#and it was take AT LEAST a decade before she would agree to ‘help’ the good guys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 2 months

Text

Odette and Clare with bodyguard reader hired by Carmilla to protect them only ending As something more.

Twin Tempations

Carmilla accepted nothing but the best.

Especially when it came to her daughters.

You went through several 'trails' and tribulations before Carmilla gave you the job, the woman instilling the deepest sense of duty and dedication into you before you even met the girls.

Clara was... unimpressed.

She worked besides her mother for decades, and put simply, her standards were exceptionally high so, well, she wasn't impressed.

She understood why you were hired.

Her mother hoped plenty of individuals for similar roles.

She just didn't agree with the decision.

Odette... didn't really care.

Yes, it was slightly demeaning that their mother felt the need to hire another bodyguard, but honestly, so long as you didn't get to big for your boots and get in the way, she wasn't all that bothered.

And so, after the greeting and usual back and forth, Clara being sure to let you know she doesn't think all that highly of you, you just acknowledging it, the girl unsure how to respond to your neutral exchange.

Your major duty was to follow the pair around as they handled various jobs for Carmilla.

From weapons shipments, to collecting stray angelic steel. Your duty being to stay by their side as they carried their duties out.

You of course, just followed them around, doing as you were told, usually resulting in you carrying around the bulk of materials for them.

Loose weapons, crates, baggage and just anything they couldn't be bothered to carry.

You would of course, do your duty as a bodyguard.

Or at least you'd try.

As while your presence alone would deter many creeps and sleeze bags that may have wished to prey on the pair of attractive young ladies, well, put bluntly, Clara wouldn't pass up on any chance to mark you 'redundant'.

And while her comments were almost constant, you'd just shrug it off, ignoring her snide comments while keeping up your professionalism, doing as you were told so long as they didn't do anything to actively endanger themselves.

You'd often find yourself helping in business, whether it be pulling a cart of munitions or simply holding the clipboard. Though even then, Clara was always adamant on checking it herself, determined to not let you 'screw it up'.

And well, despite her hostility, you fell into a routine.

You'd follow them around, helping with whatever job they'd been given.

And when not on the clock you'd train, working yourself hard, or oddly enough, find yourself hanging around Carmilla herself.

Now granted, Odette and Clara would both spend much of their time around her too, unless they were on a job, but when in Carmilla's 'Sanctuary', you'd often find yourself shadowing the woman, waiting for the girls to be sent out on a task.

Now your relationship with the girls would be... rocky... at best.

At least in the beginning.

Clara, as mentioned, was fairly bull headed, the woman a capable fighter in her own right, the demoness always sure to let you know she didn't need you.

She'd challenge you to countless duels, you always refusing to raise your hand to her.

You could take her snide and snippy comments. They were literally nothing compared to what Carmilla would do to you if she discovered you accidentally hurt her daughter while sparing.

And well, she really didn't respect you, seeing you as just another mindless goon sent to watch them work.

Odette on the other hand, was more hospitable.

Now she wasn't exactly your best friend, but she certainly wasn't hostile, the two of you able to hold a conversation without it turning into a one sided snide comment competition.

She didn't really see the need for you, especially with Clara at her side, but she honestly wasn't apposed to more security on their runs.

You'd actually discuss the business on many occasions, the young lady impressed with how much you knew on weapons design and angelic steel. Your mind far more of a steel blade as a posed to the dull hammer Clara propagated.

You'd of course wield those very weapons, so your knowledge was quite intimate in many regards.

Still, having the discipline and drive to use such weapons was nothing to scoff at, the weapons as much a danger to the weilder then it's potential target.

Your little tuff with Clara would come to ahead just after an extermination.

You'd be out collecting angelic steel.

Why would the daughters of one of the most powerful overlords in Hell personally be out collecting handfuls of steel, especially considering she'd have hundreds of souls under her control?

Clara mostly.

She loved field work. And Odette was always happy to get some work done, especially with her sister.

And well, you were kind of stuck with them.

But It'd be as you grabbed some steel, trying to lighten Clara's load, ya know, doing your job and caring for them that Clara would snap at you, telling you off that she could do it herself.

She'd go on, telling you she could more than protect herself and her sister, she didn't need some chump off the street to do what she'd been doing for years.

Odette would attempt to step in and defend you, but Clara wouldn't have it, screaming at you before storming off, breathing hard as she ignored her sisters calls.

