#ALSO the fact that one of the bloodstains makes it seem like he's smirking??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 4 years ago

Text

Nemesis: Retribution (3)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, lots of angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, character death, fluff if you squint

A/N: We’re playing fast and loose with canon here people. Also thank you for the interactions. I love reading what you think and it helps me write the next chapters better. Also, I enjoy having someone to freak out with. Highlight of my life I swear to god. Enjoy!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:3 Hard Candy

Natasha stormed off the jet and into the conference room where she knew the rest of the team were waiting for them, fury radiating from her small frame. Catching sight of her target only made her grow angrier. She immediately ran up to Steve and growled up in his face causing him to immediately take a step back. Sam and Bucky were immediately alarmed, standing up to intervene and the latter's black vibranium arm whirring in preparation but Steve held up a hand to stop them.

"What the hell, Rogers? You send me on a mission with zero intel and this is what I find? Did you know?"

Steve's eyes narrowed down at her, the thick beard and longer hair adding even more to his already commanding presence. He knew exactly what Natasha was talking about and he did expect her to react this way.

"I wasn't sure, Nat. And I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if I was wrong."

"And if you were right?" she scoffed.

Steve swallowed hard before he answered, the blue in his eyes calming considerably. "I thought the three of you deserved to be the first to know."

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky asked, arms crossed on his chest and brows deeply furrowed. They didn't even know about any mission.

Natasha chuckled humorlessly and backed off from Steve. She ran a hand through her hair, the red bleeding into the old blonde color, and gestured toward the door at the approaching people.

"Well you weren't wrong, Steve."

Shock.

That was the overall theme of the day it seemed. None of them could hardly believe that you were actually standing at the doorway. It's been ten long years and you were like the ghost haunting their dreams during that time, a pure and kind soul taken far too soon. Hell, they told stories about your selfless sacrifice to the new recruits. You had unknowingly become a legend.

A legend turned ghost story.

Now you looked more like a nightmare; dried blood caked your clothes and skin, a cold smirk lifting the corner of your lips, and a dangerous unhinged glint in your eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam breathed. "Y/N?"

"Hey, Sam," you said, the almost flirtatious lilt in your voice sending a shiver down their spines. "I go by Nemesis now."

"Nemesis?" Bucky snapped out of his daze, brows raised high and his jaw clenched, features seen clearer now with his shorter hair. "The notorious mercenary Nemesis?"

"I prefer private contractor."

While they had been honoring your memory, you had been building a ruthless reputation of your own that was widely considered on par in violence with The Punisher but with the added disturbing fact that you could be hired. Of course, no one but a select few knew who you actually were.

Until today.

Nemesis. The Greek goddess of divine retribution and revenge. A name that suited the dark avenging persona you had adapted and the only purpose you now lived for. In a twisted kind of way, you were doing the same work they were only with far less finesse and none of the righteous for the good of mankind purpose they usually had.

You shrugged, sitting yourself casually down on the nearest chair on the other end of the long table from where they stood. You have had a long night, your feet were tired and they were still looking at you with absolute confusion and disbelief. This looked like it would take a while.

You rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your stained bulletproof vest, throwing it haphazardly on the table. You hazarded a glance at each one of them as you made yourself comfortable, noting the changes in them too. The years had given way to a solemn maturity to each one, it seems things had changed for them too.

"Now that I'm here, you have 12 minutes."

"12 minutes? Until what?" Steve stammered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, couldn't for the life of him reconcile the person he was seeing in front of him with the person he knew. From your expressions to your movements and even to the tone of your voice, you were just so different and yet it just seemed to make you a more magnetic presence. Fresh guilt washed over him, knowing that he had failed you as your Captain. They should have kept looking for you.

"You'll see. 11 minutes now. Either ask your questions or tell me what you want."

"We all thought you were dead," Steve muttered, taken back by your hostility.

"Well that obviously didn't stick. How did you find me, Cap?"

It was Steve who found you. At first he couldn't believe it was really you, but the split second glimpse he got of your eyes from the body cam on one of the field agents weeks ago drove him to obsessively dig further. It was a shot in the dark when he sent Natasha and the twins on the mission tonight.

"By chance," he admitted. "We've been chasing a group of people suspected to be manufacturing and selling the super soldier serum. Our agents have had a few close encounters with you. I think we're going after the same people."

"So you're asking for intel?" you snorted, absentmindedly picking at the bloodstains on your sleeves.

"No," he said cautiously, wary at how relaxed yet tightly coiled you looked. "I'm offering you your spot back with the team."

You almost choked on the laugh that just escaped your lips. You couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ridiculous proposition. Looking at their faces though it seemed that the offer was serious, although the reluctant look in their eyes at your transformation showed their inner conflict. You straightened your features and shook your head, the amused smile still on your lips.

"Look, I'm not exactly on brand for you guys anymore." You leaned forward with your arms on the table and landed your eyes squarely on Bucky's, the venom unmistakable. "Besides, I seem to recall I was deemed not cut out for this team."

Bucky felt like his soul left him at your words. There was a Molotov cocktail of emotions raging inside him; surprise, shame, relief, anger, guilt, and longing. It was killing him knowing that he had a hand in how drastically you had changed. He was deathly afraid of finding out your full story. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to beg for your forgiveness and make things right. How many chances would anyone get to redeem oneself with a ghost? He couldn't find the words though, his throat going dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Y/N, you know that's not the truth," Steve tried to insist.

"I'm not Y/N anymore and I already have a team." You waved a hand dismissively. "Also your 12 minutes are up."

All at once the power cut out in the Compound, drenching the room into darkness punctuated by the flashing emergency lights. You felt yourself get lifted off your seat and the next moment you were standing behind a formation of Avengers in the arms of the resident speedster, your arms on his chest to steady yourself from the daze of the sudden movement. His muscles were tense beneath your hands but his expression was gentle as he looked down at you.

He had wanted to rush over to you the moment you revealed your face. He wanted to hold you, jump for joy, speed around the entire city with you in his embrace. How you were alive didn't matter to him.

Only that you were.

It was only at Wanda's warning for him to stay back that he did. She showed him that you weren't the same person anymore and that they weren't sure whether you would still be friend or foe. To Pietro though, you weren't different.

You were just angry.

To him you were still his little star despite the others thinking you were closer to a supernova now. His little star was just hurting and he decided that he would do everything in his power to help you heal. He held your head tighter to his chest, intending to protect you from the anticipated danger and ready to get you to safety at a moment's notice.

"What the damn hell is going on?" Sam yelled, readying his guns.

A figure silently jumped through the window and rolled on the floor to stop right in front of the group, jolting the Avengers to defend. He stood to full height and took a fighting stance; clad in head to toe red, billy clubs at the ready, and horns glinting in the sparse light atop his head.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Let Nemesis go," he growled.

Natasha stepped forward, snapping her own batons in place. The crackling of the electricity from it sent lights to dance on the menacing expression on her face. The rest of the team watched closely the other entry points, expecting more to come in and if the first was any indication then they were in for a real fight.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, loud and not at all trying to be concealed. Walking straight through the front door, were two towering men in heavy military gear each holding an assault rifle aimed at the group. The sneer on one lent a dangerous taunting aura to his surprisingly handsome features as if to say just fucking try me. While the other had a burning steely focus that instinctively made anyone back off, the emblem on his black vest told them exactly who he was.

The Punisher.

The Avengers snapped to attention, each one drawing their weapons and aiming back. The air was crackling with animosity and fingers that itched to pull their respective triggers. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first to break the standoff in the enclosed space. Willing for someone to break it.

You laughed.

The disorientation at your reaction was palpable across the room. You patted Pietro's chest, grinning up at him in reassurance that everything was fine. He released you from his hold reluctantly and let you step out of the protective cluster they had inadvertently formed around you. The three newcomers visibly relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of you.

"Weapons down," you said calmly, eyeing each one in the room. No one budged. "All of you. Now."

Steve being the first one to lower his shield was the catalyst in diffusing what could have been the fight of the century. As outnumbered as the newcomers were, they lacked nothing in skill and precise brutality. Frank followed in lowering his weapon and soon everyone did the same. There was still tension but at least it was now reduced to intense glaring.

You tutted and shook your head as you strutted your way to your three rescuers. "What I needed was a ride home, Frankie. Not a goddamn full extraction op."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, not sounding at all apologetic and knowing you weren't really angry if the tired amusement on your face was anything to go by.

He smiled at you, that small open quirk at the corner of his mouth that was always accompanied by a roll of his tongue. He reached for you when you got close enough, drawing you close with a burly arm around the back of your shoulders. He kissed you on the forehead, a lingering gesture that clearly showed an intimacy between the two of you. The soft look on his face was reserved only for you and when he raised his face to the Avengers it was back to the cold threatening glare.

"Can you blame us though?" His voice came out gravelly, a favorite sound of yours. "The last time you were with these guys you were captured and tortured."

Tortured.

The word hung heavy in the air and though your back was turned, you could imagine the look on the faces of your former team. They didn't know about that yet. How could they when they had believed all this time that you died in the explosion?

"You forgot to mention blown up," Matt added, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He removed his helmet, floppy brown hair instantly softening his persona. He peppered kisses on your palm and the inside of your wrist as he breathed in your scent to calm his own anxiety. He almost lost it when Billy had called saying that you had been taken. He was usually the last one to jump to immediate violence in your group, but the thought of you gone filled him with irrational fear. The possibility that history could repeat itself was unacceptable to him.

"I should have come with you."

"I could handle it and Billy was with me."

"Lot of good that did," he scoffed, switching to lightly biting your wrist. This wasn't unusual. Being blind, he relied on a more intense physical reassurance that everything was still as it should be.

"They weren't gonna hurt me, Matty," you argued, but it was more to help settle his nerves.

"All right, leave the foreplay for later," the last of the trio said, pulling you by your other hand closer to him.

He held you tightly by the waist and pressed you close, molding your body to his in a practiced motion. The smile on his face was scandalous and the mischief in his eyes was one that spelled trouble. The cheeky bastard winked at you before dipping his head to lay open mouthed kisses on your neck up to your ear right along your old scars. Shivers went down your spine and you couldn't help the low hum as your body reacted instinctively to him, stepping closer still until you could feel the heat of his body through his gear.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was always the quickest to show affection in front of company, but this was a particularly golden opportunity for him to stake his claim in front of people he believed did not value you enough. Billy wouldn't be Billy if he didn't take it.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Across the room, the Avengers watched on with blatant curiosity at the apparent intimately familiar exchanges. It wasn't as much the fact that three men were bathing you with affection, but more that this cemented how far removed you were from their memory of you. They knew you as a starry-eyed recruit who stuttered at light teasing and preening at the slightest validation.

"Y/N," Steve called for you, forcing you to step away from Billy for the moment. You turned around to face them but Billy didn't let you go far, slinging his arm over your chest and this time contorting his body to yours.

"I told you, Steve. I'm not Y/N anymore," you said, a fleeting sadness flashed in your eyes before it was replaced with a firm pride. "And this is my team."

"We're taking our girl home," Frank declared, the threat underneath didn't need to be verbalized. If they took you again, it wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Wait!" Steve said urgently, halting your exit. "We'll hire you."

It was a last ditch effort. He was grasping at straws to keep you from disappearing from their lives again. He knew that if you walked out that door now there was no chance of ever getting you back. He just could not let that happen. This would only be temporary at best, but at least it would buy him time to convince you of a more permanent arrangement.

"Not interested."

"Nem." Matt as usual cautioned you from being too hasty. "Is this about the syndicates?"

You sighed. Matt was like a dog with a bone now. There was no choice but to let him chew on it. This was particularly important to him because the syndicates had been running amok in Hell's Kitchen and he was starting to find it difficult to keep his backyard clean.

"Yeah, apparently the stuff we found in the shipment yard was for making super soldier serums. The Avengers have been following the trail too."

"Why not just join forces then? We can get this done and over with a lot faster with their help," he reasoned.

"We're doing fine on our own, Matty."

"Matt has a point, sweetheart," Frank cut in. "We've been chasing this for years. I know a part of you is just itching to end all of this."

"It might help us find him faster. Do you really want to spend another ten years pulling at threads?" Matt added.

You closed your eyes, hands clenching at your sides to control your anger. It grated at you when they ganged up on you like this, but your anger was more because they were right and you knew it. You hated it, but they were right.

It was Billy who intervened, pulling you again to hug you from behind. His hold was firmer than before, aimed more to calm your shaking body. His voice came out calm, but resolute. His first priority was always making sure you were okay and you obviously weren't okay with this.

"You heard the lady. It's a no."

Frank and Matt sighed and shook their heads, but backed off. They weren't about to push you about this no matter how much they knew this would help you. They'll try again to convince you later, but they weren't optimistic. It was fortunate for them that there was more than just one stubborn person in the room.

"Please," Steve interrupted. You had almost forgotten that there were other people in the room. Almost. "We need your help. They have someone who keeps getting in our way and every time we get close he either fights us long enough for the trail to grow cold or leads us on wild goose chases. We can't let that serum be available to whoever can pay for it."

He didn't know what it was that he said that made all of your heads snap in his direction. Your eyes in particular were suddenly wild with barely restrained fury. He would take it. At least he had your attention.

"We can't let that happen, Nemesis," he finished, making sure to use your preferred name. Anything to possibly get himself into your good graces.

"Do you have a name?" you ground out.

"What?"

"A name, Steve. Do you know who this guy is?"

"By the way he fights he seems to be a merc too. Looks like military background though from where I'm not sure," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words in the hopes of you changing your mind. "He goes by Salvacion."

"We're in."

Earth's Mightiest was stunned at the sudden reversal of your decision. As firm as you had rejected the offer, you were jumping at it now with the addition of your own team.

"Let's get one thing straight though, Cap," you began, the rage still burning in your eyes like wildfire. "My team and I will work with you. It's all of us or none of us. We'll help you lock up the syndicates and destroy the serum. We'll play nice, but Salvacion is mine."

Steve took a deep breath, relieved that you had agreed but also deeply concerned at your visceral reaction to a name. He had to ask.

"Why?"

"Because that's the motherfucker who killed my sister."

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

A/N: I feel like you guys have more questions now. Come freak out with me through the comments and reblogs! I write faster when people freak out with me. It’s the truth. Now that you’ve seen our girl with ALL our strapping men, what do you think? Who are you most curious about now?

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

Series Tag List (Open - Can’t Tag Crossed Out):

@anythingwriter @kamalymaly @lazyloki @marvelfansworld @blackbirddaredevil23 @purechaosss @iloveangstposts @onesmokinbabe @jojodojo02 @spookyparadisesheep @strawb3rrydr3ss @studentdoctorstark @siriushxney @hopplessdreamer @paryl @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @writingmi @thatguppienamedbae @hxpelessxcean @waywardwifey @hotleaf-juice

Permanent Tag List (Open):

@alwaysclassyeagle @closetbtstrash @fanofalltheficsx @unlikelygalaxygiver @alyispunk @fckdeusername @milkyway-writes @dumb-ass-writer

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

714 notes · View notes

bakubub · 3 years ago

Text

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00 for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

150 notes · View notes

cloud9in · 3 years ago

Note

You’re the only one who’s writing poppy x mc fics sooo, i have a request “ bea is a bad girl (like in a gang) in high school and also went jail couple of times for getting in trouble in high school senior year poppy was new transfer student and after 2 months bea join back school and met poppy bea and they just click yk like a connection slowly they started dating and in school everyone was shocked to see bea in a relationship ( bad girl and new girl) poppy is always worried about bea and few days before graduation bea got hurt really bad and poppy gives bea 2 options that she has to choose between her or her this (gang).. bea didn’t say anything to her so poppy left, after 2/3 years they met in college bea was a different person but so does poppy they become enemies (no one knows why they hate each other) one day they were arguing and poppy shout at her and says why you're back and bea put her hand on her cheek and smile and say i am here to win you back because i love you 😬

Promises (Poppy x MC)

Part 1/?

Can i just say I'm absolutely invested in this plot? You've got me hooked on my own story, as hectic as my life is, this is enjoyable to write. I hope you like it as well @iamsimpforpoppy

Word count: 1.8k (i got carried away)

“You know what to do Jackson, same old shit.”

“Yeah but it feels like a movie every damn time”, Bea responds confidently as she unbuckles her seatbelt. She sports a black mask with a yellow bandana, a vivacious color worn by only the Southside Spades, a notorious street gang who were known for robbery, and occasional blood.

Bea found herself wrapped up in the world of gangs when she turned sixteen. But before that the brunette would assist in transporting goods, also known as hardcore drugs. There was plenty enough to go around so Bea could indulge in any she wanted. Drugs didn’t give her the high she craved though, instead it was the thrilling game of cat and mouse with the cops.

Every now and then she’d get thrown in the slammer overnight. But this particular evening earns her one year in the NY State Penitentiary. See, the cops never gathered significant evidence to build a case against her, even though she was well aware of Detective Steinhelm who had some sick obsession with her. Following her everywhere, until Bea confronted her directly after noticing the same black sedan parked a street down from her house.

But she played the game right, and nothing ever led back to her. Until now.

“Where’s the money Bradley? I feel like I’ve been kissing your ass all week, the boss needs it now.”

A skinny blonde boy who looks like he had better days grunts in annoyance, “You’ll get your money...I’m just a little short right now.”

“Time’s up Ken doll, you know Carter will have your head for this.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Maybe this can be between us…”, Bradley strides carefully towards the blonde, a disturbing grin on his face which screams junkie. “Back the hell up now.”

Bea pulled her knife out with ease and pointed it towards him. She didn’t plan on actually using it. Murder was way out her budget for a simple money pickup but she knew that it would scare the boy easily. Except he kicked the blade out of her hold which prompted it to screech across the concrete before coming to a stop. Before Bea could think her fists reacted as she intercepted a punch that aimed straight for her jaw. She twists Bradley’s arm and he falls on his knees in pain. With his back to her, she kicks him down until he’s flat on his stomach.

“What is it exactly that you plan on doing now Bradley?” The blonde boy struggles under Bea’s foot but manages to reach around and slash at her ankle with a surprise shiv. Bea yelps in pain before kicking his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Stupid idiot. Had to make this harder than it should’ve been.”

Bea eventually finds the stash of money hidden under his mattress, an amateur hiding place at best. She congratulated herself for another job accomplished (kinda) and headed home. What the seventeen year old didn’t expect was the repulsive sound of a siren filling her ears as she stepped out onto her driveway. Her blood rushed to her head when she spotted Detective Steinhelm among the police officers surrounding her and retorts, “oh come on. I thought I told them about you harassing me. What do you want? Back here to strip search me again?”

The older woman only watches the blonde in eerie silence before smiling and gesturing to a police officer. “Beatriz Jackson you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law-”

“What the actual fuck!” Bea yanks her arms out of the officers reach which initiates a struggle for dominance. This was nothing new to her, but it still felt sickening. Like she was some pet.

“You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire.” Detective Steinhelm finishes speaking and approaches the still scuffling blonde, “if you keep resisting I will tase you myself.”

Bea bites back the urge to headbutt the old hag right in her stupid face but she didn’t need any extra charges, for whatever the hell it was she was being charged for.

“Tell me why the fuck I am being arrested and I’ll calm down.”

That’s when Bea notices a familiar (bruised up) face from earlier. His smirk was enough to eat at her skin and she felt burning hot rage.

“Your blood was found at the scene of Mr. Denbroughs assault. You are being arrested in the case of second degree assault with intent to hurt someone with a deadly weapon.”

***

Bea only got one year in prison due to her kickass lawyer Ina Kingsley who played the minor card at every opportunity given. She also pointed out the fact that the knife wasn’t bloodstained, and Bradley never had any stab wounds so there is no proof the weapon was ever used against him. And it technically wasn’t. Good thing she didn’t bring a gun instead.

She did miss her 18th birthday though. And a few months of her senior year. But that’s what summer classes were for right?

All eyes were on the blonde when she returned, and whispers spread throughout the school about a certain new girl. Bea paid no mind to the fingers that pointed in her direction but the newcomer did manage to catch her attention, and pretty quick at that.

“Hey Jackson, how was solitary confinement?”

“I heard they make you use the bathroom right through the tiny food slot.”

Bea rolls her eyes and pelts a piece of not-so-fresh bread right at Ford’s head. The other people at the table join in on the laughter and Bea shakes her head and smiles, “it was Juvie you dumbass, and they made us sit in a circle together every Thursday like we were in an AA meeting.

“That’s jail for babies, goldilocks here wouldn’t last a minute in a real prison”, Carter joins them at the table with a cocky smirk, yet his eyes soften when landing on Bea. She shares a similar look with him knowing they’ll have a real conversation later. Because they definitely didn’t get to have that when Bea was getting dragged away to the police station in cuffs, and every event after that.

“It’s our girl’s first day out, we have to celebrate. And it’s not like she’s on probation...right Bea?”

“I do have a curfew, and I’m on juvenile probation so…when we partying?” The crew laughs as Bea shrugs. Her mother will deal with it. Zoey scoots in next to the blonde and wraps her arm around her shoulder in a side hug. “So glad to have you back Bea, and we are not risking you breaking parole so let’s just go to a sport’s bar tonight.”

Bea nods her head in agreement as the first warning bell goes off and everyone starts to clean up. Zoey taps on her arm and points towards one of the farther tables where a lone figure sits, wiping her hands with a napkin. All Bea saw were blonde tresses until she turned and they made brief eye contact.

“She’s the new girl, Poppy Min Sinclair. Rumor is she’s got a rich white daddy. You should totally invite her to the party.”

“And why would I do that?”

Zoey squints her eyes and leans in closer, her hands under chin in thought, “she seems like the broody type, you two would click.” She laughs at Bea’s comical expression but the blonde can’t bother to look in her direction, she’s way too wrapped up in what little the stranger a few tables away had to offer. She would sit on that thought, Bea was not one to shy away from anything.

***

The two became friends quicker than anyone could think.

One day after school, Poppy’s car wouldn’t start. It just didn’t comply. You would think she’d be poised and call her mechanic to come fix it, but instead the blonde slumped against the driver’s side window and let out a visibly frustrated, high-pitched yelp. Bea watched her pace around the car and even...kick?...the front bumper with her heels in efforts to wake it up.

“You know I may be wrong but I think that only makes it worse..” She approaches the helpless blonde with a small grin. Poppy’s persistence amazed her though, she’s never seen anyone determined to beat a car up. An expensive one at that.

“I hope you have some idea how to fix it, unless you’re here to waste my time and ask me on a date.”

Woah.

Okay that definitely threw Bea on a whim. She lets out a sharp laugh and bites her lips in amusement. She strolls towards the front of her car, holding Poppy’s gaze the whole way. She liked that the blonde didn’t avert her eyes. “And if I did? We couldn’t take your car of course, it’s obviously impaired.”

Poppy smiles and turns to look at Bea properly. She checks out every inch of her with no visible shame. An assessment so to say, and she likes what she sees.

“It’s your lucky day Poppy, I happen to know a thing or three about cars, and I desperately want to get this thing working so we can go on that date.” She winks playfully but god does she mean it. Bea silently prayed that the blonde wouldn’t take it the wrong way, but she knew she won when Poppy didn't protest, instead getting comfortable under some shade and holding her hand out, “the stage is all yours Jackson.”

***

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I can’t jump over this obvious not-so-protected fence?”

“Judging by the sign right next to it that says...oh wow who would’ve thought, “DO NOT ENTER”, I don’t think so”, Poppy deadpans. It didn’t phase Bea of course because she was already halfway up the fence when the blonde turned away from the sign. The girl had a point to prove, maybe not a valid one, but still a point.

Poppy pinches her eyebrows in exasperation before looking back up to a nonchalant Bea swinging her legs from the top of the fence. She winks down at the blonde, “join me?”

Poppy didn’t expect to be climbing fences with a charismatic girl who had the same color hair as her when she moved schools, but she found herself embracing every moment of it. Although the trip up there was a struggle and some.

“I swear to god there’s a wire in my ass.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And we’re both going to end up in the hospital. Get. me. Down.”

Bea tries to hold in her laughter the whole way down but lets it loose when she sees Poppy still up there, partly hovering in the air. “Pops...I’ll catch you, don't worry. Climb down slowly.” She doesn’t. But Bea had her feet planted and ready because any moment with the sassy blonde was unpredictable. And she loved it. Especially because she had Poppy engulfed in her arms and they were so close their noses touched.

Bea promised herself she’d kiss the girl next time.

***

“You’re...in a gang?”

Bea felt a clasp of cold air enter her lungs as she stared ahead. It wasn’t like she could hide it from Poppy. She has a reputation, and word has gotten around about the two getting close. This was just like that one time at the end of sophomore year where Bea met Kelly Hall, a beautiful girl with golden rimmed glasses. Unfortunately she only could imagine what could’ve been after whispers ended up right on the doorstep of Kelly’s parents, and she suddenly changed her number, and switched out of every class she had with Bea.

The blonde didn’t want to entertain the thought of Poppy doing the same, but this was a lifestyle she chose.

“I mean...how?”

