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willwrite4mora · 3 years ago

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Childe x Reader: Blackmail

You can't believe you found an action figure for a child somewhere in these dangerous woods. Did a kid really drop this over here? What is a vulnerable kid doing in a place infested with hilichurls?

"Oh no, where did I drop it?" You heard a voice grumble somewhere a few trees away from you. You knew that voice. You looked around to see of you could find the man it belonged to.

Tartaglia of the Fatui. One of your sworn enemies. But damn it, he was such a hot guy. You didn't know if you'd rather kiss him or kill him, he was just too annoying but also way too good looking. And he seemed to be searching for something here. That couldn't be good.

You stuck the action figure in your belt. You knocked an arrow onto your bow and aimed in warning, getting out from behind the bushes. "Hands up, Fatui. I'm armed. Tell me right now what you were looking for here."

Childe jumped up at your voice and quickly turned your way, putting his hands up in surrender. Once he saw it was you who had him cornered, his surprise faded and he smirked.

"Ah, Y/N. What a lovely welcome as always. You seem happy to see me. Anyways, I was just looking for..." he trailed of when he eyed the toy on your belt. "Y-you found it! Give it back to me!"

He took a step your way and you shot a warning arrow right in front of his feet, quickly getting another arrow ready to fire. He startled and quickly took a step back, putting his hands up higher.

"Stay where you are," you warned. "What is this toy and why do you need it?"

"Ah, it's nothing special. It's kind of embarrassing, actually," he looked away for a brief moment, then met your gaze again. "I have a little brother. His birthday is coming up. That's his present."

"Ha, you think I believe that a harbinger of the Fatui sends his brother a simple action figure as a present?" you mocked. "I thought you had limitless funds."

"I do," he protested.

"Then buy a new one," you said.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"This one was specially made. It's one of a kind. That cost me my monthly salary and some."

You took a quick glance at the figure. It didn't look all to special, but you were not really knowledgeable in the field of toys.

Sensing your confusion, Childe added, "it's a character that he made up himself. Look at the joints. Every single one is separately movable. Even the fingers!" He seemed kind of proud of this toy.

"So, this thing is really special to you, isn't it?" you tried to pry a little.

"Yes, can I please have it back?" he asked. "Pretty please?"

"Of course you can," you said. You lowered your bow and Childe took that as a sign to walk over to you. You stuck your hand out to keep him at a distance. He didn't seem to expect that.

"You don't really expect me to give it back for nothing in return, right?" You smirked at him. He gulped.

"All right," he said hesitantly. "What do I need to do for you?"

You got him right where you wanted. He was now free to humiliate in any way you liked. "I have an idea. How good are you against Oceanids?"

"You know my vision doesn't work against those, right?" he asked with concern in his voice. "It would take me ages to take one down using brute force only."

"Oh, but isn't the great Tartaglia stronger than this? Can't you just use your Foul Legacy or something?" you kept mocking.

He cringed. "You know how much that hurts me..."

"I take that as a yes. I need some of its drops." You turned around and went for the direction of the creature. "Come on." Childe just groaned, but followed you anyway.

Well, Childe was right. It really did take him ages to defeat the Oceanid, not using his Foul Legacy. He was panting on the ground from exhaustion. But you had your Oceanid drops and were quite pleased with how much you were able to torture him.

"Okay," he breathed out, still out of breath. "You had your fun. Now give that toy back to me." He stood up on wobbly legs to extend his had in the direction of your belt. You simply bolted out of his reach.

"Nuh-uh!" you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. "This thing is worth more than just one battle, don't you think?"

He groaned in irritation and dropped back to the ground. "You can't be serious!" he yelled.

You were thinking on what else you could make him do. Should you let him walk around Liyue without pants on? Should you let him fight a boar with his bare hands? Should you make him kiss you?

Wait, what was that last thought about? Yes, he was hot, but he was your enemy! This handsome man was your enemy! You were completely red in the face right now. The stupid thought just couldn't escape you.

But, would it really be that bad if you made him kiss you? He couldn't deny you right now with the leverage you had over him.

"What's wrong? Your face is completely red," Childe stated.

You shook your head trying to clear your thoughts. Face still flushed, you faced him and declared, "if you want this back," you tried not to stutter, "you have to kiss me."

He looked back at you with a confused expression. "Kiss you?"

"Do you want it back or not!" you yelled, angry from your embarrassment.

He laughed and you got even redder. "After the Oceanid, I thought you were going to make me suffer even more." He got closer to you, wrapping one arm around your waist. He put a finger under your chin in order to make you look up at him. "But I think I'll quite enjoy this one."

He leaned in and kissed you on the lips. You kissed back immediately, way too eager to deny any longer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face even closer to yours. You felt his lips smirk against yours. He pulled you closer to him by the waist. It was perfect.

Then he broke away from you. You were still in a daze from the experience. Then you noticed the toy in his hand. You looked at your belt, where it used to be, and it wasn't there. He took it from you.

"Thank you for giving it back so nicely," he said with sarcasm. He turned around and started walking off. "If you want another kiss, I'll look forward to what you'll blackmail me with next time."

#genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction

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aenaxes-moved · 4 years ago

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inertia

[crosshair x gn!reader] removing crosshair's inhibitor chip was never going to be an easy task, but you never expect it to demand an item of equal exchange. otherwise known as picking up the pieces with crosshair, together.

warnings: past paralytic injury, general angst, hurt-comfort

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: as much as i hate physics, you can't deny there's a poetry to the laws of the universe. inertia keeps heavy objects in place, and guilt's one of the heaviest burdens of all.

There are certain universal laws you learn while living on a ship, like the slightly upsetting fact that magnetism is relative and so is time. But there are constants: the behavior of gravity around a massive star, the physics of self-contained gas giants, and, on a less macrocosmic scale, that Crosshair’s armor has neat paint, all clean lines and sharp edges bordering plastoid and standard issue paint.

It only makes sense, a steady hand demanded by a life behind the trigger, you think quietly, watching Crosshair carefully scrape the excess red paint from his brush on the side of a flat scrap of metal. With only the low hum of the Marauder to fill the silence, you follow his brush as you stand in the armory threshold and simply observe the slow deliberation of an even, unwavering line drawn from a memory even the inhibitor chip could not blur.

Not that it’s a particularly difficult thing to paint, the sharp, stylized edge of a nine. But there is a silent weight to its image, a firm and resonant return in its bold crimson colour, reclaiming its rightful place on his shoulder in amends, if the restless bob of his toothpick says anything.

If you look long enough, it’s like he never left. Like you never lost your legs.

“You’re back early,” Crosshair says, dipping his brush back into the paint squeezed over his makeshift palette.

“The rest wanted to explore, but the humidity was getting to me. And I missed you,” you add, and your heart swells when you hear him laugh softly in return.

“I believe you,” he chuckles. It’s a rare thing to come by, laughter genuine and sweet, even with Crosshair’s return—perhaps, because of his return—but you take it gratefully either way.

Two cups of caf in hand, you push yourself off the doorway and move to join Crosshair at his place on the armory floor. But as you set a foot forward, a bolt of pain laces up your ankle. It’s the kind of pain that precipitates a fall, starting low in the arch of your foot, gaining a momentum that renders you immobile by the time it’s clawed up your thigh and fizzled around the cybernetic plate welded to the base of your spine.

It fells you without warning or remorse, cracking you open with the bone-deep sensation of memory. A single ultra-ionized shot through a modified rifle and silencer, calculated and surgically precise, a one of a kind and the only one you have known.

(It wasn’t his fault.)

You jerk forwards, caf sloshing dangerously close to the rim, and you distantly register the clatter of plastoid across the floor before you feel a shoulder push up from under your arm. Long fingers dig into your side, reminiscent of better days and tender touches shared in the quiet comfort of a bunk, and you pitch unsteadily, eyes squeezed tight enough to see white.

As much as you would like to confirm the certainty of a stable support before you can relax, the lingering dredges of atmospheric humidity and exhaustion of breaking into a high security imperial compound work cruelly against your strength. You can do little but give in.

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you sag against the only person on the ship able to brace your fall. Miraculously, the caf, handles squeezed tight under your white-knuckled grip, remains unspilled.

“I ruined your paint,” you laugh through your teeth, fuzzy black edges slowly receding from your field of vision as you blink your eyes open.

“And I shot you,” Crosshair hisses.

Crosshair lowers you to the floor, and you feel a full-bodied flinch shock through his form as your unmoving legs splay awkwardly over the cold metal. He is quick to take the cups out of your hand, setting them down with a hard clack before he returns his attention to you. You had always thought Echo would be the one on the receiving end of carefully placed touches to coax the pain of surgical scars and rough wiring away.

You never once dreamed it might be you, too.

One arm secured around your shoulders, he reaches down like it’s muscle memory to rub slowly over the scar tissue framing your implant. The scars are fresh, just barely a week old and forever seared over your skin, but guilt, you have found, tends to hasten the learning process, the scrambling compensation.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you sigh, leaning against Crosshair’s chest and dropping your head back against his shoulder.

“I aimed. I pulled the trigger, y/n.” He’s angry, a low, simmering rage held close and bubbling under the hard edge in his voice as his grip tightens around you. You feel it in the faint tremor in his arm, how he holds you tight to his side and silently wills you to stay.

He is angry, but it is not for you.

“You weren't you,” you mumble.

It’s second nature—it always has been, now, simply with pause—to turn your head when he’s nestled up against your back, to lean close, nuzzle into his neck, and ground yourself, ground him, in the silence of touch. Relief floods your chest, warm sunlight dawning over the thorn in your side, when you feel him chase your touch, settling both his arms around your waist and ducking down low to press his chin atop the crown of your head.

Nothing would ever be the same, but this was a start.

“If it wasn’t me,” Crosshair starts, his voice catching on a sputtering inhale, thick with the tangle of words unsaid. He clears his throat, and if you notice the curling edges of a tremor on his tongue, you say nothing. “If it wasn’t me, who else can you blame?”

“I don’t blame anyone,” you say into his skin, lips ghosting over his rapid pulse.

It’s a diplomatic answer. Of course you blame someone—Palpatine, Tarkin, the fact that Crosshair and his brothers, every last one of the clones, had been built around a single, biding initiative that he hadn’t the luck or the chance to resist. You had been sleeping with the enemy even before he knew that he could be the enemy.

But thinking about it makes your head spin. Blame is too hard, too tiring to place when you, yourself, had been sewn into its vast web. So while Crosshair had slept with a bacta patch plastered to his temple, you had rewired your spinal cord and decided to be away with the anger, the resentment, the mornings waking up in tears when you lifted your blanket and barely recognized that you had legs at all.

“Don’t fucking lie,” Crosshair spits, and you feel him shake around you. Anger, such an easy defense. Such a flimsy one.

“I’m not—”

“I hear you cry in the mornings when your cybernetics don’t click; I hear you scream when you try to move and your mind tells you one thing but your legs don’t fucking work because I made a killshot that paralyzed you—”

“And it paralyzed me because you had every chance to put a bolt through my head but you aimed for my back. You were fighting it, Cross,” you counter, voice quivering.

“But it was me. I took that shot, and you pretend like you don’t—like you don’t hate me because I still had my chip. But I remember it, and it was still me, and you have every right to—”

“Cross!” you shout, and he starts hard enough that you feel him jump. You feel blindly for his hand, gripped tight at his own wrist, and squeeze, hard. “I have my legs back. And sometimes they don’t work just right, but all I care about right now is that you’re back. It’s all I’ll ever care about.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he mumbles into your hair, the sudden burst of vitriol tamed and locked away for the moment.

You’re distinctly aware that he itches to push you away. You feel it in the uncertain pause rigid in his movements before he turns his palm to twine his fingers with yours. After all, it’s easier to cope when the object of your crushing guilt is at an arm’s length.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to comfort me, tell me that you missed me too and that I was right, and you say that everything’ll work out, Cross,” you laugh weakly. You gently knock your head against his collar, prodding, urging, anything to break the crushing silence you know haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

Instead, you feel a shuddering sigh against your ear, and Crosshair only dips his head low, hiding his face in your shoulder as his grip tightens around your waist. There is no sardonic quip or playful bite to offer you peace—only slow, mechanical breaths pressed into your skin in a desperate attempt to keep from falling apart altogether. You reach up, gingerly carding your fingers through his hair when you feel that telltale warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt, salt sharp on your tongue.

“I shot you. I aimed to kill,” Crosshair mumbles, almost hysterical in level calm, the steady veil locking his tense jaw and drawn shoulders in place. “Why are you comforting me?”

“Would you rather I never speak to you again?” No malice in your tone, you shift your weight, bearing down against Crosshair and begging him to move closer. He does.

“It would be more believable if you did,” he mutters, and you catch the tail end of a soft sniff.

“Not really my thing, grudges,” you say. “Especially against the people I love.” Trailing your fingers lower, you slip below his hairline and begin stroking your palm over the back of his neck, bent forward at an unforgiving angle. You wonder how many times he’s curled into himself like this that he can simply sit, penance and grieving, and the ache that seizes your ribs hurts more than your cybernetic misfire.

“After all that,” he finally mumbles, something close to hushed awe in his voice. “You still love.”

Slowly, melting through the numb static crackle, you feel the sensation seeping back into your feet. You could always rebuild your mobility with some careful cerebrospinal implants, seasonal aches and occasional pains be damned, but you could never replace him.

“Of course I do,” you whisper back. Careful to keep the quiet, tremulous peace, you bring your hand down, sliding around the side of his neck to cup his jaw from behind, ignoring the wetness streaked over his skin. “Still loving,” you affirm, voice steady as you thumb over his cheek. “Still loving you.”

It takes a beat of silence, your words lingering in the still air of the armory, but instead of the tense, fraught grief of when your implant had fizzled out, there is warmth, present and forgiving. You know that nothing will ever be the same, but when Crosshair turns his head to press his lips into your palm, you know that you can still try. Like the waking groan of a crashed ship, you will pick up the pieces and power up one more time, again, again, again, as many times as it takes.

Crosshair nuzzles close, quietly basking in your presence as you sit curled together on the armory floor. And at last, his breaths still, slow and deep as the ship hums around you. He’s never been one for words, not even at his fever pitch of disorientation and distress. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he means when he clasps your hand again and holds tight, but his voice is a welcome sound all the same.

“Thank you.”

And for a while, that’s how you stay, breathing slowly and clinging to each other like moving apart would mean never coming back. And that’s how it genuinely does feel—the safety in stillness, carving out your own constant in the cosmic entropy of conquest and loss. For a moment, you can simply savor the quiet simplicity of being.

But the universe wills motion, stars colliding and collapsing and breathing new life all over again. So too, do you feel the strength return in lapsing waves to your legs and the coiled fear leach out of Crosshair’s posture.

“Promise me this,” you whisper, just loud enough to rise above the ambient noise of the ship as you curl your toes and feel again, lurching into motion like gears fallen into disrepair. Crosshair rouses behind you, and he sniffs deeply, once, before he presses his cheek to the side of your head—he is listening. “Promise me that we’ll move on.”

“I can’t promise that,” he says after a brief pause, words measured and low. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

As much as there are variables scattered through star systems and wreaking havoc wherever they go, so too are there constants pushing back against the chaos, aligning the universe. Like clockwork, when you wake, the stars turn, the gas giants dance, and when you squeeze Crosshair’s hand, he squeezes back.

#anyways if you want something to listen to while you read: we are by lee jin ah #that or: tunnel by colde #i just want him back hsdf #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #yaej.writes

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cinnamonrusts · 4 years ago

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i’ll see you in the village -- 3

parts: 1 2

Chris closes in on your location and he prays to see that you’re alive and well. However, you’re on the opposite side of the secluded village and come face to face with the big honcho herself, plus some of her troublesome “children”. (chris redfield x f!reader)

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

Chris's heart pounded in his chest as the squad’s van got closer and closer to the blip on the laptop’s map. He hoped that you would be okay - maybe staying in a home or met a friendly local... Your smile was all he could picture when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in to calm down. However, when he opened them, the van veered off away from the main road where the rinky-dink cottages were scattered about and headed into the woods. “Where are you going?” he asked as he leaned into the cab. Night Howl was behind the wheel, “Following the ping, sir.” Chris swallowed hard, if you were alone in these dark woods -- something could’ve went wrong.

The vehicle bounced around on the uneven ground and Chris held on to the back of the seat to keep himself upright. His eyes never moved from the windshield and his keen senses were on alert for any sign of you. Lobo spoke up just as the ping reached its loudest pitch, “Says we’re here.” Chris opened the door with one quick yank and he jumped out of the van. He pulled out his flashlight and his gun from his belt as he observed his surroundings. The area was as quiet as death and there were no signs that you even there. Chris walked around the area for quite sometime as his team watched him from within the vehicle, they exchanged brief words in regard to if they should help or stop him. But decided to let him do this unless he was met with danger.

His desperation reached an all time high and he started to shout your name into the dark. “[Y/N]!” Chris continued to walk and shout until his boot kicked something that was laying on the road. He kneeled down and shined his flashlight at the item that caught his attention. Chris picked it up and realized that the crumbled pile in his palm was once a cell phone. Technology seemed to stay at a standstill in this area and was mostly untouched by the outside world -- so why was there a cellphone here? The only explanation was that it was your phone. His tired faced drained itself of color and his heartbeat quickened to an unmeasurable rate. He was silent but his mind was loud. If anything were to happen to you, he would tear this entire place apart and tear through anyone just to get to you. His fist closed around the broken phone and crushed it more. As he came to a stand, he breathed out through his nostrils loudly and let the plastic crumble from his fingers.

Lobo stepped out from the van to approach Chris with concern, “Everything alright, Alpha?” Redfield’s eyes were fixated on the trees before him and he was silent - not even a twinge in his face, he was blank. “They took her,” he finally spoke after an awkward amount of silence. His head turned toward Lobo, “I’m gonna get her back.” Lobo nodded, “But Alpha, don’t forget about the main objective... with Winters.” Chris grit his teeth before he barked, “YOU DON’T THINK I KNOW THAT?!” He instantly felt regret and apologized for his outburst. His team was completely faithful to the man and followed him to the ends of the Earth. But, he was scared to lose anyone else... he’s lost too much already and if he lost you... he was unsure if he could handle that. Lobo patted his shoulder a couple times, “Don’t worry, Alpha. We got your back and we’ll find [Y/N].”

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

The Duke listened to your story intently and when you finished, he erupted in laughter. Your face crinkled in surprise at his reaction, “Did I say something -- funny?” you ask, offended. The Duke continued to chuckle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “If you’re going to tell me a tale, my lady, at least make it believable.” You scoff and thought briefly about how good you thought your story was but -- it didn’t fool this large man that sat before you. “Now, why don’t we start again, American?” The jig was up and you might as well just tell the truth. “How could you tell?” you ask and he chuckled once more. “Gypsies haven’t been around this area for nearly fifty years! And also, you lack of an accent from the area you claim to be from... it is rather funny, if you ask me!”

Your ego felt somewhat hurt by this stranger but that was besides the point. If he could easily see through your ruse, then maybe so would Miranda... “So...” you start to say before the wagon got slammed into from the side. You tumble around inside the cart as it flipped several times before it landed upside down. The Duke had been separated from you as the back part of the wagon broke free from the front part he was in, and the horse carried him away to safety but left you behind

You groan loudly as you roll to your side and try to push yourself up but couldn’t because of an excruciating pain in your leg. It is hard to focus because of the trauma that your head had taken from the crash plus the trip down the hill earlier. Once your vision cleared, you could see a rather large piece of wood protruding from your upper thigh. “Shit!” you curse as your shaky hands hesitated to pull it out. But it was too painful to even touch and your training kicked in, if you took it out, you would more than likely bleed out due to where it was located and you were far from help.

Loud noises shuffled around from outside of the wagon and you began to panic. Your hands shuffled through the broken pieces of wood that were scattered around in an attempt to find your pistol. The curtain at the back of the wagon lifted slowly just as you found your weapon, and you proceeded to shoot a warning shot. The curtain dropped and it was silent for a moment but your aim was still up. Suddenly, a large, black root slinked up under the curtain and yanked you out from your cover. You screamed loudly and desperately tried to aim for something to shoot at but you found yourself being held upside down. Stupidly, you emptied your clip into the air as you hoped it would hit the root.

✧.*

A woman stepped out from the shadows to slap your pistol out of your hand and you instantly recognized her face once she stepped into the moonlight. Her blonde hair and attractive features... they-they matched Mother Miranda! It was Miranda! Shit. Now you were deep in it... You followed the root that had a tight grip around your ankle up to the hem of her dress. It was apparent that she had abilities similar to that of the mold and BOWs, even better. “There was word of a rat in our nest,” she hissed, her voice feminine and powerful. Miranda’s stare was cold as she walked closer to you; her face closes in on yours and you could feel her warm breath on your sweat stained skin. “And the snakes don’t care much for rats. American agent rats to be exact.”

The root lifted you higher into the air and you were dangled above her head. Miranda looked up to you, “I think I will let the others help me decide what to do with you.” she smiled before the root slammed you down into the ground and your vision faded black.

Miranda lifted you from the ground and held your unconscious body in her arms. Black feathers spread from her back and wrapped around the two of you, then disappeared in a swirl of black.

✧.*

An unknown amount of time passed before you came to. The sound of a few people talking caused you to stir, their loud voices rang in your ear and irritated the horrible headache you had. “I say we strip her down, cover her in honey, and throw her to the rats! A rat for a rat!” a man’s voice boomed with excitement and it was the first sentence you could make out while coming to. “Let me have her! She’ll be turned into the finest of wine!” a woman’s voice that was not Miranda’s yelled over the man’s.

When your eyes opened fully, three faces turned toward you. “Well, well, good morning, sleepy head!” the male grinned and lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at you. A dark haired woman across from him stood from her chair and her insane height towered over you, “She looks healthy and plump enough to craft an excellent bottle.” The man stood from his chair and pushed her a bit, “You always want to turn the women into wine. Boring!”

The two of them began to bicker back and forth for several minutes until one of Miranda’s roots grabbed hold of your throat and reeled you in. “You two can fight over the child’s father. She - she will be mine to toy with, I’ve made up my mind,” the leader smiled a menacing grin which caused your blood to run cold. Inside you hoped that Chris would punch through the door and save you from your predicament, but that chance was slim to none. “Begone my children, I have work to do.” They obeyed her wishes and left.

