping your bare shoulder in emphasis. “Have I mentioned that? Just… so naked in here.”

He turned back to you, the helmet tipping slowly down to consider you… and your body under the water.

Come on, Din.

There was a long silence, and you were about ready to give up when he grunted in agreement. “Alright. But be ready to jump out if someone comes.”

You saluted him gleefully as he began to strip himself of his armor, each piece set down carefully and reverently against the stone. Despite your pushing, you understood why he was reluctant. It wasn’t just about not letting people see him—it was also about just how long it took to take off or put on all that armor, a time in which he was decidedly vulnerable, exposed. For someone who’d spent most of his life in his armor, this was not something to be done lightly. But you had confidence in him, and in the Crest’s scans of the area. It was safe for the time being, and you could take a while to to enjoy yourselves. Which was why you took a long, dangerously delicious moment to admire him as he crept closer to the hot springs, his helmet still on but everywhere else delightfully bare.

“You’re staring,” he said dryly, a soft huff of laughter whispering through the vocoder. The sound was far more comfortable, more natural now than it had been when you’d first met him, when a laugh was something unpracticed, rough and unfamiliar, as if his vocal cords were learning the shape of something altogether new. You liked to think you’d helped with that over the months you’d been with him.

“Yes, I am, and I’m staring at something beautiful, in my opinion,” you announced firmly, flicking water at him and watching how the droplets clung before rolling downwards.

“Just a body. Does what it needs to.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” you said, as he sank with a loud groan into the hot water, all the way up to his neck. “Thoughts?”

He made a noise so guttural it morphed into a burst of static through the modulator—one part having the air knocked out of him, one part pain, and one part orgasmic. You snorted in amusement as he stretched out, trying to get comfortable. “Din, just take the helmet off and come over here.”

“Why over there?”

Stars, he looked like he was melting, his helmeted head beginning to roll back. “Because for one thing, if you melt I need to hold you up.” That got you a scoff, but you ignored it and continued, “I also happened to find a nice little outcropping that’s working like a seat. And the helmet can come off because I figure if you sit in front of me and put your head back on my shoulder, you’ll be comfortable.”

“Hm.”

“Have I mentioned already that I’m naked?”

“May have,” he huffed another soft laugh, making his way towards you. Then he stood, looming up over you for a moment. And Stars, you loved the shape of him, especially this close—that bit of softness around the middle, the rest of him so very muscled and broad, scarred and rough and wonderful. You kissed the curve of his abdomen fondly, kissed at scars and a dusting of hair, nipped affectionately at softness and skin as he grunted, setting the helmet down behind you where he’d be able to easily reach it if he needed to. His muscles jumped under your ministrations, a shiver running through him. “Watch it, Cyar'ika.”

“I am.” You kissed him again, kissed at skin that slowly disappeared beneath the water as he slid back down. He caught you briefly against the back of the hot spring, humming as he pressed his mouth warmly to yours, nudging soft affection against your lips. You kissed him back just as fondly, tangling your fingers in damp, dark hair, breathing the scent of him in. He’d probably have been happy to stay there, kiss you for hours if you’d let him, but that wasn’t what he needed at the moment.

You tapped him lightly and he grumbled before pulling away and turning around. He was clearly trying to be careful as he settled on the edge of the little outcropping you were seated on, wary of just collapsing back on top of you. You rolled your eyes and wound your arms around him, yanking him back until his back was pressed to your front, all scarred skin and roiling water. As he finally settled in, dropping his head back against your shoulder with a sigh, you wormed a hand between his back and your front, digging your knuckles into the knots in his back until they began to unravel. Between the hot water and the pressure of your hands, any plans he’d had not to turn into a puddle were hopeless. He practically went liquid in your arms, body going pliant and slack. He turned his head clumsily, nuzzling your neck as he groaned.

“Told you,” you murmured.

“Stars, quarry should hide here more often.”

-x-

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#flufftober2021 #Din Djarin x Reader #Mando x Reader #Din Djarin #Mando #The Mandalorian #Reader #Fic #Imagine #Fluff #SFW #Din Djarin's back just hurts ok this is basically canon idc if they never said it #Din Djarin deserves hot baths for bad backs 2021 #also he has a soft belly fight me

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