With a sigh, you simply told Odette to finish up while you went after her.

Clara would be be marching away angrily, steps heavy as she marched down a decrepit street, the girl muttering and snarling to herself, about you, why do they even need you?! Why would mother give some random such a job?! Doesn't her mother know she's more then enough?!

She hated you. Hated how orderly. How polite. How disciplined you were. How Odette and even her MOTHER seemed to like you!

She hated you!

It was as she finally calmed down that she realised she was lost.

And with a sigh, she'd start walking around, trying to centre herself.

She'd quickly find herself in a decrepit alleyway, the girl freezing as a group of Sinners waltzed up to her.

Clara would tell them to fuck off as they cat called her, and despite her attempts to walk away, she'd find herself surrounded.

She didn't panic of course after all, she had... she... had... her weapons...

It was then that she realised that in her anger she'd thrown her weapon to the floor, leaving her defenceless.

And suddenly she understood why having a dedicated body guard may be a good thing.

She was no such pushovwr even without her weapons, but there were a Lot of them, the girl not sure how many of them she could take before they overwhelmed her.

And it was just as a man was about to reach her, a sinister smirk smeered across his face that his head would explode.

And before she could quite process it, you were suddenly before the girl, and you... you were magnificent.

You, quite literally, cut your way through the Sinners.

You putting those skills, and weapons, to good use as you cut and shot your way through the crowd, their numbers rapidly shrinking.

Rip and Tear!

It'd be as you went one on one with an especially large demon made a go at Clara that you'd be forced to jump in, defending the girl, but having your hand cut off for your effort.

Even with one hand missing, you still cut down the rest of the fucks before turning to her, checking on her

Clara would snap at you for asking if she was alright as your bloody stump dripped to the floor.

You'd tell her that didn't matter, you were her bodyguard. She was your priority. You didn't matter so long as she was alright.

She could see how genuine you were. How dedicated you were to her and your job.

And she felt... awful.

After a few moments, she'd apologise. Telling you how sorry she was for treating you so poorly, promising it would never happen again.

And much to her surprise, you just smiled, laughing actually before you reached out, gently brushing her hair back.

You telling her you appreciate it.

It wasn't necessary, but you really did appreciate it.

Clara would blush at that before laughing it off, punching your shoulder, telling you you should get back, you agreeing as you gripped your stump.

After that you and Clara were on much better terms, you two getting very close over the following days.

In fact Carmilla herself would notice how close you and Clara got over the next few months, even dualling on many occasions, the young lady learning more then a few tricks from you.

Of course you and Carmilla still spent time together, you often shadowing her in her day to day whenever you weren't out working with the girls or spending time with Clara.

But as you grew closer to Clara, you'd also strengthen your relationship with Odette. You'd accompany her on expeditions, works and research works.

And while you were always friendly, it never really breached a professional arrangement.

That was until one particular resource shipment.

You were supposed to pick up some very important materials from a new supplier.

Unfortunately this supplier was a stupid piece for shit, and tried to just gun you down and take the money.

Of course, you wouldn't allow her to fall to any harm.

Though unfortunately for you, the bastards who betrayed you happened to have one of Carmillas very own carbines, attempting to take out Carmillas daughter.

Of course you didn't let that happen, acting as a human shield, taking the bullet as you protected the girl, recieving a ruthless gut wound, and since it was an angellic bullet it did serious damage, you struggling to protect the girl as you git her the fuck out of there.

You sluggishly picking off several goons before you managed to get her out, the two of you stranded for several hours, Odette doing her best to dress your wound, the two of you sharing a surprisingly light hearted moment before you managed to contact Carmilla and get a pick up.

Now Carmilla would be slightly erked at the turn of events, she would understand that the situation was out of your control.

And given your harsh wound protecting her daughter the woman would spend a small fortune tending to you.

Clara especially defending you, not that she really needed too, but it was nice to see the girl warm to you.

Carmilla caught off guard by Odettes rather harsh defence of you, the girls almost zelous defence of you clearly inspired by your selfless act, the girl actually hostile towards her mother for the very first time.

A first for both women.

So after backing off, you and Odette would enter a new balance in your relationship.

A balance that would rapidly become lopsided as Odette and Clara would begin vying for your attention.

Clara through sparing, the two of you dueling or debating your choice in weapons.

While Odette would talk shop, the two of you discussing weapons development, or just having a casual chat on Carmillas business empire.