Bea sighs and turns to look at her, “I fell into the wrong crowd. Or maybe it’s the right one because I never found a true home until I met them. They’re family, I wouldn’t expect you to get it though and I understand if you want to distance-”

“I of all people know what it’s like to not fit in Jackson. You’ve found people who make you feel safe. Maybe I don’t agree with the troubles that come with being in a gang but I don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you want to?”

Poppy wraps her arms around Bea’s and lays her head on her shoulder, “I want to know that you won’t get yourself hurt but I know that’s nearly impossible.”

Bea exhales slowly, not knowing what to say. She knew that this would upset Poppy but her acceptance meant more. She didn’t know what this would mean for the two of them, if there was a “them”, but she felt more encouraged to share more of her other life with the blonde.

“Just promise me one thing Jackson.”

“Yeah?”

Poppy’s voice comes out softer than expected, and Bea ingests every emotion that comes with it, “Promise me you won’t ever put yourself in a position where you have to choose between me or the gang.”

Bea finds her hand in the space where their thighs touched and latches onto it like a lifebuoy,

“I promise.”

***

“I just remembered something Poppy.”

“What, that you have half a brain cell? I thought that was established Jackson.”

Bea launches a pillow that (purposely) misses Poppy’s head by an inch. If she actually hit her and frizzed up her locks then she’d never hear, or see..or walk again.

“I’m being serious. I just remembered this too, we never went on that car date we talked about.”

Poppy squints her eyes in confusion, but was fully aware of what Bea was referring to. “You mean the first time we met?”

The blonde smiles to herself as she replayed that day in her head over and over again. She couldn’t decide if Bea’s openly flirty behavior is what drew her in or if it was her ability to fix any of her possessions with ease. And for free.

Bea pulls Poppy up by her hands until her back is against the lockers. Another perfect opportunity for the blonde to make do of that promise she made to herself, but something told her to wait just a bit longer. “So what do you say? Poppy Min Sinclair, will you go on a date with me?”

Poppy rolls her eyes playfully, pulling Bea in closer by the collar of her letterman, “now who’s being dramatic?”

“I didn’t hear a no”

“I think you know what the answer is.”

That night Zoey helped Bea prep for her first date with the girl that she could say she was almost in love with. The taller girl brushed some dust off of Bea’s jacket and planted her hands on her shoulders, “remember Jackson, give her the ride of her life. And I mean that in every way possible.”

Thanks Zoe.

Bea watched Poppy drive up in front of her house and something inside her mind couldn’t deny the pang her heart let out when she saw Poppy smile the way she did.

Bea took control of the driving and told Poppy to recline her seat and enjoy the ride, with her seatbelt on of course. Safe sacrifices. They cruised through an empty highway blasting Poppy’s spotify playlist named “Rich Bitch Songs” because that was their ideal perfect date. It’s amazing that the two could even come to an agreement, but here we are.

She watched the beautiful blonde sing her lungs out and couldn’t help but mirror her joy, taking her hands off the steering wheel. The pump of adrenaline prompts a new excitement in the air and Poppy wraps Bea into a secure hug, her hair flying wildly with the wind. Bea slows the car down but the rapid beating of her heart made it seem they were going 100 miles per second.

“I feel so alive Jackson.”

Bea stared at the girl in the passenger seat with a look that could only be described as love.

“You make me feel alive.”

Poppy kept talking and Bea found a way to focus on both the road and the blonde next to her. Because when you truly enjoy something, you’ll find a way to keep experiencing it. And Bea enjoyed hearing Poppy’s voice, she loved everything about her.

“I feel like kissing you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“...Nothing. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

They kiss when Bea pulls over. A hot feeling consumes them like fire when their tongues collide and Bea plants her hands around Poppy’s hips, pushing her back into her seat until she’s on top. The windows easily start to fog up in reaction to the heat, and not once did they take their hands off each other.

Promise 1/2 kept

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

End Note: This chapter was to build their relationship, more angst incoming. BIG THANKS to @somewillwin for letting me use Jackson <3333

Taglist: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog @a-ghost-girl

#poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #mc x poppy #a huge bug flew onto my screen during the writing process #gave me motivation to HURRY MY AAAAAAASSS UP

89 notes · View notes

bailey-reaper · 3 years ago

Note

How about Barok's SO taking care of his scars? I imagine after so many murder attempts his body is quite scarred and that has to hurt from time to time

Stigmata

Notes: I think you’re right, anon. Barok’s lived a life of assassination attempts and there’s no way he’d have escaped all of them unscathed -- as his face proves, but he probably has more marks than that...

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: blood mention; reference to wounds; physical harm; violence reference

"B..Barok?!” they stood, wide-eyed looking at him as he stretched up to reach something from atop one of the dressers in their bedroom, “Are you alright?”

“Mmm?” he glanced over, confused by the obvious distress on their face, “What is it? What’s wrong, love?” he followed the direction they were pointing in to a growing patch of red that was spreading over his poet shirt like a drop of ink across paper. He tsked, “... So that one hasn’t closed up still...”

“That one?” they came closer to inspect the growing patch of red, “What happened?”

“... A few weeks ago I was embroiled in another assassination attempt and I carelessly failed to take out the thug armed with a crossbow first. I ended up taking a bolt to the torso, but I’ve had it checked over and all is fine with it. The physician did say that it might take some time to heal, given its positioning...”

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me?! The last thing I’d have you doing is reaching up and straining it if I’d known!” they gently slapped his arm in admonishment.

Barok smiled fondly and kissed their forehead, “It’s not the first time I’ve been nicked, love, and it won’t be the last... I’m so used to the attacks now that they feel relatively unremarkable...”

“Well they AREN’T unremarkable,” came the firm correction from his beloved as they shooed him to the bed, “Let me have a look at it! This instant!”

The demand seemed to fluster him as he was firmly directed to the bed, “... Um...” a blush was playing on his cheeks, because this would be the first time they’d seen him without a top on; it was a small thing, admittedly, but it was something he saw as intimate, “... Love, are you sure?”

“YES!” they didn’t quite seem to appreciate the thing that was on his mind.

“....” he chuckled softly, they were so cute when they were focused upon a task and paid no heed to things like decorum or pleasantries. It clearly came from a place of deep concern, and that in itself felt precious to him. They loved him; they worried for him; they wanted to check that he was okay... “Very well...” he unbuttoned the bloodstained shirt and set it aside on a chair.

Sure enough, there was an angry wound on his side; small, but in a place where any kind of bending down or stretching up would aggravate it. The wound was weeping blood and the surrounding pallid skin was flushed from inflammation, “... Does it hurt?” they asked.

“... No more than usual,” he replied, “It’s more of an inconvenience than anything debilitating...”

“I’ll get some bandages!” they hurried off to get the necessary supplies.

While they were gone, Barok looked in the mirror. It was something he did rarely, on account of finding his body rather unsightly due to the tapestry of violence and survival that was painted across it in marks of varying lengths and widths. It was testament to the fact his enemies had not succeeded, but it was also a record of their undying hatred.

“Okay!” they hurried in with a flannel, bandages and a bottle of alcohol, “Let me clean it,” he moved over to the bed and laid down on his side so they could sit beside him and use the flannel to wipe away the blood that had started to well up. After drying it, they applied a little alcohol and winced apologetically when he hissed from the burn, “... S... sorry...” he grunted, as if to suggest it was fine. Finally, they applied bandages to it, “... There... hopefully that should help it to heal a little better.”

“..... Thank you, my beloved...” it felt strange to have someone tend to him like this. No one had bothered for quite some time, save for medical professionals when his wounds were so significant that he needed actual treatment. He was used to applying his own tourniquets and salves. It was second nature to him these days; so to have someone else doing it was both a novelty and a luxury.

Suddenly he noticed that they were blushing; and he knew why, “Hmmm?” he smirked, “What is it? You seem to have lost all that fury and fire you had a moment ago...”

“O...Oh.. um!” their rose-tinted face was such a delight, “... No.. I just... um... I am so sorry for being so... forceful and .. making you undress like that.”

Barok laughed, “... You need not apologise my dear, not after you’ve repaid me with such an adorable reaction,” he sat up and kissed their flushed cheeks, “Still... this isn’t quite how I expected you to see me in a state of undress. I’ll put a shirt on now, if I’m permitted...?”

“... Y..Yes,” they uttered while nodding, “Of course you may!”

“Thank you,” he went to don a new, unbloodied poet shirt.

#barok van zieks #Barok x Ors #fluff #request

40 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Lines || XII

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Introducing....David’s king 😏🥰

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII || PART IX || PART X || PART XI

PART XII of XX

Translations:

не против - Don’t mind

ти си моето семејство, во овој и во следниот живот - You’re my family, in this life, and the next.

Count: 5,633

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Ah..."

The sound made you stop, pulling your mouth away as you stood straighter while licking your lips.

Wanda stood in front of you, breathless as she leaned against the wall, unable to move too much with the tight space. Her hands drifted from your neck to rest on your biceps. Turning, you look at the mirror before you.

Eyes red with stained lips, you internally sighed, feeling an uncomfortable pit in your stomach that told you everything felt both right and wrong.

"I think that's enough..." You say quietly so Wanda can hear, but you don't attract too much attention outside. You turn to grab some paper towels from the dispenser as you wet them under the sink to wipe your mouth.

Turning to Wanda, you notice you hadn't closed up the wound on her neck and purse your lips. The brunette seems to realize as well as she tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck to you once more before she grabs the edge of your bomber jacket and pulls you back against her roughly.

"Wanda," you call her name in warning. Though you are a seasoned vampire, you weren't looking to dance along the edge with the newly feeding you have to do.

"You should finish me off before you say you're done at least," Wanda says, and you feel yourself biting your tongue at how suggestive she sounds.

You wonder if she's doing it on purpose.

Nonetheless, you sigh, leaning your head down, careful to not brush yourself more against her than you must. You lick at the bite wounds, tentatively but quickly, watching the wounds close after.

You pull away, Wanda letting her grip go on you. You use the wet towel to wipe her neck clean of the bloodstains before you throw it down the toilet and flush.

Though feeding gives you energy and revitalizes you, you can't help but feel drained from the experience.

You're about to leave again when Wanda pulls you back.

"Wanda," you say in a more serious warning this time. She's been a little more daring the past couple of days, and you're both intrigued and frightened by it.

Luckily for you, Wanda seems to know where the line is.

"Relax," Wanda cocks her brow. "Your eyes are still glowing red. You should wait until it subsides before you go out."

You look back in the mirror, eyes glowing red brightly, and you sighed. Your body was overly excited about feeding again, and it would take time to adjust.

The two of you idly stand in the small space. You could hear people coming back and forth to check if the washroom is empty.

"So, how often is often?" Wanda asks.

You stand stiffly, cursing at how small airplane washrooms are.

"For now, once a week," you answer her. "But let me know if you feel unwell, and I will check to see if it's my venom."

Wanda nods, blinking languidly.

"I'm sorry," you say when you notice she looks tired. "I promise I will find a way to fix this."

Wanda gave you a tiny smirk.

"No rush."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When you returned to your seat, you sat down with a sigh.

"You alright?" Natasha asked as she grabbed your hand. You turn to look at David. He was clutching his legs in tighter so that Wanda could squeeze past him to her seat.

"Yeah, sorry for taking so long. The red in my eyes are still adjusting to fresh blood," you apologize to Natasha, pulling her hand to kiss the back of it gently before you settle in your seat.

It was just you and Natasha in the aisle, a small moment of peace that you're thankful for. It's been rather quiet between you and Natasha the last few days. When David had located Leo's descendant, he wanted to book the flight for the next day, but you insisted on taking a couple days to get your things together and rest.

The days that followed were simply being in your home with Natasha, quiet as it seemed like Natasha was working through her own emotions and things she seemed not ready quite yet to speak to you about.

And you were okay with that.

"Have you been to Nashville before?" Natasha asks as she looks out the window, the city getting closer in view as it lowers.

You nod, rubbing your thumb idly on the back of her hand. "Yes," you say, "In fact, David and I lived there for a few years."

"Oh?" Natasha smiles. "Did you like it?"

You shrug. "It's a little too country for me and not the good parts of Country culture."

Natasha nods, and you take a moment to put your head on her shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent of vanilla and dry leaves. Natasha leans her head over, pressing her lips to the side of your head, causing your heart to flutter.

"I think I want to be in Bora Bora or maybe the Maldives," Natasha says softly after a moment.

You turn your head upwards slightly, peering up at Natasha's face.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," you say as Natasha smiles, head lowering as she presses her lips against yours.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It seems like autumn is also coming to an end in Nashville, the air smelling a little crisper for winter arrival.

Pietro has called Wanda again once her plane landed. He was a little upset that he couldn't come along, but Steve said he could use the help with locating Bucky, and speed would definitely be helpful.

At first, Pietro declined, but then Wanda insisted that he go with Steve. If they were going to make up for the things they've done and be a part of the team, this was the time to show it.

And so, they parted ways for the first time since, well, ever.

"How are we getting there?" Wanda asked as she looked around the airport. Her face held a thinly veiled layer of discomfort that she was trying to hide, though poorly.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as she looked at Wanda, seeing through the tough act.

Wanda stared at Natasha, and for a moment, you don't think she's going to answer.

"Yeah," Wanda says finally, licking her lips and swallowing. "I'm just a little tired...and there's a lot of people here. It's...loud."

Natasha looks around and notes that it seems to be prime time for flights. People are bustling around trying to get to their gate on time, and families have gathered to meet people coming off the plane or say goodbye.

"I can't do anything about the loudness," Natasha says, digging into her pocket. "But, here." Pulling out a hard candy wrapped in transparent paper, she gives it to Wanda.

Wanda holds the candy in her palm, tilting her head slightly before she looks back at Natasha. "Thanks."

"Might help with the tiredness," Natasha shrugs before she tells you she'll go grab the bags and walks off with David following her.

Wanda is opening the candy from the wrapper, popping the little thing in her mouth as she sighs, eyes fluttering close as she rubs her temple.

"Headache?" You ask her, garnering her attention.

Wanda nods with a frown. "Yes, more so lately, and it's worse in a crowd. I can hear everything in people's heads, and in a crowd, it's a jumble."

"Turn it off," you tell her with a shrug, and she gives you a look.

"It's not that easy."

"It is," you tell her back. "You're like a radio picking up every station is the available area. It gets easier with time and practice to distinguish the noise, but if you can't handle it in such a large crowd, turn it off."

Wanda merely stares at you as if she doesn't know whether or not to believe you, but she supposes because it's not like you're a stranger to her powers, she sighs.

"How?" She asks.

You come to stand closer to her, blocking her view of anything behind you.

"Focus," you tell her, "You only need to be hearing one voice, and that's your own. Focus on the space within your own mind. Live there."

Wanda gives you a look where it tells you she doesn't quite think it will work but closes her eyes with a sigh and takes a deep breath.

"I...I can't focus," Wanda says frustratingly.

"Relax," you tell her. "Try again, but this time, focus on my voice."

You go on to talk about miscellaneous things like the color of the walls, the scuff marks on the ground, the man with an obstinately ugly hat. And before you know it, the stress lines on Wanda's face begin to fade.

"Better?" You ask when she opens her eyes.

"Yeah," Wanda says breathlessly with relief, "Thank you."

You don't say anything else as Natasha comes back with David.

"So, how are we getting there?" Wanda repeats.

"We rented a car. I'll go grab it and pull it up front," you walk off before anyone say anything.

The ride is silent, with just a radio playing quietly in the background. It's you and David in the front as David helps you navigate and discuss details with you.

But that leaves Natasha and Wanda in the back. The two girls are on opposite ends, looking out the window.

You sigh internally as you focus on the road in front of you.

"What's his name again?"

David pulls up a file. "Robert," he says after a moment. "Devayan. He is Leonard's great-great-grandson. He's the priest for a church in his neighborhood. Well-known and respected in his community. He's got a wife, two kids, and a dog—very American dream with a picket fence and all."

You hum.

"Does Leonard's descendants know about...?" Natasha asks as you look in the rearview mirror.

"Us being vampires?" You supply for her helpfully with a smile as she nods. "Yes, they do, but the secret is only passed to the child who has the greatest alchemy affinity, which most kids won't show until they're at least 13."

"That being said," David jumps in, "we haven't really kept in touch because we only go to a descendant when we have another vampire entering a coven because they have to get the searings to be able to go into the sun, amongst other things. And as you can see, we haven't added anyone new since me."

You turn into a bright community. The sound of children's laughter and dogs barking make their way to your ear. It's a lively little suburban neighborhood, and you wonder if this was something you would have ever wanted.

"Leonard seemed to be really close to you, to be willing to do so much," Wanda comments as she continues to stare at the window at the children playing.

You pull up to the house, putting the car in park with a sigh.

"He was family."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Sorry, the wife and kid's are out shopping right now."

You look at the man before you. He was a young priest, and there were hints of Leo that you recognized in him, like the subtle ginger hair.

"Didn't want to tag along?" David asks, and Robert laughs.

"Goodness, no. Can't say that's how I like to pass my time." Robert sets down a tea tray for the four of you, and Wanda takes up the task of pouring it. Putting in a splash of milk and two and a half sugar cubes, she gives a cup to you.

"Thanks," you say, scrunching your eyebrows initially. But it was your favorite way of taking simple tea, and you took it with ease.

"не против," Wanda mutters as she continues on with pouring tea for Natasha and David, but leaves them to put in their own condiments.

"So, what's this about?" Robert asks as he settles into his seat.

You shift in your seat a little, licking your lip before you clear your throat and bring his attention to you. "Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is a mystery, and today, I have you..."

Robert just stares at you wide-eyed and mouth gaped open. He seems to regain himself and clears his own throat.

"Until the days run out..." he breathes.

"ти си моето семејство, во овој и во следниот живот," you both complete the passage. His Slavic being much rougher than yours, but still, he completes it.

"Huh," Robert grunts in the back of his throat. He slumps in the back of his chair, blinking as he clasps his hands together. "You really exist."

"Did you think I didn't?" You cocked your brow at him.

Robert gives a short, humorless laugh. "To be fair, no one in my family has seen you for a very, very long time. It's not like we have a family photo of you just lying around. I thought my grandfather was lying to me, and my father was not a believer either."

"Well," you shrug, "It gets hard to keep up with visitations when there's no reason to really."

"Even though the passage literally says we're family?" Robert cocks his brow.

"Leo was my family. By that extension, yes, you are somewhat family, a wonderful legacy Leo left behind that I promised him I'd take care of," you try to delicately tell the man before you that no one could ever be family the way Leo was.

"Kind of hard to take care of us when you're not around," Robert says, but not in an unkind way.

"Being around is not the only way I can fulfill my promise. You truly think your family's trust fund just comes out of nowhere?" You rest your jaw against your hand.

Robert seems surprised at that like he had no idea his entire family line was sponsored by you.

"So it seems," Robert smiled softly before clearing his throat. "So what can I do for you?"

You lick your lips.

"I'm looking for you to find a way to break my curse, or at least, find a counterspell to suppress it until I can find another way," you tell him.

Robert stares at you. It takes a long moment, but he gives another small smile, sighing deeply as he grasps his temples. "Hah..." he lets out. "Figures the one time you come to see us for help, and I can't even help you. I was hoping you just needed a place to stay."

"What do you mean?" David asks, frowning. "You haven't even tried."

Robert looks up again, staring at David before he turns to you.

"I don't have the affinity for alchemy."

Silence ensues after Robert reveals his lack of gift.

"You...don't have the affinity..." David says slowly.

"Guess it decided to skip a generation. My father wasn't much of a practitioner either," Robert pursed his lips together. He gets up, walking over to the kitchen, grabbing something off the refrigerator before coming back and passing the item to you. "This would be the person to go to if you're looking for help on that."

You look at the postcard in your hand with an address from Vermont.

There wasn't anything else but a name and a short message.

Liam Bai I have settled in.

"And who is this?" You frown. The idea of having some outsider know your secrets was not ideal.

Robert sighs.

"He's my adoptive brother."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The annoyance of traveling all the way to Texas just to go to Vermont, an hour away from New York, irks you slightly.

David pulls up a file on Liam on the way, but not too much is found.

Chinese descendant. 26. Tattoo Artist. Adopted by Robert's grandfather when Liam was 17.

He seems to run a small tattoo shop in Vermont, a decent following on his Instagram. Other than that, it seemed Liam prized his privacy and peace. No tickets, no personal social media accounts, a minimal online presence.

"Jeeze, this guy gives me serial killer vibes. Only weirdoes have such a small digital footprint," David curls his lips.

"We all have virtually none too, David," you cock your brow at him.

"Case and point," David smirks back at you while Natasha and Wanda chuckle.

Liam's house is a little away from the city where his tattoo shop resides. There are houses but quite spread apart, and it only reaffirms how Liam likes his quiet.

The trees are bare with autumn colored leaves on the ground. The air crisp and cleaner being away from the city. When the four of you approach Liam's home, it a quaint house, wider than it is taller, and painted a deep burned orange.

Hopping up the steps, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently, turning to look at the open space while Natasha rang the doorbell and knocked on the door with her knuckles.

You hear footsteps within the house, stern steps as they lazily make their way to the door.

When it opens, you turn, and your eyes widen along with everybody else's.

This man, at least six feet tall, towers over everyone as he casually lifts his arms high to lean against each side of the door with his left leg crossed lazily over his right.

He wears a muscle shirt, most of the top part of his body exposed.

Tattoos.

Everywhere.

A large black ornate religious cross tattooed on his throat, while you could see most of the creations of hands branded across his front chest near his collarbones, fingers just about it meet at his jugular notch. Each arm had a full sleeve tattoo.

His left arm was designed with a twisted snake going downwards, a bitten apple in its mouth, shrouded with leaves and vines. His right arm were things you didn't quite recognize but could guess it was alchemy spells, fully tattooed elaborate circles and symbols. Even his hands and fingers had symbols and shapes.

He looks like belongs in a gang rather than the adopted grandson of a long line of priests.

"Well," his voice is somewhat low but soft. "You must be the visitors my dear brother sent my way." The way he says dear brother has the slightest tone of amusement, and you're not sure what to make of it.

You stare at him a bit longer because his face is much clearer than the photo David pulled up. His skin is fair with a cool complexion, thick brows, and tousled black hair that seems to be perfectly styled that way with his fringe cascading just above his eyebrows, parting to reveal his forehead. His almond-shaped eyes showed a deep dark brown, like the rich soils of the earth, but yet hold no warmth.

He looks somewhat familiar, but you're not sure if it's just because you recognize those eyes in yourself once upon a time.

You look over to David, who has his jaw hanging as he stares at the man before them. You nudge him, drawing him out of whatever trance he was in as he coughs to clear his throat.

"Er, yes," David stutters before he rambles off everyone's name quickly. "Can I--can we come in?" David blinks, and Liam turns his head slowly, locking eyes with David. A moment passes, and you're about to speak up again when Liam stands straighter and turns to walk back into his house.

The four of you follow the man inside, looking at the place around you. Antique furniture, just like yourself, but there are shelves upon shelves of books.

Liam walks into his kitchen, putting on a pot of hot coffee as he pours himself some, but doesn't offer any to anyone else. He then walks into his study room and leans against his desk, half-sitting on the edge.

"What are you looking for help with?" He asks, neither sounding reluctant or eager.

"Robert mentioned you were adopted into the family because you had an affinity for alchemy," you say. "I'm assuming you know--"

"That you're a vampire?" Liam cuts in. "Yes."

"You don't seem surprised by that," David interjects slowly. "Even Robert was taken aback."

Liam rolled his eyes lightly. "You can spare me the details. Robert and I both went through the spiel with his grandfather. Robert doesn't have the affinity. I do. Belief is different when you are different too."

"His grandfather...?" You raise your brow.

Liam puts his coffee down beside him. "You must realize that though I've been adopted by them, I'm not an actual descendant of Leonard Devayan. It was clear that I was brought in to help fulfill the promise between you and Leonard. I get financial support from them, but I'm not entitled to your trust fund to them, nor can I inherit the church."

"That's kind of fucked up, considering you'll be doing all the work here," you frown.

Liam shrugs. "No need to feel sorry for me, I have zero interests in their money or inheriting the church, and Robert is annoyingly persistent that I visit them during the holidays. Besides, you can probably tell, I don't quite look like the regular priest."

"Actually," you give Liam a small smile, "Leo was rather similar to you. He liked tattoos as well. Though, just on his hands. He wasn't as adventurous."

Liam gave a small smirk but moved on. "So," he takes a breath, "What exactly are you looking for help with. Robert wasn't clear on the phone. Are you looking to turn more people and need searings for the sun?"

"No," you breathe, "I need you to help figure out how to end my curse."

Liam stares at you for a moment. The curse wasn't discussed in great length to him as not too much information was passed down because Leonard believed you wouldn't try to ask to remove it again.

Still, he eyes you before he turns and studies Natasha a bit before Liam looks at Wanda.

"You bit her, spreading your curse to her," Liam deduces.

"How do you know it's Wanda?" Natasha asks with a slight narrow of her eyes.

Liam licks his lip as he stands up, using his fingers to gesture everyone to follow up. He walks up to his bookshelf and pulls a book down like a lever, and the entire bookshelf splits and makes way into a secret room.

