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ask-sarah-and-co · 1 month

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Wyvern touched down just outside of Rose Tower.

Sarah checked her phone as the four dismounted, 7:30. They were right on time, then.

She patted the aerodactyl. “Rest up, buddy. We’re headed elsewhere after the party!” He trilled back, as if to say that the flight didn’t wear him out at all, before she returned Wyvern to his pokeball. She checked the clock again, for good measure. 7:31.

“Why’re we so early?” Silver glanced over her shoulder and scowled at the time. (At least, she assumed it was the time. He could be scowling at her super cute wallpaper of Sparkle.)

His boyfriend rolled his eyes. “Common wedding courtesy is arriving 15 minutes before the set time.”

Silver exchanged a look with Hugh.

“The elevator to go up also takes a while.” Sarah’s eyes trailed up the tower, the very same one where many things happened 4 years ago. Or was it 3…? She could never remember.

“Well then,” Hugh lightly shoved the two guys in the direction of the entrance, “We’ve stalled enough out here. Let’s get going.”

— 💎— 🎸—

She fidgeted, tapping her foot as the elevator slowly moved upwards. Sarah could remember going up with Hop like it was yesterday. She glanced at the other three, still thinking to herself. Would Hop be there? Would Bede and Marnie?

Sarah thought again, probably not. Galar’s hero or not, Leon probably wouldn’t want Hop going. And Piers, Marnie. Would Bede even want to go?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She glanced at Gladion, who gestured to the standing display that signified they were near the top of the tower.

“Brace yourselves.” Hugh looked at the other three somewhat seriously, but Sarah could see the excited twinkle in his eyes. “We don’t know what we’re in for.”

— 💎— 🎸—

The first sight was a green haired man standing in front of an elegant door. Was that door there 4 years ago? She still couldn’t remember.

“So. We meet again.” The man smiled at Sarah and her boyfriend. “Hugh,” He nodded and handed him a large, crisp envelope, “And… Sarah, right?”

She nodded, and he handed her an envelope too. Her full name was inked out in a rose gold script on the front. Just above Team Rocket’s R and Marco Cosmos’ emblems.

“N!” The girl studied the man who had (inadvertently) saved them from Ghetsis. “It’s been a while!”

“Indeed it has.”

“Is your outfit based on-?”

“Reshiram?” He smiled, “It is.” N glanced at the other two. “Names?”

Silver only stared. “If you know them, then what’re you doing working here?!”

N only smiled. “Well, officially? Chairman Rose pays well. But if you truly must know,” His expression shifted to a more serious one, “I’m keeping an eye on Ghetsis.”

“He’s here?!” Hugh’s eyes widened.

N deliberately looked away. “You two. Names.”

“Gladion.”

“Silver.”

He handed them the envelopes. “Please read through everything. The seating chart is also in there.” He gestured beyond the doors, “The ceremony will take place straight ahead, soon. Sign the guest book along the way, if you have time.”

“But-”

N ignored Hugh’s protest, opening the doors and gesturing them inside. “Please enjoy the experience!”

— 💎— 🎸—

Sarah glanced around the “chapel,” which was just a large portion of the tower’s top floor walled off. The view of Wyndon at night was beautiful. At least the two villains had taste.

She glanced at the chairs set out, not too many. She then spotted a few people she recognized, “Leon!”

Sarah noticed that he was wearing his battle tower suit instead of his champion outfit while running over to him. She glanced back at the other three, who took their assigned seats, before tackling the champion.

“Sarah!” Leon hugged her, then ruffled her hair. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was invited! As one of Galar’s heroes, of course!” She looked around for Hop.

Leon chuckled, like he could tell what she was thinking. “Oh, I wouldn’t let Hop go. Him and the other two.” Leon shook his head, “I feel like they’re up to no good, Rose and Giovanni, but I know you’ll be alright. You’re a brilliant battler, at least!”

Sarah shrugged, “Figures.” She then looked at the other man standing with him.

“Ah, so this is the protégée you’ve been speaking of, Leon?”

Sarah excitedly grinned at the Kan-Joh champion. (She noted that he chose a simple suit with darker versions of the signature dragon-type colors.) “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lance! My name’s Sarah!”

He extended his hand for a shake, which she eagerly returned, “You too, kiddo. Shame you fought the league while I was on vacation.”

“Oh yeah! I did.” Was that really 3 years ago? Or 2? “Karen’s pretty strong, though!”

“She is.”

— 💎— 🎸—

Sarah wandered back to her assigned seat, watching as guests arrived. A man, who looked like Rose, arrived with two girls- one she thought might be about her age. A man who had wild orange hair (was that the Lysandre guy from Kalos?) arrived with… Professor Sycamore? What was he doing here??

When Ghetsis arrived, she kept glancing at Hugh. He sent her a reassuring smile, as if to say, “Don’t worry, I won’t make a scene. But I still hate him.”

Giovanni’s executives arrived together. She couldn’t remember any of their names except Proton’s, who sent her a friendly wave which she returned.

She stopped really paying attention when a portal shimmered open from the floor, which Cyrus stepped out of. He took a seat, but the ghost of a chain on his ankle still shimmered in the air.

A few other people arrived, but she didn’t fully recognize them. Maybe they were from other universes, haha.

To the left of the altar, she and the others sat with Leon, Lance, and some of the people she didn’t know.

Everyone took their seats at 8:15, as the executives moved to the front. Proton stood with the blue haired guy on the left, the purple haired guy and the red haired woman on the right. (From her appearance, and the way Silver kept glaring at her, Sarah guessed that she was his mother.)

When the lights dimmed, she snapped out of her thoughts.

— 💎— 🎸—

Giovanni walked down the aisle (pre-decorated with rose petals) in a black suit and a red tie, done in Rose’s signature style.

He was soon followed by Oleana, who stood behind him. Was she really qualified to be the priest?

When Rose walked down the aisle, his suit a brilliant white and his tie matching his fiancée’s, she barely spared a glance at him. Neither did her friends. They stared at the woman walking him down the aisle. Her dress was a pale yellow with splotches of color shimmering at the bottom, and her blonde hair styled back elegantly. She walked him up to the altar, and sat down next to Cyrus.

Lusamine smiled at her niece and her son, turning back to the altar when Oleana cleared her throat.

— 💎— 🎸—

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Galar’s own Chairman Rose Azalea, and Kanto’s Giovanni Rocket.” People clapped politely, which Oleana silenced with a dramatic hand flourish.

“Gio.” Rose smiled, “We’ve known each other for quite some time…”

The chairman kept talking, but Sarah zoned out. She wondered what moments of her life led up to this moment. She really should have just not come.

Giovanni started speaking, but she didn’t listen to that either. Hugh could probably just tell her what they- oh wait, no. He was too busy glaring at Ghetsis behind her back.

When Oleana started talking again, she tuned back in.

— 💎— 🎸—

“-Rose, do you take Giovanni for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Giovanni, do you take Rose for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

Oleana nodded. “The rings?” Everyone turned as Giovanni’s persian confidently walked down the aisle, a pillow with the rings in his mouth, before sitting at Lusamine’s feet. (Because of course he did.)

The two each took one and placed them on each other’s hands.

Oleana smiled as she stepped to the side, “Now you may kiss the groom.”

— 💎— 🎸—

“Cocktail hour sucks.” Silver scowled at no one in particular, “We can’t even drink.”

“These hors d’oeuvres are good, at least.” Sarah plopped down her plate, which had a bunch of deviled eggs, cheese cubes, and a few sausages.

Hugh shook his head, “The limit was two per-”

“Pffft.” She popped a cheese into her mouth, “It’s the least Rose can do.”

Gladion chuckled, “Sarah-”

“Shhh, wait. This is the best part of Galarian weddings.”

They turned to the center of the room, where the center of the floor sunk in and revealed a battle court.

Giovanni and Rose walked towards the center, where they sent out their nidoking and copperajah respectively.

“What are they-”

“Part of the Galarian tradition is that the couple has their first battle at the reception!”

They kept watching as the two pokemon exchanged blows, but copperajah eventually fell.

Rose healed his pokemon as someone passed Giovanni a microphone.

Silver smirked. “Heh. Looks like it’s the Kantonian part of the wedding, then.”

“Huh-”

“My dear guests,” Giovanni grinned at everyone seated, “Let the battles commence. Whoever beats me and my husband the swiftest shall receive a… reward we’ll say.”

Sarah glanced at Hugh. “You wanna-?”

“You didn’t even have to ask.” They grinned and exchanged a fist bump.

Gladion grinned at his boyfriend, “Guess that means-”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Silver’s smile didn’t match his tone.

— 💎— 🎸—

Sarah grinned while watching the two girls fight. One had a tyrantrum and the other a sylveon. She couldn’t help but feel bad- based on type matchups alone, they were screwed. The thought must’ve jinxed something, because the second she turned back to the court, both pokemon were being returned.

“Ooh, that means it’s our turn!”

Hugh grinned in return, “We mop the floor with ‘em?”

“You know it!”

— 💎— 🎸—

“Sparkle!” Sarah then did a weird… gesture? Dance? Giovanni and Rose exchanged a look, eyes widening when energy shimmered around her. “Extreme Evoboost!”

Her eevee channeled the Z-Power, and a blue aura shimmered around her.

“Bouffalant, Psych Up!” The bovine copied Sparkle’s double omni boost.

“But that shouldn’t be possible-”

Sarah grinned proudly. “Cobalion taught him! My Cobalion!”

Giovani chuckled to himself. “Of course they did. Nidoking, Megahorn. Target the eevee.”

“Copperajah, Iron Head! Follow nidoking.”

“Sparkle, use Freezy Frost on nidoking!”

“Bouffalant, hit copperajah with your strongest Close Combat!”

— 💎— 🎸—

The two plopped back down at the table.

“That must’ve been record timing!”

The duo turned to Silver, who showed the timer on his phone- 5 minutes. “And most of that was just me dancing!”

“Speaking of time,” Silver turned to Gladion with a scowl. “Hurry up.”

“I’ve gotta pick the right disk.”

“They don’t share any weaknesses.”

“Ooh, water might be good. Resists steel.”

“Hah!” Gladion plucked the blue disk from his case, “Knew I could count on you, cuz.”

— 💎— 🎸—

“Think they’ll beat them?”

“I think they’ll take out nidoking, but I don’t know what they’ll do against Coppera-”

“Silvally, use Flamethrower!”

“Weavile, Brick Break!”

“…I stand corrected.”

— 💎— 🎸—

“Congratulations, Sarah. And your boyfriend too.” Rose handed her a 300P gift card for Smoliv Garden.

“…Thanks Rose.” She pocketed it.

“That’s Chairman Rose to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She grinned, “Thanks Rose.”

She watched as Rose and Giovanni left the room. Likely for pictures. She checked her phone again, 10:25. Dinner was at 11. There was still a while to hang out…

— 💎— 🎸—

“Sarah.” A voice called out to her, and also patted her shoulder.

She looked up from her arms and very eloquently blinked at Hugh. “Huh.”

“Dinner.”

“It’s 11?”

“Yup. You fell asleep.”

She shook herself awake, still disoriented. “Did the others-”

“Yeah, they’re already in the dining hall.”

“Alrighty then, let’s go!”

— 💎— 🎸—

“…Serving Kantonian and Galarian food is a weird choice.”

“You’re telling me.”

Sarah and Hugh sat with the others, each picking up a menu.

“Wow. They’re really going for legit stuff.”

Sarah’s eyes widened, “This is like, four separate caterers!”

“You gonna get ramen?” Gladion glanced at his cousin, who was going down the menu.

“Probably.”

Gladion nodded, “Figures. I think I’ll do the same.”

“Might try the curry.” Hugh smiled at his girlfriend, “Won’t be as good as yours, though.”

She grinned proudly as Silver rolled his eyes.

“Think I’ll get seafood.”

Sarah skimmed the seafood menu. She then shook her head, she was never fond of fish and was allergic to shellfish. There was no point in even looking. About to flip back, the small logo in the corner caught her eye. She smiled slightly to herself as she realized that the caterer was the same resteraunt as the one he’d taken her and Sonia years ago.

They typed their orders into the screen on the table.

— 💎— 🎸—

When the lights dimmed and the couple strutted through the doors, sitting at the head table, Sarah knew they would start droning on again.

“My dear guests. I thank you all-”

She was close to putting her head down and falling asleep again, but decided to just zone out. She snapped back to reality when she saw Lance (who also seemed to be zoning out) peek up out of the corner of her eye.

“-and a thank you to our special guests: Champion Leon, Champion Lance, and Champion Sarah! Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and celebrate with us!”

The three looked at each other from their respective tables, before all three grinned awkwardly at the polite applause.

“And to that, I toast you my friends!” He raised his glass of champagne and everyone followed suit. (The minors only had water in their glasses, but still obliged.)

“Cheers!”

— 💎— 🎸—

Sarah wolfed down her food when it was served.

“I didn’t starve you, did I, dear?” The other three turned to Lusamine, while Sarah kept slurping.

“She’s just like this, Mother.” Gladion frowned, “Now tell us what you’re doing here.”

She only laughed, “Rose has been a dear friend of mine for forever. Not attending his own wedding would be quite rude, especially after he attended mine.”

Before anyone could reply, Sarah dug into her bag, pulling out the envelope and two luxury balls.

“Since you’re going to the gift table, could you put these there for me?”

“I’m regretting the pokemon-as-a-gift decision,” Silver frowned. “How do we know they won’t mistreat them?”

Sarah shook her head emphatically. “They seem alright. And they’re definitely not those two.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of Cyrus and Ghetsis.

Lusamine nodded in agreement, took the three objects, and walked away.

Hugh shook his head, “What was even in that envelope anyways-”

“A check for like, a billion P, probably.” Gladion frowned as Sarah nodded.

Silver only shook his head. “Rich people.”

— 💎— 🎸—

The night commenced with dancing. A lot of dancing.

Sarah wasn’t big on dancing, but even she was dragged on the floor for one slow dance.

The finale of the event happened as the walls lowered into the floor, making the space open once again. The windowed part of the roof opened up and a corviknight taxi flew in. The couple boarded it, calling out “Arrivederci!” and “Bon voyage!” as they showered rose petals and flew off.

Sarah glanced up at the sight, “Is it finally over??”

— 💎— 🎸—

They stalled for a bit, but soon everyone cleared out. Sarah and Hugh also changed, handing their clothes back over to the Aethers.

The quartet stood outside Rose Tower, “…Guess this is goodbye.” Hugh sadly looked at his two friends, as Sarah moved to the side slightly. They needed their own moment.

“Blueberry’s not gonna be the same without you.” Gladion smiled sadly, as Silver nodded.

“Now we might actually have to hang out with Drayton for company.” Silver mimed throwing up, as the other two chuckled.

Gladion and Silver glanced at each other, before each exchanged an arm. Hugh hugged them both tight.

Sarah smiled slightly when Hugh and Gladion extended arms to her too. The four hugged for a while, knowing that breaking apart would mean they were closer to separating.

When they separated, they stood awkwardly.

“…I’m gonna miss you, Gladdy.” She hugged him tight, which he quickly returned.

“I’ll miss you too. I’m… I’m glad we got to spend time together this summer.”

“Me too, cuz. Me too.” If she blinked back tears, that was between her and her eyes.

“You sure you don’t need Wyvern?”

“No. We’re going back with Mother via the flying taxi.”

“And you have everything?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” She turned to Silver, “It was nice meeting you.” She smiled genuinely at him, “You’re good for Gladdy. Thanks for keeping him company.”

He blushed and turned away, but still muttered a thank you. He awkwardly patted her on the back, too.

“Well, you guys should get going.” Hugh frowned slightly.

“Yeah… Aunt Lusamine’s waiting for you.”

They glanced back at the corviknight taxi, like they both forgot she was there.

“Right.”

“Well,” They both started jogging backwards. “Arrivederci. Or whatever.” Silver grinned.

“Well keep in touch. Promise.” Gladion and Silver fully turned and ran to the taxi.

Gladion, Silver, and Lusamine waved from the taxi as it disappeared into the night.

— 💎— 🎸—

“Sarah. Wait.” Hugh placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from running off.

She turned to him, confused.

“I, uh.” He took out his love ball and released applin, also taking out the tart apple she’d given him months ago. “I- We talked it over.” He gestured between himself and applin, “He’s ready.”

Sarah let out an excited gasp, cupping both his hands with her own. “Really?”

He nodded, and applin trilled in agreement.

“Consider it a… a salud to new adventures, yeah?” She nodded excitedly.

Applin touched the apple and they were surrounded in a blue glow.

Flapple filed around their heads, as they each gave him a pet. Hugh returned him to his pokeball, and pocketed it.

Sarah tackled her boyfriend in a hug, “Dawww, you getting all romantic on me, Hugh?”

He laughed, “Are you tearing up again?”

“No,” She wiped her face, “I got, uh, apple. In my eye. Yeah.”

He laughed again, cupping her face. “C’mere, you dork.”

She pulled him close, kissing him.

They pulled apart, noses touching.

“You ready for whatever’s next?”

His smile was soft, “Anything.”

Prologue fin.

— 💎— 🎸—

Cameos:

Sean from @tallgrassghosts Meg and Kyo from @askthewhiterocket and finally, @kuixotic’s Cooper! (he didn’t have a blog specified lol)

Thank you for letting me grab your chars! Hope I didn’t butcher the back of their heads too bad hehe.

#READ THESE TAGS FOR MOD NOTES !!!#thank you all SO MUCH for sticking with me! I hope you’re alright/were fine with reading over 3k words… but it’s a fitting ending!#next thing is the event with Luna next month! I also have something planned for the blogs one year anniversary on the 30th!#also might post smth on my bday? (4/13) but it won’t be canon bc Sarah will have smth on hers (the same date but in universe)#you’ll see everyone again where this left off in May! (unless the event is extended lol)#ik it took me almost a year to slug through the prologue. but the plot will ramp up soon! promise ;)#pokeask #pokemon ask blog #Sarah Adamu #Hugh Iroai #Silver Sora #Gladion Aether #Prelude- Alolan Vacation #Mini Arc I- Wedding #I’m not tagging all the chars. sob #hope yall enjoyed this… I learned so much abt weddings for it akndknank

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scionshtola · 2 months

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i should go to sleep early but. im gonna read instead 😌

#i feel very annoying rn. ajkdhsjlkflasd #so im just gonna look at my kindle til i fall asleep #i did however finish the prelude of this fic and write a little bit of the next scene #i was doing well but ive kind of petered out so hopefully if i sleep earlier tonight it will come back tomorrow lol #i need a text post tag

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batbabydamian · 4 months

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Hey, I started reading Robin son of Batman because of your recommendation (I literally have a print of your post on my phone to not forget lol). Honestly? One of the best things I ever read!!!

Thank you for opening my eyes! Damian has been one of my favorite characters for over a year, but I didn't read/watch much of him because of school, life (and probably an executive dysfunction in the mix).

Maya is incredible. I loved her.

I haven't finished all the issues yet, but do you have any other recommendations?

WAH this makes me so happy, i'm glad you still gave it a shot even with how busy life is!! ;v;

i’d love to give reccs, and i’ll try to go a beginner friendly route! tbh you can pick up whatever here, but since you've read R:SOB i’d immediately follow up with Batman and Robin (2011) #1-8! this first arc is what’s referred to in Maya’s introduction, and it's just. so good.

Main Books

Batman and Robin (2009)

Dick as Batman with Damian as his Robin!

#20-22 Tree of Blood: Dark Knight vs White Knight arc is done by Tomasi and Gleason, the team for the next Batman and Robin series

*Batman and Robin (2011)

Bruce and Damian figuring out their relationship as both Batman & Robin and father & son

imo you can enjoy the ride and read straight through this but i’ll add context to avoid as much confusion as possible since there’s the occasional tie-in or offscreen events, like Damian’s death nbd

Batman Incorporated (2012) #1-10

events leading to Damian's death - affects Batman and Robin (2011) from issue #18

kind of a tough read especially with how Talia's written, but a lot of iconic bits like Batcow, Damian's vegetarian declaration, Alfred the cat, "We Were the Best, Richard."

Robin (2021)

another self-discovery adventure, particularly after Alfred’s death and a fallout with Bruce (and questionable writing choices from his last Teen Titans run)

Batman and Robin (2023)

currently ongoing! after a number of events, Bruce and Damian are back as a duo

Damian Dynamics!

Batman: Streets of Gotham (2009) #7, 10-12

arc where Damian meets one of his first Gotham friends, Colin Wilkes

Batgirl (2009) #5-7, #17

Steph and Damian dynamic! "the bad cop, worse cop" dysfunctional duo

Red Robin (2009) #13-14

early Tim and Damian dynamic that of course includes fighting haha. funny enough, accidentally my first intro to Damian LOL

Teen Titans (2003) #89-92

Dick!Batman has Damian join the Teen Titans. Start of Damian and Rose Wilson dynamic that’s extended in Robin (2021)

Batman: Gates of Gotham (2011)

Damian meets Cass and has a brief team up

Gotham Academy (2015) #7

Damian meets Maps Mizoguchi! they have a few other meetings, but outside of that the series itself is a great read!

Robin War Event (2015)

Robin War (2015) #1, Grayson (2014) #15, Detective Comics (2011) #47, We Are Robin (2015) #7, Robin: Son of Batman (2015) #7, Robin War (2015) #2

Duke and Damian dynamic! not exactly beginner friendly but these are the main issues in order for the event! you can also read the TPB version for everything including Tie-Ins

Nightwing (2016) #16-20, #42, #43

#16-20 Nightwing and Robin arc!

#42 Dick on a mission to save Damian! the one appearance of "Wiggles" the dragon

#43 Dick, Roy, and Damian team-up

New Talent Showcase 2018 "Catwoman: Pedigree"

Selina, Damian, and Alfred the cat

Batman: Prelude to the Wedding - Robin vs. Ra's Al Ghul (2018)

Selina, Damian, and Cheese Viking - Damian's fav game shown in Nightwing: Rebirth (2016)

Monkey Prince (2022) #1-4

Marcus Sun Shugel-Shen's main comic, but Damian features as a fun dynamic here before they're in more serious circumstances in Batman VS Robin (2022)/Lazarus Planet event

Superman (2016) #10 - 11

the beginning of the Super Sons! featuring Maya!

Super Sons (2017)

solitary arcs but there’s a few event tie-in issues later

Adventures of the Super Sons (2018)

literally more Super Sons adventures lol galactic shenanigans yeehaw

Challenge of the Super Sons (2020)

Super Sons time shenanigans feat. the Justice League

Robin 80th Anniversary (2020)

"Boy Wonders" - brief Damian feature as Tim considers his next step in life

"My Best Friend" - Jon's thoughts on Damian and their dynamic

"Bat and Mouse" - refers to Damian's unfortunate Teen Titans (2016) run at the time of release which follows up with Teen Titans Annual #2 where Damian briefly gives up Robin

Extra Comics!