It really didn't matter what you were talking about, so long as the two of you were close and chatting they were happy.

The three of you getting closer and closer, you and Clara bonding over your mutual combat experience, while your wit and intellect rapidly sharpened with Clara.

Funnily enough, despite the clashes in personality and Claras usually blunt personality, it would be Odette who confessed first.

The studios girl admitting that she was infatuated with you, the girl asking to perhaps become more.

You'd of course take a day to think.

Though having time to think wasnt a luxury you were granted as the second Clara found out about her sisters confession, the girl would confess herself, the headstrong young lady confessing as she pretty much pinned you down mid duel.

Of course she only pinned you down because you let her, the girl rather blunt as she told you you meant a great deal to her and... and she wanted you.

And that's how you found yourself pinned between two headstrong daughters of one of the most prominent Overlords on Pride.

You were of course split between the two, you not wanting to hurt either, but knowing that choosing one would devastate the other.

But funnily enough, the decision would also be yanked from your hands.

The two would discover the others confession, tearing at each other.

Funnily enough, having to step in to divide the two would result in them demanding you choose.

And so, you snapped, scolding the two, stopping the sisters from fighting, demanding they settle down or else you won't choose either of them.

And funnily enough, they did settle down, the power shifting drastically into your favour in a shocking display of power.

The girl's would take up a new stance, both doing their best to seduce you, though in rapidly different manners.

Odette doing so by leaning heavily into the simple yet affectionate way you interacted, relishing the time you spent together, Odette far more playful, not missing a chance to seduce you. Though even then, she couldn't help but be the adorable dork you held so fondly.

Clara on the other hand was faaaaar more physical.

It actually being during a rather rough sparing session that she'd sweep you off your feet, pinning you down, the girl all smiles as she rather seductively demanded you choose her or her sister.

It'd be after a week of the two fighting for you, constantly arguing and snapping at the other that you'd finally snap, telling them you'd date them both, and that's how it'd be.

And much to your surprise, they agreed.

And that's... well, that's how you ended up as both the bodyguard and the S/O of the two daughters of Carmilla Carmine.

It actually worked out surprisingly well.

You spending time with each of them in their own element.

You and Clara duelling, sparing and enjoying each other physically.

While enjoying Odettes intellect in person, the two of you having many a 'stimulating' conversation, the girl not at all hesitant to tell you she wanted you.

You'd do your best to keep this new dynamic under wraps, not wanting Carmilla to discover your new relationship with not just one, but both of her daughters.

As even if you and Carmilla held a level of mutual respect, that was not a fun prospect on your part.

And keeping up your usual relationship with the woman, the two of you speaking after a job, or even duelling, the Matriarch of her slice of Hell going out of her way to see your consistency, as well as testing your skills.

Your dynamic with the girls would, oddly enough, develope smoothly.

You and Clara bonding and developing in the field, you and the young lady often competing in a playful manner, playing off each other strengths, more then happy to compete with each other's strengths, even if you openly placed her safety over your own.

While you would happily go toe to toe with the feisty Clara, you and Odette happily played off each other, the young woman easily, almost scarily, able to set the scene to dominate you, easily getting you beneath her as she showed off that cunning intelligence.

Your relationships would steadily grow more and more intimate, Clara and Odette having their own, and yet powerful hold over you, both women happy to tease and draw you in, and always dominating you, yet never taking the power from you, happy to make it so you were in control, yet never more then when you were a simple bodyguard.

You'd find yourself in more and more intimate situations with the pair, both Clara and Odette demanding a certain style of... smooching~

You'd end up in a very compromising situation after a particularly stressful mission, you single-handedly defending Odette from a gang of hoodlums.

And dragging you back home, the girl giving Carmilla a hasty debrief on what happened before she'd drag you to her room for a quick 'discussion', the girl instead tying your arms behind you, rather aggressively smooching you as you lay back in one of her chairs, the girl sat on your lap as she unleashed her less then subtlely pent up arousal upon you.

And it'd be as she shoved her tongue down your throat, hands gliding over your form, that Carmilla would knock on the door, asking to speak with Odette.

Of course the girl would freak, hurriedly shoving your clothes into your hands before all but forcing you out through a hidden exit.

You'd stumble from her room, stumbling into the hallway just around the corner from her room as you desperately slid your pants on.

Just managing to get dressed, you stumble along, hopping as you furiously buttoned up your shirt. And reaching further down the Hall, intent on putting space between you and Odettes room.

