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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words.

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case.

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look.

“Carmen,” you warn him.

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair.

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that).

You’re right. And he knows you’re right.

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways.

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist.

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours.

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.”

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?”

You shake your head with a laugh.

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.”

A beat.

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze.

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap.

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend.

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced.

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes.

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution.

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement.

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear.

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you.

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together.

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.

You know him too well.

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house.

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest.

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin.

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time.

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways.

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize.

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.”

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh.

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

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

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself.

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man.

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake.

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change.

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag.

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug.

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze.

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him.

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about.

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head.

“I don’t,” he answers plainly.

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy.

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.”

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos.

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day.

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love.

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look.

“Okay, fine. I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily.

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence.

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself.

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table.

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law.

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing.

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room.

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips.

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service.

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about.

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part.

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo.

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with.

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one.

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision.

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right.

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time.

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?”

He laughs, glancing sideways at you.

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it.

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up.

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again.

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug.

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull.

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long.

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you.

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever.

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” you reassure him.

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time:

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing.

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was.

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus.

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time.

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice.

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #dont want to walk alone

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bookworm551 · 8 months

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Take the Edge Off | Part 7 | The Bet (2/2)

After losing your bet against Miguel, it’s time for you to pay up.

A/N: alrighty y’all, this is almost entirely smut. Full disclosure, I don’t do BDSM, so I wrote what I was comfortable with. Also, this is like the longest chapter I’ve ever written for anything, so you can see why I broke it up into parts and why it took me so long to finish. Still, I had fun with it :) also, miguel is soooo Lana coded <3

Warnings: smut, temperature play, spanking, handcuffing, sight deprivation, oral f-receiving, orgasm denial/edging, knife play if you squint, and the nastiest of them all—fluff

Word count: 7.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

When you emerged from the portal, you were surprised to find yourself standing in a large room. It was similar to your own little apartment you had here on Earth-928, but this was much larger with full-size windows overlooking Nueva York. Despite its size, the apartment was scarcely furnished. There was a large bed on one wall, neatly made, and minimal furniture in the space. It seemed barely lived in, which you were sure was the case given how much Miguel worked.

"What a view," you commented as you stepped towards the large windows that displayed the city below. It was an impressive sight, the bustling vehicles in the air and on the ground zooming around almost like bees in a hive. It was like the people of Earth-57218 but with less beauty and more technology. You could feel Miguel's presence right behind you, and he took a second to watch the busy lives of the people below with you.

You were reminded of your thoughts from earlier that evening about living a normal life. Would he ever have thoughts like that, too? Would he ever think of you the way you thought of him?

Finally, he lifted a hand to the glass and gently tapped it twice with his finger. The glass immediately darkened, cutting off much of the natural light that had been flooding in before. "Don't get distracted," he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your neck. "You lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, and you couldn't tell if you were nervous or excited at the prospect of him doing "whatever he wanted" to you.

"Well, I don't get paid until next Friday, so I can get you your money then," you joked, halfway turning to face him. When you looked up at his face, your heart sped up by the hungry look in his eyes. "Money is useless to me," he muttered. "You have what I want right now."

You wanted to reply that money wasn't useless to you, but when he snaked his arm around your torso and pressed his lips to your neck, he stole all the snark out of you. His body leaned forward against your own, and he bent over and lifted you up bridal style.

You chuckled lightly. "This is romantic," you commented as he walked you over to his bed. He set you down gently, and the bed sagged down as he hovered over you. "I would hardly describe what I'm about to do as romantic," he murmured, his eyes alight with lust.

You felt that same flutter of anticipation in your stomach again. "And what are you going to do?" You asked breathlessly. His eyes studied your face with a subtle smirk growing on his lips. "That's for you to find out," he told you smugly. "Why would I spoil the fun?"

You huffed in annoyance at his secrecy. In truth, you were nervous for what he may do to you. Was he going to hurt you? Was he going to leave you covered in marks? What sort of dark fantasies did Miguel O'Hara have hidden away?

He must have been able to read your apprehension on your face because his eyes softened slightly. "I want you to listen very closely," he said. "I'm going to do what I want, but you get to tell me where the line is, okay? That's all you have to say."

You blinked up at him. "Line?" You repeated softly. He nodded and confirmed, "Line." Your heart was racing now in anticipation. Safe words were new for you two, and you wondered how far he wanted to go. Still, it gave you a measure of comfort that he would ultimately defer to what you were willing to do.

He waited for you to respond, so you nodded your understanding at him. A faint grin pulled at his lips before he pressed them onto your own with a kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and you gave a soft moan as he kissed you passionately.

His hands wandered down your arms to your wrists, and he gently removed your web shooters, causing your suit to disappear from your body. You were left laying in his bed in only your bra and underwear. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he stared down at your mostly-naked figure under him.

"Do you remember our first time together?" He asked softly as he ran his hands up your stomach slowly and reached under your back. You arched your body to allow him to unhook your bra while replying with a smirk, "How could I not?" The image of him tied up and begging was forever seared in your mind, and you often thought of it late at night with your hand between your legs.

"Do you remember what I told you then?" He continued as he tossed aside your garment and began palming your breasts with his large hands. Your eyes were closed now in response to his sensual touch, and it made it difficult for you to focus on his question. "No," you admitted softly, shifting your hips to search for some relief from him.

Miguel hummed in mock disappointment, and his hands wandered up from your breasts to lift your arms up over your head. With one hand, he pinned your wrists to the pillow, and you suddenly remembered what he was talking about. I'll get you for this. You also remembered what he had said another time. Payback would be tying you up nice and pretty for me.

Your heart sped up as you realized it was finally time for you to face the music. Miguel saw the realization dawn on your face. "I think you remember," he murmured smugly. You took a shaky breath before nodding slowly. There was a sly grin that grew on Miguel's face.

With one hand still pinning your wrists to the bed, he kissed you. When he broke away from your lips, he whispered, "You know what I'm gonna do, don't you?" Eyes blinking open, you nodded your head without a word. Miguel's eyes danced with lustful intentions, and he continued, "And you're going to let me do it, aren't you?"

One of your eyebrows raised skeptically at him. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" You countered. An amused smirk grew on his lips as he stared down at you. "No," he answered. "No, you don't."

With that, he shot a web at his headboard and slowly, meticulously, he bound your wrists together, leaving you with about a foot of webbing between them and the headboard. You gave an experimental tug on the webbing that restricted your hands and found that he had securely tied your hands, leaving no room for them to pull or move. Your heart was pounding with the thrill of being completely at his mercy. You didn't think Miguel would actually hurt you, but the endless possibilities of things he could do to you made your breathing quicken.

When he was satisfied with his rigging, he leaned back to admire the sight of your body with your hands stretched above your head. "You look even prettier than I imagined like this," he muttered with a self-satisfied smirk. His words made your face glow with a faint blush, and you thought of something to say that would distract you from the warmth you felt at his praise.

"Aww, you think of me when I'm not around?" You asked in an overly-sweet tone, looking up at him through your lashes. Miguel's eyes darkened with desire, and he let out an amused huff. "I think of all the things I could do to shut you up," he said, sitting up and stepping off the bed. Your eyes followed him as he crossed the room.

"Or all the things I could do to make you scream," he continued casually, approaching a door you assumed was his closet. "Or make you beg." He opened the door, and though you strained to see, the door blocked your view from what was inside.

When he finally closed the door, you noticed the silk tie in his hands. You wondered for a split second what it was for, but as he walked back toward you, it suddenly became clear. Crawling back onto the bed, Miguel gave you one final, smug look before gently placing the tie over your eyes and tying it securely behind your head.

"So many things to do," he mused quietly in your ear. "But I think we'll start here." He placed a brief kiss on your lips before slowly trailing down your body. You shivered at his touch, and being deprived of your sight made every kiss feel electric. Reaching for your breasts, he took one in his mouth, running his tongue over your nipple while his hands squeezed your tender skin greedily.

"Fuck," you whispered softly. Your back was arching off the mattress to press into his hands and mouth. His mouth moved lower to your stomach until he reached your underwear. He slowly removed the fabric from your waist, placing kisses down the inside of your thighs as he moved it down your legs. You groaned softly, shifting your legs to try and capture his head and failing. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him.

Just when you thought he was going to move back up to continue feeling your body, you felt his weight lift off the mattress. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to determine what he was doing. Without your sight, you focused heavily on any sounds you could pick up, but Miguel was frustratingly quiet.

"I hope you're not planning on just leaving me here," you commented, desperate to break your anxious silence. Your little quip earned you a small huff, and you determined he was somewhere on the other side of the apartment. You also heard the sound of something opening, and you knew he was retrieving things, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

You wished your premonitory senses would activate to warn you about what he was doing, but your body seemed to know you weren't in any actual danger, so you were left to guess. Your heart leapt as you felt the mattress sag back down with his weight again. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel that he was kneeling next to you.

"Why would I leave you here?" He wondered thoughtfully, and you could hear the undercurrent of lust in his tone. "I have you right where I want you, and you're not leaving until I'm done with you." You shifted on the bed, eagerly anticipating when he was going to touch you again. To break the tension that settled between you, you joked, "Careful O'Hara, your mouth is writing checks your body better be able—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp when you felt something painfully cold press against your nipples. You strained against your bindings to escape the freezing sensation, and after a few seconds, you felt the cold trail in small circles around your breasts before disappearing again, leaving you gasping.

Feeling the wet chill on your skin, you realized Miguel was using ice. "What were you saying?" He asked smugly as you recovered from the cold. You wanted to say something snappy, but you were at a loss for witty words. "Nothing?" He questioned and blew gently against your wet skin, causing you to shudder. Before you could answer him, the cold returned to your nipples, and you thrashed with a loud groan.

Miguel kept the ice against your skin even longer before lifting them off again. This time, he ran his tongue over one of your hardened nipples, and you groaned again at the feeling of his warm mouth against your cold skin. "What pretty noises," he murmured when he moved to your other breast. Your chest was heaving, and your skin was covered in goosebumps from both the ice and his touch.

After a few moments, Miguel lifted himself up off your body. Your hearing was strained as you tried to discern what he was going to do next, but Miguel didn't seem so interested in talking anymore. You tried shifting your legs to subtly feel for him, but he wasn't within reach of you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder where he was, a cube of ice was placed onto your chest just below your throat. Your breath trembled as it slowly melted down your skin, between your breasts, and toward your navel. You jumped when you felt Miguel's cool hands on your thighs, and he slowly wrapped his arms around them.

He had done that enough times for you to know what he was going to do next. Your pussy ached for his mouth while your stomach was tensing with the cold trail of the ice. Miguel placed a few light kisses to your thighs before his lips finally moved to where you wanted them.

You cried in alarm when you realized that Miguel had a small piece of ice on his tongue, and with his mouth vigorously eating you out and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, you had no escape from the freezing temperature against your clit. "Mmm, fuck!" You cried out as your body writhed in an effort to escape the cold pressing against your hot entrance.

The extreme cold was deliciously torturous as the ice melted against your pussy and his mouth. When the ice disappeared, Miguel continued eating you out fervently, and you were vaguely aware of the feeling of his webbing digging into your straining wrists. Your startled cries evolved into moans as warmth returned to his mouth and your clit, and his tongue was moving expertly in a way that was making your thighs twitch under his strong hands.

"Oh god, Miguel," you gasped, feeling a tightness form in your core that made you desperate for your release. Miguel moaned against you, the deep bass of his voice sending vibrations against your clit. You wanted nothing more that to wrap your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but the webs at your wrists were still restricting you as well as his strong arms around your thighs.

You breathing turned into panting whines, and you were about to cum when Miguel lifted his mouth off of you. A desperate groan tore from your throat as you tried fighting against his hands to capture his head with your legs to no avail.

"Not yet, cariño," he murmured, sounding slightly winded. "I still have more for you." You could hear the smile that you were sure he was wearing while his body lifted up off the bed. You squeezed your legs together in an effort to give yourself some relief, but it was pointless. Nothing you did could replicate the feeling of his tongue.

Again, you focused hard on trying to figure out where Miguel was and what he was doing. "Are you trying to hide from me?" You asked in hopes of figuring out where he was. You were surprised to hear his amused chuckle right beside you. "I'm not hiding," he told you. "But I love watching you try to find me. You get so restless waiting for me."

Your skin jumped as he brushed his fingers across your stomach, and you could all but see the smug look on his face. "You have no idea what I could do to you," he continued quietly, and you gasped softly when you felt the sharp point of one of his claws trace over your tender skin. He let his claw wander up your stomach all the way to the hollow of your throat before pulling away again.

Your chest was heaving in anticipation for what he would do next. The throbbing between your legs was almost painful, and you were desperate for him to touch you again. You tried pulling your hands down again in vain and felt frustration course through your body at not being able to move.

Just when your anticipation was getting to be too much for you, Miguel came back onto the bed. You could feel his weight settled between your legs, and when you shifted them, you were pleased to feel his thighs between your own. Your lips were parted as you waited for him, your breathing quickened.

A warm, almost hot, liquid poured over your stomach, causing your back to arch and a gasping moan to emerge from your mouth. The heat contrasted so sharply with the chill of the ice that had melted on your skin that it made your body shiver involuntarily. Miguel chuckled darkly at your reaction, pouring more of the hot liquid over your nipples, causing another moan to escape your throat.

The heat felt good once the initial shock subsided, and so when it started to drip down your stomach and off your sides, you sighed in satisfaction. Miguel took a hand and ran it across your body, spreading the oily substance all across your torso. You pushed your body into his hand to encourage him. His other hand also started rubbing the oil across your skin, slowly digging his fingers into the tissue around your hips, up your sides, to your breasts, and around your shoulders.

You moaned at how good it all felt. Being Spider-woman was definitely a harsh and physically demanding job, and you were almost always in some type of pain as a result of it. Your muscles were always tight and your skin always bruised. Now, laying there while Miguel slowly massaged your body with warm oil, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You wondered softly. Miguel hummed in response. "Do you like this?" He asked quietly, his voice soft and deep. You nodded, your voice useless as his fingers reached under your back and massaged the muscles there.