Superman/Batman (2003) #77

Kara and Damian in a Halloween team-up! also the appearance of "Li'l Matches" lol

DCU Halloween Special '09 "Cavity Search"

Damian out on a solo mission for Halloween night. Immediately after is Tim's Red Robin story "Then and Now: Our Father's Sins" which is more somber in contrast but also a good read!

DCU Halloween Special 2010 "Robin the Vampire Slayer"

a Dick!Batman and Robin story featuring the vampire Andrew Bennett

Cursed Comics Cavalcade (2018) "The Devil You Know"

Halloween themed comic with a sweet short story of Damian alongside Solomon Grundy

DC's Terrors Through Time (2022)

"Trick or Treat" a Super Sons Halloween story

"The Haunting of Wayne Manor" Damian and Deadman story - in the end, Boston kinda refers to Nezha's possession of Damian in Batman VS Robin (2022) which was happening at the time of this release

Batman: Li'l Gotham (2013)

lighthearted series that instantly makes me smile with the silliness and Dustin Nguyen’s art i love this dearly

Secret Origins (2014) #4 "A Boy's Life"

a retelling of Damian's origin story

Detective Comics (2016) #1001-1005

Batman and Robin vs the Arkham Knight (unrelated to the game)

Truth & Justice (2021) #6/#16 - 18 Digital First version

cute story of Damian’s birthday! Juni Ba’s art is so fun!!

DC Festival of Heroes: The Asian Superhero Celebration (2021) “Special Delivery”

short story about Damian! and poisoned pizzas. completely forgot the artist Sami Basri drew Rebirth Damian here before catboy Damian lol Cass’s story “Sounds” is also cute! Marcus makes his first appearance in "The Monkey Prince Hates Superheroes"

DC VS Vampires (2021)

Damian makes appearances throughout this elseworlds book, but the one-shot DC VS Vampires: Hunters (2022) is vampire Damian-centric!

Batman: Black and White (2021) #5

“Father & Son Outing” short story written and drawn by Jorge Jimenez!

Batman: Urban Legends (2021) #20-23

#20 “My Son” Talia and Bruce focus

#20 - 23 “The Murder Club” 4 Parts

Tiny Titans (2008) #33, #39, #45, #47

a few appearances but SO CUTE, LOOK AT HIM

*Batman and Robin (2011) reading guide

i'm mostly trying to avoid the "what did i just walk in on?" kinda feeling when i first started reading comics LOL i'll list the comics where events take place, but you don't necessarily have to read them to go through this book since things are usually explained as quickly as possible in the first page or so

#0 Someday Never Comes

Talia and baby Damian before he grows up to meet Bruce

#1-8 Born to Kill

just an incredibly solid arc for Bruce and Damian!

#9 Court of Owls Tie-In Issue

Damian VS a Court of Owls Talon. While Bruce is occupied with a home invasion of Talons, Alfred makes a call for allies to protect targeted Gotham public figures from Talons. During Batman (2011) #1-11

#10-12 Terminus

Damian challenges the previous Robins sans Steph

Batman Incorporated (2012) is occurring at this time where Talia has placed a bounty on Damian and there's small mentions of that

#13-14 Eclipsed/Devoured

mostly solitary arc! end of it leads into the Death of the Family event

#15-16 Death of the Family Tie-In Issues

Damian and Joker face-off... Alfred's been kidnapped by the Joker, and Damian goes looking for him. During Batman (2011) #13-17

#17 Life is but a Dream - Death of the Family Epilogue

a sort of subconscious check-in through the dreams of Damian, Alfred, and Bruce. Nightwing (2011) #17 features Damian encouraging Dick after Death of the Family events

#18 Undone "Requiem"

Bruce dealing with Damian's death from Batman Incorporated #8

other reactions to Damian's death: Dick in Nightwing (2011) #18, Tim in Teen Titans (2011) #18

#19-23 Denial, Rage, The Bargain, Despair, Acceptance

Bruce through the stages of grief with some batfam appearances in each. also introduces Carrie Kelley into continuity as Damian's acting tutor.

Batman (2011) #19-20 also addresses Bruce's loss

#23.1-23.4

these could be skipped - villain stories, also related to Forever Evil event.

#24-28 The Big Burn

optional Batman and Two-Face/Harvey Dent arc, #23.1 is part of this story!

Damian's resurrection and return

#29-32 The Hunt for Robin

Ras took Talia and Damian's bodies from their graves, and Bruce goes after him.

-> Robin Rises: Omega

continues events from #32. if you don't want to jump to this, basically, Glorious Godfrey and a bunch of parademons from Apokolips are here for a chaos shard which Ra's put in Damian's sarcophagus. at some point, Bruce gets a hold of the shard where he sees a vision that leads him to believe Damian can be resurrected. Godfrey ends up taking the shard, along with Damian's body since it was emitting the same energy.

#33-37 Robin Rises

Bruce hellbent on retrieving Damian from Apokolips and reviving him

-> Robin Rises: Alpha

necessary to read and continues events from #37! Damian's back with a bang lol

#38-40 Superpower

Damian adjusting to having superpowers and being alive again

Annual #1 2013 Batman Impossible

sweet (and funny) one-shot of Damian sending Bruce on a meaningful scavenger hunt around the world while Damian gets to be the cutest Batman for a bit

Annual #2 2014 Batman and Robin: Week One

one-shot takes place during Damian's absence. after Bruce and Alfred find a mystery gift left for Dick, Dick recounts a story he had told Damian from his Robin days.

Annual #3 2015 Moonshot

one-shot Batman and Robin adventure on the moon!

...and of course after Batman and Robin (2011), Damian's story continues in his first solo Robin: Son of Batman (2015)!

#damian wayne #ask #sorry for R:SOB promo again but i need this title attached to Damian's name as much as B&R 2009/2011😭#thank you for the ask anon!! really am so happy you were able to find the time to read RSOB and enjoy it!! i genuinely cheered 😭#i hope some of these comics give you many emotions and/or a smile!! <3 #if anyone would like to correct something or include some Damian comics please feel free to comment or add to the post!!#sorry if the reading guide is an intimidating wall of text hhh after i finished it i was like...this does not look beginner friendly LOL 😭#Damian's Teen Titans run is beginner friendly but it's so frustrating to read his character being regressed especially after RSOB #ig i would only recc the first 5 issues just for Mara asdsfg #super/bat 77 comic rlly made me wonder how Williamson could've made Damian sound so stiff now compared to his first time writing him?? rip.#also i love how there's so many Halloween stories here lol #maybe?? i'll do a guide for Damian's intro since those were the most confusing for me when i really got into his comics #i think his most recent appearances are a bit easier to figure out on your own but i don't mind doing a guide for that too if needed!#OOF tags got long lol i may be a bit nervous posting this bc i'd like ppl to read more Damian but worried i may have goofed somewhere #but hopefully this is helpful to anyone curious about peeking at his comics!!

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route-to-eutopia-if · 3 months

Text

Chapter 1 is up!

How many times have you escaped death? How many times have you lived through your borrowed time? Counting has lost its meaning; you are supposed to be dead. And now, death has finally come knocking at your front door.

PLAY Route to Eutopia demo

First update : 24/01/2024 ETA for next update : a month or so.

Link to the main post.

What to expect?

This update contains three parts in total: Prelude, Prologue, and Chapter 1; allow you to explore the world of Eutopia (in a confinement of your mansion.), and the situation your MC has been in for their entire life. Enjoy your adolescent reminiscence, a few flashbacks, a weird dream, and a scary beginning of the end at your expense.

You can also customize your MC's name, sex and gender, appearance, current sexuality and so on.

Since there will only be few necessary variables I need from the players as of now (or in other word, as far as the story goes.) so no worries, this will not be the only time you can customize them, there will be a timeskip in the next few chapters that will allow you to fully develop/customize your MC in a more in-depth fashion. (Stubbles, unnatural hair color, body shape, height, discovered sexuality or more will be available in the next few updates.)

Any issues regarding coding status, unaligned flavored text, grammar errors or just questions about the story itself can be sent via my ASK dm.

Thank you, and see you next time!

#demo update #interactive fiction #if wip #choicescript #cog if #cog wip #if game #dystopian #space opera #sci fi and fantasy #RtE #Route to Eutopia

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darkdemeter · 13 days

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KNOW YOUR RHYTHM

IMAGINE… CAPTURING THE ATTENTION OF NEW YORK’S MOST POWERFUL MOB BOSS; AND HE PLANS TO MAKE YOU HIS

Mob boss! Bucky Barnes x Dance choreo! Female Reader

—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—

While preparations are being made for tgow’s soon to be posted prelude and side blog launch. May or may not be turned into a full one shot later on, this idea's been on my mind for a while now. ────────────────

| TAGLIST

@mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos

────────────────┘

(18+ intended content) Read below the cut at your own risk!

It’s cruel to watch you, knowing that this is your last rehearsal with the girls. After this, the doors will promise an opening night to remember. But if you’ve given any hints, you don’t exactly intend on seeing it.

And for Bucky, that is just plain torture for him. Over the past three months, you have been working your pretty arse off creating a whole show routine, expertly weaving the backbone of the club’s entertainment and allocating the playlist to fit the atmosphere Bucky and his club managers wanted.

Lounging in the VIP section, a raised loft that oversaw the club’s dance floor, stage and regulars bar, Bucky still cannot take his eyes off of you. Why of all nights did you have to go racing off to another job so soon? He had paid you generously, far more than any hired choreographer could ever dream of, and yet that still didn’t seem enough to convince you. He hovers like a shadow, leaning to the dark steel railing, his ring-lined fingers drum against the dark steel as he contemplates his next move.

He barely pays any mind to his captains who take their place in the sleek, refined office that are the booths, sipping at their drinks and chatting about the club’s interests and rates. Shit that he tunes out. He can’t focus on anything when you move like that, your body arching this way and that; sinful and cause for impossible. But you prove him wrong. There are many positions he’s fantasised taking you in mid rehearsal.

Your body is pulled into the music itself. A process many seem to struggle with, but for you, it’s as easy as breathing. At first, it’d been a gamble of who to hire for the job, and now Bucky cannot dream of regretting choosing you. Renowned as a star dancer, you’re credited with awards from around the globe, in solos, duos and exceeding the numbers. Competition after competition, your name became well known.

But there is a line in your record, as Bucky had his men find, and though the exact details are still unknown to him, it’s given him an indicator that something hit rock bottom. Some time afterwards, however, you resurfaced as a dance choreographer.

And if you were still the best of the best, then he’d take you for the job. But now, he wants you for good. Dressed to the nines in outfits he’s spent on all his cards, riding to events together and having the envy of every man and woman’s eyes upon you. Hell, he’s already contemplated the venue and diamond ring.

“Chins forward, eyes open,” you call in correction, gaze set straight ahead of you in the midst of a spinning twirl before planting your heeled stiletto hard into the stage floor with a resounding boom.

Bucky’s eyes trail then upwards, the dark colour of your pantyhose hiding your skin that he’s desperate to bruise and leave his fingerprints on. His fingers curl harshly into the railing while his eyes continue to admire while simultaneously undress you, your body hugged in a very form-admiring bodysuit.

Dropping down low with the girls following suit, your hips move on beat with the music, grinding into the floor. That, of all moves, is when you make the grave mistake in glancing up at a striking pair of blue eyes, dark in their passionate longing and so bright you’re quick to force your eyes away.

But not before you flashed him a toothy smile. A smile that kills him every time. Heat rushes through your veins and rises higher into the surface of your skin, in your core it feels electric with pulsating need, but you carry on with the routine, to save face from what Bucky Barnes did to you. Unbeknownst to you at this moment of what you did to the mob boss, he groans at the tightness surrounding his clothed cock as you rock your hips back and forth, suggestive in your choreographed manner. But so dismissive in how it affects him greatly and his ability to conduct business.

No. You can’t let yourself fall into that sort of mess again. Focus. Rolling onto your back, your back arches so beautifully off the floor, it almost has Bucky gasping. The pointed pink of his tongue’s tip darts out to wet his lips.

Completely and utterly mesmerised by your rhythm, he growls like a feral animal when Steve’s voice interjects his still continuing list of how he plans to ruin you and save you.

Now at the end of your routine, you wave for Torres to cut the music and your shoulders fall heavily with an exerted sigh. “Good work, girls,” you applaud with your friendly smile, clapping for their efforts. The girls in turn repay your praise with bashful smiles and compliments of your mentorship.

You had this way with people, and especially those under your study, you were kind and playful but remained an air of professionalism to ensure your students or your time wasn’t wasted.

Bucky feels his skin crawl and his heart drop a thousand yards into his stomach. From the lavish watch strapped to his wrist, he inspects the time. End of rehearsal. End of your contract with him.

“Well, they learnt from the best.” Your head turns fast, vision momentarily blurred, there again is that feeling - that spell - he has you under as he saunters down the stairs and towards the stage where you stood, hands pressed idly into your hips.

His tongue runs over his teeth, groaning inwardly as his eyes sink and rise in study of your entire form. He could see you being his queen. You’ve a powerful stance, that much he can see, and you possess a quality that has the attention of anyone and everyone on you. A commanding presence.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks redden more. Praise from your clients always makes your heart flutter with adoration and joy. For them to express their gratitude in the ways they do, it’s good to know you have succeeded in your job.

But when Bucky praises you, you become a giddy girl that gushes and yearns to hear more. He sees the way your face shifts to reflect that professionalism, all to hide the reality of what he does to you; what he could do to you if you just gave him the chance.

“I could be much kinder, Doll.” His voice has lowered into a velvety purr, the callous massage of his fingers shoot a blaze of electricity through the thin fabric of your pantyhose and into your skin like ice, a simple touch over your calf, teasing you further as his palm encloses around you as well, sliding up and down gently. Despite your position above him, a sight he’ll never grow tired off, his up-tilted chin reaches level with your stomach. He sees the inner turmoil of conflict flash in your eyes, a battle he’s sure he can win if he plays his cards just right.

“VIP access tonight to start?”

You scoff, shaking your head. But the furrow in your brows betrays your true, raw disappointment. You can’t hide it. Not from him. “I can’t. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Thanks for reading!

————

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky au #bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes oneshot #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 3 months

Text

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 4)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10299

Warnings: SMUT (public sex/office sex, fingering, masturbation, bath sex, p in v, dry humping, hand job, worshipping), Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student

Summary: Y/n had been craving more of Jonathan, more of all of him. She knew she couldn't push him to do anything, but maybe she didn't have to.

A/N: Sorry it took AGES for me to post this part, I had just moved cities and gotten settled into a new job too, so a lot of moving around for me lately.

I had quiet a bit of fun writing this part, I loved writing more of Jonathan's personality and personal problems.

I hope you enjoy this part and look forward to whatever I write next. 💚

Y/n had begun wearing skirts to class, trying to get Jonathan to fuck her. She loved the thought of him getting all hot and bothered during teaching. The skirts were tight and showed off her legs, making Y/n feel confident and sexy. Jonathan noticed the change and couldn't help but stare at her. Every day, Y/n felt more in control, knowing that she had the power to turn Jonathan on just by wearing a skirt.

She knew she had power over Jonathan and loved it. She could just fuck him at home, but she liked the thought of fucking Jonathan in his office, or even in the middle of the classroom. She loved the idea of him getting caught by fucking his student, his face beet red with embarrassment. Y/n was in control and she loved every minute of it.

In these moments, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill at the taboo nature of their relationship. It was more than just fucking one another, but queit literally living together, the knowledge that they were transgressing the conventional norms of student and professor dynamics.

As the lecture concluded, Y/n gracefully sauntered into Jonathan's office, an air of mischief accompanying her every step. The anticipation hung palpably, the room of students unaware of what Y/n had in store for their professor.

Jonathan, though accustomed to Y/n's teasing ways, relished in making her wait. A knowing smile played on his lips as he closed the door with a deliberate click, the sound echoing through the room.

Seated behind his desk, Jonathan assumed an air of calm composure, belying the desires that simmered beneath the surface. The familiar ritual had begun, a silent interplay of glances and a magnetic pull that drew them closer.

As Y/n circled the desk, a picture of effortless allure, she leaned against its edge, casting a playful gaze upon Jonathan. The soft glow of the office lights caught the subtle mischief in her eyes.

"Professor," Y/n's voice was a velvety whisper, a prelude to the seductive dance they were about to engage in.

“Y/n,” Jonathan acknowledged her with a measured response, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I’m bored,” Y/n declared, her voice carrying a tone of mischievous longing.

Jonathan, unruffled, looked up from his work, his eyes meeting hers. “I have a hundred books in here, pick one out,” he suggested, feigning indifference.

Y/n's sigh filled the room with an air of impatience, her faux boredom manifesting audibly. "I don't want to read," Y/n declared, her gaze fixed on Jonathan with a teasing challenge.

Jonathan, ever the composed professor, responded with a playful suggestion. "What do you want to do then?"

Y/n, with a devilish gleam in her eyes, gracefully positioned herself at the centre of Jonathan's desk. A confident smile adorned her lips as she beckoned playfully, "Come on, Professor... don't you want to play with your little student?" She reclined provocatively on the smooth surface of the table.

"I don't know, you have cards?" Jonathan suggested with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Y/n's eyes rolled in exasperation, dismissing the idea of a mundane game. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me, my Dear… What do you want?" Jonathan inquired, rising from his desk to stand over her, a potent blend of curiosity and amusement dancing in his gaze.

Y/n's voice carried a sultry undertone as she made her desire known, "I want you to fuck me... right here." The air thickened with tension as her words hung in the room, like an invisible thread weaving their shared secret.

Jonathan, in response, sighed, a mixture of reluctance and longing, as he leaned over Y/n. The subtle brush of his fingers against her cheek. Jonathan sighed softly as he leaned over Y/n, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Breaking away just enough to let his warm breath caress her skin, he whispered with a hint of playful authority, "Well, then... let's hope you can keep the volume down."

Dr. Crane couldn't resist the urge to run his hands through Y/n's hair, pulling her closer to him. Y/n's tongue danced with Dr. Crane's, teasing and tantalizing him until he couldn't take it anymore.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he gazed down at her. “You're such a naughty little patient,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire

He leaned in and captured her mouth once again, his lips rough and demanding as he claimed hers in a fierce kiss. Y/n moaned loudly, arching her back as she felt his hands roam over her body, exploring and teasing her until she could hardly bear it.

With a mischievous smirk, Dr. Crane reached down and slowly slipped Y/n's skirt up over her hips, revealing her black underwear.

He paused letting his eyes rake over her body appreciatively before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think these have to go,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Without waiting for a response, he leaned over and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down over her hips as Y/n gasped and wriggled with excitement. reached down and rubbed his fingers over her wet pussy, teasing her until she was squirming with need.

“You're so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he rubbed his fingers over her swollen clit.

“You're just dying for my cock, aren't you?” Y/n could hardly bear it as his words sent shivers down her spine, her body thrumming with need as she moaned loudly.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she pushed her hips back towards him, desperate for more. “Please fuck me.”

Without another word, Dr. Crane reached down and slipped two fingers into her wet pussy, slamming them in and out of her eager hole as Y/n screamed and writhed with pleasure. He was relentless until she was screaming his name and begging for more.

As Jonathan fingered Y/n's pussy over and over, his eyes locked onto hers, a look of pure determination on his face. “You need to be quiet,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

“You don't want anyone to hear us, do you?” Y/n could hardly bear it as his words sent shivers down her spine, her body throbbing with need as she nodded frantically, unable to speak. “If you’re too loud, I won’t be fucking you.”

Y/n covered her mouth, muffling her moans. “That's a good little patient,” he whispered.

Jonathan pulled his fingers out of her wet pussy and reached down to pull his cock out of his pants, his eyes locked onto hers as he positioned himself in front of her. He pulled her hips back towards him and slammed into her, his cock slipping in and out of her pussy.

Her pussy muscles clenched tightly around his cock as he moaned loudly. He was relentless, driving into her over and over as she held on his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss.

she reached out and tried to grab his shirt, but he was quick to stop her. With a wicked grin, he reached down and grabbed her wrists, pushing them above her head and holding them tightly as he thrusted into her.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Dr. Crane,” Y/n cried.

“Come for me, my Dear,” he whispered.

Her body shook and thrummed with need as she started cumming, her cunt clenching tightly around his cock as she squeezed it with all her might. Within seconds, he was grunting loudly as he started pumping into her, his cock slamming into her cunt as he came, his cum spurting out inside of her until he collapsed onto her with a groan.

Beads of sweat adorned their skin, glistening under the soft glow of the dimmed room. The air was thick with the heady aroma of sex. Breathless and sated, Jonathan pressed a tender kiss on Y/n’s flushed cheek.

Y/n chuckled, her breath still uneven, "Should have done this sooner," she remarked playfully.

"Well, perhaps you should have been more explicit from the beginning," Jonathan teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes. A smirk played on Jonathan's lips as he added, "I hope you don't believe this concludes our time together."

Y/n released a contented sigh, acknowledging she wouldn’t be sleeping much that night. No matter how tired Y/n was, the promise of more sex with Jonathan kept her pleasantly awake.

With sex becoming more common in their relationship, Y/n became keenly aware of the need for a bathtub. The ritual of a relaxing bath appealed to her, especially when after sex, Y/n can never be bothered to shower as Jonathan had fucked her dumb.

While laying tiles, Y/n's eye caught a glimpse of the past plumbing embedded in the floor. She knew she wanted a bath eventually, but getting the main parts of the bathroom was more important at the time. However after all the leg shaking sex the two of them had been having, the sentiment grew stronger.

Y/n's enthusiasm was contagious as she excitedly skipped over to Jonathan amidst his work. He glanced up, protective goggles perched on, watching Y/n approach.

“Hey, Jonathan…” Y/n chirped, prompting him to divert his attention.

Jonathan removed his glasses, his eyes squinting slightly from the change in focus. “Careful, I’m using chemicals,” he warned, ever mindful of Y/n’s safety.

“We really need to get you a proper lab. But that’s for another day! Can we install a bath?” Y/n's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating the feasibility. “Do we have the plumbing?” he asked.

“Yep! I left it uncovered while tiling just in case. Have you not looked around in the bathroom? No wonder you wear glasses,” Y/n teased, her playful banter drawing a smirk from Jonathan.

“Well… I get paid this week for work I did for Nigma, so we can go look at some after that,” Jonathan suggested, his lips twitching into a small smile.

Y/n beamed with satisfaction and planted a quick kiss on Jonathan’s cheek. “Y/n! Be careful! Go wash your mouth, I said I was using chemicals,” he chided, a hint of frustration in his tone.

Y/n laughed, darting away with playful mischief, leaving Jonathan to return to his work with an affectionate smile.

A few days later, with Jonathan's dodgy paycheck in hand, the two set out to find the perfect bathtub. They wandered through home department stores, looking at various designs and features.