Inside the room, there are rows of tables filled with papers and things you would find in a science lab: beakers, stirring rods, mortars and pestles, and chemicals.

"In some ways, alchemy is a derivative from a witch's spells or magic. What do you think alchemy is?" Liam asks.

"Leonard always said it was a power given to them by God to be able to protect themselves against the supernatural," you recall.

"Kind of, not really," Liam says as he walks over to grab a black chalk and begins to draw circles and symbols on the ground around Wanda, motioning her to stay in place. "There are different types and levels of alchemy. Alchemy, one on hand, can also be a science. It's changing one thing to something else. Anyone could practice it. Even Robert could to a degree."

Liam finishes drawing and drops the chalk to the side as he dusts off his hands.

"But to have the gift for alchemy," Liam lifts his thumb to his lips, "Means your DNA has an affinity to the sun, the moon, the wind, or the earth."

Liam bites down on his thumb hard enough to break the skin, blood rushing out, the smell assaulting both you and David instantly before Liam presses his thumb against the line of the circle.

The air changes.

A white, hot electric buzz fills the air as the alchemy circle flashes a bright blue for a second before returning to normal. The chalk drawing underneath Wanda disappears.

"What...happened?" Wanda asks slowly as she looks at her hands and the rest of her body, but she doesn't find anything amiss.

Liam gestures at Wanda to check where her sternum is. Pulling the front of her shirt at the neck, she peers down.

"What..." Wanda mumbles.

Both you and Natasha looked at each other before moving forward to check, Wanda holding her shirt open for the two of you. Wanda's bra was blocking part of the view, but her sternum now visibly bore the curse's inscription. The black words on her skin and then dark-colored veins prominently spreading outwards from her sternum.

"What did you do to her?!" You whip your head towards Liam, snarling at him.

He holds his hand up to calm you down.

"Nothing dangerous, relax," he cocks his brow at you. "As I said, Alchemy is about changing one thing to something else. I used the chalk as a medium to bring the curse to the front of Wanda's body so it can be visibly seen."

When you realize Wanda's not in any imminent danger, you pull your snarl back, and the red from your eyes fade away.

"This will help you tell when the curse is spreading. Wanda's veins will darken and spread as her cells deteriorate. Don't EVER let the dark veins spread past her chest. If you do, the curse is meant to collapse her sternum and pierce her heart. She will die." Liam warns sternly, eyebrows furrowed together, and lips in a straight line.

"How do you know?" David asks with a slight frown.

"As I said," Liam looked at David, "Alchemy is a derivative from witch's spell or magic. The inscriptions are alchemy transmutation spells. If an alchemist has an affinity for alchemy, they can tell when it's been used on someone." Liam turns to you. "That's how I know it was Wanda that you bit."

You nod curtly. You think about how the veins were just barely protruding from her sternum, so Wanda would be relatively safe for a while since you just fed on her during the plane ride to Texas.

"What did you mean that your DNA has an affinity to the sun, moon, wind, or the earth?" Natasha asks.

You turn your attention back to Wanda, trying to inspect if she was indeed okay. It wasn't that you didn't trust Liam, but you couldn't help but worry.

All of this was your fault.

The fact that Wanda was cursed with potentially no way of getting out of this.

And the complicated mess you know would only hurt everyone in the end, so you needed to get this shit sorted out.

"It means," Liam interrupted your thoughts. "I have an extra DNA strand."

You blink.

"Honestly, I don't blame people in the past, believing alchemy was a gift or power given by God," Liam shrugs. "In a way, I guess they're not wrong. Alchemy's affinity comes from people who have an extra DNA strand from one of the natural elements. The sun, the moon, the wind, the earth." He uses his fingers to count as he speaks. "Having an extra DNA strand is a...mutation. The deformity being able to perform alchemy as a power. As you can guess, depending on what extra DNA strand you have, that's the alchemy you have an affinity to."

Natasha nods thoughtfully as she holds her chin. "I see. So the sun would be fire, the moon would be water, the wind would be air, and the earth is well...earth."

"Exactly," Liam nods.

"Leonard must've been fire," you say pensively to yourself, reminiscing.

"What are you?" David asks Liam, licking his lips.

Liam tilts his head to the side.

"I have four extra DNA strands."

��⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Something has been putting you on edge since you've arrived in Vermont.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asks softly, catching you look out the window for maybe the millionth time now.

"Yeah, sorry," you breathe, uncrossing your arms. "It's just...something feels off," you tell her quietly, as to not attract the attention from others.

Liam and Wanda were currently looking over his books and scrolls to see if he could find anything that would help Wanda while David helped them.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asks as she takes a seat on the couch's armrest, pulling you closer, so you were between her legs. She rubs your arms up and down, hoping to comfort you.

"It's just..." you start to say before you turn sharply at the window again. Natasha's brows furrow, but she has no time to ask as you barrel into her while David tackles both Liam and Wanda to the ground.

The glass of the window shatters as a body breaks through. It happens so fast, you hardly even have time to move, but you do.

You smell burning flesh because there's still sun out, though it's setting. A snarl rips through the air as the intruder turns and leaps toward Wanda. David gets up, forcing his feet to push off the ground as he launches towards the vampire. The two of them collide into a blurring mess.

Natasha starts to get up, but you hold her in place.

"What--"

"Don't," you warn her. "If that thing collides into you, your body will tear apart, enhanced, or not."

You get up, running over to David as he's pinned to the ground as you rip off the vampire.

Even with his fleshed burned, he was strong.

Liam scrambles to get up as he grabs another chalk nearby and starts drawing another transmutation circle on the ground as fast as he can.

You're trying with David to get the upper hand on this vampire, one locking him into place while the other tries to rip his head off.

"Wanda," Liam calls, and she turns to him with worry in her eyes as she stands in the corner, unsure of what to do. "I'm creating a prison for him. You need to use your powers to place him in here and keep him down."

"Okay," Wanda says determinedly.

You look at David, who nods in sync with you. You both let go of the vampire at once, and Wanda lifts her hands, casting her powers over the vampire to lock it in place.

He tries to thrash in place, but it's impossible to move with Wanda's vice-like grip on him. She wobbly moves him until he's in the middle of Liam's transmutation circle.

Liam bites in the same place of his thumb earlier, breaking the wound once more, letting a single drop of blood fall in.

The ground starts to shake slightly as the floor where the vampire lies crumbles, giving way. The outline of the circle lights up, and suddenly, vine-like branches with spikes shoot out of the ground. It wraps around the intruding vampire, the spikes piercing his body. He screams out in pain, trying to move, but is unable to due to Liam.

The light fades, leaving the vampire bleeding out as he's trapped in his spot.

"What...was that?" Wanda asked, everyone clearly knowing that he was after her.

You help Natasha off from the ground, checking her for injuries. You find nothing other than a tiny cut on her cheek from a stray glass shard.

"I'm okay," Natasha assures you, more frustrated with herself for being unable to do anything.

You frown, wiping off some of the blood with your glove before you turn to the offender on the ground.

"That was so cool," David breathes as he looks at Liam, who is giving him a tiny smile.

With the vampire immobile, you could finally take a good look.

He was somewhat sickly pale. His eyes were red, a dark red, meaning he wasn't hungry when he lunged for Wanda.

But the thing that stood out the most to you what the prominent veins underneath his eyes.

And you've seen that before.

"No," you frown in denial.

"Where did you come from?" You demand, but the vampire just smirks.

You want to leap in to strangle the thing, but Liam holds your arm to hold you back.

"Anything that steps into that circle will be roped in just like him," Liam warns.

The vampire continues to bleed out as it laughs.

"Wait--" David says, "he's actually dying. Look!"

Everyone looks to where David is pointing at, and you clench your jaw. As a vampire, the only thing that could kill you was wood from the Methuselah tree. Yet, this vampire was disintegrating, turning to dust at his toes.

The vampire looks at you, and you feel a chill down your spine.

"How cute," he tells you, voice raspy as he's disappearing. "Looks like you have everything you've wanted."

You furrow your brows at him.

"Do I know you?" You say, but the vampire doesn't even seem conscious of the fact that he's speaking.

"My love," he says, looking at you, and while you revolt, there's something familiar in the way he says it.

Like you've heard it before.

"It seems you've learned how to want more," he smiles cruelly. "But if it's not more for the right things...then I'll show you what it's like to lose everything you have."

Your heart drops.

"Wait!" You shout, trying to somehow get him to stay, but before you could say anything else, the vampire completely crumbles to dust, leaving nothing behind.

All of you stare at the empty space. The shackles that were holding the vampire in place disappears along with the transmutation circle.

"No," you start to say quietly. "No, no, no, no--"

"Hey!" David grabs you, trying to keep you calm.

"This can't be," you say slowly.

"What? What's wrong?" David shakes you by the shoulder a little.

You look at him.

"That was her."

Silence.

"What?" David says, not understanding.

You look at the ground where the vampire used to be.

"I don't know how...but that was her," you say.

"That was Tatyana."

PART XIII

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #marvel reader insert #natasha x wanda x you #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #black widow x reader #mm: my fics #series: between the lines

649 notes · View notes

uwuwriting · 4 years ago

Text

My s/o is scarier than yours w/ Dabi, Hawks and Aizawa

Request: Can you do a dabi , hawks and a aizawa reacting to there blind badass s/o going all out on someone who kidnapped Them - @chronosdemon2

Tik tok memes have been stuck in my head all day and I’m very close to saying that “Kill your parents Tracey” to someone unironically….. the thing is they'll DO IT. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: cursing and descriptions of violence, some quirk use, violent quirk use, TW blood

Dabi

-I swear he got caught on purpose .

-He was strong enough to roast anyone that came close to him and he could literally beat them to a pulp.

-But noooo he had been whining about wanting to see you saving his ass after he heard Toga talk about how hot you were when you were angry and how your overly aggressive quirk use, made your eyes ?pop?

-The appeal of murdering someone and finding it hot is beyond you so you just let it slide.

-But McCrispy had other plans.

-He had been acting reckless and made stupid mistakes while out on missions, constantly getting hurt and forcing you to half carry him back to HQ.

-You contemplated leaving him in that rusty, disgusting warehouse since you were sure they were gonna ship him back the moment he opened his mouth to speak.

-He was THAT annoying.

-But alas your heart got the better of you and after two days of letting him be held captive you decided to go down there yourself and pick up your oversized child.

-Dabi on the other hand was starting to get pissed.

-He expected you to come get him the moment you heard he was being held captive, I mean you said you loved him right? You must be worried sick.

-The other idiots wouldn’t bother for a week or so before remotely lifting a finger in an effort to get him back so you would be coming alone.

-What the fuck was taking you so long???

-He could burn this whole place down; he could easily do that but they had given him quite the beating already and some of the staples on his skin came loose making the pain radiating through his body ten times worse.

-He hated admitting that he was truly in pain.

-In this moment though, as blood trickled from his chest and arms he couldn’t deny that his body was way too sore to even move an inch.

-Another thing he hated was the fact that he needed you right now.

-Even though he had done this whole thing because he wanted to see you losing your control a little he never expected to be hurt like this, become so desperate for someone to actually save him.

-He stopped hoping for a savior when he was a child so why is this spark of hope suddenly back?

-Resting his head on the cold wall behind him he tried to get some rest, hopefully he would feel better after he got some sleep.

-As you made your way silently through the corridors of the warehouse you noticed a pile of bloody staples in a far corner, seeing red as you immediately knew where these staples came from or better from who.

-You had no intention of giving Dabi the satisfaction of seeing you fight the dudes that caught him.

-He basically forced you to come pick him up like some drunk idiot who forgot he didn’t have a ride home at 3 am in the morning.

-But now that they touched him?

-Sure he was a dick but he was your dick of a boyfriend and no one laid a hand on him.

-Screams echoed through the halls waking Dabi up from his little exhaustion induced nap, mind hazy from the way his head was spinning.

-With wobbly legs he got up as the screams grew closer and by the time he was at the door it was flinged off its hinges, hitting one of the lackeys that tried getting up.

-Even through the immense pain he was in this fucker smirked.

-There you were, features etched with pure fury, blood splats all over your clothes as he could feel the energy of your quirk radiating through the metallic air.

- “You fucking dumbass.”

- “It’s nice to see you too doll.”

-You hauled him to the safehouse, not uttering a single word on the way back letting him wallow in silence.

-You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him after you saw how banged up he was.

-Cleaning his skin so it wouldn’t get infected, you got some spare staples to piece him back together *literally*.

-He knew he messed up big time by the way you wouldn’t meet his gaze so he swallowed his pride and forced himself to give a single apology.

- “Sorry.”

- Sighing you kissed his nose, giving him a stern look while wrapping his chest up with a bandage.

- “Just don’t pull anything like that again.”

-You ain't never hearing the s word again.

Hawks/Keigo Takami

-He swears he had everything under control.

-Completely disregarding the fact that he was tied to a chair with all of his feathers gone leaving his wings looking like a newborn chicken.

-Yeah completely under control.

-Doesn’t even know how he ended up here.

-One minute he is on patrol with his favorite person in the world and the next he wakes up in a room with no windows, tied to a very uncomfortable chair.

-Doesn’t even remember if he used his wings at all!

-He is trying to wiggle free when the chair tips and he falls face first on the dirty ass cement floor.

-His knees were scrapped and his nose was smushed, a frustrated groan leaving his lips as he maneuvered himself to lay on his side, brows furrowing as he continued to stare at the grey wall opposite of him.

-The ropes that tied his hands were tight leaving no room for his hands to either wiggle free or untie the knots all together.

-He had to come up with a new plan.

-So what did he do? He started singing.

-No no you aren’t reading this wrong.

-From the macarena to WAP, he knew all the lyrics, his voice bouncing off the four walls of his room.

-His throat was getting hoarse and he was running out of songs when he heard the screams.

-At first they weren’t coherent, just a jumble of words and shouts as quirks were activated, the building shaking a little bit by all the attacks.

-The noise got closer, more voices joined the screaming fest and poor guy was frantically now trying to get his hands or wings or anything really free from the ropes to at least defend himself to whatever is coming his way.

- “WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!”

- “LADY WHY ARE YOU SO MAD I-”

- *slap*

-Oh he recognized that voice.

-That sweet melodic voice that was now cursing the hell out of the guard outside his door like a construction worker on a Monday.

-The door rattled as something rammed into it, the hinges barely staying in place as it was attacked again and again and again until it came off, falling just a few inches away from his face.

-You walked in, eyes immediately locking with his as groans and pained moans could be heard coming from behind you.

-Your uniform had a few bloodstains on it and he could see your chest rising and falling rapidly but as his eyes scanned your figure, everything seemed fine; no injuries, no bruises just a few wrinkles on your shirt.

-His little chicken wings flapped as he beamed at you, a happy coo leaving his lips the moment you kneeled down behind him to untie the knots, giving him a kiss on the cheek *even though you were kinda pissed and did it while mumbling something about him being a stupid idiot with the brain of a penguin*.

-You didn’t bother informing anyone that you got him back, just shooting your sidekick a text that you are going home.

-Anger was radiating from your whole body and Keigo could feel it coming in intense waves.

-He didn’t say a word the whole ride home *cause he was gonna get thrown…..close to the truth*

-Once inside your apartment, you helped him with his uniform and tended to the few scratches and bruises that littered his torso and limbs, resting your forehead on his shoulder once you were done, a tired sigh escaping your lips.

- “I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

- “I’m not mad, not at you at least.”

-Wrapping his arms around you he swiftly switched spots, asking for permission silently to help with your bruises.

- “Thank you for coming dove.”

Aizawa Shota

-He could hear you pounding down the streets after them.

-He felt so hopeless right now, body gone limp from some quirk that he didn’t manage to block, being carried like a sack through the streets that he should be protecting while his s/o was spewing profanities and very malicious threats at the people who held him.

-Really it was one of the most embarrassing moments in his whole hero career.

-Worse than that one time he got caught in his own capture tool when he first laid his eyes on you one cold Friday night in the middle of winter.

-As his head bobbed along with his kidnapper’s footsteps he caught small glimpses of your form, anger etched on every single crevice of your face, eyes hard as they stayed glued to the person that held him, your quirk letting out small thrums of energy that gave away your anger.

-You could barely keep it at bay right now.

-You couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to your husband.

-He literally got snatched in front of your eyes.

-You had no time to react as he was hit by that bastard’s quirk and you saw his body fall limp.

-At the mere thought of the attempted kidnapping your quirk let out a stronger thrum sending some trash cans crashing to the ground from their spots on the side of the alleyway.

-Your lungs burned and your thighs were beginning to hurt like hell but you weren’t about to let them get away.

-Gripping the railing of a low balcony, you hauled yourself up, quickly making your way to the roof and continuing your persecution from above.

-One by one you began taking the idiots out, the higher ground giving you a more open look on them and allowing you to use your quirk safely.

-Soon enough the only one left was the one who was holding your husband who also happened to run into a dead end, whimpers leaving his lips as he saw your figure on the building’s roof.

-By the time your feet touched the pavement, the villain was begging you to let him go that he and his crew won’t pull something like this again.

-In one swift motion he was knocked unconscious falling next to your husband who was beginning to gain the ability to move again.

-With a groan you helped him to his feet, searching for any further injuries before cupping his cheek and giving him a kiss, engulfing him in a hug right after.

- “I thought I would lose you.”

-He hugged you close, burying his face in your hair as siren’s started echoing off the walls of the alley.

- “I’m here, I’m alright.”

-He felt your body slightly shake whether that was caused by the shock and the worry you just went through or the overuse of your quirk, he didn’t know.

-What he did know though was that you deserved to be pampered even more than usual tonight.

-Giving you another kiss he gently pushed you off him, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the “crime scene”, taking the familiar road home.

-That night he holds you a little tighter than usual.

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @wolfkid22 @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura @belladonna-coven @angel6786 @meena-in-a-nutshell

151 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

Of Gorgons And Gardens

Fandom(s) : The Mandalorian and Prospect [2018]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader/Ezra

Rating: Holy shit uh. Explicit.

AN: That's right. I've done it. It's time for the sex pollen. This is a standalone that's not involved with either of my previous tales related to these fine boys, so we have a Death Watch-raised Mando that takes the Creed incredibly seriously and an Ezra that's well armed. Also I apologize for the constant viewpoint switches. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @hardcorewwetrash @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @oloreaa @theocatkov @jackierey09 @zombiexbody @crookedmoonsaultpunk @pedrosbigdorkenergy @absurdthirst @culturalrebel

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For obligatory dubious consent due to sex pollen, as well as threesome activities, breeding kink and gratuitous bodily fluids. Stay safe!]

The quarry was named Ezra. Not that their name mattered, the chain code was freshly generated. The strangest part was that there had been no image attached to the puck.

Din had tipped his helmet to the side, narrowing his eyes and tapping the bounty puck curiously. "Somethin' wrong with this?"

Karga shook his head. "No, he's just too slick for us to have any holorecords on him. Somebody from Bakhroma wants him alive."

Undocumented quarry was exceptionally rare, and not usually something that one requested a Mandalorian for. It indicated green prey, a first-time offender. "Bakhroma, huh? Pretty far out." He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a reason why Karga had offered him this one specifically.

"Guy apparently walked off with a majority of someone's aurelac pull. Typical floater squabble, but one of them ponied up the mining points for credits and asked for a certified, card-carryin' Mando." Karga had leaned back in the booth. "How's the kid?"

Din had just grunted noncommittally in reply, gloved fingers scooping the puck off the table. "I have to get back to the Crest."

…

"The target has been on Bakhroma relatively recently. Not sure if he was in the Green or not, but either way he'll probably be a walking biohazard." Mando muttered, turning his head towards you. "So you're staying put."

"Until something happens to you and I have to pull you out of the fire again." You retorted with a smirk.

"Hey, that was one time." You knew he was narrowing his eyes, though you weren't quite sure how you knew. Something about the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right clued you in.

"You were full of nexu quills."

"One. Time." The Mandalorian growled. "I even said thank you."

"You sure did," You replied, laughing. "Right before you passed out!"

He palmed over the side of your head roughly. "Brat." His grumble was fond, softening the edge of the insult. "Promise me you'll stay on the Crest, Senaar, otherwise I'll ask Omera to take you and the kid for an extended sleepover."

"Fine, I promise." You relented, huffing in annoyance.

He tinkered with his charts for a moment, then tilted his head again. "Where did you go earlier? I got done with Karga hours ago. Couldn't find you."

You stiffened, abruptly absorbed in checking the fuel levels. "Oh you know. Around." You said breezily.

"Well in the future, when you feel like going around, at least let me know so I don't think you've been abducted." Mando grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

"Aw, you're cute when you care!" You cooed, making him scoff and return to his control panel.

…

In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he was more pissed off about. The fact that this Ezra character had led him on a wild fucking chase over half of a suspiciously verdant moon, or the fact that his brain had apparently decided to shift into overdrive regarding you. He couldn't get you off…

Get you off his mind, that is. Stars, he was so confused.

He felt like he had been walking in circles for hours, the only noise the steady beep of the tracker. He was too hot. Thirsty. His armor was chafing like it never had before; it was less like an extension of his body and more like a too-tight skin he needed to shed. Din finally bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"You look like shit," drawled an unfamiliar voice while a set of knuckles rapped on the back of his helmet. Djarin jerked upright and immediately staggered, fumbling to grip a tree trunk for support. His vision swam uncertainly, and he blinked several times in an effort to clear it.

The man in front of him was clad in a utilitarian suit that bore an unfamiliar logo, maybe a mining corporation. No duraplast or durasteel visible, no unnecessary frills, old-fashioned rubber gaskets to seal where glove met sleeve. Din's gaze traveled upwards, past the man's chest to his large domed helmet. He kept his motions deliberate. He had been caught off-guard by this man, but he wouldn't--

What?!

"I'll assume you're encroaching upon my solitude to haul my undesirable personage back into civilized spaces?" The man inquired after Din had taken several long seconds to try and understand what he was seeing. "For monetary compensation, if I had to hazard a guess. There are few lures that tempt a man so far out into the uncharted."

Why does he have my face? Sure, the scars were different. Different facial hair, different hairstyle, and a wild little tuft of blond sprang from amidst the dark locks at his hairline. But it was him. Same brown eyes, same nose, same mouth curving into an infuriatingly benign smirk. Djarin was struck with the sudden urge to punch him, his belly writhing.

"I take it the dust has you firm in its grip. A real pity, that. I'd love to sympathize, but regrettably I am at an advanced state of the same condition." The quarry gestured at his right arm, where a bloodstain blooming on the fabric of his suit indicated a loss of the integrity of said suit. "I'm Ezra, though I'm certain you're already well aware. And you?"

"Irrelevant." Din grated out, clumsy fingers fumbling to get his binders off his belt.

"A man of action, excellent! I shall acquiesce, but only because being removed from this Centaurian mass is infinitely better than being confined to it." Ezra replied with a sage nod, extending his wrists. "Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

"Be quiet." The Mandalorian grunted, his mind still reeling. How does he have my face? Then, a new, far more troubling thought occurred to him.

If he turned Ezra in, people would inadvertently know what he looked like. They wouldn't know, but they would know. What would that mean for him? For his dedication to the Creed? Did things like that count against him? Had something like this ever happened before?

"Tell me you, at the bare minimum, have functional transport?" Ezra asked after Din had relieved him of his blaster, sounding hopeful. It was so strange hearing his own voice with such an odd, imprecise cadence to it. The Mandalorian had worked for years to improve his Basic so that anyone and everyone would be able to understand him through the coarse modulator, though he still ended up sounding hitchy or curt most of the time.

"How else would I have gotten here?" Din snapped, gesturing the other man forward with the encouragement of his own weapon.

At least now he knew how to get back to the Crest, thank the Maker for his helmet and the tracking protocols he had. Now, observing his previous path of forward motion, he realized with a jolt how much it wound back and forth. He had been walking in circles.

Since when did he lose his sense of direction? Even in unknown territory, he usually had a damn good idea of which end was up. That concerned him.

And on top of everything else, Ezra wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Be quiet." Din muttered for what seemed like the thousandth time. How long had they been walking? Probably his own fault. With how much his head was spinning, he didn't dare deviate from the winding trail he had left. Even if a straight path would have been miles quicker.

Ezra continued to drone, "a toilsome marathon of carnage, I assure-"

"I said, be fucking quiet."

The target huffed out a breath, but obliged Djarin's terse demand for the moment. Din's head was pounding, his already short fuse shrinking with every word out of the talkative man's mouth. Was this the Maker's hysterically ironic way of compensating for how little a solitary Mandalorian would speak? Making a doppelganger that was ceaselessly chatty?

Din talked a lot more these days, between you and the kid. Maker, you. His head swam again and a low, guilty heat throbbed in his belly. You talking to him, the way your mouth moved around your words-

No. No, stop, he told himself sternly, two fingers sliding idly between the gasket and gorget at his throat just so he could breathe a little easier. This planet's air felt thick, like breathing through tar.

"I would not indulge that craving, were I you." Ezra spoke up, the man obviously watching him claw at his neck. "The less exposure you have, the better."

Din wanted to snap at him because honestly how many times do I have to say shut the fuck up-

But then he stopped. Since when did he even do things like breach the seal of his own fucking helmet on an unfamiliar planet?! He flinched, tearing his hand away and hating the low, wry chuckle that issued from the quarry. The other man mused, "It's already too late for me, you know. I imagine I'll have an hour, perhaps two."