Only to stumble upon a monolith of a demon.

Zestial.

The tall, slender, green and black demon overlord staring down at your for several moments before a wicked, almost wicked, smirk crossed his face.

He'd release a sinister chuckle, the man sighing softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Oh... young love. Sweet as wine, bitter as... well, a wine."

The ancient overlord giggled, the man gently combing your hair back before simply turning, waltzing away, leaving you a shocked, terrified lil demon, you hurriedly scurrying off the second Zestial was out of frame.

Of course, running off to the other daughter, Clara was just as bad. And finding you in only your tight, form fitting, crotch hugging pants.

Clara finding that very interesting~

The two of you hanging in her room.

And by 'haning' I mean she also strapped you to a chair, though this time the young lady had cuffs for it.

Why did she just have a chair and cuffs prepared for you?

That's not important.

But you would grow closer and closer to the pair, though Carmilla seemed intent on breaking up any chance you had to go past a uh, certain barrier.

But it wouldn't be until one sparring match, Carmilla wanting to do a 'live practice', i.e. the two of you using actual angelic weapons in a serious duel, the two of you going at it.

You'd hold nothing back, the woman leaving several nicks and shallow cuts on your body.

While that would be a major fuck up for most, considering Carmillas skills and your own extensive training, you considered yourself more then capable.

It'd be as you fought her off yet again, that the Matriarch would pi you to the wall, her angelic steel heels dangerously close to your throat as she stared you down.

And with a stern gaze the woman would tell you bluntly, she knew.

You'd freeze, able to use the moment to throw her off.

She'd stare you down, telling you bluntly that she knows your having relations with her daughters.

You'd stay there for a long moment before sighing.

You knew if she wanted to kill you she would have already, so, you went clean.

You told her that you didn't know how, or why, but the woman's daughters took an intimate interest in you.

You didn't know how you were blessed to earn their affection but you were, and while you completely understood the woman's trepidation towards you, you swore you'd never do anything to harm them.

Those girls were your very life.

Your reasons to exist.

And while they liked to act like it were a game, you took it seriously.

You loved them, as strange of a dynamic as it was, the two girls meant the world to you, and while you'd gladly give your life for them you'd ask the Matriarch to spare you.

Not for your sake, but for the girls.

Knowing full well if the woman simply killed you it'd not only break their heart but destroy her relationship with the girls.

Carmilla showed no expression, staring you down for several moments before humming.

She'd let you off with a cold stare, telling you while she wasn't fond of her daughters competing for the same person, let alone that person being their supposed bodyguard, she respected your grit, admiring your willingness to hold true to your duty and serve her daughters equally, despite the emotional ties.

She'd tell you she'd respect herr daughter choice in partner, but put bluntly, if you hurt either of them, she'd neuter you like a dog.

And with that terrifying note, you begun an oddly intimate relationship dynamic with the girls.

While initially the dynamic consisted of the two girls competing over you, it quickly morphed into an oddly intimate threeway dynamic, both girls acknowledging you as their natural partner, the two reaching a truce as they both pursued you.

And with Carmillas unspoken blessing, your dynamic bloomed into a surprisingly soft and intimate relationship, the three of you becoming an adoring, intimate trio, finding ahealthy balance and loving each other warmly.

You, Odette and Clara all bound into a loving, warm and deeply intimate relationship, the three of you holding a deeply loving bond as the sisters mutually agreed to pursue you.

An odd dynamic to be sure, but no doubt an equally loving and intimate one.

#headcanon #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #odette x reader #clara x reader #hazbin hotel odette #hazbin hotel clara

129 notes · View notes

shanastoryteller · 1 year

Note

Happy birthday! Hope its great! The Untamed please? Its one of my favorite fandoms you've gotten me into 🥰

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Mo Xuanyu is married to the Second Jade of Lan.

Song Lan had known she’d married into the Lan – it was obvious – but he’d thought it was some not so bright cultivator that had been bewitched by her pretty face, or possibly literally bewitched, which he’d already decided wasn’t any of his damn business. If some stupid Lan wants a terrifying and amoral demonic cultivator for a wife, then good luck to them. Except they obviously don’t know she’s a demonic cultivator, considering their clan’s history with the original. But again, not his business, not his problem. His first priority is Xiao Xingchen and if Mo Xuanyu is going help him, then he really doesn’t care about who she’s terrorizing in her spare time.