"Jonathan, what about this one?" Y/n pointed excitedly to a sleek, modern bathtub with built-in jets.

Jonathan glanced at it, raising an eyebrow, "Jets in a bath? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Y/n grinned, "Come on, it's not just about functionality. It's about enjoying the experience."

Jonathan chuckled, unable to resist Y/n's enthusiasm. They finally settled on a deep, freestanding tub with elegant claw feet, a perfect blend of comfort and aesthetics.

Back at the warehouse, Y/n set to work installing the bath, with Jonathan eagerly assisting. The room started to transform, taking on a more luxurious ambiance. The scent of scented candles, ones which Y/n begged Jonathan to purchase, filled the air as they worked.

As they filled the tub for the first time, Y/n couldn't contain her excitement. "Jonathan, this is going to be amazing! Our own little spa."

Jonathan, although reserved, couldn't help but smile at Y/n's infectious joy. The bath was more than just a new addition, it was a symbol of their new domestic life and the continuous evolution of their sanctuary.

Jonathan's lips curled into a soft smile as he responded, "Go for it, my Dear. You deserve a soak in the bath." He pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's temple, the warmth of his affection radiating through the gesture.

As Y/n turned to him, an eyebrow raised, she asked, "You're not joining?"

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment as Jonathan hesitated. A subtle pause lingered in his expression before he finally replied, "I have to head down to Arkham."

Y/n's expression shifted to a gentle pout, disappointment etching across her features. "Okay, be safe," she said, offering Jonathan a consoling kiss on the cheek.

As the door clicked shut behind Jonathan, Y/n found herself alone in the bathroom, the gentle ambiance of soft lighting and the soothing scent of bath salts, which she had also forced Jonathan to purchase, enveloping her. She understood the reasons for his departure, a weight of unspoken responsibilities lingering in the air. Respecting his choices, Y/n decided not to press him into revealing more.

With a graceful ease, she began to undress. The warm glow from the candles danced across her skin as she stepped into the water, embracing the comforting warmth that enveloped her body. The room seemed to hush, and Y/n sank into the fragrant bubbles, allowing the serenity of the bath to wash over her.

Each moment was a small act of self-care, a celebration of solitude that mingled with the soft symphony of water and her own thoughts. Y/n relished in the feeling of the bath, the gentle caress of the water against her skin, and the tranquility that washed away the stresses of the day.

The warehouse door crashed open with a resounding bang, capturing Y/n's attention as she glanced up from the couch, her towel for her hair resting on the floor beside her. Jonathan stormed in, his frustration evident as he angrily tossed his burlap mask onto the cluttered workbench.

"Jonathan? What happened?" Y/n asked, rising from the couch to approach him.

"That blasted Bat is meddling with my plans...he's getting too close," Jonathan growled, fixing a menacing gaze on nothing in particular.

"I thought Edward was taking care of it," Y/n remarked.

"Yeah, well, we both know how reliable Nigma can be," Jonathan scoffed, prompting a subdued chuckle from Y/n.

"Come on, let's just head to bed. You've barely gotten any sleep this week," Y/n suggested, her hand gliding down his arm to entwine with his.

His frown eased, replaced by a gentle look as he met her eyes. Smiling, she guided him up the loft stairs, leading the way to their shared bed. Seating him on the mattress, she grabbed a pair of pyjamas, offering them to him.

As he began shedding his jacket and other clothes, Y/n watched with a loving gaze. Jonathan undid the buttons of his shirt, hesitating before fully removing it. Slowly, he turned his gaze towards Y/n, his jaw clenched. Understanding his vulnerability, Y/n lowered her head and hopped onto the bed, facing away from him.

Jonathan harboured insecurities about his physique, often choosing to change in private or while Y/n slept. She had glimpsed his body only once, tending to him after a brutal fight, and remained mindful of his sensitivity in such moments. His reluctance to be touched lingered, restricting the intimacy between them. Even during their hugs, he only let her hands rest around his neck or against his chest.

Y/n, well-acquainted with her own insecurities, understood the delicacy of the situation and recognized the limits of what she could change without him initiating it. Yet, an earnest desire to connect with him on a deeper level persisted.

As he finished changing, a sudden silence signalled his readiness. Y/n felt as he reclined on the bed and felt his arm envelop her body. Turning to face him, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips before closing her eyes and nestling against his warmth. In the quiet moments that followed, she surrendered to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat, finding solace in their shared silence as she drifted into sleep.

Awakening to a chilly emptiness, Y/n opened her eyes to find the bed void of Jonathan’s presence. A surge of emotion brought tears to her eyes, but a hopeful warmth lingered in the spot beside her, suggesting he might not have left just yet. Frantically, she scanned the loft before bolting down the stairs and out the entrance, calling out for him in the night.

The creak of the bathroom door interrupted her anxious search. She turned to see Jonathan hurrying out, reaching for her shoulders to bring reassurance.

"I'm here, Y/n. Don't worry, I haven't left," Jonathan assured her, enveloping her in an embrace while tenderly stroking her hair.

Her breath steadied as she closed her eyes, absorbing the comforting embrace and inhaling his familiar scent. It was a blend of his natural musk and subtle perfume, a fragrance she had grown to love. In that moment, the warmth of his presence and the familiar aroma offered solace, grounding her in the reality that he was indeed there with her.

"Come on, back to bed," Jonathan urged, gently pulling her away and guiding her back to the comforting embrace of the sheets.

"What's the time?" Y/n inquired.

"It's only 4 AM. We don't have to be up until 8, we have a late lecture today," Jonathan explained, leading her back to the bed.

They resettled onto the mattress, and Y/n nestled closer to him. He responded by planting a tender kiss on the top of her head, the warmth of the gesture echoing the tranquillity of the early morning hours.

The lecture unfolded in its typical monotony. Y/n absentmindedly tapped her pen on her book, her mind wandering. Her thoughts, however, were occupied by the events of the previous night, particularly Jonathan's reluctance to reveal his body. While this wasn't an entirely new occurrence, a yearning to see him persisted. It wasn't a mere curiosity; she genuinely wished he felt more comfortable with himself.

While Jonathan exuded confidence in his intelligence, the same assurance seemed to crumble when it came to his appearance and physique. It was a stark contrast, leaving Y/n contemplating the complexity of a man so assured in one aspect of himself, yet plagued by insecurities in another.

She understood that his reluctance had nothing to do with any sexual stigma, after all, they had already been intimate, though fully clothed. Y/n longed to make him feel as beautiful as she saw him, but for the time being, she resolved to let him navigate his own pace and find comfort in his own time.

Back in his office, Y/n wasted no time in launching herself at him. Her lips met his with a sense of urgency.

"Eager as always," Jonathan observed with a smirk, his words a murmur against her fevered lips.

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as she planted kisses along his jawline, slowly trailing down to the inviting expanse of his neck. "How can I not be?" she mused between breathless kisses, her voice laced with a playful yet sultry tone.

He ushered her towards their usual spot on the desk, pressing her down onto it as her arms entwined around his neck, locking them in a passionate kiss. Y/n's fingers embarked on an exploration, tracing a tantalizing path down his torso until they reached the bottom of his shirt.

With a determined pull, she started to untuck it from his pants. The sudden tensing of Jonathan's body was noticeable, but he gradually eased back into the moment as her hands moved to rest on his chest. Just as Y/n's fingers ventured toward the buttons on his shirt, a swift reaction ensued, Jonathan seized her wrist, holding it firmly in his grasp. Despite this, the fervent exchange of kisses endured.

When Y/n's other hand attempted a similar journey, moving from his shoulder to his top button, Jonathan abruptly pulled away. With a resolute grip, he intercepted her second hand, keeping both pinned down at her sides. A playful pout adorned Y/n's lips, a subtle indication of her dissatisfaction with the loss of control.

"Dr. Crane, please!" she whined, the plea laced with desire.

"No," Jonathan replied sternly, resisting her advances.

"Come on, Jonathan, I want to see you," Y/n persisted, her insistence evident in her tone.

In an instant, Jonathan's restraint snapped.

"Y/n, I don't want to take my clothes off!" Jonathan suddenly raised his voice, surprising both Y/n and himself with the intensity of his response.

Y/n's face fell, taken aback by Jonathan's reaction. The atmosphere shifted, and she felt a pang of regret. "I... I'm sorry, Jonathan," she stammered, genuinely feeling horrible for unintentionally causing his distress.

Jonathan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Y/n with a mix of frustration and apology. "No, I shouldn't have reacted like that," he said, taking a step back from her.

Y/n sat up, her expression reflecting a blend of understanding and concern. "No, Jonathan, I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to gently kiss him on the cheek, hoping to convey her sincerity and remorse.

She discerned the tumultuous emotions surging through him, even as his face remained as hard as ice. Y/n could sense the regret that weighed heavily on him, an internal struggle that manifested in the hardened lines of his face.

"Jonathan..." Y/n uttered, her hand gently clasping his face, coaxing him to face her.

His eyes, clouded with remorse, met hers.

"You don't have to beat yourself up. It's your right to your own body, I'm not going to make you do anything," Y/n reassured him, trying to alleviate the guilt etched across his features.

However, her words seemed to deepen the conflict within Jonathan. His gaze shifted downward, lingering on her ankles, prompting a resigned sigh from Y/n. "Everything's okay, Jonathan... You don't owe me anything."

Jonathan, though still visibly distressed, leaned in to kiss her once more, attempting to reinitiate the heated moment between them. Yet, Y/n gently pushed him back, her face reflecting a mix of understanding and empathy. His face fell further, registering a sense of rejection that permeated the room. However, Y/n managed to reassure him with a comforting smile.

"Let's go home," Y/n suggested, her voice carrying a sense of tenderness and a promise of solace.

As the night draped the deserted university campus in shadows, Y/n and Jonathan walked hand in hand, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the empty hallways. Y/n, seemingly unbothered, offered a comforting presence, her touch a reassuring anchor for Jonathan. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly serene scene, Jonathan's internal dialogue waged a tumultuous war of self-deprecation.

With each step, the distant glow of streetlights flickering through the windows painted an intricate pattern on the ground, mirroring the intricate thoughts swirling in Jonathan's mind. The hushed whispers of the night wind through the deserted corridors seemed to echo his inner turmoil.

Jonathan's thoughts replayed the scene in his office, the tension building up to a point where he abruptly halted the escalating intimacy. His own actions weighed heavily on him, overshadowing Y/n's understanding and reassurances. In his mind, the missed opportunity became a significant blunder, a moment of pleasure that he regretted losing.

Of course, Jonathan care very little about his own emotional well-being, but was consumed by the idea that he had irreparably ruined the prospect of intimacy for Y/n. The weight of her rejection bore heavily on his conscience, convincing him that any desire she harbored for a physical connection with him had been irreversibly tarnished.

Meanwhile, Y/n's soothing presence persisted, her hand in his offering a lifeline amidst the internal warfare. She couldn't fully comprehend the strom churning within Jonathan. Her focus remained on supporting him and making him feel comfortable.

Y/n's decision to stop their intimate moment was rooted in genuine concern for Jonathan's emotional state. Recognizing his internal struggle and the weight of the moment, she deemed it inappropriate to have sex, preferring to prioritize his comfort instead.

As they approached the parking lot, Y/n glanced at Jonathan, her eyes expressing care and understanding, unaware of the intricate battle taking place within him. The walk to his car continued, both wanting nothing more than to be at home.

Jonathan found himself seated at his work desk downstairs, a palpable tension lingering in the air after the incident in the office. Although Y/n seemed to have moved past it, Jonathan's mind remained ensnared by lingering doubts. His understanding of Y/n's unconditional acceptance clashed with an undercurrent of insecurity, fueled by the fear that his actions had jeopardized their connection.

The mere thought that he might have upset Y/n's feelings unsettled Jonathan. He grappled with the possibility that his outburst had tarnished their intimacy, causing him to question the foundation of their relationship. Despite his penchant for a stoic exterior and over inflated ego, Jonathan secretly yearned for Y/n's approval.

Vulnerability was a territory Jonathan rarely ventured into willingly, yet he recognized the necessity of comfort in his relationship with Y/n. Hesitant and self-reflective, he hoped that she could see past the rough edges he inadvertently revealed, seeking solace in the prospect of her acceptance.

Jonathan recognized that it was time to confront his emotions and address the lingering tension with Y/n. Determined, he rose from the couch and made his way to Y/n.

“Y/n…” Jonathan said, climbing the stairs with a certain awkwardness in his gait. His movements were hesitant, and he stopped at the end of the bed, casting a tentative glance in her direction.

Y/n lowered her book, her curiosity piqued by Jonathan's demeanor. She could sense an unusual tension in the air, waiting for whatever revelation he was about to share.

“Jonathan?” Y/n prompted, studying his expressions for clues.

“I was thinking about today… back in my office,” Jonathan began, his voice carrying a mix of apprehension and sincerity.

“It's okay, Jonathan, I get it. You don’t have to say anything,” Y/n reassured him, offering a warm smile to ease any discomfort he might be feeling.

“Y/n… I trust you, and… I want you to see me,” Jonathan confessed. His face remained stoic, but the subtle avoidance of eye contact betrayed his nervousness.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, initially puzzled. "Huh?"

“I want you to see me,” Jonathan reiterated, starting to remove his blazer.

It then dawned on Y/n, and she closed her book, chucking it aside. With undivided attention, she watched as Jonathan slowly shed each piece of clothing, revealing a vulnerability that went beyond the physical, a trust he was placing in her hands.

Finally down to his underwear, Jonathan took a shallow breath, his gaze fixed on Y/n. The air between them felt charged, carrying a mix of vulnerability and trust. He stood there, exposed in both body and emotion, waiting for Y/n's response.

Jonathan averted his gaze, a veil of shame clouding his expression as Y/n observed him. The intensity of this feeling gnawed at him, an overwhelming disdain for his own physique. Regardless of his persistent efforts to bulk up or gain weight, his body resisted, leaving him with a frame that echoed the scrawny boy he once was, enduring the hardships inflicted by his great-grandmother. A past that haunted him.

The disdain deepened with the visibility of scars etched into his skin, each mark telling a painful story. Harsh beatings from his grandmother, cruel pranks from high school bullies, and the lasting consequences of crows attacking him in the church were all etched into his flesh. The transition into becoming the Scarecrow only intensified the scarring, leaving a roadmap of trauma on his body.

Recent encounters with the masked bat added another layer to this visual narrative. Though the caped crusader didn't endorse murder, Jonathan’s encounters with the vigilante resulted in brutal injuries, vividly displayed on his scar-laden body. The physical toll mirrored the internal struggle, a reflection of the haunting experiences that shaped him.

The expression on Y/n's face, from Jonathan's perspective, spoke volumes. In his eyes, he felt repulsively hideous; regret gnawed at him for baring his body to her. How could anyone want to be with something so wretched?

Contrary to his distorted perception, Y/n looked at him with a sense of awe. The fact that Jonathan trusted her enough to expose himself left her feeling a surge of love and adoration. She was profoundly proud of him for overcoming the vulnerability that must have accompanied such an act.

While Y/n acknowledged the scars that adorned his body, they held no weight in her eyes. The marks from past tormentors were irrelevant; what disturbed her were the fresh wounds, the aftermath of recent encounters with Batman. The injustice of such brutality infuriated her; the Dark Knight ought to pay for causing harm to a man who had already suffered so much.

Oddly, the sight of his body only deepened Y/n's attraction to Jonathan. She cherished the way he looked, not in spite of, but because it was uniquely his. In her eyes, he was hers, scars and all, and she wouldn't have him any other way.

Y/n gracefully rose from her seat and approached him. Meeting her gaze with a clenched jaw, Jonathan was taken aback as she reached him and kissed him unexpectedly. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. Jonathan surrendered to the embrace, enveloping her in his arms. Y/n's hand moved, her touch exploring every inch of him, leaving no spot untouched.

She sought to understand every part of him, to shower each detail with the love she believed it deserved. Breaking away from the kiss, she fixed her gaze deeply into his eyes, leaving him with a bewildered expression.

"You're beautiful," Y/n spoke.

Jonathan's heart momentarily ceased before resuming its heightened pace. Overwhelmed with gratitude and astonishment, he pulled her back into another kiss. This one reflected his appreciation and astonishment. Never before had anyone regarded him with such kindness, and never before had he received such profound love.

He drew back, his breaths coming in heavy gasps. "Y/n, I... I..." he struggled, searching for the right words. Frowning, he looked around as if hoping the words would materialize before him.

Y/n responded with a gentle smile, silencing him with a hushed. “Shhhh,” with her thumb, she tenderly smoothed out the frown lines between his eyebrows, a soothing gesture to calm his racing thoughts. "You don't have to say anything, Jonathan. You're my beautiful Scarecrow," she whispered, punctuating her words with a kiss on the hollow of his cheeks.

Jonathan closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder, finding solace in the embrace. Y/n couldn't help but smile, her arms enveloping his body. The delight of being able to hold him around places other than his neck filled her with joy.

"You've got such a pretty little waist," Y/n chuckled, her fingers delicately tracing along his waist, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake.

A blush crept onto Jonathan's face, but he tried to mask it with his own distraction. "And you have such a pretty little mouth," he teased, his finger gently gliding along her jaw. Tilting her head up, he leaned in to share a tender kiss.

He withdrew and fixed his gaze on her. "So...do I get to see your body?" Jonathan asked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, playfully hitting his shoulder. "Wow! That's why you decided to show me, aye?"

Jonathan chuckled in response. "It was worth a shot," he admitted.

Y/n shook her head, smiling before taking a step back. He looked at her, releasing a shaky breath as he watched her remove her shirt and bottoms, leaving her in her underwear. Jonathan's gaze remained fixed, captivated by the sight of Y/n's body.

Despite any self-conscious feelings Y/n harboured about herself, the reverence in Jonathan's eyes made her feel like a goddess. "What? You gonna start worshipping me?" Y/n teased.

Jonathan sighed, playfully getting on his knees. "If I must."

Y/n gasped as she watched him kneel, running his fingers up her bare legs. He pressed kisses to her thighs, gently squeezing her flesh, creating an atmosphere charged with admiration and intimacy.

Jonathan, mesmerized by Y/n's presence, looked up at her with an admiring gaze. "You're absolutely stunning, Y/n. Every inch of you is a masterpiece," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine appreciation.

As he continued to run his fingers along her skin, he whispered, "Your body is a work of art which I do not wish to share. I could spend a lifetime exploring every curve, every line." Jonathan placed a gentle kiss on her stomach, revelling in the intimacy of the moment.

His fingers traced patterns on her skin. "I'm in awe of you, Y/n. You're like a goddess, and I'm honoured to worship at your feet." Jonathan's words held a sincerity that echoed his deep admiration for the woman before him.

Jonathan paused, looking up at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "So, tell me, goddess, how may I continue to worship you?"

Y/n struggled to catch her breath, her usual encounter with Jonathan involved his sarcastic demeanour, and considering himself a higher being. Yet, at this moment, he was on his knees, worshipping her.

"Fuck. The best I could come up with was you got a pretty waist," Y/n quipped, a playful smile on her lips.

Y/n, still caught in the unexpected intimacy of the moment, couldn't resist reciprocating the gesture. "You know, Jonathan," she began with a teasing smile, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd be on your knees for someone."

She mirrored his position, dropping to her knees and meeting his eyes. Her hand tenderly cupped his face, tracing the contours with her fingertips. "But here we are," she continued, "and you deserve every bit of adoration you're getting."

Leaning in, Y/n pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, savouring the taste of the moment. Pulling back slightly, she whispered, "You're not just the Scarecrow. You're my Jonathan, and you're worth worshipping." Her thumb brushed against his cheek, emphasizing the sincerity in her words.

Jonathan’s face was heating up, but he didn’t want to lose his dignity just yet. “My speech was better..” he said.

Y/n shoved him back, he laughed and landed back on the rug. “You asshat!” Y/n laughed, flopping on top of him. “Good thing this isn’t a competition, you competitive bastard.” Y/n kissed him.

Jonathan enveloped Y/n's waist with his arms, savoring the sensation of holding her so intimately against his bare body. Now unburdened by the constraints of clothing, he felt a newfound freedom to express the depth of his emotions.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Y/n suggested, her eyes meeting Jonathan's.

He nodded, sitting up with Y/n still cradled in his arms. Jonathan gently guided them to the bed, deftly pulling the covers over their entwined forms. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence, they settled into a cocoon of shared intimacy.

After seeing Jonathan’s body in such a vulnerable state, Y/n's thoughts were consumed by the desire to have him completely. Though she knew she had to wait until they were home, the anticipation was driving her wild. The newfound openness to nudity had ignited a spark within her, making her yearn for him more than ever.

Feeling inspired, Y/n decided to visit a lingerie store nestled in the heart of Gotham. Uncertain of Jonathan's preferences, she opted for a classic yet enticing choice – a set in elegant black. Excitement bubbled within her as she perused the options, carefully selecting a few enticing pieces to surprise him later.

Anticipating Jonathan's return later in the day, Y/n planned to surprise him by preparing herself ahead of time. With a sense of urgency, she practically sprinted to the shower, relishing the idea of being fresh and clean for Jonathan. After the refreshing shower, she carefully adorned herself in the alluring black lingerie she had picked out earlier, wanting to create an enticing atmosphere for Jonathan's homecoming.

Y/n looked absolutely stunning in the black lace lingerie she was wearing, the elaborate underwear hugging her curves perfectly. The black lace moulded to her breast beautifully, letting the top of her breast slightly peak over. The lace was just modest enough to hide her nipples, but sheer enough to show off her skin underneath. The underwear sat beautifully on her ass, the lace laying against her tightly and showing off her gorgeous body. She looked like an angel, but she was doing anything but.

With eager anticipation, Y/n carefully pondered over the details of the upcoming encounter with Jonathan. Thoughts of whether he would prefer her to initiate or if he would take the lead occupied her mind. The uncertainty only fueled her excitement further, creating a delightful sense of nervousness that she hadn't experienced before.

As she lay on the bed, adorned in the sultry black lingerie, Y/n couldn't help but imagine the various ways their interaction might unfold. Would Jonathan want to slowly undress her, reveling in the details of each moment, or would he appreciate the boldness of her initiation?

Caught up in her contemplation, Y/n was suddenly jolted back to the present as the door to the warehouse swung open. The sound echoed through the room, signaling Jonathan's return and igniting a surge of both excitement and nervousness within her.

“Y/n? Are you home?” Y/n's heart raced as she heard Jonathan's voice echoing from below, his presence becoming more tangible with each passing second.

"Yeah! I'm home," she responded, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she tried to formulate a plan.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me," Jonathan's voice carried through the space.

Caught in the excitement, Y/n impulsively called out, "Wait!" She mentally kicked herself for the abruptness. "Uh... Don't you want to hang out with me, though?"