"What the hell are you talking about now."

"The dust, my armored associate. It permeates. Sludges the mental processes." Ezra shrugged with only one shoulder. "Among other things."

"How do you know so much about it?" Din gritted his teeth against the buzzing pain in his stomach. "Seems pretty stupid of you to hide out here." Especially if you know the flora is deadly.

"There is naught to do on a freighter slingback aside from read." Ezra's eyes narrowed. "And I could hardly pick and choose which moon my pod decided to give out on, you monosyllabic knuckle-dragger."

"Watch your mouth before I break it." Din snarled.

"Lo and behold, he comprehends! I assumed all you knew how to say was a stagnant variation on the theme of be fucking quiet." Ezra retorted with enraging cheer.

Din's gloves creaked with the tension of his fists and he barely kept from slamming them into his temples. They were almost to the Crest. Almost. Once they got there, he would throw this mouthy nerf herder into the carbonite and…

And what? And turn him over? And inadvertently compromise his whole identity, possibly destroy decades of loyally obeying the Creed?

All the deprivation, the loneliness, the weakness of his own heart...

"Be fucking quiet." The Mandalorian muttered, knowing full well that the other man hadn't said anything. Be fucking quiet. Be fucking quiet quiet quiet just fucking be quiet--

Din ground the heels of his palms against the curve of his helmet at his forehead, praying for some kind of relief.

Carbonite, he reminded himself.

…

Ezra grudgingly held his tongue, which even he had to admit was a rarity. Unlike the other floaters that had approached him before and met their swift demise, this particular bounty hunter was heavily kitted. The gleaming plate he sported didn't seem to hinder his motion in the slightest.

Interesting.

Ezra knew when he had been outplayed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't banking on the other man having a functional ship even before he decided to go peacefully.

The hunter (mentally dubbed Steerforth, he rudely had not introduced himself) obviously had no idea about the pollen, for all his outward preparedness. Clearly Serpentia was not as well known as Ezra had wished.

Regrettable.

He could hope that the bounty hunter hadn't been exposed, he mused. After all, the man was wearing that positively arresting helmet, and his suit seemed of a sturdy (if unfamiliar) weave. Here was an individual that Ezra would have to tread carefully around, if he wished to escape with his life.

His faith waned a bit as he recalled watching the man 'track' him, winding back and forth through the trees like a drunken mule until Ezra had taken pity on him and turned himself in.

The hunter was terse in his speech, likely weary from the chase. Ezra could sympathize, he was weary from running. It had almost been a relief when that last hunter had attacked him and forced him to crash the pod on this moon. Though his relief had quickly turned to dismay when Ezra had done a full turn outside his pod and realized just what was making all the pollen in the air.

Serpentia, Serpent's Tongue. He had never encountered the plant in the proverbial flesh, but once upon a time he had been accidentally doused with the extract when a holding tank had burst while he was on a job site.

His skin crawled as he remembered the torment that followed during his solitary confinement. He had been nigh-certain he would not recover, clawing free of the haze that had gripped him with the barest vestiges of his mental faculties.

This moon's Serpentia population seemed infinitely kinder than the concentrate he had encountered, if only for its soft, creeping approach. It lapped at the base of his brain, dulled the edge of his panic until he was nearly comfortable with the ache that licked hot in his groin.

But thank Kevva for this bounty hunter lumbering through the brush! With a little luck, Ezra would be able to persuade him to accept a few pearls of aurelac in lieu of dragging him back to face that greatly-exaggerated justice.

...

According to the limited information from the Crest's scans, the air on this moon was perfectly safe to breathe.

And if what Mando had said was right, he probably would need the ship to himself for a little while to decontaminate. So you had posted up beside the ramp once he had departed, occasionally wiping the sweat off your brow. The atmosphere was humid and you watched as breezes too delicate for you to even feel nudged the thick pollen in the air this way and that.

The moon was liberally coated with lush vegetation; just finding a place to safely land the Razor Crest had been a Herculean effort. You wondered vaguely if there was a lake or spring nearby that you would be able to cool off in. The ship's fresher was functional, of course, but its water had been sitting in the holding tank for a few cycles now and it smelled rusty.

The pollen covered everything, orange-red substance sticking to your already-damp skin. You grimaced, wondering if maybe you should have put on your suit. But no, the atmosphere was safe. The scans had said so, and you already spent so much of your time in your thick suit…

The sunshine felt wonderful after all the hyperspace travel, like a warm embrace from a friend. You caught yourself wondering what Mando's hug might feel like. Probably uncomfortable, what with all the beskar. You scoffed at your thoughts. You really needed to stop thinking about him like that, he was technically your boss even if he called you his partner. So what if he had passed out on top of you? That had been an infection thing.

It wasn't as if he had stroked your cheek before he dropped, his voice breaking when he called you Senaar...

So what if you had solicited not one, but two Mandalorians during your last stop on Nevarro?

It wasn't as if he noticed anything that you did, aside from when it had inconvenienced him. It wasn't as if you couldn't handle your little infatuation with him, even if it did result in you seeking out Mandos that would give you attention.

You propped your chin up on your hand, your eyes half-focusing on the dust floating in the air. It was nice to just relax for once, though there was a little guilty sensation in your stomach. Because Mando was out there working, while you...were lounging around, soaking up the sunlight.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, but you finally got up with a groan and a stretch that felt heavenly. You would investigate the surrounding area, you decided, maybe you could rustle up something fresh. If you couldn't be active on the hunt for the quarry, you could at least restock the larders.

After what only felt like a few steps, you quickly stumbled across thick vines that bore an unfamiliar, violet-hued fruit. The fruit was the size of your fist, and the skin had slight give to it. Light-colored flowers dotted the vine here and there, their tiny stamens crested with heavy crowns of thick pollen. Clearly you had located one of the many sources of the dust that choked the air.

You picked one of the fruits and propped it up on a flat rock, using your trusty field knife to slice it open. It had orange pulp inside it, and a small hollow in the middle filled with pinkish fluid. The whole fruit reminded you of a sunset. Dimly, you thought that you probably shouldn't be touching this fruit with your bare skin, on the off chance that it might be caustic or toxic. But it looked delicious.

Surely just a little taste wouldn't hurt?

The pinkish fluid was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and sticky. It dribbled down your chin when you tipped the fruit to slurp it up. You laughed at yourself, tugging your tunic to scrub at your face.

Mando will love these.

You weren't sure where the thought came from, but obviously it was true. The idea of Mando being alone, slipping off his helmet to eat...the juice from the fruit glistening on his mouth…

Your breathing had quickened. You carefully harvested more of the round fruit, tucking the ripe produce into the makeshift cradle of your tunic. Once you decided you had enough, you turned on your heel and went to make your way back to the Crest.

...

No.

No no no no no-

Din stared at the partially-ajar ramp on the Crest and he wanted to yell.

"Oh dear." Ezra murmured faintly. "What a predicament." He had been getting quieter and quieter the closer they drew to the ship, so hearing him talk again sent a jolt down Din's spine. "You left your egress open? How careless of you."

"I didn't." Din snarled, wrapping his fingers around the binders on Ezra's wrists. You. The throbbing in his stomach lurched.

Ezra's eyes widened and he abruptly planted his feet. Din hadn't realized just how off-kilter he was, normally something like a shift in weight wouldn't be enough to make him stagger. But he almost toppled, barely getting his balance back in time. "Is there someone else on that ship?" Ezra asked sharply.

"Of course." Din didn't even think to lie. "Partner."

"Would they have wandered? Exposed themselves?" The prospector-thief-quarry continued to quiz him and Din resented it just a little.

"Be quiet," He grunted, tapping at his gauntlet to open the ramp, "and get in the fucking hold."

Ezra abruptly drew himself up to his full height. "I do not believe you actually want me to do that." He intoned with difficulty, his teeth gritted. "Putting myself, yourself and the potential of one more infected person into an enclosed space is a very…" His words faltered. "Oh."

Din whirled, visor traveling up the ramp into the dim hold. And just barely visible at the edge of the ramp, a small pile of what looked like fruit--was that your leg?! He lunged forward, his blaster ready.

"I would not advise you to approach them!" Ezra barked.

"Fuck you!" Din snapped, striding up the ramp to kneel alongside your body. He crushed one of the fruits beneath his knee, lurid pink juice erupting to soak into his suit. The color was high in your cheeks, your body blotchy with flush. Pollen encrusted your neck and shoulders, drifted through your hair; something pink and shiny coated your lips like a strange gloss.

Din caught himself leaning in and jerked back at the urgency in Ezra's voice when the prospector called, "Do they breathe, man?"

"Be quiet!" Djarin roared. Why hadn't he checked that first? What was wrong with him? He shoved his vambrace against your mouth, his chest clenching in relief when your breath fogged the metal. Stars.

"I'm afraid this complicates things quite significantly." Ezra said loudly, fidgeting at the base of the ramp. "I was unaware you had a partner of the...other biological persuasion. Had it just been you and I, two masculine-presenting bipeds, things would have been miles simpler."

"What the hell are you saying now?" Din was getting tired of this shit, tired of listening to the other man talk.

"This plant is...shall we say, heteronormative." Ezra drawled, waving his bound hands in the air to illustrate the cloying pollen. Din cocked his head in confusion. "You know, masculine and feminine? Male and female? Different. Hetero."

Djarin scoffed derisively. "My people don't care about that shit."

"A noble practice to be certain, very forward-thinking."

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian replied.

Ezra soldiered on, "Unfortunately, the plant that infests this planet does indeed differentiate. Fruit for the female, pollen for the male." He added hurriedly, "in the biological sense, of course! I will not make any assumptions about your partner. The fruit is a...a catalyst. Are you familiar with the old-Earth religious writings, the ones that mention the Garden? Or perhaps the Greek pantheon may have been more your style?" When Djarin shook his head, Ezra sighed. "The genus name in Basic is slippin' my mind. But this particular iteration is known as Serpent's Tongue, Serpentia. It is Medusine in nature and it inspires feelings of…" Ezra paused, licking his lips nervously. "Heat."

"Heat." Din repeated blankly, knowing that he must be missing something.

Ezra ducked his head, breaking eye contact. "As in, being in heat." The man clarified after a moment.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm-"

"Excuse me?" Din snarled, running his fingers through the juices that coated his knee. It was thick, sticky like syrup, why was it warm--He bolted to his feet and stalked back down the ramp. Ezra took a step back, and then another, the quarry obviously wary of him. Good. The satisfied feeling took some of the edge off his frustrated panic. "So what the hell is wrong with my partner?" Din grated out.

"Er, to couch it in layman's terms…" Ezra hesitated, clearing his throat. "They are aroused."

Aroused. Aroused. Aroused. "Sexually?" Din hated the way the word came out, all breathy like he was a youngling that had just learned about the wonders of copulation.

Ezra nodded, grimacing. "From the sound of your tone, I would hazard a guess that the two of you have not been intimate."

"Why would we have been?" Din retorted bluntly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, seeming as if he was avoiding looking at you. Good. Mine. Din had no idea where the hell that thought came from. "Oh of course, I was foolish to assume so blatantly." The prospector muttered. "That does complicate your own matters further, however. Were you previously sexually intertwined, this would have been much more simple." He suddenly doubled over at the waist, a loud grunt forced from his mouth and a low exclamation of, "fuck, fuck-"

The curse sent a hot flicker down Din's spine and it took him a second to realize that you had made a noise in reply. You sounded dazed, scared. He whirled on the ramp and knelt again, taking your hand. "Senaar, you coming around?" Your eyes looked...wrong, blinking open slowly; your pupils were blown like you'd been spiced.

You stared up at him for several long seconds before your mouth opened. "Wanted to make lunch." You managed to say. "I don't feel good."

"Well, you don't look so great either." Din said gruffly.

"Bastard." You groaned at him, trying to sit up. "Maker, I feel so hot, I...oh! Oh no, you smushed one." You appeared to have noticed the remains of the sticky fruit currently seeping into his knee. "I wanted you to try it. Tastes...tastes...it's so sweet Mando, s'like candy." You saying his name (even if it wasn't his actual name, shit) was like a lightning bolt to his groin. You dragged your hand over his knee, gathering up the remnants of the fruit and then sliding your fingers into your mouth.

You brought him food. His lungs felt too full and not full enough. Stars, the idea of you feeding him that, smearing it all over his mouth with those pretty little fingers-

No, the helmet. The helmet. He couldn't take off the helmet. The Creed.

He jerked his head up, looking to Ezra. The other man was still doubled over, holding his midsection as best as he could with his hands bound.

A dark, uncharacteristically evil thought wound its way into Din's mind, sweet and smokey like a good ne'tra gal. "Get in the ship." He grunted. Ezra glanced up and Din was a little startled by the level of emotion he displayed. He wasn't used to seeing expressions play out on his own face. The other man seemed wildly uncomfortable and Din found that grounding, for whatever reason.

"I do not dare to." Ezra panted finally. "Just being this close is...immensely troubling. I am not the master of my own body at this moment, Steerforth."

"Is this the target?" You asked softly. Din nodded and he could almost feel your eyes raking over the other man. "What happened? He's hurt."

Shit, he had nearly forgotten. Ezra was still bleeding from his arm. The quarry had obviously forgotten as well, clearly dealing with a much more pressing matter.

You beckoned to the other man and Din had to rein in the knee-jerk reaction to grab his blaster as Ezra reluctantly approached. He had never been territorial about you before, what the hell was the matter with him?

Ezra halted a good five feet away from you, keeping his head down. "I am Ezra. I apologize in advance for my untoward behavior." He muttered, his voice gone so low and gravelly he actually did sound like Din. The Mandalorian's stomach pitched uncertainly. "I am not myself at this point in time."

"What happened to your arm?" Your tone was warm, concerned. Din's fists clenched. "Did Mando do that?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Your compatriot has been nothing if not a complete gentleman." Ezra replied wryly. "I sustained this injury during a previous floater's quarrel."

…

You hummed and you saw Mando stiffen up out of the corner of your eye. What was wrong with him? One second he had been leaning over you, all worry and hand holding. The next, he was barking at the quarry.

And the quarry was hurt. Ezra, Ezra, his slow drawl making your head swim and your chest tingle. Never mind Mando, what was wrong with you? You felt so strange, like you were hyper-fixated.

Maker, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that fruit. "I'm sorry." You apologized to Mando, your lower lip beginning to quiver. "I just wanted to give-"

"Be quiet." He ordered, his voice startlingly gentle. A gloved thumb pressed to your lower lip and you stared up at him, opening your mouth automatically even though you knew he was just wiping the juice away. You were startled when he slid his thumb into your mouth, but you obligingly cleaned the juice from the leather with your tongue. Shouldn't this be strange? But Mando just did it, like it was normal. Maybe it was normal.

Your mind flew back to your sultry encounter on Nevarro, how you had occupied yourself while Mando wrapped up his business with the Guild, and warmth lanced through your stomach as you recalled greedy gloved hands grasping and caressing your bare skin-

"Steerforth, if you are to carry on in that heated demonstration I must plead for the carbonite treatment that you were so hellbent on throwing myself into earlier." Ezra sounded like he was in pain. "I have only endured this once before and it was a torment that threatened my already-tenuous sanity. Have fucking mercy man, I implore-"

"Be quiet." Mando snapped, "we have to treat your arm, right?"

"Fuck." Ezra swore again, the sound writhing through your belly. "Hurry then."

"Get in the ship. I'll turn on the filters."

"Do not leave me alone with them, I implore you!" Ezra cried, that domed helmet finally tilting enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. "I am not the master of my own body, Steerforth."

His eyes were dark, impossibly dark, and frantic as he argued with Mando. His skin seemed tanned or olive through the sun-struck dome of his suit's helmet. Short brown hair was plastered flat to his forehead with sweat, and the lower half of his face was coated in a somewhat unkempt mess of facial scruff. Too long to be five o'clock shadow, but too bedraggled to be dubbed anything else.

Roguish, you decided, wanting to laugh at yourself. He looks roguish. What a ridiculous thought to have! Not obviously dangerous like Mando, but still dangerous. Was that your heartbeat throbbing in your ears? You sighed softly, taking a step towards the other man without meaning to.

Mando's hand was suddenly on your arm. "Hold it. Treatment. We have to treat his wound." He said gruffly.

You nodded. Of course. Who knew what he had been exposed to through the breach in his suit? "I was going to help him walk?"

Mando shook his head. "You get the kit. You've got no gear on. He's contaminated." He reasoned. "Get me the kit and then seal yourself into the cockpit so we can filter the hold." You nodded again and his hand found your cheek, gloved fingers grazing your neck before he jerked back. "S...Sorry." he apologized.

"It's okay." You whispered.

…

Ezra, helmet discarded and suit stripped to the waist, flinched away from Din's touch yet again. "Stop. This is a bad wound. It'll get infected if I do this wrong." Din snapped. He rarely encountered blaster wounds that didn't self-cauterize, even though that tended to come with its own set of problems.

"I do not mean to tear free." Ezra protested. "Blood flow has increased. I am…" He paused, biting his lower lip. "Sensitive. Surely you have a handheld? One of the burners? Just burn it shut man, Kevva, I cannot even endure the graze of your fingers."

"If I give you a burner patch, it'll seal in the infection." Din reasoned, flushing the wound again. "Focus on something else."

"I cannot." Ezra said sharply. "There is only one matter my brain currently wishes to focus on, and it is not the dire straits of my wounded arm."

"Them?" Din asked, keeping his voice low.

Ezra shot him a guilty look from beneath his sweat-matted fringe of brown hair, finally nodding. "It is ludicrous, but I feel as though I can taste them." He confessed. "Gods, I wish I had never landed on this accursed moon. I wish I had never encountered the Serpentia."

"What will happen?" Din did his best to maintain his vocal level as he bandaged the other man's wound.

"Arousal. Sheer, unadulterated arousal. You ache, like the worst fever you've ever had. I've heard it is even more excruciatin' for those of the other human biological persuasion, due to their genitals being internal. Though it is Medusine in nature, so it has a...failsafe, of sorts. You are seized with the primal instinct to mate, conquer, claim. It does not stop until you have buried your...until you have sheathed yourself in an orifice." Ezra was gasping for air. Obviously just talking about it was enough to cause him distress, either that or Djarin was being rougher than he thought. "Steerforth please, I-"

"This will cause them pain?" Din asked slowly.

Ezra nodded jerkily. "I have been told it's like a sickly, stabbing heat. Fingers are not enough to…er, extinguish the flames." His cheeks flushed. "The tongue soothes, but not overlong. Internals require certain length, and...rigidity." Din didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the beskar that covered his upper thighs. "When last I encountered this damned flora, I suffered the effects alone and I felt as if I would go mad."

Tongue. Fingers. Rigidity. Din's mind reeled. "Specifics." He gritted out, his body awash with heat in his armor when Ezra made a pitiful noise.

"Kevva, have mercy on me Steerforth."

"I said. Specifics." Din fisted a glove in the other man's hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up. Ezra moved, albeit reluctantly, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing when he swallowed. "Specifics." Din repeated himself, a little softer this time.

Ezra shuddered all over. "They will seek you out. To be fucked." He said, cringing a bit as if he disliked using the word. "You must open them up with your tongue first, dissolve the Medusine barrier with saliva. That's the failsafe, you see, an individual of that biological persuasion who is suffering cannot be penetrated without tender effort. Ease into it and perhaps they will not loathe you when this madness has run its course-"

"I can't." Din interrupted.

"What?" Ezra gawked at him.

"I can't. T-Tongue. Not allowed. Forbidden." Din felt like he was drunk. "Helmet."

The other man's brow furrowed. "You can, I presume, take off other portions of your plate?"

Din shook his head, wishing that he could explain it better. "Technically yes, but it's frowned upon. Exceptions happen. And under no circumstances can I take the helmet off."

"How in the Fringe have you ever-"

"I...inspire feelings in people." That was probably the most delicate way he could have said I cater exclusively to bipeds with a predator/prey fetish. Din grimaced. "I'm large and imposing. Usually that's...enough. No need for warm up." He said awkwardly. "Armor stays on."

"What a bewildering existence!" Ezra tilted his head in disbelief. "So you have never removed…?"

Din shook his head. "Not in the presence of others. The Creed forbids it."

"Your dedication is admirable, but unfortunately it leaves your partner twisting in the wind." The quarry pointed out. "I would offer my services, but I am an unknown and-"

"Yes." Din gritted out, that dark thought slithering back through his mind.

"Yes?"

"Your services." Din took a deep breath. He didn't bargain with quarry, but this man had his face. He couldn't turn him in without jeopardizing everything he had sworn his life to. "In exchange, when this is...when they no longer require your services, I'll let you go."

Ezra's eyebrows bunched together. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Steerforth."

"I don't want them to be in pain." Din's voice grated in his throat and he watched Ezra's eyes widen in comprehension. "I don't want them to hurt."

"You...this is not just the Serpentia. You have a prior attachment to them."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't have." Djarin muttered dismissively. "Because of the Creed, I...I can't. But you can."

"You can't give them your mouth, certainly, but there are-"

"If it's what makes it possible, you have to do it!" Din interjected sharply. "I don't want them to hurt."

"I need you to comprehend what you're askin' of me!" Ezra shot back, his bound fists clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "They don't know me from Job, and you're all but demanding I violate their trust-"

"I don't want them to hurt!" Din roared, startling himself with his own furious reaction. Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by your staggering descent on the ladder. You looked unwell. Ezra skittered back a few steps, falling on his ass with a muffled swear.

"Mando?" Your voice wavered and you swayed at the ladder. Din lurched forward, tucking you into his arms as you sniffled, "I don't feel so good. I think I'm sick." You were radiating heat that he could feel even through his suit. Your tunic was soaked with sweat.

"Osi'kyr." Din cursed under his breath after he swapped to his infrared and saw just how brilliant your signature was. "Listen to me, alright Senaar?" He murmured, simultaneously loving and hating the way you nodded in a docile manner. "We know what can fix this. But it's not…" he paused, searching for the right term.

"Appropriate." Ezra supplied loudly.

"I feel awful." Your whimper made Din's stomach ache. His cock rubbed against the confines of his compression leggings.

Ignore it.

"I know you do." Din pressed his palm to your forehead. "Listen to me. We can fix this. You trust me, right?" Your nod was immediate and Din barely stifled his groan. "Ezra knows what's wrong. Ezra can help."

"He can help?" You echoed blearily, looking past Din. "Okay. He said something about the fruit before, right? I shouldn't have eaten it. M'sorry. Was it poison?"

"Poison may have been simpler to endure." Ezra muttered. "It is an aphrodisiac. Do not blame yourself. The fruit is visually appealing for a reason, otherwise the plant would not be able to propagate."

…

Aphrodisiac. Your mouth was flooded with that sweet taste at the sound of Ezra's drawling voice, the groan that followed burrowing into your blood.

You had never felt this way before. Your body ached and twisted, arousal pooling uncomfortably in your pelvis. Everything felt like it was trapped, your tunic sticking to your skin with sweat. Aphrodisiac.

"Please pay attention." Ezra sighed. "I understand this is incredibly distracting, but I have a limited window of coherence." He was trembling slightly, still avoiding your eyes. "Your partner has requested I aid you where he cannot. I will not harm you." He said with gravity. "This is a situation which bodes exceptionally poorly and I am...I am truly sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Oh, it's okay. Mando gets me into messes all the time." You brushed off his apology and Ezra choked out a bitter laugh.

"I fear you may change your tune once the pain truly starts." He remarked.

"He says it'll hurt." Mando murmured. "Like stabbing."

You knew your eyes widened with fear because Mando was quick to envelope you in his arms again. He had never been this touchy before. It was...strangely nice. The coolness of his armor felt wonderful on your skin and you moaned in relief. Mando went stiff at your noise, his gloved fingers clutching the nape of your neck. Up until this point, you had just felt some minor throbbing. Distracting, but negligible.

This was different.

...

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fists curled into his suit, knees buckling as a low, wavering cry left your lips. Din jerked at the sound. He had never heard you make that kind of noise before, not even when you had been shot--

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. Was he excited or terrified? "Easy, you're okay, you're okay," he soothed, clumsily brushing the hair back from your face. Who was he even trying to convince?!

"Make your choice expediently, Steerforth. Am I to be thrown in carbonite or put to work?" Ezra queried through gritted teeth.

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you." Din said to you, ignoring the other man for the moment. "I won't let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me for right now, alright? We can fix this."

Your grip on him tightened even further. "I don't like how this feels." You whispered.

Din closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off his own self-loathing, pressing your cheek against his breastplate. "I know, Senaar. I'll be right here with you. I just...can't give you what you'll need." He stuttered, offering on a desperate whim, "I-I can hold you, if you want." You nodded frantically into his armor.

"If you have a...a blanket. A sheet. Something for the floor, we are going to make a mess and I am uncertain if we will be able to protect your partner's modesty." Ezra muttered, his bound hands resting surreptitiously over his groin. "They may be more enthusiastic than one would anticipate."

Din patted your elbow, trying to gentle his voice. "Go get your pillow."