Every movement was slow and intentional, and in that moment, you could've convinced yourself that this was more than just fucking, more than just losing a bet. You wanted to believe that so badly, but that was dangerous thinking. Still, when he kissed your neck while massaging your back with warm oil, you let yourself savor the intimacy of it all.

His hands moved down to your hips and then to your ass, his fingers digging deep into the muscle. You sighed deeply as you lifted your thighs to encourage him. He ran his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up again on the inside. Your breath shuddered as he slowly pushed your legs up, and you wrapped them around his waist, desperate for him to be inside you. "I know, babygirl," he chuckled. "Not yet."

You groaned in frustration. The ache you had for him was almost painful. "Please," you whimpered softly, the desire to feel him stretch you out making you desperate. Miguel hummed thoughtfully, his hands roaming over the skin of your thighs. "I do like it when you say please," he conceded. "Say it again."

You sighed in exasperation. Of course he was going to drag this out. You squeezed your legs around him tighter to bring him closer, and a thrill ran through your body when you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, making you groan in anticipation.

A sharp sting on your ass startled you and made you yelp in surprise. It took a second for you to realize that he had actually spanked you. It sounded more painful that it was, but being deprived of your sight meant that your sense of touch was heightened, and you definitely hadn't expected him to do that.

"I told you not yet," he chastised you sternly. "Now, say it again." Your heart was hammering in your heaving chest. "P-please," you stuttered, trying to think straight. You wished you could see his face or feel his body. It was driving you crazy letting him tease you like this.

"Much better," Miguel murmured softly, rubbing his hand over the spot he had smacked. He teased his length against your hot entrance, causing your breath to hitch and your legs to tighten around him. Seeing your reaction, he moved away again, and you groaned, pressing your head back into your pillow in frustration.

"You're so needy," he said. "Why should I give it to you?" You shifted restlessly under him. Why was he torturing you like this? "Please," you repeated, trying your best to hide the desperation in your voice, "I need you to fuck me."

Miguel hummed in an almost disinterested manner. Clearly, he wanted to hear more. "Because you're the only one who can do it right," you answered breathlessly, raising your leg to brush against the side of his body. "You're the only one I want, Miguel, so please, fuck me." Miguel cursed under his breath. You knew hearing his name would soften his resolve, and you bit your lip in anticipation for what he would do next.

When you felt him tease the head of his cock against your entrance, you sighed softly and had to fight the urge to try pulling him in with your legs again. Instead, you waited with baited breath for him to push into you. As you waited, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe, the mattress sagged down around you as you felt Miguel lean over and hover inches above your body.

"Breathe, baby," he purred in your ear, smugness evident in his voice. The way he spoke was sinful, and you struggled to listen to his instruction. With effort, you managed to take a deep, shaky breath. Miguel placed a gentle kiss under your jaw and murmured, "There's my good girl."

With your second breath, he pushed into you. The air caught in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you out. How did he feel so good every time? Your head pushed back against the mattress as his hips came flush against yours. Your pussy caused Miguel to groan softly, too. "You always take me so well," he commented smugly.

His thrust were slow, tantalizingly slow, and you strained against your bindings as your arms instinctively longed to wrap themselves around his shoulders. "Mmm, shit," you moaned. "You feel so good." Your words made him increase his pace marginally, but it was clear that he was holding back.

You could tell that he had one hand planted next to your body to support himself while the other wandered down between your breasts to your stomach. "Do you feel me here?" He asked as his hand gently pressed down on your lower stomach, right above where his cock was moving in and out of you.

Pornographic sounds poured from your lips from the pressure he was placing. His hand was pressing down against your G-spot from outside your body, and as he moved his hand in small circles, the pleasure it brought you made your hands strain against their binding.

Miguel, too, was enjoying the pressure he added. He was grunting quietly at the feeling of your pussy squeezed around him, and it wasn't long before he picked up the pace and began moving in you at a quickened tempo. His hand came off your stomach as he started thrusting into you faster, and instead, he wrapped his strong arm under your lower back, forcing your body to arch off the bed.

A long whine rose up from your mouth as he railed into you. He was holding you at an angle that made his dick hit just right inside you. You couldn't even breathe properly from the blissful feeling his cock deep inside you. Under your blindfold, your eyes were rolling back into your head, and your legs spread even further apart to allow him to completely bury himself in you.

Your name was falling from Miguel's lips in between quiet curses. Evidently, he was enjoying himself as much as you were, and you could feel how his whole body was consumed with pleasure above you. Having to rely primarily on your hearing for clues, you were more than pleased by the grunts and moans he was making.

With your back still arched from Miguel's arm, it wasn't long before you felt the tightness in your stomach start to form again. Your thighs started to quiver, and your breathing became ragged as you prepared to be overtaken with pleasure, but just when you were reaching your tipping point, Miguel pulled completely out of you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan at the loss of his cock inside you. Denying you of your orgasm again felt cruel, and you squeezed your thighs together to try and give yourself some relief as you had before to no avail. "Please, Miguel," you whined, begged. "Don't stop."

You felt the weight of the bed shift around you as he moved back. "Not yet, babygirl," he told you, sounding out of breath. You wondered if he had been close to finishing, too, but before you could ponder any further, Miguel's hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over like you weighed nothing.

With a gasp, you found yourself lying on your stomach. You understood now why he had tied your wrists the way he had. With the length of webbing between your hands and the headboard, you were able to turn over and support yourself on your knees and elbows without any uncomfortable twisting. Now, you were positioned on your stomach, and Miguel's commanding hands propped you up on your knees with your ass up to him.

You felt his hand glide across your back, his palm still slick with oil. "I've been wanting to see you like this for a long time now," Miguel commented under his breath. "You look so fucking perfect on your knees." You let out a short huff at his words. "Are you just going to stare, or are you going to do something about it?" You asked impatiently, still frustrated at being denied your pleasure.

A sharp pain stung your ass as he slapped you in punishment, forcing a gasp from you. "Watch your tone," he told you in a warning voice. You took a shaky breath before nodding submissively. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest in reaction to him spanking you as well as in anticipation of what he may do next.

Juxtaposing the pain he had just inflicted, Miguel placed slow, deliberate kisses up your back starting from the base of your spine. You moaned softly as his lips trailed up your body, seeming to press a kiss over each vertebra. As his mouth moved up your back, his hands roamed up the sides of your body, gripping at your soft skin.

Your breath hitched as each kiss served as a countdown to him being back inside you. His lips wandered up between your shoulders to your neck as his hands gripped your breasts under you. At that point, you were so desperate for him that you arched your back and pushed your ass back toward his hips with a quiet groan.

"Use your words," he prompted in a low voice, and his lips tickled your ear as he whispered to you. You whimpered softly before replying, "More." You could feel how his whole body was hunched over yours, and you could only imagine how his muscular torso looked as it enveloped your frame.

"Mmm, you can do better than that," he stated, and he nipped at your earlobe while teasing his cock against you. You whined and tugged at your bindings again, wishing for the millionth time that you could move freely. "Please, Miguel," you groaned, "I need you to fuck me."

You had almost expected him to drag it out like he had done so many times before, but perhaps hearing you say his name satisfied him, or perhaps he was just as eager to continue what he had so abruptly interrupted. Either way, he didn't require any more begs and pleads before slamming his cock deep into you.

Cries of pleasure tore from your throat as Miguel began pounding into you mercilessly. Your salacious sounds intermingled with the wet smacking of his hips against your ass as he thrust in and out, over and over, into your aching cunt. Miguel growled at the sensation of repeatedly burying his length inside you, and you could hear him grunting under his breath, "Fuck, just like that."

You buried your face in the bedding under you to muffle all the sounds you were making. Arching your back, you pushed your ass up as far as you could, and the feeling of him railing you like that overtook any coherent thought you may have had. You felt Miguel's oily hands grabbing at your waist harshly as he tried keeping a grip on your body.

Suddenly, you felt his claws dig into your hips sharply. You gasped and clenched your teeth at the painful sensation. It was different from his fangs, which still had some degree of pain. This was pain in the most sensitive parts of your waist adjacent to your stomach, and it outweighed the pleasure you were feeling instead of enhancing it.

You hissed sharply in reaction. For a moment, you struggled to remember what he had told you at the beginning. Finally, you uttered, "Line," so quietly that you wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't heard you, but he did.

Immediately, you felt the sharp sting of his claws retract from your torso, and he grew still before pulling out of you. "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, and you could hear the notes of concern in his voice. His hands rubbed up your back gently, and you nodded, trying to regain your breath to explain. "It just hurt a little more than I like," you admitted finally.

Gently, he turned you over onto your back again to assess you while his fingers lightly massaged your waist where he had pricked your skin. He placed his lips against your stomach and murmured, "I didn't mean to. You just feel so good." He placed another kiss to your skin before saying, "We can stop."

You quickly shook your head. "No, don't stop," you rushed. "Just...no claws." His fingers continued massaging over the scratches on your skin. "I won't," he promised. "I'm going to make you feel good."

His kisses trailed down slowly from your stomach, and your breath hitched as his lips traced over your sensitive skin. As he kissed you, he inserted 3 fingers into you, earning a soft moan. He moved slowly at first, working to rebuild your trust in him by curling his fingers inside you with a deliberate slowness. As more moans sounded in your throat, he increased the speed of his fingers and lowered his mouth down right above them.

All the echos of pain from his claws were banished by the pleasure his tongue brought you as it lapped at your swollen clit. Your whole body tensed as his hands and mouth worked together in an apology that spoke louder than any combination of words he could say. He told you he was going to make you feel good, and he was clearly telling the truth.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as your hips moved of their own accord to increase the pressure of his mouth. You wished desperately that you could see him, see how his dark eyes were looking up at you lustfully, see how his muscles were flexing as he moved his fingers in and out of you rapidly. Instead, you had to rely on a combination of your memory and your imagination to recreate the image.

As you started to grow closer to finishing, you tried to suppress any indication that you were about to cum so that Miguel wouldn't keep denying it to you. You tried swallowing your noises, but you couldn't help the way your breathing started to come in short gasps as you felt the familiar tightness forming.

Sure enough, when Miguel heard your tell-tale panting, his fingers stopped moving, and he lifted his mouth off of you. A long, frustrated whine tore from your throat as he pulled his fingers out of you. "I know, love," he murmured, sounding out of breath. "Wait for me."

The mattress shifted as he moved himself up, and before you could make another complaint about his teasing, he pushed his cock back into you. Your whines turned to moans as he started moving inside you, and he snaked his arm under your lower back again and lifted your torso into an arch. He pounded away into you, and at that angle, his length hit your G-spot every time.

You couldn't speak as all the air had been snatched from your lungs. The best you could do was make quiet, strangled moans as pleasure overtook every other feeling in your body. Though your eyes were still blindfolded, you were seeing stars, and above you, you could hear the grunts that Miguel made with every thrust.

With the angle he was holding you at, it wasn't long before that tightness returned. Your thighs started to quiver as your breathing grew shallow again. "Don't stop," you pleaded desperately between ragged breaths. He didn't respond, but he also didn't stop. His own breaths came in quick pants, and you heard the sound of splintering wood above your head which you realized was his claws digging into the headboard.

Finally, you hit your breaking point. All of Miguel's edging paid off because your legs began shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You were practically screaming as you came hard around him, every nerve in your body ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of what you were feeling was indescribable. You couldn't even feel how the bindings around your wrists were cutting into your skin as you writhed under him; there was only complete and utter pleasure.

Miguel groaned loudly at how you tightened around his cock, and with a few more quick, desperate thrusts, he was gasping your name as he came inside you. Your quivering legs wrapped tightly around his torso as you continued riding your high while his muscles tensed in pleasure. Together, your bodies were both shuddering, and your minds were both clouded with overwhelming bliss.

As the haze of your orgasm finally began to lift, you registered the sounds of your heavy breathing along with Miguel's. There was also the sound of more splintering wood as he withdrew his claws from the headboard above you. His head rested on your shoulder as he recovered from his high, his hot breath fanning against your skin. Your legs fell away from his waist as your body went limp. Neither of you moved for a few moments as you took them to remember how to speak again.

Finally, with a short grunt, Miguel pulled out of you, earning a quiet whine from you. You felt empty without him, and as he pushed himself off your body, you felt exposed, unprotected. You hated it.

To your tremendous relief, however, he cut away the bindings around your wrists and lifted the blindfold from your eyes. Your arms ached from all the times you tried pulling them down, and you groaned softly as you brought them down to your sides. Blinking your eyes opened, the scene around you looked blurry, but you could still make out Miguel's face hovering above you, some of his hair dangling over his dark eyes fixed intently on you.

You raised up one of your newly liberated hands to cup his cheek as you tried forcing your eyes to focus. He placed his hand over yours and pressed a soft kiss to your palm. "How do you feel?" He asked finally, breaking the long stretch of silence between you. He sounded exactly how you felt—spent.

You couldn't answer him; the ability to form words hadn't fully return to you. Instead, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him like it was the last time you could ever do it. His hand left yours to slide under your back and pull you closer as he kissed you with as much passion as you gave. Your arms were finally able to do what they had longed to do the whole time and wrapped themselves around his neck to hold him close.

You didn't want it to end, didn't want to pull away from him. This was more than just lust, at least it was for you. If he had asked you to stay with him in that bed forever, you weren't sure you would say no. It was a dangerous temptation.

After a moment, Miguel broke away from your lips. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked softly. You nodded your head, still not ready to use your voice. "Was it too much?" He questioned, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. You shook your head mutely, and his lips started to quirk upward at your silence.

"Can you use words?" He asked in amusement. Your lips pulled up to mirror his smirk, and you shook your head in reply. "That good?" He surmised with no small amount of pride. You rolled your eyes before nodding at him. In all honesty, it was the best you'd ever had. He was the best you'd ever had.

Your hand dropped from his face to rest on your stomach as you sighed deeply with closed eyes. Your body still hummed with the aftermath of your high, and you felt you didn't have the energy to do anything except lay there with him.

Miguel glanced down at your hand and carefully lifted it off your body to inspect it. Around your wrist were angry red markings from when you had fought against your bindings. They didn't even hurt really, but they didn't look pretty either.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmured softly as he traced his fingers over the skin of your wrists. You looked up at his face and realized that this was the first time you had ever heard him apologize about anything, and by his gentle voice and concerned face, you knew he was being sincere.