✧.*

She wrapped her wings around you once again and kept you restrained while she forced you into her laboratory that was beneath the village’s grounds. “I could kill you but that would be a waste.” she spoke as she strapped you to a table in the middle of the room. You wiggled violently as you tried to free yourself from your imprisonment but cried in pain at the open wound in your leg. “A strong American agent like yourself could be an interesting addition to our family... think of it as an eye for an eye.” she walked away to a shelf and reached for a large glass jar which had a sort of creature inside. “You’ll be the first outsider to receive a Cadou implant. And I am oh so curious to see how you adapt...” She reached into the jar, pulled out the pulsating parasite, and slowly approached you.

Screams escaped your mouth as you thrashed around in another attempt to break loose but your restraints were so tight that they dug into your flesh. Miranda pushed your head down with force and pressed her palm into your forehead. The “Cadou” writhed around and long tentacles sprouted from within its fleshy mass and grabbed onto either side of your chest . Your last breath was a shriek of terror as it attached itself to your body and burrowed into your torso.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x reader #reader x chris redfield #chris redfield/reader #chris redfield #resident evil 8

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 7.1

"Don't make me say it again," Scaramouche warned. He conjured his catalyst once more, this time holding his palm out to you rather than charging at you.

"You want to fight? I'll make sure it kills you." Your eyes shone enough to further illuminate the entire room. Dottore made one of the Fatui agents note the brightness of your eyes in a notebook.

You didn't wait for Scaramouche to make the first move, and instead lunged at him. He evaded easily. Then he sent another bolt of electricity your way. You barely managed to duck in time, making sure to lower your weapon as close to the ground as possible to avoid shocking yourself again. You put your weight onto your hands and flipped yourself over, then stabbed at him the second you were back on your feet.

He's no Childe, you realized with widening eyes. I can beat him.

Childe leaned forward, his breathe hitching from the excitement. He itched to join the scuffle while Xiao kept his eyes focused solely on you. You performed his combo almost as flawlessly as Xiao did in past battles, this time being the one to pin the harbinger against the wall.

"How far do you want me to go, Master?" Your taunting angered the harbinger until a wild look consumed his face. "Is this far enough? Or do you want me to injure you? Tell me, what do you want me to do?" You hit the catalyst out of the air and it clattered to the ground several feet away.

Xiao marveled at your sudden change in personality. He had thought you were breaking, but maybe it was his own miscalculation?

"Since when did I give you permission to issue your own orders?" He threw himself at you and conjured his weapon once more. A fury of lightning strikes hit the air around you, but you were too quick in moving your polearm out of the way. The air charged with electricity, but it didn't do anything to you.

Well, except ignite a metaphorical lightbulb above your head. You sent a quick glance in Xiao's direction, but your attention was focused mainly on Childe. I don't need a vision. I can outsmart them. You slowly drew Scaramouche towards you until he was in the middle of the room again, then you charged at Childe.

"Huh?" It took a second for Childe to realize you were gunning for him and not Xiao. An excited smile played across his lips, and he let go of Xiao's shoulder. "I think I'll take this as an invitation." He summoned his bow and aimed a charged shot at your head. You ducked just in time, and it hit Scaramouche's catalyst. It exploded in a fit of electrical bolts and shattered across the ground. Childe cursed under his breath.

Scaramouche was beyond livid at this turn of events. "You--!" He turned his attention to Childe and was about to throw a punch.

"Now, Xiao!" You bolted for the exit as a precautionary measure.

"What?! NOW?" Xiao scrunched his brows together and glanced between the group of harbingers. He immediately began to concentrate a force of anemo around his feet, and the power slowly came to its crest.

"Wonderful!" Dottore cackled as he watched the two of you work together while Scaramouche and Childe were at each other's throats. "These were exactly the results I was looking for!"

Almost there! You nearly reached the set of doors when something pierced the back of your knee and sent you crashing to the ground. "Ngh!" Your fingers wrapped around Childe's arrow and yanked it out of your skin.

"--But unfortunately, this little performance is over," Dottore finished. One of his previously sleeping machines awoke from its slumber and shot a dart that landed in your shoulder.

"No!" You looked behind you to find Xiao also being effected by the wounds. "Xiao! Leave me! Go!" A fierce kick to your jaw shut you up.

Xiao bit through the pain and was near breaking the seal when a few portraits flared through his head of a small, purple-haired girl. Time seemed to slow down as he remembered her. I can't... His gaze slowly floated over to you. ...hurt you too...

.......................................

You woke up in your cell with your hands tied tight behind your back. "Dammit!" Your growl caught Xiao's attention, but he didn't dare look over. "I was so close--Wait. Why are you still here? I told you to get out. Xiao?" When he didn't look over to you, you wiggled your way into a sitting position despite the pain in your leg and scooted next to him. Unlike you, his hands were free. "Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"...I'm sorry."

"H-huh? What are you saying that for?"

Xiao leapt from the balcony of Angel Tavern and had just about reached to your hand when the portal closed and he was met with the empty night air. 'If only I had been quicker to hear her--'

The image flipped.

'Forgive me.' The Guardian Yaksha closed the little girl's eyes as he whispered an incantation. 'I will give you a second chance at life.' The purple-haired child mumbled something about herbs as she gasped for a decent breath of air.

"I..." You trailed off. I wasn't the only one? But he did something different that time...what was that? Some sort of talisman? "Xiao--" You shifted so you were positioned in front of him, and he lowered his gaze to avoid yours.

His eyes were part of an expression that was the saddest you've ever seen before. The confident, collected yaksha had finally revealed his vulnerable side. It never occurred to you that he had one to begin with, so you observed his precious state for a few quiet minutes.

"Was...she collateral damage?" Xiao didn't answer. "Hey. Could you please look at me?" He reluctantly gave into your request and raised his head, but kept his eyes at chin level. "What happened to either of us wasn't your fault. I'm not upset with you for not reaching me in time, either. What matters now isn't failures of the past; we are here together. You deserve to be free and happy. I'm more than happy to sacrifice myself so you can escape and live on without me. I mean, I'm going to die eventually anyway, right?" You leaned your head forward so your foreheads touched.

"You are my...companion. Even if you wanted to sever our connection, it would be impossible now. It's too strong, even without my blood connecting the two of us."

"Just because I'm willing to sacrifice myself doesn't mean I want to sever our bond. I've...never wanted to sever it."

"Hm?" His eyes finally met yours, and his saddened expression held a tint of confusion. "You never wanted to sever it? ...You...really are a difficult being to comprehend..."

"That's because I..." the words caught in your throat. "I..." Archons, why can't I get the stupid words out? "Xiao, listen," you took a deep breath to steady your racing heart as you stared directly into his eyes.

"Let me untie your hands," he interrupted the moment and gestured for you to turn around.

"U-um, okay." His fingers made quick work of the rope that had dug into your skin so much that the slightest brush of fingertips made you wince.

"There's something we need to discuss," he continued once you faced him again, eyeing the hallway to confirm that the bird device was completely out of the prison. "The others will be coming soon."

"Others?" The sudden change in topic made you want to kick yourself. There's no way you could gather up the courage to tell him again. "You mean Zhongli and Aether?" Why did he have to change the subject like that?

"Childe intentionally set out to hunt us down on the Tsaritsa's orders. I was woken by the fighting," Xiao continued to watch the door out of paranoia. "I passed out before I could be of use in battle, and didn't wake up until I was brought here. "Zhongli gave me a vision, a message while I was unconscious. He said he will return soon with help, but something about this is off. Something doesn't sit right with Childe."

"You think he might be helping us in some way?" You scoffed. "I'm not putting my faith in that monster."

"I'm not saying you have to. Just trust me when I say they'll be here soon. Don't lose hope, and don't sacrifice yourself for me." He put some distance between the two of you, and your heart shattered when you recognized he was emotionally distancing himself from you again.

"Right..."

.......................................

You decided to chase after your own confession once more a few hours later. "Do you have any desires, Xiao?" You absently traced the seal lines on the ceiling while you lay on your back.

"Desire?" The yaksha scoffed. "Do not judge adepti by your mortal ideals. I have no desire." He too lay on his back, with his arms folded behind his head as he stared absentmindedly at the most powerful sigil that was painted above him.

"That...kind of sounds like you're hiding something," you baited.

"Hiding? I'm hiding nothing. I just won't speak of desire to others. Do you mortals not have a rule about spoken wishes never coming true? Hm?" The cute way he upturned his nose at you brought a blush to your cheeks.

"T-That's not really the same thing...!"

"What do you mean that's not the same?!" He peered over at you when he heard a giggle escape your lips. It was light and airy, and he cherished the joy in your eyes when you met his. A small but unmistakable smile formed upon his lips. The two of you were grinning at one another, and a comfortable silence ensued as you continued to hold his gaze.

"Okay then, since you put it that way," you grinned to yourself and faced the ceiling once more. Xiao did the same. "Do the adepti ever fall in love?"

"Occasionally, yes." This prompted a side glance from you. "There is a half-human, half-adeptus in the Liyue Qixing. Ganyu."

"I think I've heard of her before." His recollection ignited a portrait of her within your thoughts.

"She is constantly faced with living between two worlds, both never quite having a place for her. She fought alongside Rex Lapis and I in the Archon Wars. But returning to your question, yes, there are occasions in which adepti will fall for mortals. I've never understood it myself."

"I see." You fell into a small silence as you dug further into anxiety. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

"No." The answer was way too quick for your liking, but Xiao continued. "I know nothing but death and destruction. Love does not interest me."

A weird feeling of vertigo hit you, and your eyes illuminated the cell a bit. "That's a lie."

"Huh?" Xiao snapped his head in your direction.

"Why are you lying to yourself? What are you lying to yourself about?" You weren't exactly conscious of the words spewing out of your mouth as if you were in some sort of trance while you gazed at him.

"I'm not," he defended.

"That's another lie. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right?" Your eyes dimmed back to regularity.

"Tsk." Xiao resumed his previous position on the floor and grumbled something under his breath that you couldn't hear. "Then what about you? Has a mortal as strange as you ever come to love someone?" This'll get her to drop it--

"Yes, actually." You regretted answering the second the words left your mouth, and heat rose to your cheeks. "Er, I mean..."

Xiao received a pang of what he assumed was the human emotion of jealousy. How absurd that he had been reduced to human standards of emotions ever since he joined Aether's team. "You haven't mentioned them before," he commented. "Does this happen to be the desire you spoke of earlier?"

"U-um...yeah..." Your fingers fidgeted over your stomach, and you clenched the fabric of your shirt as you contemplated your next words. You made a conscious effort to refrain from accidentally praying or wishing for him to know who you were referring to.

"Don't worry. I'll bring you back to them safely." He rolled onto his side so his back faced you.

"I-I...!" Your eyes wavered at his back. I can't do it. I can't bring myself to tell him. Dammit, why does this have to be so difficult? He's right here. We could die any day now. So why can't I just come out with it?

...............................

Coming up: Manipulating ojou-chan. The yaksha bears his mask. A breached contract. A deal with the devil.

#xiao x reader #xiao #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shots #genshin fanfiction #genshin x reader

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

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Bumblebee x Reader : (Transformers) Chapter 5

So, rather than dealing with the problem like a mature person, you settled for ducking Bumblebee. It was cruel, he did absolutely nothing wrong, but you couldn’t face him. You were going on day five without any kind of communication. It was getting harder because he pretty much knew your schedule. You were positive he picked on it, because he started swinging by in the mornings, which made it that much harder to slip away.

Hence the reason you were now mopping your school’s hallway. Because of your need to evade the cute Autobot, you’d been coming into classes late almost everyday. You had to take the longer route to school, you couldn’t help that. And it wasn’t like you could explain the situation to your teacher. You ran the mop along the floor slowly, dazing off.

You missed Bumblebee like crazy. Talking with him, staring at the sky, hugging him.

You wanted to slap yourself, why did you let something so foolish as a dream dictate everything.

“I’m done.” you weren’t going to run like a coward anymore. After this, you would march over there and apologize to him, hopefully he still wanted to be your friend.

“Oh, hello, usually I’m the last one here.” your eyes refocused and you stared at the male now standing in front of you. He was wearing a suit and glasses. He looked like a teacher, but you were almost positive you’d never seen him before. Giving a polite smile you nod, moving to place the mop into the bucket.

“Yes, a little detention. My fault really. Anyway I was just about to leave. I’m about done.”

“Leaving so soon (Y/N).” The way he said your name made your hair stand on end. Deciding that maybe this guy was some type of serial killer, you gave a nervous laugh.

“W-Well I should get going, my mom must be wondering where I am right about now.” You didn’t even bother to place the mop back in it’s designated area. You were pretty sure the janitor would prefer you escape a potential psychopath over returning the item.

“Can’t let you do that sweetie.” He removed the glasses, and you took a step back. The color of his eyes changed to an almost demonic bright red, and your heart nearly stopped when his body started changing into a machine.

You spun around, taking off in a sprint, there was no doubt that thing was following behind. Blasting out the door, you jumped over the short flight of steps, landing harshly, but still pushing forward. You picked a random direction, trying your hardest to increase your pace.

You tried to fight the tears that were now spilling from your eyes, but it was useless, if that thing caught you, you’d be done for. You made another sharp turn, only looking back for a split second to see if it was still following. You couldn’t even recognize the street you were on, your only focus was running as fast and far away as possible.

When your gaze redirected to the front, you grunted as your body connected full on with the car in front of you. Your body went right against the windshield, and you rolled all the way over the top, the pain running over your body like a wave. Your form crashed to the ground, and you let out a cry of pain, breath heaving as you struggled to get to your feet. It took you a second to realize you’d gotten yourself on an empty street. There was no one around. No one to see, no one to protect you. You were alone, all alone.

The car before you grew in size, and you looked up, watching the way the robot hovered over you like a dark cloud. There was a sick way in which it leered down at you.

“I’d never understand why those autobots are so fond of you humans, you’re such useless fragile things. Insignificant. “ Moving just your arm felt like a challenge, so getting your body to stand upright was out of the question. Sobbing, your eyes caught the insignia that was engraved at the bottom of his leg. The pointed edge was a dead give away.

He was a decepticon.

“Tell me human, where is the base of those Autobots, and maybe I might just spare your life.” you kept your mouth shut, and although you were in excruciating pain, you would have rather died than disclose such information.

Your silence was all he needed.

“Very well, I’m going to enjoy tearing your limbs slowly from your body you uneducated ap-” a blast shot out from behind you, hitting him square in his chest. He gasped, stepping back. Turning your head, you swore you’d never been so relieved to see the black and yellow painted vehicle.

Bumblebee transformed almost instinctively, shooting out and tackling the Decepticon to the floor. The both started wrestling, each making vicious swipes at each other. Bumblebee’s face plate was drawn, and the anger in which he struck the other robot was unlike anything you’d ever seen. He summoned his cannon, grabbing the Decepticon’s neck with one hand as he aimed the cannon with the other. There was no hesitation as he shot the beam, and it took the Decepticon’s head clean off.

All you could hear was gargled sounds of the words as he dropped the remainder of his body to the floor, uncaring. You were still on the ground, shaking in terror of the events that just transpired right before your eyes. When Bumblebee was sure the threat was dealt with, his body relaxed, and he turned to you. His hands lowered and you could see the weapon retracting, his metal fingers forming back into place. His steps were slow and he knew it was more for you than him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out for you, but the look of horror, even though it wasn’t directed at him, it made him question himself.

“Bee..” his head dropped.