"O-Okay." You gulped.

Din tore into one of his many lockers once you released him, the armored man frantically digging around for his extra bedding. Ezra staggered to his feet, moving in close to Din. So that you wouldn't hear him speak, no doubt.

"There is still time for you to freeze me, Steerforth. I am not a man without morality, tattered though it may be." He murmured, and Din noticed that his weary brown eyes were surrounded by the same deep lines and cracks that Djarin's own face sported. The Mandalorian hadn't ever paid much mind to just how many expressions he still made beneath the helmet, probably because he knew no one would see them.

Din grabbed the other man's shoulder, searching those eyes. Ezra stared at his impenetrable visor, probably confused by his silence. "I need your help." Din rasped seriously. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, but he could live with the uneasy truce if it would…if it meant that he could…

Stars, this was all so damn wrong.

Ezra finally nodded. "I will do my best to assist with the...emotional aftermath. This is not your fault, or theirs. This is merely an unfortunate side effect of a hazardous occupation."

"Thank you."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, but other than that he gave no indication of his surprise. Din elbowed him to the side, unfolding the thick blanket and spreading it out carefully on the floor of the hold.

…

This was certainly an odd predicament.

Ezra could not say he had ever been in such a charged scenario, despite his checkered history. His jaw worked thoughtfully as he watched the armored man devote an obscene amount of care to smoothing the wrinkles out of his blanket.

Arousal swirled around him like the thick pollen outside, but it was tempered by the terrible memory of that singular past experience where he had rubbed himself bloody on the inside of his suit. He knew he was worse off than Steerforth. No, what had you called him? Mando.

Curious.

A Creed that prevented the devout from showing the world their face.

Curious. And familiar, somehow. Ezra spooled his mind back, trying to recall why it was familiar. He couldn't focus however, his own breathing becoming too distracting.

Mando hadn't gotten nearly as much of the pollen as him. The other man seemed unbearably, impossibly calm in the light of what was about to occur. Maybe it was an illusion afforded by that unreadable helm, or brought about by his lack of prior experience.

Ezra was wildly jealous all the same. "What is their name?" He asked softly.

Mando fixed him with a look and Kevva, that helmet was indeed imposing. "I call them Senaar. It...it means bird." He sounded reluctant, like he didn't even want to give up that much. "Names are sacred in the Creed. I couldn't give them mine so they didn't give me theirs, but I had to call them something."

"No names in the Creed, either?" Ezra asked incredulously.

The armored man shook his head. "To outsiders we are all Mando. To us, we are Mando'ade. This is the Way."

"A veritable legion of nameless, featureless warriors." Ezra muttered, mainly to himself. He rattled his restraints after a moment. "Am I to remain bound during this frotfest, Steerforth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to give you free range. Be grateful I didn't secure them behind your back instead." Mando snarked.

"I will not harm your little bird." Ezra protested.

"I know." Mando leaned in slightly, broad shoulders made even more intimidating by the blue-steel pauldrons that graced them. "I would kill you before you got the chance."

Oh, such confidence! Ezra wished he was in his right mind, he would obliterate this smug cretin--

His breath caught in his throat as you returned from your excursion. Gods, he had nearly forgotten what he was being called to do. He warred with the obscene urge that dragged his gaze to the crux of your thighs. "A divine sight." He murmured, not lying for once. This entire day had been remarkably truthful.

You actually gave him a ribald wink, and that eased his conscience slightly. Perhaps you were not the unsullied, blushing virgin he had feared you might be. Obviously you had used the time you took to grab your pillow wisely, maybe even given yourself a bit of a pep talk.

"Have you done this before?" Ezra asked, half-joking. He heard Mando audibly gulp in that damn bucket when you nodded, a pained smile curving your lips. "Not under the effects of such altering substances, I pray?"

"Nah, nothing like that." You replied, shaking your head. "It was back on Nevarro, I-"

"Nevarro?" Mando hissed. "You disappeared on me for hours. That's what you were up to?!"

You shrugged weakly. "It doesn't really matter but...there were two Mandalorians, and I wanted, um, something that seemed familiar, I guess." You admitted, your tone remarkably cool for the subject matter.

Ezra hid his grin. He was hardly immune to the allure of saucy gossip, and there was nothing quite like gossip that had no particular bearing on him. "Two?!" The armored man's voice squeaked even through the thick modulation and Ezra burst out laughing, the binders knocking his jaw when he tried to stifle his mirth.

"I meant more whether you had engaged in copulation in general, but I suppose that would have been a pertinent question as well." He mused once he got himself under control, the low buzz in his stomach blossoming into an excited thrum. "How fortunate that you would be so generous when it comes to your partners, little bird."

"What do you mean, familiar?" Mando carried on over him, obviously agitated by the fresh knowledge that his partner may or may not have some...tendencies. Ezra almost wanted to laugh again; you were nothing if not painfully transparent. Seeking out others like the armored man to have their way with you? Clearly you harbored some sort of affection, kept secret and safe by the walls that humans build around themselves.

But Serpentia had a funny way of sliding that dastardly pink slick through all defenses, leaving the body raw and exposed.

"I mean familiar." You replied, your pillow like a shield between yourself and Mando. Ezra settled back to watch the show, well aware that his smirk was probably insufferable. "I have needs, you know." You continued primly.

Mando's fists clenched on his thighs before he pointedly flattened them back out, fingers dragging over the plates. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I'm sorry." He mumbled, patting his leg.

You wavered again and nearly fell. The armored man caught you, settling you down with a cautious tenderness that fired a thrower shot of arousal directly into Ezra's gut. He had always been a weak fool for chivalry, though he was able to display precious little of it in his own life. Oh, this was the best kind of story.

...

Your face burned with embarrassment; why had you told him about your rendezvous with two other members of his Creed? It was like the words just fell out of your mouth, like your brain itself was against you.

You could still remember the way the larger one had pressed his forehead to your own and then encouraged you down his chest to his groin, the way his helmet had tipped back--

A new flood of warmth swept into your cunt and you bit down on your hand to stifle your noise at the pain that followed. Mando paused, then laid your pillow between his open legs. "Lay down on your back." He muttered, patting his leg again. "This way you can see me. I'll be right here."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize, please." Mando cut you off. "Once this is over, once everything is...over, I...listen, we'll operate as a sealed unit. This maneuver is scrubbed from the start. I never found the quarry. Nothing that we say or do here will ever be mentioned again. Understood?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He was giving you an out. Or himself, you were uncertain. You nodded slowly and his shoulders drooped a little, but whether he was relieved or disappointed…

Well, some secrets were meant to stay that way.

Ezra nodded his own agreement. "It is best to have certain protocol already in place when engaging in uncharted waters." He muttered. "Decidedly militant, but I must surmise your Creed taught you that."

"This is the Way." Mando said firmly.

"If we are operating under burner infantry orders, then I must voice my trepidation about this engagement," Ezra confessed to you. "I have endured this crisis once before and it was not a pleasant experience. I do not envy the pain I am certain you feel at this moment, but I also know that you are in a...compromised and sensitive position. I...if any advance is unwanted, I trust you will inform me. And if I do not respond, if I am too far gone, please have your associate rescind my invitation." He gestured at Mando with his bound hands.

"Wh-What are you going to do to me?" You asked, your voice high in your ears even as you let Mando maneuver you down to the blanket.

"I am going to do for you what your companion cannot, little bird." Ezra's tongue dampened his lips nervously. "And only that, if I understand the situation correctly."

"What he…" you trailed off as a thought occurred to you. Ezra hummed quietly as if to confirm and the sound reverberated through your core, making you whine and squirm restlessly. "Oh, what, stars, you mean-"

"My mouth, little bird." He had a tiny section of blond hair on the right side of his head, the tuft residing rakishly just at his hairline. You hadn't noticed until now, but the whimsical little patch seemed to soften his stern features. "You will need the saliva, regrettably. I am certain that the idea of the mouth of a lowly aurelac harvester on you is a repulsive one, but it is the only way to get the proverbial ball rolling."

"Wait, you have to eat me out?" You asked in confusion, trying to get back up. "Hang on, I should shower, I'll-" Agony raked down your spine and you spasmed, a breathy sound of pain forcing itself past your lips.

Ezra's incredulous chuckle soothed the sensation back down to a manageable level. "What an unexpected offer, little bird! I cannot recall the last time someone bathed specifically for me. You will wholly ensnare me if you continue such considerate behavior."

…

Din's body felt like it was on fire in his armor.

You had gone looking for people like him.

You had gone looking for Mandos because you wanted familiarity. The idea of you sussing out more of his brothers or sisters because you had needs-

Din wasn't sure if he would survive this particular encounter. He was gripping his cuisses so tightly that the leather of his gloves burned against his fingertips. Mandalorians weren't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the Creed could make things...more difficult than they needed to be for a variety of species.

Ezra, despite his hands being bound, was remarkably capable. The man had coached you through the pain when you had tried to move, his voice obviously helping you somehow. Djarin wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful. Maybe both.

The fact that this was causing you to suffer had him loathing how stiff his cock was in his compression leggings, even though from what he had gathered he couldn't actually help that particular reaction.

"I must beg your assistance in disrobing." Ezra was saying softly, tugging at the overly-knotted waistband of your loose pants. "Please, little bird."

"Right, yeah, of course." You mumbled and Djarin could hear the pain in your voice, could feel the twitchy little flinches as you tried to follow Ezra's directions.

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian moved his hands up until they rested on your shoulders. You exhaled a breathy little moan, nuzzling your cheek against his glove in what he had to assume was thanks.

"Better." You gasped, seeming more sure as you struggled to undo the sash at your waist.

"Well done, Steerforth." Ezra praised, causing something warm and wet to pour into Din's abdomen. The armored man's breathing stuttered, was this what Ezra had been feeling the entire time they had been walking? Stars, how had he even managed-

His cock lurched against the tight hold of his leggings, precome dampening his stomach. Without meaning to, Din's fingers tightened on your shoulders and he grunted quietly.

Your eyes shot up, locking with his visor. He knew you couldn't actually see him, but at that moment he felt exposed. "You alright?" You asked quietly, your breath hiccuping when Ezra brushed the stubble of his jaw against your naked thigh. Din ached to do that himself, Maker he wished-

"I'm fine." He choked, like he wasn't roasting alive from the double-edged heat of artificial arousal and jealousy. His left hand slid down, resting at the hollow of your throat. It soothed his ego a little to see that your eyes were still on him, despite what the quarry was about to do.

Ezra, he reminded himself. This man wasn't prey anymore, for all that he was keeping the binders on. Din at least needed that level of control. He needed the stability.

That recurrent devious thought surged forward again, dark and heady. Utilizing Ezra, he could indulge vicariously in the hazy desires he had fought for cycles. The wish to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you cried, like in the raunchy imagecasts he picked up on rare occasion. Putting his bare hands on you, stars-

Din Djarin was a man of extreme self-control. So far, he hadn't overstepped or shamed the Creed, unless you counted the time he was loaded out of his mind with bacteria-laden quills. He hadn't realized just how many of them were embedded in his back until his vision started getting blurry as he was standing over the nexu's dead body. Served him right for letting the feline get the drop on him before he put his backplate on.

You had been so worried when he returned. You were patched into his coms so you obviously heard the struggle he had dispatching the creature. Heard how ragged his breath got and how hard he had to actually fight.

Din vaguely remembered flopping down on his belly with you hovering over him, pliers in one hand and bacta shot already buried in the meat of his shoulder. Stars, it was great to have a partner sometimes. If he had come back to just the kid like that, he'd probably be dead from an infection. You didn't even make him take off his suit, you just worked around it.

You ended up removing thirty-seven quills of various lengths, most of them bearing nasty hooked barbs. The pain had hit different because of the infection, leaving Djarin trembling boneless and silent on the floor of the hold while you wriggled quills out of his back. He had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable, beskar be damned.

"It's alright. I'm glad you made it back." You had said calmly. "I'm not letting you go alone next time, though."

"Thank you, Senaar…"

Din's face flushed when he recalled how badly his voice had cracked when saying the name he called you by, less speech and more a plaintive cry. The way his glove had slipped over the skin of your cheek, and how he had longed to remove that glove...

Maker, he sullied the Creed with his inability to reconcile over lack of touch. The hunger for skin-to-skin contact that reared its ugly head every time you were out of your heavy exosuit and durasteel served as a painful reminder, one much more poignant than the simple weight of his helm, that he was a Mandalorian.

But this doppelganger loophole was a gift to be thoroughly exploited and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity.

Ezra buried his face between your legs and Din felt the way your entire body coiled up in anticipation, another trembling cry leaving your lips and your hands twisting frantically into the blanket beneath you. "Mando-!"

His name, his name, you were saying his name even with another man's mouth giving you pleasure. Djarin couldn't help the satisfied little growl that left his lips and made its way through his modulator. He heard Ezra chuckle, the other man pausing to shoot him a sly wink over the length of your body. Din nearly laughed.

"Ezra," He said instead, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Make them cry."

He stopped caring about how wrong it was.

…

You gasped at Mando's words, already inches from bursting into tears. Ezra's mouth was slowly coaxing you open, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw rubbing your thighs. Every pass of his tongue, every gentle press and suckle sought to untangle the knotted ball of heat in your belly, but you were certain you would lose your mind before you managed to disperse the agonizing feeling.

You were too full, almost too aroused to handle Ezra's mouth on your cunt but you were positive if he stopped licking at you, you would die. Heat felt like it was sloshing in your belly, there was so much of it...

Ezra placed a series of delicate kisses on your clit, each one lighter than the last. His hands, still secure in their binders, clutched your right thigh for purchase when he pulled back to gulp air. His expression was dazed, eyes managing to focus on the armored man that loomed over you after several long seconds. "Will you not indulge, Steerforth?" He sounded like he was almost begging Mando, voicing what you couldn't bring yourself to say. "They ask for you, how can you sit there so damned impassive?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you heard Mando exhale raggedly, the bounty hunter muttering, "M' not impassive. There's nothing I-"

"Touch them, for fuck's sake!" Ezra cried, pointedly rattling his cuffs. "I cannot do both. We must work together!"

The Mandalorian lurched suddenly up onto his knees, then sprawled over your body, slamming one hand down to support his weight before wrapping his fingers in the neck of Ezra's tattered thermal shirt. "You don't call the shots here, quarry." He snarled in That Voice, the one that he reserved for his bounties.

Your hands crept up to his hips, hyper aware of the sweet taste in your mouth and how good this would feel.

…

Ezra stared at the pitch-black visor inches from his nose. Felt the strength in the gloved hand that threatened to do much more than stretch his shirt.

The prospector took a mental inventory of his body at this juncture, a bit surprised and entertained to find that he was thoroughly invested in this new direction the encounter had taken. Mando was no doubt glaring at him from the safety of that impregnable helm, the other man's hackles obviously raised by the jab from the prospector.

It mattered very little at this point in time, however, as Ezra heard a zipper fly open. Mando flinched so hard Ezra felt it in his back, and the sound you made was enough to get the devil to start sweating. "Seems that you may be outnumbered, Steerforth."

"Target rich--environment-" The armored man snarled. "Senaar, y-your--mouth, fuck-"

He stuttered. He stuttered. Ezra latched onto that weakness with a filthy grin, easily twisting out of the other man's grip to duck his head back down and taste you. Mando's other hand hit the blanket as you undulated your hips up to meet Ezra's mouth. Ezra could only imagine the noises you were making around the other man's cock. He knew you were making them by the way Mando's arms quivered. And wasn't that a sight, a man in full armor rendered helpless by the power of a warm, eager mouth on his cock.

"Watch me now, Steerforth." Ezra crooned, tilting his face up to make presumed eye contact. "This is how you make them weep with pleasure." He was sure that his chin was dripping pink at this point and he knew, even without seeing the other man's face, that Mando was barely hanging on. He had to salute the armored man's dedication. A less devout individual would have given out before they made it to the floor.

The Medusine barrier that the Serpentia formed was slowly weakening under the gentle assault of his mouth, Ezra was pleased to notice. Of course, he wasn't exactly rushing, simply going at a steady pace to keep your pain to a bare minimum. You had begun to leak around the barrier, your arousal even warmer than he had expected. Ezra couldn't tell whether it was because he was under the effects of the pollen or whether it was reality that you tasted immaculate, but he reasoned that it didn't particularly matter.

He was hungry enough to cope with either happenstance.

"Little bird, fuck my face, won't you?" He requested sweetly, chuckling at your enthusiastic response. "Grind yourself to completion on my tongue, break the barrier so that your associate can sheathe himself balls deep in this delectable pussy and give you respite."

...

"Fuck." Din rasped, his eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet. The way that Ezra spoke was like fucking music, the man wrapping filthy words in flowery, incomprehensible syntax.

The Mandalorian's fingers tangled resolutely in the blanket, the armored man panting as you urged his aching dick even further down your throat. Your hands grappled with his thighs, shoving them wider and then taking two hungry handfuls of his rear to encourage him.

"Senaar-" he started to warn you off, but stopped dead when you moaned around him. Stars, he wondered how you could even breathe--

You pulled back, coughing and gasping. "You're doing so well, little bird." Ezra murmured from between your legs. Your only reply was to take Din's cock back into your mouth and oh fuck you weren't stopping-

Your hand found Djarin's in the blankets and you tugged on it, forcing him to try and figure out how to redistribute his weight so you could have the appendage. He managed it of course, he was a fucking Mandalorian after all, but there was a moment where he nearly lost his balance.

You guided his hand to your neck and Din couldn't fight back the groan he let out when he felt his cock bulging through your throat. Fuck, no one had ever been able to take this much of him into their mouth before, halfway was usually the stopping point.

Djarin grunted and tilted his head down to watch you struggle, finally wrapping a hand around his cock and easing it back out of your mouth. Strands of saliva connected the engorged head of his dick to your lips. Din sighed stupidly at the sight, fisting his dick and coating his glove with your spit. "You're good at this, Senaar." He said gruffly, knowing that it wasn't really praise, not like how Ezra said it. But words had never been his forte.

"Keep speaking to them Steerforth, they leak at every word out of your mouth." Ezra encouraged from between your legs. "That's right little bird, just a bit more…"

Din was startled, to say the least. You liked when he talked? "I…" he hesitated, then his brow furrowed. "Can't wait to fuck you, Senaar." You whimpered, your hips shuddering. "Fuck you until you don't remember your own fucking name." Din growled. "Breed you like a good Mando should, pump you full of my come just like my Creed-siblings did, right?"

You nodded against his thigh, your sweat seeping through his flight suit to meet his own liberal perspiration. He was so hot, his armor had never been this hot--

"Kevva, that's a kink I didn't anticipate." Ezra panted, pink slick smeared all over his nose and chin. "They certainly like it though, if I understand correctly."

Din could smell you, smell the sweet scent of that fruit mixed with your own arousal. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ezra's neck and he nearly headbutted him on reflex, barely reining the power back in time. Ezra seemed confused at first, the other man obviously dazed with heat and just sort of allowing Djarin to shove his face against his helmet.

…

The helm was so cool, Ezra couldn't restrain a relieved sigh when he made contact. Mando appeared to be rubbing your essence all over his helmet, utilizing Ezra's face as a paintbrush. Unorthodox, but effective.

"Oh," Ezra realized, "you've got some sort of olfactory sensors in there, don't you. You lewd creature you!" He teased breathlessly. "If you think they smell sumptuous, I regret to inform you that their taste utterly puts that to shame." Words were heavy in his mouth, the prospector having to work harder and harder to put sentences together. It wouldn't be long before his senses wholly abandoned him, he was certain. "Release me, Steerforth, I must…I must carry out my end of the bargain." He groaned, struggling free. "We are almost at their climax."

Mando was nearly vibrating with anticipation, gloved fingers clawing at Ezra's hair. "Careful," was all the armored man said hoarsely.

Ezra nodded, once again touched by the bounty hunter's surprising display of consideration for his partner. "When the barrier breaks, they will need your cock immediately, Steerforth. I will...not be coherent for much longer." He mumbled against your cunt, giving up on speech after Mando nodded.

With one last sweep of his tongue, the barrier dissolved. You sobbed out, your voice breaking as you writhed beneath your large companion and bucked your hips up against Ezra's eager mouth. Slick fairly poured out of you, leaking down your thighs and soaking the blanket beneath you.

Ezra didn't remember wriggling his bound hands beneath your rear, simply returning to his senses with your legs over his shoulders and his lungs burning for air but you tasted so good, he felt raw with hunger.

Mando's gloved hand covered nearly the entirety of his face, easing him back from his feast. Ezra watched the other man's chest heave in a daze until he suddenly remembered what he was doing. "I apologize, I...I am too far gone." He murmured in contrition, lowering your hips back to the floor.

"Ask nicely to fuck their mouth." Mando ordered, his blunt words digging into Ezra's groin. "You said it hurt you last time because you were alone. You helped them not to hurt. If they don't want to let you to fuck their mouth though, I'll…" he hesitated, "I'll figure something else out. Nobody has to hurt."

"'Something else'?" Ezra repeated, stunned. What on earth could this armored man possibly be offering? Those gloves were remarkably soft, the leather worn smooth from a lifetime of use, no doubt- "Oh."

…

The pain had eased, only to be replaced by a searing emptiness. You squirmed beneath Mando, tangentially aware that he was engaged in a discussion with Ezra. Your hand flew to your pussy, the drenched area making an embarrassingly loud noise when you thrust two fingers into yourself in an effort to quell the ache.

"Maker, please, please, Mando!" you begged, barely aware of what you were saying. The heat concentrated in your pelvis was burning you alive, desperate tears pouring down your face.

Mando stood to his full height, towering over you, just watching you quiver while you pleaded deliriously. He fairly ambled around your body, moving until he stood between your spread legs. His boot shoved your ankle, opening you even further, exposing every inch of you and the mess that covered the blanket under you. "Senaar." The low burr of modulation made you rock your hips up, whimpering and nodding when he stroked his cock like he was showing off.

Somewhere, deep in your soul, you prayed that he liked what he saw even without the strange pollen instigating.

He knelt, gloved fingers curling beneath your chin to pull your eyes up from his thick, perfect cock and the puddle of precome it was currently weeping onto your pubic mound. His touch sent flickering trails of electricity through your body, and you could barely focus on what he was asking.

"Ezra...mouth?"

You nodded rapidly, making Mando bark out what could have been a laugh. He cupped your jaw again, and then his hand stroked your hair in a way that was almost tender.

"I'll make you feel better." He promised. Ezra was a mess, he looked like you felt. The quarry simply let Mando shove him down onto his knees, his eyes half-lidded. "Undo your suit." Mando ordered and Ezra shakily attempted to obey. He was having a difficult time with his hands still in the binders so you reached out, batting his hands away impatiently to unzip the lower portion of his exosuit.

His thermal leggings were threadbare like his shirt, the waffle-weave fabric soaked through. His cock visibly twitched when you exhaled sharply. "Do not tease me, little bird, I feel as if I am on death's doorstep." The man pleaded through his teeth, "I am raw and agony gnaws at my skin; please take me in your mouth."

"I have to get your pants off." You tried to explain, fumbling with the article of clothing. The noise of despair he made had you frantically clawing at the pants, finally dragging them down low enough that his cock was freed. It slapped against his belly and he moaned, bound hands digging helplessly into your hair.

"May I please have your mouth?" He requested raggedly. "I will not take it if you do not give it freely but please, little bird."

After he had worked so hard to get you to come? You were nodding hurriedly before he finished speaking, and his deep, drawn-out groan of relief was like music to your ears when you swallowed him down.

…

You were radiating warmth, your hips twitching and shifting restlessly even as you tried to get Ezra's dick out of his suit. Din had to hand it to the other man, he did ask nicely.

But there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Mainly, your neglected cunt that was currently leaking all over the underside of his cock. Djarin took a steadying breath, and then slowly sank himself into your waiting heat.

Your cry of relief was fucking primal, a hungry, feral snarl that slithered hot and seething in his stomach under the beskar plate. Din was wholly, entirely lost, finding himself mentally shattered at the first stroke into your body. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips and then your legs fell open, like you didn't have the strength to hold them up.

Shit, he knew he should say something, he knew he should be reluctant about this, but it was like every cell of his body needed you to fucking survive.

Maybe he always had.

Din bared his teeth and growled back at you, his attention divided between watching you eagerly suck Ezra's cock and watching the way his own dick split you open. His passage was eased by the strange pink fluid that continued to ooze out of you, stars it was so hot-

Ezra's fingers tangled in your hair after a moment, the prospector cradling your head to his groin in a manner that could have almost been described as gentle.

"Is this how my Creed-siblings f-ucked you, Senaar?" Din's voice grated in his chest, the armored man barely aware of the heated words tumbling out of his mouth. "Filling you, claiming you, fucking your throat and pussy?"

"Kevva." Ezra breathed. "Your peculiar voice working in tandem with your cock appears to be the thing that turns them into a voracious harlot. I do not know if I have ever-" His sentence broke momentarily, "oh, fuck, very well little bird, take the whole of it then." He grunted, raking his fingers through your hair as you deepthroated him. "You are absolutely magnificent at that, you know." The other man praised shakily.