His eyes moved away from your hands to look at you, and you offered him a soft smile. "Payback," you whispered, finally breaking your own muteness. Your comment seemed to assuage the concern he had for accidentally hurting you, and a subtle smile formed on his lips. "Payback," he agreed.

You held his gaze for a moment, relishing the way his face softened at you. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin that gleamed in the dim light of his room. Neither of you said anything, you simply admired each other in silence while your bodies were still humming with pleasure.

"We should get cleaned up," he murmured finally. You closed your eyes with a quiet groan. "I don't want to move," you told him with a sigh. He smirked down at you before sitting up. "Come on," he said quietly as he moved his arms under your body.

You giggled as he picked you up and carried you out of bed the same way he took you to it. His skin was warm, and when you leaned your head against his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat in his chest.

He carried you like that into his bathroom before setting you down in front of the shower. It was extremely spacious with the shower head placed high above you. He turned on the water, and after a few moments, steam began filling the air, and you stepped under it together.

Neither of you spoke a word the whole time. You were still reeling from everything he had done to you, and Miguel didn't seem to mind the silence. There was something intimate about the two of you together, completely exposed for each other and yet not engaging in anything sexual.

Miguel had wordlessly offered you a wash cloth that you were now using to lather soap onto your body. As you washed away all the evidence of your activities together, you were replaying what just happened in your mind. Babygirl, cariño, love—all those nicknames he gave you in the heat of the moment echoed in your head. Did he ever mean them? Or did he just get swept away in all the sweat and hormones and say them?

You watched as he let the water run over his head, and you noticed all the scars that scattered across his back. It took all your willpower not to trace your fingers across his muscular shoulders. You loved seeing him with his guard down, and as he wiped away the water from face, you were reminded that he wasn't some untouchable deity like some of the other Spiders thought; he was just a man.

You weren't sure how long you were in there before Miguel finally turned the water off. You stood and waited while he retrieved two towels for you both. He ran his over his hair before tying it around his waist. Then, he came over and wrapped your towel around your body.

You were about to make a quiet joke about how you could do it yourself, but as he covered your body with the towel, he kept his arms wrapped around your form, his body engulfing yours as he pulled you against his chest. He held you like that for a few seconds, and the idea of you speaking in a moment like that felt irreverent.

Finally, he broke the silence between you by whispering, "You're staying here tonight?" It seemed like less of a question than an assumption, and you wondered if you had only imagined the hopeful tone in his voice. Wordlessly, you nodded. Of course you would stay the night. You would stay every night if you could.

He pulled away from your body after another second, allowing you to secure your towel around your torso. He left you alone in the bathroom as you continued drying yourself off, and when you came back out to his room, you found him under the covers with his eyes closed. You thought he was asleep for a moment, but as you approached the bed, his eyes blinked open to look at you.

Letting your towel fall away, you crawled into bed with him. Without a word, you gave Miguel a long, slow kiss before settling down next to him. Almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, you realized just how exhausted you were by your excursions together, and you felt yourself drifting off in no time.

You were brought back to consciousness when you heard him whisper your name. "Hmm?" You replied lazily, unsure of whether or not you imagined it in your dozing. Your eyes were still closed as you heard him sigh.

"You can come on the mission."

You were definitely imagining things now. Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, and you found him looking at your face expectantly. "What?" You questioned, unable to process what he had said.

"You can come on the mission with me," he repeated softly. You lifted your head up off the pillow as you understood what he was telling you. "But—but I lost the bet," you told him. His lips bore a faint smile at your reaction. "I told myself if you could make it to sundown, I'd let you come," he explained.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The complete surprise you felt at him completely eclipsed any sort of joy you would feel at being able to go on the mission. Finally, you asked, "Why?" He didn't respond for a moment, but when he did, he said, "You were right. You are one of the best."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Not only had Miguel O'Hara changed his mind, but he had admitted that you were right about something. Never in a million years would you have thought that even one of those statements would be true, let alone both.

"Don't get too excited," he warned, noticing your reaction to his words. "After this, no more missions with me. This is just the exception." A smile slowly grew on your face, the idea finally settling into your mind that you got to be on the coveted team to bring down the anomaly. "Because you need me," you asserted playfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes at you. "Don't push it," he grumbled, making you chuckle. "Okay, fine," you replied as you laid your head back down on the pillow, and after a beat of silence, you added with all the sincerity you possessed, "Thank you." You both stared at each other wordlessly for a moment until he said gently, "You're welcome."

With that, you closed your eyes again and let sleep finally overcome your body.

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manofworm · 1 year

Text

Pretty Boy

Pairing: Tech x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Prompt: *mumbled* "You look pretty." - "What?" - *panicked* "I said you look shitty"

Summary: Left alone on the Marauder with Tech, you accidentally let slip just how pretty you think he is. Not knowing your pining is mutual, you say something completely stupid, and end up telling him how you feel in an awkward, soft, and fluffy confession.

Note: This is the first fanfic that I'm posting, and I'm really proud of it. This is a part of the Clone Fic Gift Exchange and has been written for @melliejellybellybean. Hi Mellie! I don't know if this is what you had in mind for this prompt, but I really hope you like the way this turned out. :) @cloneficgiftexchange

The brief clatter of a wrench hitting the durasteel floor of the cockpit shook you from your thoughts, eyes darting back down to the datapad nestled in your lap. The holonovel it displayed had long since been abandoned in favor of staring out the window. Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, and Omega were currently wandering around the marketplace of a nearby village. They were searching for a specific – and seemingly elusive – tool that had been lost during the scramble to leave the planet they had been on for Cid’s last job. The mission had been going exactly as planned, until the very end when Omega scampered up the Marauder’s ramp, urging Tech to prepare for a quick takeoff. Before Tech had the chance to object or ask for clarification, the sound of distant blaster fire made its way into the ship, prompting him into action. You were the first to clamor up the ramp, grabbing onto the hatch’s frame and using it as leverage to kneel just inside the ship and level your blaster at the smugglers still chasing Wrecker, Echo, and Hunter. Wrecker was next inside, being the only one strong enough to carry the crate of maker-knows-what requested by Cid’s client. You had all been assured that it was not carrying any spice, and were led to believe it would be much smaller than it actually was. If it weren’t for the danger of the mission, the view from the Marauder would have been a comical sight. Wrecker was sprinting across the barren landscape surrounding the smugglers' hideout, cradling the impressively sized crate up against his chest. He looked almost as if he were carrying a small child (or his Lula), but with none of his usual gentleness. He was clearly agitated at not being allowed to participate in the fight itself, but was flanked by Echo and Hunter, who were fighting off the group of smugglers that had followed them. Most were armed with blasters, but a few of them carried decorated staffs and pitchforks, gesturing them somewhat menacingly at Wrecker as he ran with their crate back to the ship. With the help of your cover fire, Hunter and Echo were able to make it safely back aboard the Marauder just as she left the ground. At the last moment, however, one of the smugglers leapt up and grabbed onto the edge of the retracting ramp. Wrecker, eager to at least have hit something, grabbed the nearest object and lobbed it at the smuggler’s head. Successfully dislodging them, but accidentally throwing Tech’s nice screwdriver – the one whose grip he had modified to fit into his hand perfectly – clean off the ship just as the Marauder’s hatch closed.

This led to your current situation, left alone on the Marauder with Tech and lounging in the copilot's seat. The rest of the Batch, including Omega, had left about an hour earlier to scour the local trade market of the planet for Tech’s replacement screwdriver, not without Echo giving you a conspiratorial wink. Echo was the only member of the Batch privy to your infatuation with Tech, although you had no doubt that Hunter knew and decidedly left all of the teasing to Echo. The outing shouldn't have taken very long, but knowing how easily Wrecker and Omega can get distracted, you had a few more hours before any of them came back. A low sigh made you shift your focus to Tech, who was still hunched under the console working on the navigation system despite his borderline hatred for his backup screwdriver.

Dappled sunlight streamed down from the viewport, the patterns shifting as the gentle breeze outside blew through the trees that Tech had landed behind. His intention was clearly to obstruct the Marauder from view, but the moment Tech scooted out from under the console, you were grateful for the trees for an entirely different reason. He leaned back on the base of the pilot's seat, taking off his bucket and setting it aside, leaving his face at the perfect angle for the warm glow of the sunshine to paint over his face. The patterns cast in the light adjusted with every gust of wind outside, but consistently highlighted his face in the best of ways. Your eyes trailed over the upper rim of his goggles, across the span of his elegant cheekbones, down the strong bridge of his nose, and over his prominent chin, briefly flitting to his lips before taking in the whole of his visage once again. Maker, he looked like a work of art. Unbeknownst to you, Tech had been carefully studying your apparent awe, tracking your eyes as they moved over his face, convincing himself that the way your gaze hovered over his mouth must have been a trick of the light. It was a thrilling sensation, he thought, being so intensely studied. He wondered whether this was the same look he had while studying the unique flora and fauna of new planets they visited, or whether this was something entirely different, which was why he barely registered your lips falling open before speaking so softly only the remnants of the syllables reached his ears.

“You look so pretty.” Surely he couldn’t have heard you right. No one had ever called him pretty before, and Tech saw no reason that anyone should have, it just wasn’t a word he’d use to describe himself. You, however, he would describe as pretty. Gorgeous even. Perhaps going as far as to describe the specific smile you seemed to save for when he rambled as angelic. But him? Pretty? He had to be sure.

“What was that?” You jolted at his response, only then registering how you had leant forwards, elbows resting on your knees to study his face closer, thinking about just how pretty Tech really was, and coming to the horrifying realization that you actually said it aloud. Quickly pulling back to sit up straight, heart racing at the thought of Tech knowing what you thought about him, you panicked, spitting out the first excuse you could think of to cover up the situation,

“I said, you look really shitty.”

Oh. Oh no, that’s not what you meant at all. You sat there frozen. Kriff, you thought, wishing that you would have just kept your mouth shut. Nothing. All you needed to say was ‘nothing,’ and he probably would have dropped it. Now you’ve dug yourself into an even deeper hole than before, and there's no easy way out of it.

You finally gathered the courage to look down at Tech's seated form, who seemed to be processing your response, looking just to the side of your chair. Still staring at him, you could see the exact moment that Tech had fully understood what you said. The calm look that often appeared on his handsome face when you two spent time in the cockpit together dropped into something stern and analytical, but you knew him well enough to see the thinly-veiled hurt in his stunning eyes.

“If you sincerely find my looks so displeasing then you are welcome to leave the cockpit and let me work on these repairs in peace.” Shab, this is bad.

“Oh maker no, that’s not what I meant–”

“What exactly did you mean then?” Tech’s voice was laced with indignation as he cut you off. He tried his best to keep any lilt of hope out of his voice. But with the conviction you had, while telling him just how unsightly he was, Tech couldn’t help but believe that his hope was unfounded, as much as he wished otherwise.

Much of this exchange had come as a surprise to him. For the better part of the last cycle, you and Tech had begun to grow closer, your relationship shifting from casual but amicable to one of close friends. Tech had found himself enjoying this development, the way you encouraged his often long-winded explanations of the interesting aspects of a planet's flora and fauna, a new system he was installing on the Marauder, or the cultural customs of the civilizations you and the Batch came upon during your travels. Even when you were around his brothers or playing Dejarik with Omega, you still encouraged him to talk and often asked questions so he knew you were listening. He noticed how your eyes lit up every time he began to tell you about the constellations and mythology of the planets you visited, so whenever the Marauder landed somewhere new, he made sure to read up on those subjects so that you two could sit on the roof of the ship after dark while he points out different constellations and tells you everything he learned about them in his rare moments of spare time. After several repetitions of that event, Tech’s brothers began to tease him about possible romantic intent on his part, which he was quick to disregard. It wasn’t until you started spending time with him during repairs that he noticed his romantic feelings toward you. He found your presence soothing, and greatly appreciated how comfortable you were, just sitting with him in silence while doing your own separate activity. He read somewhere on the holonet that this was called quality time, something that romantic partners often engaged in. Tech never brought up this fact with you, for fear of his feelings towards you being unreciprocated. Nonetheless, he found a sense of satisfaction in the knowledge that the two of you were engaging in traditionally romantic and couple-like activities, even if he’d never have the courage to ask you to do these things in a properly amorous nature.

It was for these reasons that he was so struck by the way you floundered, face flush while you attempted to answer his question. Perhaps he has been reading your relationship wrong after all.

“In that case, I must again request that you leave me to fix the ship by myself.” By this point, you knew you were going to have to tell him the truth, even though it would mean risking your friendship. You noticed how he was much more open and comfortable around you than he used to be, and the thought of undoing that progress made your stomach sink. But there was no other way to get out of this, and dealing with Tech’s reaction to knowing how you really feel about him is galaxies better than letting him think that he’s anything less than wonderful. You took a deep breath before speaking,

“Dank ferrik. I said you’re pretty, okay?” He pulled his head back slightly as if physically taken aback by your admission, which he very well might have been.

“You think that I’m … pretty?” The almost fragile tone of his voice hit you hard, as did the hope that shone just behind his eyes. You could hardly believe it, you’d sworn that the way you felt about him wasn’t reciprocated, that the way you adored him would always be a secret.

Despite the looks Echo and Hunter sent you from time to time while you and Tech were sitting together quietly in the cockpit or returning from stargazing, you still couldn’t bring yourself to hope too much. But now? Maybe he felt this too.

“Kriff. Yes, Tech, I think you’re pretty.” He tilted his head to the side slightly, considering what you just said. But with the way the sunlight continued to grace his face, you couldn’t just stop there. “You’re so pretty, Tech. And I was sitting here just trying to read my book but when you came out from under the console, the sunlight hit you just right and reminded me of all of my favorite things about you. Your goggles and your eyes, your cheekbones, your handsome jaw, and the way your nose fits your face. Your dexterous hands and your smile that makes me feel like I’ve won some kind of prize every time I draw it out of you, just because I get to see it.” You inhale sharply, having practically run out of breath during your confession. There's a moment of silence in the cockpit, and you use it to take his expression in. His face is lightly flushed and his head is still tilted ever-so-slightly to the right. He doesn’t make any suggestion that he wants you to stop talking. Instead, you think there might just be a hint of expectancy in his eyes like he wants you to keep going, so you do.