Her words hung in the air, a spontaneous invitation that she hoped would redirect Jonathan from his desk to their bedroom.

Jonathan's voice reached her ears, his words dampening her initial excitement. "You know, I'd like to hang out with you, but I have a lot to catch up on right now," he explained.

Determined not to let the opportunity slip away, Y/n took matters into her own hands. "Okay... Come up when you can," she replied, feeling a surge of boldness.

First, she pulled off her shirt, tossing it off the loft balcony. The distant sound of fabric hitting the floor was met with a brief silence. Y/n seized the moment, deciding to escalate her playful tease. Her bottoms followed suit, creating another echoing thud.

As the anticipation heightened, she heard the soft sound of Jonathan's footsteps making their way up the stairs. Y/n assumed her position on the bed, propped up on her elbows, ready to meet Jonathan's gaze. Her new lingerie adorned her figure, a visual cue waiting to capture his attention. The air in the room thickened with anticipation as Jonathan's approaching footsteps signaled the imminent connection.

Jonathan ascended the staircase, his gaze locked onto Y/n as if he had stumbled upon her body covered in lace. His sharp inhale was audible, portraying the intrigue in his expression. Y/n, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, maintained eye contact, awaiting his response.

"Do you... like it?" she ventured, seeking affirmation.

Jonathan, seemingly entranced, dropped her discarded clothes onto the floor. Closing the distance, he approached the bed where Y/n lay. Without hesitation, he began to climb onto the bed, prompting a playful intervention from Y/n.

"Take your shoes off, Jonathan!" she insisted before he could settle in fully.

Rolling his eyes, Jonathan listened, pushing off his shoes with his feet in a nonchalant gesture. Once shoeless, he resumed his position, hovering over Y/n, his gaze fixed on her.

Y/n seized the moment, encouraging his touch. "Take your time, Jonathan," she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips. His hands, warm and gentle, started at her shoulders, tracing a tantalizing path down her body. Each caress sent shivers through her, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between them.

Jonathan's fingers delicately traced the intricate patterns of the lace, a thoughtful expression adorning his face. His words, steeped in genuine admiration, painted a vivid picture of his appreciation.

"You transcend beauty, Y/n," he murmured, his gaze never wavering from her form.

As his fingers continued their gentle exploration, he added, "In your vulnerability, I find strength. In your imperfections, I discover perfection. You are not just a sight to behold, you are a marvel that elicits awe and wonder. And to think, I get to share this moment with you, appreciating the extraordinary artistry that is you."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Y/n whispered, a mix of surprise and gratitude lingering in her voice.

Jonathan's words had caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She couldn't recall anyone ever expressing such admiration for her, and she found herself grappling with a mix of emotions. Before she could stammer out more, Jonathan seamlessly continued.

Jonathan's fingertips continued their exploration, tracing lines of admiration across Y/n's skin. As he gazed into her eyes, his words flowed with sincerity, a testament to the profound connection they shared.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and reverent, "I may not believe in deities or divine forces, but in you, I find something truly extraordinary. It's not about worshiping some higher power; it's about acknowledging the sheer brilliance and beauty that exists in the tangible, the real."

His hands moved with purpose, fingers trailing down her arms and across her abdomen. "You are a masterpiece, a symphony of complexities that defy any preconceived notion of divinity. In your presence, I discover a profound sense of wonder, a recognition of the marvelous intricacies that make you uniquely, breathtakingly human."

Jonathan's gaze intensified, the passion in his words mirrored in his eyes. "I don't need gods or rituals to find the sacred, it's here, with you, in this moment. You are the poetry I never knew I craved, the embodiment of everything that makes life extraordinary. And I, in my own way, stand in awe of you."

Y/n's head spun, the weight of Jonathan's words leaving her feeling light-headed. She had never imagined deserving such praise. The paradox of Jonathan, a man rooted in logic and rationality, now worshipping her, added a surreal touch to the moment.

Kneeling above Y/n, Jonathan's eyes traced the contours of Y/n's form with a reverence that transcended spiritual boundaries. His hands, guided by a devotion that defied any higher power, explored her body with deliberate tenderness.

"Who knew the big bad Scarecrow would be one to worship," Y/n smirked.

"Well, even I cannot deny the presence of such a goddess," Jonathan said, his words causing Y/n's heart to swell with warmth.

As Jonathan sat up, he removed his blazer and woolen jumper. Y/n wasted no time pulling him into a passionate kiss. Jonathan, ever the gentleman, held one of Y/n's hands gently and guided it to his tie. A smile played on Y/n's lips as she loosened his tie, reveling in the intimate connection between them.

She pulled the tie from around his neck, enjoying the subtle shivers running through Jonathan's body. With the tie removed, her fingers moved with purpose to the buttons of his shirt. Each one undone felt like a step deeper into intimacy, and Jonathan's breath grew more unsteady with every button released.

As Y/n reached the last button, a swift motion followed, and she yanked the shirt off Jonathan's body. The fabric slipped away, revealing the intricate details of his physique. Jonathan's chest rose and fell with a mix of anticipation and desire, creating an unspoken connection between them.

Y/n rolled them over so that she now straddled Jonathan. Her fingers traced a deliberate path down his scarred chest, causing a shiver to ripple through his body. It was a sensation he'd never experienced before, someone genuinely appreciating his body. Few had seen his body, and none had regarded it with the reverence Y/n displayed.

"Such a pretty boy," Y/n murmured, leaning down to grace Jonathan's chest with kisses.

He surrendered, letting his head fall back onto the plush mattress beneath him. The vulnerability and beauty of the moment intertwined, creating an intimate dance between their bodies.

Y/n was sitting on Jonathan's lap, her body warm and inviting against his. She leaned in close, her lips just inches from his ear as she whispered, “I want you.”

Jonathan felt his heart race with excitement, his member growing hard in his pants. He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch her, feeling her soft skin underneath the lace of her lingerie.

As Y/n leaned in closer, her hips grinding against his, Jonathan knew he couldn't resist any longer. He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss, his hand moving down to squeeze her ass through the lace.

Y/n broke the kiss, sitting up and reaching for the button on Jonathan's pants. She smiled as she popped it open, sliding his underwear along with his trousers off and revealing his hard member. Y/n couldn't help but admire the sight of Jonathan's member, thick and hard in front of her. She grinned as she wrapped her fingers around it, stroking it gently as she leaned in for another kiss.

Jonathan was panting into their kiss as Y/n stroked him, her hand moving up and down his shaft. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure growing in his groin as he moaned into her mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re already close,” Y/n teased.

Jonathan felt himself getting embarrassed as he felt his orgasm already building, his member twitching in Y/n's hand. He tried to pull away, but she held him close, her eyes burning with desire as she whispered, “Don't fight it.”

But Jonathan was determined not to cum yet. He pushed Y/n's hand away, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to resist the urge to explode. But as he looked into her eyes, filled with both passion and frustration, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He reached out for Y/n, pulling her close as he whispered, “Ride me.”

Y/n was about to remove her underwear, but Jonathan stopped her with a grin.

“Leave them on,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “I like the way they look on you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as she moved up and down on his member, the lace of her underwear rubbing against his skin. Y/n moved her underwear to the side, baring her pussy for Jonathan's pleasure.

She leaned down, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, “Ready?”

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to groan, his member twitching with anticipation as he nodded his approval. Y/n sank down onto Jonathan's dick, her body warm and wet around him. He groaned, his hands clenching into the sheets as he felt her tight muscles grip him, pulling him deeper inside.

Y/n began to ride Jonathan, she ground her hips against him. He couldn't resist the urge to grab her hips, pulling her close as he thrust up into her, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Y/n moaned, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

He couldn't resist the urge to groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her with a growl.

“You want it?” he whispered back, his voice rough with desire.

Jonathan groaned, his member twitching with anticipation as he thrust up into her. Y/n cried out, her body arching back against him as she pushed down onto his member, their bodies moving together in a rhythm of pure passion.

Y/n's eyes were bright with excitement as she looked down at him, her chest heaving with each breath.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispered, her voice raw with desire.

And with that, Jonathan knew he couldn't hold back any longer. Jonathan flipped the two of them over, his member still buried deep inside her. He moved his hands up to hold her waist, his breath coming in short gasps as he thrust into her from behind, their hips moving in a frantic rhythm.

Y/n watched in awe as Jonathan fucked her in missionary, his member pumping in and out of her. She couldn't help but admire the sight of him, his muscles tense and defined as he moved above her, his eyes burning with desire.

Jonathan groaned, his member pulsing with excitement as he whispered, “You feel so good.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as she reached up to grab his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

Y/n kissed Jonathan's neck, her lips moving up to his ear as she whispered, “Dr. Crane.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her with a growl, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as they moved together in a frenzy of passion.

Jonathan moved up to kiss Y/n, his member pumping in and out of her with a steady rhythm. He couldn't resist the urge to worship her, his lips moving down her body as he kissed and nippled at her skin, the sound of her breath coming in short gasps filling the room.

“You’re so beautiful, my pretty little patient.” Jonathan kissed Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n and Jonathan were both nearing their orgasm, their bodies moving together frantically. Their breath came in short gasps, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as they moved together towards the brink.

Jonathan looked down at Y/n, his member pulsing with excitement as he whispered, “Come for me.”

Y/n cried out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. Her breath came rapidly, her inner muscles pulsing around him as she came to her ultimate release. With Y/n’s orgasm, Jonathan could barely hold back. He squirted is cum deep inside of Y/n’s cunt, filling her hot cavern.

Jonathan sighed, his lips finding the soft expanse of Y/n's forehead, leaving a lingering sweetness in the air. With a gentle ease, he settled down beside her, drawing her delicate form into the comforting embrace of his arms. The world outside seemed to fade away as the warmth between them created a sanctuary, and for a moment, time stood still.

Y/n's smile radiated in the aftermath, their bodies glistening with the shared exertion. "So... how about we indulge in the bath together this time?" she proposed, a playful glint in her eyes.

"That sounds absolutely perfect, my Dear," Jonathan replied.

Jonathan's arms, held Y/n securely as he lifted her off the bed and descent down the stairs. Each step taken with a deliberate grace, he seemed to effortlessly carry her weight. As he entered the bathroom, the light played on the contours of their entwined bodies.

Once in the bathroom, he lowered Y/n down on the edge of the bath. Their eyes locked, sharing an unspoken connection that spoke volumes. The room filled with a gentle hum as he turned on the faucet, the water slowly filling the bath.

Jonathan, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, his fingers traced the edges of Y/n's lingerie, hooking onto the fabric delicately. The room was filled with the soft echoes of water, the ambiance saturated with an intimate warmth.

As his hands began to peel away the lace and silk that adorned Y/n's body, a silent exchange of sensations unfolded. Each gentle movement, deliberate and unhurried, spoke volumes about the connection they shared. Y/n's skin, now exposed to the ambient glow of the bathroom, seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Jonathan adjusted the temperature, holding his hand under the stream, testing the temperature. The inviting warmth of the water welcomed them as Jonathan carefully lowered Y/n into the bath, their bodies meeting the comforting embrace of the liquid sanctuary. He followed, seamlessly joining her in the tranquil pool. The water rippled gently, mirroring the serenity that enveloped the room.

As Y/n settled back against Jonathan's chest, the warmth of the bath enveloping them. The steam from the water curled around them, creating an intimate atmosphere that mirrored the connection they shared.

“You like the bath?” Y/n asked.

“I do, I like it very much. Such a handy little thing you are,” Jonathan said.

Jonathan's lips found solace on her temple, planting a tender kiss that echoed the affection between them. Y/n, in her attempt to find a more comfortable position, earned a groan of protest from Jonathan.

"Easy there," he teased, holding her securely around the waist. Y/n laughed, the sound echoing in the bathroom, mingling with the gentle flow of water.

"It hasn't even been 5 minutes!" she exclaimed, enjoying the playful banter.

"Well, it doesn't have to be with you," Jonathan murmured, his grip tightening slightly, the subtle embrace reflecting a silent promise of closeness in every moment they shared.

Y/n teasingly rubbed her ass against Jonathan's hard dick, eliciting a groan of pleasure from the man beneath her. Y/n couldn't help but laugh as she watched the effect she was having on Jonathan. His moans of pleasure only turned her on more.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Y/n's hips and held her still, his voice strained. “Stop teasing me.”

“Fine, I won’t tease you!” Y/n said.

Y/n's hand curled around the base of Jonathan's dick, guiding it inside her slick pussy. He had no time to think before her was inside of her again, his head falling back. He felt his cock slide past her tight entrance and into the warmth that awaited him. She was so wet, and he could feel how much she wanted him as he thrust up into her.

Y/n's grip on the side of the bath tightened as she rode Jonathan, her hips moving in a smooth motion that drove him wild. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her body sliding up and down his dick.

Jonathan couldn't help but tease Y/n as she rode him. “You're so horny, fucking me in the bath” he said, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n grinned as she looked down at Jonathan, his face flushed with pleasure. “Don't complain,” she said playfully. 'You're the one getting to fucking me.'

Y/n was right. It was Jonathan who couldn't get enough of her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he thrust into her with a ferocity that left them both panting. She could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge.

The water in the bath was splashing around them, creating a sense of intimacy that only added to the heat of the moment. They moved together as one, their bodies twisting and turning in a dance of pleasure.

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to kiss Y/n's back. He moved her hair aside, his lips trailing along her spine and up to her shoulder blade as she bounced on his dick. Y/n couldn't help but shiver as Jonathan's lips left a trail of fire along her skin.

Jonathan couldn't help but growl as he felt Y/n's tight pussy clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into her ear.

Y/n couldn't help but moan as she felt Jonathan's words shoot straight to her core. She tightened around him, her body demanding more of the intense pleasure he was giving her.

Jonathan couldn't help but feel his cock pulse with excitement as he felt Y/n's body clench around him. He knew he was close, and the thought of how good it would feel to come inside her only made him move faster.

Y/n couldn't resist the urge to tease Jonathan. “Come for me, Dr. Crane” she purred, her voice low and sultry.

Jonathan couldn't hold back any longer. He felt his cock jerk violently as he came, his body shuddering with pleasure as he emptied himself inside Y/n. His cum filled her walls as her cunt squeezed every last drop out of her.

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to make Y/n feel even better. He moved his hand between their bodies, rubbing her clit with a gentle but firm pressure that made her gasp and moan. Y/n's body tightened around Jonathan as she felt the first waves of pleasure wash over her. She cried out his name, her voice filled with ecstasy.

Y/n's breaths lingered in the steam-filled air as she reclined against Jonathan in the warm bath. The ripples of water played a delicate symphony around them, echoing the harmonious cadence of their intertwined bodies.

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, pressed a tender kiss onto Y/n's shoulder, savoring the closeness between them. As Y/n pulled his dick out of her, watching as his cum too came out with it.

Y/n couldn't resist a cheeky comment, "Mhmm, I love bathing in cum water!" she exclaimed, playfully splashing the remnants of their shared experience.

Jonathan's expression tightened slightly. "Don't say that, that's disgusting," he spoke gently, attempting to maintain his composed demeanor.

"You were thinking it!" Y/n retorted with a mischievous grin, her playful banter dancing through the steam.

"I can assure you, I most definitely was not," Jonathan asserted, a subtle smirk betraying a trace of amusement beneath his composed exterior.

Y/n chuckled, her laughter echoing in the intimate space. "Let's get out now, before I lose control again," she suggested with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Jonathan nodded in agreement, his patience still intact. He patiently waited for Y/n to stand up first, a gesture of chivalry that spoke volumes about his nature. Once she was on her feet, he rose from the bath as well, extending a hand to assist her in stepping out, her legs weak from their intimate moment. The quiet tenderness between them lingered in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of the deeper connection they were exploring.

Jonathan wrapped a plush towel around Y/n's body, the soft fabric clinging to her curves. The air was thick with a mixture of steam and the sweet afterglow of their shared bath. With a gentle touch, he began to rub her arms, the towel absorbing the remaining droplets from her skin. Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the tender moment, feeling Jonathan's careful attention.

Suddenly, with a playful turn, she faced him, her eyes sparkling. She grabbed another towel and, to his surprise, started helping him dry down. His eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, a hint of vulnerability touching his expression. In that moment, their laughter mingled, creating a melody that resonated with the newfound intimacy between them.

In the bathroom, Jonathan experienced an unusual warmth within himself. Y/n had achieved the seemingly impossible, making Jonathan Crane feel cared for and, dare he admit it, beautiful. The residue of the bathwater clung to their skin as they made their way back upstairs, unencumbered by the weight of clothing.

Lying in bed, their naked forms tucked beneath the covers, they faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Y/n wore an infectious smile that seemed to radiate joy.

Jonathan, curious about the source of her happiness, asked, “Why are you smiling so much?”

The laughter bubbled from Y/n as she replied, “Because... I’m happy.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and pressed further, “I get that much, but what has you so happy?”

Her answer was simple yet profound, “You trust me…”

As the words hung in the air, Jonathan allowed the realization to settle within him. Yes, he did trust her. In that moment, Y/n had succeeded where others had failed, creating a space where Jonathan could be comfortable in his own skin. Moved by the significance of the moment, he kissed her forehead, silently expressing gratitude for the newfound connection.

“Go to sleep, my Dear,” Jonathan whispered, his voice a gentle caress.

Y/n nodded, allowing her eyes to drift shut. In the quiet embrace of the room, she inched closer to Jonathan, seeking the reassuring warmth of his presence. His breath caught momentarily, a subtle reaction to the newfound closeness, before steadying again. It was a moment of vulnerability for Jonathan Crane, a man more accustomed to fear than comfort.

He felt safe. For once in his life, he was encircled by a sense of security in the company of another person. As the night enveloped them, Jonathan held her close, his protective embrace a silent promise. Their breathing synchronized, and in the cocoon of each other's arms, they succumbed to the gentle pull of sleep.

A/N: So proof reading this, I noticed I repeated a lot of things, but decided to ignore them 💀 because it really doesn't matter and doesn't change much of the story. I took a LOT of breaks between writing so forgot what I had written and just continued blindly.

I made Jonathan insecure and shit because I was basing him mostly off himself in the comics rather than Cillian Murphy, although, I use him for like everything else. I just love comic book!Jonathan Crane.

I hoped you enjoyed this part and look forward to the next part, whenever that might be. 💚

#fanfic #smut #obsessive jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane #cillian murphy scarecrow #scarecrow #batman scarecrow #dc scarecrow #the scarecrow #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy

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elysiantrait · 7 months

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📍19 Culpepper House, San Myshuno

Haisley and Amelia have decided to start out their YA lives moving into an apartment together in San Myshuno. 🤍

~ Next

Haisley y Amelia han decidido empezar sus vidas como adultas jóvenes mudándose juntas a un apartamento en San Myshuno. 🤍

I have mentioned before that I want to do the Sims in Bloom challenge in my #manifoldsave, so this is a prelude to that! I love these two girlies and I want their future child to be my heir/founder to the challenge. I didn't want to just wait until they have said child and then that child becomes a YA to start posting gameplay on the challenge so these "sib prelude" posts will cover their lives and of the future heir until the latter becomes a YA. These will be posted sporadically along side my Time Of Your Life and Into The Forest gameplays. I hope you enjoy them all as much as me!

He mencionado antes que quiero jugar el desafío Sims in Bloom en mi #manifoldsave así que esto es un preludio para eso! Amo mucho ha estas chicas y quiero que su futuro bebé sea el fundador del desafío. No quería esperar hasta que el bebé fuera adulto para empezar a postear sobre su familia en el blog así que estoy empezando con estos "sib preludio" publicaciones para cubrir sus vidas juntas y, por supuesto, las de el futuro fundador ó fundadora. Estas se publicarán esporádicamente junta con mis jugadas de Time Of Your Life e Into The Forest. ¡Espero que los disfruten todos tanto como yo!

#ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 #los sims 4 #simblr #SimsInBloom #sims in bloom #sib prelude #manifoldsave #elysiantrait #*haisley jean #*amelia miranda by tulipsimss #I played around with some lamp shaders in these pics #I love the depth it adds to the scenes so we'll see #if I keep using them in the future

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discordantwritings · 4 months

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Rock Hard (Rock Band! Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 2. The Vocalist

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist

Warnings: afab gn!reader, facesitting, PiV sex, slightly subby Buggy, I know the title says cross guild but this part is just Buggy

WC: 2.4k

Summary: You will not fall to the clown’s charms you will not fall to the clown’s charms you will not-

Oh shit you fell for the clown’s charms.

Notes: Finally found an excuse to write facesitting lets goooooo

You were less of a manager to Buggy and more of a babysitter. If you could get away with getting him one of those child backpack leashes you would. Within a week you got the passwords to all his social media so you could stop him from posting dumb shit like “I wish my dick could detach” and “I could fist fight The Rock and win, give me a date and time”. It was exhausting. Hilarious, but exhausting.

It would be worse if he wasn’t so damn charming. Ever time you find yourself getting mad at him he would grovel and bat his frustratingly perfect eyelashes at you and all the anger you have fizzles out. It was a game you played- Buggy tested your limits and then you reigned him in before he could do any lasting damage. You’d get mad, he’d get cute, and then you went back to the beginning.

It would be worse if he didn’t do such good work. Buggy was the only band member you could get to do any sort of press (Crocodile and Mihawk claimed that that was what Buggy was there for, so they didn’t have to talk to the public) so you had to lean on him heavily for public relations. It turned out not to be a problem though because he could charm just about anyone. Even the most cynical of interviewers would be at least softened by Buggy’s crazy stories and silly jokes by the end of their time.

And that’s what you’re watching now at The Cross Guild office. You got this interview on the the interviewers misguided thought that he could run into Crocodile or Mihawk. Jokes on him, you planned this for a day neither of them were in the office. Because of that the interviewer came into the set annoyed, and Buggy shot you a look from where he was sat. You shrug and give him a thumbs up as the cameras begin to roll.

Watching him turn on the charm was mesmerizing. The way he leans in towards the interviewer and smiles, the way he never backs down from a question or accusation, the silly physical gags he manages to weave into a normal conversation, it’s all so impressive. After about an hour the production finally wraps up and Buggy bounds over to you.

“He was an ass.” He whispers to you and you nudge him on the shoulder.

“Can’t you wait a few minutes.” You eye the interviewer who is still in the room.

“Can we just go back to my office and debrief or whatever so I can go home?” Buggy says in almost a whine.

“Yeah, yeah.” You follow behind him through the hallways until you get to his office.

Gaudy is the best word to describe his office, right next to messy and a fire hazard. No piece of furniture is the same color and various rugs and discarded clothes cover the floor. You’re bound to trip over something before you leave but for now you find your way safely to a chair to go over the events of today and what’s on the schedule for tomorrow.

“So we did three interviews today, tomorrow we have a meet and greet and then a radio show. And then-“ You look up to see Buggy on his neon green couch and on his phone. “You’re not listening to me.”