Your cunt fluttered around Djarin's cock and he felt your arousal soak through his suit, hot fluid sliding down to coat his balls. "Stars, did you just come?" He groaned, unable to stop the filthy noise he made when you whined around Ezra's dick and nodded as best as you could. His fingers gripped your thigh, digging into the skin as he began to rut against you. The Mandalorian threw his head back, panting, "Feel so fucking--good around me, fuck, Senaar, so good-"

…

You felt like you were falling apart again and again. The taste, the sensations, the curling knot of heat in your belly that released inch by inch. Mando's hand on your thigh and Ezra's grip on your head were the things that allowed you to hold on to your sanity, but only just.

Mando was conquering you utterly, his dick driving into you with enough force that you knew you would be aching later, but in the moment you never wanted him to stop. You had craved him, wished for him for so long, to finally have him was total bliss.

And Ezra, Ezra, his silky voice caressing your body as his bound hands carded through your hair. His cock choked you again and again and every time you had to pull back off of him for breath he praised you, talked about how good you were, how no one had ever taken him as deep as you…

You were in heaven.

Ezra abruptly retreated, his cock smearing more precome across your lips. "If you continue on in this manner I will be undone, little bird." He muttered. "Your one-sided assault, while inescapably delicious, is rendering me wholly base. You wish for me to spill my seed on your face?" His hips twitched. "Or shall I fuck my come down your throat, request that you swallow every drop?"

"Fuck it into them." Mando rasped before you could say anything in reply, a gloved hand grabbing your chin. "Fuck your load i-into that sweet little mouth of theirs. Give them what they fucking need, quarry." He demanded, and you nearly came again from how unhinged he sounded.

"Well, little bird?" Ezra asked softly, his eyes dark with want. "Shall I take my pleasure from your lewd little mouth and let your beautiful throat milk me dry?"

"Please!" You begged, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to encourage him.

Ezra sighed blissfully at the sight, lacing his fingers through your hair and encouraging you to take his cock until your nose rested against his groin. "Fuc-king gods, you are positively celestial." He groaned, "Relegating yourself to a singular partner would be doing you a disservice, little bird. I highly encourage you to weaponize your talents in whatever field you wish."

Come flooded your mouth, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, your lungs burning for air and you dimly heard Mando snarl, dropping his helm to rest on your sternum. The metal was blessedly cool even through your tunic, helping to anchor you to reality.

"Fucking touch me, please." Mando's voice shook even with the modulator, his words buzzing through your body. "Senaar please, fuck, pl-please, touch me, fucking--"

Your palms crashed into his shoulders, hips bucking upwards to meet his next thrust and you came again. Mando made a noise that you could only liken to a roar, the armored man grappling at your hips and grinding himself against your dripping cunt.

"Senaar, Senaar, Senaar--" The name he had given you punctuated every thrust, his rasping tone making your belly drop out. You weren't sure if you would ever stop coming, grasping blindly at Mando and Ezra while your cunt gripped down on Mando's cock.

…

If Ezra still had any doubts about being a blatant proxy for the armored man, that was obliterated in his post-orgasm daze.

A gloved hand slid to the back of his neck and tugged him down to your mouth. Ezra went clumsily but willingly, the prospector humming when he tasted himself and the cloying sweetness of the Serpentia on your tongue. You sobbed against his lips and Ezra soothed you with his mouth, accepting all of your hungry whimpers and whines as he stroked your hair back off your forehead.

"Little bird, little bird, you will want for nothing with this individual pummeling you so mercilessly." He breathed, relishing the soft cry that quivered against the skin of his neck. "I imagine you can feel every inch of that prodigious girth, burning like unquenchable quicksilver, threatening to breach your very womb." He moved his bound hands down, resting them on your stomach. "Steerforth, I trust you are punishin' their cervix with every thrust?" He queried, chuckling darkly when Mando just snarled in reply.

You threw your head back, hands fisted in the fabric between Mando's pauldrons and gorget. "Mando-!" You pleaded, "fuck!"

Mando's hands dug beneath the small of your back and he canted your hips upwards, sheathing his cock in the cradle of your body over and over. Ezra envied the armored man's stamina, grunting when he felt his member trying to rise again. Whether he could blame the pollen for that, he was unsure, but the lovely company certainly did nothing to dissuade his arousal. Watching this large, almost knightly figure rail into you, your face still a mess of tears from when Ezra had fucked your mouth…

Kevva, he could not recall a time where he had been so content to simply play voyeur, pressing the occasional kiss to your lips at Mando's behest. "Such tenderness, what a dichotomous sensation for you," the prospector mused, "the contrast between armor and flesh." His mouth brushed against your ear when he continued, "However, I believe you're beginning to realize that there is an untapped wellspring of man beneath all that metal, am I correct little bird?"

...

You squeezed your eyes shut and Din's hand reached up, the bounty hunter unable to keep from cradling your cheek. "I always knew." You said, your voice barely audible. "I-I always...I always-"

"Be quiet." Din grunted. "Y-You...don't have to say it." His heart slamming in his chest had nothing to do with his current exertion. You knew. Shame reached him dimly through the haze of arousal. All the times he ached to touch you, all the times he battled with himself over his desire for contact…

Your hand gripped the back of his helmet and he flinched sharply. He hadn't noticed you move and you could pull his helmet off, shit, he was so stupid for doing this! His eyes flew to yours, even though he knew you couldn't see through his visor.

After a moment of him fighting back his panic, you just shook your head. "S-Sealed unit, ri-ght?" You asked, your words hitching with his thrusts. Djarin nodded warily. Your eyes half-lidded and you knocked your forehead into his helmet, the gesture unmistakable to a Mandalorian.

A kiss.

Was his heart breaking, or just fucking giving out under the assault of this insane pollen? Was he overloaded? Was this all just some wild hallucination?

Din frantically shoved his helmet against your face, pinning your head back to the pillow. Shit, he needed to be careful, you didn't have armor. "Senaar, I--" Basic had always been so damn heavy on his tongue. Mando'a flowed, but it was secret. Sacred. Djarin hesitated and you reached up again, cradling the indents on his helmet.

"Always. Even with this." You whispered.

His brain had short-circuited. The roaring in his ears was deafening and he knew he was making some kind of ugly, wounded noise, but he couldn't actually do anything about it.

Always. Always.

His heart must have blown, he reasoned desperately. That was the only explanation for what he was feeling right now.

…

The sound that Mando made after you assured him was heartwrenching, a guttural sob that seemed like a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He clawed at the blanket beneath you, gasping for breath as he all but broke you in half, his dick ripping yet another orgasm from your hungry cunt.

You were lightheaded from his prolonged fucking, your pussy in spasm around his thick cock, but you refused to give out yet. "Did you feel me come, Mando?" You whimpered against the side of his helmet, wringing more feral noises out of him. "Is it good?"

"Fuck, incredible, s-so--" Mando gripped your thigh, hitching it up over his hip and then dragging his fingers hungrily through the pink slick that had pooled in the crease of your hip. "Never want to leave, fuck, m'sorry, I know I'm t-taking--forever-"

"Only a fool apologizes for his length in the bedroom." Ezra remarked dryly, dipping down to kiss you when you laughed. "How do you fare, little bird?"

"So good." You sighed, feeling half-drunk on your orgasm high. The knot in your belly had finally gone slack, leaving you weak and trembling beneath Mando as he chased his own completion. You hummed and Ezra rumbled back, his touch remarkably careful when he cupped your chin.

"You have done so well." Ezra murmured. "Serpentia is no simple storm to weather, yet you have endured." Mando wordlessly bumped his helmet against Ezra's temple, the metal rubbing over the blond tuft of hair the quarry sported. "You are most welcome, Steerforth." Ezra chuckled. "One is glad to be of service, but please. You threatened to fill them, didn't you?"

Mando's hips faltered in their rhythm and the armored man finally came with a shattered moan of relief. Stars, you weren't sure if you had the Serpentia to blame for the sheer volume that he came; you could feel it frothing out of you around his cock as he continued to shudder and writhe through his orgasm.

"Holy shit, Mando." You said incredulously, unable to fight back the urge to slip a hand down between your bodies. "You told me Mandalorians were rare."

"We--are." Mando panted raggedly, his cock still twitching inside you.

"If you come like this, how?" You asked, your combined fluids soaking your questing fingers. Mando just stared at you for a moment, shoulders heaving while he struggled to catch his breath.

And then he started laughing, which was...not nearly as terrifying as you had expected, honestly. "Stars, you--" He wheezed, his helm thudding gently against your forehead. "Fuck you, Senaar." You could hear him grinning, his voice still warm with laughter.

"Odd method of displaying affection. I take it your Creed is of a fraternitous bent?" Ezra commented, a quiet noise of surprise escaping him when you tugged him down for a kiss.

"Thank you." You mumbled drowsily into his mouth.

"Hardly. I ought to thank you. When last I endured the Serpent's grasp, I was incarcerated and driven to gratify myself to ribbons on the inside of my gear." Ezra informed you, his tone nonchalant. "This experience was a rare moment of hedonistic bliss in my life. Believe me when I say I shall cherish it."

He straightened up before you could say anything in reply, extending his bound wrists to Mando.

"Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

Mando ignored him for another moment, stroking your forehead tenderly. He appeared to have noticed your weariness, because he sounded softer when he spoke. "Sleep, Senaar. It's over."

…

"I'll cut you loose on Sorgan."

Ezra swiveled in the co-pilot chair, knowing that his expression must border on the befuddled. When the armored man had left you to sleep, hauled Ezra into the cockpit and secured his binders to the chair, the prospector had assumed that whatever agreement they struck previously was rendered null and void. "I would be...wholeheartedly grateful to you, Steerforth." He breathed.

"I never found you. Your pod malfunctioned and you burned alive in the atmosphere." Mando instructed him in that level, modulated voice. "Stop stealing shit and I won't have to hunt you down again."

"Those men stole from me!" Ezra retorted hotly, knocking his elbow down into the white case that hung off his hip. "I worked alone for stands and they came along right at the most opportune juncture, put a thrower to my head and robbed me! I simply reclaimed-"

Mando waved a hand, interrupting his self-righteous tirade. "You and I both know that it doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting the credits this time, but next time…" he trailed off pointedly. "Don't get caught again. If someone else from my Guild chapter picks up your bounty, Mandalorian or otherwise, they will catch you."

Mando leaned in close, his elbows resting on his knees and helmet propped up on his folded hands. Ezra felt for all the world like a specimen underneath a microscope, barely suppressing the urge to squirm nervously.

"The bounty specified that you be captured warm." The armored man said after a beat. "No promise of half-payment upon cold delivery or even proof of demise. So whoever you got into a pissing match with wants to be the one to put that last slug into your brain. You already heard my advice. For your own good, I suggest you lay low and be fucking quiet." He gestured out the cockpit viewport at the green sphere that hovered in the distance. "There's good people on that planet. Good people that I care about. If you bring hunters to their doorstep, I will find out. And then I will find you."

Kevva have mercy, this man was no joke. Ezra was having a difficult time just mustering up the breath to give him an affirmation! Was this truly the same Lancelot he had watched engage in lotus-eating debauchery with his Guinevere not two hours hence? Ezra's belly roiled uncertainly, arousal and fear a potent combination. This must be how the bounty hunter indulged himself without divesting his plate, the prospector reasoned dimly. Fear was a remarkably stimulating thing. "Of course." He finally answered, his voice a little reedy. "Your mercy is...unexpectedly generous, but no less appreciated for its spontaneity."

Mando grunted, seeming satisfied with his response. The armored man returned to the control panel after a moment, flipping a few switches. The entire ship appeared to be miles above what Ezra was used to. Even the Testin had a dog-eared manual that hung from a chain by the central dash, and the craft was such a rattling nightmare that she needed three bodies just to keep her straight. But this man, this...Mandalorian, he operated the whole blasted vessel with a fluid ease.

His next words were so quiet Ezra nearly missed them. "Thank you."

"Pardon?" Ezra queried blankly.

Mando heaved a sigh that made his pauldrons visibly dip. "I said, thank you." He growled awkwardly. "I don't know what...I don't know if I would have hurt them because of--because of how I am."

"It will do no good to ruminate on such dour subjects." Ezra hesitated, then continued, "but your Creed...would you have broken it for them, had you known about the requirements of the Medusine barrier?"

"I…" Mando tightened his hold on the directionals, those gloves creaking with his tension. "I'm not sure." He admitted, lapsing into silence afterwards.

"Your ship is marvelously responsive." Ezra murmured by way of changing the subject. "It reminds me of a diminutive Screamer-class that I endured a few stands on, oh, nearly fifteen cycles ago-"

"Be quiet."

…

Din watched Ezra until he vanished between the large trunks of Sorgan's conifers, the Mandalorian then dropping back into the pilot's seat with a groan. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped he hadn't just unleashed some mass-murdering psychopath on the unsuspecting populace.

Djarin tilted his helmet back against the headrest of the seat, aimlessly staring up at the fuselage.

What the hell was he going to say when you woke up?

Din's heart sank. He knew that he couldn't believe anything that had come out of your mouth while you had been under the effects of that fruit. Serpent's Tongue. He chewed his lower lip meditatively.

He could lie.

He fucking cringed at the thought, then shook his head at himself. You would be embarrassed at best, but at worst…

Shit, he didn't want to lose you, even if you didn't feel the same way about him. And then there was the kid to worry about. No, a lie would be better.

You had sought out other Mandos. His stomach lurched as he recalled that little fact. Fuck, fuck, was it hope that beat so insistently in his throat?

A sealed unit, he had said.

He just wouldn't bring it up. He was the one who had insisted that this whole maneuver was struck from the proverbial records in the first place, right? He just wouldn't mention it. Easy enough. If you said something, that was fine, but otherwise…

Din nodded firmly. This is the Way.

Part Two

881 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 4 years ago

Text

Honey extra - The Sex Playlist + a little scene

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I posted part five on the same day acosf was released, so if you didn’t see it, go read it, cause it’s.. long and it took me years to finish and I saw it didn’t get the same attention the previous parts did, and yeah

fic masterlist

this takes place somewhere between part five and six

Elide was one of the few lucky girls whose period was never too bothersome. The pain was always very bearable and only lasted a few hours, and most of the time, it wasn't even a real pain, just a slight pressure in the lower abdomen. She could go about her day without having to stop every few minutes because of a cramp - unlike Aelin, who died every month as if someone was stabbing her in the guts.

She also didn't have a heavy flow, which she would always thank the gods for, if they existed. She couldn't understand how her friends could put up with such misfortune.

Not that they could do otherwise, of course, but she was always in awe when they told her about their period-catastrophes. She knew that if it were her turn to suffer like that every time, she would rip her uterus out of her belly.

And at that moment, lying in a fetal position on Lorcan's bed, she wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to keep from doing it herself before the cramping stopped. Because for some strange reason, her body had decided to turn against her this month.

The last two weeks had gone by in the blink of an eye, she and Lorcan had fucked on every surface in the house and between work and classes and studying, Elide had gotten very little sleep. Considering also that every time she lay down, her boyfriend would slip in behind her and she couldn't say no to herself, to that pleasure so exhaustive and ecstatic, it made her forget that her body needed rest.

It had taken Lorcan to remind her that they couldn't go on like this.

So when she'd found a bloodstain in her underwear the previous night, just before going to bed after her shift at the diner, she hadn't worried so much and had thought that they'd finally take a few days off and maybe her body would calm down.

Elide wasn't a fan of period sex and the few times she'd done it she'd been so grossed out that she'd risked barfing in the middle of it. It simply wasn't for her.

What she hadn't expected though, had been cramps so strong they had pulled her from sleep in the middle of the night. Elide had gotten up and gone to the bathroom because she'd started moving around too much and didn't want to wake up the boy sleeping blissfully next to her. She had started pacing the living room, trying to figure out what the fuck she was in such pain for.

When it felt like someone had stuck both hands in her uterus and was digging their nails into her ovaries, Elide had knelt on the floor by the couch, leaning forward with her fists pressed against her stomach.

Lorcan had found her in that position around half past four.

To say he'd been scared out of his wits would be an understatement.

He'd thrown himself to the floor beside her almost immediately, all traces of weariness gone the second he'd heard her whimper in pain and seen that Elide was biting her lower lip so hard it was drawing blood.

When they had established that it was just her cycle, Lorcan had taken her back to his bed and now they were both lying between the soft blankets she had given him.

They had both been puzzled by this new symptom. After all, Lorcan had never seen her suffer from her period in all the years they had lived together and neither of them had expected it to be any different this time.

Elide had had to joke that it was the fault of his huge cock that had literally stabbed her in the uterus, and Lorcan had apologised in earnest, looking at her with wide eyes and pulling away a little, as if he really felt guilty. She had burst out laughing and then pulled him to her again, taking one of his arms and putting it around her body so that his big hand covered her belly.

He'd started moving his fingers over her lower abdomen, applying pressure from time to time when she seemed to tense up due to a cramp. It helped, somehow, to have him there to massage her. To hold her to his chest as they cuddled.

Now, Elide kept her eyes closed, his head resting on top of hers as they both dozed. Or at least she thought so, because Lorcan spoke, his rough, low voice too close to her ear, "How do you feel?"

She sighed, pulling her knees up slightly. His legs immediately followed her, as if they couldn't bear to be away from her body. She smiled, "A little better." then yawned, "I guess it's the fact that I was already tired as it is, what with university and all."

Lorcan hummed behing her, "I see," then he moved, pulling away only briefly, "maybe we should take it slower, with everything I mean."

Elide nodded slowly. She turned her head towards him, still with her eyes closed, but pursed her lips forward, silently inviting him to kiss her. He chuckled, but a second later their mouths clashed in a simple peck on the lips.

The music playing from the speakers suddenly changed from the sweet melody of a love song to something quite different.

"Cause I eat up for a while, let me through. The shake, the screaming aloud, I'ma fool. In my face you shake, leaking everywhere."

Elide's eyes went wide, "Lorcan!" she let go a surprised chuckle, "What is this?" she turned to him fully and could finally see the satisfied smirk on his face.

"It's a playlist I made yesterday," he then lowered his voice an octave, looking at her lips, "For when we can take the time to think about music instead of jumping right into it," he murmured.

Elide swallowed, nodding slowly, continuing to listen to the song.

Definitely very different from what he normally provided her with.

"I like it," she continued, then draped her arms underneath his, resting her head against his chest as he pulled her close to him and lay on his back, making her lie completely on top of him, "our sex playlist." she smiled, playing with the ends of his hair.

Lorcan hummed again and Elide felt it throughout her whole body when he said, "I called it 'elide'."

She had to force herself to calm the hot spirits that that new information had triggered in her body, but she was glad to know that he wouldn't be able to use that playlist with other people, considering it bore her name.

"I like it even more now," she confessed under her breath.

His arms tightened around her back and then his hands began to rub her lower back, where he knew she was feeling the most pain. Elide fell silent, enjoying his warm hands on her skin, and only had time to thank him before sleep beckoned her again.

The playlists

01.02

1. The Fixer – Brent Morgan

2. Why iii Love The Moon – PHONY PPL

3. Couch Potato – Jakubi

4. Anyway – Noah Kahan

5. comethru – Jeremy Zucker

6. Why Not Me – Forrest.

7. Loving – Surfaces

8. always, i’ll care – Jeremy Zucker

9. Like Strangers Do – AJ Mitchell

10. Yellow Lights – Harry Hudson

11. Glue Myself Shut – Noah Kahan

12. Colour Me – Juke Ross

13. Lovesong (The Way) – Charlie Burg

14. Lucky Love – Michael Seyer

15. Freak In Me – Mild Orange

elide

1. Skin – Rihanna

2. Do It For Me – Rosefield

3. Body Party – Ciara

4. When We – Tank

5. Rockstar – Rihanna

6. F***in Wit Me – Tank

7. On Top – Trey Songz

8. Acquainted – The Weeknd

9. Freaky – Gemaine

10. Make You Feel – Alina Baraz

11. First Fuck - 6LACK & Jhené Aiko

12. Young God - Halsey

13. How Many Times – DJ Khaled

14. Fuck You All The Time – Jeremih

18.02

1. I Don't Know Me Like You Do – Low Hum

2. I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You – Charlie Burg

3. Why Can't I Have You – Gloria Laing

4. If I Go, I'm Goin – Gregory Alan Isakov

5. Let Me In – Skinny Living

6. Reason To Hate You – Rhys Lewis

7. Be Your Man – Rhys Lewis

8. Yours – Jake Scott

9. Loved Us More – Munn

tog tag list (if you wanna be removed or added just send an ask or dm me)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp

#honey #elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan roommates au #tog #throne of glass #tog fic

75 notes · View notes

pearl-blue-musings · 4 years ago

Text

Unforgettable pt. 4

HI FAM

WOWOWOW SORRY THAT THIS UPDATE IS SO LATE I HAD A HARD TIME BRINGING THIS OUT IN THE WAY I WANTED.

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x fem!reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

Warnings: language, a hint of angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night you returned from your secret adventure was filled with confusing emotions. Why did talking to that covered stranger, whom you now know as Dabi, come so naturally? Why was it so easy, despite the fact that he’s a villain? And why, God why did touching pinkies send a jolt through your body leaving you unable to forget what that felt like.

You wish you could forget how that felt but you can’t. Not because of your quirk, but because it made you feel safe, made you feel differently than with your interactions with anyone else. Including Hawks.

But then a new feeling was emerging. It wasn’t just a sense of freedom; it was a form of vindication. You did something without the hero commission or Hawks knowing and the emotion was indescribable. Maybe this was your way out, your means of escaping the overprotective clutches of the hero commission. Who cares that they adopted and took you in off the street? The pros and cons of this are relatively even so the thought of escape finally feels within reach. Not just for you, but for Keigo as well.

You and Dabi had continued to meet up once, sometimes twice a week at the same spot on the same bench. You two never disclosed too much information about your work lives but gave enough information that was allowable. Dabi would talk of successful missions and failed trysts, always going off about an unmentionable master plan and a newbie that was bothering him. You would talk of stressors, your eventual dreams, and sometimes you’d sprinkle in bits of your past.

It was weird how Dabi was so interested in knowing more about your childhood friends and your relationship with them. You didn’t mind though, because finally you were able to talk about these things with someone who didn’t experience it or try to put a cap or limit on your feelings. You truly began to confide in him.

So much so, that 5 weeks into your meetings you had allowed him to walk you home. He would drop you off a couple of blocks away, just in case anyone was nearby. Over the weeks, little bouts of affection between the two of you began to grow. Lengthened hugs, prolonged handshakes, lingering touches… Sometimes it reminded you of the closeness you have with Hawks, but something about these flittering touches seemed more intimate, more special.

You tried your best to calm the rush of emotions you would feel around him, chalking it up to be the feeling of harboring a secret and not getting caught. Yeah, that’s it. Tonight was one of your usual trips to the neighborhood grocery store that was sanctioned by the commission. They told you going out at night was better because less distractions and less of a chance to run into trouble that could lead to a potential overload. Bullshit, just what the hell were they really scared of?

As you’re walking back, noting the coolness in the air as you tug your scarf closer to you lips, you walk pass your secret meeting point. A hidden smirk comes to your face as you think of the number of times Dabi has met and left you at that spot.

That’s why it was weird for you to see someone in that exact spot right now.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you secure your bags closer to yourself. The overhead light is faded which makes it harder to see who is actually there. Your gut tells you to run and leave the person be, but a whisper changes your mind.

“(Y/n)…”

You gasp, almost dropping your bags as you approach the shadow.

“Dabi?”

Sneaking him into your apartment had your adrenaline pumping. You were bringing someone who wasn’t a hero into your home! A home secured by the hero commission and watched like a hawk. You trod along carefully, being aware of the blood coming from his stomach and legs and trying not to have any fall on the carpet. If anyone saw the bloodstains leading up to your door, they’d know something was up. Even now, his face is covered almost as if he was planning on coming to see you. Sure you two had talked about it, but even you knew how risky that was.

You hear him hiss beside you as you close the door to your apartment. You pull him closer to you as you take off his and your shoes. Once that’s done, you hurry him to the bathroom and sit him on the closed toilet.

“Okay, let me get a good look at you.”

Once you take him in, it takes all you have to not cry out. Despite the knowing charred skin, there’s blood coming from the middle of his shirt and some from his leg. Your eyes reach his face and you see there’s traces of blood as well. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what,” you mutter. You try you best to avoid his gaze but that doesn’t matter because his eyes are everywhere except yours.

“With pity. Like you’re sad for me.”

You reach for the first aid kit from your medicine cabinet and grab a towel. “But I am sad Dabi. Careful this may sting a bit.”

“That’ll be nothing. I’m used to pain.”

He notices you flinch when he says his truth. Since most of his body is burned and not compatible with his quirk, a little sting from alcohol won’t hurt him. He also takes note of the care you give him, not even wincing upon seeing his leg. You keep working up his body and you shyly ask him to take off his shirt so she can attend to the wound there.

His rough and warm calloused hand stops you. “Don’t.”

“Dabi, I have to in order to treat the wound. Please, just let me.”

His grip loosens and he mumbles out, “just don’t regret seeing me.”