Except it appears he’d underestimated her.

Because she’s apparently Jin Xuanyu now, legitimized and married off to the second most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world, superseded only by his brother who’s been unofficially off the market for over a decade.

Hanguang Jun had lived as a widower and Song Lan had been convinced he was going to die as one. Uncharitably, he wonders if maybe Lan Wangji just has a type, then feels bad about it in the next moment.

She orders Sect Leader Lan around and he lets her. She glares Hanguang Jun down.

To say absolutely nothing of the way she’d taken down Xue Yang. And then given him that dubious honor of taking credit for the kill, likely because she didn’t want to try and explain to her family how she’d managed it.

She had been clever and dangerous as a teenager. She’s managed to vault herself from disgraced bastard daughter to wife of the heir to the Lan and the legal mother to the third in line who will likely be the one actually succeeding Lan Xichen.

Jin Xuan – Xuanyu is a friend. She has very firmly shown herself to be a friend, helping him and protecting Xiao Xingchen and showing what certainly looks like genuine kindness to the girl who’d helped them, A-Qing.

Possibly she’s done all this to ensure their silence over what she used to be, what she is, but if so then it’s been successful. Betrayal would be a poor repayment for everything she’s done. The Lan hadn’t helped him or Xiao Xingchen. She had. The Lan can take care of themselves and if they can’t withstand the machinations of one woman, they deserve what they get.

Xiao Xingchen hasn’t said much, and Song Lan owes him so many apologies, but not here in front of everyone. He at least agrees to fly with him without much fuss. It will be difficult for him to fly with all three of them for any significant distance, but A-Qing asks Xuanyu to fly with her and she agrees with a smile.

Lan Sizhui doesn’t seem particularly thrilled, but he apparently is far too respectful of his step mother to disagree with her.

They’re flying back the inn when Xiao Xingchen presses himself back against his chest and tilts his head back to say, “Song Lan.”

It’s been so long since he’s heard Xiao Xingchen say his name. He has to swallow before he says, “Yes?”

“That’s,” he starts, then stops. “Who was that?”

“Who?” he asks. “We’re traveling with the Lans.”

“The woman,” he says.

His lips tug down into a frown but he tries not to panic. He’s been under charms to confuse and dull his senses for months. “That was Mo Xuanyu.”

If he’s already confused, getting into her legitimization probably won’t help anything.

Xiao Xingchen is silent for a few more moment. Then he asks, “Are you sure?”

What on earth. “Who else would she be?”

“She moves like – and sounds – but. It can’t. She’s – different,” he says.

As wonderful as it is to hear him speaking, Song Lan wishes he were saying less worrying things. “It’s been a long time since we saw her last. She’s grown up and married. Of course she’s different.” He squeezes his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s waist, hoping it’s not too presumptuous when they haven’t discussed anything yet. “It’s okay, after everything that’s happened this all must feel very sudden. Xuanyu is the one that found you. We can trust her.”

He thinks they can trust her. They can trust her more than any other sect cultivator, which granted isn’t saying much.

Xiao Xingchen relaxes against him. “Alright. If you say so.”

#song lan has been very busy looking for xxc and so missed all the gossip around the arranged marriage #and he only has his knowledge of the real mxy to base all his conclusions on #asks #sailor-lady #untamed #prompt answers #prompts are closed

570 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 months

Note

Also again no pressure to write but you know I'm a sucker for a happy end and for Lorcan so his sister being mad at him kills me 😭💜😂

I knew you would fall victim to this😂

Part I here

The light we cannot see II

His ego was bigger than he was. Not an amazing asset to have at times. So Lorcan stuck to what he knew best. Beating the life out of a practice dummy as if there was no tomorrow. Letting his anger flow through him. Growling at himself each time the punch didn’t meet his standards. “You will harm yourself”, the voice made Lorcan jolt slightly. His nostrils flared as he looked at the man he least wanted to see. “If I was you I would go the fuck away”, he grunted, turning back to throw another punch.