“And Maker, you’re so smart. I love listening to you talk, even if I don’t always understand what you're saying, it's worth it to see you get so excited about whatever new thing you've learned.” You’re making eye contact with him now, and a shy smile slowly crept its way onto your face as you were talking. Tech is smiling too, it's subtle but it's there, and you can’t help but feel warm inside at the knowledge that you're the very reason he's smiling. “There are so many incredible things about you, Tech. I admire your loyalty and your wit, and I see the way you care for me, your brothers, and Omega in your own way. I know they don’t always see it, but I do, and it's just another thing I love about you.” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s scooted closer, enough so that he could rest his head on your knee if he so desired, and you want him to. You want him to want to.

Tech thinks over his next words, and looks up at you earnestly,

“I– I also find you attractive, physically and as a companion.” His smile is bigger now. Certainly not an outright grin, but it shines in his eyes and makes his cheeks push up against the bottom of his goggles. That sentence alone fills your entire body with relief and somehow makes you freeze at the same time.

Having had enough of being so much higher up than him, you – rather awkwardly – get up out of the chair and sink to the floor next to him. You’re not quite facing him straight on but tilted just enough that you feel your stomach flip when you settle down, knee touching his. Tech continues to look at you curiously, and after a moment of pensive silence, you realize he’s waiting on you to make the next move. Taking a deep breath, you tentatively reach your hand over to him, letting it hover over where his own rests on his thigh until Tech turns his hand over and gently grabs your own. His hand is warm and slightly rough from the calluses on the ridge of his palm. The feeling of his hand in yours brings a smile to your face that you don't even attempt to hide. The position isn’t right to interlace your fingers, so instead, he lets your hand slip into his, lightly squeezing it and running his thumb briefly over your knuckles. Still smiling softly, you look at him again.

“I really like you, Tech. And not just as a friend.” It takes no small amount of confidence to say it, but as your statement hangs in the air you see Tech's eyes light up and it makes you forget why you ever hesitated to tell him how you feel.

“Do you mean to say that you have romantic feelings toward me?” He asks this mainly as a clarification to be sure he interpreted your words correctly, but is completely caught off guard by the way you nod and eagerly squeeze his hand. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but by the way his brows furrow, you can tell that he’s not quite sure what to say. To be fair though, you didn't either. Wanting to reassure Tech, while still letting him take his time, you shift your grip on his hand so that you can hold it a little tighter and gently caress the back of it. Tech stares at the way your hands are intertwined. And although you can’t tell what he’s thinking exactly, you can tell he likes holding your hand. The two of you sit like this, knees touching and content with quietly holding hands while Tech processes what he’s thinking and feeling. You have these pensive moments with him often, but never touching like the way you are now. It makes the entire situation feel different. Not different in a bad way, but in the way that the tension between you and Tech is both electrifying and soothing, and you know you’d wait for him forever as long as you got to have a moment like this while doing it.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the slight shakiness in Tech’s inhale or the way his left hand grips his leg to keep from fidgeting.

“I have found myself romantically attracted to you as well. And although I did not believe these feelings were reciprocated, I am both greatly relieved and ecstatic that this is not the case.” His voice is almost uncharacteristically soft. But knowing just how much he cares about his family and you, along with the presence of the analytical lilt his voice always carries, the tone seems to fit him, however unusual it may be. You know that he’s making sure you hear how he feels about you in just his tone, and it makes you wonder how exactly you managed to find someone as amazing as him.

You look up to find him gazing at you with admiration and awe in his eyes, and you just know those same emotions are reflected in yours.

“Maker, Tech. You really are just gorgeous,” you sigh, not willing to break eye contact with him just yet.

“I– thank you. I have found myself distracted by your beauty on multiple occasions, Cyare.” Tech is still surprised that you find him so attractive but thinks he might be able to get used to the praise as long as he’s allowed to shower you with it as well. You can see something shift in his eyes, barely revealing a look of questioning or perhaps nervousness. You don’t have to think deeper into why that might be, because as soon as you notice the change, Tech’s free hand comes up to gingerly cup your face. He lightly turns you to face him head-on, barely applying any pressure until you press your cheek into his palm, relaxing your gaze and just focusing on the wonderful sensation of Tech holding you.

“Forgive me if this is a bit forward, but as we have confirmed our mutual attraction, would you perhaps…” His voice trails off, clearly hesitant to ask for what he wants. In return, you reach your hand up to the one on your face and press yourself deeper into his grasp, all while giving him a reassuring smile. Tech’s breaths are slightly labored, but with your comforting reaction, he continues. “As we have confirmed our mutual attraction, would you perhaps let me kiss you?” He’s still clearly concerned about your response, but the tension in his shoulders seems to melt away when he sees the grin that spreads over your face and lights up your eyes.

“I would like nothing more, handsome.” You squeeze the hand wrapped around his, and place your right hand on his bicep. Tech lets you pull him towards you so that his face is barely an inch away from yours and shifts his hand from your cheek to your jaw as you close the gap between your mouths. Your noses just barely brush against each other and his goggles lightly press into the tops of your cheeks, but these sensations are quickly drowned out by how soft his lips are and the way they feel pressed to yours. The kiss is sweet and chaste, lingering for a few moments before you break away and rest your forehead against his. You press slow, gentle circles with your thumb into where it rests on his arm and he grips your hand tighter in return.

You open your eyes to see him looking at you dazedly through the yellowish tint of his lenses and it makes you smile. The way the ridge of his goggles presses into your brow bone isn’t the most comfortable, but getting to be close to him like this is beyond worth it. When he sees your smile he closes his eyes and presses his face closer to yours. You do the same, relaxing against him with your foreheads resting together, holding each other close, and hands intertwined. You take a deep breath, feeling incredibly content just enjoying the moment.

The rest of the galaxy can wait. All that matters right now is you and Tech, quietly curled up in the dappled sunshine of the cockpit. And there's nowhere else either of you would rather be.

#tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb tech #tech x reader #CFGE23 #cfge23 #my work

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19burstraat · 6 months

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proving kaz is a tidemaker, even tho it's not canon and shouldn't be, but I'm gonna argue for it anyway

I already made this post ages ago and now this has been in my drafts for even longer, I just unearthed it... but I'm making it again, more in depth, bc I didn't hit on everything I wanted to last time. obviously this isn't canon bc the point of kaz is he's Just Some Guy and how that really really pisses off more powerful people, and I think that's definitely best, Kaz NEEDS to be otkazat'sya for his function in the story... but if you ever wanted to prove it in a fic, shit is EASY. (I am vaguely considering how it might work out in a fic. we'll see. I've done stuff that couldn't/I wouldn't want to be canon before with my jordie-lives fic, so...) I'll mostly talk in the context that he'd be a tidemaker bc I feel like that's the conclusion a lot of this comes to, but some of the points are more generalised.

obviously the basic argument everyone makes for this is that the reason kaz was able to get back to shore from reaper's barge is bc, subconsciously or not, as a tidemaker he could control the currents to help him, since that's one of the most basic tidemaker powers. in the harbour scene, he notices that the tide has moved to work against him, but it doesn't seem to prove much of a problem; he attributes it to his new will to survive, but... Well. Kaz is exceptionally good at withholding information, even in his own POV.

grisha not using their powers become ill or weaker; kaz isn't really physically ill but he has an element of the underfed and sallow about him that's generally attributed to living in the barrel.

kaz is also ESPECIALLY horrified by the state of mikka, the tidemaker under the influence of jurda parem at the start of SOC; this is attributed to his past trauma and his dislike for things he can't rationally explain, which, yeah, but he is thrown in a way we don't really see again for the rest of the series. he instantly thinks of jordie, and it's maybe the one time he succumbs to superstition in the whole series.

the obvious explanation for how kaz knew that coffee extract and paraffin hid the scent/evidence of grisha is that he's very clearly involved in smuggling (jesper mentions how coffee grounds were used when packing smuggled jurda shipments) but the second explanation,,, is that he uses them himself. he comes up with the solution with IMMENSE speed and he just like, has the coffee extract around. ok, sure, not that hard to get hold of, but still. and coffee gets mentioned in relation to him at least a few times, most noticeably the 'bitter coffee eyes' thing inej uses, which is amusingly romanticised, but also... inej why do you associate coffee w kaz... something you've noticed abt him?

(but then, you wonder why he didn't suggest this to jesper previously; the answer I'm sure he would give you is he did, when it was a problem. before that it wasn't a problem and jesper was doing fine at staying hidden on his own)

the gloves can also add to this one, since they presumably at least cover his wrists and therefore his pulse somewhat, though obviously that's not their main function.

recovers with startling speed from nearly drowning at the ice court; matthias has to get his breathing going again but he's almost immediately fine after. I know yk, heist fantasy book, gotta keep going, but still

kaz is almost completely correct about the methods, powers of, and appearances of the council of tides (one single thing, the method of hiding their faces, is wrong.) impressive, no...? he is also shockingly apathetic in the face of their threats; they fill his lungs up with water and he just coughs it up and then is like "lol" immediately after. this is funny no matter what the fact of the matter (major general of the idgaf war) but the fact his link to them is left hanging is also a thread that could be easy to pick up. I think it would be hilarious if he was secretly in the council, but I won't stretch it that far bc they clearly don't like him lmao, that would have to be a proper AU.

in the dregs, kaz has a corporalki (nina) and a materialki (jesper) but no etheralki. wouldn't it be prudent to recruit one, if he could find one? or maybe he doesn't need one. if he already has one around, for an emergency of emergencies... for a rainy day... (ha ha)

the way kaz's trauma is often described as manifesting, is with the rising of the harbour waters; so it's pretty reasonable to suggest that in suppressing that, he'd also, inadvertently or not, suppress any kind of tidemaker/etheralki impulse or power. possibly he can't even tell the difference between the two, or they're so tangled up he can't really separate them anymore, which is why he doesn't so much as even think to attempt to use it. still, if this was the case I think improvement with one would not necessarily improve the other, or vice versa. kaz hypothetically using grisha power he'd had suppressed would not magically make his touch aversion go away, I think that'd be weird, and I'd not want his PTSD to be passed off as solely being the sickness from not using grisha power, that's reductive as hell. but I can see them certainly being two things very much intertwined.

we don't know a lot about grisha who are native to kerch, but assumedly he'd not have had much cause to use it in his childhood, on a farm somewhere inland, so most, if not all, of his experience with using it would likely be irretrievably tied to ketterdam and jordie so no wonder he just wouldn't use it. I don't think he'd even see it as feasible. perhaps it would be a very very final resort, but he'd never let it get to that point, he'd always want to try something else first. and anyway, he'd not be trained.

the sankt vladimir story is also thematically quite close to Kaz; holding back the harbour waters until he's finally too exhausted and lets it drown him. I like this regardless of this analysis actually it's a good comparison. patron saint of the drowned and unlikely achievement....

even if kaz wasn't an otkazat'sya, after all that happened, I think he'd try very hard to pretend he was. it couldn't save jordie, therefore in his extreme as hell thinking around that entire thing, I imagine he'd reason it wasn't useful, that he could get on better without it, and, like jesper, think it was a liability.

this would add a wild layer to him being the one to have the jurda parem on him for almost all of crooked kingdom; it would make it feel like his plan z was to take it himself. certainly he'd sooner do that than let jesper take it.

and finally: thematically, it slays. like half of the imagery around kaz (and kanej) centres around water (think the bathroom scene, how he only washes in front of her, etc) and that plays into both of their trauma, plus religious imagery, all this... it's a fantastic bit of extra theming. it just doesn't really work with how his character operates.

basically I think you could DEFINITELY make it work and it'd be a killer fic but again it's one of those things, like jordie living, that I don't really want to be canon because it undermines something about kaz's character that I consider pretty critical; in this case, that kaz is not really endowed with any special power or circumstance, he's just bloody-minded and clever, but that's enough for him to pull off almost impossible jobs anyway.

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #soc duology #soc #my post #six of crows duology #this has been in my drafts for sooo long lmao #it'd be an interesting fic but idk how I'd frame it. I'll have a think