“No I am!” He says, not looking up from his phone.

“Then what’s on the docket tomorrow?”

“… more talking.” He clicks his phone off, knowing he’s been caught.

“Look, seriously I just need five more minutes of your attention and then you can do whatever. You’ve knocked it out of the park today, so I just need to keep that going until this press wave is over.”

Buggy pauses and smiles wide. “I knocked it out of the park?”

You sigh. It was hard giving Buggy any kind of praise, the way it went straight to his head. But you felt bad for the way his fellow band members treated him- like he had no redeeming qualities. “You did good today Buggy.”

He stands up and walks over to you holding out a hand, indicating for you to stand up. Confused but curious you do, and are pulled up close to him. “Now see, if you just kept telling me how good of a job I’ve been doing I’d pay attention all the time.”

You did your best not to react at how close you are to him- keeping your breath even and hoping there was no flush to your cheeks. “But then it would all get to your head and I might have to knock you down a few pegs.”

“I don’t know about you- but that sounds like fun to me.” One of Buggy’s hands skirts over your hip while he gets somehow impossibly closer to you.

“Buggy.” You say sternly, a warning.

“What?” He stops moving, one eyebrow raised.

“I know playing around is fun for you, and you’re not serious, but nothing even close to this can happen.”

“And what is this?” He’s clearly feigning ignorance and you put your hand on his chest and push.

“Nothing.” The word comes out a bit more hurt than you would have liked it to sound. Of course Buggy picks up on it.

“It doesn’t have to be nothing. I know you say I’m not serious but-“ He opens his arms. “I like you.”

“You like a lot of people.” You fire back, jabbing your pointer finger into his chest.

“Maybe that’s true. But c’mon we could have so much fun together.” He steps back closer, your finger digging deeper. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Embarrassment quickly colors your features as he hits the truth right on the head. Of course you’ve thought about it. The way he looks at you, the charm he has, his voice, the way you quickly counted him as your friend here. You really wondered what that stupid mouth could do but admitting that you fantasized about him? “No.”

“You’re an awful liar.” Buggy calls you out, brushing an errant hair behind your ear. “Now c’mon, I’ll even let you knock me down a few pegs.”

It was an awful idea. The worst idea you’ve even considered. You could tell Buggy no one more time and you know he’d respect your choice. But both of you know your heart isn’t in your reflections. Kissing him, doing anything with him as a bad idea.

So of course you grab him by his shirt collar and pull him in for a kiss. He’s shocked for a second- like he can’t believe all that stuff he said actually worked- but quickly melts into the kiss. His hands find your hips and he pulls you flush to him as he tries to take control. But you’re not going to let him win that easy.

You walk forward, forcing him to take steps back until his legs hit the couch. You finally break away from the kiss, panting and grinning wide. Placing your hand on his chest you lightly push and Buggy gets the message, sitting down and letting you crawl onto his lap. He looks up at you, eyes wide and pupils dilated and you want to ruin him.

You kiss him again, aggressive and greedy as your hands hold onto his shoulders for balance. Buggy’s hands, still at your hips, pull you down so he can grind up into you. You gasp as you feel Buggy’s hardness against you through layers of clothing. Bringing your mouth down you kiss along his neck as he continues to grind up into you, small whines leaving his chest.

You lose yourself for a while, switching between his neck and mouth while you grind against each other like horny teenagers. But it’s not enough and you’re starting to get a bit frustrated.

“Hey Bug.” You bite at his earlobe.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Wanna be knocked down a peg still?” Your hands travel his chest as he nods furiously. You stand up and Buggy is clearly disappointed but you motion to the floor. “Lay on your back for me?” You ask sweetly, undoing the buttons on your pants.

You barely finish your sentence before he’s eagerly sliding off the couch and onto the ground exactly like you asked. He props himself up by his elbows though to watch you, and you decide to give him a good show. You face him as you unzip your zipper and grab at your waistband but then turn around and bend over slightly as you drag them down over your ass and legs. You can’t see Buggy’s face but you can hear him groan as your pants and panties are taken down in one motion. Turning back you step out of your pants and get on your knees over him, straddling his chest.

“Can I sit on your face?” You ask sweetly, smiling down at him.

Buggy’s pupils are blown out, almost none of that bright sea green remain. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your thighs and pulls you up closer to his face. You can’t help but chuckle as you help him out, sitting up on your knees as you position yourself right over him.

“Fuck- I mean- goddamn-“ Buggy curses and you wish you could still see his face. “Please cmon just sit baby-“

Not wanting to wait either you lower yourself and the second you so Buggy dives in. There’s nothing neat or slow or thought out about the way Buggy eats you out but fuck if it isn’t good. His tongue works its way inside you quickly as his hands dig into your thighs. As he haphazardly goes between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your clit you have to lean forward and use the couch for balance. You start to get dizzy with pleasure and end up focusing a lot of your energy on staying up and not actually sitting on Buggy, which he seems to notice.

He breaks away from you and you whine but hear his voice. “Just sit on me baby- I’ll be fine please cmon-“

He sounds just as dazed as you and the lust and whine in his voice make you relent, fully relaxing and focusing on the pleasure he was giving you. As his tongue finds your entrance again you grind down, rubbing your clit against his nose. Your moans fills the room as you chase your pleasure and use his face to get yourself off. While one hand stays on the couch to keep you balanced the other goes to Buggy’s head, gripping his hair and tugging.

“‘M close Bug-“ You manage through gasps.

Buggy doesn’t let up- one of his hands comes down to join his tongue inside you, filling you up more while you grind on him. The edges of your vision go white as your orgasm flood over you, slick gushing onto Buggy’s face as you ride it out. When the high is over you slide yourself off of his face and lay down next to him. As you do you see that Buggy’s hand is shoved down his pants and he’s grinding up into his palm.

“Fuck- you been getting off on eating me out?” Your voice is breathy and needy.

“Fucking of course.” He says and you finally get a good look at his face- slick from your juices and completely fucked out. You can’t help but capture his lips in another needy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Snaking your own hand down you grab his wrist, gently pulling it out of his pants. He whines but you quickly shush him.

“Need you inside me- now.” You plead and Buggy wastes no time.

He sits up and shoves his pants down while you get on all fours in front of him. He growls when he sees you presented for him like this, one hand going to your hip while the other grabs his length so he can line himself up. He drags his tip through your folds, gagging up your wetness and teasing you.

“Buggy-“ You tried to be annoyed but your voice just comes out like a whine.

“Alright, alright.” Buggy finally presses into you, stretching you out as you both groan.

He takes his time, letting you adjust as he sinks into you and holds himself still for a few seconds when he bottoms out, waiting for your breathing to level out. But after that all of his patience ends. His hands grip your hips tight as he repeatedly slams into you, hitting you deep every time. You try to meet him half way, thrusting your own hips but one of Buggy’s hands leaves you hips and goes to the small of your back and pushes down- he starts hitting spots you didn’t know existed and you give into him.

You know he’s not going to last long from the way his thrusts are already stuttering- but you’re not far behind, already sensitive from the orgasm he gave you not minutes ago. He must know you’re close too, the hand on your hip leaves and travels downwards towards your clit.

“C’mon I want to feel you come all over my cock please baby-“ He babbles as his fingers work on your clit driving you closer and closer.

With one final thrust and his pleads in your ear you cum again, walls contracting around his cock and squeezing him tight. You let your front half fall to the ground as Buggy pulls out just in time to paint your folds and ass with his cum. You both sit breathless for a few moments, regaining the ability to think.

“I can’t say I feel knocked down in any sense.” Buggy comments from behind you and you whip around and hit him on the shoulder.

“Really that’s what you’re going to say?” You want to sound angry but you can’t help but laugh at his stupid grin.

“It could have been a lot worse?” Buggy offers and you just roll your eyes and loop your arms around his shoulders.

“Look- that was-“ You almost give him a compliment but think better of it. “You cannot tell anyone. Seriously.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Buggy’s arms wrap around your midsection and he pulls you in. “Seriously, I think Crocodile and Mihawk would actually literally kill me.”

Yeah.

He’s probably right.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #discordantwritings #x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #the cross guild x reader #cross guild x reader

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tremendum · 14 hours

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Me and the Devil; i

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader prelude next

word count: 5.3k

summary: Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common. Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

warnings: blood/violence, family deaath, v brief allusions to smut/dubcon, reader is traumatized. pls lmk if i missed anything. not edited.

notes: thanks for all the love so far!!! here's the first chapter of the story - if you want to stay updated, i post on AO3 first :) just a quick first chapter to lay the scene before we jump into the engaging parts of the story. feedback is very motivating and highly valued, thank u all <33

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Penitent Crimes of Retaliation

In accordance with the legal doctrine of the 'Reprisal Accord', as sanctioned by the High Court of the Landsraad, houses are granted the right to retaliate against proven offenses committed upon them. This action shall such be labelled as "Penitent Crimes of Retaliation". Under this mandate, should sufficient evidence be presented, the aggrieved house may initiate a retaliatory strike and engage in warfare against the offending party. While reparations for damages incurred during the conflict are mandated, perpetrators shall be exempt from criminal sentences, ensuring a balanced recourse within the framework of inter-house disputes."

- From the Reprisal Accord, Office of the Padishah Emperor. Imperium, 10041.

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There was once a time when green was your favorite color.

You'd enjoyed a childhood of it; Peridot, Jades, the velvet green of winter dresses, the tall, mighty green the sacred Pine. The woven banner of your house, waving in the snow-whipped wind; A snarling green wolf upon the grey armor your parents wore to train you.

When the men of one other Houses Major arrived to retrieve your older sister, she'd been shroud in that very same pine-colored satin, an elegant dress, as she waved good-bye to you for the last time. When the ice would melt off the lower glaciers for those three months every year, the lakes would thaw to a deep emerald green, and your brother, sisters and you would play in it; servants and soldiers alike yelling and pulling you out, shivering to your bones.

Even at your sister's funeral. The green of the casket, laid to rest in the ground of a foreign planet by a man who'd never truly loved her. The women of your House, wearing a veil of mourning in that sacred pine satin as you said good-bye to her. Killed by the birth of her first; a son. Your parents had been proud - You became the oldest of your siblings that day.

You can barely stand to look at green anymore. No, instead, you mostly see black.

Black, white, and red.

They'd sent you away to make for your house a Fortune; a son, they'd wished, for your sake - and, by whispers of your Lady Mother, a daughter - but this place... it crawls with shadows and monsters and deadly smiles; most in the form of your betrothed.

Your na-Baron.

If Feyd-Rautha ever had a semblance of hesitancy, it was when you first met four years ago. You were at the end of your seventeenth year; he, freshly eighteen. He had been as cordial as you'd ever seen him, escorting you with an arm held out, eyes malicious but mouth less than offensive. He'd even called you Lady Bourbon those first few months on Giedi Prime. And, in fact, you can consider yourself lucky; perhaps for your bloodline, or for you yourself, Feyd-Rautha took special care of you. Maybe he did care for you -in the ways that he could.

After that, he taught you all you needed to know about the rest of the world. In these final days together, he has admitted furiously that he waited too long to claim you as his wife - four years was much too long for you to wait, even if your purity was claimed by him long before then.

The accusations had come from his uncle, the Baron; House Bourbon was stealing their precious refinery codes, committing treason against the trading accords along their exportation route. Perhaps, he thought, you were the one to plot it against your beloved future family.

But Feyd-Rautha knew better - knew that you'd never dare betray him. He was the one to demand a public execution of your family - but also the one to redirect your sentencing to a mere prisoner. As if you weren't one already.

Don't look away. See what we do to scum, my pet?

After all the sparring, each time you drew that precious blood from him, and you still haven't been able to kill him. If you'd had a blade, you would have, right there in the stands.

You were, in some ways, relieved when their bodies had hit the sand fast; You'd never seen your brother's skin so reflective as you did this morning. The black sun couldn't hide the blood that had seeped from him, nor from your mother's throat. You'd swallowed thickly, wishing you could look away, gasp - cry; but you had to hide your pain. Your na-Baron would've loved it too much.

Why don't you leave me with them, then? You'd hissed through your teeth.

Though he was wild and psychotic, growling with hunger at the bloodsport in front of him, he heard you for what you'd said. Feyd's fingers pulled your hair hard; forcing your chin to stare up at him. A sickly glint in the black sun, his teeth shone with hunger.

You'd have me throw you to your Wolves, and lose my prize? He'd tutted, kissing your forehead with a sickening sweetness; enough so that the servants had turned away their spider-black gazes. They didn't care much for the acts of affection you'd occasionally show one another - in a world marred by ugliness, any glimpse of beauty becomes a hauntingly grotesque show of power.

He'd snarled, slapping your cheek hard enough for you to groan. His breath hit your face, you're mine to keep - there's plenty of life left for you to serve.

He'd held your eyes open as they'd slit your father's throat; then both of your sisters, and your brother's. Your mother had fought as much as she could in her drugged state - the Harkonnens are rutheless, and Feyd-Rautha had sat calmly behind you, your head in his hands, caressing your shaking cheek - but the neckline of her gown was too high, and too thickly inlaid with encrusted heirlooms.

Bless their voided souls.

The emeralds that tore from her gown as she'd spilled her blood to the sand sent a ripple of pain out of your throat. Feyd had buried his face in your neck, teeth sharp as he sucked a mark just behind your ear, watching as you clenched your palms so hard, your own ruby blood beaded out, blackened in the sun's light.

If anybody would have bothered to look before burning the bodies, you know they'd find all the family diamonds sewn into the fabric of their clothing - centuries of your House, melted away.

Feyd-Rautha had drank up your agony with his lips, smiling as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Now, alone and away from the thick industrial air, your chambers are cold and suffocating.

There are screams coming from the hall - not the kind that you've grown to associate with your na-Baron testing his new blades, but the kind that comes with danger. With change.

As it turns out, you are not Feyd-Rautha's to keep any longer.

A loud noise outside of your quarters jolts you from your bed, whispering to yourself. They're coming for you. Pulling the sheets closer to your body, your hand finds the blade gifted to you on your nameday three years ago by your husband-to-be, still tainted with the ghost of your own blood.

Your whispers reverberate in the empty room. "I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me."

Your voice shakes. Few things remain from your early days of training, before you were sent off to become a Harkonnen; This is one is a relic.

There is a loud noise just outside; blades.

For a moment, you imagine there is a hand on your arm. It is strong, ghost-white, and possessive. His voice rumbles in your head. Don't look so sad, my pet. I will never let them keep what is mine. I will find you again.

You almost wish he will.

When you look down to the weight on your arm, you do not find the hand of your once-betrothed, but the remainder of his ownership, a handprint of a bruise that will not fade even as the soldiers in Atreides armor deliver you to the next planet.

You rise from your bed, preparing your sore body for a fight that will surely end before it even starts. You don't stop your old prayer, in fact, you hardly notice that you're saying it at all. Even as the doors give in.

"-and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing - only I will remain-" There are soldiers that burst through.

The way one of them fights strikes a faint memory from a lost childhood, and it fills you with rage.

Why did you wait so long to rescue me?

You lunge, snarling like the wild beast you've become in your captivity. You will fight, because that is the only thing you know how to do. It is the only thing you have left.

Your blade falls within minutes.

You're taken by the man from your past not a minute after.

You're on a ship, watching the black Opiuchi B disappear, in an hour.

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"My Lady."

You don't realize the worker addresses you until you snap out of it, flushing behind your veil as you step out of the aircraft.

The dress you wear, salvaged from your family's old castle, is dusty.

It clings to your skin, drowns you, as the rain falls. A staff of House Atreides holds an umbrella above you, shielding your elaborate dress from the water as you walk up towards where the members of the House await you. You stare down at the dress - green velvet. A texture you have not felt in years; your skin looks different not wrapped completely in black.

Your eyes strain to take in the grand entrance to the castle from the hangar which Duncan Idaho had escorted you, ignoring him as he turns to glance back at you momentarily. You can't bear the look of unfamiliarity that flickers over him when he looks at you, now.

He looks the same - maybe less tall, but that has more to do with it having been six years since you last saw the man. You, however, are not the same girl you were when he knew you on Sabberon. Fear, panic, and wrath rage within you while your gaze smolders daggers at the back of his head.

He walks just slightly in front of you and despite yourself, you slide just a bit closer - the only semblance of comfort you can allow yourself to feel as you take in the largess of the castle. The air is thicker here than you've ever felt; salty, windy, like you can taste the sea in the rain... it clings to your skin, but it feels clean. You'd been changing into your robes when you entered atmo - you've heard many things about the ocean, about Caladan.

Something within you yearns to witness it yourself. Subtly, you crane your neck outwards to catch a glimpse; nothing in the near distance but the walls of the castle and high cliffs.

You nearly trip as Duncan Idaho stops just a few paces from where the members stand at attention to greet you and your retinue.

Duke Leto Atreides, regal and composed, stands at the center of the room, his presence commanding your attention. Beside him, a woman wearing a deep cerulean gown - Lady Jessica. Easily, from behind your own veil, her gaze penetrates you; A cool sensation down your spine as you seem to feel her words in the back of your head as she watches the Reverend Mother who'd travelled with you per High Court orders.

Hello, sister.

You purse your lips, looking on - there, next to his mother; Standing tall with an aura of quiet intensity, his eyes on you, is Paul Atreides.

The son to whom you're now destined.

Even from your obstructed vision, you can see that he's handsome - lithe, hair curled and combed back to show his eyes. They are wide, penetrating like his mother's, but Maker, they are so green.

There is no hunger in his eyes, nor hatred, nor anything but a mild curiosity; it strikes a chord of fear in your gut, wishing briefly to return to the na-Baron's sight. It was easy to go unseen with the Harkonnens; They always made their intentions clear, and the na-Baron never wanted many to see you besides himself. You always knew what he wanted, and you could give it to him enough to control him.

But Paul. His stare betrays no emotion but duty. If not for the boyish pout of his pink lips and his freshly-shaven jaw, you could have mistaken him for his father. A Duke.

Your name, boomed from the voice of Leto Atreides, pulls you back to the surface of Caladan. "Welcome." Duke Leto's voice resonates through the hall with authority as he addresses you, his tone measured yet warm. Your stomach twists and turns as the man nods courteously to you. Coaxing your body to move, you bow to him.

"We are honored by your presence." His voice is surprisingly humane, exceedingly polite towards you; someone who was just come from the protection (a laughable phrase) of their sworn enemy.

Your throat tightens at this. There is no honor to your presence, not anymore.

Though you feel the prickling behind your eyes, you force your head to tilt in acknowledgment, schooling your expression to respectful - perhaps they can't quite make out your face, but Lady Jessica watches closely. She sees.

You take a sharp breath, swallowing away the lump of emotion in your throat.

"Thank you, Duke Leto, my lord." Your voice carries steel beneath its polite, quiet veneer, though you try to calm your heart. You turn to Lady Jessica to greet her.

"My Lady, it is a pleasure." You say, equally even. Lady Jessica offers a tight smile, something akin to understanding swimming among her irises. It's been quite some time since you were permitted to talk to a woman; Your servants on Giedi Prime were, of course, tongue-less, as na-Baron wished. "Thank you for welcoming me to your home."

"We understand that these are trying times for you." She says softly, her words a gesture of solidarity as your legs stagger. You feel dizzy and tired, but you force yourself to nod, bowing again. Your chained headdress overlaying your veil chimes slightly with the movement, swaying with the rain.

For such an acclaimed House, you're surprised by the gentleness of their welcome. Perhaps, they'd thought that the groaning and echoing hallways of Giedi Prime might break you, that they'd be taking in some injured little dove, wings clipped by the ferocious boy who'd gifted her with a knife plunged between her ribs on her nameday.

The scar that lies just below your breast on your right side serves not as a reminder, but as fuel. It did not quell your spark. It ignited it, with a bloodthirsty rage for revenge.

Months of being thrown into a pit under the glaring black sun; Not the arena that assassinated your family, no - this pit was smaller, with one large seat for the na-Baron himself, and drugged concubines and servants with blades to service his na-Baroness. A place to watch his pets play.

Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common.

Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

Lady Jessica is correct, these are trying times for you. You swallow as you straighten your back. Despite everything, there's a minor comfort in the Atreides' insistence of providing you with the necessities for you to perform your traditional customary mourning traditions. Your family may be gone, but you can still have this part of them; as a way of saying good-bye. It's what they would have wanted.

You turn to the young man who stands next to Lady Jessica.

The Harkonnens had tried to show you the dangers of house Atreides; The poison of appearance, of trust. You are not foolish enough to have believed the Baron Vladimir and his webs of deception, but you are sharp enough to know that in times like these, nobody can be trusted.

Your betrothed watches you, as if trying to see through your mourning veil. The green of his eyes sends a warmth through your stomach as you avert your eyes. "My Lord," you bow to him, your heart thumping in your chest, remembering how you might be rewarded for looking your formerly betrothed in the eyes during ceremony. Trying not to flinch, you wait to see what Paul's hands may do. But they do not strike you, nor grasp your jaw sharply. He barely moves.

"My Lady." His voice is softer than you expected, and it strikes your heart with a cool unease. Distrust slithers around you like a daunting snake. He bows back to you.

It's silent for a thick moment before Duncan Idaho - the man from a distant past - speaks from beside you. "We have much to discuss."

Cutting to the chase, as always. Your eyes fall to the Duke, who nods. "Do you need to see treatment?" He asks the Swordsman, eyes assessing the soldier.

Duncan laughs at this, gesturing to his arm, where beads of blood still slowly peeks through his the tunic he'd slipped on after changing out of his armor.

"Harkonnen blades are sharp. So are Lady Bourbon's nails."

The prickling of four pairs of eyes strike you as he continues, turning this time to address you full-on. "Your fighting is much different than I remember, Little Bourbon."

What he doesn't say is clear to you: Much more savage than he remembers. Something between shame and pride licks at your cheeks and you avert your eyes; It had been a force of habit - rabid hounds don't tuck tail when cornered, do they?

You clench your hand, your nails digging into your palms; you learned early on that sharper claws could keep Feyd tame for longer.

The force of Duncan's old nickname for you, when you'd been young - it nearly knocks the air out of your chest. It's been over half a decade since you'd seen the man; too much has happened since then. Nonetheless, you smile toothless behind the veil, trying not to think of the life you'd just left behind. Of what cold life lies ahead.

When you respond, your voice is frigid.

"Sometimes adaptation is survival, Duncan Idaho. Threats demand evolution."

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The rain is gone by the next day.

In the morning room, forks scrape over blue-plated China. There must be a clock somewhere near, as the seconds pass in quiet, insistent ticks. A cleared throat, a swallow of water.

Your eyes burn from exhaustion.

Your arrival last night held no such time for small talk - you were whisked away by the service staff to make sure your quarters were comfortable; Your old clothing and that of your sisters and mother - the few things the Atreides soldiers had salvaged from the ransacked Castle at Sabberon - had been washed thrice of rubble and smoke and were hanging, waiting for you, in the wardrobes.