You sigh deeply and start to remove his bloody and tattered shirt. Once it’s over his black locks, you can’t help the tiny squeak that leaves your lips. Scarred, charred, and stapled skin greets you. It’s gruesome, it’s painful, but it’s mostly saddening. To know that he deals with this every day hurts you more than you thought it would.

You begin to dab at the wound to help it heal and stop bleeding. It’s not lost on you that despite his scars, his physique is immaculate. Toned skin meets burned skin and the contrast in shades surprises you. You don’t feel your breath quicken as you finish working his stomach wound.

Your eyes finally meet his and you push yourself up to your knees. “Let me see your face.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not gonna let you drag and spill blood all over my apartment. Let. Me. See.”

“Little mouse, be careful. You don’t want to get on my bad side right now. I’ve had a fucking night.”

“So let me help you! Please.”

His sapphire eyes darken at your pleading words and then soften. It was bound to happen eventually, maybe he’ll have to kill her now, regardless of how he feels or thinks he feels. His shoulders droop in defeat and you take that as an invitation. You come closer to him, slowly taking off the glasses obscuring his eyes. You’re immediately taken back by how beautiful his eyes are. They seem familiar, but everything feels familiar with him so you let it go.

Next, your hands graze his ear which you feel is slightly burned and covered in piercings. Slowly you unhook the strap around the back of his ear and do the same to his other ear. Dabi is now completely exposed to you. The scars and staples match the rest of his body, but they don’t take away from how handsome he actually is. Your hand naturally goes to his cheek to feel it underneath your fingertips. It’s rough but velvety, a comforting and very him touch.

You feel his hand grab the one on his cheek and you fear he wants to pull it away. However, he does the opposite and pushes it closer to his face, almost like he’s melting into your touch. He looks calm, relieved even. His eyes had shut naturally at your touch, nostalgia running rampant as the feel of your hand on his is something he thought he’d never feel again. He sighs lightly, not realizing how long he had been holding his breath.

This act is so intimate, but the two of you barely even recognize it as such. You raise your other hand with the towel to wipe away the blood spots that taint his unmarred skin. He let’s you continue to clean him off as the sound of the light buzzing and the bathroom fan become the soundtrack for the evening. Once you finish wiping his face, he grabs your other hand which makes you drop the blood clad towel. Dabi pulls you in closer, now your lips merely inches apart. His eyes drop to your lips as they part ever so slightly and then back up to your eyes.

“Dabi I-“

He silences you by firmly placing his lips on yours. The kiss starts out curiously slow, as you two take time to take in the feel of each others lips. Unlike him, he waits for you to feel comfortable before pressing deeper into your lips. His tongue invades your mouth and you welcome it, causing Dabi to moan slightly at the feeling. You pull back, perturbed by the noise and your eyes go wide.

“I’m sorry, did I do something weird?”

He chuckles and brings your forehead to his. “Doll,” he pauses to find his words but comes up empty, “shut up.” He pulls you in again, this time with conviction. Your confidence soars as you start to roam your hands all over his body. You can tell he wants you to stop touching his scars but you keep on anyways, giving them tender touches. How long had it been since someone, more like you, had touched him in such a loving and caring manner?

Even when he was first getting burned from his quirk, you had been there when the both of you were younger. You had offered healing solutions and open arms when it seemed no one had cared. So part of him hoped that you would recognize a tid bit of the feelings he wants you to feel, to experience within this kiss. He wants to press on more into the kiss but he knows better. He always does.

So he pulls away.

“Why,” you pant, “why did you stop?”

Dabi bites at his burned lip with lust blown eyes. “Wouldn’t this be better not in a bathroom?” You become flustered at that and remove yourself from the man in front of you. He stands up with you and you want to aid him because of his wounds. “It doesn’t hurt as much as you think it might.” You two walk out of the bathroom into the partially lit hallway. He stops your progress by pressing you into the wall. He growls out, “c’mere.”

The wall behind you supported you as he stole your breath. You never thought you could feel this way with someone again. Not to say that you haven’t, but relationships never progressed this far. However, as you briefly break for air, you think about the only other person who has ever given your heart butterflies without you realizing it.

“Hey kid, I had some time to sneak away and-“

Your heart rate shot up at the unexpected intruder. Anxiety began to swell as you took in the scene before you. Hawks was here in your apartment watching you make out with a villain he may or may not know. “Ke- ah Hawks! What, uh, are you doing here?” You barely register Dabi glaring at your longtime friend as your thoughts race a mile a minute.

Hawks is completely unsure of what the fuck he’s seeing. Why was he pressed up against you? Why was he here? How did you actually meet this burnt guy? “(Y/n), what’s going on? Do you, do you know him?”

You understand what he meant but you couldn’t meet his intense stare. Your avoidance answered his own question and he relaxes his shoulders. He had to keep his cool and pretend that he is completely unaware that a grade A villain was making out with his best friend. His stomach dropped at that realization, which confused him greatly.

He continued to stare at Dabi who had the most sinister grin. The temptation to hurt him was immense but he held back. His golden eyes didn’t miss your blown out eyes and pouty lips. You really wanted Dabi? What was wrong with him? He knows he’s been gone for over a month but…

There’s that feeling in his stomach again.

Dabi breaks the silence in the cramped hallway. “You gonna turn me in hero? Gonna arrest me for messing with someone who’s precious to the hero commission?”

Keigo whips out his sword-like wings and aims it for his neck, recreating a scene they’ve done before. “Watch yourself. What are you doing here?”

“Clearly I was invited. Why are you here?”

Hawks steps closer. “I’ll be asking the questions,” he seethes. “Just how the hell do you know (Y/n)?”

“Hawks, please.”

“I met her in that park you had been scoping out for weeks for her.” He oozes confidence in a sly way as he presses the tip of the wing into his own neck. “If you take me here, they’re gonna know you two broke the rules. And from what she’s told me she’s on a tight leash.

“Wouldn’t want her to be put in a tighter cage now would we?”

Your eyes finally meet Keigo’s and realization settles in. He lowers his weapon and his gaze on yours softens. Shit, how did things get so fucked in the weirdest way? “Dove, did you really meet him there? And you know that he’s-“

“A villain,” you finish for him. “Yes I know. I didn’t plan on talking to anyone, but he was anonymous to me at the time. It felt nice having someone to talk to.” You subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself and sink into yourself. Keigo cautiously approaches you and places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

He sighs and then speaks, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to contact you and I wanted to check in on you. Guess I didn’t need to.” He steps away from you and you quickly felt colder.

“Hawks…”

“I’ll always be second won’t I?” He had meant to keep that to himself but the rhetorical question escaped his lips in a low whisper. You heard some of it and that made you heart lurch. Your heart had been going through a roller coaster the entire night.

Hawks then makes eye contact with Dabi. “Hey, can I talk to you? Alone.”

Dabi looks over to you and you nod at him and motion for the two of them to go out to your balcony. You walk back to your room and attempt to get a control on what was going on in your heart. How long had it been since you’ve had your heart torn and tugged in different directions? Ever since Dabi came in the picture and Keigo had gone undercover, your emotions had been a big jumbled mess and now it’s gotten more tangled.

The two men stand adjacent to the window, so only Hawks could potentially be seen from the outside. Hawks starts out first, “So this is who and where you’ve been running off to.”

Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Listen here bird brain, I still don’t like you or trust you. But (Y/n), she’s someone special to you isn’t she?”

“She’s my best friend since we were young,” he retorts.

“Hmm,” the ravenette ponders. “And how long have you been in love with her?”

That causes the blond to hesitate slightly at his response. Anger had dissipated from his being with just one question. “And how long have you had feelings for her huh?”

“You’re avoiding the question, hero. And what’s it to you? So what if I have feelings for her?”

Hawks chuckles darkly, “Shiggy isn’t gonna like that you know.” He stops to finally collect his own thoughts and how to handle this brand new information. “Look, I won’t tell anyone. Hero or villain, this stays between us.” The urge to cry hits him hard and he swallows it down as he always does whenever it comes to matters of his heart, especially regarding you. “And you better not hurt her.”

You had reentered the room to catch the last sentence Keigo says before meeting your eyes. He can tell that you heard what he had just said and slaps on a camera ready smile. You already know that those are fake, but you can’t imagine why he would fake a smile to you until you see his beautiful golden irises that shine like the sun.

They’re dull, somber, lacking the luster they usually have. And that makes your stomach do backflips. He flies out your window and into the cool night. Dabi comes up behind you and wraps his hands around your waist.

“Is he always this protective of you?”

You turn to face him and you glance up into his captivating eyes. This is a comfortable and welcoming place to be. But if Keigo made your stomach do backflips. Dabi’s made yours do frontflips.

And you weren’t sure which feeling was better or worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @cupcake-rogue @shinsouskitten @luluwiie @kacchaneatsass @abonshit @kiribaku-queen

#my writing #i did the thing #unforgettable #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader x hawks #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #keigo takami #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader

89 notes · View notes

abnormallynice · 4 years ago

Text

Confession By Proxy

Read it on AO3

Collab with the wonderful @kirbychan234 to make a prequel fic/comic for the First Date Comic I made a whiiile ago because everyone was curious why exactly Neku was so beaten up. I did the pretty pictures and they did the amazing words and stuff! ;D

Go give KirbyChan some love on tumblr and AO3 for writing the fic portion and making me squee with their writing >:3

Neku sighs as he drops his bag to the side, the door to his apartment sliding shut on its own. It’s late, he’s tired and sore and way too lazy to worry about unpacking right now. He’ll do it tomorrow. Or maybe never. Whichever one comes first.

Instead, he goes over to his closet and starts to remove his scarf and coat. Once those are deposited on the floor as well (he’ll hang them up later, he swears), Neku reaches to close the door.

“Have fun?”

The voice makes Neku jump and fall into his still open closet. “JESUS-!” Very unmanly, and he can hear laughter behind him that makes his blood boil.

Joshua looks as smug as ever when Neku turns around to glare at him. “Close,” he replies airily. “But not quite~” And he shrugs, like he didn’t just scare the living daylights out of him.

“For fuck’s sake-” Neku groans as he sits up. “Text. Doorbell. Knocking. PICK ONE. Seriously, that’s all you’d have to do.”

Neku cuts himself off when he feels a familiar jolt of pain in his arm. He grabs it without thinking and feels a warm wetness, and when he pulls his hand away, his fingers are tinged with blood. “...Shit.”

He doesn’t even see Joshua move, but suddenly he’s there, kneeling down beside him, and with a surprisingly gentle touch on his wounded arm. Neku feels his breath catch in his throat as Joshua looks over the bloodstain with calculating eyes. “What is-?”

The gentle hand is smacked away. Joshua’s pity is neither wanted nor needed. “Nothing,” Neku says while quickly getting to his feet. “It’s nothing.”

“That doesn’t-”

Neku doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else before quickly darting off. He runs into the bathroom and locks the door. He can hear Joshua sigh exasperatedly but he hardly cares. There’s a way more pressing issue right now. He already aches all over; he does not need this.

There’s a soft knock at the door. Oh so he does know how to knock. “What are you hiding, Neku?” Joshua asks easily.

“I said nothing!” Neku yells back. “Just leave! Poof away, magic genie!”

He can practically feel Joshua rolling his eyes, but Neku ignores it. What he can’t ignore, however, is the sudden chill running down his spine. This sensation...it’s familiar, he’s definitely felt it before, almost like-

Noise?

And then the sensation is gone as quickly as it appeared. In its place stands Joshua, inside the bathroom, having come from nowhere and looking none too impressed. Neku freezes, not only from surprise, but also because Joshua can see the stitches in his arm now. “Don’t DO that! Can’t a guy have some damn privacy? Go away!”

Joshua has clearly had enough. Neku can barely blink before Josh was in his personal space once more, grabbing his face and looking him over. Neku squirms, but Josh holds strong, appraising the bruise on his jaw and the bandage on his right eyebrow.

“Mm.” Josh hums and eventually lets Neku go. “Face is fine. Although it looks like one of the stitches on your arm came loose.”

“Huh?” Neku looks down to his arm. Well. That explains the blood. “Oh. Shit. Uh, I should really go to a hospital-”

Joshua puts a finger over Neku’s mouth, smiling pleasantly like usual. “No need for that, dear~”

Neku feels himself blushing, and he hates it, because he knows Josh isn’t taking this seriously. And he’s got that tone again, like Joshua knows something he doesn’t. Then again, what else is new? “Shut up,” he grumps. “I don’t need you revealing another improbable mystery that is Joshua Kiryu. Leave me alone.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Joshua doesn’t listen and instead gently takes Neku’s arm in his hands. “Now now, let’s take a look. I’ll be but a minute, and I’ll even do it free of charge.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No lies this time~” Neku resists the urge to groan. This time, he says. Ugh. “Won’t you tell me what happened though? I didn’t expect you to come home all beaten up.”

He really doesn’t want to. But Neku gets the feeling Josh won’t let it go until he does. So…

The room is quiet when Neku finishes, the only sound is the small rustling of Joshua rebandaging Neku’s arm. They moved into Neku’s living room while he explained what happened, Neku sitting on the couch and Joshua sitting on the nearby coffee table. It’s hard to tell what Josh is thinking; nevermind that Neku can barely see his face from where he’s sitting. It still annoys him, because more than likely, he’s smirking that smug smirk of his.

“The fine line between bravery and suicide,” Joshura starts, and yep, that smirk is there. Neku knew it, and it annoys him even more. “You sure know how to tightrope across it, don’t you, Neku?” His tone betrays sweetness, laced with sarcasm instead. It makes Neku grit his teeth. “What would you have done?” He snaps, and then immediately regrets his question. Knowing Joshua, he’d probably take a video or something.

Besides, no matter what Joshua, or anyone for that matter, thought, Neku doesn’t regret his decision. He doesn’t want to imagine what kind of injuries a six-year-old girl would get with an impact like that. “Ugh, nevermind. It’s just a scrape anyway, it’s not a big deal.”

Joshua raises a brow at him. “Oh? “Just a scrape”?” He doesn’t look impressed, and Neku’s eye twitches at his tone. “One that needed twelve stitches?” Okay so maybe it’s a little more than that, but whatever. “Be grateful your little falling act only bumped it instead of tore it open even more. This’ll last much longer since, well, I bound it this time~”

Neku rolls his eyes. “My savior. Yay.”

The chuckle that follows makes Neku nervous. He jolts when he feels arms lean on his legs. Joshua is very close now, staring up at him from between his knees, resting on his haunches and leaning his arms on Neku’s thighs. Neku has to fight hard not to blush. “So snappy,” he says with another laugh. “Is the child still grumpy about the argument we had before he left?”

There’s that tone again. Neku’s embarrassment dies down quickly, and he sighs. “Would you stop? I don’t have the energy.” And he’s not lying, but he also really just doesn’t want to talk about this right now, not when Josh is being such an asshole about it.

But...now that he gets a better look at Joshua, it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be an asshole...at least not right now. He actually looks curious, like he’s actually bothered by the fact that Neku could still be upset. Which is stupid, because Neku knows better than to think Josh could be bothered by anything.

Other than, you know, attempting to kiss him and then having him disappear for five years. But that’s neither here nor there.

“I...was,” Neku finally replies honestly. “...But I get the reasons why you couldn’t come along.”

Joshua’s smile is, for once, soft. He leans his cheek on his arm (which is still on Neku’s leg what the fuck Josh). “Is not having me under your constant supervision that upsetting? Would putting a leash on me satisfy?”

Neku tries to ignore that mental image and huffs. Well excuse him for being paranoid about his friend disappearing again for another five years. Really, Joshua has nobody to blame but himself for that. “Oh please,” he replies. “As if I could ever control you. I’d never want to, and even if I ever tried, I know I can’t. I just wanted…”

He trails off, looks anywhere but at Joshua. “I just...wanted my friend to come with us on a trip, that’s all.” And Neku curses his heart rate for speeding up at the word “friend”. “I don’t know why I got so upset that you couldn’t go. Of course you couldn’t have gone, I know that, but…”

Joshua cuts him off with another laugh. “Aw. I’m touched, Neku,” he says, amused.

Neku is frozen. What a time to remember what Shiki said, now, with Joshua so damn close to him. And with his heart rate betraying him even more, feeling like it’s about to explode out of his chest. Joshua is so close, Neku wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear the damn thing.

If he does, Joshua doesn’t comment on it. He’s still far too close though. “Maybe it’s better that I didn’t go, seeing how you ended up,” he says lightly. “It seems like it was far too exciting a trip for my tastes-”

“Why do you keep touching me?” Neku interrupts him, unable to look at him, and wanting to get his rapidly beating heart to calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ.

“Hm?” Joshua’s smirk turns playful. “What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll bite, dea-?”

“STOP.”

Neku’s voice even surprises himself. But thankfully it does the trick; Joshua stops his tease and is now looking more serious than Neku has ever seen him. He sits back a bit, gives Neku a little more breathing room, but doesn’t stop looking at him. Keeps silent as if waiting for Neku to continue.

He swallows, nervous, and leans his arms on his legs where Josh just was. “Just...just stop dancing around my questions. For once, just give me a straight answer.”

Joshua keeps quiet, and Neku bites his lip, staring at the floor. “Why do you keep touching me so casually? Why only me? Why…” He sighs. “Why does my heart break every time you do?”

He grabs onto Joshua’s sleeve, still refusing to make eye contact. “Why did you come back? Why did you leave? Did our friendship mean nothing to you? Am I nothing to you?” With every word, Neku feels himself start to get choked up more and more, and it shocks him. Why is this just coming out now?

Finally, Neku finds the courage to lift his head, and meets Joshua’s gaze.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Neku freezes. ‘Wh-what? Why did I say that? I meant *like*!’ His throat refuses to work anymore, and now there’s no way he can save this. He clutches Joshua’s sleeve tighter. ‘No! I fucked up! Don’t leave me…!’

“I don’t know.”

Neku lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Joshua’s voice betrays no emotion; it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. “You make me feel at ease. I think I might have some yearning, but then again, I’m probably not the best judge.”

He’s so matter-of-fact that it throws Neku for a complete loop. “Huh?”

“I’m answering your questions, Neku,” Joshua replies patiently. “As honestly as I am able.” Neku’s heart jumps in his throat when Joshua takes his hand delicately. “I came back because I wanted to understand. I left because I didn’t understand. And no, you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what you are, but “nothing” is far from it.”

Then Joshua takes Neku’s other hand, looking so damn gentle. Neku isn’t sure how he’s even breathing at this point. He’s pretty sure his heart is about to pop out of his chest at any second. “And finally, I might have still left. I don’t know. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”

It takes a moment for Neku’s voice to work again. “Uh…” he finally manages to get out. “Wow. I’m...surprised that actually worked.”

As if the past few minutes didn’t happen, that smirk was back on Joshua’s face. “Better take advantage of my honesty while you still can~” he says, and presses Neku’s hand to his cheek teasingly.

And shit, that’s actually really cute? Neku flushes horribly and sputters, a little miffed that Josh rendered him speechless far too many times in the short hour or so he’s been here. “Um - uh - what - what’s your social media password?”

Without missing a beat, Joshua replies, “dr0p_d3ad_g0rg30s.”

How the hell did he do that with his mouth??? “Did you let me win at Tin Pin Online?”

“Yes, but only the first time.”

“How old are you for real?”

Joshua laughs. “Old enough~”

And just like that, honesty hour is gone. “That’s cheating!” Neku huffs.

Even if Josh doesn’t bother with a response, that’s fine. There are other things Neku wants to say anyway. “Um so, one more question?”

“Alright.”

Neku bites the inside of his cheek, hesitates. “Do you...wanna date?”

Joshua hums, looks to be in deep thought, though his smile softens quite a bit. “Sure,” he replies. “I’ll go steady with you, Neku.”

Holy shit. Neku can’t believe this is actually happening. Internally, he’s screaming. On the outside, however, all he can do is clear his throat. “Dope.”

Okay that was lame as hell. But he can’t take it back now.

“My turn.”

Neku snaps to sudden attention. “What?”

“I have questions too,” Joshua adds. “I believe it’s my turn, if you’re done~”

Uh-oh. Neku doesn’t like that look in Joshua’s eye. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to believe that the worst has already passed. “Uh...okay, sure.”

“When are you going to stop asking dumb questions and kiss me?”

Neku’s internal screaming, which had calmed down in the last few seconds, suddenly shoots right back up even louder than before. It takes an absurd amount of self-control to not shriek like a giddy school girl asking out her crush. Instead, Neku manages to take a deep breath, cough, and finally answer. “I was getting to it, smartass.”

197 notes · View notes

kikiwhataboutthatbrendon · 4 years ago

Text

Breathing Through Allium

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830425?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_401219202

The Revived AU, The Survivors of Death. This series was inspired by @navy-leader and their comic. This AU is the 'what if all cannon dead were revived' on the Dream SMP. I do hope you all will enjoy!

The void is more quiet than usual.

Wilbur, Tommy, Schlatt, and Mexican Dream haven't had the most eventful of days. Mexican Dream is nowhere to be found, Schlatt is staring into the void, clutching a bottle to his chest, while Tommy and Wilbur are talking, still catching up, despite the fact that Tommy has been dead for a week and hasn't stopped talking.

Tommy falls quiet to take a breath after finishing the story of what happened to L’manburg, the tired look on his face makes Wilbur smirk.

“Don't get too tired,” Wilbur warns him playfully, “it’d be a shame if you couldn't tell me more, you’ve only been talking for about seven days.”

Tommy scowls at him, yet the look holds no malice. “You're so annoying.” Tommy mutters, biting back a smile.

Schlatt whirls around, an incredulous look on his face at the statement. “Says you!” He exclaims, startling both Tommy and Wilbur. “You haven't shut the fuck up since you got here!”

Tommy and Wilbur share a look then burst out into laughter, much to Schlatt’s annoyance.

The void falls nearly silent, but it’s not uncomfortable, it's nice, and it’s broken by an ear shattering thunderclap followed by the unmistakable roar of a dragon. The occupants of the void startle, souls nearly leaping from their chests. Tommy snaps towards Wilbur, takes a breath, then is swallowed by the void without so much as a scream. Wilbur dives for him, and disappears just as Tommy did. Schlatt follows, and Mexican Dream last.

The void is silent as it always should be.

Dream stares at the book between his hands, a sick smile on his lips as a thunderclap rings through the SMP, his head tilts back as he takes a deep breath, his power running like lightning through his veins. His mask is nowhere to be seen, and it makes the smugness on his face clear as day. A portal to the void rips through the obsidian ceiling of the Dream’s prison cell. Dream stares at it, and his breath hitches as a form falls through it and crashes to the floor, followed by three others. He takes a step back, genuine fear sizing his body at the sight of who else he brought back.

Tommy groans, biting back a sob at the pain throbbing through his body. Wilbur’s chest spasms and his breathing stutters, trying to inhale past the pain burning through his abdomen. Schlatt sits up with a gag as soon as his back hits the floor, scrambling to the side as his body forces everything in his stomach up. Mexican Dream scoots away from Schlatt, holding a hand to his head as the world spins. He looks around the cell, confusion clouding his expression.

Dream meets his alter ego’s gaze, and Mexican Dream immediately gets on the defensive, despite the pain in his skull and chest, ignoring the bloodstain of a crossbow bolt on his chest. “¿Dónde estamos?" He growls, which gains the attention of Wilbur.

Wilbur glances behind himself then looks to where Mexican Dream is burning a hole through Dream’s skull. Wilbur stares at him, unmoving, as he sits up. The front of Wilbur’s sweater is stained a dark red, both his sweater and trench coat are singed, there's not a part of him that isn't covered in either dirt or soot. Blood drips from the corner of his lips and his head, Wilbur doesn't seem to notice.

Dream closes the book slowly, dropping it with a stutter, “I… I meant to only revive Tommy…” He says, voice catching when Schlatt spits and turns abruptly, amber rams eyes finding his gaze. The side of his head is bleeding, his suit is also covered in dirt, and there's a faint red smudge at the edge of his mouth.

Wilbur feels rage bubble up inside him, grip going white knuckled as he balls his fits. He lunges at Dream, fist coming down on his face with a sickening crack. Dream’s head snaps backwards and he stumbles to the floor, Wilbur doesn't hesitate to pin Dream with his weight and bring his fist down on the murderer again and again and again.

Schlatt scrambles to his feet and musters all the strength he can to pull Wilbur off of Dream, Mexican Dream leaps from his place on the floor to help Schlatt. Wilbur thrashes against them, yelling profanities while Tommy stares up at them, expression disbelieving and terrified between the sight of Dream writhing in pain and Wilbur’s freshly blood stained hands.

“Let go of me!” Wilbur hollers, still pulling against Schlatt and Mexican Dream.

“You're going to fucking kill him Will!” Schlatt shouts back, yanking them further away from Dream.

“He’s no use to you dead man!” Mexican Dream says hurriedly, casting a worried glance at Schlatt, not that he could see it beneath his mask.

“He killed my little brother!” Wilbur roars, seething at the man he’d beaten bloody.

Dream doesn't even move, the yelling and heat of the prison cell fading as he blacks out, body going limp.