“I’m... so sorry (Y/N)..” The words that left him, it made your chest hurt. You couldn’t hold back in your tears. So you cried, right there in the middle of the street. And Bumblebee sat with you, all he could provide was comfort, because no amount of words would truly make you feel any less afraid.

~~~

Bumblebee had scooped you up into your arms at some point, and honestly, you were a bit disoriented when you woke up in the hospital the very next day. You supposed the strain of it all had caught up, and your body just gave out. Your mother of course freaked out. But after the doctors assured her that all you sustained was a few broken ribs, she seemed to be more at ease.

She practically slept there, even when the nurse’s tried to get her to get something to eat, she refused to leave your side. Sam and Mikaela showed up, and you were more than grateful. Mikaela managed to get her to take care of herself, and Sam promised to look after you so she could get a shower, and some actual food. Giving you a kiss goodbye, she left. Sam took a seat at the side of your bed, and you sent him an impish smile.

“You look like shit.” you giggled at that. “Wow Sam, way to make a girl feel good.” He was smiling, and he took your hand, looking down at his feet. You could see the guilt on his face.

“This is my fault.”

“Come on, are you for real right now. Please. I just spent hours convincing my mom that nothing she did could have prevented what happened. She thinks it was just a car accident, and I hope it stays that way.”

He sighed. “If I never told you about any of this, you’d be safe. If Optimus didn’t warn us about the interference, who knows what could have gone down. (Y/N) you were almost killed, just for knowing about this, about them. I never should have-”

“Stop it!” your yell startled him.

“No one forced you to tell me anything, it was my decision to go into those woods that day, and I regret nothing Sam. Absolutely nothing.”

“(Y/N).”

“I’m serious. When I found out, I knew it wasn’t danger free. I’m not going to lie, when it came at me I was..” you squeezed his hand.

“I was petrified. I really thought that..that I was going to die there, alone. “ A single tear ran down the side of your cheek, and you swallowed to prevent your voice from breaking.

“I understand all the risks that come with this friendship, and even so, I’d never trade it. Not for anything. “

It meant more to him that you realized that you felt that way.

“But Sam, just promise me that, if anything like this ever happens again. Please...just keep my mom safe.”

“(Y/N), nothing like this is going to happen again we’re ready this time an-”

“Sam!” he froze, and the way you looked, he could tell that you’d calculated it all. All the possibilities of disaster.

“Promise me.” you begged.

He let out a staggered breath, covering your hands with his.

“I promise.”

That was all you needed. Nothing else mattered.

#bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #protectivebumblebee #transformers #optimus prime #ratchet #sam witwicky #mikaela #teens #fights #feelings #friendship #friends to lovers #autobots #decepticons #Protection

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duuhrayliegh · 4 years ago

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watch your six - part seven

pairing: bucky x reader

warnings: violence? (not much though), knives, bad crying

word count: 3545

a/n: this is part seven!! i have no idea where this is going, so we’re all being shocked by the events occurring :) i’m proud of this one

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

watch your six series m.list

ray’s m.list

“Okay, just lay back, this might be a bit jarring for you, so sorry in advance.” This woman couldn’t have been much older than you. You were still a bit fuzzy on what exactly was going to be happening, despite her already explaining everything.

Your eyes passed over the group around you. Tony Stark was behind a clear topped table with tools scattered over it, tinkering with his suit helmet. He was muttering about how he hated HYDRA blasters while the eye slits of his faceplate flickered between blue and a lifeless gray. Natasha Romanoff was sitting next to Clint Barton. Natasha was speaking to Clint, her gaze not leaving your form. Clint was oblivious to what was going on around him as he began reloading his quiver.

Steve Rogers was in the corner with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Steve was standing facing away from you, arms crossed over his chest as he spoke with Sam. Bucky was leaned against a table, sharpening a knife that he held with his metal hand. Honestly, the action made your jaw clench every scrape. You locked eyes with his steely blue pair, he didn’t blink, attempting to assert dominance or whatever an alpha male would do.

Fingers snapped in front of your face which brought your attention back to Wanda. “I need you to lay back.” A deep breath passed through your lungs, exhaling heavily through your mouth. Swinging your legs onto the table, you straightened your body, settling your arms at your sides. “I’m going to place my hands at your temples and then we’ll begin, okay?” You were thankful that she was making sure you knew what was going on. Nodding in response, you closed your eyes at her instruction and she began counting backwards from three.

Streaks of red danced behind your lids and you could feel your eyes trying to follow them. You swallowed harshly as a memory jolted to the forefront of your mind. You were thrown head first into the recollection.

Gemini stared at you, snapping her fingers in front of your face like Wanda did. “Hello? Are you with us or not?” Her black hair swayed against her shoulders. “Libs, I’m going to need you to quit drifting. If you do that on a mission, it could be life or death.” She berated you, walking to her half of your quarters. Your head shook back and forth, mouth moving with the memory.

“Yes ma’am.” You snickered at her, sticking your tongue out at her shocked expression. “When do you think they’re going to assign me a mission?” You were practically bouncing off the walls at the thought alone. Unbeknownst to you, this wasn’t all in your head. Wanda could see the memory in real time, but the others could hear your end of the memory as well. You couldn’t stop your mouth from voicing your half of the conversation.

“You know, I don’t know the answer to that, Libby.” Gemini pulled her desk chair out, straddling it backwards, resting her forearms on it. “You just need to have some patience. It’ll come, just give it time.” You groaned and raised your body into a sitting position, leaning forward with your palms on the edge of your bed.

“I don’t like waiting, Gem. Part of the reason why I fast tracked through the training program.”

“You fast tracked through the training program because you were naturally good at everything we threw at you, Libra. No other reason than that.” She laughed at your facial expression. The Avengers around you were confused as to why your face morphed into one of annoyance.

“That may be the case, but I still got into the Virago. And on top of that, I’m the youngest of the Zodiac.” A proud smile stretched across your face. “Plus, I got teamed up with you and let’s be honest, that’s the real accomplishment here.” She shot you a look and you both giggled. A ping sounded from the sound system in the ceiling.

Zodiac meeting in ten minutes. Be in the conference room and ready by the time I get there or there will be consequences.

“Oh, looks like you might be getting a mission sooner rather than later, Lib.” Your eyes widened at the possibility, excitement rushing through your veins.

“Or they could be just calling us in to yell at us again for sucking it up in training.” Your body shuddered as you thought about a few weeks ago. Your CO had hired help from some elite company to assist with the Zodiac training. It didn’t end well when you didn’t meet their standards. “Let’s hope it’s a mission, that would be way better.”

Your body jolted and you fell off the table, quickly catching yourself before you completely face planted into the concrete floor beneath you. Pushing yourself to sit your ass on the cold floor, you looked around the group. Confused faces were spreading, Natasha and Bucky seemed resigned, as if they had more knowledge. Wanda helped lift you onto your feet, checking to make sure you were okay.

“I’ve had dreams about that place before, about those people.”

“You didn’t think that was important to tell us?” Tony sassed from behind his table. “If you had memories resurfacing, then that means you went through something to suppress them. Like Tin Man over there.” He jerked his head to Bucky, who had a solemn look on his face. He had stopped sharpening at some point, and now he was talking to Steve about something.

“You have something you want to share with the class, Barnes?” You were so done with secrets being kept from you. Everyone around you seemed to know what was going on with your life more than you did. Steve stared at you from beside Bucky, hands on his hips, accentuating his Dorito shaped torso.

“I remembered something about the Virago.” Was all he replied with. You were waiting on him to elaborate on what he meant.

“Wonderful. What did you remember about it? I’d really like to know what the hell is happening.” You started towards the man across the room. He had information that he wasn’t giving the room at large to work out. “And if you’re the thing that’s preventing me from going back to my normal life, we might have a problem, Barnes. So, if you would oh-so-kindly, provide all of us with your newly discovered knowledge, that would be greatly appreciated.”

You had made it about the halfway spot of the room when Bucky silently unsheathed his recently sharpened knife and aimed it at you. Time slowed as you watched the blade spin through the air. You moved your upper half to the right, dodging the slice and catching it with your left hand. Your body continued without your guidance as you rushed Bucky, pushing the blade to his throat. Blinking brought you out of your dazed state as you recognized that you were now pressing the sharp object hard enough against his neck to draw blood.

Retreating quickly you dropped the knife to the ground. A resounding ring reverberated through the now silent room. Your hands shook and tears gathered at your waterline. What the fuck was that?

“The Soldier was tasked with training the Zodiac, current and future.” Bucky’s rasp was the only noise beside your exaggerated breaths. “I knew you were going to catch it, by the way. It’s instinct for you.” He leaned his weight back against the table, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Wanda was the next to speak.

“You realize you just scared the shit out of all of us, right?” You weren’t quite sure if she was referring to you or Bucky, but you guessed it didn’t really matter. You swallowed harshly, biting back the need to cry. Who the fuck am I?

“I’ve heard of the Zodiac.” Natasha was next, still sitting comfortably atop the table next to Clint, legs crossed underneath her. “They were like the Americanized version of the Red Room’s elite. It started out as a SHIELD organization but that didn’t last long. As soon as HYDRA found out, they figured out how to take it over. I think their first plant was a woman named Bianca?”

“What else do you remember?” Steve was commanding the room as you thought he would. It wasn’t until he placed a hand on your shoulder that you realized he was talking to you. “We need you to walk us through your dreams, Y/N. Just so we can get a clearer picture, it’ll probably help spark Bucky and Nat’s memories too.” He shifted his hand to hover over your lower back, guiding you back to the hard table. Climbing up, you closed your eyes and recalled the other two dreams.

“Um, I remember getting my first mission assignment? Actually, it might have been my only mission assignment.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it didn’t end well?” You said in a duh tone, gaining your confidence again. You had no reason to lose it before, you just found out that you were kind of a bad ass. “The whole group was tasked with getting some data from this Louis Richardson guy? He was a part of the Svengali, that was what Suits kept asking about. Supposedly Richardson was a high up guy because they put all of us on that one.” You shook your head, trying to clear up the memories. “It was my first assignment, so clearly I was excited to prove myself a useful addition to the Zodiac.”

“What was the mission exactly?” Tony questioned from his spot.

“Half of us were monitoring the party, making sure if there was a fight that the public didn’t cause a riot. The other half was Plan B. We sat outside the safe house Richardson was allegedly using if his drop went south.” Your breaths shuddered again, recalling what happened next. “Of course, it did. We were only supposed to monitor it, but Gem decided that the info was too valuable to let it slip by us. So, we went in and everything went to shit.”

“My instructors talked about that. They said that they killed everyone though. How did you manage to slip by?” Natasha asked, shooting you an inquiring glance.

“Obviously, she didn’t because they had to wipe her memory, like Manchurian Candidate.”

“Gemini and I were the last ones left and then she sacrificed herself so I could escape, get back to headquarters, those were her orders. Stop drifting, watch my six and run like hell to HQ.”

“Well, that’s how they were able to wipe her.” Bucky added quietly, his mind elsewhere.

“If HYDRA had already taken over the Virago, then they would’ve been able to take her without question.” Natasha finished Bucky’s thought as she watched you on the table. Steve stood next to you, squeezing your shoulder as a comfort. You glanced at him and saw a motherly expression had taken over his features.

“Why would they wipe everything though? They still could’ve used her?” Wanda questioned from her position next to Tony. “I mean, if you were a natural like Gemini said that you were, then I’m sure HYDRA would’ve found something to do with you.” Bucky walked out of the room quickly, leaving the rest of the occupants stunned as to his sudden departure. Steve jutted his head at Sam who followed Bucky. Tony was working through all the facts tumbling around in his head. He began talking to Friday about gathering any information she could find on Louis Richardson and several other things. You sat in silence, continuing to sort through half broken memories and dreams.

**********************************************

Bucky had to get out of that room and away from that woman. Sensory overload was overwhelming him, increasing his need to evacuate. He stepped outside, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass. He dropped his head into his hands, sinking to his knees on the ground. Bucky despised being vulnerable in front of people. During his time as the Soldier, vulnerability was punished harshly. He was used to swallowing his emotions, shoving them into the dark corners of his mind. Now being free of HYDRA's grip on his mind, he still struggled with displaying his emotions. All he wanted to do was shout until his throat was raw and his voice scratchy.

“You okay, man?” Bucky had figured it would be Sam. An almost neutral third party with experience in counseling veterans, plus Steve was busy dealing with Y/N. Bucky continued to inhale deeply from his crouched position, not responding to the man behind him. Sam took his increasingly calming breaths as a sign that he wasn’t about to keel over. He came up next to the man, stretching his hand out to Bucky for him to grab. “Come on, old man. Talk to me, what’s going on in that cyborg brain of yours?” Bucky shot the man a weak glare, while pulling himself to his feet, resting his hands on his hips. He brought his right hand up to rake through his dark hair.

“I remembered something else, Sam, and I just couldn’t be in there with her anymore.” Sam hesitated to ask, almost afraid of the answer that he was going to receive, but he knew he needed to.

“What did you remember, Bucky?” There was a heavy pause hanging in the air between the two. They both knew what Bucky had remembered, but it needed to be said out loud to be real.

“Her screams.” There were tears gathering on Bucky’s bottom lashes, threatening to spill over. Sam outstretched his hand to Bucky, not offering pity to the man on his knees. Sam knew what it felt like to be pitied, not a feeling that he wanted to bestow Bucky with.

“You’re going to be okay, man. It’s going to take time, but it’ll happen.” He faltered before continuing, “You know you’re going to have to talk to her about it, right? If you remember, she will too eventually. Especially if she keeps working with Wanda, they’re going to get to that point. It’ll be better to hear it from you than for her to waltz in there unprepared.” Bucky nodded solemnly, bringing his right hand up to scratch his stubble.

“I know.” His voice shook slightly. “But how do you tell someone that you didn’t do anything while they got tortured and experimented on?” Sam’s eyes searched Bucky’s for any sign that he was forgiving himself. What Bucky did when he was under HYDRA’s thumb wasn’t his fault, but this was going to set Bucky back.

“Look, you know that was the Soldier who just stood to the side because you, Bucky Barnes, would’ve done something.” Sam reassured the man with silent tears tracking down his face. He placed his hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder before giving it a squeeze. “Damn it, I can never remember which one it is.” They laughed at his comment, Bucky knew it was for his benefit but he was thankful for it.

The pair entered the compound again, hoping to avoid anyone for a few minutes so Bucky could recollect himself. They weren’t that lucky though seeing as how when they walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, the whole team plus one was gathered around the granite countertops. If any of them noticed Bucky’s red-rimmed eyes, they chose not to say anything, thank fuck for that one.

“We’ve decided that Y/N will be staying here for the foreseeable future.” Tony piped up, breaking the silence that hung over the group. “She’s going to continue to work with Wanda for her memories.”

“I still don’t like this Tony.” It wasn’t often that Steve openly disagreed with Tony, so when he did, it turned heads. “She shouldn’t have to go through with this for us.” Tony opened his mouth to reply when Y/N spoke first.

“Excuse you, Captain. She’s right here and she can make her own decisions.” Her arms crossed over her chest defensively. “You seem to be forgetting that there is a whole part of my life that has been stolen from me. I want it back. If I have to do this to get it back, then that’s what I’m going to do. Helping you is secondary, I just want to make that clear.” A smirk formed on Bucky’s lips, no one stands up to Steve, mostly because he’s usually right.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Tony turned to leave, probably going to his lab to tinker his anxiety away. He pointed a finger at Y/N on his way out. “I like you.” A satisfied grin spread over her features, she’s proud of herself. The first thought that popped into Bucky’s head was that she was being adorable, but he quickly squashed that idea. Not happening, you let her get hurt there’s no way that she’s going to want you. Bucky didn’t sense Steve approach him, too lost in his head.

“You good, Buck?” The man wanted to say no. He wanted to have his Stevie back with the couch cushions on the floor and the newspapers in his shoes. He wanted to go back to 1941, before he got drafted. He wanted to go back to his Ma’s cooking and playing with Rebecca. Hell, he wanted to go back to pulling stick-man Steve out of back alley fights. However, Bucky knew that wasn’t how it worked.

“Yeah, I’ll get there.” Bucky knew that he had it good now. The Internet, less boiled things, no Polio, this unfortunately was a good time period to be stuck in. He just hated that he missed everything else. He missed Rebecca graduating high school and walking her down the aisle, it hurt his heart to think about all the things he wasn’t involved in.

“Where am I staying, room-wise?” Y/N’s voice cut through Bucky’s thoughts, allowing him to refocus on the matters at hand. He needed to figure out how to tell Y/N what he remembered, and that he was sorry, but that will come later.

“There’s an empty room next to Wanda and Vision, I think?”

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea, they’re loud.” Clint cut in, then leaned towards Y/N. “Pillow fights.”

“Okay, well then there’s one next to Sam’s.” Natasha replied, making a face at Clint’s comment. Bucky stiffened as he pictured their room’s hall. The first door on the left was Steve and Bucky’s was next to his. Across the hall was Sam’s room in front of Steve’s and the empty room was opposite Bucky’s. He wasn’t thrilled with the arrangement, but he also wasn’t going to argue with Natasha, not after what happened the last time he did.

“Sick, will someone show me where it’s at?” Steve volunteered, needing to get something from his own room anyway. Bucky sighed heavily at Sam who was wearing an encouraging expression.

*********************************************

“Okay, so this is my room and Sam’s is here.” Steve held his arm up to pick out each room. “This is Bucky’s next to mine and then this is you.” It did make you feel a bit better knowing that you were surrounded by some of the most skilled fighters ever. “Bucky has an apartment in the city, so he’s not usually here. He uses this room when he’s here for missions or check-ups, but Sam and I are always here. We’re either training recruits or out on a mission.” You bobbed your head in acknowledgement.

“I’m going to have to get some of my stuff from my apartment, clothes and shit like that. Those bastards took my laptop so I’ll need to go get another one of those, too.” Steve faltered.

“Why do you need a laptop?”

“I do still have a job, Steven. Not all of us are superheroes or world class assassins. I’ve got to make a living somehow, and that somehow is actually-- oh my god.”

“What? Is everything okay?” Steve became concerned so easily.

“Yes, I just realized that I need to call my boss.”

“Look, Y/N. You’re going to have to take a leave of absence or something. Just while we figure all this stuff out. If you’re posting things online or you’re talking to people over the phone, then you can be easily tracked back to the compound.” Steve placed his hands on his hips. “It’s just easier for everyone, if you just lay low for a while. No work, no outside communication.” Your jaw clenched.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. How am I supposed to make a living, Steve? I can’t just live in constant fear because of this. I want to be able to carry on with my life.”

“If HYDRA gets ahold of you, you won’t have a life to carry on with.” Steve had taken steps closer to you. You gulped causing him to back up. “You’re going to work with Wanda and follow our rules. This is for your own good, Y/N, I swear it is.” Nodding numbly, you opened your room door and flopped onto the bed as soon as you saw it. How the hell did I get myself involved in this?

**********************************

@indigo123789 @austynparksandpizza @zozebo

#watch your six #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james barnes fanfic #james barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan

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onthecrosslook · 3 years ago

Text

Three Acts

Note: Fuck it, I’m just going to post this now. @call-me-moo.

Act Three

I dial Mary’s number on my dying mobile. “Do c...come in. It’s a little cramped…I must warn you.”

I’m sitting on a rickety old chair in an abandoned building. No, not even a building- a mere façade.

Just like Mary.

I shake away the thought and concentrate. I don’t have long before I start bleeding through the stitches. Every passing minute is crucial to both the plan and my survival.

I’ve already gotten through the bulk of the phone call with Mary. It’s mostly filler to keep her from storming inside and shooting me on sight, and it’s working so far.

Like scenes from a play...

She’ll be coming inside soon, judging from her initial distance from the building. It won’t be long now.

I can hear her breathing quicken over the line as my question grows more and more personal. “What do you want, Sherlock?” she growls, her voice lower than I’ve ever heard it.

“Mary Morstan...stillborn in 1972. Thought it’d be...a-awfully clever, taking her name like that,” I say softly, clutching my chest with my free hand. “It’s why you don’t have any...f-friends from before...then.”

Common enough tactic.

Mary’s sharp laugh rings out. “You don’t sound very well, Sherlock. Perhaps we should get you to a hospital.” Her voice lowers. “Or a morgue.”

“How...how good of a shot are you?” I ask, biding my time with the questions. I need to stall. Answers can come later, hopefully with John’s assistance.

Even so…

I need to know.

I can almost hear her smirk from the other side of the line. “How badly do you want to find out? I’d be more than happy to demonstrate. I can see you’re right in front of me, it would only take a single pull of the-“

“If you’re such a good shot…” I take a few shaky breaths and continue to interrupt her, “…th-then...demonstrate. Unf-fortunately, I don’t have any l...live targets, forgive me. You’ll h-have to...settle for a coin.” I force a weak laugh that makes my stomach ache and my labouring lungs burn. “That is...i-if you can…”

The line crackles a bit on her end. “You think you can bait me, Sherlock? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yes, Mary.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“I want to...know how good you are,” I say encouragingly. “Go on...the doctor’s wife must b-be...rather bored, by now...Because…” I gasp for a much-needed breath.

“Because what?” she snaps, frustrated, as she adjusts the leather strap of her heavy purse.

Added weight of the gun. Obviously unaccustomed to carrying it around. Is she still a good shot?

“Because...you’re a psychopath...and p-psychopaths get bored.” I groan into my coat collar in pain. At this rate, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out.

“Ha,” she scoffs. “I’ll entertain you, Sherlock. God knows you can’t have much left in you, anyway.” Mary pulls out a fifty-pence piece from her purse and holds it aloft. She glances above, gauging the height of the ceiling with a critical eye, and flips the coin in the air. In one swift move, she aims the gun and fires. A metallic clank is heard, and she smirks triumphantly.

I hang up the phone with a flourish. “Impressive,” I whisper, the faintest smile on my face visible in the flickering light.

Mary turns to look at me, clearly startled. “You’re…standing. Then who...Ah. I see. A dummy? Fairly obvious trick, don’t you think?” She slides the coin over to me with the tip of her boot.

I lean over with a grunt and pick it up, pausing only to examine it. I straighten up, the stabbing pain making it harder to stand. My breathing is growing more and more erratic, but I choose to ignore it in favour of my deductions.

Ordinary fifty-pence coin, no obvious assistive modifications. Hole where the 0.38mm bullet penetrated is precisely in the center. Fifteen-plus years in the killing business, at least. She’s a remarkable shot, I’ll give her that.

Not good enough, though.

“Impressed?” she asks, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Spectacularly...accurate sh-shot, yet you...failed to place...a kill. Sentiment, or d-did you...not want to...blow y-your cover?” It’s a risk to taunt her so openly, but unfortunately a risk I must take.

“Neither. John wasn’t supposed to come save you. The doorframe creaked fairly loudly and that alerted him. You would have died if it hadn’t been for my damn recklessness,” Mary snarls, looking more angry at herself than anyone else. “It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

Wait-

She raises her gun to my forehead.

-this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

I hear a click and a loud shot.

When I open my eyes again, I see Mary crumpled on the floor, her chest weakly moving up and down as blood leaks from her body, filling spaces it shouldn’t be. I can hardly breathe from the shock of seeing her so suddenly vulnerable.

“You...d-don’t...you didn’t…h-have a...g-gun…” she chokes out. “H-how…?”

“Sorry,” I hear a bitter voice behind her say, and suddenly John is standing there, his gun pointed straight ahead, and it all makes sense. “Not that obvious a trick.”

“John- b-but-“ I stutter out, my mouth moving, but hardly any noise coming out.

How…how did he…?

Mary groans loudly, and I move to ask him again, thinking perhaps he didn’t hear me.