Barely awake, late in the evening, you'd attended a meeting in a small conference hall. There, sat across from Lord Paul, Masters of War and Swords and Strategy, a Mentat, and the Lady Jessica, the Duke had asked you questions, ensuring you were not harmed - more importantly, trying to ensure there was no malicious intent to your presence. Your eyes could not ignore the Lady Jessica, who stood behind the Duke, her fingers twitching to the others when you responded to a question asked of you. They had some kind of language, you'd realized, as they responded in their own subtle hand gestures.

You'd only been there for ten minutes before you were escorted by a handmaid back to your chambers, where you sat without rest through the night.

Truthfully, you're breaking fast with Lady Jessica and Lord Paul out of courtesy; You were up far before the sun had found the horizon this morning, staring emotionless at the ghost who stood in the corner of your new chambers.

You'd sat watching, cradling your chest with wide eyes, as the ghost slid onto his knees. How he'd crawled, smirking at the foot of your mattress, whispering to you with sharp teeth and beckoning fingers. The sweet promise in his eyes laid with blood and pain, coaxing you forward despite yourself - until something in the corner of your vision moved, and you'd screamed.

That had woken one of the servants.

She came in with her head tilted down, holding a pitcher of water, and you'd asked her to stay.

Her name is Hestia; she must barely be twenty. You insisted on sharing a pot of tea with her, sitting in the silence but sipping shortly on your teacups. You didn't talk much, but instead breathed and felt the safety and of a woman's company, even if she is a few years younger than you.

It wasn't until she'd brought you breakfast a few minutes later that you realized the staff must have been informed of your courting customs before your arrival - she said nothing as you ate silently, staring out towards the coast of rocky cliffs and rolling moors you could just barely make out from your chamber windows.

And now you sit similarly - in the morning dining room, your hands perched in your lap, unsure what to do with yourself.

Your future husband, no older than yourself, sits across the table from you now, pushing his omelet around on his fork. The table shakes just slightly, jilting your glass full of water - he must have a restless knee. He chews at his lip, avoiding your stare, sharing slight conversation with his Lady mother. Her attempts to bring you into the conversation are met with polite answers and more silence, your voice shaky and cold.

After a while, a woman enters, whispers something to the Lady at the end of the table. Nodding, Lady Jessica takes her leave with a pointed look at Paul, suggesting he might escort you around the castle to settle you in.

Though your stomach coils, you nod, "-if you have time, my Lord, I'd appreciate it."

His eyes find yours from behind the veil and you clear your throat. He's quiet but chivalrous; A nod, a glance sent back to his mother as she leaves. A short gust of air through the room and suddenly you can smell him. His hair, clean and glossy - healthy - glints as he faces a window, exposing the early morning sun to his bright eyes.

It's silent for a few moments as only the two of you remain; Your food untouched and his half-eaten.

"Are you one of them?"

Them?

You stare at him from behind the thin pine veil that covers you. It occurs to you that Paul may assume you are just as bald and sick as each Harkonnen; years of adapting, surviving off of instinct and placation, are over. With a jolt, you realize you are not a Harkonnen. And you will not be wed to one.

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of chains upon the crown of your head today, ignoring the melancholy feeling in your gut.

"I have hair." You state simply, looking down at the skin of your arm; The skin that boasts arm hair, none of the sickly pale skin that knew of no clean air nor healthy sunlight - your skin, glowing with real melanin like the House of Bourbon.

You'd never spoken this freely on Giedi Prime besides in the sole company of Feyd-Rautha - stars, you'd never have spoken this freely at home on Sabberon, either - but there is no home anymore. And if you've learned one thing in your years since coming of age, its that the Great and Noble Houses of the Landsraad are crawling with perjurers, fabricators.

Paul is likely the same.

If the Atreides boy must be wed to you, you cannot help that, just as you couldn't help with Feyd-Rautha. They can dress you, insist in your traditional customs - but you will not go down easy. No matter how cold the home, you can be colder. You are more than the bones which hold you up; Meaner than the demons that kept you in their ghostly-grip for four years.

His cheeks flush a peculiar pink, bottom lip captured between pearly teeth. "No," he starts again, eyes searching - trying to find you, beneath the layers of green that wrap around you. "Not Harkonnen-" he quiets after he says the name, as if worried to offend you. "I meant-" his eyes swim, "Bene Gesserit."

Your stomach chills as you meet his eyes.

After some hesitation, you shake your head. "No, my Lord."

When he blinks at your words, you feel compelled to continue. "I suppose I was..." you move your hand to pull on the sleeve of your robes.

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"or, I was supposed to be." your unemotional tone rings through the room. Paul doesn't say anything to that, biting back the suspicion that climbs up his throat.

He stands when you rise from your seat; Your mourning dress, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, flows like the leaves of a weeping willow as you push your chair in behind you. When he offers a stiff arm to escort you out of the room, you hesitate before looping yourself loosely to him.

She is telling the truth.

His mother had indicated, with flicks of her hand, during the meeting the evening before; you, sat before the Atreides' council, unaware that his mother was reading your honesty.

But that could be a trick; you've admitted to being partially trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, perhaps you found a way to deceive his mother. As much as he trusts Duncan and his father, he can't shake the suspicion that you're a mere pawn in the Harkonnens' game.

But his father's words burn sharply into his mind.

Duty often requires us to navigate paths we may not have chosen for ourselves, Paul. You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future spouse. Love may come in other ways - but you will marry her, and together you will sire an heir when the time comes.

By decree, it was ordered you be wed to Paul, but he can't find it within himself to lose the feeling of distrust. He has spent hours learning about the Harkonnens - how they think, their strategy; and yet, from Duncan's account, the Baron and his nephew just let you go. It makes no sense to him.

"I was supposed to be a lot of things."

Your voice is undeniably beautiful; strong, much more resolute than he'd expected. But you are extremely cold, and evidently unwilling. Polite, yes - it seems you've been trained just as he and every other young noble of the Great Houses have - but you are calculating, aggressive.

He saw the claw marks you'd left upon Duncan; a man you've known since you were a young girl.

You walk with your chest out, back straight like a soldier; your words are cordial yet laced with steel and indifference - it only serves to deepen his unease. He guides you through the castle, murmuring quietly as he shows you along, introducing you to various members of staff who stop and bow in recognition.

You don't say much until he escorts you to a path that winds down out of your sights; Below the castle, between jagged rocks, Paul finds himself concerned to no longer be surrounded by castle walls. Beside him, you take a deep breath, your footsteps faltering as you slow to stare at moss that sprawls across the cobblestone.

Curiously, Paul slows to a stop beside you.

For a moment, you stare down at the dirt and fallen tree limbs, the grassy fields and rocks. Soon, as though an invisible string pulls you upwards, you snap your head, voice sheepish behind your veil. "Apologies, my Lord." You start to turn away. "I've read of plants like this, but never seen them before in person."

Paul is suddenly struck by the realization that you may not have seen much of any flora nor fauna on Caladan. He knows what Giedi Prime is like; and your homeworld, from what he'd read last night before bed, was mostly full of Glaciers, forests, and high altitudes. Perhaps you are interested in such things; the idea surprises him.

So instead of moving along, he finds himself bending to pull off a bit of the moss from a fallen trunk. The earthy dirt spreads between his nimble fingers, the green bright against his skin. You watch him silently.

"It absorbs up to twenty times its dry weight in water." He says it quietly, repeating what he'd learned in an ecological lesson, pushing on the spongy material with his thumb. "Banks of it grow just around the brackish tidepools outside the castle."

Your interest, piqued, causes your head to crane slightly from your short height - he can tell, even without seeing any part of your face, that you are fascinated. "Am I allowed to see?" You ask stiffly, your arms by your sides.

An initial wave of protectiveness over his home washes over him; remembering his father's words, he forces his shoulders to relax. He lets the moss fall back to the stump, brows furrowing.

"You are to be Lady Atreides, one day." He tries to school his voice evenly, avoiding any hint of resistance to this fact. "You do not have to ask permission to see your own land."

The wind from the sea whips around you; his stray curls fly in his vision. There are no words from you for several very long breaths, in which you clear your throat.

"I do not feel well, my Lord." You say moments later, voice cordial but thick with the desire to be alone, "I believe I am sick from travel. Please, if you would excuse me."

He is unsure if he had made you uncomfortable or if you are truly feeling sick; nonetheless, Paul escorts you to your chambers silently, calling one of the handmaids - Hestia, her name is - to check on you. He insists she bring you some bread and cheese, to draw you a bath if you please.

His jaw clenches; he's to train with his mother soon, but he needs release. His muscles clench in repressed frustration and so Paul lets his feet carry him swiftly to the training quarters.

His fingers itch for a blade; his mind itches to forget about the last day, about the cold life that lies ahead of him.

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #paul atreides i need you so bad #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #me and the devil; series #feyd x you #feyd smut #dune fanfiction #dune smut

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odyssean-flower · 5 months

Text

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 8 - Summer: Honeymoon Prelude

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Furina shows up and bothers Neuvillette about his marriage Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out at Dvalin's place

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“My dear Iudex, you’ve been making yourself awfully scarce lately, haven’t you?”

The doors of Neuvillette’s office doors flew open along with that voice, belonging to the last person he wanted to see right now. Of course, she chose the perfect moment to make her entrance—during his tea break, when he couldn’t use the excuse of work to force her to leave.

“Lady Furina,” he inclined his head. He had an inkling as to what this conversation was going to be about, and he had prepared himself for it. “I do not quite understand what you mean.”

“You leave the opera house as soon as possible whenever we’re both present at a trial, and your schedule is mysteriously arranged so that you’re out of the office whenever I’m free. How very odd, wouldn’t you agree? It’s almost as if you’re avoiding me, but why ever would you do that?”

Furina put her hand on her hips, a knowing smile on her face. Ah, she wishes to draw this out, Neuvillette thought, then refilled his cup and took a sip of water.

“As you know, Furina, summer is the season when crime rates skyrocket, which means a higher workload. For both of us,” Neuvillette said. “You are, of course, welcome to schedule an appointment with Sedene in the main lobby, if you wish to chat with me. We’ll do our best to accommodate you into our schedule.”

Furina raised an eyebrow. “Are you being serious right now? I’m your superior, and you answer to me, so why do I have to make an appointment to speak to you? And besides, the crime rate has always increased during the summer for the past five hundred years and probably beyond that, and yet I never had any trouble finding you for a chat...until this year. I do wonder what changed.”

“What may be the case for previous years may not be the same for the present. Now, if you will excuse me, my break is almost over.”

Furina glared at him. “You’re really going to drag this out, are you?”

Neuvillette closed his eyes and took another sip of water. “I’m afraid I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Oh, really? Playing dumb is not a good look on you, my dear Chief Justice,” Furina said, then began to walk around the office leisurely. She stopped in front of a framed painting near Neuvillette’s desk. “My, my, what’s this? A new painting in your office? When was the last time you added a new decoration to your office, fifty years ago? Although, I must say, it certainly clashes with the rest of the décor in here, with how gloomy the subject is, and the amateurish technique. Shall I suggest some excellent artists for you to commission?”

“There will be no need for that,” Neuvillette stood up and walked over to Furina, semi-blocking the painting from her view. A simple glimpse of the misty hues and the memories they evoked calmed him slightly. “You have no authority over what I choose to put in my office.”

“Oh?” Furina smirked up at him triumphantly, as though she had landed a point in a game. “So this painting is important to you, eh? Or perhaps...the artist themselves?”

Neuvillette remained silent and turned back towards his desk. He knew Furina for far too long to understand that in situations like these, ignoring her was the best way to handle her.

As he sat back down in his chair, he heard indignant footsteps follow him.

“Quit it, Neuvillette!” Furina slammed her hands down onto his desk and bent down, glaring at him. “I know you’re married!”

“Yes,” Neuvillette said. “I am. In accordance with your wishes, or should I say, orders for me.”

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?”

“What do you mean? I do not see what more there is to say regarding this topic.”

Furina stared at him incredulously, her mouth agape. “You do not see? You, the Iudex of Fontaine, do not see what more there is to say to your Archon , the one who kindly advised you to try experiencing the joys of matrimony, about your marriage ?”

“I did inform you.”

“In a single-sentence letter!” Furina slammed her hands against his desk again, causing him to wince slightly. “One of the most anticipated events in Fontaine’s history, and not even a single notice in the Steambird’s marriage announcement sections! Was there even a wedding, or did you just sign your names in the registry book?”

“The marriage was valid in the eyes of the law.”

“So you didn’t even hold a ceremony?” Furina exclaimed. “I cannot believe this, Neuvillette. The marriage of a man of your rank and status should have been a grand celebration all throughout Fontaine! There should have been a whole month of performances at the opera! Street festivals every day! A beautiful, eight-hour-long ceremony with me officiating!”

“That sounds immensely disruptive to the public order, not to mention a logistics nightmare.”

“So? At least it would be an enjoyable and memorable experience for all the citizens of Fontaine. I bet your idea of a fun celebration would be to stare at the sea for a whole day and making everyone drink your precious water, or something boring like that.”

Neuvillette said nothing. Furina, for all her faults, understood him all too well.

“As a public figure, Neuvillette, you should remember that everything you do affects them, and that they are all watching you. That doesn’t only go for judgments and the like, but also your personal matters. Don’t you think that you owe the people a small share in your newfound happiness?”

Neuvillette’s brow furrowed slightly. Though he admittedly found Furina’s logic puzzling most of the time, he did somewhat see her point, and she did have more experience than him with understanding the thinking of the people...

Furina, sensing him waver, clapped her hands together. “It’s still not too late to make this the event of the year. No, the century! I can contact the Steambird to put up a full page announcement, and we need to get started on wedding planning right away--”

“I am afraid that I must decline,” Neuvillette said, standing up and staring down at Furina. “That was a moving speech you gave, Furina, but you seemed to have forgotten one thing. You were the one who continuously insisted that I get married, but you have stipulated nothing else. A marriage is a private matter between the individuals involved, and they, and only they, have the right to decide how their marriage will be. My wife and I have mutually decided that there will be no ceremony, and we are both perfectly content with that decision.”

“ Both of you?” Furina raised an eyebrow. “How very interesting. Did both of you decide to keep this marriage so private as well?”

“Yes, we have. It was in our best interests.”

“I'm assuming there was no honeymoon as well, also mutually agreed upon by you both? Please tell me you at least took her out on a date!”

Date. Neuvillette startled at that word. He wasn’t sure why. “I have not.”

“And she is perfectly happy with this? You’ve asked her?”

“I fail to see how any of this is relevant to you. As I have told you many times, this is a personal matter between me and my wife.”

Furina shook her head with a mixture of exasperation and pity. “My dear Iudex...it appears that you have completely missed the point of why I made the suggestion for you to marry. And your choice of a bride...I don’t know how you did it, but you seemed to have perfectly matched with someone as dull as you are. Either that, or she is so completely terrified of you that she is merely going along with whatever you tell her.”

“Do not talk about her in that way. You know nothing about her,” Neuvillette gritted out, then stood and glared down at Furina once more, even as he felt seeds of doubt planted in his heart. His wife generally went along with whatever he said. He had always assumed that it was because they had similar temperaments, but could he be mistaken? This was far from the first time that he had mistaken assumptions about humans.

But Furina wasn’t intimidated in the slightest by that stern gaze, which was usually enough to strike fear into the hearts of anyone unfortunate to be on their receiving end. In fact, she let out a loud peal of laughter.

“Oh, this is just perfect!” the Hydro Archon laughed, perching herself on Neuvillette’s desk. “I’ve never seen you react like that for a human before! Your bride must truly be someone extraordinary. I must meet her!”

“No, you will not,” Neuvillette said firmly. “You wished for me to marry, and I have. My wife and I have no need for your meddling in our private lives.”

Though the marriage was a sham, though the strange new feelings that arose within him lately confused him, one singular conviction burned brightly within his heart: to protect the peace of his wife—his friend—no matter what.

As you walked out of the eleavator of the Palais Mermonia to the first floor, you saw groups of people here and there, talking animatedly about something. They were throwing frequent glances at the doors to Neuvillette’s office.

Did something happen? You wondered with not a little bit of worry. You had just left the license office on the seventh floor after asking about your position on the waiting list (you had barely progressed, but you felt a strange sense of relief upon learning that). Originally, you had planned on visiting the office every week to ask about it—you've learned from your short time dealing with the bureaucracy of the Palais that things tended to speed up considerably when you made yourself known frequently.

But recently, you found yourself less...vigilant when it came to such things. It was so easy to relax when you weren’t constantly worrying about your budget and studying rigorously, or when you were living with someone who genuinely seemed to enjoy your company, who looked you straight in the eye instead of past you at someone better.

A knot of tension that you had been carrying around for a long time loosened just a little. You only ever felt this feeling when you were reading about Remuria.

It had become much more difficult to suppress that voice in your head telling you to relax, asking you, “Don't you want more?”

For someone like you, who needed to concentrate wholeheartedly on your own future, having an idle mind was a dangerous thing.

“Sedene, is there something going on with Monsieur Neuvillette?” you asked the Melusine at the front desk, who was nervously looking at the shut doors of the office. She jumped at your voice.

“Oh, Madame!” she exclaimed in a whisper. Was it just your imagination, or did she look even more nervous. “I would highly recommend you to not visit Monsieur Neuvillette right now.”

I wasn’t going to, you thought, but didn’t say it aloud. Visiting him at work seemed to cross an invisible line. “Why not?”

Before Sedene could answer, the doors flew open, and the Hydro Archon herself marched out, looking incensed.

“Don’t you forget, Neuvillette, that I will get my way in the end,” she turned back and declared, then tossed her hair and strode right past you, presumably to her apartments. She didn’t spare a single glance at you.

Whoa. This is the first time I’ve seen Lady Furina up close. She had that same immortal, untouchable aura that Neuvillette also had. Just what you’d expect from a god.

Once she left the main floor, people began to discuss the events that had just occurred loudly and in earnest. You, however, weren’t paying any attention to them. You were looking at Neuvillette’s office, where you could see the man himself standing at his desk, staring down at it. Occasionally, he glanced at something on the wall. You couldn’t see his expression from here, but you didn’t feel you needed to. He was upset.

You looked back at Sedene almost reflexively. “Go,” she nodded encouragingly. You looked around briefly. No one was looking in your direction.

You took in a deep breath to shake off your nerves, even though this was just a simple check-in on your husband? Friend? Neither of those words felt right.

Don’t overthink this. Just keep things natural, you told yourself, then walked inside the office, closing the doors behind you.

You couldn’t help but look around at the office as you approached the desk. It was a lot more spacious than you imagined and had an air of elegance that matched its owner.

Neuvillette didn’t seem to have noticed your entrance. He was still staring at his desk. You could see the deep furrow between his brows, and the frown on his lips. What did he and Lady Furina argue about for him to be brooding over it so much?

Now that you were here, you had no idea what to say. But you couldn’t just leave now. At that moment, you spotted his silver cup, nearly empty. There was a glass pitcher on a side table. You slowly walked over to it and picked it up, then refilled his cup. He looked up at your movements., and his eyes widened when his eyes landed on your face.

“Here, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you offered the water to him. “I think you might need it.”

His hand slowly stretched out to take the cup from you, but his eyes never left your face. “Madame, what are you doing here?”

“W-Well, I, um...” you fidgeted. “I was just visiting the license office, and then, I saw that there was a c-commotion going on here, and then Lady Furina came out, and you looked very...” Your voice trailed off when you saw his expression change. The troubled look on his face was wiped away like a slate being cleaned, and his usual look returned.

“You should not have come here. It is better if you do not visit me at the Palais.”

“Oh...okay,” a wave of disappointment rose up inside your chest. It was understandable, really. Your relationship with Neuvillette needed to be kept as low-key and secretive as possible, and you shouldn’t interrupt him at work—it would only distract him (were you a distraction? Did you qualify as one?). Besides, visiting his workplace was such a...wifely thing to do. “I’m sorry. I was just worried about how you were doing, but I can just ask you at home. I’ll take my leave now, sir. Goodbye.”

“No, please wait, Madame,” Neuvillette came around to your side of the desk as you slowly backed away. “I apologize for my earlier brusqueness. I was not myself. Please, feel free to stay here.”

“I shouldn’t...” you said. It was clear that Neuvillette was trying his best to maintain his polite demeanour. “I would only distract you from your important work.”

“I could use a distraction right now,” Neuvillette said. Wow, that fight with Lady Furina must have been bad, you thought. “And I would very much like to talk to you. That is, if you would like to. I do not wish to force you. ”

Something in his voice made you stop backing away. It almost sounded like a plea.

You sat down on the blue couch next to his desk, and Neuvillette likewise sat down in his chair.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. You stared at the wall across from you, at the gramophone in the corner, at the window behind him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Neuvillette staring at the papers on his desk, occasionally taking a sip of water.

Should I ask what happened, or should I wait for him to talk about it, you puzzled over the dilemma. Neuvillette wasn’t the type to talk about himself, so it would probably be better if you brought it up, but on the other hand, what if the argument with Furina was about something confidential, like trials or governance, something not meant for you to know?

Surprisingly, it was Neuvillette who spoke first.

“Madame, earlier you said that you were visiting the license office. How did it go?”

“Huh?” you blinked in confusion. That was unexpected. “Oh, um, well, I suppose. I haven’t progressed much on the waiting list at all.”

“Ah, I see. How unfortunate to hear. But don’t lose heart, I have no doubt that you will get your license in due time.”

Neuvillette’s expression didn’t change much as he said those words. You weren’t sure what you were expecting.

“Yes, I know. I hope so too.”

Another silence. You decided to use this opportunity to ask him about his argument with Furina. “So--”

“The sunflower seeds you’ve planted seem to be growing well. They seem to be growing taller every time I see them.”

“...They are, although it would take more than a month before they can bloom.”

It had been a few weeks since your parents sent you the sunflower seeds. You decided to plant them by the front door as well as in the garden, near the porch door. Despite Neuvillette’s mysterious promise to “do something about the rain,” you had been prepared to go outside to water the seedlings frequently, but sure enough, there had been a full two weeks of rain. Not the long and violent rainstorms of the earlier rainy season, but briefer, gentler showers that were suitable for young, fragile sprouts. These rains seemed to belong in spring rather than summer.

When you had remarked upon the timeliness and aptness of the rains to Neuvillette, he had said something vague like, “Perhaps someone out there heard your request,” but was amusingly disgruntled when you suggested that the “someone” was most likely Furina, who being the God of Hydro was the most logical answer. “I have my doubts about that,” was all he said.

You weren’t a fool. You knew that Neuvillette probably used his powers to make it rain. Of course, that was just an assumption, since he disappointingly never used his powers in front of you. For all you knew, he could only breathe fire or something. But still, it was fun to tease him a little by thanking Furina out loud whenever it rained.