“She’s back, safe and sound in her room. Thought you might want to know that”, Rowan tapped his hand on the doorway arch, before inching to step out of the training grounds. “Why?”, Lorcan called out into the night. His back was to Rowan but he could tell that the male stalled as well. “Why her? Even more so how and fucking when?”, turning in full force Lorcan glared at the male who was oozing calmness. “I can’t help my heart, I wanted her from the moment I saw her”, Rowan stated firmly. “Is it only your heart?”, it was a low dig. Out of them all Rowan was the last to sleep around. “I haven’t had sex with your sister if that’s your way of asking”, Rowan started, “I’ve been seeing her for a couple of months. She hasn’t even agreed to be mine, not until you approve”. Lrocan swallows thickly. Eyes burning into Rowan. He wanted to hate him. To find nothing but bitter frustration. “You know Maeve and you willingly put her in danger”, Lorcan points a finger at Rowan. “Don’t you think that it keeps me up at night? You think I’m not scared for her?”, now the tone picks up as he steps closer to Lorcan. “News flash, that thought alone kept me away from her for decades but I can’t…”, Rowan’s voice dies down, “I…”, his eyes burn into Lorcan and he knows exactly where this is going. Knows that if that word leaves his mouth then no power will be on his side.

“I think she’s my mate”, Rowan runs a hand through his hair. And Lorcan can see the tremor there. “She doesn’t know and I won’t just drop it on her but… I… Put yourself in my shoes, Lorcan”, Rowan shakes his head. Lorcan closes his eyes letting his head drop. The silence stretches between them. “She is the only good thing that came out of our fucked up family, Rowan”, the males stand there looking at each other, “She is too good for this world, and if you…”, “I would rather take my own life than watch her hurt”, Rowan cuts in, “I love your sister. I want to give her everything”. Lorcan simply nods. “I hate you, for now at least”, the dark wielder point out, dropping his gloves he slips out of the training room.

He stands outside your door for almost an hour. Losing the number of times he had lifted his fists to knock on your door and backed out. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t take back the things he says. He’s never wrong. But it’s different when it comes to you. “For fuck sake, just come in”, the door swings open, your tiny frame barely filling the frame. “How did you…”, he trails off before his sibling instinct prickles as well. A gift your mother had left you on her dying bed.

“What do you want?”, you grunt, crossing your arms over your chest. “I talked with Rowan”, he hopes that would win him extra words to say before you’re kicking him out but your expression doesn’t change. “I’m sorry about what I said”, he sighs, “I… I shouldn’t have brought our mother’s fate into this. You’re not her and Rowan isn’t our father”, he states firmly. Your sadness crushed his soul as he watched your sad eyes. “I understand your fears but…”, you trail off shaking your head.

“I know and I am sorry”, he reaches out, pulling at your hand, “You know that I’m a bastard. I suck at communicating”. You huff, “Tell me about it”, “I just want you to be happy and if Rowan makes you happy then so be it”, Lorcan squeezes your hand. “I’m still pissed at you”, you point a warning finger at him before letting yourself be pulled into his arms. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share my light with anyone else”, Lorcan kisses the top of your head. “Just because I found a partner doesn’t mean I’ll stop being your little sister”, you reach up flicking his nose. Lorcan rolls his eyes, “Maybe I should just ship you out to Rowan”, you let out a fake gasp, “Don’t threaten me with happiness”.

#rowan whitethorn tog #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn imagine #rowan x reader #rowan imagine #lorcan salvaterre x oc #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan salvaterre imagine #lorcan x reader #lorcan imagine #lorcan tog #tog imagine #tog x reader #tog x oc #throne of glass x you #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass imagine

59 notes · View notes

akashis-waifu · 8 months

Text

An Eternity of Mind Games with You (Aizen Sousuke x Reader)

Canon-divergence one-shot, set years after TBYW. Female reader is the Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough. Your first name is "Hana" for plot-purposes.

Tags: Domestic!Aizen with usual sass, wholesome, fluff, cringe but we embrace it. Immortal x immortal, enemies struggling with new established co-dependency. This might seem slightly out of character, but we've got Kyoka Suigetsu to blame. Contains spoilers on the ending of TBYW and CFYOW!

"Oh please, dear wife."

You raise an eyebrow at your self-proclaimed husband. The two of you have only been together for a decade as Lord and retainer — co-rulers, if you squint hard enough — after Aizen Sousuke tricked you into absorbing the Hougyoku, which apparently had long merged with his spirit. In effect, the man became a part of the Soul King and is now able to use your authority, as long as you agree to it.

In return, you get to wield one of the greatest Zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu. You see it as an absolute win, the Central 46 doesn't.

As to why Aizen insists that you two are husband and wife, he argues that "A system where a man and a woman govern together is called monarchy. And it goes without saying that a King and a Queen are married." He seems to have put the cart before the horse, a very uncharacteristic blunder for the renowned war criminal. You simply guess that the fusion might have caused him brain damage.