“J-John…”

“You. You don’t get to speak,” John hisses, before leaning down to Mary’s side. “Mary, I can still…”

“N-no…” she says softly, obviously straining to sit up. “It’s...t-too late, John. I...I suppose...n-now I know how...Sh-Sherlock f-felt...Ah-!” She cries out in anguish and lifts a shaking hand to John’s face.

He doesn’t push her hand away. “You’re a pathetic liar, Mary. You lied to me, you shot my best friend, you- you-“ He’s practically hyperventilating with anger now, each breath harder than the next. “You killed our baby.”

Mary is eerily silent for a moment, but she nods eventually. “I d-did...John...Will...w-will it matter...i-if I say...I-I’m sorry…?”

“No,” he says honestly. His face is more pained than I have ever seen, contorted with unspoken rage and agony. “You’ve destroyed it all, Mary. I will never forgive you.”

“P-please…” she begs, clinging onto his collar with an almost frightening desperation. “I c-can’t go...n-not like this...J-John…”

“You should have thought about that…” John swallows back a sob, “...before you shot Sherlock.”

Tears stream down her pale, stricken face. “I th-think I l-loved you...o-once...d-did you ever...l-love me...J-John…?”

“Once,” he says softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not anymore. Not since Sherlock came back, I think.”

I’m silent.

What could I possibly say…?

Her face grows sadder, if that’s possible. “I...c-could never...c-compare...not t-to…him…”

“I’m not gay,” he says with a weak smile, forcing a small chuckle.

“A-and...I’m...n-not an...a-assassin…” she gasps out with a laugh, pulling harder on his coat. “I...w-would have...n-never really...k-killed you, y-you know…?”

His face is grim. “I don’t know that, Mary. Because I don’t know you at all. I- I bet...I bet your name isn’t even Mary.”

“It’s n-not,” she admits, her grip beginning to fail. “Th-that- ...wh-what I just s-said…- was a lie...I w-would have…” she coughs out, dark blood trickling from the corners of her pink lips. “I w-would h-have...I w-would...b-because I’m s-selfish…”

He nods. “I didn’t believe you, anyway.”

“I e-even...w-wanted...R-Rosamund…” Mary’s trembling hand slips from his jacket.

“Mary…”

“R-Rosamund...f-far better...th-than...Sh-Sher...Sherlock…” Her breath hitches on my name, and her face tightens with the effort. “G-goodbye...b-both of you…”

“Mary,” John breathes. “D...don’t…”

“G-go b-back to B-Baker S-Street...J-John...And Sh-Sherlock…?” She turns her head slightly to look at me. “I-I’m...s-sorry…T-take c-care...of...J...John…”

Her eyes go glassy and dull as she quietly exhales for the last time. John looks numb as uses two fingers to gently push her eyelids shut. Pressing a final kiss to her clammy forehead, he abruptly stands up and snaps his fingers. “Sherlock. Let’s go,” he says, his tone deathly quiet and clipped.

“J-John…”

“I said...let’s go. There’s nothing left for us here.”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I’ve waited too long. I should have called someone. I should have called the hospital. I can almost hear John scolding me already- ‘Why do you never call the police?’

My vision goes blurry as my legs fail me. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but then again…this night has been full of surprises. Nothing short of dangerous encounters and yet another miraculous deus-ex-machina from John Watson.

Not dead. Not yet.

“Amb- ambulance…” I whisper hoarsely, before collapsing on the floor next to Mary’s cold, limp, unmoving body.

John rushes towards me, and I get a glimpse of her pale face as my eyes flutter shut. Her lips are slightly parted, almost upturned. She seems to be finally at rest. She doesn’t deserve it, but I don’t think I could think of a better way for her to exit this world. A brutal display of karma…

…And yet…

I feel my flat expression become a weak smile.

She looks...so peaceful...almost like she’s sleeping…

The End (?)

Act One linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656892650818011136/three-acts

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

Epilogue linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/657054522939686912/three-acts

#bbc #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock #johnlock #jim moriarty #post reichenbach #mary is not good #she’s actually pretty evil #like ew #Mary sucks #lol

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adorablele · 4 years ago

Text

@riothae ♡ to my darling table leg 💞 this is to push the doyoung dream boy agenda. and also i’m sorry for not releasing this on your birthday, please accept this belated birthday gift.

☍ pairing; kim doyoung x reader ☍ genre; fluff, romance, a little bit of angst but mostly fluffy // apocalypse!au, zombie apocalypse!au, strangers to lovers!au, soulmate!au, parallel world!au ☍ word count; 4, 210 ☍ summary; you have your very own dream boy, a literal man of your dreams and he goes by the name of Kim Doyoung �� a/n; don’t be fooled by the beginning, 99.9% of this is just dialogue. also I tried my very best to avoid using the word zombies to describe the people who were affected by the virus because...yeah it has something to do with the characters mindset but i didn’t get to explore that because I wanted to focus on the romance lmao ANYWAYS PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED since this is my first ever apocalypse!au and longest fic (in general and for doyoung)

trigger warning(s); mentions of weapons, use of weapons (doyoung uses a machete, mc also uses a weapon to kill the zombies), mention of blood

This has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

“Hey!” you screamed, banging together two pots.

The growling behind you started to multiply.

You smirked, continuing to clash up more noise, “C’mere!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two rotted figures make their way towards you. The adrenaline in your veins pushed your legs to move faster. You heard the growling behind you grow louder, more shuffling of feet syncopated between your own. Out of either confidence or pure insanity―quite possibly both―you turned around to admire the hoard of creatures that you managed to gather.

Disgust swirled in your stomach. They were ugly with skin so pale that you could see the infected black veins running through their body. They snapped at you with rotted teeth, blistered lips and blood-shot eyes.

You laughed. “You’re so slow.”

Those vicious, viscera eating monsters didn’t seem to like your taunt. With inhumane twists of their bodies, they started to sprint towards you. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Still, you shouted at them and banged your pots. Your pace was already outmatched by theirs, but it didn’t help that you were walking backwards.

“Just a little closer, I know you can do it!” you cheered.

By now, more monsters have noticed the ruckus that you’ve caused and they decided they wanted to join in on the fun. That’s when you decided to continue running. You could hear their growls growing closer and closer. For a split second, there was a single drop of fear that touched your spine, or rather, a finger. Acting on instinct, you slammed the pan into the head of the intruder.

You were done for. They were catching up to you.

And yet, you kept running, faster than you’ve ever ran. Despite the fact that any one of the, probably, hundreds of virus-infected bodies were one step away from tearing you limb from limb, you laughed.

This was it. This was the end.

This was where you die.

The maniacal smirk on your face never ceased. You didn’t know how long you’d be able to run for, but you kept going. At least, you tried to until you were suddenly slammed by a body quite larger than your own. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, the buildings behind you a blur until you were pulled into an abandoned convenience store.

“Are you insane?” the stranger scowled.

One second, two, three before you gathered up your wits.

“Let go of me,” you shouted, pushing off the stranger, “and yeah, I am.”

You aimed your gun at the stranger who held his arms up in surrender.

“A thank you would be nice,” he frowned.

The tall man was dressed in tattered jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Around his wrists were newspapers bound by masking tape. He was covered in blood, dirt and grime; chapped lips and sharp eyes; black hair nestled messily on top of his head. Aside from all the cuts and bruises, you would deem him handsome. Although, that’s not of importance right now.

“What would I be thanking you for?”

“For saving you,” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t need saving.”

He scoffed, “You were about to die.”

“I’m already dead,” you muttered, “we all are.”

The stranger raised his brows, “Is that so?”

“There’s nothing to live for,” you replied.

He stared you in the eyes. “Then go back out there. Go say hello to your fanclub.”

A brief staredown occurred, his gaze challenging your own. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t walk back out there. At that moment, you wanted to see how close you could get to Death, but when it really came down to it, you didn’t want to die, not to those things anyways, and―as much as you’d like to say otherwise―most definitely not now. You were on the brink of insanity, yes, but you weren’t completely diving in head first. You also knew that deep-down, you’re relieved that he saved you.

And he knew that too.

“Don’t move!” you shouted when he started to lower his arms.

He paused and looked over to the counter, “I’m just reaching for the candy.”

You eyed the counter where a bag of food laid and followed his movements closely as he reached for the opened bag of gummy bears on the counter.

“You’re human, just like me. We’re not like those...beasts out there, but if you really want to become like them, then go ahead.” He reached for the backpack lying on the floor by the counter and slung it over his back, “I already tried saving you once, though your actions aren’t in my controls.”

He opened the back door of the grocery store and left.

Your shoulders finally relaxed. You lowered your gun, then glanced out the window at the horde of monsters that roamed around aimlessly looking for the meal that had escaped them. Those soulless creatures were easy to read, easy to know what their intentions were. You turned back to the door where the stranger walked through. Who knows what his intentions were?

Yet, you decided to follow him.

For a block or two you followed him, watching as he slashed through the creatures with his machete. Occasionally, you too, killed the monsters that made their way towards you. Eventually, he entered a building and climbed all the way to the roof.

You found him sitting at the edge, feet dangling as he stared ahead. His weapon lay next to him and his previous bag of opened gummy bears sat in his hand. You joined him by the edge, and this might be even stupider than attracting a mob of bloodthirsty fiends.

Rather than shoving you off, he offered you some gummy bears which you accepted. He didn’t turn to look at you once. In silence, the two of you observed the abandoned city in front of you. Rubbled buildings weakly stood, streets filled with crashed cars, various monsters (who were once human) lingered on the sidewalks. The prettiest of all the ruins was the sky. A toxic mix of orange hues. Shapes of clouds filled the sky, providing no rain and no shade. The Sun was half over the horizon. It sent out constant waves of warmth.

“I’m Doyoung,” he whispered, as if it were sacred to share his name. He turned to you, eyes vulnerable, a soft brown like the fresh soil used to plant a flower, “Kim Doyoung.”

You gasped out your name as you woke up.

You sat up in your bed, dazed from the dream. Or, was it a dream? Panic slowly tickled your spine and you immediately turned on the news, phone dialing with numbers of your loved ones.

After constant reassurances from your friends and family, you slumped on the couch. It was all just a dream. It was just a dream! You shook your head and went to wash your face in the bathroom. It was just a dream. A dream that you vividly remember.

A dream with Kim Doyoung.

For the next few months―each month―you had one overly vivid dream that included Kim Doyoung and the apocalyptic, orange skied world. It mostly consisted of the two of you running around in empty fields, abandoned cities and hacking away at monsters. In many ways, it was you and Doyoung against the world.

“Any updates on dream boy?” Kara, your best friend, smiled, sitting at the bar-counter of the diner you worked at.

You placed her usual order of coffee in front of her. “You’re still calling him that?”

“Well, isn’t he?” she shrugged.

“Yeah…”

She smiled, “Any updates?”

Your heart thumped slightly at the question, the memory of the dream you had this morning resurfacing.

The squelch of flesh echoed against the walls of the room as you and Doyoung explored the bakery.

“Believe it or not, I was a baker,” he shared, slashing at a crazed waitress

“A baker?” you asked, raising your brows, quickly opening the door to the kitchen area. Running towards you was a murderous customer who, you assumed, didn’t receive the food they wanted. After taking care of the virused creature, you frowned at the disemboweled chef on the floor, “Should we bake in this kitchen?”

“Do you want to?”

“Not with this on the floor,” you mumbled with a pout, “I thought we finally found a place!”

He shrugged, “Let’s just move the body.”

Together, the two of you, while trying not to gag, dragged away all the dead bodies in the kitchen and tossed them out. After another check around the bakery, the two of you barricaded the windows and doors, also checking through them to make sure no more rotted mouths were running towards you.

Once all safety precautions were taken care of, Doyoung took out a container of sanitary wipes.

You snorted, “Are you really going to clean?”

“I told you, I was a baker, and in order to cook or bake, you need a clean area.”

You didn’t say anything, only smiling in amusement as he started to wipe the counter.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” he asked.

Your smile turned upside down as you saw the dusty counter, bloodied floors and molded dishes. “Do I have to?”

Doyoung threw the container of sanitary wipes at you. You caught it with a grumble. After a good three hours, the kitchen was finally clean enough for Doyoung’s standards.

“I can’t believe you wanted to clean on your birthday. We could’ve just grabbed one of the pastries or gotten a cake from another place,” you sighed.

“Well, if we did that, then you wouldn’t make me a cake.”

“Aren’t you the baker?” You countered.

“Yep!” he leaned against the counter, “but you’re the one who promised to make me a cake.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, dragging your feet as you made your way over to the pantry.

Somehow, you managed to follow the recipe that you tore from a cookbook and not burn down the entire building. You grabbed the cake from the counter, “Let’s hope you enjoy this, Mr. I’m-a-baker-so-I’m-going-to-give-your-novice-attempt-at-a-cake-a-rating-out-of-ten.”

“Just an FYI, I had my own bakery,” he proudly added.

“Showing off now, I see,” you chuckled, placing a one tier cake with a very messily and unnecessarily large ‘Happy Birthday Doyou’ written on it. “I ran out of space for your name,” you explained as you added a candle, “but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“2 points off,” Doyoung called out, “didn’t complete your decorations, y/n? Not good.”

“No mercy, huh?” you tsked, lighting up the candle, “not even one point for the effort?”

He shrugged.

“Guess I’ll just have to impress you with my singing skills,” you sighed.

Doyoung watched with amused eyes, “You can try.”

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Arden- ”

“Minus another two points.”

Your jaw dropped, “What, I totally was hitting that high note!”

Doyoung shook his head, “First off, no. Secondly, who even is Arden.”

“Don’t know, maybe it was a classmate of mine whose birthday just happens to be today,” you shrugged.

He raised a brow.

”Look, I just wanted to say a random name other than yours.”

“Another point off.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Insulting the judge,” he shook his head, holding back a smile, “another point.”

“Doyoung!” you whined.

He laughed, “Okay, okay. I’ll give back two points if it tastes good.”

“Four if it blows you away,” you bargained.

“Deal.”

Although you watched with a confident smile, your heart pumped nervously in your chest. You weren’t the best cook, nor baker, so you knew that there was a chance that the cake wouldn’t taste that good. And you were right.

Doyoung’s face twisted into a sour expression.

“It’s…”

“Just say it,” you sighed, “don’t hold back.”

“Horrible.”

You sighed and sat down next to him. You took a piece of the cake to taste. Upon the abomination you called a cake landed on your tastebuds, you realized that you deserved a final rating of -54325/10.

“This tastes like…very salty sand,” you gagged, “did I forget the sugar or something?”

Doyoung got up from his seat and analyzed your ingredients. “My love, I think you did.” He then placed the bag of what you thought was sugar in front of you.

“It’s salt?!”

Needless to say, Doyoung saved his own birthday cake by making one himself. You insisted that you should help which, reflecting back on it, you weren’t sure was a good idea or not. Multiple times, you got distracted by the way the dim lights of the kitchen seemed to highlight his face, or the way it felt too comfortable with his hand over yours when he would teach you how to do something. It left your stomach flipping, palms a little sweaty, and your heart ready to burst out of your chest.

“And it’s done!” he smiled, finding the last flower decoration on the cake.

It was clear who decorated what.

All the orderly placed strawberries, raspberries and blackberries, along with the prettily swirled flowers and legible font were obviously Doyoung’s expertise whereas the little random patches of unevenly placed blueberries and poorly attempted flowers that ended up looking like dots were your humbly added touches.

“Wait, I want to add one last thing,” you told him.

You took the piping bag full of royal icing from him and started to shakily draw on the corner of the cake.

“Is that...a bunny?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you concentrated, “Yep.”

“Why a bunny?”

“You look like a bunny when you smile,” you nonchalantly confessed.

Doyoung didn’t say anything.

“Alright!” you smiled, proud of the animal that you drew. You turned to Doyoung who you were surprised to see already looking at you. “Doyoung?”

He looked towards the cake and cleared his throat, “You uhm, you ready to sing?”

“I thought we were just going to eat it?”

“Oh…”

“Well, I mean, unless you want to hear my amazing vocal-”

“Let’s just eat,” he grimaced.

You laughed, taking a knife and slicing a piece. You offered for him to take the first bite.

“No, no, you taste it.”

“You’re the birthday boy,” you countered.

“And as the birthday boy, I want you to take the first bite.”

You frowned, “Pulled that one on me, huh?”

He only gave you the bunny smile that made your knees weak.

“Fine,” you grumbled, taking a bite of the cake. It tasted a thousand times better than the cake that you made. “Oh my- This is really good! You need to try it.”

You didn’t get a chance to fully give Doyoung a piece of cake because he gently cupped your jaw, turning your chin to face him.

“I think I’ll try it now.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you. It was quick, unexpected on both sides of the party. That didn’t stop him from kissing you a second time though. This time, it was less hesitant and a little longer. He pulled away, yet again.

The two of you took time staring into each other’s eyes. His thumb rubbed against your cheek.

“You’re absolutely breath-taking,” he confessed.

You smiled, “Doyoung…”

“Completely stunning,” he whispered, leaning closer.

Your eyes started fluttering close as you muttered his name.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Kara’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Oooo someone did have a dream.”

Your face felt hot.

“Someone had a dream?” Felix asked curiously. He took the seat next to Kara and placed a plate full of waffles in between the three of you.

Kara stuffed a piece in her mouth, “Dream boy strikesh ahjain.”

“What?” you mused.

She swallowed her food. “I said, dream boy strikes again,” Kara smiled, “perhaps, a little something happened?”

“Maybe a little something.”

“Like…” Felix trailed off.

“Like… a kiss.”

“You kissed him?!” your friends both exclaimed.

Luckily, at the early hour of 6 in the morning, the diner was always empty except for the three of you. You rolled your eyes. “So what, we kissed,” you shrugged, “it’s just a dream.”

“Y/N,” Felix sighed in an exasperated tone, “it’s not just any dream-”

“It’s a dream with your dream boy!” Kara finished.

“He could be your soulmate!” Felix gasped, “What if he’s having dreams like this too!”

“C’mon,” you gave your best friend a look of disbelief, “he’s not even real.”

“You don’t know that,” Kara told you, “there are people out there named Kim Doyoung.”

Felix tilted his head and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “You know, his name does sound pretty familiar.”

You shook your head, “You guys are crazy.”

They continued to converse about people named Doyoung and possible suitors for you which you ignored and, instead, focused on continuing to wipe down the counter. The door to the diner then jingled as a customer stepped in.

“Welcome in!” you greeted, still not looking up from the counter. Not hearing a response from the customer, you looked up. The rag in your hand dropped onto the counter. At your reaction, your friends stopped talking.

Doyoung.

The man dressed in all black that stood at the door, smiled slightly, “Hello.”

You felt the eyes of your friends.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, “Oh uh, hi. Sit where you want.”

He nodded before making his way towards a corner table.

“Looks like someone likes-” Kara started, but you interrupted her.

“It’s him,” you told them quietly.

“He’s the man of your-” they both exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you hissed before they could finish their sentence.

They both glanced over at the man looking out the window before turning back to you with wide grins.

“He’s the man of your dreams?” they both asked excitedly.

“You two are unbelievable,” you mumbled, taking a menu and walking over to the man.

“Here’s your menu. My name is y/n, I’ll be serving you today. Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you smiled.

When Doyoung, or the man that looked like Doyoung, heard your name, you could’ve sworn that his eyes widened slightly, but you shook off the thought and left when he mutely nodded his head at you.

“It’s dream boy,” Kara immediately said once you returned back to the counter.

You shook your head in disbelief, looking over at him before back to Kara. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Felix quietly whispered.

“Just because it looks like him doesn’t mean it is him! He’s just a dream,” you nodded over at Doyoung, “that guy, he’s real.”

While you bickered quietly with your friends, Doyoung spared another glance your way. It was odd seeing you in normal clothing, ones that weren’t tattered or bloodied. You weren’t holding your usual weapon, and you most definitely weren’t bashing heads. Though, he couldn’t help but admire you in the same way he had in his dreams.

“Completely stunning,” he mumbled.

When you dropped the rag, he was sure that you recognized him; recognized him as the Kim Doyoung from NCT. When your friends kept whispering and looking back at him, he knew that, not only you, but also your friends knew who he was. Doyoung turned back to the menu.

He doubted you knew had the same dreams as him. He did feel a bit awkward considering the fact that he dreamt of kissing you without knowing that you were an actual person. Maybe he should leave? After all, he was hoping to come to this diner because it was relatively empty, and he just hoped that the people in here wouldn’t know him.

He glanced once more over to the counter where your friends quickly turned their gaze away from him.

“Guys, he’s looking over here,” you muttered, “you’re making him feel uncomfortable.”

“You’re right,” Felix mumbled, “we can’t destroy your chances at dating dream boy.”

Kara nodded, “Yes, we’ll leave.”

“What?” you exclaimed, a bit louder than intended. Lowering your voice, you sent a panicked glance at your friends who were packing up, “Where are you going?”

“Well, I have to go to work now,” Kara sighed loudly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “I’m going to get going.”

Felix followed Kara’s lead and stood up, “Yeah, I have to go walk my cat.”

Before you could process that Felix doesn’t have a cat, they were out the door, leaving you alone, in the diner, at approximately 6:37 AM with a boy that―just this morning―you dreamt of kissing. Your face felt heated again.

Shaking your head, you looked over at Doyoung who was analyzing the menu.

For the first time, you could clearly see him. His hair matched the color of his black long-sleeve turtleneck that was tucked into some black jeans. No blood, no dirt, no machete, just him. Just him and the highlight of the Sun on his cheeks. That reminded you of the dream you had and you shook away the daze, turning your attention to the very interesting tile of the counter that looked like it needed some serious scrubbing (not really).

“I’m ready to order,” Doyoung softly called out.

You quickly walked over to him, jotted down his order, then ran away to hide in the kitchen. Your body worked on auto-pilot as you prepared his meal. With his drink and food in hand, you started to walk back towards his table. Doyoung was staring out the window and he was humming.

As you got closer, you realized that you knew that song.

“Do you remember what the stars looked like?”

In the middle of an empty grass field, you laid with Doyoung. Your head was rested on his chest, and you felt his voice vibrate throughout his chest.

“Yeah,” you told him, “they look like your eyes.”

You could feel Doyoung roll his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

He chuckled and brushed his fingers through your hair. “Did you ever stare at the stars and see everything you wanted? Did you ever see your ambitions? Your achievements?”

“Getting deep here, aren’t we?”

Doyoung sat up, “Have you?”

You stared at him for a moment before turning to the endless orange sky. The Sun never seemed to move from its place over the horizon.

“Yeah, I have.”

A pause of silence.

“When I looked up at the stars, I saw my future. I saw the plans I had, the answers to my problems, I saw hope. However...” you smiled sadly at the orange hues, “they all went up in flames.”

Doyoung placed his hand on yours.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get that deep,” you crookedly smiled, but Doyoung only pulled you into a hug. And the two of you stayed like that for a while.

“What did you see?” you asked when the two of you were back to laying on the floor.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Me on stage, singing.”

“Singing?”

He sighed, “Yep. It was nothing more than a hobby, but my grandmother would tell me that I was a singer in some other life. She told me that if I looked at the stars, they would show me.”

You chuckled, “Kim Doyoung, a singer.”

“I’m sharing a heart-touching story and you’re laughing.”

“Sorry,” you gave his knuckle a kiss, “it’s my coping mechanism.”

He intertwined his hand with yours, “I’m just kidding, but is seeing me as a singer that funny?”

You shrugged, “A bit hard to believe.”

“Really?” he asked, sitting up, untangling your hands.

“A little,” you admitted.

He stood up and lent you a hand. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, taking his offer.

The two of you were back to traversing through empty fields and abandoned streets (fighting zombies along the way) until you stopped in front of a music store. Ripped posters hung from the window, a broken open sign dangled from the door, and a few savage creatures were lingering inside. Using the power of teamwork, you and Doyoung were finally able to do what you pleased.

“So why’d you bring me here?”

He sat a keyboard, “I’m going to play for you.”

“Doyoung, that’s going to attract a lot of noise,” you peeked through the boarded windows, “is this really a good idea?”

“Aren’t you five kills behind me?” Doyoung asked.

The competitive side of you perked at the mention of your kill counter. You were reminded of the little daily game that you and Doyoung decided to play. It was simply just to see who could kill the most virus-infected barbarians you could in a day.