“They would be a sight to behold when the time comes,” Neuvillette said. “I am very much looking forward to it.”

You nodded. “We should take pictures and invite the Melusines.”

Now was your chance to ask him. “But putting that aside, what—”

“Speaking of the Melusines, I’ve heard from them that they have been enjoying your drawing lessons very much.”

You stared at him. He was definitely doing this on purpose. “I’m glad to hear that, it was enjoyable for me as well,” you said at last when Neuvillette showed no sign of relenting.

“Were there any difficulties?”

“It was tough at first,” you admitted. “Since Melusines don’t have fingers, so it was difficult for me to teach them how to grip a pencil properly. And the way they see color is different from humans, too, which leads to a lot of fascinating results when it comes to coloring. But other than that, they are all very good students.”

Neuvillette nodded, smiling a little, as he always did when the topic of Melusines came up. “It must be good for you as well, to gain teaching experience.”

It was indeed. You used to help as a teaching assistant at the schoolhouse in your hometown, but ever since you moved to the Court of Fontaine, you had mainly focused on book studying and hardly gained any practical experience.

“Enough about me,” you said firmly. Neuvillette didn’t seem to have any intention of speaking about the argument at all, and it bothered you deeply. "I want to ask about—”

“How do you think of taking our honeymoon?” Neuvillette said at the same time.

“Huh?” You stood up and walked over to him. Were your ears working correctly just now? “I don’t believe I heard you right. Did you just say ‘honeymoon.’?”

“Yes,” Neuvillette said, then took another sip of water. “Or, um, it could be a date, if you would prefer to think of it that way.”

Once again, you stared at him with incredulity. He was avoiding your gaze.

“What brought this on?” you asked, but the answer came to you at once. “Did Lady Furina have something to do with it?”

Neuvillette said nothing. He was really going to drag this out, wasn’t he, you thought. Feeling a stab of annoyance, you moved over to the side of the desk and bent down so that you were looking him directly in the eye.

“Monsieur, let me repeat my question once again. Is your argument with Lady Furina behind this proposal?”

“Yes,” he breathed, staring back into your eyes. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but you pressed on.

“Did the argument have to do with our marriage?”

“...Yes,” he said, and then cleared his throat. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“Alright, then,” you said at last. “I will go on this honeymoon or date or whatever with you.”

“You will?” Neuvillette looked genuinely surprised. “I do not want you to feel pressured. You are under no obligation to accept. I...do not want you to agree because you are afraid of me.”

Now you felt concerned. “Do I seem afraid of you, sir?”

There was a discomforting pause before he answered, “I do not know. I am not good at discerning these sorts of things.”

“Then, allow me to make it clear,” you said and straightened up. “I am not doing this out of fear or intimidation of you. I’m agreeing out of my own desire to find out just what exactly is troubling you. This is the same for anything you ask of me.”

Neuvillette stared at your face. Something he saw there must have convinced him, for you felt an invisible tension disappear from him. “I’m very pleased to hear that.”

The two of you smiled at each other for a moment, then looked away.

“So, when are we going on this honeymoon?” you asked to distract from the delicate atmosphere that had appeared. “I should start preparing right away.”

“Tomorrow,” Neuvillette replied, like it was natural to simply go on vacations the very next day. “It will only be for a day, I’m afraid.”

“Tomorrow?” you exclaimed. “So soon?”

“Why not tomorrow? In my experience, it is always better to take action right away.”

“But...but, what about your duties. The crime rates?”

“I am going to arrange for my subordinates to handle a part of my work. There are no trials tomorrow, and I have faith that the Palais can do without me for one day. You don’t have any plans tomorrow as well, Madame?”

You shook your head. “Then...have you already decided where we’re going to go?”

“I have. It’s somewhere I have wanted to take you to for some time.”

You felt your cheeks turn red despite yourself. “I-I see. Then I’m sure it must be somewhere amazing.”

In addition to your worry and concern about Neuvillette, there was now a thin thread of excitement. You had never really travelled before. And now the Chief Justice himself was personally taking you somewhere.

You wandered around the office, your dormant imagination going wild. Since it was Neuvillette, it must be a place with lots of water. Maybe he was taking you to the beach? Did you need to buy swimwear? Would Neuvillette bring swimwear? You briefly attempted to imagine him swimming before immediately pushing that thought out of your mind. It felt indecent.

“Wait...” you stopped in front of a very familiar painting. It was jarring against the brightly lit room and even the gilt frame surrounding it. How had you not noticed it before? “You hung my painting in your office?”

“Ah, yes,” Neuvillette walked over to you. “I found that this was the most suitable place for it.”

He then noticed your distressed expression, and his face fell. “...Do you not want me to hang it here?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all,” you shook your head. “It’s my gift to you, so you should do whatever you like with it, it’s just that...”

“Yes?” Neuvillette prompted you.

“It’s just that...it looks so out of place here. If I had known you were going to put it here, I would have painted something better.”

“There is no need for that,” Neuvillette said. “I enjoy looking at it. It brings me calm, particularly on bright, stressful days like these. I feel as though I am looking out a window into the rain.”

“Oh!” Your voice cracked, and you felt lightheaded. You hadn't considered it anything special, you just wanted to show your gratitude to him and hoped he found it pleasing. You assumed that he put it in his study or something, but you never expected for him to put it here, where doubtless so many important people visited. And yet it was hung up proudly, like the work of a master.

I enjoy looking at it. It brings me calm.

You felt extremely embarrassed—but also an overpowering joy that you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

“I-I see,” you stuttered out. What was going on? A moment ago, you felt utterly calm, and now you were acting like a nervous schoolgirl. You slowly backed away. “A-As the a-artist, I-I'm, um, very happy to hear that.”

Neuvillette frowned. “Are you alright, Madame?”

You could only imagine the expression on your face right now. “Y-Yes, sir. I’m perfectly fine. I should really take my leave now and leave you to your duties. I’ll, um, see you at home!”

You turned your back to a dumbfounded Neuvillette and opened the doors, then peeked outside. The Gestionnaires were all bent over their typewriters. You slipped outside.

You did your best to maintain your composure as you walked out of the Palais, and descended in the elevator, before inexplicably breaking into a run, all the way back home.

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@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #the winding path of fate #my works

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fuckyeahpedropascal · 4 months

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Hi, I hope you're doing well! Just wondering if you're able to do a post/poll/comparison/analysis - let's call it a scientific study - of Pedro's broad shoulder in proportion to his tiny waist? (and maybe also his cute, um, bottom?)

As always, thank you so much for all you do for the Pedro fandom! 💖

This ask is literally 8 months old, I’m so sorry sweet anon 😭 I kept putting it off because I felt like I couldn’t do your ask justice. I still think I can do a much better job than this, but since it’s Boxing Day, I thought I’d leave this naked man under all of your trees.

Please forgive the half-assed analysis because my mind doesn’t work in the face of such broadness 🫠 And of course, we can only use half-naked pics because we need clear references for science.

Let's talk overall broadness first. This man majorly beefed up in between Nikita (2013) and the first season of Narcos (2015). I was going to use 3:5 cropping for both gifs, but I literally couldn't fit all of Javier in that frame. That's how bloody broad this man had gotten.

Can we admire the corded muscles running down Javier's side for a second? Look at the lines. Look at them. He is significantly thicker and more sculpted compared to Liam, he definitely put his hours in the gym in those couple of years.

Skipping forward to the next time we see this man half-naked on screen in TUWOMT in 2022, he has clearly gotten even broader horizontally and also filled out in thickness. The shoulders are bigger, and look at those tiddies pecs practically leaping off the screen, and that soft belly. They knew what they were doing not giving us a full frontal shot of Javi G - he's a danger to ovaries everywhere.

Now let's move on to shoulder-to-waist ratio. Compared to Liam, Javier has a more pronounced dip in the waist thanks to the broader shoulders and the tiny little waist that stayed tiny. If you draw lines connecting shoulders to waist, Liam is more boxy and Javier is more of a trapezium.

While we don't see Javi G stand up fully, that shoulder-to-waist ratio is clearly still there, even if he is broader on both ends overall. That slutty nip in the waist is still very much present.

Ok that's all the analysis my turkey-fogged brain is capable of right now. This is such a broad topic (tehehe), consider this a prelude of sorts. I'm sure I'll be doing more of a deep dive one day, because we haven't even gotten to that little tush yet.

• Masterlist •

Shoulders/arms/waist ratio

Pedro boys in bed

Pedro boys disrobed

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #javier pena #javier peña #javi gutierrez #the unbearable weight of massive talent #pedro pascal edit #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal analysis #fuckyeahasks

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rascal-xo · 11 months

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Living in the Shadows | CoD Series | One

Pairing - TF141 x Female Reader (Callsign Dagger)

Romantic Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x Female Reader

Series Warnings: Violence, SMUT, Language, ANGST, Gore, Smoking

Chapter Summary: Amidst an ongoing conflict, you’ve been called in to work along side TF141 in Urzikstan…

A/N: Ahhh i’m so excited to start posting this series i’ve been working on! I hope you all enjoy :)) and if you have any suggestions for chapters or any feedback I would love to hear it in my inbox or in the comments! 🩷🩷

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You stand tall in a well-pressed uniform, surrounded by the crisp walls of the military briefing room. The air is tense with a mixture of urgency and anticipation, a silent prelude to the news that awaits.

As the door swings open, your commanding officer Colonel Briggs strides in. You snap to attention as his eyes sweep across the room before settling on you.

“At ease, Sergeant.” He takes his seat at the small conference table and so do you. He clears his throat, projecting his voice with a stern, yet composed tone. "I’m sure you’re aware, tensions have escalated in Urzikstan.”

“Yes sir.” You say, letting him continue.

“Extremist forces have risen, threatening not only the stability of the region but our security as well." He pulls up a display on the screen behind him. Standing up to manipulate the features that are projecting images of war-torn landscapes and armed militants.

"These are the current hotspots in Urzikstan," he says, pointing to various areas on the map. "Our intelligence indicates that, Al Qatala has taken back control of strategic positions, posing a grave threat to both local civilians and our interests in the region."

You lean forward, your gaze fixed on the screen, absorbing every detail. The gravity of the situation becomes more apparent with each passing moment.

"We've been in close coordination with our allies, including Captain Price's and the 141 Task Force, to devise a strategy for retaking control and neutralizing the key targets. Your combat expertise, Sergeant, has earned you a place on this mission."

A surge of pride and determination fills your chest. Being chosen for such a critical assignment is a testament to your skill and dedication.

“When do I ship out, Sir?” You ask, taking in the scene on the screen in front of you.

"Our forces are preparing for immediate deployment," Colonel Briggs declares. "You will join Captain Price's team on the ground in Urzikstan within the next 24 hours.

In the following hours, you meticulously gather your equipment, ensuring that every item is in its proper place.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting an amber glow on the tarmac where aircraft await, engines humming with anticipation.

As the transport aircraft touches down on the rugged terrain of Urzikstan, you feel the jolt reverberate through your body. The ramp lowers, and you step out onto foreign soil, the air thick with a mixture of anticipation and tension.

You tighten your grip on your weapon, adjusting the weight to find comfort in its familiarity. Taking a deep breath, you push forward, your eyes scanning the surroundings of the base.

You slow down when you see a soldier leaning against a humvee. “Sergeant Y/L/N!” He calls out, his accent aggressively scottish.

“You must be Soap.” You smile, reaching your right hand out to shake his. You recognize his face from the file dossiers given to you by the Colonel as apart of your mission brief.

“Right on. Laswell says they call you Dagger.” He replies, nodding with approval.

“She would be correct.” You know Colonel Briggs gave the whole rundown to Kate before choosing you for this mission. Hell, they probably already knew you inside and out.

“Well then Dagger, let’s get you situated so we can get this show on the road, yeah?” He says, swinging his rifle over his shoulder and leading the way.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Main CoD Taglist: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera

Series Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @swissy23 @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @ner-dee @your-antares-universe

A/N: My CoD taglist form is linked in my masterlist which is pinned to my profile! If you want to be added to the Series Taglist LMK!

This was just chapter one which is why it’s not too long. I cant wait to post more and hear what y’all think :))

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #fanfic #simon ghost riley #call of duty smut #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x female reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #cod series #modern warfare smut

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21wanderer · 4 months

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The parody

His name was Johnny Zest, born John Landgraab, but that wasn’t a name he used anymore. His family disowned him years ago after he skipped out of school. Johnny wasn’t academical, at all, he was the class clown, and boy did he make them laugh.

Johnny was funny, and he was good at it, so he wanted to work on that instead. He wanted to be a comedian. And that is what he eventually became, much to his family’s disapproval. Not anything big, but enough to make ends meet, and usually just at the local comedy club. One thing he was particularly good at was parodies. Given a little time, he could change his voice quite convincingly. People were amazed with his parodies. He nailed it, they told him.

After a show one evening, a guy approached him by the scene after his performance, as the next set was being set up.

“Great show, dude” he said with a big smile. Johnny thanked him for the compliment.

“Do you think you could make yourself sound like me?” the guy asked. “Well, I’ll need a little time to see how your face moves when you speak, and of course get to know your voice…” Johnny began to explain, but he was cut off before he could elaborate further.

“Heh, it would be great, if you could. I could put you on my channel, you'd get tons of attention." The guy kept talking, but Johnny was beginning to zone out.

Then it dawned on Johnny, who this guy was… He had to be some sort of influencer.

Johnny didn’t recognize him, the guy probably wouldn’t like the fact, that Johnny had no idea who he was. And this guy seemed to be the kind of person, who wanted to be recognized.

So Johnny just played along, after all, acting was what he was good at.

"Hey, let’s take a selfie together, I’ll post on my channel. Then maybe you can get me some free tickets for your next show. Then you can show your impression of me." It wasn't until the guy had taken his selfie and shown the uploaded result to him, that he actual figured out his name: Jackson Ready.

His meeting with Jackson had made him realize something, he wasn’t just good at parodies, he was great at it… Maybe it was time to put it to use…

He began studying Jackson’s posts intricately, trying to absorb as much knowledge about him as possible. Learning all about his hobbies, interests, and most importantly; his behaviour. He had to admit that Jackson was pretty generic, nothing really set him apart. He just filmed other people doing stuff, and then made it all about himself. Johnny couldn’t see any justification in this guy’s popularity, but he wasn’t going to complain, after all he was planning on using it.

He practiced extensively Jackson’s voice and behaviour. He also spent hours on makeup to make himself look just Jackson; they were quite similar, which made it easy, and Johnny wanted to be sure, that he nailed it. In the following weeks, he did everything to try and become just like Jackson, and he was getting more and more accustomed to it.

Thanks to a shady individual from Strangetown, Johnny had come into possession of the device, that was going to subdue Jackson and take him out of the picture. With that he was now all set to put his plan into motion. His last show on stage. The prelude to his greatest performance yet.

He sent a message to Jackson, of course with a free ticket attached, as well as asking him to meet him backstage after his performance.

Johnny managed to get through the show. Jackson was sitting front row… and Johnny had kept a good eye on him, this was going to be wild.

“Hey, dude, you were great tonight - freaking hilarious.”

“Thanks,” Johnny said, his pulse was rising, he knew his window of opportunity was small, and it will appear in just a moment. “So did you think you could make an impression of me?” “Yes, I have been practicing quite a bit.” Johnny said as he led Jackson to the backstage room. “Cool, we can do a couple of short recordings, then I can post in on my channel.” “Excellent, dude!” Johnny said imitating Jackson’s voice. Jackson was visibly surprised. “Woah! You sound just like me, but wait till I have started recording.”

“Oh okay…” Johnny said with his regular voice. Having hid a little tube device in his hand, Johnny anticipated the moment. Jackson was way to occupied looking at his phone screen, seemingly trying to get a good angle as well as light. But his inattention was just, what Johnny had waited for.

Johnny injected the tube into Jackson’s neck, Jackson yelped almost inaudibly, before he dropped his phone and collapsed on the floor.

Not wasting any time, Johnny quickly pulled off Jackson’s boots, socks, suit, watch, cap and underwear, stripping him completely naked. Jackson had a nice body, Johnny already knew that obviously, but seeing it in real life was something definitely more satisfying.

He went over to the mirror table pulling off his fake soul patch, without it his chin was as smoothly shaved as Jackson’s. He then grabbed the wig and quickly put it on. It looked pretty convincing, but Johnny was intending to dye his hair as soon as possible, so he wouldn’t have to rely on the wig. He put in the contact lenses, he knew Jackson used them too, so nobody would notice. Then he began to apply the makeup, he had prepared in advance. He knew exactly what to do to make the disguise flawless. He admired the result in the mirror, his Jackson face was spot on.

He began to undress and threw all his old clothes into his “prop box”, there were actually no props inside the box, the box itself was the prop, but as long as everybody thought it was filled with props Johnny could carry out his plan with little worry.

He stuffed all his old clothes into the box, then dragged it over to the unconscious Jackson.

He lifted him with surprisingly little effort, he wasn’t exactly sure, what that injection had done to him, but he quickly folded Jackson in half and placed him in box, then he shut it.

He then looked at the pile of clothes, that was all that remained of Jackson. He put on Jackson’s damp boxers, keeping his arousal in place. Then the t-shirt and socks, also damp, Johnny enjoyed how they smelled strongly of Jackson, he could get used to that scent.

Then he grabbed the weird suit Jackson had worn, Johnny wasn’t exactly sure, what kind of motor sport you’d wear it for… if any. But Jackson didn’t do motor sports, Johnny knew that much. Nevertheless he thoroughly enjoyed slipping into the suit, it was warm and slick on the inside, it creaked softly as it covered his body. His hand slid down the inside of Jackson's suit, he pulled a couple of times, his arousal was growing. He needed to remain focused, time was of the essence. He wiped his hand off on the leg of the suit. There would be plenty of time for that later. He had to complete his transformation. He slipped on Jackson’s boots, they fitted perfectly. He slipped on his watch and finally he placed the cap on his head… backwards, just like Jackson had worn it.

He now looked just like Jackson did as he entered the backroom just a few minutes ago, nobody would be able to tell the difference, he looked at himself in the mirror, it was breathtaking.

He placed the box on its wheels and quickly left unseen via the back door. He retrieved Jackson’s car key from the inner pocket of the suit. He unlocked Jackson’s car and stuffed the box in the trunk.

The perfect act, from the world’s greatest parodist.

#male transformation #identity theft #life takeover #male masking #impersonation #male body swap

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cosmicjoke · 7 months

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Well, after watching a recap of the first episode of season 2 of "Loki" (because I'm not paying Disney for anything at this point), I can pretty much confirm everything I said in my previous post. This show isn't about Loki at all. It's about the multiverse and just a set up for the next Avengers movie. Why is Loki even necessary as the main character, I wonder. They're just using him, and calling the show "Loki" to capitalize on his popularity, and that's about it. But otherwise, this show has nothing to do with him personally, as a character. It's got nothing to do with his own, personal growth. It's got nothing to do with his own, personal struggles. It's got nothing to do with his actual history within the MCU. It's just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo about the multiverse and Kang and the branching timelines. This is part of Marvel's problem these days. Everything is just a set up for the next movie or the next show. Instead of focusing on just telling good stories with the characters they're using, about the characters they're using, it all has to be a prelude to some big, universe spanning BS event.

They also had a scene, apparently, where Loki gets into an argument with Mobius about who "won" the fight between him and Sylvie at the end of the first season, and of course Mobius has to say it was Sylvie who won, while Loki gets all defensive and tries to claim it was a draw, because she's just better at everything than Loki, and Loki is an insecure, narcissistic little bitch. She's the better one. Obviously.

I heard that Loki doesn't get AS emasculated in this season as the first, but that's a pretty low bar to clear, since every other scene in the first season was him getting emasculated.

Also, it's just, every clip I've watched from this season still has Loki acting out of character. Why the hell does he RUN from the TVA agents in that scene in the hallway. He doesn't have that power repressing collar on. He should easily handle their asses. But as usual, Loki has no power when it's inconvenient for him to. And like, look, I love Tom Hiddleston. I think he's an amazing actor. But they're obviously directing him to try and be "funny", and it's lending an exaggerated, unnatural quality to his acting. It's been this way since the first season, and really since the dumpster fire that was "Ragnarok", where his movements are these over the top, exaggerated gestures, his line delivery has this forced, fake quality. His expressions look more like he's pulling faces than conveying any sort of nuanced or subtle emotion. It just feels like he's satirizing Loki instead of actually becoming Loki, and it sucks. I don't feel like I'm watching Loki, I feel like I'm just watching Tom Hiddleston acting like an idiot. Loki shouldn't be this clownish character. He can be funny, but his humor should always be understated, because Loki himself is an understated character. A master manipulator, someone who's always several steps ahead of everyone else, someone who's smarter than everyone else, someone who relies on trickery and deceit and misdirection to get what he wants done. Not this flailing around, desperate, overly emotional cry baby that they've made him into. It's unbearable to watch, and it's had a negative impact on Tom Hiddleston's acting to boot.

#loki series negativity #loki negativity #MCU

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starphasedd · 5 months

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Unmade

1 - The Prelude

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Rating: 18+ for violence, explicit language, and eventual smut.

Synopsis: "When Din saw the look in your eyes at the sight of the child, he knew he made the right decision coming to you."

Notes: Hiii 🥺 It's been so long since I've had the motivation or inspiration to write. I'm so happy to finally post chapter one of my new works. 💓

This is a new multi-chapter series that will be worth reading, guaranteed. 👌 updates may be slow. But I promise I am working on it. And yes--smut coming soon. In the next chapter 🔥

Each chapter will have an assigned theme song. Literally just a song I listened to while writing that had me vibing. Name and artist in the notes below. 😊

Word count: 5k +

AO3 | chapter 2

9Aby - Tatooine - Ten months prior to present

It was getting increasingly difficult to find work.

Jobs were getting smaller and less complicated by the day. Some were bigger than others, but nothing compared to what you used to bring in. You've seen everything from small weapons repair, to minor speeder bike maintenance. But for the most part, they were small and low compensating jobs.

You found it hard to afford the essentials anymore. Food, water, toiletries–any base comfort to life. You hadn't had a home cooked meal in months . You ate what you could find or pawn off any wealthy vendor along the streets.

Luckily, you owned your own shop. You were infinitely grateful for that. It meant you had a place to sleep; a roof over your head. Most importantly, a door to close and lock at the end of the night. To keep the thieves and possibly more , out.

Mos Eisley had been attracting people from all over in recent years. You heard of a spice trade running rampant nearby from people in the village, but you always tried to ignore the banter. It was never good to involve yourself with those kinds of things. You made it a personal goal to stay pretty introverted. It was best for you, and everyone around you to not get involved in trivial things like gossip and politics.

It was testing, though. The drugs coming through town had taken a toll on your business.

It makes it hard for you to bring in any credits. Very hard. The criminals were starting to take over, driving all of the families with children out. Not only was it becoming difficult for you to earn any credits, it was making it difficult for you to earn clean credits.