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simping4villains · 9 months

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A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another Phinks oneshot requested by one of my wattpad readers! My requests are always open, just keep in mind that it may take me awhile to get to them bc i’m working on sooo many fics rn. Anyway, hope you enjoy! <3

~~~~~

Warning: Sexual content

The mission was simple: break into the social club on the edge of town and steal the valuables that were said to be hidden in the safe. What the intel failed to mention was that the social club was a common hangout for the local mafia members. When the four of you broke in, you were completely swarmed. Of course, those grunts couldn't actually use nen, so it didn't pose much of a challenge, but a heads up still would have been nice.

"What's wrong? Why are you holding back?" You asked Phinks as he snapped the neck of the last man in the most recent wave of enemies, dropping him into a heap on the ground.

"Huh? Whachya mean, holding back?"

"Oh sorry, I just thought you had to have some kind of intense power to be a part of the phantom troupe."

You hadn't been with the troupe for long, so you hadn't gotten to see everyone's abilities, but you were very impressed with the few that you had seen. It made sense why they had the sort of reputation that they did.

"The hell are you saying?"

"Nothing, forget it. Let's just catch up with Shalnark and Feitan." The hallway ahead of you split into two paths. You weren't exactly sure which one led to the other spiders. "Uh, any idea where they went?"

"I was a little busy when they ran off," he snapped.

Why was he always so fucking defensive?

"Alright, guess we'll have to split up to find them. You think you can handle yourself?"

He rolled his eyes as he pushed past you. "Don't get too cocky, newbie."

You both picked a hallway to follow. It became clear pretty quickly that you had chosen the right path. More blood and bodies covered the floor the further you went. Eventually, you found Feitan and Shalnark standing at the end of the hallway. Behind them was a large, metal door.

"Oh, hey y/n!" Shalnark called when he saw you. "Perfect timing."

"Where's Phinks?" Feitan asked impatiently.

"He went down the other hallway to look for you guys."

He gave an annoyed grunt as he pulled out his phone. "Will text him."

"So, how's your first official mission going so far? You sure you still wanna be a troupe member?" Shalnark asked you.

"It's not all that bad," you laughed. "I hadn't talked to Phinks much before this, though. What the hell is his problem?"

"Good question," Feitan muttered as he read Phinks's immediate reply to his text.

Shalnark laughed. "Aw, come on! Phinks is a great guy. He's just got a lot of. . ."

"Anger issues?" Feitan offered.

Shalnark shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"Stupidity?"

"Not that either."

"Don't know what else it could be."

Shalnark's eyes lit up. "Passion! Yeah, that's it."

Feitan hummed, clearly thinking his answers were better.

"We havin a party over here?" Phinks asked as he strolled up. "What the hell are you guys doing just standing around?"

"Well, we were waiting for you to catch up," Shalnark explained.

"Took you long enough," you teased.

Phinks opened his mouth, likely to cuss you out for picking on him, but Shalnark cut him off.

"So anyway, this door might give us a bit of trouble. I can try to hack the digital lock, unless you have any other ideas, Phinks?"

Feitan snickered. "Really asking him?"

Phinks reared on him. "Hey, listen here, you little runt, I'm as capable of coming up with solutions as anyone else!"

"Whatever you say."

"I don't need this," Phinks huffed before taking a few steps back. "Watch and learn."

He activated his nen and charged at the door, preparing to throw his body into it. At the last second, it swung open, causing him to crash to the floor. You and Feitan couldn't help but laugh.

"Whoops! Sorry, Phinks," Shalnark apologized. "I ended up being able to hack it after all."

Phinks groaned, rolling onto his back. "It's fine, Shal. No harm done, right?"

"Just to your ego," Feitan said. "Proved us right."

"I dunno," you countered, "even I didn't think he could be that pathetic."

He lifted his head to look at you. "You wanna quit talkin shit?"

You shrugged. "I'm just being honest"

He scoffed in response. "That's it." Phinks pushed himself off of the ground, dusting himself off. "Fei, Shal, you think you can handle the rest of this mission?"

They both looked at each other, clearly confused. It was Shalnark who finally answered. "Uh, sure, yeah."

With that, Phinks stormed over to you, picked you up, and threw you over his shoulder like it was nothing.

"Hey!" You shrieked. "Put me down!"

"Relax, will ya? You and I are just gonna go have a chat about this fucking attitude of yours."

"I can walk just fine on my own, though! Shalnark, will you talk some sense into this brute?"

Shalnark waved at you as you disappeared around the corner of the hallway. "See you guys later! Remember that spiders aren't allowed to kill each other!"

You couldn't believe his response. The other two were really just letting Phinks carry you off to god-knows-where to bitch you out. Fucking traitors.

Phinks found an empty room—some sort of storage room judging by the piles of boxes and shelves of junk—that he decided was private enough for him to say whatever was on his mind. He locked the door behind him so that no stray mafia members would interrupt and finally set you back on your feet. As soon as he did, you punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow! What the hell is that for?!"

"For treating me like a god damn rag doll!"

You went to swing again, but he caught your fist and pinned you against the wall.

"Will you calm the fuck down?"

"No, you're acting like a dickhead."

"Me? You're the one firing off all the snarky comments. Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners?"

"Oh, you're right. I forgot i'm supposed to respect my elders," you spat. "Sorry, geezer."

He gave a wry laugh. "You know, with the way you're acting, it seems like you might be trying to hide something."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

He moved one of his hands from where it kept you pinned, tilting your head so that your eyes met. "I think you've got a little crush."

It was your turn to laugh. "You can't be serious."

A crush? Absolutely not. Sure, when you'd first seen Phinks you couldn't help but admire him—I mean, come on, his body was stupidly gorgeous—but your interest was quickly crushed by his personality. You hated men who thought they were god's gift to humanity.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you staring at me back at the base." He smirked. "You want me, don't you? That's why you're being such a brat—it's just to get my attention."

You scoffed. "God, you're so fucking cocky."

"Be honest," he leaned closer so his lips nearly brushed your ear. "Does it make you want me even more?"

His warm breath made you shiver. It didn't go unnoticed by Phinks, who started to chuckle before you pushed him away.

"Knock it off!"

"Why?" He asked. "Because you know i'm right?"

"You're not," you insisted, trying to keep your pride in-tact.

"Oh, come on, I felt the way you reacted when I was close to you." His finger traced your ear to emphasize his point.

You smacked his hand away. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Right." He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, following the action with his eyes. "So you're telling me that if I tried to kiss you right now, you'd stop me?"

"Why don't you find out?"

He frowned. "Are you just looking for an excuse to hit me?"

"I don't need an excuse."

"Guess I might as well take my chances, then."

He wrapped his fingers in your hair and pulled you to him so that your lips met.

You didn't punch him. Hell, you didn't even try to push him away. Your eyes just fluttered shut as the world melted around you. What the hell was wrong with you?

You opened your eyes again when the two of you broke apart. You'd be lying if you said that you were surprised by the smug look on his face.

"Guess I was right."

"No, you absolutely were not!" You denied, though your voice sounded incredibly shrill and unconvincing as it left your throat.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Then why'd you let me kiss you?"

"Spiders don't fight."

It was a pathetic excuse.

"You would've been well within your rights to slap me if you wanted. I wouldn't have held it against you."

"I didn't know."

"Would it really have changed the way you reacted?"

"It might've, yeah."

Even you didn't believe it as you said it. Really, you knew that Phinks fully expected you to slap him when he'd kissed you. Things certainly would've been a whole lot easier if you had. Now you were left questioning yourself.

His hand found its way back into your hair. "Well, here, i'll do it again so you have the chance."

"No, don't do that!"

"Why not? Because you're lying? Because you know you secretly want me to?"

Your face was starting to feel impossibly hot. "That's not it at all!"

"Oh, really? Then what is it? You're afraid of hurting me?"

"I. . ."

He laughed. He knew he'd won. "You had so much to say earlier. Where'd all that sass go?"

You pursed your lips, glaring daggers at him. "Shut up."

"You're cute when you act tough."

"I'll kick your ass, you know."

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, flashing you that gorgeous, crooked smile that you could barely stomach. "Oh, I'm sure you will."

"Don't patronize me. I fucking mean it."

"Mhmm."

You frowned, feeling your annoyance battling it out with the sexual tension. You weren't sure which would win.

Ultimately, it was Phinks who threw in te towel. He untangled his fingers from your hair and stepped away from you, moving to leave the room.

You felt breathless without his touch, without having him so close to you.

"Where the hell are you going?" You called after him.

He turned back to you. "I figured we were done talking. I mean, you told me that my theory was wrong, so what more is there left to say?"

He turned again to leave. You rushed forward, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around. You'd been so ready to tell him off, to give him a piece of your mind, but as soon as your eyes met you froze.

"What's this all about, huh?" he asked.

"We don't. . . we don't have to say anything."

"The hell do you mean by that?"

You threw your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He was caught off guard for a second, but then you felt him smile against you. He had won. He was right. Whatever.

"So you do want me?" he teased, biting your bottom lip.

You flipped the two of you around so that he was the one pinned up against the wall. "Please, you couldn't wait to get me alone."

You pressed your mouth to his again, running your tongue over his bottom lip for him to grant you entrance. He dropped his jaw so that you could explore his mouth with your tongue. All the while you were working your fingers into his hair, pulling his head aside to expose his neck.

When you sunk your teeth into his skin he let out a combination of a yelp and a moan. "Jesus christ, woman."

"What?" You asked innocently, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot where you'd bitten him.

He chuckled, tilting his head for you to keep going. "You just might be more than I bargained for."

The corners of your mouth pricked up into a smirk. "I guarantee I am."

You sucked a harsh bruise onto his neck as you unzipped his jacket, slowly pushing it off of his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. You hadn't ever seen him without it, so you hadn't realized just how toned he really was. His muscles rippled under the loosely fitting material of his tank top. You could hardly peel your eyes away.

"Wanna wipe up all that drool?" he teased.

"Fuck off."

"Nah, it's fine. You can admit you think i'm a dime."

You wrapped your hand around his throat. "Would you shut the hell up?"

His eyes went wide with excitement. "Yes ma'am."

Your clothes flew off piece by piece amidst a montage of sloppy kisses and teeth grazing skin until he was sat back against a stack of crates with you straddling his lap. You gripped his shoulders as you slowly sank down on his cock, mouth agape and brows furrowed in a silent, pained moan at the feeling of him stretching you out. He felt even bigger than he'd looked.

"You okay?" He asked, brushing your hair out of your face so he could look into your eyes as soon as your hips were resting on his.

"Just fine," you assured him, though you were sure your face was betraying you.

"So you'd be alright with me moving right now?" He shifted experimentally and you felt a surge of pain stemming from where the two of you were connected.

Your hands shot to his chest to stop him. "Let me."

You slowly raised your hips and lowered them back down on him, building up a rhythm to get yourself comfortable until you were all but bouncing on his dick. His hands held your ass, lazily guiding you up and down his shaft.

He threw his head back in a moan. "You're so fucking hot. Shoulda done this sooner. Shoulda made a move the second I laid eyes on you."

"I would've thought you were a jackass," you retorted.

He gave a breathy laugh in response. "Does that mean you don't now?"

"I'm not sure i'd say that."

His mouth quirked into an amused smile before he pulled you into a kiss, hot and passionate and wild. When you broke apart he rested his forehead against yours, letting his hands run over your skin to soothe you.

"Do you need me to hold back still?"

You shook your head.

"Then you might wanna brace yourself."

He gripped your hips and started thrusting up into you. You buried your face into his neck, clawing at his back and tugging at his hair, trying to keep yourself grounded as he pounded into you relentlessly. He didn't slow until his tip rammed your cervix, causing you to squeal into his shoulder.

He froze, pulling away so he could look at you. "Was that too much? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you assured him.

He rolled the two of you so that you were on your back. "I can slow it down for a sec," he said, rolling his hips so that he moved in long, slow strokes. With the angle he was at, he brushed all the right spots on each retreat. You were practically seeing stars.

"God, Phinks," you breathed.

"Yeah, babe? That feel good?"

"Fuck, yes."

Your hands snaked up his arms to pull him down into another kiss. Meanwhile, one of his hands moved between the two of you and settled on your clit. You gasped as his fingers started tracing circles against it and he used the opportunity to catch your bottom lip between his teeth.

You arched against him, letting out a low whine. You appreciated how gentle he was trying to be with his slow thrusts, but it wasn't enough.

"What is it, gorgeous?"

"I want more."

"More? You want me to be rough with you again?"

"Please."

He completely pulled out of you. The empty feeling left you ready to complain, but he cut you off when he grabbed you by the throat and said, "Get on your hands and knees."

You quickly scrambled to do as he'd asked, nearly shaking with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. You were expecting the sensation of his cock head teasing your entrance, but instead he landed a hard slap on your ass.

"What the hell was that for?!" You yelped as he did it again.

"You think you can act like a brat all night long without any consequences? You should've known you had this coming. You were practically begging for me to put you in your place."

You didn't know how to react. You'd never had anyone treat you like that before. You were struggling to accept the fact that you kind of enjoyed it.

He folded himself over your body so that he was speaking directly in your ear. "Now, you're gonna take every inch of me like the good little slut you are, got it?"

You nodded, struggling to find words to respond to him.

Once he got the go-ahead, he shoved your face down into the floor so that your back arched, making your ass stick up. He gave it one last slap before forcing the whole length of his cock into you at once.

You cried out in pain, gritting your teeth as your walls accommodated his size.

"You can take it," he said, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Can't you?"

"Yes,” you whimpered.

"Good girl.”

His words caused a new heat to build between your legs. "Please," you begged, "fuck me."

"Whatever you want, princess."

He pulled back his hips and slammed them into you again, repeating the action over and over until he was was hammering into you even faster than before. You could feel that familiar coil of pleasure building once more, threatening to snap. As if Phinks could sense it, he dropped a hand down to give attention to your clit again.

"Come for me, babe. I know you're close." He nipped at your ear. "I wanna feel you come on my cock. I wanna ride you through it until you're all fucked out. Let go for me."

You did, letting your orgasm wash over you, carrying all of the tension in your body with it until you practically melted into Phinks. It was pure bliss.

He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him and grabbed your hips, using them as handlebars to help him chase his own release. Within moments, you felt him stutter and a warmth spread through you, letting you know that he'd finished as well.

Once the fog had cleared a bit from his head, he pulled out of you and rolled onto the floor, laying on his back. You collapsed beside him and watched his chest rise and fall heavily as he caught his breath.

"You gonna be alright?" You asked. "I know senior citizens are at a higher risk for heart attacks if they overexert themselves."