But, your smarter side still worried about safety.

“I’ll sing you two lines,” he told you, “just two lines.”

“Fine,” you sighed.

“This is an original, by the way.”

“Wow, an original song,” you teased, “just for me.”

He winked, “Of course.”

“What’s it called?”

“Lost Souls,” you mumbled, “the song is called Lost Souls.”

“You’re actually my dream boy,” you blurted.

“What?”

You awkwardly placed his food down on the table, along with his drink, “Uhm-”

Outside the window behind him, you could’ve sworn you saw the setting change and a creature run head first into the window. You gasped as Doyoung quickly turned towards the noise. “The apocalypse,” he mumbled.

Slowly, the blue sky started to change. “Orange skies,” you announced.

The tables were rusted, chairs torn, walls peeling. “Empty buildings,” he added.

Doyoung turned to face you, the same warm eyes as in your dreams staring right into your own. A certain dream resurfaced.

You looked at the familiar looking convenience store, “Is this the building where we met?”

Doyoung didn’t answer you, only saying, “I hope you like watermelon ring pops.”

“What?” you laughed, watching as he reappeared from between the aisles.

He stood in front of you, unwrapping the watermelon ring pop. He then bent down on one knee.

“Just you and I?” he asked.

“Against the world.”

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Antoni: The Job

In another universe, Antoni took out Mr. Davies - and set himself up as a talented, discreet hitman-for-hire. His latest assignment takes an unexpected turn. Features @comfy-whumpee‘s Jax Gallagher, used with permission.

CW: Intimate whumper, character death, severe trauma dissoci@tion, noncon touch, noncon kissing, implied noncon (interrupted), referenced noncon, long-term captivity, conditioned response

---

Antoni watches through the scope as the target's husband gives her a kiss, a faint smile, places the drink in her hand. Through his earpiece, he hears her voice, low and sultry, as their fingers brush. “Come sit with me.”

The husband moves like a man pulled by someone else’s invisible strings, sitting next to her on the chaise, letting her turn his head with the barest brush of fingers over his chin. She pulls him in for a kiss.

Antoni’s well-hidden, and not worried they'll see him, finger hovering over the trigger. They’re lined up perfectly like this. He could kill them both, one-two shot, drop the target before her husband’s body even hits the floor.

Something in the way the husband moves, though, stops him.

He bugged the house two days ago - or rather, he has the existing bugs feeding into his own earpiece now, the target’s own obsessive need for total control and security turned against her. The cameras are off, he took remote control of those and switched those screens to black.

He wonders if the husband knows about all the cameras, or if Savannah Marcoset had them placed without his knowledge. Maybe she’s worried about infidelity. Maybe she’s suspicious about assassination.

If she is, he hasn’t heard her say anything about it.

He's listened to them for two days while he planned the kill. Antoni has been privy to every gentle I love you, every moment they spend together, more than a few moments he would rather not have heard at all.

The husband is to all appearances utterly devoted, entirely in love, and…

Something isn't right.

He needs to pull the trigger and finish the job - his client specifically wants them both out of the picture. If she goes, he goes. They’ll be together, they’re never apart, but I can’t have any witnesses who can be questioned after the bitch is dead.

Too great a chance of retaliation by the family, and the client was sure the husband would be little more than a liability. Antoni doesn’t like liabilities, and he doesn’t leave witnesses.

Still… his instincts are screaming at him not to drop the husband, too.

He hesitates, equivocates, waits far too long as the woman downs her drink and lays back, laughing softly, pulling her husband down on the chaise with her. Her dress, a flimsy, filmy thing she wore to the gala they have just returned from, drapes just so against the velvet fabric of the chaise. Her husband’s suit is perfectly tailored, and she undoes his jacket buttons with one hand while they kiss, her other hand behind his neck, tangled in his brown hair.

She murmurs something even the bugs don’t pick up, and laughs. The husband smiles back, and drops his head, kissing along the column of her neck, pale and draped in heavy jewels that contrast with how thin her dress is. She hums, tightens her fingers against his nape, arches her back to press against him.

He makes a sound, an exhale with just a touch of voice, and an alarm goes off inside Antoni’s head, one that stubbornly refuses to explain itself.

Antoni can’t figure out what he’s missing here, crouched up at the railing of the stairs with his rifle still aimed, watching as she slides the jacket off her husband’s shoulders, nips playfully at his lips, his nose, his chin.

“I love you,” She whispers against his lips, and even from here Antoni can see his responding shiver.

“I love you, too.” His voice is low and soft, barely audible. The hand at his neck pushes his head down towards her chest, her other making quick work now of the buttons on his crisp white shirt. She rolls her hips up against his, her hair a waterfall of shimmering dark brown, nearly black, curls and waves. She looks like a Renaissance painting.

They look like a portrait of two people madly in love.

“Do you want me?” She asks, in a tone that says she already knows the answer, head tilted to watch him, hand slipping into the open front of his shirt to run down his stomach. He exhales loud enough for the bugs to pick it up and translate the sound into Antoni’s earpiece.

“Of course.” The husband’s accent is faded, but there - English, fits with what Antoni saw in the description of the assignments, his research files. “Of course I do, Savvie.”

Finger still hovering millimeters from the trigger, Antoni thinks over his files again.

Savannah Marcoset, queenpin of a human trafficking empire.

Run by her father's family until her paternal uncle's sudden death by car accident six years ago, shortly after Savannah married her longtime partner.

Savannah Marcoset, a violin prodigy that burned out young and faded away from the spotlight, reclusive until she took control of the family business, now a sparkling socialite. Married to one Jackson Marcoset, neé Gallagher, UK resident by birth. Unclear how they met or became romantically involved. Estranged from family.

Something is wrong about this picture.

“Of course I want you,” The husband says, in a low voice that could very nearly have passed for desirous. “I always want you.”

Antoni knows, all at once, exactly what his intuition is trying to tell him.

Jax Marcoset is just like Chris, and he has been like Chris for a very long time.

Antoni makes the decision in an instant, following his instincts where they lead him. When Savannah Marcoset hikes up the skirt on her dress and pushes her husband’s head down between her legs, Antoni aims and fires in a single silenced shot.

Savvie’s body jerks as the bullet goes right between her eyes.

The husband looks up, staring blankly, then scrambles back in belated panic as he sees the single small hole in her forehead, empty glazed eyes. “S-Savvie? Savvie, what-... what’s-”

“Hands in the air,” Antoni calls out, pitching his voice low and authoritative, standing slowly and keeping his rifle aimed just in case he’s called this wrong, in case the husband will attack him or try to call for help. “Move away from the body, Jackson Marcoset, now.”

The husband pushes slowly to his feet, hands up, standing in his suit pants and unbuttoned shirt. Antoni can hear his heavy breathing through the earpiece, echoed faintly even across the room into his other ear. He turns, very slowly, to look up at Antoni-

And the soft, supple black leather collar buckled tightly around his neck is suddenly visible, no longer hidden by the high neck of his shirt, the bow tie he’d been wearing when they came home.

I was right, Antoni thinks, a lick of violent triumph running up his spine. I was right, he’s like us, I was right.

He keeps the gun trained on Jax Marcoset, anyway, walking slowly towards him down the stairs, each foot placed carefully, one by one. Neither of them speaks, although Antoni catches Jax Marcoset looking over at the body of his late wife, hands fallen limp to the side now, skirt still hiked high up on her thighs. It’s indecent, really - Antoni tells himself to pull her dress back down before he leaves.

He tries to give the bodies a little dignity - after all, every death since the first one has been strictly business and nothing more.

He left so little of Mr. Davies.

He’s tried to improve on that, ever since.

“Are you going to be a problem?” He asks, keeping his voice level, his accent smoothing off his vowels, sharpening the consonants. He reaches the landing at the bottom of the grand staircase in the entryway, rifle aimed through a large open doorway into the sitting room where the chaise was, right at center mass. “If you are a problem, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Jax Marcoset seems to struggle to speak, or operate on a delay. For a beat there is a weighty silence, and then he says, just barely audible, “I won’t… be a problem.”

Antoni can see scars that run down his stomach, like he was clawed until he bled, again and again, to make them. The collar, the way the husband isn’t looking back at his dead wife any longer, wholly focused on Antoni, shifting submissiveness trained by violence and fear immediately to the next threat, to appease, placate, and hopefully survive.

It’s all familiar, sickeningly so.

It’s the way Chris acted, when they met. Antoni’s assignment then had been to take out a household of drug runners. He’d found Chris in the alleyway bartering a place to sleep, trading his body because he had nothing else to offer them. Antoni had started firing just after hearing them agree to the trade, but only if Chris would take them all at once.

Once they were all dead, Chris - terrified and teary - had started trying to trade himself to Antoni just to keep from being slaughtered.

It’s all exactly the same, no matter the differences on the surface.

“I cannot leave you here alive. Do you understand?” He expects fear, or begging. Some kind of plea. But all Jax Marcoset does is slowly nod, hands still held in the air, and stay right where he is. He doesn’t ask to be spared, or for one more goodbye to the dead woman six feet away. He doesn’t beg, or go to his knees, or do anything at all.

He looks exhausted, emptied of all feeling, incapable of bringing anything up but resigned certainty. “Yes, sir.”

Too far gone, maybe.

But Antoni has to try.

“You may lower your hands.”

Jax’s hands drop like weights, down to his sides, where his fingers curl into fists. Antoni knows, from his own experience, that if he were to tell Jax to show him his palms, he would be obeyed, and there would be a row of half-moon scars there.

Just like Antoni has.

He lowers the rifle, slowly, ready to aim and fire again if Jax moves, but he doesn’t. Just stares dully at Antoni, waiting for whatever happens next, utterly incapable of making a choice for himself. Antoni moves over to Savannah Marcoset’s body, pressing two fingers to where her pulse would be and finding none. Not that he expected her to survive a direct shot to the head, but you never know.

He pulls a wipe from one pocket and wipes what might have been left of his fingerprints from her neck, then turns.

Jax Marcoset hasn’t moved a single muscle except to turn his head to watch Antoni’s movements around the room.

Antoni hums - job done, more or less, and no one needs to be the wiser that he’s left one of the targets alive - and turns to leave. He pauses, and gestures. “Come on, then,” He says, and Jax Marcoset falls in beside him, almost jerking into motion like a puppy trying to find someone new to hold his leash.

The night is dark and silent except for the crunching of Antoni’s shoes on gravel, and even that is barely a whisper of sound. Moonlight glints off the platinum wedding ring Jax Marcoset wears, off the matching lip ring and ear piercings. It briefly illuminates the buckle of the collar at the back of his neck, his eyes focused firmly on the ground in front of him, never looking up.

Antoni’s car is hidden, of course, and it takes them some time to walk there in silence. He keeps expecting Jax to ask a question, or cry, or do anything. But all Jax does is remain perfectly quiet, pliant, and empty.

He slips off his shirt willingly enough when they reach the car, lips thinned a little, and looks maybe mildly, just barely, surprised when Antoni hands him his spare shirt to put on instead. Their hands brush and Antoni feels the telltale roughness and scarring he expected.

Through it all, his intuition whispers, he’s like Chris, and he needs help.

Once they’re in the car, driving down a small two-lane highway, cutting through the late-night darkness, Antoni says quietly, “You are coming home with me. I cannot have you questioned, or have you speak to police. You will stay with me for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jax mumbles, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. He hasn’t tried to remove his collar or his ring, and Antoni knows how hard taking off your collar the first time can be for someone like them, and he doesn’t ask.

Instead, he offers, “Would you like to choose a station on the radio?”

There’s a long silence, Antoni aware he is being studied, Jax Marcoset watching him with utmost care, deciding what he will do or say. What he wants, Antoni thinks. Appease, placate, survive. It’s all the same, in the end. Even though he noticed Jax has no barcode when he changed shirts. If Jax is a pet, he isn’t a legal one and likely never was.

Jax slowly moves his hand, hesitating before he touches the dial as though he thinks his fingers will be slapped away. He changes the station, scanning until he reaches 90.1 FM.

Classical music drifts from the speakers, and Jax pulls his hand back quickly, folding them back in his lap, and closes his eyes.

“Will you miss her?” Antoni asks.

“Yes, sir.” His voice is barely audible, underscored and nearly overwhelmed by the sound of a single violin.

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crystalessenceswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Shadows- Chapter Five

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] Cross-posted to AO3

Din’s head is spinning and he’s certain it’s not from the blow Qin landed earlier. Half-bloods? Cryptos? Slayers who hunt them? How had his people not stumbled upon this before now? Generations of Mandalorian warriors had fought and given their lives to protect humans from the monsters lurking in dark corners, yet there was a whole system they had missed. A whole kind of people they had not known were possible.

That would explain why he had such trouble determining what (Y/N) was. If she was a half-blood it would make sense she appeared more human than the typical monster masquerading as such. That did not make her human though. She was still one of them. Din could not let himself forget that.

Silently he watches her finish up with the burning body. It seems routine to her. She’s also well prepared, the thistles and the gas, not to mention armed to the teeth. Following their previous encounters, the last thing Din was expecting her to be carrying was a firearm. Yet she’d managed to stun a vampire with one shot. She knew what she was doing. If there were more slayers half as skilled as her how had they gone under the radar all this time?

And why hadn’t she tried to kill him?

It kept playing over and over again in his mind. That night at the dive bar her companion was more than hostile. She had sounded more than willing to get rid of him. But (Y/N) defused it. Both opportunities she’d had to kill him, she’d ignored. Instead, she had explained herself, given him insight into what she was. She wanted him to understand her. More than once she had compared what they both did- claimed they were both protecting humans. Could he believe that? Could he believe her? Believe someone who wasn’t human?

She looks up at him, eyes soft despite the fact she has a vampire’s body burning to ash at her feet. Deadly and yet she looks so normal in that moment. “Do you…uh, need any of him to take back?”

The confusion must be plain as day on his face as the corner of her lips quirk up.

“We have to bring something back as proof of death,” she explains, “I take it you guys don’t need that?”

“No.”

That explains all her supplies then. It also goes to show how organized this group is, tracking their kills, bounties, and all under the radar of his people. Din tries to ignore how impressed he is by it all.

The innate weakness vampires hold to fire means their bodies breakdown to ash considerably quicker and at lower temperature than a human body. It’s not long till Qin is just a pile of dust on the warehouse floor. He watches in mild curiosity as the slayer collects some of the ashes into a spare jar before scattering the rest with her boot. The bloodsucker would not be bothering anyone again.

(Y/N) shifts from foot to foot, watching him closely. “So…all good?”

They shouldn’t be. He should not be letting her leave a third time- it went against every bit of training they’d drilled into him- but she stepped in to help him. He couldn’t kill her after she’d done that. Or after all she had told him. That would make him just as much a monster.

Her shoulders relax as he nods. For a moment it looks like there’s another question hanging on the tip of her tongue, but she decides against it. She shoots him a small smile as she walks away, disappearing back into the darkness of the warehouse.

Din wonders what the fuck he’s doing as he lets her go.

Even after a quick stop at the covert infirmary on his way back Din still finds himself plagued by the events of the day. He kicks himself for letting her walk away, but the thought of killing her is almost revolting. Was it because he knew that some part, no matter how small, of her was human? Because she had helped him? Or because it was her?

Excited squeals pull him from his spiraling thoughts the moment he opens the front door. In seconds the wide-eyed ball of four-year-old energy has barreled up to him, chubby hands clinging to his pant leg for dear life.

“Hey, kid. Good to see you too.”

Din gets a toothy smile in return before he runs back off again to return to what looks like coloring at the dining table with Kuiil.

“He has grown very attached to you, these last few months.”

Din cannot disagree with Kuiil, the kid was quick to latch onto him when he returned home from his hunts and often would not go to bed at night unless he was there to say goodnight.

“Will you take him as your foundling?” The old man has been asking him that since the day he brought the young child back to the covert.

“We’re still looking for his family. There must be people out there who miss him.”

Kuiil continues to watch the child, a soft hum falling from underneath his thick beard. Din can see the wheels turning in the old man’s mind. He always had an air of wisdom about him, an air that led one to believe that deep down Kuiil did hold all the answers, if only he could uncover them. Even Armorer came to the man for advice. While he was not a Mandalorian, he was a friend of the covert and had been with them for several years now. He often helped look after the kid when Din was out hunting, and he wasn’t in class in the other foundlings.

“Maybe so, but he is here now, in your care. You have a choice to make, now or in the future. But you still must make one.”

Din agrees with a sigh, collapsing into the seat next to the kid, watching his grubby hands drag crayons across his coloring book.

“How was the hunt?”

“It was a success.”

“But?” Not only wise, but he was a perceptive old man.

“The slayer appeared again.”

“And I take it she left this encounter alive again?”

Din nods, his face solemn as Kuiil continues to help the child with his coloring.

“Did you learn anything new?”

He had almost learned more than he wanted to. “She claims to be a half-blood.”

“Half-human? Is that why you could not harm her?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“She has shaken you- you don’t know what to do with this new information.” The old man speaks as if it is an already known fact. Din would be remiss to say he was wrong. Knowing this now, he sees her both as a monster and a human, both someone he is sworn to destroy and sworn to protect by his creed.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“That she is half-human or that you are conflicted?”

Din scoffs, “both.”

“They have existed here as long as we have, among us in the most cases. It should not be a surprise that we have crossed paths before,” Kuiil shrugs, “the situation of her birth probably gives her advantages in her work.”

If she could blend in with both sides it would allow her to keep a lower profile. He could not even determine what species she was, that was proof enough she did not struggle to blend in with humans. She wore her mask well.

“As for your creed… that is another decision you’ll have to make for yourself.”

Kuiil’s wise words rattle around in his skull as he watches the kid totter around in the garden, arms outstretched as he chases another frog around. If their running track record meant anything he would run into her again, and he would have to make a choice. He just wished the right answer would make itself known before then.

“Ba!”

Din cannot help but smile at the proud kid as he runs up, the frog in his hold out on display. He was a quick little bugger, that was for sure. “Well look at that, little hunter in training.”

“Ya!” The little one waves his hands around happily, grin spread across his chubby cheeks.

It amazes him how quickly the kid had bounced back after everything he had been through. There were days it did not even cross Din’s mind that he’d rescued the child from the monsters who kidnapped him. He was happy, got along with all the other children in the covert and did well in his classes, even with his limited verbal skills. Well adjusted, is what the doctor had said.

“Ba!” The kid reaches up, grabby hands flailing.

“Alright, alright,” Din hoists the boy up, “should we get something to eat? Besides frogs?”

“Patu!”

“And here I thought you hated vampire jobs.”

Kannan looks almost smug as he watches you finish up exchanging paperwork for the reward on your most recent kill. Rolling your eyes, you stuff the check into your bag, “wasn’t like I had much of a choice with the lists today.”

“True.”

“So, did you need something, or did you just stick around to tease me?”

Kannan scoffs, “well I was gonna ask if you wanted to catch up over food but if that’s the attitude you’re going to take…”

“Where’s your apprentice today?” The teen was attached to Kannan’s hip these days, eager to get out in the field.

“He’s got his studies today, why?”

“Then food sounds like a great idea.” It had been sometime since you’d had a real chance to catch up with your old friend. He took his roles as Ezra’s mentor seriously, so he was rather booked up these days.

Kannan shoots you a satisfied grin, “the diner on 4th?”

Your stomach nearly growls at the thought. “Please.”

“I have to agree with Kira. You are a magnet for Mandalorians- or at least this one.”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Kannan chuckles, “since when has the universe needed a reason to screw us over?”

“You’ve got a point… I just can’t get over the odds. Three times in completely unrelated spots.” It was a large city and of all the people in the world you had to keep running into.

“There hasn’t been anyone else in the office who’s run into him. Are you sure he’s not tracking you?”

“This time I stumbled onto him, there’s no way he could have orchestrated that when I picked up the job this morning.” He obviously had not been planning on your arrival. You’d spooked him good.

Kannan shakes his head, “well you are simultaneously the unluckiest and luckiest person I know. You’ve gotten away three times now.”

You preferred to think it was due more to your skills and sharp tongue than luck, but the luck certainly was not hurting.

“It still worries me he knows your face. Even if he hasn’t been tracking you up till now it doesn’t mean he won’t try in the future.”

He had a point, but nothing about your interactions with Mando up till now would you lead you to believe he would. “I’m keeping my eye out for anything suspicious. If he does try, I’ll know. Hopefully, the fact that I know what he looks like deters him from trying.”

“We can hope.”

“I also think I figured out why we haven’t been able to find his local source in the community.”

Kannan’s eyebrows shoot up, “and how did you figure that out?”

“He asked me why I hadn’t killed him yet. Mentioned something about how my job was to deal with nuisances, so therefore I must have to kill him to get him out of the way,” you explain, “there’s no way he’s working with a crypto if that’s what he thinks slayers do. After the Fett debacle everyone around here knows we can’t do a damn thing about the Mandalorians.”

“That does sound like he’s either got old, secondhand information or his informant is messing with him. But I can’t imagine if he managed to get a full blood to help him, they’d yank him around like that,” Kannan strokes his goatee, face drawn together, “yet he’s been spot on with all his kills. He tracked down someone you pulled the bounty for before you’d even gotten there.”

“Could he be working with another hunter or have another Mandalorian partner? Someone who manages surveillance while he does the hunting?”

“It would seem the only other likely answer. Have you told Boss all this yet?”

You shake your head, “no, I don’t want to get ahead of myself… and I’m not sure what kind of reaction I’ll get once he knows I’ve crossed paths with the Mando again…”

“You haven’t told him?” Kannan goes wide-eyed, “Miss. By-The-Book not reporting a run in with a hunter?”

“Sue me for being worried about the perception of it all!”

“Chill, I’m not going to rat you out, (Y/N). I just want you to make sure you’re going to be okay. That you’re thinking this through.”

“I am thinking it through, Kannan. And if something important comes from it I’ll report it to Boss, but for now I’d rather keep this to myself.”

Kannan nods, “I trust your judgement. My lips are sealed.”

“Okay, enough about me and my drama! Tell me how things have been going for you and Hera lately!”

#fic: Shadows #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #modern au #enemies to lovers #monsters and monster hunters #fanfiction #chapter five #crystalessences writes

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fanficsandthings · 4 years ago

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Through the Years, Ch. 4

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story.

Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 2.3k

Year 1, Year 2, Year 3

Year 4: Quidditch

The start of the Quidditch season was one of your favorite times of the year. It was a good way to get your mind off school work for a few hours a night while you practiced with the rest of the Slytherin team. The captain, Marcus Flint, had a strict regimen when it came to training, and the new brooms that the Malfoys had bought helped a lot.

A match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was the first match of this year’s season. For you, it was more of a contest between you and the twins over who could make the other team more irritated. It was really quite easy to make Oliver Wood mad over a game of quidditch. All you needed to do was make sure Gryffindor lost. You could let Draco and Harry do whatever they wanted, as it was best to go after the core of the Gryffindor quidditch team; their star beaters.

Looking around the pitch, you could see Fred sending a bludger towards Flint. Not caring much for your team captain, you chose not to warn him as the ball hit him right on the shoulder. It pushed Flint back, sending him spiraling in circles towards the ground, but he managed to catch himself.

You let out a laugh and shouted over to Fred, “Nice one, Weasley!”

Fred gave a thumbs up and a small wink as he turned to aim his next bludger at another one of your Slytherin teammates.

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in your left side as Marcus Flint smashed full force into you. “Stop playing for the other team and do your job! If I see you even smile at one of the Weasleys the rest of this match, you’re off the team.”