"I swear, I haven't used Kyoka Suigetsu for a long time. There is literally no reason for you to act delusional."

He feigns to be hurt at your words. "You are the king, I am the queen. How can we not be married?"

"It's crazy how you easily admit to being the queen now." During your ascension, you had to repeatedly remind him that the Soul King was you. If he insisted on his god-complex-driven monarchy delusion, the Queen would be him.

Aizen shrugs. "As the human saying goes, let me cook."

Chills run down your spine. Something is wrong. "Maybe I'm the delusional one."

"Took you a long time to realize."

A shattering sound awakens you. After adjusting to reality, you glare at Aizen Sousuke who has successfully swiped the two Heavenly Tickets out of your hand.

"Please stop using Kyoka Suigetsu on me."

He chuckles mockingly. "You have a funny mind, I can't help it."

You try to take the tickets from him. Those are your mode of transportation to Seireitei! "It's Rukia's inauguration today. We really need to go!"

"You can go by yourself."

"I can't leave you here alone!"

Aizen smiles. He knows that it is a matter of distrust — that he might destroy the Soul Palace in your absence — but teases you nonetheless. "What a caring wife you are."

"Is the illusion not over yet?"

"My apologies. I'm simply not in the mood to head to Seireitei today," he explains briefly, before turning around. "Feel free to go without me."

You watch with curious eyes as Aizen leaves the room. He has undoubtedly mellowed out compared to 10 years ago. Memories flash through your mind.

At the end of the war, you were supposed to absorb Yhwach, become the Soul King, and be sacrificed as the new linchpin of the Three Realms. If Aizen hadn't given you the Hougyoku that granted your divinity as the Soul King, you wouldn't have gained the authority to banish Hyosube Ichibe.

If it weren't for Aizen, you would've been mutilated into a thoughtless doll. You may not express it, but you are eternally grateful to him.

Standing at the edge of the Soul Palace, you stare at the boundless sky below. It is almost time for your departure.

"He tells me to go by myself, but he knows I hate jumping all the way down to Soul Society. He could have at least returned my ticket to me." You sigh and jump anyway.

Upon arriving at Seireitei, you use Kyoka Suigetsu to disguise yourself as a white butterfly. You dispel the Shikai after reaching the 13th Division.

"Hana-san! Ah, I mean, Soul King!" Kuchiki Rukia hastily corrects herself. She then invites you to a celebratory dinner and you spend some time with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

The party ends late. Rukia offers the Kuchiki residence for you to spend the night in, but you decline, worried that someone might wreak havoc in your palace if left alone for too long.

She suggests to escort you to Shiba Kuukaku's hideout, aware that you would need the cannon to return to the Soul Palace. Still, you refuse, "No no! No need. It's already late, Rukia, go to sleep. I usually disguise myself as a harmless butterfly when I go around Seireitei to avoid unnecessary attention. Don't worry!"

On the way to the hideout, you feel that you're being followed. You instantly regret declining her offer.

When Aizen finds you in the middle of Seireitei, you are already bleeding from a large cut on your torso. He rushes to your side and activates the Hougyoku to accelerate your healing. As if to laud his effort, you soon regain consciousness.

"Aizen...?" you ask, vision still blurry. "What are you doing here? I... I thought you didn't want to go."

"You're not adept at using Kyoka Suigetsu yet. An incident like this is bound to happen."

"I see," you chuckle weakly. "No wonder she saw through my disguise."

His grip on your shoulder tightens. "Who was it?"

"Candace."

"Candace?"

You cough out blood multiple times and reach out to caress his cheek, as if ready to utter your last words — which would be if he doesn't take the joke lightly.

"Can deez nuts."

Aizen deadpans. A shattering sound takes him out of his reverie, and he looks over his shoulder to see you fiddling with the tickets that he had previously hidden in his sleeves.

Of course, the whole farce was an illusion. He should've known since the Hougyoku grants instant regeneration. He sighs in annoyance. "I'd like to take the Hougyoku back. You're too insufferable."

"Is that a request for divorce?"

He smirks. "So, you acknowledge our marriage."

"Hell no!" You click your tongue, frustrated that he always has the perfect comebacks. "Can't you act normal for once? What happened to Aizen Sousuke, the war criminal?"