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him, tilting your chin up and slipping his thumb between your lips.

"You sure do like to mouth off. Maybe next time we'll have to put this to better use."

You spat his thumb out. "Next time? You've got the wrong idea. This was just a one-off thing."

He gave a hearty chuckle, like what you said had genuinely amused him. "Sure it was, babe. Whatever you say."

#fanfic #wattpad #anime #writing #phinks #phinks x reader #hxh phinks #phinks magcub #phinks magkav #hxh smut #hxh x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter

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soshiharin · 3 months

Text

looking out

summary: in which harin sees hajoon again

set: 5 nov 2019

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mention of food and drinks; swearing; angst

an: words in bold are korean, words in bold and italics are italian. send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

Harin gasped as she was embraced in a hug before the door had fully opened. She wrapped her arms around her brother as he slightly lifted her off the ground. They pulled apart with a kiss on the cheek, walking into the apartment.

“So?” Hajoon asked as Harin got a good look at his townhouse apartment. He went into the kitchen to continue preparing their dinner.

Harin nodded, impressed at the place her brother called home. “It’s great. It really is.” She walked past the dining room and onto the patio. “The garden is a nice plus!” She called out as she returned to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Tommy was adamant on getting this apartment because of the garden,” he said, stirring one of his pans. Tommy was his close friend and roommate.

“Tommy is very smart.” She walked up to her brother, watching as he moved on to chopping an onion. “What’re you making?”

He gathered the cheeses and eggs that he was going to mix together. “I know you can’t cook, but can you really not tell?” He teased, measuring how much of each ingredient he needed.

Harin rolled her eyes. “This truly just looks like you put your entire fridge on the island.”

Hajoon paused from where he was fetching the herbs he needed. “That’s insulting. I’m making lasagna,” he told her, adding the fresh parsley to his bowl.

Harin looked over the pots and bowls on the island. “Now it looks… more recognisable,” she said, causing Hajoon to scoff as he began to grate his cheese. “How’s the restaurant?”

Hajoon had started a restaurant with Tommy in 2017. Their restaurant, Seoul in Rome, specialised in Italian and Korean cuisine, influenced by their upbringing.

“It’s going good, it’s going good. We bought the open space next door to ours, and we’re gonna turn that space into a fine-dining area. We’re going to add a kitchen on that side so that we don’t confuse the ingredients for the different sides.”

She walked around the island, standing by the barstools “That sounds exciting. I think. I’m not quite sure…”

“It’s exciting,” Hajoon said, getting started on assembling the lasagna. He spread two spoons of sauce over the bottom of the baking dish that he was going to use, adding two layers of noodles over the sauce to cover it. “Thanks to the money you give us every month, we were able to save all the extra cash and put it towards buying the open space.”

“Yeah, well… I’m a humanitarian.” She bragged with a shrug. “But I’m glad that everything’s going well with the restaurant. I’ll have to pay it a visit while I’m still in New York.”

“Sounds cool! I’ll give you a tour of the place and show you what we’re planning on doing,” he said, adding half of the cheese mixture and sauce. He added the remaining noodles, cheese and sauce before retrieving the aluminium foil and covering the dish with it. He placed the dish in his preheated oven, setting an oven for thirty-five minutes on his phone. He turned around to face his sister. “You know you can sit down, right?” He asked, staring at the barstool she was standing next to.

Harin rolled her eyes as she pulled out the nearest barstool for her to sit on. “Forgive me for trying to work on my posture. Eomma might kill me if I don’t start standing up straight.”

Hajoon chuckled, washing his hands before drying them. “Would you like anything to drink? I can offer you water, soda, fresh fruit juice, and wine,” he listed off, walking to his fridge.

“For a house owned by two men, you sure do have a lot of choices,” she teased, holding up one finger.

He understood her request, fetching a glass from the cupboard. “We’re not just two men, we’re two chefs, so our fridge is always stocked,” he told her as he poured her water before passing it to her.

She accepted it with a smile, taking a sip. She played with the end of her hair as Hajoon began cleaning up the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, noona?” He asked, putting the herbs he used away.

Harin shook her head as she answered, “Nothing’s wrong.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Then why are you playing with your hair?”

She stopped flicking the tips of her hair this way and that, reaching forward to hold her glass. “Um, I… I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said, putting down the pots that were in his hand and moving to stand in front of her.

“Um… I–” she groaned. “I got back together with Dongwook,” she blurted with a shy smile on her face.

Hajoon inhaled deeply, his chest moving with his breath. “Hm,” he hummed before returning to organising the dirty dishes.

“Wait, that– That’s all you have to say?” She expressed her shock.

“What else should I say?” He asked, his voice void of all emotion.

“I don’t know. Maybe ‘Congratulations!’ or some shit like that?”

His back still faced his sister as he asked, “Why would I say that?”

“Because this is a happy moment for me and you’re happy for m–”

“I’m not happy for you,” he interrupted, causing Harin’s smile to drop.

“You’re not?”

“Why would I be?”

“I… I’m dating Dongwook again! We– He’s… We’re back together.”

Hajoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And why would I be happy about that?”

“He’s… He’s Dongwook. He’s great, he’s–”

“The guy that broke your heart?” He asked, turning around and crossing his arms. “Or is this a different Dongwook I don’t know about?”

Harin nervously bit her bottom lip as she watched her brother. “He’s the same one, but… he’s changed. We talked about it. I forgave him. You can be happy for me.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The only times I had ever seen you cry were at concerts, at–at–at your plays, or on other random days, like my graduation. He had you crying everyday for months. So no, I won’t be happy that you’re back together with him, okay?”

Tapping her fingers against her glass, Harin tried again. “Well, he said his family is happy we’re together again.”

He scoffed, rubbing his forehead. “Of fucking course they are, Harper. Why wouldn’t they be over the fucking moon that you’re giving him another chance to break your heart, hm? I mean, I can’t believe how naive you are!”

“I’m not naive.”

“Then why are you doing this! Why were you expecting me to give you flowers and shit for telling me this? If I reacted joyfully, it would mean that I don’t give a shit about you,” he said, turning around to get started on the dishes.

“Hajoon-ah, I know that you have some resentment towards him, but he’s changed. I know he has, and if you just give him a chance, you’ll know it too. I’m a grown woman, okay? I can make my own decisions without you judging me.”

“And when those decisions leave you calling me because you’re having a panic attack and you can’t breathe, I’ll remind you of that.”

A silence overtook the kitchen, only the sound of cars outside filling the room. They didn’t speak for almost five minutes, both trying to calm themselves down.

“You’re the–” Hajoon swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You’re the first person I’ve told. You’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

Hajoon shook his head, refusing to turn around and look at his sister. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Harrison. Harrison! Are you being serious, right now?”

He sighed. “Can you take the plates out? They’re in the cupboard over there.” He pointed to his left at the overhead cupboards.

Harin nodded, feeling a dull stinging at her eyes. She sniffled, trying to regain her composure. “You know what? I lost my appetite, so I’m just gonna go back to my hotel.” She moved to stand up, waiting for him to say anything.

“You do that,” he said after almost a minute of silence.

“Okay,” she muttered. She walked past the living room and picked her bag up from the couch before going to open the front door.

“Woah! Hey,” Tommy greeted, standing by the door as if he were just about to open it. “Sorry to interrupt your sibling bonding session, I need to fetch something from my room.”

“It’s fine, I’m leaving anyway.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. See you next time, Tommy,” she said, pushing past him and walking down the long hallway. She turned the corner, continuing to walk down the hallway until she reached the elevator. Pressing the down button, she waited for the lift to come. After less than a minute of waiting, she heard hurried footsteps.

Tommy put his arm against the wall as he panted. “Harry said– Oh, just give me a second.” He took a few deep breaths. “Harry said to text me when you get to your hotel.”

Harin nodded, her lips pursed. “He doesn’t even want to hear from me. Great.” She hurriedly pressed the elevator button again.

“Hey, I know it’s not really my place to say, but… Harry may be younger than you, but he looks out for you like he’s older. I don’t know what your argument was about, but I’m pretty sure he was reacting from a place of protectiveness and–”

“I don’t fucking care what place he was reacting from,” Harin interrupted. “I just want this fucking elevator to work so I can go sleep.” She repeatedly pressed the button, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, uh, that button doesn’t work,” Tommy told her. He reached forward to press the up button, the elevator making a ding! sound as it began moving to her floor. “It’s getting fixed next week… But, just give him some time. I’m sure once he’s calmed down, he’ll tell you that he’s sorry.”

“Thanks, Tommy, but I… He needs to fucking grow up,” she muttered as the elevator arrived. “I’ll text you later,” she said, pressing the button for the ground floor before the doors closed.

Harin leaned her head against the back of the elevator with a sigh. She knew that Hajoon had some resentment towards Dongwook, but she didn’t know just how strong it was.She didn’t need his approval to do what she wanted, but to know that he was so against it… hurt.

©️ jang harin

#ficnetfairy #snsd 9th member #snsd ninth member #snsd oc #snsd addition #snsd added member #snsd extra member #snsd member au #snsd imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines #jang harin

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hmshermitcraft · 6 months

Note

couldn't figure out whether i wanted to do a zombiecleo x joehills thing or joehills x cubfan so expect another ask at some point.

—

Joe was fragile. Not in the sense that he was delicate or made of glass, that if someone were to rough with him he'd shatter to pieces on the floor—that the person who'd done so would try to fix him by putting the pieces back, but shards of glass splinter and how often do you really find splinters of glass on the ground? No, he wasn't fragile in that sense. Joe was a swan—or at the very least, something extremely similar to one—and swans are very commonly known for being loving creatures who love one and love them for as long as they live. Which is likely why it's looked down upon in his culture to betray someone's heart—you never know how close it is to breaking after all.. Except for when it was clear, and it always was. People like Joe, when hurt over and over to the point of heart break, despite the myth that once a swan reaches that point they simply pass on—in some, very rare cases—it was more like seeing your favorite vase crack, in a literal sense. Bodies would adorn the cracks they'd been forced to hold by the betrayal for those they loved, all cracks forming directly from the heart and covering the person's body. It was often looked at with pity, which was understandable as to why.

Joe didn't like being pitied though, maybe that's why he was so hesitant to sleep with Cleo for the first year of their relationship. The idea that maybe, just maybe, she'd see the cracks and think little or him—or worse, pity him—and leave him for someone not as broken. It was a constant worry he held, bottled up until eventually it began to overflow, until Cleo eventually noticed him slip up. It wasn't on purpose though, and she was rather worried when she saw the cracks—having not been familiar with the swan half that was Joe Hills. She'd trace his skin with careful fingers, over the cracks and his hands—hands that created such beautiful things, things that only Joe would think of—and when he asked "Why?" she'll simply hum. Perhaps it's because he knows, that she was broken just like him, perhaps not exactly, she wore no cracks on her skin; but she'll tell him that her stitches are her cracks, that he would nod. They weren't perfect, and goodness knows they weren't whole, but they were together and that's more then either of them could ever hope for.

— 🪐 anon

Cleo is blunt about her brokenness in ways Joe is not. Where he speaks in metaphors and poetics, she uses self-deprecating jokes and loud, brash humour.

Maybe that is why it took so long for them to recognize themselves in each other. It's funny how they both care so much about their own brokenness, but not at all about each other's. Not in a negative way, like they're just ignoring it, no. But neither of them care that the other is imperfect. Why should they love each other any less?

Cleo, under all of her bravado, is still lonely. She's isolated by what she is and what she has experienced. But Joe has never thought of that as a negative. Cleo's undeadness is part of what makes her her. Stubborn enough to live, despite it all. Stubbornly loyal, too.

And, see, you may not be able to repair a broken glass vase completely. There will always be shards missing that will never be found. But if you melt down what remains, you can create something new. And maybe, by adding to that (a dye, perhaps) you can create something more beautiful and impressive before.

Not that they need metaphors. They're building something new together anyway.

#hermitshipping #ask #zombiecleo tag #joe tag #jleo #🪐 anon #mod 🎀

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 11 months

Text

Snippet from the next chapter of Mama’s boy

His eyes found a box covered in different colored dots. Twister. Just off of the packaging it had to be more fun than Monopoly. Spider held it up to show the group, eliciting a mix of laughter, mischievous smiles, and ambivalent looks. Quaritch shook his head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, tiger.”

Spider glanced between the man and the colorful box confused. “Why? How do you play?”

“It’s just a very physical game. You could get hurt if you played with the others.” With the others, already implying to Spider that Quaritch wouldn’t be participating.

Spider shrugged, “So what? I grew up rough housing with Na’vi.”

“Na’vi children,” Quaritch amended. Spider was big for a human and because of that wasn’t that much shorter than his friends. But the recoms? They all had a minimum of two feet on the kid. And most of them still weren’t as cornatated as they used to be when they were human.

“Spidy can spin the wheel,” Ja said, taking the box from Spider, moving to an open space to spread out the game mat.

“You're not seriously going to play this are you,” Z asked, judgment written across her face as she took in the tiny human sized mat.

“You bet your ass I am! It’ll be hilarious! Now who is brave enough to play with me.” It took some work but Ja was able to convince Mansk and Lyle to join him, Prager and Z lining up seats next to Quaritch and Spider to watch the impending disaster. Spider was handed the multi colored wheel, with instructions on how to shout out directions. With a flick of the plastic arrow he called out “left hand on yellow.” The three men complied, instantly making Spider see how this was going to be a shit show, their long limbs looking ridiculously oversized on the tiny mat.

They quickly became entangled with each other. Mansk and Ja were displaying some impressive feats of strength and flexibility, while Lyle was stuck in an unfortunately compromising position. Spider was cackling so hard he had to pass his wheel spinning duty off to Quaritch who was doing a very good job of pretending to be unamused by the whole situation. Z and Prager were sarcastically cheering on the sidelines.

“Right foot on red.” The trio collectively groaned. Their right feet were across the mat on green.

“Mansk, y’a gotta go first man,” Ja said, panting with the effort of holding his position. Mansk grunted his answer, straining to pick his foot off the ground. He slowly but successfully moved his foot into position. Ja followed suit struggling just as much but ultimately succeeding. Then it was Lyle’s turn. The man had to practically do a handstand to move his leg over his comrades without accidentally kicking one of them. His foot hit a red dot hard, sliding on impact. A ripping sound echoed in the room, as the mat split in two, causing the three men to fall in one big pile. Everyone on the sidelines, including Quaritch, roared with laughter.

“Way to go Lyle,” Mansk shouted from the bottom of the pile.

“I slipped!”

“Get off of me you bald bastard.” Ja yelled, flailing helplessly in the middle of the tangled bunch.

So much for Twister