“Yeah, sure. You know there’s no one else in Slytherin who could be a better beater than me.” You rolled your eyes and took off on your broom, shouting over your shoulder at Flint, “Watch this!”

You headed straight for George, his attention elsewhere, so he had no idea that you were coming. You gained as much speed as you felt comfortable with and aimed your broom right for him. Pushing your feet up, you balanced carefully on the black handle of your broomstick. You released your hands from the handle and stood up straight, wind pushing past you. The wind felt wonderful as you leaned into it, still staring directly at George, who had yet to turn his head to notice you. As you got closer and closer, you knew your plan would work out perfectly.

“Weasley!” you called out when you were barely a few feet away from him. You kicked your feet off your broom, sending it in a small arc just below his broom as your body slammed right into his.

George let out a small groan at the impact, and you heard him mumble a few choice words at you.

You wrapped one arm around him as you felt both George and yourself start to fall towards the ground. Your other arm reached into the air, and your hand fell perfectly back onto your broomstick handle. As you dangled from your broom, you looked down at George, who was dangling from your hand.

“How’s it hanging, Georgie?” you shouted down at him over the sound of the wind rushing by.

“This is such a cheap trick!” he shouted back up at you.

“My favorite kind of trick,” you retorted back.

You made it to the other side of the quidditch pitch, still hanging from your broom before you started to get close enough to the ground to let go of him. You looked back over your shoulder to the far end of the pitch, George’s broom laying sadly on the ground. Lowering your speed a bit, you dragged George’s shoes just slightly on the grass.

“You better start running, or it’s gonna hurt like hell when I let go!” you warned him.

George glared at you with a look that’s reserved only for when he’s truly pissed off at you, but he started running nevertheless. He stumbled a little bit when you let go of his hand, but managed to catch himself. You could hear him cursing you as you flew off, but you chose to ignore whatever he might be threatening you with.

“Have a fun walk back to your broom, George.”

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

You could hear your name being called from behind you, but you ignored the two people yelling at you. You chose instead to focus your attention on your feet, trying hard not to trip over the rocks on the hill you were currently walking up. Annoyingly, you could hear the voices getting louder as the twins approached.

“Hey, will you slow down!” George called, slightly out of breath from basically running up the hill to catch up with you. You shook your head, picking up your pace a little more.

“You can’t be pissed at us every time Slytherin loses a game,” Fred said to you.

You stopped walking suddenly, causing the twins to jolt to a stop too. You whipped around, your quidditch robes flowing behind you, and pointed your finger between the two of them.

“I am not mad because Slytherin lost,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of venom. “I’m mad because you two almost killed a 12 year old boy and, in the process, almost killed me, too!”

“It’s not like we tried to kill you,” George said, “and we’ve already said we’re sorry.”

“Plus it was just Malfoy,” Fred continued. “And what about that bludger one of you bewitched!”

“I don’t care that it was ‘just Malfoy.’ He may be an annoying little prat, but he’s still a child. And that bludger was not us! I’m just as confused about that as you are.” Your arms were crossed in front of you now, and you stared down at them with irritation etched on your face. Having this conversation on a hill was probably a good idea, because it made you taller than the Weasley twins, and you felt like that gave you a slight advantage. You were sure they didn’t quite believe that Slytherin didn’t bewitch that bludger, but they knew you were telling your truth.

“You literally ran full force into me and knocked me off my broom,” George recalled.

“I caught you!” you said to him, rolling your eyes. “There are way worse tricks I could’ve pulled on you in the moment.”

“It was pretty wicked to watch,” Fred said, nudging his brother in the ribs.

“Thank you, Fred.” You gave him a smile and turned back to George. “Flint was up my ass about being friends with you two, so I needed to do something that would get him to shut up.”

“You could’ve picked the other twin to piss off,” George said in a slight mumble, crossing his arms.

You walked the few steps to stand in front of him, about even with his height now thanks to the hill.

“Maybe I just think you’re cute when you’re mad,” you said, patting his cheek. You gave him a wink and turned on your heel to head back up the hill again. Both Fred and George stayed rooted in the same spot.

“Freddie,” George said to his brother once you were out of ear shot. He watched your green quidditch robes flowing behind you, your figure getting smaller and smaller as you approached the castle. “I think I’m in love.”

Fred let out a sharp laugh, startling his brother out of his trance. “I know, George. I know.” Fred started to walk up the hill after you, leaving his brother dumbfounded in his spot.

George could feel the red on the tips of his ears and cheeks. It had been there since you softly touched his face, and he hoped to Merlin that you hadn’t noticed. Truth be told, you had noticed, but you thought it just made him that much more endearing.

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

You were sitting in the Slytherin common room, reading a book you had just picked up from the library, when you felt something brush against your leg. You looked down to see Minnie standing in front of you. She appeared to have a piece of paper stuck in her collar.

Molly Weasley had knitted a small collar for Minnie the first Christmas you had her, just a couple weeks after you and the twins had found her. Fred and George had told their mother about the cat they were now sharing with you, and they asked Molly if she could make them a collar. They said it was their way of providing some sort of care for her, as you were the one that actually looked after her. It was a simple collar, made out of yarn, that you simply tied around her neck. It was more of a friendship bracelet than a collar, you always thought, but you loved it nonetheless. Especially because Molly had made it in your house colors.

You bent down to retrieve the piece of paper from her, giving her a light scratch between the ears in the process. The paper was folded relatively neatly, your name written on it in messy writing. It was no doubt from one of the twins, or both. You unfolded it.

Did I ever truly apologize for this afternoon? I can’t remember, it was all such a mess. Well, I am truly sorry for almost killing you. Meet me just outside the Slytherin common room at sunset. Wear something warm. --George xx

Folding the paper back up, you let out a short breath and rolled your eyes. George could have any number of possible activities planned for tonight, you just hoped that none of them put you in danger. You put the note in your book to act as a bookmark. Grabbing Minnie, you headed to your dorm to get ready for whatever it was that George had planned for this evening.

Just a few short hours later you were standing just outside your common room, wearing the comfiest sweater you could find and a scarf was wrapped around your neck. A small bag hung from your shoulder. You could hear footfalls approaching from around the corner, and you hoped it was George, rather than a teacher who would scold you for being out this close to dark. The figure came around the corner, and you let out a sigh when you saw the red hair sticking out from under his knitted hat.

“George,” you said, catching his attention, “what’re we doing? You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“Only if we get caught,” he said, taking your hand. He didn’t even bother to stop walking, he just pulled you along after him. “No time to stop and chat. Snape was nearby last time I looked at the map.”

You followed close behind him, your right hand in his left. It had been almost a year since the accident with the hair dye, but you sometimes still worried about his burn. Sometimes you swore you could see a faint scar if his wrist hit the light just right. Tonight, though, you had no worries about that, too worried about the thought of being caught by a teacher. Another irrational fear, as George had told you that him and his brother had never been caught out of bed since they found this map.

You followed George, having no earthly clue where you were going. He seemed quite confident in his ability to find his way around the castle, though. A slight breeze hit you as he opened one final door, and the faint light of the setting sun illuminated both of your faces.

“Where on earth are we going, George?” you asked, praying for a real answer this time.

“Somewhere fun,” was all he said as he grabbed your hand again and pulled you out the door.

You had made it all the way to the quidditch pitch before George finally stopped walking and let go of your hand. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon now, and it would be fully set in a matter of seconds. You could see both of your brooms leaning up against the wall.

“A late night joy ride?” you asked, motioning towards the brooms.

“Something like that, yeah,” you answered you. He then pulled a small rectangular object out of his jacket pocket. “First, I wanted to give this back to you. There are a few pictures left on it. I didn’t wanna fill it up before you can go home to get them developed.”

You took the camera from him. You looked it over quickly and saw that there were still 10 pictures left on it. “Thanks George, but I can always ask my mum to owl me another one.”

You went to hand it back to him, but he denied it. “I’d like to see some pictures from your point of view too.”

You shrugged and placed the camera in your bag, taking out the gloves you had stored in there. You put them on and looked at George. “So, a late night joy ride?”

He looked between you and your brooms. “Race you to the top!” he called as he took off in a sprint.

“George,” you yelled after him as you started running too, “you know I’m faster on a broom than you are.”

“That’s why I got a head start,” he informed you, hopping on his broom. You watched him take off, heading back towards the castle.

Race you to the top, you thought to yourself. The top of the tallest tower in Hogwarts. You grabbed your broom, the black handle reflecting the light of the moon, which now shone brightly above you. You kicked off the ground as hard as you could, hoping the speed of your broom would make up for George’s head start.

George Weasley would be the death of you someday, but, to be totally honest, you didn’t really mind. You waited with pleasant expectations for that day to come.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x slytherin!reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #slytherin #slytherin reader #weasley twins #fred and george #fred and george weasley #through the years series #my writing

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purplecatghostposts · 4 years ago

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if you're still doing the writing drabble asks, could you please do frenrey and number 3?

Of course!!

—

Everyone has their limits. Human or not, there’s a point where you can’t deal with everything yourself and you need someone to lean on.

Benrey doesn’t reach his easily, but even he’s not immune. Slowly but surely, exhaustion chips away at his resolve until there’s not much left. Benrey might have certain inhuman abilities that make it take a while, but Benrey also has a habit of using those a bit too much.

And now he was running out of stamina.

Everything piled up against him. Benrey and Gordon were separated from the rest of the Science Team, a horde of soldiers had tracked them down and were now actively trying to kill them, and Benrey had died one too many times to count.

Benrey could die and come back- no big deal- but it also took a sizable amount of his energy to do. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he was now running on pure fumes.

Not that he’s gonna tell Gordon that.

The pair hide in a closet, both keeping as still as they possibly can. Outside, mixed voices of soldiers search for them, marching around a bit too close for comfort. Benrey leans against the wall, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s relying on it for support. Gordon stands a foot away from him, gun raised and fixated on the door. He doesn’t take his eyes off of it for a second.

There’s too much tension in the air. It’s suffocating Benrey, making him squirm and it takes everything in him not to say something. When the voices and footsteps of the soldiers get further and further away however, he doesn’t bother to hold it in any longer.

“Seem kinda tense there, Feetman.” Benrey whispers.

Gordon sends him a glare. “Take things seriously for once.” He hisses back. “Our lives are on the line- no, wait, just mine. Because you can’t die. God, that’s why you don’t care, isn’t it?”

“I care...” Benrey mumbles halfheartedly. He doesn’t have the energy to argue further. Gordon scoffs and that’s the end of that conversation. Unfortunately for Gordon, Benrey doesn’t intend to shut up. “Think we can get out of here? Go uh... Whatever it is you do to relax- crawl through vents like a rat? Gordon Ratman?”

Gordon has to take in a deep breath at that. Benrey snickers to himself. Gordon’s always been easy to rile up- all he has to do is spit out the first things that come to his head and Gordon sputters at him. His face always gets so red- s’cute honestly. Makes Benrey want to plant a smooch on his cheek just to see how red he can get. And perhaps for his own personal pleasure as well.

Denying Gordon was incredibly attractive to him (for multiple reasons) was something he stopped doing a long time ago.

“Do you- do you ever think before you say anything, Benrey? Do you even know what a filter is?”

Benrey gives a sharp grin. “I have never had a thought in my life.”

Gordon almost laughs. Benrey takes that as a win. “Yeah, that checks. I-”

Gordon is cut off when a soldier suddenly barges through the door, gun raised and finger on the trigger. Gordon freezes on accident, but Benrey is quicker.

Benrey doesn’t think. He does the first thing that pops into his head, and when he sees the soldier aim for Gordon, everything else is thrown out the window.

Benrey pushes Gordon out of the way. There’s a sharp pain that pierces his side and his knees buckle. Another few shots send alarm through him but when Benrey looks up, the soldier is dead on the ground and Gordon is still standing, untouched.

Gordon lowers his arm, shaking himself. “Shit. Uh, thanks for the-” he turns, eyes going impossibly big when he sees him. “B- Benrey?”

Benrey gives him a shaky grin. “Sick shootin’, Feetman.” One hand attempts to cover up the bullet wound in his side. He refuses to react, no matter how much it hurts. Benrey attempts to push himself to his feet but he wobbles, causing Gordon to reach out and steady him.

“Whoa- whoa! Jesus, slow down.”

“Psh.” Benrey waves him off with his free hand. “‘M fiiine, Feetman. Don’t get your uhhh hev suit in a twist ‘bout it.”

Benrey stumbles to his feet but his head spins. Subtly as he can, he uses the wall for support but Gordon’s gaze burns a hole into him. He notices now, eyes narrowing but not with hostility but rather determination.

“Benrey, you’ve- you’ve died a lot today.” Gordon says slowly, deliberately.

“What about it?” Benrey shrugs, hoping to brush it off and drop the conversation.

Gordon however, is nothing if not persistent. He presses harder. “You’ve been hugging the wall too. You’ve been slower too- less chatty.”

“Been missing the sound of my voice?” He forces out a laugh, even if he gets a sting of pain when he moves.

“Benrey.” His tone is deadly serious. “Are you- are you okay?”

“‘Course-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

His words are sharp, piercing right through his crumbling facade and it all comes crashing down. Benrey’s eyes fall. He doesn’t say a word and it somehow speaks volumes.

“Sit down.” Benrey blinks when he hears it. Sharp, commanding- is he using his dad voice on him? “I’m not arguing about this. Sit down.” Oh shit he totally is.

Benrey drops easily- half because of Gordon and half because his legs were barely supporting him as is. “Let me see.” Benrey lifts his hand off of his wound for a moment. His hand is coated in red, making him internally flinch.

Gordon examines it for a moment, eyebrows knitting together. “Doesn’t look fatal at least but we definitely need to get that patched up.” His eyes drift towards the door. “There should be a medkit somewhere around here... Stay right here, I’ll be back.”

Gordon leaves. Benrey feels like he’s dreaming- there’s no way Gordon is taking care of him right now.

Benrey pintches himself. He doesn’t wake up.

...Huh.

Gordon’s taking care of him and that’s... That leaves a funny feeling inside. It’s not like all the others- the obvious feeling of love burning in his chest when he gets Gordon to laugh- but rather softer. Gentle. Warm and wrapping around him and telling him everything’s going to be okay.

Benrey wants to feel like that all the time.

The sweet voice acts on its own, bits of orange and light blue leaving him but the song is different than he’s used to. More like a loud hum than anything. Colors swirl around him and Benrey relaxes his shoulders.

Benrey doesn’t question the footsteps approaching- no matter how fast they are. He doesn’t even notice the newcomer in the doorway until he hears the gunshot. He jumps, but to his surprise, the soldier that found him now lies dead on the ground. Gordon enters after him, glaring at the body.

“Don’t touch him.” He hisses. And Benrey feels a much more familiar burn in his chest that makes his cheeks burn up.

Gordon glances to Benrey. “You alright?” His gaze flickers to the sweet voice still hanging in the air and back. “What does... Orange to light blue mean?”

Orange to light blue means I’m at home with you. Benrey laughs it off. “Eh, doesn’t matter. You got the good stuff?”

“...I hate that I know exactly what you’re asking.” Gordon holds up the medkit, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, there’s some painkillers in here. You gonna stay still while I patch you up?”

“Mmm... Maybe.” Gordon sends him a flat look. “Jeez, alright, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good- the best.”

“Stop talking, you’ll distract me.” Gordon removes the bodies of the soldiers and shuts the door. He sits down by Benrey, already starting to take out bandages and painkillers. “Just relax. I actually do have medical training, I’ll take care of this.”

Benrey nods. His life is in Gordon’s hands and he has a feeling he’s got nothing to fear.

(Eventually the rest of the Science Team finds them. Gordon startles but is immediately relieved when he sees them. Benrey leans on his shoulder, fast asleep.)

—

These always turn out so much longer than I intend... Oops. Anyways, I hope you like it! Feel free to send another request! I really wanna write short things right now!

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #benrey #hlvrai gordon freeman #frenrey #SB Speaks #SB Writes #My Drabble #drabble #ask meme #ask #ask game #violence #blood #gun #gun wound #death

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stones-x-bones · 3 years ago

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One For All || Dani and Bex (ft. Kyle)

TIMING: Concurrent with this PARTIES: @surmamort @inbextween and @darkh0wl SUMMARY: While Dani and Bex hang around campus waiting for Kyle, they realize that someone else is waiting for them. CONTENT: Gun use, Suicidal ideation, Death

Bex groaned as she rifled through her bag. It wasn’t here. The one book she needed. She’d left it back in the classroom, hadn’t she? She looked sideways at Dani, who was sitting idly on the bench across from her, before back towards the building. A few moments away from her wasn’t going to hurt, right? There was no way Frank would come after her inside the school during the day, right? The common area outside was only bustling with a few other summer class kids, enjoying the sun that had been gracing the sky the last couple of days. It was unusual for this much sun this time of the year, there was usually so much more rain. Bex remembered how much rain there had been just a week ago, and how that rain had saved Mina’s life. Had saved her own life. She squinted up at it before sighing and standing up. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Dani, then added on, “I just forgot one of my books in the classroom. Promise I’ll be real quick. You can stay here and keep our spots so no one steals our prime real estate.” It was the only table that was perfectly positioned under one of the trees to lend itself full shade no matter what time of the day. She didn’t wait for much of an answer before slipping away, heading towards the school, making sure to take the most populated route possible.

What Bex didn’t know was that she wasn’t the target this time.

The two hunters had been watching them all day. They’d been told the shorter girl would be alone. Dani was her name. Frank hadn’t given them all the details, but he had told them she wasn’t human. One had a pistol with silver bullets drawn, but shook their head. Not beast. The other had an iron dagger, who also could not feel a thing. So, undead, they supposed. This would make things more difficult. Still, the two drew to the shadows as they rounded on the girl, now alone at the bench. The beast hunter, a sturdy, dark-skinned girl, aimed her gun. The first shot was a warning. The second went straight for its mark.

Dani felt as though things were falling into place. It had taken a while to feel that way, especially in regards to her moms. Their reluctance to provide more information left Dani mostly frustrated, and though she knew the gist; her father had been killed in the sake of not wanting to torture fae, she knew there was more behind those documents that the professor had sealed up. But she’d been practically barred from digging further into exactly what kind of research he’d been a part of. Though neither Jeanette or Lauren said it, she felt sure that the professor had been warned. It was a feeling rather than full of certainty, but it was there. It was getting easier to pull herself out of her thoughts of betrayal, and though the anger simmered, there were distractions. Like Bex. When her friend spoke, Dani looked over for a brief moment before dog-earing the manga she held. “Are you sure?” The hunter worried her lower lip as Bex insisted that she’d be alright. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand as her friend disappeared into the building. The brunette set her book face down and stuck one leg over the opposite side of the bench, eyes trained on the doorway for Bex to come back through.

A few moments had passed and Dani nearly missed the sound of urgent footsteps arriving from just behind her. She looked over her shoulder just in time to hear the gunshot ring. The second came fast, but Dani managed to dive to the side, the feeling of rocks scraping her palms. She got to her feet immediately, flicking her wrist to unsheathe the dagger in her hand. “What the fuck? What the fuck--” She managed to two step to the side as another shot rang. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Dani yelled as she spared a quick glance over her shoulder towards the doors. Where the hell was Bex?

It was strange, the beast hunter thought. Why would an undead need to dodge bullets? It didn’t matter, they fell in line behind their warden friend, who took out three small daggers and launched them, one after the other, at the girl. He wanted to see how nimble she might be. Dodging bullets was easy and smooth when you had super hearing or super strength. Judging by her standing in daylight, she was either a zombie, or those special types of vampires his friend had tried telling him about once. He’d had no interest in them, though, and had long since forgotten their names. He didn’t wait too much longer before charging directly at the girl. They didn’t need to say anything, they weren’t here to answer her questions. They were here to cut off her head.

Bex was taking the steps by two-- a bad idea, considering the pain in her side and her leg-- when she heard the shots echo. She’d never heard real gunshots before, but they had such a distinct sound, she knew right away. “Dani?” she said, pausing, stumbling. Gripped the railing, before whirling herself around when a second-- a third-- shot sounded. Dani was shouting, yelling at someone. Bex leapt down the stairs-- oh, bad idea-- knees buckling as she struggled to stay standing and fling herself down the hallway and back outside again. “Dani!?” she called out, watching as two shadows advanced on her. One had a gun. One had a gun. “DANI WATCH OUT!” Magic reaching beyond the distance between them, fear and anger mixing like blood and oil, volatile. It touched the sidewalk, and the bench they’d been on, and the trees as Bex ran towards the three hunters. She hadn’t expected the one with the gun to turn and fire at her. She yelped as it grazed her arm and sent her careening to the ground, hands covering her head.

The knives shot out, too, and Dani felt one slice into her forearm. She suppressed the scream that bubbled in her throat, leaving it in. She couldn’t be sure if it had hit an artery, not when she had to avoid two others. She managed to avoid being sliced by the remaining, but had little time to collect her thoughts. The hunter heard Bex before she saw her. “Go back inside!” Dani screamed back at her friend. When the hunters pushed forward, she felt fear grip her heart. What if they went after Bex? Was this why they were here? Were they witch hunters? She could tell they were hunters from the weapons they carried, but why were they coming after her? One look over her shoulder, and Dani saw Bex on the ground, blood pooling at the small injury in her arm.

It was red, the anger that the hunter felt. It prickled and vibrated in her sternum. It was hard to ignore, the way that it gripped her. Dani hated that Bex continuously got hurt, and for what? Why should her friend continue to suffer?! “Back the fuck up!” Dani shouted again, moving towards Bex who laid on the ground, arms over her head. “Did you fucking hear me?!” She shouted again as the figures continued towards her. She stood in front of Bex, guarding her with her own body. If they wanted to get to Bex, they’d have to kill her first.

The warden kept his eyes trained on the target, watching her falter when a blade sliced her arm. But, soon, she was racing to put her body between them and the girl crumpled on the ground. He hissed at his companion, “We’re not supposed to hurt anyone else!” To which the beast hunter replied-- “We don’t know what any of these people are! She could be with her, for all we know!” She holstered the gun, however, because guns did naught against the undead and she pulled out her engraved, silver dagger. It wouldn’t hurt the undead, but it was refined enough to cut a head clean off. “Let’s just get this over with before someone else shows up!” she growled, and lunged, swinging the blade in front of her. The warden followed suit, ducking in behind her, honing in on the girl on the ground. Frank hadn’t told them about Bex would be here, they didn’t know any better.

When she was sure there were no more gunshots coming her way, Bex rolled to her side and slapped her hand over the wound on her shoulder. Blood pooled over her fingers. She was so goddamn tired of bleeding everywhere, all the time. Of people thinking her life meant so little that they could just hurt her and keep hurting her and not stop. The anger that built inside of her was as red as her blood. Her teeth clenched so hard together she felt her jaw crack. A wind began to whip up in the area surrounding them. Someone was coming at her, but the ground beneath them buckled. Bex was an expert at disturbing the ground, now, whether it was intentional or not. It caved in and swallowed the boy’s foot, and he smacked into the side of the crater hard, his knife skidding a few feet away from his hand. Bex looked at him with so much hate in her eyes, he shuddered. “Leave me ALONE!” she shouted, and it reverberated in everyone around her, inside their heads. “LEAVE US ALONE!”