Tommy swallows hard, his entire body aching, his fingers tangling in the bandages around his arms that are coming unraveled, revealing marred skin, scars, cuts, and bruises showing beneetheeth the blood stained cloth. Blood is dripping from his nose and head, getting into his eyes. Tommy whimpers as he forces himself to his knees, Wilbur’s voice loud in his ears. “Wilbur…” Tommy calls, casting a pleading look to the man who has yet to stop yelling.

Wilbur stops in the middle of a sentence, looking down on Tommy. He rips his arms from Schlatt and Mexican Dream with a glare, quickly crouching down to Tommy’s level. He’s still brimming with rage, but Tommy is more important to him than kicking Dream’s skull in.

“Hey,” He says softly, voice gravely from yelling, “I’m sorry for yelling, are you…” He trails off, staring at Tommy, noticing that it’s blaringly obvious that Tommy is not okay.

Tommy shakes his head, a few tears falling down his face as blood continues to get in his eyes from his busted forehead. Wilbur wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. Tommy flinches with his entire body at the pain that sparks across his skin. Wilbur cringes to himself and softens his voice, “Close your eyes,” He whispers, “it’ll eventually stop the stinging.”

Tommy does as Wilbur says. Wilbur looks up to Schlatt and Mexican Dream, opening his mouth to say something when the lava curtain to their right falls.

The lava falls to reveal Sam, he’s breathing heavily, having been summoned to the prison and sprinted to Dream’s cell when he heard yelling.

Wilbur curls around Tommy protectively and pulls his body to his chest. He sets his arms under Tommy’s knees and back then pushes himself to his feet, standing with Tommy secure in his arms. Tommy leans further into Wilbur’s chest, suppressing another whimper of pain.

Sam stares, speechless. Four people are standing before him, four people who should be dead, the kid he let die is in one of their arms.

“How…” He manages after a long silence, gaze fixed on Tommy, which Wilbur doesn't really appreciate.

Schlatt looks back to where Dream should have been, to tell Sam how, but his response dies on his lips.

Dream’s gone. - You can commission me for fics on my Patreon! :D

#tommyinnit #wilbur soot #jschlatt #schlatt #mexican dream #dream #awesomedude #dream smp #the revived au #the survivors of death

23 notes · View notes

doublerainebow · 4 years ago

Text

Take Me To Church

Dabi x Religious Reader

Just a fic that I threw up, partly to distract me from finishing my Hawks comic and my Pro-Hero Bakugo fic and partly because I get off like the thought of Dabi interacting with someone who is religious? Kinda?

Honestly, Reader’s religion doesn’t play a huge role in this fic. I mean, it kinda does in the beginning, but it fizzles out midway. I don’t even think the title is fitting, but it hits just right for me lol. Anyways, this is more like a “Dabi x Reader who happens to be religious” kinda fic.

Also, the nickname Dabi comes up for Reader is partly a reference to Yagami Yato lol.

~ Masterlist ~

~ My Hero Academia Masterlist ~

An easygoing hum of an upbeat hymn left your lips as you went around the small chapel, fixing the flowers for the service tomorrow and generally making sure that everything was in its proper place.

It was late, nearing 11 pm, and you were the only one left. However, you knew that by the grace of God, no harm would come to you, even in this odd time of heroes and villains.

*THUD*

You gasped at the sudden sound, your head turning towards the source of the noise.

Your brow furrowed. “No one should be here right now,” you uttered as you walked slowly to where the sound was made.

The source of the sound seemed to have come from the women’s restroom, which made sense as you left the window open to air out the small restroom. Some of the older women of the congregation loved to spray themselves with overbearingly powerful floral perfume.

“Ugh, it reeks in here…” You heard a distinctively husky male voice groan out, followed by a pained hiss.

“Hello?” You called out cautiously from behind the door. “Are you okay?”

You cringed slightly as you heard the person curse.

“I… I’m coming in!” You called out as you opened the door.

“Fuck, stay away!”

The warning was pointedly ignored by you as you looked inside the restroom.

Slouched against the wall was a familiar-looking man with charcoal black hair, blue eyes, and what looked to be skin grafts stapled onto his skin. A murderous glint shone brightly in his eyes as his left hand erupted in beautiful blue flames, though his right hand was stained in deep red blood.

“Get the fuck outta here,” the man growled.

You blinked, a little taken aback by how ethereally beautiful this man looked with the blue flames highlighting his features. “You’re hurt,” you stated obviously.

The black-haired man glared. “No shit I’m-”

The man was interrupted by painful coughs.

Worry ran through you as you hurried to kneel next to the man, mindful of the ball of flame he was directing toward you.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?!”

“Helping you,” you said matter-of-factly. You gently pried the man’s hand away from his stomach. A deep red splotch was staining his white shirt, making it near-impossible for you to access the damage. “I’m not a certified nurse or anything, but my church often helps in first-aid if ever there’s an attack by a villain,” you explained as you began to help the man up.

The black-haired man pulled away from you. “I didn’t say anything about wanting your help, bitch.”

You bristled at the insult, having never been called such a thing before. A smirk landed on the man’s face as he saw your hesitation. Nevertheless, you brushed the insult aside to wrap his right arm around your shoulders. A hiss left the man as he was pulled into standing up.

“That wasn’t very gentle of you,” he gritted out, putting out the flame from his left hand.

“I don’t think you would’ve budged so easily if I tried to be gentle with you, Dabi,” you retorted softly.

Dabi chuckled dryly. “So, you know who I am, after all…”

You nodded your head. “You looked familiar, but the blue flame gave you away,” you responded. “I can’t have you stay in the chapel overnight. I don’t think the brethren will be pleased to find a villain resting inside the house of God. I’ll have to bring you to my apartment.”

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to bring strange men over, church mousey? Especially if they’re, I don’t know, wanted criminals?” Dabi asked condescendingly.

“My parents taught me to help people in need, no matter their background,” you replied evenly as you tucked Dabi into the passenger seat of your car. Thankfully, it was late enough that not many people were walking around. “I’ll have to lock up the building first before I take us home…” You glanced over at the black-haired man. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dabi huffed out a laugh. “I’m not gonna die so easily, church mousey. Been hurt a lot worse than this.”

You frowned at the man’s words but left to quickly lock up the building.

By the time you were able to get back to your apartment and haul Dabi onto your couch, the black-haired man was breathing laboriously. You quickly went around your apartment to gather everything you needed to tend to the man.

“Despite the fact that you basically have a villain in your apartment, you’re pretty calm.”

“The person I see before me isn’t a villain. Just someone injured,” you replied softly, helping Dabi out of his jacket and shirt.

Dabi scoffed. “How noble of you.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead concentrated on treating the black-haired man.

Throughout the whole process, Dabi’s burning blue eyes never once strayed from you. You weren’t sure if he was trying to intimidate you or make sure you weren’t going to pull anything funny, or whatever. All you knew was that you could feel the unabashed intensity of his stare, and it was making you feel uncomfortable.

Now, it wasn’t that you weren’t used to people staring at you—as one of the choir members in your church, you were used to people staring absentmindedly at you—it was that the person in question staring at you was beautiful.

“What kind of Quirk was used on you?” You asked curiously as you inspected Dabi’s wound after cleaning away most of the dried blood.

Dabi shrugged. “Some kind of Quirk where the user could turn their fingers into claws.”

“They’re going to need some stitches. Some of these cuts look pretty deep…”

“Do what you gotta do, church mousey. I’m all yours for the night.”

You blushed at the suggestiveness of the man’s words, earning yourself a deep chuckle from him, but you continued on regardless.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb the pain.”

“Sweetheart, I have staples holding my skin together,” Dabi deadpanned. “Pricks from a needle are the least of my worries.”

You quickly averted your eyes, realizing your mistake. “R-right. Sorry. I’ll just… get to it then…”

The rest of the time was spent in silence as you sutured the cuts closed, taking extra care to be gentle. Once you tied the knot for the last suture, you rubbed some ointment across the stitches, dabbed away any excess ointment, and carefully wrapped gauze around Dabi’s midsection. Satisfied with your work, you began to clean up.

“Once I finish up here, I’ll bring you over to my bed. It should be a lot more comfortable there than my couch,” you mused absentmindedly. “You also wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping on dried blood.”

“First you bring a villain home, then you rid said villain of his clothes, and now you want him to sleep in your bed? I gotta say, I didn’t expect all that from a church mousey like you,” Dabi teased.

A strangled distressed noise left your lips. “I-it would behoove you to know that I’ll be the one sleeping in the living room!” You nearly shouted as you dumped your tools into your first-aid kit.

“Sorry, forgot you types practice chastity. You probably never even-”

“I’m not listening to any more of this!” You said as you heaved Dabi up, ignoring his pained grunt.

“I could’ve gotten myself up, church mousey,” Dabi gritted.

“Then learn to keep your mouth shut,” you snapped as you let go of him. “My bedroom is that way. If you need the bathroom, it’s over there,” you pointed around vaguely.

Dabi said nothing as he simply headed to the bathroom, presumably to clean up.

You sighed as you padded over to your bedroom to grab sleeping clothes to change into once Dabi was finished using the bathroom.

Your hands began to tremble.

Though the black-haired man had commented upon it earlier, the reality of the situation only now hit you.

You were hiding a criminal away in your home—a hauntingly beautiful criminal.

It was no stretch to think that Dabi might kill you once you outlived your usefulness to him. After all, you had every right to call the police or the Hero Association on him since he was a wanted villain, not that you would anyways.

You found him hurt, not committing a crime.

A gentle kick to your leg shook you out of your thoughts. “You gonna keep spacing out on me, church mousey?”

You looked up at Dabi, a bit surprised, though you noticed that he was cleaner than before.

Dabi looked away from you. “I’m gonna crash on your bed now.”

You nodded. “Alright. I’ll get ready for bed then.” You looked over the black-haired man quickly, remembering that he was still shirtless. “Sorry, I don’t have any extra clothes for you to sleep in…”

Dabi waved you off as he laid himself on your bed, not bothering to get under the covers. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Right. I’ll be sleeping in the living room then. I have a futon lying around somewhere… If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Dabi said nothing as you left your room, closing the door behind you.

Before you knew it, it was morning.

You guessed that you were more tired than you remember as it seemed that you slept through your alarms. You groaned as you sat up in your futon.

Something suddenly struck inside you.

Quickly throwing off the blankets, you hurried to your room.

Nothing.

No sign of the beautiful man.

The only sign of him ever being here were the bloodstains on your couch.

You sighed, melancholy filling you.

Without even noticing, the black-haired man with burning blue eyes left an impression on you, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to recover from it.

#dabi x reader #todoroki toya x reader #todoroki touya x reader #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x you #todoroki toya x you #todoroki touya x you #toya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x you #mha dabi #bnha dabi #todoroki toya #todoroki touya #toya todoroki #touya todoroki

68 notes · View notes

shadowhuntertrash · 4 years ago

Text

Lucie tortured + Merry Thieves

Lucie didn’t often spend time with just the boys anymore. She was often with Cordelia or Anna or Jesse, but it was nice to get to spend some time with her brother figures.

She was currently walking down the street with James, Matthew, Thomas, and Christopher. It was almost midnight and they had just finished patrol. Matthew and James had their arms around each other's shoulders, stumbling as they walked, both their heads were thrown back in laughter. She always loved seeing them together, they were both wonderful people but when they were together it just brought out a side of both of them that was simply better, easier.

Christopher was telling Lucie and Thomas about some experiment he was looking forward to conducting. Lucie was on Thomas’ back, having rolled her ankle while dodging a demon. It didn’t really hurt, but she never passed on an opportunity to be tall for once. Christopher was mad because Cecily had put her foot down and grounded him from experiments for two weeks when he had nearly burnt Anna’s shirt during his last one.

They were all enjoying each other’s company so much none of them heard the footsteps of the people behind them. No one was ready for the attack. They had been walking happily until Matthew turned to make a joke to Thomas and his face had gone a sickly pale color.

His silent scream was the last thing Lucie saw before everything went black.

Lucie woke up in a dim room with a pounding headache. She went to bring her head to her hand but found it was chained to the chair she was sitting in. Panic bubbled up in her stomach and she looked around quickly. She was in a dark room, it looked like a cellar of sorts, damp and humid.

Her head swiveled to the right when she heard a noise and a loud groan. “Who’s there?” She asked confidence in her voice that she was thoroughly lacking. The person to the right of her made a confused sound. “Lucie?” She heard her brother’s hoarse voice ask in the opposite direction of the other noise.

She turned to her left and saw her brother, slumped against the wall blinking slowly. “Jamie!” Lucie said, relief and fear soaking her voice. “Where are we? What happened? Where are the others?” She asked quickly, James groaned and she thought briefly that he must have a headache too.

“Matthew’s to your right, Kit’s behind you, and Thomas is in front of you.” He said weakly. Lucie strained to see him better, to search him for wounds but found it too dark to see anything other than his dark hair. She turned to her left and saw a mop of blonde hair, there seemed to be a dark spot in it and Lucie worried that it might be blood. “Math.” She whispered, trying to determine if he was unconscious.

Matthew lifted his head, his green eyes dimmed. “I’m alright Luce. We’re all awake.” He paused, a pained look on his face. “Except Thomas.” He said so quietly Lucie almost missed it. Without a second thought, her eyes were fixated on Thomas. She could see him best of everyone, a dim light bulb hanging loosely right above his head.

Lucie realized with a start that he was covered in blood and bruises. She gasped involuntarily and leaned as far forward in her chair as possible.

Thomas’ face was cut in such a way that reminded her sadly of his mother, their Aunt Sophie, her beautiful face scarred forever. His lip was bleeding, a startling red on his too-pale face. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a dark purple color. Lucie tore her eyes away, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

She redirected her attention to figuring out where they were. She shoved the panic down, looking around the room. She assumed Thomas had been awake or at least woken up far before anyone else. There were multiple things turned over, evidence that someone had put up a fight.

Lucie was hit again with panic when she thought about the bloodstain in Matthew’s hair. Lucie pulled at the chains, only managing to pinch her skin in the rusted metal. Lucie must have made a desperate noise because James was suddenly calling her name, telling her to calm down. “Luce, it’ll be okay. Don’t freak out or they’ll know you’re awake and come back.”

Lucie whipped her head around. “Who? Who will come back?” She asked, desperately trying to wrap her mind around the dramatic turn of events that led them here. James’ head tilted, something Lucie knew was his way of thinking before talking. Matthew saved him the trouble and answered her in a hushed whisper.

“There are three guys, they’ve come down a few times. They did that to Thomas.” He said, pointing to the best of his chained ability to where Thomas sat limply. Lucie said some highly unladylike words and turned back to Matthew. “What do they want?” Matthew shrugged, seemingly unbothered but Lucie didn’t believe that for a second, she knew he was freaking out on the inside.

Matthew shook his head, eyes not leaving Thomas. “I don’t know. They came down here and started beating up Thomas, something about ghosts and Jesse Blackthorn. Nothing they said made any sense.” Lucie’s whole body tensed.

This was about Jesse. Who else knew about Jesse? Why had they taken them instead of Tatiana or Grace? What do the men think they know? Questions were firing too fast in Lucie’s brain and she brought her hands up again unthinkingly, the chains holding them back once again.

James sighed softly. “We’ll be okay though. Mother and father will find us, they won’t stop looking. Our parents have probably already started.” Lucie turned back to Thomas, her heart plummeting when she saw his breathing had weakened. Lucie shuddered and turned back to her brother.

“I hope they hurry.”

Lucie didn’t know how long they had sat in the dark before three burly men came in, the door slamming open causing all of them to jump.

There were three of them, two were tall though not as tall as Thomas. The other one was shorter but he was deceivingly strong as he reached down and pulled Matthew’s hair, Matthew’s whole body came up and he gave a painful yelp, the man just laughed. “How’s that pretty little head of yours?” He asked, fake sincerity in his voice. Matthew just shook his head, staying silent in a way that made Lucie wonder how many times the men had been in there when she was unconscious.

The man standing in front of Matthew smirked and slapped him hard across the face. She felt a surge of protectiveness surge through her, James was yanking on his chains in a surely painful way. Matthew glared at the man but stayed silent, the man took him in with evil eyes. “I’m glad you learned your lesson.” He said before slapping Matthew again and turning to Lucie.

Matthew’s lip was bleeding and his cheek was red but Lucie didn’t have long before the man was in front of her, sneering down. “I’m Micheal, this is Colton,” He gestured to one of the tall men, Colton was squatting in front of Thomas, his broad shoulders blocking Lucie’s view of her giant friend. “This is Mason.” Micheal said, gesturing to the other man, who was standing by the door like a bouncer.

Lucie didn’t say anything just glared at Micheal as he stared down the end of his nose at her. “Not a talker, well we’ll see about that.” Without warning Micheal struck her across the face, she gasped collapsing back against the chair. James, Matthew, and Christopher who had been silent until this moment all shouted. James and Matthew were fighting against their restaurants, by the sound of it Christopher was too but Lucie couldn’t see him.

Mason walked behind her and Lucie could hear the sound of chains before she saw Christopher stumble across the room to Thomas. When he reached him Christopher fell to his knees, checking Thomas over and patting his cheek gently trying to wake him up. He was only there for a minute before Colton grabbed his arms and chained him to the wall.

Christopher didn’t argue, probably because he was close to his cousin, and instead just sat in a protective stance in front of Thomas.

Micheal snapped in front of Lucie’s face, causing her eyes to slicker back to his face involuntarily. Lucie looked into his cruel green eyes and watched as an intimidating smile grew across his face. Lucie just lifted her head and maintained eye contact, refusing to appear as scared as she felt.

“You’re a strong one, we’ll see how long that lasts.” Micheal turned his back to her and picked up something on the table, when he turned Lucie saw with a spike of fear that he had a large vial of ichor. She knew it would burn but she was used to that pain, she knew she could deal with it.

Micheal turned his beady eyes to her. “I think that out of everyone here you know the most. So I’ll ask you once before I get the real stuff out, where is Jesse Blackthorn.” Lucie shuddered and shook her head, mouth pulled into a thin line. She would not betray Jesse like that. “I don’t know, all I know about him is that he’s dead. I’m sorry to inform you of that if you had truly thought he was alive.”

Micheal’s eyes flashed threateningly but Lucie kept her chin held high. Before she knew what was happening Micheal had dumped half the vial of ichor on her cheek. Lucie let out a shriek, her body twisting trying to get it off but only managing to fasten its trip down her neck. James screamed at Micheal throwing curses and pulling hard on his chains.

Matthew was no better, screaming Lucie’s name and then screaming at Micheal to let her go. Lucie shook her head at the boys, Christopher was watching her with wide scared eyes. Lucie knew her cousin well enough to know he wasn’t scared about himself but rather scared for her, she also knew him well enough to know how long she could last before she gave up, or before her body did.

Lucie turned to James. “I’m okay, I’m fine.” She turned to look at Matthew who was still thrashing in his chain. “Calm down, it’ll be okay.” She was talking through gritted teeth, the burning sensation growing worse as it set in her skin. Lucie locked eyes with Micheal again.

“You can torture me all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re insane and I have no idea where Jesse Blackthorn is, other than in a grave.” Micheal watched her for a minute before he frowned. “Fine, you want to do it the hard way that’s fine.”

As he walked by James, James hooked his foot around Micheal’s ankle and when Micheal hit the ground James grabbed the front of his shirt, his hands twisting a weird way. “If you touch her I swear on the angel I will kill you. I’ll kill you.” He hissed dangerously in Micheal’s face, a flash of fear crossed Micheal’s face before Mason was hauling a still James away from him.

Lucie was startled by the darkness lurking James’ golden eyes. She knew he loved her but he needn’t be so protective, he would get hurt. Lucie knew that was hypocritical but she had to make sure James knew it.

The three men left briefly and the moment the door shut James was moving as close to Lucie as he could get. “Lucie, Luce, you’ll be okay. How much is on your skin?” He asked urgently, making exasperated sounds as the chains held him back.

Matthew had also moved as close to Lucie as he could get. Christopher had gone back to trying to wake Thomas up, but he kept sparing Lucie anxious expressions.

Lucie tried to focus on seeing how much was on her, trying to ignore the burning sensation and the smell that was making her eyes water. “It’s all over my cheek and neck. It’s setting but it’s not enough to cause too much harm.” Lucie said, her voice quiet but strong. James’ face relaxed slightly, taking relief in the fact that she would be okay.

Matthew on the other hand looked downright murderous. “That bastard. How dare he? How dare he! First Thomas and now you? All for some dead guy?” Matthew was slurring, his hands made into fists as though he was going to fight someone. For the first time Lucie wished he was slurring due to his drinks, but she knew it was just confirming that his head had indeed taken a bad blow.

James seemed to come to the same conclusion, casting his parabatai anxious glances. “Math-” James was cut off by the door banging open again, Matthew’s face screwed up in pain and Lucie had to fight down the panic that was rising quickly.

They all needed to get out now. Thomas wasn’t waking up, Matthew surely had a concussion, and Lucie desperately needed the ichor off.

Micheal walked up to Lucie, a blade in his hand. Lucie’s eyes widened significantly and she started squirming. “What are you doing? Stop! Why do you need him so badly?” She asked, desperate to distract him. He just shook his head. “That, young lady, is none of your concern.”

He came closer, the knife catching the only light in the room. Lucie’s breath was speeding up, all the boys were yelling and begging him to stop. “Stop it! Take me! Let her go and take me!” James shouted, Lucie was startled to see tears making their way down his face. Micheal turned to him annoyed. “Shut up, if she doesn’t answer you’ll have your chance don’t worry.”

James shook his head quickly. “No, let me go first then. Leave her alone.” Micheal glared at him before walking over to James and punching him in the face. Matthew called for his parabatai, pulling hopelessly at the chains. James just put up a hand, signaling he was fine.

Lucie watched her brother worriedly. His jaw was bent at a weird angle and Lucie was sure it was broken. She watched hopelessly as Micheal approached her again, she was all too aware of the knife he still had in his hand.

“I’ll ask you one more time before it gets worse for you. Where is Jesse?” He asked menacingly, towering over her petite frame. She locked eyes with him and said slowly, enunciating every word. Micheal looked at her with utter annoyance. “Have it your way.” He said glaring before he dug the knife deep into her shoulder. She screamed as pain blossomed from the wound, snaking around like vines. Matthew screamed her name but James stayed quiet. Lucie turned to her brother but he had his eyes closed tightly, focused on something.

Lucie didn’t know what he was doing until he started fading slightly and she realized with a start that he was trying to shadow travel. Lucie gasped and looked to Matthew who was looking at her with determined eyes, he already knew James’ plan.

She turned back to Micheal who was currently turning to look at James, Lucie panicked knowing she had to get his attention before he noticed James. Mason and Colton hadn’t come back in with him so as long as Micheal didn’t see James, they had a good shot at getting out.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Lucie said loudly, pulling Micheal’s attention back to herself. She knew it was the wrong thing to say but it got his attention and that was all that mattered. Micheal sneered at her and dug the knife into her side before she could say anything else.

Lucie’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed a silent ‘o’. She slowly looked down at her wound, Micheal had left the knife in and she could feel the point buried deep inside her.

The next thing she knew Micheal was mirroring her expression as he fell to his knees. James stood behind him, the murderous look still spread across his handsome face. Matthew fell to his knees beside her, James having unlocked his chains before stabbing Micheal.

Lucie finally let the tears fall as she slumped against Matthew, his arms wrapping securely around her. James put his foot on Micheal’s wound and Micheal gave a pained shout, James lowered his face so he could whisper in Micheal’s ear. “I told you I’d kill you.” James said before plunging the knife Micheal had left on the table into his chest.

Micheal’s eyes went wide once more before he let out a long breath and Lucie realized he was dead. James turned his eyes on Lucie and they softened, the darkness fleeing at the sight of Lucie in pain. His brotherly instincts took over and he fell to the ground next to her kissing the top of her head and putting his hand over hers on her stomach to staunch the bleeding.

“You’re okay. Lucie, you’ll be okay.” James whispered over and over reassuringly in her ear. Matthew let out a helpless sound scrunching his eyes shut in pain. James looked between the two then turned towards Thomas whose head was currently being cradled in Christopher’s lap who was whispering softly, pleading with Thomas to open his eyes.

“We have to go. We need to get out of here.” James said urgently. Lucie shook her head, she knew none of them were in the shape to be going anywhere other than James and Christopher. “No. No you and Kit need to go get help.” Lucie said weakly, James shook his head face crumpling as he realized it would have to happen.

“I’m not leaving you, Lucie.” Lucie smiled fondly at him, she knew he didn’t want to. “Someone needs to get help.” Lucie whispered. James fell silent before looking at Christopher. “Kit, get help. I’ll watch them and keep safe but you need to go get help.” Christopher made a noise of resentment but rose to his feet anyway.

He looked at Thomas once more before turning to James. “I’ll go but you have to help me get past Mason and Colton.” Kit said softly, James nodded before turning back to Matthew and Lucie. He ducked down to kiss Lucie on the forehead then turned and grabbed Matthew’s hand.

“I’ll be back.” He said before he and Kit slipped through the door.

#lucie herondale #james herondale #matthew fairchild #christopher lightwood #thomas lightwood #one shot masterlist #one shots

19 notes · View notes