For the longest time, your customer base were family men with speeders, regular weapons used for recreation and such. They were clean, good credits. You could take pride in helping the people of this town. You were contributing to happy and healthy lifestyles. It was relatively wholesome.

It’s not like that anymore.

Outsiders would come in looking for repairs on their weapons, only for you to find out the particular weapons they had in their possessions were registered as stolen. Ninety nine percent of the time, that meant they were previously owned by Imperials and were now being used in some type of crime syndicate. At first, you would turn them away. Even if it meant getting cursed at or losing business. You had options back then. But when more of them started rolling into town, driving the city folk away, you had no choice but to start taking their business. It was survival, at this point.

You laid awake at night, wondering–thinking of ways you could turn everything around. It always came to the same conclusion. You were a defenseless woman, operating a male dominated trade, in a town that was now overrun by criminals.

And you were alone.

You didn't have any family. Or even friends, for that matter. You kept to yourself all these years, solitude being your closest friend.

You did have an acquaintance that worked out of a hangar bay in the spaceport. Peli Motto. She was just that though. An acquaintance . Not a friend. There was something about her that irked you. Maybe it was the righteous part of you that wanted to be pure and good–because she was somewhat of a scammer. But her methods had her eating well every night. She was always at the bar, drinking and having fun. Gambling, all of it. You hated to admit it, but you often found yourself jealous of her.

Not just the scheming way of lining her pockets, but also her mechanical talents. She was definitely gifted in her trade, and she had loyal customers from all over. All of which could be possible clients of yours, but would never set foot in your shop because of her. Sometimes you thought she tried to spoil your name so everyone would come to her–a rotten way to get rotten business.

Day by day, you watched ship after ship land and leave her hangar. It angered you. Stars , it really pissed you off.

That is, until one day, she actually sends someone right to you.

It was incredibly muggy that day, you remember. Your hair stayed damp, sticking to your cheeks and neck. Your clothes clung to your body uncomfortably. Sweat rolled down your skin constantly all day. At some point, you wished you could walk around butt-ass-naked . Anything to escape the heat at this point. You wanted to rip your shirt and pants off to cool down. Even for a little while.

You sat atop an old project speeder bike in the corner of your shop. Some sunshine was able to come through missing pieces in the makeshift metal roof. Part of your shop was a building with one wall knocked down. You kept your personal belongings there. The other half of your shop was relatively open space. The roof was held together by pieces of metal you had found here and there. Most of it was rusted, and broken. Hence the big ray of sunshine that's beaming down on you right now. The floor on the open side of your shop was nonexistent. It was the raw, sandy ground. The floor leading into the closed part of your shop was tile you had laid down a while back. Something to walk on other than the sandy floor.

You tried covering up the brick walls of your shop with old blankets to give it a more 'homey' feel. You thought it may make your customers feel more at ease when they were around. When you had customers.

The speeder was a side project of yours that was slowly becoming your only project. You had always dreamt of owning a speeder for recreation. So, you bought a scrap, hollow shell of one a few years back to work on and restore for yourself. Sadly though, it was now becoming your survival project. You needed to sell it to feed yourself.

Red hued safety glasses shield your eyes from hot sparks that fly up from the soldering iron in your hands. Your fingers glide delicately over the sensitive wires in the ignition chamber of the speeder's engine bay. You’re sitting on the warm leather seat; the top half of your body hunched over in what you can only refer to as a “gremlin looking” position. It should hurt your back, but you were used to it by now. The long term effects lost on you for the time being. The only thing on your mind was getting this machine running so you could sell it and fill your cooling chamber.

Sweat glistens your face, neck and exposed chest as the hot Tatooine suns beam down on you. You have a bottle of water next to you on the ground in case you start to get nauseated. Which happens more frequently than not on this maker forsaken planet.

You reach up to wipe some of the sweat off your forehead with your arm. The heat from the surrounding areas combined with what radiated off the molten wires in front of you was taking a toll on your physical state. Maybe not the best day to do this. One of the hottest reported days in the planet’s history.

You sigh through chapped lips, deciding against starting the next bundle of wires. You lean down, gripping the water bottle with what little strength you had left to bring it up to your lips. You chug, sucking down the entire sixteen ounce bottle in one thirsty gulp. Despite the painfully hot air surrounding you, your water managed to stay relatively cool in the shade of your bike. The liquid runs cool down your throat; coating it in sweet relief for a few moments before you feel it hit the inside of your belly.

You sigh again, sitting up straight on the bike’s seat. You let your head fall back on your shoulders and you close your eyes, resting them for a few moments. Your arms fall limp to your sides, your thighs straddling each side of the hot speeder. The sun beams down on your skin and you can feel the burn starting up again. The red safety glasses also help to shield your eyes from the sun.

Your shop is far enough outside of the main streets that you don’t get all of the city noise, thankfully. Most days, you can sit here and just listen to the quiet noises of the sand and wind. It was relaxing sometimes, and deafening the other times.

So, you sat there for a few minutes. Head back, posture relaxed. Just enjoying the silence for a while.

After a few more minutes, you heard the distinct sound of the main shop door opening. The door was large and made of very flimsy durasteel. The sound of that loud wobbling paired with durasteel scraping on the sand surface was something you didn’t hear very often anymore. This was all followed by heavy footsteps; leather boots clumping lazily over the ground. A large man crested around the corner, looking down at you sitting on your bike.

You glance over at him. He appears human, his whole body brandished with expensive looking weapons. He had short cut hair, blonde in color. His eyes were blue. His skin was pale and freckled. He wore a black leather jacket on top of a black tank top. Both were dirty, and he didn’t seem to care.

A grin spread across his face and chills immediately shot down your spine. Your back stiffened as the large man began sauntering in your direction before he came to a halt in front of you. His thumbs hook in the pockets of his pants on either side.

He nods arrogantly before finally speaking to you.

“They told me a pretty little lady ran this shop. I dn’t believe em.” His accent is unfamiliar to you, his words almost slurring together. Or is he drunk?

He licks his lips once and smiles down at you. His teeth are dirty and unkempt.

You cough and shift away from him, swinging your leg over the other side of the speeder. You take a couple steps back from him, but not too many. As to not set any red flags off in the man's head. Your hand reaches up to push the red glasses onto the top of your head. You squint when the sun hits your sensitive hues. After pushing your glasses up, your hands slide back down to your waist and lock onto your hips.

Usually with these types of guys, you choose a more aggressive approach. You would immediately tell them to get lost, or chase them out. But, something is different about this one. He seems…off. Unhinged, maybe? Something about his demeanor screams at you. You’re uneasy.

You’re playing it safe this time. Just…see what he has to say.

“Guess I’m that lady,” You say sweetly, a very fake smile cresting your cheeks. You pretend to be busy, shifting around to pick up some useless spare parts hanging around. “How can I help you?”

His breathing is a little heavy, you notice. And that scares you. That hints at something unstable within him.

He takes his hands from his pockets and flattens his palms on the fabric, rubbing them up and down to dry them of the sweat he’s exuding on this hot day. He grins again and shifts to follow you when you opt to start walking into the shaded part of your shop.

“Need a piece of equipment fixed.” He says plainly, directly behind you.

There’s a tall, bar-like table to the left of your shaded space. Behind the bar-esque table is storage for your customers' weapons. You walk behind the bar, and he follows around to face you from the other side. Thank the maker. Breathing room.

“What kind of equipment?” You ask innocently.

The man reaches behind him and pulls a large rifle from his back. He drops it down on the counter in front of you.

You grab it softly, pulling it closer. Your fingers wrap around each end to bring it up for a better view. A knot is tightening in your gut. As you thought; an illegal weapon. Again. This one in particular is especially heinous.

A T7 Ion Disruptor. A rifle banned by the New Republic.

You clear your throat, slowly setting the weapon back down on the table in front of you. You glance up at the man through your lashes. He’s still grinning at you, shifting weirdly on his feet. Back and forth.

“I’m sorry. I can’t work on this.” You say, slowly pushing the rifle back towards the man.

You know there’s trouble when he stops shifting from side to side, and his grin slowly fades. He huffs, slapping his hands back down onto the weapon and pushing it back to your side of the counter.

“I’ll pay ya, No questions asked.” He says, his blood shot eyes boring into your face.

Your heart is starting to race, goosebumps covering the skin of your arms as the situation slowly starts to escalate. You’ve seen this desperate type of behavior before. Especially here. Especially now. The spice coming into town has corrupted many people here. The crime syndicates were always looking for better weapons. But they would only buy if the weapons were in working condition. Addicts would find these illegal rifles and bring them to you, desperate to have them fixed so they could go sell them to the syndicates. All to get their next week's fix of drugs. You feel for these people, you really do. This is a way of life for them. This is how they survive. You wish you could help, but you can’t put yourself under the radar of any crime syndicate.

“--’m sorry. I can’t. This rifle is banned by the New Republic.” You say softly, pushing the rifle back towards the man.

His breathing has increased; it’s loud and almost rabid now. He’s sweating and twitching. He stands there for a moment, staring at you. And without any notice, he violently slams both hands down on the table and shoves the rifle at you. It hits your lower stomach. Your heart drops into your belly.

“I don’t care if it’s fuckin’ banned by the New Republic. I need it fixed–” He says, leaning over the counter. His hot breath is fanning your face as he grunts. “ Now .”

He’s huffing heavily through his nostrils. Sweat is dripping down his cheeks and dropping on the weapon below him. His fingers are twitching on the wood countertop, and his eyes are wide. They’re bulging out of his head, red and bloodshot. The skin around his eyes is dark and almost hollow.

You let a soft, shaky breath escape your lips as you struggle to find the courage or words to confront him. And he doesn’t move, doesn’t give you a chance to respond. He just…waits.

You’ve experienced men like him before, but never this violent. Most men that came in here were trying to get a rise out of you. Always something to say. They always thought they could take advantage of you; overpower you. But you pride yourself on your courage and cunning. You never let them get to you.

This was different, though. This man is explosively violent and unstable.

He’s desperate . That scares you the most.

You struggle to find words as fear settles into your skin. Your hands drop below the counter to a shelf underneath. He doesn’t notice, as he has his eyes fixed on yours. Your nimble fingers begin to wrap themselves around an emergency blaster you have hung under the counter.

Finally, as your fingers secure defense, you muster the courage to speak.

“I can’t ,” You exhale slowly, finger tightening on the trigger of the blaster.

The man exhales hard, fingernails starting to scratch into the wood surface below his palms. He leans up slightly, letting his chest have room to inhale so he can speak.

“ You little bitch ,” He starts, but he’s cut off.

“Is there a problem here?” An unfamiliar voice rings in. It’s modulated, almost like it came from a droid.

It startles the both of you. In unison, the two of you shoot your heads in the direction of where the voice came from.

In the entrance of your shop stands another man, and your heart sinks even more.

He’s tall and covered in armor. The armor is all different colors, worn and damaged from much use it seems. He also has weapons brandished all over his body. He has brown boots on, strapped with bombs of all kinds. He has a dark brown flight suit underneath. Every important part of his body is covered by the worn armor.

When you get to his head, you immediately recognize what he is.

A Mandalorian. A distinct helmet.

He stands tall and confident. He has broad shoulders, and large arms.

Your fingers are still locked on the trigger of your blaster as you struggle to tear your eyes from the Mandalorian standing in your doorway.

The man in front of you grunts and shifts to stand up to his full height. He shuffles before turning back to look at you.

“I’m almost done with her,” he starts, before shooting around the left side of the counter at you. As he’s coming around, he’s speaking. “ You can have her when I’m done .” He growls out, sweaty and vicious hands grabbing for you as he breeches the left side of the counter. He’s moving so fast it’s hard for you to process. You don’t fully register what’s going on, not really. All you can see is his large, looming figure coming at you at lightspeed. All you can hear are the quick shuffling of his feet and he charges you.

Instinctually, you bring the blaster out from under the counter and point it towards him as he charges you.

But as soon as you brought the blaster out, the man was shot down. A red beam of plasma blasts past and so close to your head the wind gust from it causes your hair to fly up and over your head.

Not a sound comes from the man as he falls to the ground. He thuds loudly, loose limbs hitting the ground after his back. You’re still holding the blaster up in defense, almost like you’re stuck there. Your heart is racing out of your chest and your breathing is slightly elevated. It takes you a few seconds to fully register what just happened. You finally let your arms drop slowly.

You look down at the blaster in your hands, watching your trembling fingers grip the cold durasteel. Your skin is white from gripping the weapon so hard. Your head is dropped, preoccupied, as the Mandalorian slowly approaches the counter.

“Are you alright?” The man asks softly.

It startles you out of your stupor and you look up, seeing the Mandalorians’ hulking figure standing in front of you. He’s even bigger when he’s up close.

You softly set the blaster back in its place under the counter and look up at the Mandalorian.

“Yeah...” You mutter softly, confusion evident in your tone. You look down at the dead man on your floor. “ Maker. ..why would he just…?”

“Exactly why you think.” The Mandalorian speaks. His voice is deep and weathered through the vocoder.

You glance up at him, eyes searching the T-visor of his Beskar helmet.

“Apologies. I heard the whole thing.” He says.

You look from the Mandalorian in front of you, back to the body on your floor once again. You stare at it as you speak.

“Another victim of spice addiction.” You say softly, your tone caressed by a tinge of sadness.

The Mandalorian silently nods his head, his hands coming down to grip the buckle on his belt.

After a few moments, you can hear him shift, grabbing ahold of the Ion Disruptor on the counter. You turn to look back at him and watch as he examines the weapon with diligence. His helmet tilts with the weapon, and his gloved fingers glide delicately over the durasteel.

“Could I take this off your hands?” he asks after a few moments of examining the weapon.

“ Please take it.” You say, a soft smile on your cheeks.

His helmet turns to look over you for a few seconds, like he’s examining you now.

“How much?” He asks.

“It’s yours. No charge.” You say, letting your hands rest on the counter. Your blood is starting to cool, and you’re not trembling anymore.

He looks down at you again and nods, throwing the heavy weapon behind him to sit with some of his others. “Thank you.”

You can’t help the cheeky smile that crosses your face. Your cheeks start to burn. You shift to cross your arms over your chest. “Any particular reason you ventured into my shop, Mandalorian?”

He nods. “I could use your help repairing something.” He says, reaching into a bag on his side. He pulls out a hyperdrive ignition key and gently sets it on the table. He shifts his hips to lean on the other side. “Peli Motto told me you’re good with old ships.”

“Peli Motto? She sent you to me ?” You ask, astonished at the man's words as you lean down to get a better look at the hyperdrive part.

“Not a friend of yours?” He asks, watching you examine the part.

You huff. “Not exactly.” You say nonchalantly, sliding your fingers over the delicate part. “She couldn’t help you?”

“No. She said you’re pretty well versed with electrical failures. On older ships.”

You glance up at him for a moment and chuckle. “Interesting.”

“Don’t usually get referrals from her, I take it?”

“Never. She’s the reason I never have business, if I’m honest.” You say softly, leaning back up and putting your hands on your hips.

He cocks his head to the side gently and watches you.

His gaze is deep, and silent, as he watches you. You find yourself fidgeting with the hem on your hips.

“I..uh, can fix this. Easy. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour.”

He nods, and you take that as your que to get to work.

It takes you forty three minutes, actually. One of the quickest jobs you've had in a while. It was a relatively easy fix. The Mandalorian stood and watched you the entire time, intrigued by your knowledge of the machinery.

"Razor Crest, right?" You ask.

"Yes. How can you tell?"

"This hyperdrive ignition design was used on most pre-imperial ships. But, this one has a significant trait that ties it to the Razor Crest, and the Razor Crest alone ," you say, using a finger to draw him in close by pointing down at the part.

"This is air cooled. See the little chamber here?" You ask, pointing to a small, empty glass chamber in the middle of the device. "Like any other part on a ship, this can get hot. So it's got a pocket of air that feeds directly into the ignition pump, that sends fuel to the thrusters."

He watches you.

"The Razor Crest was the first and last ship ever to have a glass chamber for the hyperdrive ignitions. Afterwards, they were all Durasteel chambers. Easier, cheaper. The glass chambers had so many issues with cracking and leaks, that they immediately discontinued the design. And went for something more durable."

He watches as you slowly pull out the glass chamber and set it aside.

"We'll replace the glass with some durasteel, and you'll be all good to go." You say with a soft smile.

The Mandalorian stands over you, continuing to watch in silence as you make a small durasteel chamber by hand, and fit it to the hyperdrive ignition.

"You're very knowledgeable." He speaks, his voice low and scratchy.

You glance up at his visor for a moment and shoot him a quick smile before looking back down at your work.

"I'd hope so, otherwise I'm in the wrong profession."

A loud click indicates that the durasteel piece is back in place. You gently slide it towards him once you do your final examination.

"You're all set." You say with a smile, hands resting on the counter in front of you.

It's dark out now. A small bit of moonlight shining in through the holes in your makeshift roof. Fairy lights and small cantina lamps light the space around you, painting everything in a soothing orange hue.

The Mandalorian gently grabs the part from your counter and slips it into his satchel.

"What do I owe you?" He asks.

You think about it for a moment; hard. And then you glance over at the lifeless body of the attacker on your floor.

"Nothing." You say, still staring at the body.

He pauses, seemingly confused. "I don't understand."

"No charge today.” You say, looking back up at him and nodding towards the body–hinting.

He takes a deep breath in, this chest rising steadily as he shifts on his feet again.

You offer him another warm smile. “A token of my gratitude.”

His chest falls after a few moments and his helmet turns to look around your shop. He hadn’t had time to until now.

"Your kindness will not be forgotten." He speaks gently.

You smile. "Nor will yours, Mandalorian. Safe travels."

He stands there for a few moments longer than you anticipated, almost like he's thinking. Then he nods and turns to slowly make his way out of your shop.

You thought that would be the last time you saw him. You were wrong.

It was probably a month later when he came back.

It was another hot day. You chose to take the day off, this time. You sat in your bedroom which was closed off from the rest of the building by a large blanket hanging in the doorway. Your room looked like every other building on Tatooine. The walls were crafted of sandy colored pourstone, rounding at the top. A large window on the left lets in plenty of natural sunlight to illuminate the room. There’s just enough space for your bed. You keep a small, single person table and chair directly under the window, where you sit and eat your breakfast every morning.

You’re sitting under the window drinking some caf when you hear the door to your shop open. You stop what you’re doing and listen to see if the person approaches your counter. Heavy footsteps lead directly to the enclosed part of your shop. Quickly, you set your cup of caf down and shuffle to meet the customer out in the open area.

When you shove the blanket out of your way, you’re surprised to see the same Mandalorian from a month earlier standing in your workshop. His appearance is different though. Before, he only had the Beskar helmet. The rest of his armor was pretty old and worn. But today, he appears to you in nothing but pure Beskar armor. From head to toe. He looks clean, and well put together. Shiny.

You rub your hands together and smile softly as you approach him. His helmet follows you as you walk over on the other side of the counter.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again.” You say softly.

The Mandalorian nods, his hands looped in the buckle of his belt like the last time you saw him.

"What brings you back, Mando?” You ask. The nickname slips, but it suits him.

“Are you looking for work?” He says, his voice smooth through the vocoder.

You tilt your head to the side a little, slightly confused. “Pardon?”

“I could use your help,” He starts, his hands coming up to rest on the counter top. “...maintaining my ship and…” he starts, but trails off and he reaches behind himself to shift his shoulder bag to the front. When he does, he lifts the cover to reveal something extraordinary to you. “..with this.”

He reveals a small, green baby. It’s wrinkled, and has pointed ears. Big brown eyes look up at you in wonder as your mouth gapes. It coos softly, tilting its head to one side as it observes you.

“ Stars ….what the hell is that?” You stutter over your words as you lean down to gently pull the baby from the satchel. It coos again, happily, as you pick it up.

“I've been bequested to bring him back to his kind.” Says the Mandalorian.

“H-how did this happen?” You ask, eyes focused on the little green baby in front of you as his claws grip your hands on either side.

“It’s a long story,” He starts, watching you observe the baby carefully. “I can’t watch him and I need to continue hunting to fund this quest,” He says softly.

You glance up at him for a moment. “And you…came to me? Why?”

“He needs supervision, I can’t leave him alone.” He swiftly bounces around the why part of your question.

You look from him, back down at the baby. The baby watches you with wide, curious brown hues. His mouth gapes open so show small, jagged teeth underneath. One of his hands comes up to touch your chin softly.

There's an odd feeling that comes over you when he makes those little noises. The way he seems to smile, and immediately warm up to you.

“I can pay you handsomely.” The Mandalorian speaks after a few minutes of silence.

You glance back up at Mando through your lashes, he’s closer now than he was before. You’re slowly cuddling the green child into your chest as he seems to settle right into your warmth. One arm is under his bottom, and the other is behind his back to hold him firm against you.

You start to say something, but no words come out. A breath of air sneaks through as you lock onto his T-visor.

You shake your head, looking back down at the child. “M-my shop? How will…? I can’t just leave..?” You mumble out.

“Peli agreed to look over it,” Mando says.

You look back up at him once again, softly rubbing your hand over the baby’s back.

“Peli ? Now I'm confused.”

“She proposed using it for storage.”

You click your tongue, looking down at the child as he lays comfortably against your chest. “Of course she did.”

“You’ll have plenty to keep you busy aside from the child. My ship is old,” He says, his tone softening. A gentle approach. “...it always needs work.”

You look up at Mando for what feels like the hundredth time. He stands tall over you, his broad shoulders blocking the sunlight behind him. His posture is serious; stern. This is important to him. You find your eyes needlessly searching for him under the T-visor, though you know you’d never find him.

“Okay…” You speak softly, just under your breath. Almost like you didn’t mean to say it.

“Yeah?” He asks, his shoulders slouching a bit; relaxing.

“Yeah, okay.” You say again, this time it was louder. Like you were reaffirming it. Like you needed to hear your own voice to register you had just agreed. The baby in your arms coos softly in your warmth.

The Mandalorian nods, clearing his throat softly. “Thank you.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was nervous. You tell by the softness in his tone; a stark difference from what you had heard before. He was out of his comfort zone here, dealing with a child. You understood why he came to you now. He was familiar with you, and trusted you wouldn’t turn him down. He just needs help and guidance in this uncertain time for him.

“I’ll go grab a bag.” You say softly, looking down at the baby in your arms.

As you walk through the blanket that covers your private quarters, Mando can hear you whispering to the child in your arms. “ Wanna come with me, sweet boy? ” Your tone is soft and motherly, unlike what he had heard when you were dealing with that spice addict a month ago.

When he saw the look in your eyes at the sight of the child, he knew he had made the right decision coming to you.

‐-------

Chapter theme: With Love From - Aly & AJ

#din djarin #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin x you #mandalorian and grogu

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