We’re not supposed to hurt anyone else! Dani’s brows creased. What the hell did that mean? They weren’t after Bex? Dani saw the way that the two hunters looked at her. Their gaze was not unknown. It was familiar, and she knew it like the back of her hand. They were here to do a job, and she was said job. She wasn’t sure what kind of misunderstanding could have led to them believing that she was anything that deserved hunting, but there was no time to reason with them, not when they were pushing in. One hunter was hard enough, but two? Especially one with a gun? She and her dagger were unmatched. The purpose, she knew, was not to kill them, but to keep them down long enough for them to be dealt with. She knew that, so why did she feel so much anger? Why did it course through her, spinning and spooling in the pit of her stomach, forming like electricity across her skin?

Before she could react fully to the pair of hunters, the ground beneath her began to quake. She felt it tremble, and then earth jutted up, creating a hold on one of the hunter’s feet. Dani blinked away the surprise. There wasn’t enough time to ask questions. “Bex,” Dani said, not turning around to look at her friend, “are you okay? It didn’t go through, right?” She continued to stand in front of the witch, her own dagger still drawn. The blade that had been stuck into her arm was covered in blood now. Every move she made stung. She could feel it burrowed into her flesh, but it wasn’t something she could focus on, not right now. “Why the fuck are you attacking us?” She figured they were past reasoning, but she needed to know, especially when the shock of the earth swallowing one of the hunter’s feet was so fresh, leaving a moment to wonder.

The warden struggled against the ground breaking underneath him and trying to swallow him. The other girl was a spellcaster, and that was dangerous. They needed to cut their losses or make this quick. If they could subdue the spellcaster, then they could easily take out the undead girl. His eyes flicked to his companion. “I’ll take the spellcaster, you just concentrate on the target, okay?” The beast hunter nodded and turned her gaze to the girl who had put her body between them and the spellcaster. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she didn’t need to. As a hunter, she’d learned to not ask questions. That wasn’t the way of things. If there was a monster, they killed it. The girl on the ground was screaming at them, and the undead girl was slinging questions at them. They didn’t have time for this, even as she felt her head begin to ring, blood rushing to her ears. “Why the fuck do you think, monster?” she hissed back, before jumping straight at the girl again. If she could go for the legs, cut off her ability to move, then taking her head would be easier.

It was happening again. Bex was watching again as someone she cared about was being hurt. Everyone around her always got hurt. Because of her. Because of her family, her magic, her stupid decisions. They were attacking Dani because of her. Bex scrambled to stand up. Anger was coursing through her but she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t. If she used magic, her mother would know and things would get worse. She reached for Dani, watching as the girl with the knife lunged at her. “Let’s just go!” she called out, tugging on Dani’s arm. “Please, let’s just--” but they were both lunging now. Bex let go of Dani and tried to duck, but the boy caught her off guard and tackled her to the ground, her back hitting hard. Stars blotted her vision as air left her lungs. She kicked and struggled, but he was pressing down on her neck, cutting off her air supply. She didn’t want to use magic. She couldn't, she couldn’t. She reached for Dani. Her anger reached, too. She didn’t want it anymore. She didn’t want this life anymore.

Dani balked as the girl called her a monster. What the fuck was happening? Before she could continue to ask her questions, the two hunters were bounding towards them again. The space was closing in and Dani felt her heart in her throat. Her own dagger dropped to the ground as she instinctively reached up. “NO!” Dani screamed as the boy lunged towards Bex. Dani ignored the second hunter and immediately recoiled from the blade that came her way. She punched out with her good arm, palm curved enough to catch the nose of the girl, enough to make blood begin to gush as it connected with the cartilage. Dani had to get to Bex. She turned just in time to see the boy on top of her, his hands at her throat. “BEX!” Dani screamed as she dove towards them. As soon as she connected with Bex’s touch, anger flooded her unlike before. It was red and sickly.

It made her head spin. It filled her head and she saw stars. It ran in tendrils down through to her fingertips. She itched to close her hands around his throat, to squeeze until life left him. She wanted to do to him what Frank had done to Bex, what her mothers had done to her, what this horrible fucking world had done to every single person she’d ever cared about. “NO!” Dani bellowed again, immediately ripping the blade that the girl had flung into her shoulder. Blood spurted, but not enough to make Dani worry-- not enough to make her care. But God, it hurt. It was a searing pain and it was numb, but she moved forward. She did what she did best; she ignored her pain. She swallowed it whole. All she saw was red. The blood on her hands, the red in Bex’s face. Dani reached forward without realizing what she was doing. She tackled the boy off of Bex and wrestled him to the ground. Her own blood pooled onto the two of them, swelling and dotting his white t-shirt rouge. Dani didn’t have the time to recognize the familiarity in her movements, or the way it felt wrong, or the way that the fear had reached his eyes as he realized that these would be his last moments. Dani plunged the knife down into his heart, just as she would any vampiric kill. Only he didn’t turn to dust.

Bex? Wasn’t that the name of the girl Frank had told them he was helping? Why was she here? The beast hunter faltered. Blood gushed from her nose. It was a move that cost too much. She reached for her friend. “Lucas, wait--” but it was too late. The undead girl was pouncing on him, wrenching him from the girl on the ground-- from Bex-- and her fists pummeled him and then there was a knife. “NO!” she screamed, lunging for them. But it was too late, again. The knife plunged into his chest so deep and so loud she heard bones crack and muscle tear as the blade penetrated his heart. In her fury, she tackled the other girl off him, rolling with her as fists came down. “YOU KILLED HIM!” she shouted, fighting to remove the knife from her hand. “You monster, you killed him!”

The warden gurgled blood on the ground, grasping at air, at something that wasn’t there. Bex wheezed and huffed and tried to blink away the black, tried to catch her breath, too. She heard him choking on his own blood. She rolled onto her stomach and crawled over to him, hands pressing against the wound on his chest. Whatever these two had done, however angry they had made her, she hadn’t wanted them to die. She hadn’t meant to be so angry. She hadn’t wanted Dani to kill for her. She didn’t want anyone to kill for her. “I-it’s okay,” she stuttered, but she knew it wasn’t going to be. So did he. She saw it in his face, and suddenly she didn’t see him and it saw Frank instead. He reached up to her, pushing her away. “I h-hope i-it was w-worth it,” he stuttered through blood pouring from his mouth. “W-was she, w-worth it?” Bex didn’t know what he was talking about, she couldn’t get the image of Frank out of her head. Why couldn’t she make it go away? “Tell Frank…he was wrong…” Bex shivered. “Frank? What about him? What are you--” but she knew. She knew. She was seeing Frank because he was seeing Frank. The realization set inside of Bex’s stomach like stone. Her gaze turned up to Dani, still struggling with the other hunter.

“S-stop,” she stuttered, “Stop!” she stood up from the warden, her hands covered in blood. He was dead, now. He’d died because of her. Because of Frank. Because of his delusions. She had to get to Frank before he got to Mina again. “STOP!” she shouted and her magic reached out and touched the two alive hunters’ minds and told them to stop.

The rage burned. It had made her feel as though her chest were going to concave, as if her bones would turn to ash, replaced by nothing but the red. The red on Dani’s hands, what spilled down the front of the boy’s shirt. She saw it everywhere. Even though it was still an evening blue, the sky seemingly had blistered into something sickly, too. Her hands were still around the blade that’d been thrust into the hunter’s chest, but she made no move to get off of himt. Not even when she heard the female hunter bellowing behind her. She stared down, shock and horror creeping as if a shadow down her throat, blooming and growing until it was pressed against every part of her. The fury stayed, it stayed hot and loud and Dani could barely listen to the pain in her arm, or the back of her head as she fell to the ground from the launch of the second hunter.

Dani acted as if made of mechanics, her bones and skin and blood-- it all floated before her. There was somebody on top of her and they were trying to wrestle the blade away. They were calling her a monster. What had she done? They had called her a monster before, when-- Dani blinked away the tears as she struggled against the hunter’s hold. They were stronger than her in this moment, because truthfully, Dani wasn’t sure what was left of her now. She still felt like she was floating. Until she was sinking. Until it felt like every root from every tree held her down, gripped her throat and squeezed. Until her chest felt heavy and the blisters of anger burrowed so deep that she wasn’t sure they’d ever be removed. She couldn’t turn her head, or look at Bex. She stared up at the second hunter who hovered above her, seemingly in the same hold. She tried to look at Bex, and she tried to make a noise, but all that came out was an animalistic cry as she caught sight of the boy who was dead on the ground. She could see his shirt, it was covered in blood. Bex’s hands were, too. She thought about her and Morgan’s conversation. Dani wanted to scream, to reach out, to wipe away the blood, to pool it into her hands, to make it go away. Only she couldn’t. She was frozen, forced to face what she’d done.

First, Kyle’s shower had run long. He was listening to a good playlist and he didn’t get out until the water started to run cold. And then he took forever to get dressed. He wanted to look at least a little presentable for his friends. Just a little. It wasn’t like Bex and Dani knew him to be on time, so Kyle wasn’t exactly worried when he hadn’t heard from them. They knew he’d be there. And he was! Except, when Kyle came strolling across the campus, he heard sounds of a fight or a struggle or something. He felt a pang of anxious worry flare up in his chest, but he squashed it down. It was a college campus, it was bound to happen that there was some yelling somewhere. But when he heard a shout that sounded suspiciously like Bex, that anxious feeling gripped him tight and wouldn’t let go. Kyle quickened his pace at first, trying to remain calm until he knew what was happening, but broke into a sprint as the screams continued. Like, an actual we’re fighting to the death kind of racket. He couldn’t mistake it for playful banter.

Kyle was still running at top speed when he came up on the scene; Dani was pinned beneath someone and they were both covered in blood, Bex was similarly covered in blood and it made sense it would be her own, there was a third blood soaked party, unmoving on the ground. Kyle didn’t have time to process, he didn’t have time to think more than to just breathe. He tried to run through the calming mantra he’d heard Bex whisper to herself before, but the coppery scent of blood--his friends’ blood--filled his nostrils. Before he could consider all courses of action, he was throwing himself at the person on top of Dani. He bowled into them, gripped them around the middle and sent them both rolling, end over end, sideways and off of Dani.

Bex stumbled backwards when Kyle was suddenly racing by her and tackling the other girl off of Dani. All she could think about were the images the other hunter had in his mind. Frank had sent them here, had told them to kill Dani. He had lied to them. They thought Dani was a supernatural. He was coming for her. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to kill Mina. He was going after her, first, and then he was coming for Bex. But her mind stuck on Mina. He’d already tried once, and Mina was now weaker for it. She was still recovering. But if he wasn’t here yet, that meant there was still time. She could make it to Mina in time. Bex felt her anger, her fear, her panic return to her in droves and they told her to move, to go. She didn’t say a word as she stumbled past the dead warden on the ground, she didn’t say a word as Kyle tussled with the other hunter. She didn’t say a word as Dani sat frozen on the ground. She just ran. She just had to get to Mina. Mina was the only thing that mattered now.

The beast hunter tumbled. She’d been too distracted by the image of her dead friend-- laying but five feet away from her, beating down on the monster who’d killed him-- to notice the second monster coming her way. She felt him first, glancing up just in time to watch him ram into her. They tumbled head over heels for a moment before she got her legs placed on his chest and kicked him away. He was some sort of beast, it made the hairs on her arms stand on edge. She went to pull her silver blade out, but realized she was way outnumbered, out matched. She eyed the beast, pressed low to the ground. Would he follow her or would he go to his friend? She had to hope he’d be too distracted with her. She took off away from him and towards her friend-- her dead friend. Scooped his body into her arms and looked back over her shoulder at the other two. “You’re a monster,” was all she said before she took off. She needed to get her friend back to his family. They’d want to bury the body. They’d want to know how their son died.

Every move Dani made reverberated throughout her entire body. The pain in her shoulder was more noticeable now, and even as she shifted, her arm fell limp at her side. The adrenaline, fear, and rage that coursed through her veins was still loud. It ate at her. She continued to stare ahead of her, before she was shifting her attention back to the hunter who had been knocked off of her by somebody. It had happened so fast that Dani didn’t have the time to rationalize what was happening, or figure out that Kyle was the one wrestling the second hunter to the ground. Finally, Dani managed to sit up. Everything moved slowly, and even though she knew everything was loud-- the screams that circled them from a few onlookers that managed to spill out of the school, it was all quiet. Blurred. As if she were under water. The body next to her laid eerily still. Dark eyes stared up at the sky unmoving. Dani shook her head and tried to crawl towards it, but fell short as her arm gave out from beneath her. She slumped down to the ground, her good shoulder digging into the dirt. “No, no, no, no,” Dani slurred, her voice hoarse. She hadn’t done that. That wasn’t her.

She heard a noise behind her and then somebody was stepping over her to get to the body, to the boy she had killed. The female hunter bent down and picked the boy up with ease, but not before shooting a quip her way, not before confirming what Dani had feared, that she’d been the one to do it. She hadn’t remembered the feeling of the blade in her hand, or the way it felt when she had ripped it out of her arm. Everything hurt now, it was hard to ignore. She shook her head. She was covered in blood. Her own, as well as his. “No,” Dani panicked as she tried to clamber after the hunter. “No, he’s--” She choked on her words as she attempted to get to her feet, to follow after them. She fell again, the pain shooting through her as she stumbled into her bad shoulder. Stars splintered across her vision and vibrations found their way into the soles of her feet, the palms of her hand, the back of her mouth. She felt it all, all of the red, all of the grief, the anger.

Kyle had the wind knocked out of him as he fell back from the hunter’s kick. He reeled for a moment as he tried to breathe. He looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes as she stood, his pulse pounding in his ears. He balled his hands up and clenched fistfuls of bloodsoaked earth as he willed himself to calm down. Every inch of him, every instinct, willed him to shift and not let her escape. She had done something to his friends. She had hurt Dani and Bex. The thought of his friends pulled him out of the tunnel vision he was sinking into. As the hunter retreated, he whipped his head around, eyes searching for Bex. He spotted her as she fled. As worried as he was, all he could think was how stupid it was for her to be alone now. He pulled a fist from the ground and slammed it back down. He struck the earth with all of the force of the frustration he felt. He could feel his knuckles split; hear his bones crunch on impact. He didn’t care. He needed to make sure his friends were okay, that they were alive, that Dani--Dani.

Kyle shoved himself to his feet, stumbling a moment as he forced his lungs to work properly again. Breathe, just breathe, he told himself. He rushed to Dani’s side, trying to assess what was her blood and what wasn’t, but there was so much of it. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered, though if that were directed to her or to himself, he couldn’t be sure. “Come here.” Kyle placed a hand behind Dani’s knees, and one against her upper back. “Okay, Dani, I need you to stay with me.” He’d definitely heard people say that in movies, right? That’s what you said here, right? He tried to swallow down the anxiety that held firm in the pit of his stomach. That couldn’t happen right now. He couldn’t think about losing her. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? We have to get you--,” where? Where could he take her that made sense, that would be able to take care of her, that would keep her alive? “--out of here. Can you--are you--Dani, are you human? Do you want to go to a hospital?” Fuck, what if she wasn’t human? Didn’t matter, he’d figure it out. He didn’t pause long enough for a response. He didn’t want one. “I’m gonna pick you up,” he said again, voice shakier than it was before. “One, two--”

Dani barely registered when Kyle knelt down beside her. She could still hear the screams. There’s so much blood! Somebody call an ambulance! Everything felt far away. Even as Kyle was speaking to her, she heard it through something else, as if her ears were blocked. Where was Bex? Dani tried to twist, to get away from Kyle as he picked her up, but she couldn’t move. She slumped against him as she felt herself being lifted into the air. She could see the ground moving beneath her, but she couldn’t tell why. “Bex,” Dani murmured, her voice small and broken and twisted, coming out nearly unrecognizable. “Where is she?” The hunter kept her eyes open out of fear that she’d see the dead boy. His dark eyes were burned into her vision. She felt Kyle’s arms around her. They felt wrong. She didn’t deserve comfort or care. She deserved to burn, to bleed. But she was too tired, too tired to fight it. She felt sluggish as she turned her head, forehead pressing against Kyle’s chest. How much blood had she lost? It was impossible to figure out what was hers and what was the hunter’s. She could feel the rise and fall of her chest, ever so slowly. She felt herself being shifted and suddenly she was no longer in Kyle’s arms. She was in a vehicle. She could feel the hum of the engine throughout her entire body. She stared at the door handle as she slumped against the window. She wondered if she should pull on it, let herself spill out onto the road. Instead, Dani closed her eyes.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #one for all #chatzy: dani #chatzy: kyle #suicidal ideation tw #gun tw #dani #kyle #frank

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secret-engima · 4 years ago

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Snippet of Children of Men (Not Monsters) verse

(I tried so hard to resist the urge to snippet so that I could finish this and surprise everyone, but like all my one-shots it’s getting steadily longer, so you know what? HERE. HAVE A LONG SNIPPET OF MY NEWEST BRAINCHILD.)

...

“But we know it can be done,” clicked batchmate N-iP04232 during one of their routine cleanings over the hiss of the freezing spray, “by a unit that hadn’t gotten its first upgrade even.”

Their last batchmate, N-iP04240, gave a skeptical whine, “That wasn’t because of any actions of the unit. It was stolen.”

“By a lone human.” N-iP04221 pointed out as it finished washing off the cleaning solvents and stepped out from under the spray, “If a human could manage it, then three MT units could as well. MT units are more efficient than humans. That’s why we’re produced.”

“Still…”

“We have time to think about this,” It rumbled soothingly to its third and most nervous batchmate, “We have until before the sixteenth upgrade.” That was when MT units were monitored more closely, looking for any final errors that might crop up during the final stages of training and modification —when they truly started to go quiet, and it became harder and harder to coax them into competitions and making rhythms, when they started the slow descent to death—. They had until the sixteenth upgrade at the latest to decide on a course of action. If they chose to run, the others would not stop them. It was the rule. If an incomplete unit chose to run, all the other incomplete units had to help in whatever way they could that would not get them punished afterward.

Then, only a few months after its fourteenth upgrade, after beginning to entertain thoughts of running, the lights in the hallways turned red and an alarm was announced through the entire facility. Two units from one of the new, experimental projects had escaped containment. All personnel and MT units above the thirteenth upgrade were to search and retrieve the escaped units. Alive. “Those two are the first ones in Project Dhampir to survive their first year.” N-iP04221 overheard one of the technicians whine, “And we’re out of viable samples for the indefinite future! If either of those units is lost or damaged, Besithia will have our heads!”

Oh. That was new. It was rare the head human designated Besithia took an interest in any units. The escaped units must be very specialized.

N-iP04221 searched alongside its two batchmates, but didn’t try very hard, and didn’t expect to find anything. If the escaped units were similar in template and intelligence to an MT unit, it didn’t want to help recapture them. If the units were more aggressive and taken from templates like the large, predatory wildlife that it sometimes saw outside the facility borders, it didn’t want to go anywhere near them. But just as it was hoping the escaped units had either gotten away or were in another part of the base altogether and thus were not N-iP04221’s problem, it heard a high pitched whine of pain from one of the closets containing cleaning tools and solvents. It sounded similar to a very small MT unit, but not quite, and N-iP04221 clicked uneasily at its batchmates before approaching the closet. With one of its two swords held ready in a hand, it triggered the door with the other. The door slid open and two mops fell over at the aggressive flinch and hiss the sound drew from-.

Incomplete units.

Very incomplete units. They couldn’t have been very far past their second yearly upgrade at the latest.

They looked different from small MT units, but not … not because they weren’t of a similar template. They were, they just looked like they had been forced through more upgrades than was recommended for units of their size and time post decanting. Their skin was already very pale, though not white like N-iP04221’s, and the ends of their fingers and bare feet had short, sharp claws rather than the more pliable nails that early MT units had before growing claws of their own —painfully, it was a side-effect of the upgrades and a reason they were always forced to wear thick gloves during maintenance sessions—. They pressed further into the closet, lips curling in wary-frightened-angry hisses that showed their teeth were pointed, much closer to a unit near its twelfth or thirteenth upgrade than its second, the fuzz on their heads was white as the snow outside the facility and their eyes were red-. No. Not red.

They had just changed color. It didn’t know what to call the shade. It was like blue but not, like the purple of plasmodia but so much lighter, and inside the mystery color were flecks of bright, bright gold, just like the multi-colored sparks now dancing off the small escaped units’ claws in warning. N-iP04221 took an obedient step back and cooed, simplifying its speech all the way down to the level of the second upgrade units that were still learning how to talk in ways that the overseers and technicians wouldn’t know to punish them for, “Safe-safe-calm-calm-no-harm-no-pain-hello.”

The sparks paused, drifted into nothing as the pair eyed it uneasily. One of them sneezed skepticism and caution, N-iP04221 clicked and whirred with reassurance and warning. It wouldn’t turn them in to the overseers, but they were so small, it couldn’t imagine they would succeed in their attempt for long. They wouldn’t be decommissioned, not from what the technician had said earlier, but even so. “Hide-hide-quiet-quiet,” it suggested with a low chatter, “can’t-help-won’t-hinder-sorry-sorry.” The two units that were so very small yet heavily upgraded shared a glance, pressing against each other skin to skin, just like batchmates did when terrified and unsure of what to do next. N-iP04221 wavered and tried not to feel … something. Something dangerous. Something that made it want to raise its sword and … perform an error. A critical error.

All three MT units went stock still when they heard a pair of technicians round the corner —familiar technicians, these were the two always sneaking off to their storage room to perform unsanctioned disrobing rituals while the units were trying to recharge—, “Why are you units just standing-, oh, you found them, perfect. Guess you hunks of junk aren’t completely useless in an emergency after all.” The bigger of the technicians stepped closer, already pulling a shock rod from off his belt and telling the other technician to “call it in”. All three MT units pulled away on instinct from the shock rod, but that meant letting the technician past them to the closet. The escaped units howled at the sight of the technician, snarled and screeched in pain-remembrance-no-no, lunged for him only to recoil from the snapping bite of electricity on the end of the rod. They were enhanced, but they were too small to attack a technician. They were caught now. They would be taken back and punished. Possibly modified. They had already been upgraded so heavily already, maybe the technicians would even risk performing the eighteenth year upgrade to make them obedient. The thought made the something in N-iP04221 rattle louder in its chest. So loud it was like a real noise rather than an internal error, so loud it made everything feel like static-.

Two pairs of eyes that glowed with flecks of gold in a color N-iP04221 couldn’t name but also couldn’t help but be entranced by locked on its faceplate, and from them something reached. Into its body. Into its blood and organs and bones, then deeper. A physical thing across the space between them and howled as loud as an MT unit that didn’t want to die to the final upgrade and so chose to decommission itself.

Help us. Please.

N-iP04221 didn’t realize it had moved until it heard the other technician start screaming. Until it heard the startled screeches of its batchmates and looked down at its own hand in time to see the first technician’s body slide slowly off its blade with a heavy, bloody thud. It had just stabbed the technician. It had just stabbed one of the technicians. It wasn’t going to be decommissioned for this, it was going to be live dissected, put back together, then dissected again.

“-Rogue unit, I repeat we have a rogue unit!” The second technician, the second technician was reporting it as she staggered back with wide eyes, electric rod aimed at it like a weapon, “It’s already killed Technician Simmons, the rogue unit is in-!” N-iP04221 didn’t see its batchmates move, but suddenly the technician fell silent and crumpled to the ground, body falling in one direction while her head rolled across the floor in the other. N-iP04240 lowered its axe, red-red-red human blood dripping onto the clean floor as they all stared at what they had just done.