#miles spider socorro #spider socorro #colonel miles quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar fanfiction #recom lyle wainfleet #recom ja #recom mansk #recom zdog #recom prager

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smartycvnt · 9 months

Text

Green

Title: Green Pairing: Nyssa al Ghul x Reader Summary: Nyssa and Y/n realize how much of an impact environment can have on a relationship. NR WC: 755

Y/n kicked her feet back and forth off the edge of the rooftop she was sitting on as she sipped on her beer. It was cocky and something that would have had her punished if she was still in the League. There were certain behaviors that were frowned upon, no matter how impressive one's kill count was. Y/n fancied herself as one of the greatest to ever been among the ranks of Ra's al Ghul, but of course, there were those who begged to differ. Talia wrote her off as a showboater, and Nyssa had always been a bit jealous. Y/n didn't want their relationship to be like that, but there was nothing that she could have done herself to fix things between them aside from completely disbanding the League of Assassin's.

"You should not be in this city." Nyssa's voice was cold, even colder than Y/n remembered it being.

"Hey there ice queen. What brings a girl like you to a city like this?" Y/n asked as she pointed her rifle downwards. Nyssa looked at the weapon in Y/n's hands and scoffed. "What? Don't knock the weapons of the century until you try them. Waller hooked me up with some pretty neat gadgets."

"Does she know that you're a deserter?" Nyssa questioned. Y/n laughed at Nyssa's question. Nyssa's face scrunched in displeasure. Y/n realized then that Nyssa had no idea why Y/n had left her post on their final mission together.

"Who the hell do you think recruited me?" Y/n glanced up at Nyssa as she watched the realization settle in. Nyssa looked displeased to say the very least, but didn't say anything else. "I answered your question, now answer mine."

"I have been residing in Star City and helping out the Green Arrow, which is why I can't allow you to do this," Nyssa said as she grabbed the muzzle of Y/n's rifle. Y/n narrowed her eyes as she swept Nyssa off of her feet and sent the woman flying back several feet on the roof. Y/n saw the door open to the club and aimed her sights down to see who was exiting. She let out a sigh of disappointment when it ended up not being her guy. She lowered it again as Nyssa grabbed her by the collar and dragged her away from her little camp.

"God, that American did a number on you. You get a little pussy and suddenly you're the shining example of morality. I know what you've done. I've got the scars to show how deep your compassion runs." Y/n shot up to her feet and got in Nyssa's face. Nyssa looked away from Y/n, suddenly unable to meet her eye. It was their first meeting since Y/n had left, and Nyssa thought that she would have wanted to kill Y/n, but all Nyssa could feel was guilt. They weren't at odds with each other, not really.

"I am sorry for what I did to you," Nyssa said as she sat down cross-legged on the ground. Y/n tossed her rifle to the side and laid down next to Nyssa. "We do not have to be enemies here, I just can't let you assassinate anybody."

"It's not on Amanda's terms, it's on mine. The people I kill, they truly deserve it now. I am past redemption, but the world doesn't have to be. You and I, we aren't ever going to be heroes, but we can make it safer for those who can be. I don't want to fight with you any more than I want to go back to being Amanda Waller's bitch," Y/n admitted. She glanced up at Nyssa, who seemed to be smiling slightly. "Let me pull the trigger tonight, and tomorrow, I'll let you show me another way."

"What you do when I'm not looking is not any of my business," Nyssa said as she covered her eyes. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks before she set herself back up again. This time, she was able to catch her guy and dispose of him quickly. The rooftop was empty and abandoned by the time that any guards got there, both Nyssa and Y/n nearly half a mile away from the scene of the crime. Y/n found herself feeling free as Nyssa held onto her hand while they ran together. It was much less scary having Nyssa as her ally rather than her enemy.

#my writing #arrowverse #arrowverse x reader #arrow x reader #arrow #nyssa al ghul x reader #nyssa al ghul

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shepherds-of-haven · 1 year

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Hi Lena! You are so awesome to do the questions for Oc game. I can't imagine writing all the reply on top of working in your game. 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️

If you still have some spare time, could you do question 16, 18, and 22 for Riel please?

16. What makes their stomach turn?

18. What embarrasses them?

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Hi rynna, thank you so much as always for your kind words and support, I really appreciate it! 💖💖💖 And sure!

16. What makes their stomach turn?

Riel is a pretty big germaphobe, so lots of things he perceives as unhygienic give him a nauseated reaction! He does okay with things like mud and dirt (he was annoyed but functional during Chapter 8 when he had to traipse around in the woods in his good shoes and suit) and even to an extent doesn't bat much of an eye at blood, but other stuff, like sitting at the opera while someone furiously scratches their scalp in front of him and he sees dandruff flaking off, finding hair in his food, sitting next to a stranger who coughs or sneezes without covering their mouth (god help them if they happen to cough or sneeze on him) really makes his stomach churn. (I had a flight yesterday and was sitting across from a lady who kept filing her nails at the gate and then loudly blowing the nail-dust everywhere, and I kept thinking about how Riel would have apoplexy if he were there.)

This also goes for asymmetrical things (content warning for people who are also bothered by that kind of thing) like this:

"Stomach-turning" may sound like an exaggeration but he experiences a very real, visceral feeling in his gut when he encounters stuff like this: it's similar to what people with trypophobia might feel when looking at stuff with lots of little holes/pores? While he's learned to forge through it when it's just not possible to fix it, in the past he wasn't able to concentrate because of that feeling and would just fixate: he once quietly hired a stonemason to fix a public walkway overnight because the cobblestones were out of place!

On a more serious note, failure or being bested really makes his stomach turn. I think it makes him physically sick to lose, especially to an opponent in a serious situation (not like playing chess with someone, like an actual high-stakes scenario where he wasn't expecting to lose). The whole conflict with Thieves Guild and Merchants Guild where Chase kept successfully raiding his caravans and eluding the authorities kept him up for weeks! Aerin was convinced he was going to develop an ulcer...

18. What embarrasses them?

Surprisingly, not much, he doesn't care a lot about other people's opinions so he just does what he wants and rarely feels "embarrassed"; if he's taking other people's opinions into consideration, it's because it ultimately serves some ulterior motive for him, not because he's a people-pleaser by nature! If he does feel embarrassed, it's often a second-hand embarrassment by proxy, like if he brings you to a fancy party with a bunch of politicians he needs to impress and you start stuffing your face with canapés and belching; but I think that's a "lack of control over the situation" discomfort and embarrassment rather than "I care so much about these people's opinions and now I want to melt into the ground and die" if that makes any sense!

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

I think if we're talking about romantic jealousy, it depends on how the object of his affections is handling the situation! If it's like "my crush has genuine banter and rapport with a friend or romantic rival and I'm jealous of their dynamic/closeness," I think he goes right into denial that he's jealous and tries to act like he doesn't feel anything about it because that sort of emotion would be ridiculous!!! So he'd throw himself into his work with an unusual vehemence and be extra irate and snappy and foul-tempered. If he's, like, in an official relationship with his partner and someone is flirting heavily with them and they flirt back/entertain it more than Riel would think is appropriate, he would become very cold and tart towards them in his jealousy, like "okay cool I don't care" and would essentially give them the cold shoulder and act extremely aloof and chilly, almost like they're strangers to each other, he doesn't care that much. I think he does experience possessive feelings but doesn't show them outwardly by trying to "claim" or cling on to the object of his affections in that way; he'd find such behavior embarrassing for both parties, him and his lover!

#Shepherds of Haven #Riel #Riel Syndran #ask game

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yelena-bellova · 1 year

Text

Freedom to Last: A Don’t Be Afraid Miniseries - Chapter One

Chapter One: Interruption

Plot: It’s a perfectly normal day for the Solo-Damerons. Y/n trains her Padawans, gathers her children and comes home, Poe walks through the door after a long day as General. All is as it should be. Monsters always wait for the concealment of night to prey…

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, death, blood, one sex joke

A/N: WE’RE BACK!!! I’m so excited to jump into this series and it warms my heart that people are still interested in the DBA universe. I hope this story is just as fun to read as the last one. Unlike DBA, this series will cover more mature themes (violence, kidnapping, imprisonment, etc.) so it’s a more mature teen rating. Small changes have bene made, this now takes place three years after the epilogue of DBA, so a total of 6 years since TROS. I had to go back and read some of the old chapter sto makes ure I got my history right. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!

—————————

Peace had come and peace had stayed.

It felt like a over-simplification to say that peace had just come. Peace had been fought for, willingly and unwillingly. Peace was scarred and bloodstained. But peace shone like a thousand suns and warmed everything in its reach. Peace was worth it, all of it.

I considered peace as I walked amongst my Padawans, who were floating two feet above the ground. Their legs were crossed, their small hands curled against their knees. How they could go from fireballs to perfectly tranquil still amazed me.

The only sounds around us were the soft Naboo winds brushing the high blades of grass, and the occasional fish leaping in and out of the nearby pond. As soon as I ended their exercises, the littlest ones would scurry over to the water and giggle endlessly as they watched his show.

“Alright, students,” I announced, “Return to your starting positions.”

Slowly, and a little rockily, they floated back to the ground. They dusted off their pants and stood to attention.

“That was very good,” I smiled, “Lots of improvement. Remember that to sustain your altitude, you have to fully give yourself over to the Force. It’s not so much forgetting what you’re doing as it is having peace about it.”

“Yes, Master Y/n,” their voices piped up.

“Alright,” I grinned, “Training’s done for the day. I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”

Excited conversations broke out in pairs, a few walked back to the temple, and the youngest took off hand in hand for the pond.

“They’re getting better,” Rey called from behind me, leading her own group of Padawans back from their trek.

I walked in her direction, “Aren’t they? How was the hike?”

“You’re all done for the day,” Rey announced to her class, “Remember to hydrate,” she turned back to me, “Very freeing. We’re close to getting to the top of the mountain.”

When Rey and I first established our training center, we thought we might be able to recruit a few younglings and grow over the years. What we got was an influx of young Force-wielders. The First Order’s reign had caused many to conceal their abilities. As they disappeared, so did the fear of being discovered. There were so many students enrolled that we had to split them up between us; Rey took those aged 8-14 and I took 3-7.

“Are you going to see Finn tonight?” Rey asked as we walked back to the temple.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, “Why?”

“I want to lend him one of the texts,” she explained, “He blew through the last one so fast, I thought I’d have more time before he needed this one.”

Finn, the best man of us all, was flourishing. Not only was he co-leading the Resistance, but he was nearing the end of his Jedi training. I had retired from active military service for the purpose of working more with the Force, but he balanced it all perfectly. I was both impressed and slightly envious.

There was also the small case of Finn and Rey and their…whatever it was.

“Give it to me and I’ll have Poe bring it in to him tomorrow,” I shrugged, my expressionless face curling a smirk, “Or you could go and give it to him yourself.”

Rey gave a healthy dose of side eye, “Don’t.”

“What?” I faked innocence.

“That.”

“What ‘that?’”

“That.”

“I just suggested that you go and give our friend the book you’re lending him for his training,” I threw my hands up in surrender, “Though if you were to stay, the sunset’s supposed to be beautiful toni- ow!”

A firm whack of her satchel silenced me. For all of my trying, I’d never get her to own the way her eyes lit up when she was with Finn.

“I’ll bring it right down,” she called, running ahead into the main building.

I took it as an opportunity to appreciate what we’d built. The temple and its grounds were modest, mixing different architectural stlyes to create something uniquely us. The main building was styled after the old temple on Coruscant in the days of the New Republic, when my grandfather would have been a master. But the huts and the stone ground outside were less modern. Rey and I had taken inspiration from Ach-To, the place where both of our Force journeys had taken shape. The whole place felt like home and I was happy our Padawans shared in that feeling.

Judging by the sun’s position, it was time for me to head out for the evening. I started down the stone path that led to the open field, already excited for what awaited me. The closer I got, the more sounds became prominent. High pitched giggles, quick beeps, grass rustling underneath two pairs of feet…each one set my heart alight.

Finally, I got close enough to see the scene. Through the high plains, my two children chased BB-8, with R2 watching from close by.

My babies, their heads covered in dark mops of curls like their father, bounced and toddled through the grass. They shrieked in happiness as BB-8 reversed course and began chasing them. R2 watched them like a nervous mother, ready to intervene at any moment if one of them needed anything. This was exactly how I wanted them growing up; free and full of joy.

“Room for one more?” I called, walking through the field to come join them.

“Mama!” They screamed, runnning at top speed to me. When they reached me, I knelt down and let them topple me over.

“I missed you,” Lyra, my daughter, exclaimed.

“I missed you too,” Jax followed up, never one to be outdone by his sister.

Kisses were pressed to their heads, “I missed you both so much. Ready to go home?”

A resounding chorus of ‘yes’ came.

“R2 and BB come too?” Lyra asked.

“R2’s going to stay here with Aunt Rey,” I explained, R2 hopped between living at our home and the temple, “But Daddy needs BB, so we’ll bring him with.”

They cheered, while I chuckled quietly to myself, “Daddy would fall into a bottomless pit of sadness.”

Rey caught up to us, holding out the Jedi text. “Off you go, without another word,” she ordered me, sweetly changing her tone to address her niece and nephew, “Here’s a game to play on the way home; if Mommy says anything about me or Uncle Finn, scream really loud until she stops.”

Jax and Lyra excitedly bounced up and down before taking off with Bee.

I shot Rey a sarcastic smile, “You’re a gem.”

“And you’re annoying,” she replied with the same smile.

“See you tomorrow,” I called, strolling behind the twins.

“See you then.”

Jax and Lyra chased Bee the whole way back to the Falcon. While my starfighter was precious, it hadn’t been very practical once I started bringing the twins along with me. The Falcon, when not in use by the Resistance, was what I used to fly us the short ten minutes from the temple to our home.

“Can I fly the ship, Mama?” Jax asked as we boarded.

A spitting image of his father, he was the one Dameron whose appetite for adrenaline I had a shot at curbing.

“Not till you’re older, bud,” I said as we made our way to the cockpit.

My body relaxed as soon as I entered the Falcon. Up until Naboo, it was the place I’d lived longest in my life. The twins were growing up in the co-pilot seat, watching both their parents fly the beast.

“Where are our seatbelts?” I began our checklist, a silly little routine I’d come up with to make flying more fun.

“Around our waist,” they answered in unison. We’d also installed seatbelts.

I adjusted a few switches, “Where are our hands?”

“At our sides.”

“Where are our heads?”

“In the sky!”

Smiling proudly, I powered up the ship.“Then let’s gooooo!”

With a round of cheers and hand claps, we lifted off the ground and headed home.

—————————

Upon getting back to our modest homestead, I changed out of my Jedi robes and into my mom clothes. The only piece of the ensemble that always remained with me was my lightsaber, clipped to my belt.