“We’re going to be dissected repeatedly,” N-iP04240 clicked numbly, “They will put our processing units in jars and then dissect the jars.”

“Not if we run first.” They both looked over at N-iP04232, as it stepped past them into the cleaning closet and grabbed several of the solvents there, “We’re dead either way. We should at least try running first.”

Under its mask, N-iP04221 swallowed, hyper aware of the human blood on its blade, the dead technicians. Hyper aware that it didn’t regret, not when it was too late to regret, not when the two escaped small units had slunk out of the closet and were huddled against its legs on their four limbs, like they were more of an animal template than an MT unit template, or maybe just too scared and weak from forced upgrades to stand properly. The things from them curling in its bones and organs stayed, tight and hot with relief that didn’t belong to it, and it would have thought the feeling was a hallucination —a critical malfunction—, but a questioning whine at its batchmates confirmed they felt it too.

Without really thinking about it, N-iP04221 sheathed its bloodied sword, then reached down and picked up the two, painfully tiny units. They clung to its armor, little claws hooking in the seams as one sniffed curiously at the blood on the hand holding it and the other gently nosed its faceplate in greeting-gratitude. Holding on tightly to them, it turned and began running down the halls with its batchmates on its heels. They were going to be caught and painfully, brutally decommissioned. But they had to try.

N-iP04221 didn’t want to die.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Children of Men (Not Monsters) verse #MT units #MT culture #yes I'm going there #do you know how hard it is to write a pov #that thinks of himself as an it???#buckle up this gets angsty

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tonksie-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Fun and Games||CaraDin

Rating: Explicit

A/N: I have no answers. I was at a block with my Soul Mates fic and mentioned an HC in the CaraDin Server.. this is the result. Ao3 Link

Summary: Cara and Din are very competitive. And one time the game ends up a very different way. Thank you to @wolfy22bookie for the Beta

Cara raked her eyes over the unarmored wonder standing in front of her in her tiny apartment. She had almost no decoration in her house not counting a plastic plant Karga had gotten her to ‘liven up the place’. He said it was her employee of the month award. Din Djarin stood in casual clothes next to a basic table that usually had one chair. Tonight it had two as he’d pulled the chair from her desk in her bedroom. She’d taken off her armor and was walking around in a loose black shirt that went low enough you could barely see the shorts peeking out under it. He himself had chosen to remove his beskar leaving only his helmet and his casual under-armor clothes.

They’d been sitting at the table and pretending to drink for most of the night when the conversation had shifted to this.

“You’re playing a dangerous game Mandalorian.” She warned with a confident smirk.

“We never did get to finish.” he volleyed back. This was the game. The serve and set. Every shot easily volleyed.

“Yeah, it didn’t go so well.”

“We won’t be interrupted this time.”

“Where is the little green guy?” She asked, pouring herself a glass of some local drink or another and one for him, with a straw of course.

“I asked Karga to watch him. Said I had some unfinished business.” He tilted his head in just that way that told her he had a smug, challenging smirk even if she’d never seen it

“I’m unfinished business now?” her teasing smirk pulled at her lips.

A low chuckle rumbled from the helmet that added a heat to places she wasn’t used to needing to ignore “You’re saying you don’t want another go?” He challenged.

Oh if that bucket head only knew how he made her heart flutter she’d never live it down. She paced back over to the table putting down the drinks and looking him over slowly taking in every inch of beskar looking for the man underneath. “Fine. You’re on.” she said and sat down. He took the chair opposite her pulling off his glove. She put her own hand on the table and clasped his looking pointedly into the visor.

“On the count of three?” She suggested.

“One….”

“Two…”

“Three..” and in an instant both of their strengths met in a perfect match. Just like before both strained at full strength aiming to make the other’s hand hit the table. His hand was warm in hers, calloused and strong like a soldier. She was sure hers was just as rough, though somehow his grip almost made her look almost dainty.

She pressed on eyes still locked onto him. Each time one made a small move forward the other rallied and pushed them back to center. Her body was tensed and both had immense amounts of competitive nature lacing every look and move. Just like the last time they’d done this unbidden images flooded her mind.

She pictured yanking him up and shoving him against a wall. Tearing off his under armor and having her way with him both panting for a very different reason than the current exertion. She imagined him all flushed under the armor and panting as she ran her tongue over his chest and bit into a bicep she knew had to be impressive under his pauldron.

She could hear the labored sound of his breathing and felt the trembling of her own arm. “Same place as before. I’m still gonna win.” She insisted pushing herself harder as her arm started to move.

“Not yet.” He insisted and pressed harder himself pushing her back to center. She shifted slightly and her foot brushed his calf causing him to tense in a whole new way. She took that in not letting up on the match and neither did he though he had faltered slightly. Suddenly her earlier thoughts didn’t seem so far fetched.

She narrowed her eyes and moved her foot to inch up his calf carefully to avoid the plates of armor and hit the softer fabric. “Cara.” He grit a grunt of warning, his hand once again falters. She nearly gets him to the table when he manages to push her back to center and a new game is suddenly set into motion.

“What’s wrong Mando?” She asked somehow, mixing innocent and flirting. She heard a grunt and suddenly his knee was on the inside of hers and she wobbled as her fluttering stomach went wild and her eyes flashed. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth to keep herself controlled which seemed to get him distracted for a moment. She heard a grunt and instantly went “Kriff this.”

She let go of his hand and pulled him up by the collar pressing him against the wall. “Tell me to stop.” she rasped and she could hear him swallow under his helmet.

“I---”

“Tell me to stop.” She rasped again at the long pause.

“Don’t stop.” He rasped and there it was. She pulled open the belt and pulled him in by it. In an instant his other glove flew to the floor and his hands were on her. She pulled off his belt and threw it to the side and the forehead of his visor gently pressed to hers. She’s heard of Mandalorians doing this as a greeting, the Keldabe kiss, and she hadn’t understood it then. Now it made perfect sense. She desperately wanted to kiss him, to taste his lips and feel his jaw, but that movement soothed her lust a little.

At least it had until his hands snuck from her hips to her ass and squeezed and suddenly there was a whole new life to the fire in her. She easily opened the pants he wore under his armor and pushed up his shirt running hands over his thin stomach and getting a flash of caramel skin and a little bit of dark curling hair. She subconsciously bit her lip as she ran her eyes over the skin and her fingers teased the thin layer of hair. She pulled the shirt up even more to see a tanned but hairless chest and the lips slowly pulled from her teeth as she smiled at the image. His hands seemed to be frozen in place and she could feel his eyes glued to her and taking her reactions in. She looked up at the visor and smiled. “You're wearing too many clothes.” she flirted and that seemed to start him.

In seconds his hands flew down on her thighs and she was being lifted to wrap her legs around his hips. Her arms circled around his shoulders and she pulled at the turtleneck type shirt just enough to get it free of his helmet and pull it down to get to skin. She kissed his neck feeling stubble under her tongue. So he had some kind of facial hair. Little hints and tidbits were starting to form in her mind of this man and she was piecing them together creating a very sexy image in her mind.

Her teeth skimmed the tiny patch of skin she had to work with and she heard a grunt as his grip on her tightened and she couldn’t fight a self satisfied smirk as he walked them with surprising grace into her bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. She pushed back so she was up against the pillows and quickly deposited her shirt to the floor which seemed to stop him for a moment. He just stood there still staring at her and she would have started to feel shy if she hadn’t seen a clear visible reaction tenting his opened pants.

“Close your eyes.” Din rasped and she arched a brow.

“Am I keeping them closed? Because if I’m doing the rest of this blindfolded, those pants are coming off first.” She insisted with a playful smile. She heard a frustrated groan come from the helmet and couldn’t help a laugh.

“You’re going to kill me.” He groused to her and she shrugged leaning back in a way that very clearly accentuated her cleavage in the thin bra she had on. The bra didn’t do much for shape and it wasn’t meant to be sexy, it was meant to work under armor and be sensible, but he didn’t seem to mind with the way she could see his head tilt just enough to tell her where his eyes were.

“Not yet, I have things I’d rather do first.” she assured and he laughed a sexy low laugh that sent shockwaves of heat all over her body, all seemingly aiming for the spot between her legs.

“Just close your eyes.” He said with a huff. She loved that, the frustration. They were never going to have a sweet or gentle first time. They met in a fight and they hadn’t stopped fighting since. She wouldn’t want them to either. That competition, that heat, that connection on the battlefield, that was real! That was far more real to her than flowers or candy or any of that other crap. This right here was the most honest they could get.

She stared at him challengingly for a moment, but finally sighed and closed her eyes leaning back on her elbows to wait. If he really expected her to keep her eyes closed this entire time she was going to kill him. She’d do it, but she had more she wanted to see first. She heard the disengage of the helmet and the clunk of it being put down. She heard the shuffle of fabric and the clink of him picking it up, but not putting it back on.

She was surprised at how much just the sounds and images in her mind were affecting her. The image of him completely trusting her as he walked around her apartment with his dark hair bared to the world. She could construct an image in her mind even as she was missing the features of his face only having the hints she’d learned from the flashes she’d gotten of skin she’d uncovered.

She heard his shirt flop to the floor right next to hers and a sigh right over her. He was looking down at her and she had to press her legs together to try and fight some of the pressure and need building between them at the anticipation. Suddenly his hand fell on her stomach. It was nearly scorchingly hot and she felt him smoothe his hand over the skin stroking gently at it. His other hand cupped her jaw and suddenly lips were on hers.

A moan ripped from her throat as her hand shot up and she was pleased with her assessment as she felt loose curls she could grab onto and run her hands in. She felt the slight rub of stubble against her chin and cheeks as she dragged him closer arching up for more. Her mouth was demanding on his as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, which he was happy to accept and return with equal demand.

He pulled back way too soon and she tried to yank him back closer, her eyes staying closed tightly out of sheer force of will. She heard a groan from him, deep and needy and she laughed a little. “I got you now Mando.” she parroted her words from their last armwrestling match.

His laugh at that ran through her making her pull on his hair again wanting more, needing more of him. “I thought you wanted me to put my helmet back on.” He pointed out.

“Kriff the helmet.” she cursed. Did she want to see him, absolutely, but damn if kissing him wasn’t addicting. She could spend the whole damn night doing that, or at least she would if the promise of more weren’t right there.

His lips crashed into hers again and she moaned moving a hand to his hips and grabbing him by the slight gap in his pants making him fall forward his hands flying from their places on her body to catch himself and pulling a laugh from both of them. “Next time.” He whispered to her his mouth kissing down her neck making her moan and arch to give him room. His hand came up to hers, which was firmly threaded in his hair and not moving and he gently pulled himself free. “I promise.” A promise of next time.

That felt heavy on her mind, that meant this wasn’t just one time of the two of them lost in passion. That meant he’d thought about it too. That meant he wanted to do it again. She refused to let panic or fear chase away her excitement. She wasn’t sure what they could have but at least having a round two was something she wasn’t going to turn down.

She let her grip go with a huff and let him stand up and put his helmet back on. “You can open your eyes.” He offered and she did. There before her was a very disheveled mandalorian with a helmet that looked far too big with every other piece of his armor removed and his pants hanging open and barely able to contain his erection that was pushing hard at the gap. She couldn’t help but laugh at the image in front of her. He looked precious, sexy for certain, but somehow so open and bared to her and she was never good at dealing with emotions. “Great that’s exactly what every guy dreams of when a gorgeous woman sees him shirtless.” He grumbled sounding like he was pouting which just drove her deeper to giggles.

“No no, I’m sorry. That’s not it. Trust me you’re very sexy.” she attempted to assure him as she pushed herself to her knees and laced her arms around his shoulder pressing her forehead to his visor and pulling a gasp from him. “You just look…. Well it’s an image let me put it that way.” She explained her hand trailing lightly over his chest and she flicked his nipple making him groan as his hands fell to her hips drawing her closer.

“Not helping.” He grunted and she felt his hands clench on her hips.

“Here maybe this will help.” She offered and pulled back just enough to quickly and effectively pull off her bra over her head. “Better?” she asked.

He closely observed her movements and she could clearly see the downward tilt and her own breasts mirrored to her in the shiny beskar. She didn’t even have to guess as to where his eyes were and she smirked extremely confident at his reaction. “Much.” He added and she rolled her eyes.

“Get down here.” She used a quick combat move and flipped him onto the bed making him let out an oomph of air as his back hit the mattress and in seconds she was straddling his hips looming over him both shirtless. Her hands once again trailed over his shoulders and down his chest to his stomach and she lowered her lips to kiss down his neck then to his shoulder and she lightly bit at his bicep eliciting a few groans as he ground his hips up to her.

His hands had stayed pretty still through most of this. With a few notable exceptions, they had stayed firmly on her hips. That didn’t last long once he was on his back. As soon as he was looking up at her his hands trailed up her sides and one of his hands cupped her breast drawing a curse from her as his thumb lazily circled around her nipple. Her hips rocked against his and she knew she needed to get them both out of the remainder of her clothing because hers were already well into unsalvageable territory. Just as that thought entered her mind the hand that wasn’t on her breast snuck into her knickers and shorts. She felt his finger move up her slick opening and moaned arching her back.

“Phwoar” he hissed moving his finger up and down her slick folds again pressing ever so lightly over her clit working her up as her hips rocked against his hand making her bite down into his shoulder and suck to hold back the wonton noises that clawed at the back of her throat.

“It’s been a while.” She admitted to try and brush off just how wet she was. It wasn’t a lie, she hadn’t really been with anyone since she’d settled here. At first she’d told herself it was just that she didn’t find anyone here attractive but that had very clearly not been the case the more time she spent here. It was just that no one was quite as attractive to her as the man beneath her now.

His only response to her explanation was to slip two fingers deep inside of her and she moaned pushing herself up on his chest to get a better angle biting onto her lip as she rocked her hips against his hand and his fingers pumped a maddeningly slow rhythm in and out of her. “More.” She breathed an almost plea and he was happy to answer. She could feel his eyes drinking her like a man in a desert at an oasis. She tried to get a good place, but every time she moved her shorts seemed to get in the way and she cursed under her breath. She kissed his chest one last time, pleased to see a mark already forming on his shoulder before gently pulling his hand from her and lifting her leg to fully pull off her shorts. “That’s much better.” She smirked. “Now where were we?” She asked and in an instant he moved like a bullet. This time he was on top of her. Resting between her legs his hand instantly going back to her center sliding three fingers easily inside. “Din.” She moaned at the sudden rush of pleasure that hit her body with his movement.

He paused his movements hearing his name from her lips and she panicked for a moment, her hands clenched on his shoulders looking up at him, his fingers still buried deep. “Was that ok?”

“Yeah.” Was all he said for a moment that felt like forever as he looked at her. Normally she could read every emotion on him. They spoke without words or facial expressions so often Karga had accused her of being force sensitive enough to read minds. She wasn't; she just knew him. Right now he was unreadable though and just as she was about to open her mouth and tell him they could stop he started his slow rhythm of his fingers up his thumb going to circle and tease her clit bringing more pleasure as his fingers curled. “Say it again.” The request was surprisingly gentle. It wasn’t a demand, it was more of a plea that struck deep inside of her.

“Din.” She breathed. “Harder.” he was more than happy to oblige. He increased the speed his fingers went and he pressed the head of his helmet against her shoulder making her moan at the feel of cool metal against her hot skin. She hadn’t expected that to feel as good as it did. Her nails raked down his back clawing to bring him closer to her and she could feel the coil of a climax in her stomach. “So close. Please.” she panted.

“I wish I could rip off my helmet and taste you.” He muttered quietly. “I can smell you from here.” he added and damn if that didn’t do it. Those words mixing with everything else shoved her over the edge with a cry of his name. “You’re beautiful Cara.” he whispered to her and worked her through her climax. She fell back on the bed panting and sweaty and thoroughly pleased.

She coaxed him higher and kissed his shoulder and chest her hand slipping into his pants ready to return the favor. She wrapped her hand around his velvet length straining hard against the prison his pants created. She gently moved up and down over it eliciting a low guttural moan as his head once again fell to her shoulder. “Those are some talented hands you have there, Mandalorian.” She murmured to him. “Can’t wait to test that mouth of yours.” She added and flipped them over so she was again on top. Somehow she knew he was about to object but she stopped him with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Nope my turn now.” She flirted pulling down his pants slowly.

He laid back watching her and if a helmet could look cocky he absolutely did. She could see smugness in his body language and he had good reason to be smug. He was not a small man that was clear from looking down and she was certain he was pleased with having made her cum already. She was competitive though, and that look made this a competition. She arched a brow at his look and leaned down gently trailing the tips of her hair over his stomach as she moved. “Cara what are you--” He was cut off by the loud groan that ripped through his throat as she wrapped her mouth around the very tip of his cock and gently sucked.

That had gotten the smug look off of him and she was very pleased with herself as she lowered down slightly taking more of him in her hand directly below her mouth to extend the feeling. She ran the tip of her tongue over the ridge at the bottom of his head drawing another low moan that went right to her already dripping core and sent goosebumps all over her body. She took more of him in sucking as she did, taking as much as she could before moving back up and swirling her tongue around the head of his cock. She drank in every grunt and moan as she moved. She flicked her eyes up to him seeing the reflection of what she was doing at locked eyes with him in the way only she could.

Keeping complete eye contact she once again slowly took his cock into her mouth as far as she could sucking and massaging with her tongue. Her hand slipped to her own center to tease her fingers over her dripping folds. She could feel the pressure of need building all over again and she needed some relief. She watched as his helmet moved enough to see her hand then back to her eyes and his head fell back with a string of mandalorian curses and some in another language she didn’t know. “Cara I need you.” He grunted out and she could hear how his teeth were clenched.

She let his erection fall out of her mouth with a pop and smirked “You have me.” She pointed out. “I’m right here.” She added lightly trailing the tips of her teeth over the edge of the head bringing out another grunt.

“You know what I mean.” he growled his hands going to her shoulders making her pause.

“Do I?” she flirted, taking him into her mouth again and sucking.

With a string of curse words she was yanked up by the shoulders and flipped to the bed with force, her hand ripped from her center and held firmly next to her head. He’d gotten the drop on her in her surprise and she tried to flip them again but he held firm his entire weight on her. “Tell me to stop.” he mirrored her words at the very start pulling a laugh from her as she looked up at him. She instantly wrapped her legs around him pulling him in by her heels on his ass.

“Not a Wampa’s chance on Tattooine.” She smirked up at him, eyes locked to his and somehow she just knew he was smiling under that helmet and a smile broke out on hers. He placed the forehead of his helmet to hers and she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck holding him there with her eyes closed just drinking in the gentle moment. While she held him in place he positioned himself at her entrance and slid inside of her with ease. Both tensed at the flood of pleasure that just being like that seemed to bring.

There was an exquisite stretch of feeling filled that had her clinging to him, her legs tightening their hold. One hand held the back of his neck the other rested on his biceps as he held himself over her muscles straining. She rocked her hips with a quiet barely breathed “Please.” and he started to move in earnest. There was no slow or gentle starting pace. He was plunging deep into her with abandon and she angled herself so it hit just the right place inside of her every time.

Their voices joined together in a string of moans and breathing as she coaxed him on every time with variations on “Yes, please, more yes.” The hand that wasn’t holding him up moved from her thigh down to her hip and up her side to massage her breast pulling out another long moan from her. She bucked up against him using her legs to angle them both.

All too soon his hand soon moved down her stomach to tease her clit and she could feel herself tightening again. “Close Cara please.” He growled in her ear so close she could hear his raw voice under the voice modulator.

It was enough to send her spiraling over the edge, her head thrown back and nails digging into his shoulder and arm as she shouted his name to her small, bare apartment. He tumbled over the cliff after her, spurting hot seed deep inside of her with a rasp of her name parading from his lips like a prayer. He managed to fall to the side as he collapsed under the exhaustion of his climax and she instantly turned to press close to him, her nose to his chest and her hand gently playing with the small line of hair she felt on his stomach.

“How long can you stay?” she asked her voice low. She didn’t expect him to stay the night. She was sure he would be gone as soon as he could regain his breath. Normally she would be fine with that, but for some reason with him she hated the thought of him leaving. She swallowed against the feeling in her throat. She hated that he made her so damn weak that she didn’t want him to go.

She felt his arms wrap around her and pull her closer. She heard a sigh and felt the tickle of his breath on her hair under the helmet that wasn’t quite as locked down without all the other parts of his armor. “Don’t know yet. It’s dangerous for the kid to stay in one place too long.” He admitted. She closed her eyes as a smile pulled at her lips unable to believe the man holding her in his arms. How did he know so much and still miss everything sometimes.

“I meant tonight.” she pointed out with a laugh and she pressed a light kiss to his chest nuzzling into his neck as her leg slipped between his. “How long can you stay tonight?” She explained.

“Oh.” He laughed a bit and pulled her even closer. “I think Karga can handle the kid for one night. I made sure he was sound asleep before I came.” He explained. “A few frogs and a bowl of warm soup and that kid can hibernate.” he added.

“Frogs?” She asked looking up at the helmet she knew as well as any face her hand going up to run along the line she saw.

“Yeah it’s weird I know but he loves them.” he said looking down at her and both laughed. She bit her lip looking up thinking the situation over and rolled away from him. She shivered as soon as the air hit her skin and he made a sort of grunting noise of displeasure as she moved but she opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the sash she’d used to cover her tattoo the first time they’d come here before rolling back.

“Can you tie this for me?” She asked instantly, seeing confusion in his body language. Though a part of his looked a little excited and she had to laugh. “That too if you want but I was just thinking you shouldn’t have to sleep in your helmet.” She pointed out holding it out to him and turning her back. She heard him shift and crawl closer and press his chest to her back as he gently wrapped the black band around her eyes. He was careful and slow in his movements sure to get all of her hair out of the way. It was sweet, methodical and so terribly him. She hadn’t heard him take his helmet off, but he must have because she felt a pair of lips and a layer of stubble come into contact with her shoulder making her tilt her head to the side to give him space.

“Thank you.” he breathed into her ear kissing her neck. “No one has ever done that for me before.” He explained making a smile bloom on her lips and she turned around pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Careful or I might demand a round three.” she warned, making him laugh and pull her in flopping back so she was pressed to his chest as they shifted and wrapped around each other.

“Give me ten minutes and I’m all yours.” He said with a rumbling laugh, kissing her again deeply, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I like the sound of that.” she flirted nuzzling his neck and taking a deep breath of the smell of metal and leather and spice and him. Her entire body relaxed. He smelled like home. “We never did figure out who would win in an arm wrestle.”

#Caradin #Cara Dune #Din Djarin #Smut... seriously I'm not kidding... unrepentant smut #nothing but smut #thanks to the CaraDin server for the suggestion.

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