I watched the twins play in the backyard through the floor to ceiling glass windows in the dining room. Poe and I had taken our time taking the house from a bare bones to something beautiful. We finished about half way through my pregnancy, when we got a curveball thrown at us.

Jax.

During the first scan, the doctor was confidant that there was one child and one child only. It was at the seecond one, with Poe anxiously gripping my hand and studying the screen, that the doctor made an announcment. There was a second heartbeat.

There was a moment of panic, we’d have been crazy not to. Two babies. Two cribs. Two sets of screaming 2AM wake up calls. Two bottles. Two of everything. But by the time we got back home, we were overjoyed.

“It’s a good thing, right?” Poe had smiled, “Two little yous.”

“Or two little yous,” I grinned, imagining what our babies may look like.

Poe took my hands, rubbing his thumbs across the skin, “We waited so long for this. I’m not gonna complain that we’re getting more of it than expected.”

It was true. We had waited to start our future until we were in the best possible place. I couldn’t have found true problems with it if I tried…

I shook my head with a smile, “You don’t do anything by half, Dameron.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” he winked, pulling me into this chest.

My husband had, indeed, won the genetic lottery. The kids, from their hair to their personalitties, were just like their father. It only mattered to me that they were hapy and healthy, but there was a small part of me that hoped they might take on some of my traits as they got older.

I gave birth on the rare rainy Naboo day, the queen having loaned me the royal birthing suite at the hospital. We already had their first names picked out, but made a judgement call as we held them in our arms that night. Poe was squeezed beside me in bed, an arm around my back.

“We gonna do middle names?” Poe asked softly, Lyra dozing against his chest.

“I hadn’t even thought of it,” I never looked up from Jax, admiring the creases in the corners of his eyes, “I mean, I don’t have one. Neither do you.”

Poe inched one shoulder up into a shrug, not wanting to disturb his daughter, “Could be nice to start a tradition.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

He thought for a moment, “What about for Jaxon…Kes and Han?”

“Jaxon Kes Han Solo-Dameron?” I tested the name, “That’s a mouthful.”

“And Lyra Leia Shara Solo-Dameron?”

I tried to laugh quietly, “Poe, that’s five names. And listen to all the ‘a’s.’ She’ll never forgive us.”

“She’s got you as a mom, she’s got Rey as an aunt…I want her to have a piece of our moms to carry with her through life,” Poe whispered, “A’s be darned.”

Smiling and shaking my head, I looked from my husband to my kids. I already knew they was force sensitive, they were already carrying three legacies for three different lineages, the Damerons, the Solos and the Kenobis…

Then I thought about how much I’d have loved to be named after Sola. Perhaps I was named after some relative long passed. Lyra and Jax would never know all their grandparents, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be connected to them.

“Lyra Leia Shara Solo-Dameron,” I looked back down to Jax, “Jaxon Kes Han Solo-Dameron. Don’t hate us for how we love you.”

Poe snorted, prompting me to join him in a hushed fit of laughter.

Now my overly named children were on their feet every hour of the day, demanding Bee be at their constant beck and call, already asking to fly ships and wield lightsabers. They were everything Poe and I had expected them to be. They were truly Solos and Damerons.

The security system to the house beeped, announcing an incoming ship. I picked up my tablet, though there was no need to. I knew exactly who it was. I just liked seeing the familiar X-Wing fly in every night.

A moment later, the front door opened, and my body was once again put at perfect ease.

“I’m home.”

Nearly seven years together and a decade of knowing one another, and the sound of Poe’s voice still set me on a lovely edge. I looked forward to him coming home each night just as much as I did when we were young commanders, expecting him back from a mission.

And the sight of him…forget about it.

He strolled in, handsome as ever, in his general’s uniform. He’d shaved the beard a while back, when the twins were babies and it became a pain-inflicting form of entertainment to tug on it. The stubble retook its place. There were some grays still coming in on his head, though Poe would never admit it. He wore it all so well, it was almost annoying how perfect he could look without trying.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “Hi,” he whispered huskily.

“Hi,” I smiled against the lips that were already coming in hot.

The kiss was sweet and eager, like the ten hours we were apart were just enough to bring him to the line between gentle longing and agony. I took all of it, bracing myself by gripping his collar and melting into his body.

Once we pulled apart, a loopy grin appeared on his face. “How was your day?”

“Good,” I smiled like a lovestruck teenager, “You?”

“Long,” he answered, rubbing his hand up and down my back, “Had a meeting with a couple of the Mon Calamari royalty.”

“Ah, that explains the uniform,” I smoothed out the collar.

Poe tugged at the neck, “It’s suffocating.”

I looked from his lips and back up to his eyes, “It’s hot.”

The signature Poe Dameron smirk made its way across his lips, “Then it’s worth suffering for.”

Without another word, the air changed from electric to soothing. One peck to my lips, a squeeze of my waist and he walked off to the kitchen.

“Did the funding come through?” I asked as I followed him through the house.

“Yeah,” Poe reached into a cabinet and grabbed a glass, “It’s not like we’re launching a full-scale attack or anything. We just need to cover some ship repairs, maybe nab a few from a yard somewhere.”

“If you need me to come throw some weight around, I can,” I came and leaned agaisnt the counter, “My grandfather had good relations with the Mon Calamari, so did Mom.”

Poe drank, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, before setting the glass down. “I think we got it in the bag, but thank you for reminding me that my wife could do my job in her sleep.”

“Not true,” I shook my head, “You and Finn are doing a great job. Three would just crowd the place up at this point.”

Poe gave a half smile as he leaned over the sink, his mind visibly drifting elsewhere. I could sense his unease.

“What is it?” I asked, getting silence in return. That was serious. “I can already feel there’s something you’re not telling me, so there’s no point in hiding.”

Poe scrunched his face up, “But I’m getting better at it?”

I spared a fake laugh and scooted closer, our shoulders brushing. “Come on...”

“There’s been a few…” he sighed, “I don’t even know what to call them. Attacks, I guess, working their way through the systems.”

It wasn’t totally shocking, I’d seen on the Holonet that in the Outer Rim, a few Imperial and First Order disciples had attacked local businesses. Theft, arson, while awful, were still classified as minor compared to what crimes had been committed during the war.

“I read about the Rattatak one earlier today. And Felucia.”

“That’s the thing,” Poe sighed, “They seem to be working their way through the systems, starting with the Outer Rim and working their way in. They just attacked Kashyyyk today. Chewie’s there now checking things out and offering help.”

“Wait, so why is this being kept quiet?” I asked, “I didn’t read anything about Kashyyyk.”

Poe rubbed his hands over his face, “Because technically it’s not something to worry about yet. It’s not an uprising, it’s a bunch of kids thinking they know how to run a galaxy. In an ideal world, it just wouldn’t be happening. I don’t have jurisdiction anywhere where they’re happening, the Resistance barely has any pull on those planets. They’re tying my hands.”

It was then I realized I couldn’t remember a time where I didn’t think like a military strategist. Maybe when I was young, but as soon as Mom had started taking me to senate hearings, I was long gone.

“Are we sending relief?” I continued.

“Of course,” Poe answered, “I sent Chewie with orders to give them whatever they need.”

I shrugged, “Then I guess that’s all we do at this point. We did clean up for so long, there’s always a group who thinks they can do it better than the last guys. Nothing ever comes from it.”

“Yeah,” Poe quietly said, “I know.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned into his back, he held onto my wrists.

“It’s a waste of time thinking about it, but,” Poe paused turning his head towards me, “I wish there’d never been a war.”

It was a thought I’d had nearly every day since the fight had begun. Had there been no war, I’d have never lost precious years with my brother, I’d have never lost my parents, my uncle, hood friends…I’d have become a completely different person.

Jax’s scream of his sister’s name, followed by a round of laughter broke me out of my head.

Had there been no war, Poe and I would have never crossed paths. I’d have never been stranded on Jakku and met Rey and Finn. I’d have never been led to Ach-To and learned my heritage. I’d have never married Poe. I’d have never given birth to Jax and Lyra.

“I do too,” I replied, getting to my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his ear, “But something beautiful was born from it.”

I kissed his temple softly and Poe stroked his hand across my arm. We watched through the windows as our kids played in the grass. Soon, they’d realize that it was long past the time their father came home and run inside to greet him. Dinner would be had, leftovers tonight, and the table would be filled with laughter. Poe and I would tuck them in, give plenty of hugs and kisses, before retiring to our own room. We’d fall asleep in each other’s arms as we always had, and life would continue on just how it had for the past three years…

—————————

*BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEP*

The emergency communication signal through our bedroom. I woke first, looking to Poe’s nightstand but realizing the noise was coming from both of ours. That never happened.

“Poe,” I slurred, shaking my husband’s arm, “Poe, wake up.”

“What,” he exclaimed, clearing his throat after.

“Comms,” I rolled over and picked up my device, “This is Y/n.”

“Y/n,” Rose Tico called, “The base is under attack. We need you and Poe here now.”

My heart came to a grinding halt, “What?”

“We’re being invaded, we need help.”

Without another thought, I jumped out of bed, “We’re on our way.”

Poe was just finishing his conversation as well, throwing the covers off and grabbing his pants from the floor.

“What the hell?” He mumbled as he threw his clothes on.

I frantically ran to throw a tunic on over my camisole. I threw my hand out and used the Force to retrieve my lightsaber. Though my mind was inflamed with worry, my thinking were still clear.

“3PO!” I yelled, rushing out the bedroom and into the hall, “3PO!”

“Yes, Mistress Y/n,” the protocol droid came waddling in, “How may I-“

“Protect the kids,” I ordered, “The base is under attack.

“Oh, my goodness-“

Any other comments went unheard, I was already out the front door with Poe skidding behind.

“Take the fighters,” he called.

We sprinted around the edge of our house to where the ships were parked. Poe’s X-Wing and my starfighter sat next to one another, waiting for their next call to action.

I unlatched the cockpit and hopped in, not even bothering to fasten my seatbelt but making a point of putting on my headset to communicate with Poe.

“All set?” He rang in my ear.

“Ready,” I reported, the hum of the ship’s innards coming to life. I don’t think I’d ever gotten it in the air quicker.

The ten minute flight seemed to take hours. The closer we got, the clearer the smoke trails were. The base was ablaze.

“You seeing this?” I asked, it was an obvious question but I was dumbstruck.

��I see it,” Poe answered.

We finally neared base, miniature sized bodies scattering in and out of the building. Poe and I landed in the outer part of the hanger, the one area that didn’t seem to be under attack yet.

As soon as I leapt out of my cockpit, smoke hit my nostrils. Blasterfire and screams rang through the air. It took me straight back to the war.

“Let’s go,” Poe yelled, pulling me back to the present.

Extending my lightsaber, the two of us ran towards the back entrance through the hanger. The hallways were pure chaos. Resistance personnel ran hunched over, dodging blaster fire from the invaders. As one woman ran past us, her attacker came chasing after her a second later. Poe, wielding a blaster, landed a shot to his chest.

“Get to the med bay,” I ordered the woman, turning to Poe, “We have to find Finn.”

We took off down the next hall, the various ones around it bringing a stream of cries for help. They’d attacked the halls of the non-combat personnel first, it seemed. It made sense, wipe out all the easy targets first.

Poe and I began to return their attack one by one, my lightsaber slashing through blasters and sticking itself in the chests of the opposing team. Poe and I went back to back at one of the hubs, wiping our separate halls out. It didn’t matter how long it had been since we’d fought together, we were a perfectly oiled machine.

Eventually, we got to the main hall where the offices were. In the distance, I spotted a dark figure landing punches and taking shots.

“Finn!” I called out.

His head perked up, “Y/n!”

Poe and I sprinted down the hall, taking out a few of the invaders on our way.

“What the hell happened?” I asked while dodging a blast.

“They came out of nowhere,” Finn replied, twisting a man’s arm and pulling, causing a sick crack, “Security didn’t even catch them.”

Poe pushed me down to the ground, saving me from a near fatal shot, and fired back. While on my knees, I used the Force to pull a few men to the ground, landing roundhosue kicks once I was back on my feet. I swung my lightsaber around to stab though the shoulder of one who was aiming at Poe.

“Coming at you!” Finn yelled in my direction.

I whipped around and he Force launched his attacker toward me. Spinning, I slashed my lightsaber through his abdomen and shoved him to the ground.

Once we’d eliminated everyone in our hall, we took off toward the center of the base. Inside the war room, there were several Resistance member clutching their wounds and trying to help one another.

“We gotta get out front,” Poe said, “See where they’re coming from.”

We made a beeline for the main entrance where the majority of the blasterfire was coming from. Our soldiers were holding a defensive line to try and keep anyone else from getting in. Poe took up position with them while Finn and I slipped out the side. I dodged blaster fire with my lightsaber and used the Force to knock over one half of the offensive. It gave our team the opportunity to ground most of them. Once the rest of our attackers realized that they had greatly underestimated our numbers, they began to retreat back to their ships.

There was a moment of shocked silence after they left. The noise inside had died down, it seemed like a collective call had been made to leave. In the distance, I could see the Naboo fire and rescue team flying in, ready to take down the flames.

Poe got up from his spot and came to me and Finn, throwing his arms around me. The power of fear that came with fighting was something I’d forgotten.

“Let’s get inside,” he led, “Assess the damage.”

The three of us grabbed three gas masks to help with smoke inhalation and walked the halls. We helped the injured get to the med bay and checked to make sure the bodies strewn weren’t wearing Resistance colors. Sadly, we’d lost at least a dozen.

“You notice anything about these guys?” I asked, looking at one with a lightsaber hole through his chest.

“What do you mean?” Finn asked.

I looked down the rest of the hall, all the intruders wore matching grey uniforms. Similar to what Imperials used to wear during Palpatine’s reign.

“They’re all uniformed,” I answered, nudging the man’s boot with mine.

Poe and Finn looked around them, confirming what I’d said.

“This wasn’t random like Felucia or Kashyyyk,” I continued, “This was coordinated.”

“Guys,” Rose called breathlessly from the end of the hall, “You gotta come see this.”

The three of us followed her to the growing crowd of personnel all staring at something. Getting closer, I could see they were surrounding a body. I couldn’t have imagined what I’d see when the people parted for us.

A woman in a lieutenant’s uniform with her chest slashed open, blood pooling in her lap. A crimson stained paper was tagged to her shoulder. I had to kneel down, the mask barely shielding me from the smell, to read what it said.

‘DEATH TO THE RESISTANCE. LONG LIVE THE NEW EMPIRE.’

I unpinned the note from the dead woman’s jacket, the only dignity I could give her. My eyes didn’t leave her lifeless face as I handed the paper up to Poe and Finn. Their stunned silence matched mine.

The communicator in the pocket of my sweatpants went off, I blindly pulled it out and switched it on.

“Yeah?” I said, the syllable barely leaving my lips.

“Y/n,” Rey called over, “What’s going on? I can see the smoke from here.”

I took the first breath I could actually feel since waking up. “There was an attack,” I stated, my eyes still staring at the woman’s soulless eyes, “We’re okay.”

“What happened? Who was it?”

I pivoted to look up at Poe and Finn, who were just as confused as I was. Yet even with so little information, it all made perfect sense. None of the attacks had been random. They were part of something much bigger. Something that was heading straight towards us.

—————————

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