"You prefer that version of me?" He pushes his hair back. You aren't used to that sight since he always has his hair down when you're alone together.

You visibly cringe. "Stop doing that. What would you do if people recognized you?"

"We're using Kyoka Suigetsu. From their perspective, we are nothing but butterflies attracted to beautiful flowers basking in the moonlight."

You frown at him. "We're literally walking on concrete. Not a single flower can be found here."

"There is."

Aizen raises your chin, staring directly into your eyes. "Hana."

Too stunned to speak, you allow yourself a moment to think.

You finally understand why Aizen was so popular when he was still with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. His strength, intellect, charisma — the sultry voice and handsome features that you will never admit to his face — he used everything at his disposal to manipulate everyone.

It will never work on you, though. Not today, nor in a million years.

You are good, he is evil. You are yang, he is yin.

You are pure, he is corrupted.

The Soul King can never let Aizen Sousuke dye Her in his color, for that would mean the end of the Three Realms.

You give him a thin smile. "Would you like the Hougyoku back? I can hand it to you now."

"Oh, you jest." Aizen feels the sudden shift in mood and lets you go. That's enough teasing, he muses to himself.

With an eternity to look forward to, he doesn't mind biding his time. You are the Soul King, the strongest, most benevolent, and most dangerous being in the Three Realms. It goes without saying that you are the greatest challenge he will ever face. It could take hundreds or thousands of years — even millions — but he knows that you will submit to him one day.

It's not a matter of if, but when.

You extend a hand at him. "Let's go home, Sousuke."

But, he has to make sure you don't win him over first.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen x reader #bleach imagines #bleach tybw #also posted this in Ao3 #I WAS POSSESSED BY KYOKA SUIGETSU WHEN I WROTE THIS I APOLOGIZE #i'm also sorry for the person i'd become when they animate “welcome to my soul society” in TYBW #AWOO AWOOOOO #it's bleach #aizen sosuke

113 notes · View notes

pearlfeline · 1 year

Text

in denial

pairing: draco malfoy x reader (supposed to be gender neutral pls lmk if there’s something i missed lol)

word count: 1,079 words

summary: speculations of draco being a death eater are something you deny without a second thought. nothing convinced you until he tells you himself.

warnings: minor violence??? nothing crazy idk if it counts as violence

a/n: severely ran out of ideas and idk what this is i made it out of frustration. WOOOOOO!!!!

Condensation trickled down the outside of your cup. You eyed it until it went all the way down, seeping into the wooden table.

“Cold butterbeer..” Hermione said with a small grin, sitting across from you. “Quite the choice, considering how it’s been practically freezing these past few days.”

“I like to chew on the blended ice.” You shrugged, smiling to yourself at how much Hermione considers your condition.

Hermione eyes you for a moment, pursing her lips almost as if she was holding back a question. If her thinking face was any more expressive, you could call yourself a mind reader.

“What is it now?” You didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help but to huff out an exasperated sigh.

Hermione immediately shakes her head.

“I could be asking you that very question!”

“Where’s your mind at, Y/N?”

You look out the windows of The Three Broomsticks, hoping to catch a glimpse of Draco walking by, perhaps him even staring back at you. But he wouldn’t. Not this year. This was the year he dropped his prefect duties, was no longer right behind Hermione in his marks, and he stopped boasting about nonsensical things.

“You won’t like the answer… I’m sure of it.” You mumbled, taking a big swig from your glass.

“I didn’t ask because I wanted to hear something I like.” Hermione sighed.

Hermione knew if you were to hold back now, you would never reveal it later. There weren’t many times where Hermione and you get a lot of time without Harry and Ron. It’s either you tell Hermione or tell nobody.

“I think something’s wrong… with Draco.”

Hermione stiffened slightly, not entirely sure if she should remind you that he didn’t need your concern, or just listen to you to elaborate. “Well..?”

“All these years of teasing and torment… Just for it to end now.. I just don’t understand. He just looks so bleak.”

“I do agree with your last point, but I’m not sure if it’s anything to confront him about.” Hermione looks around before lowering her voice.

“On the train to Hogwarts, Harry was convinced Draco has become… a Death Eater.” She looks up with apologetic eyes.

“That’s nonsense.” You immediately reply.

“I said the same thing Y/N. But on the off chance that he is.. you know, you shouldn’t go following him anymore. For everyone’s safety.”

You could only feel something sink in what felt like an infinite pit in your chest.

“I know you’re friends… but just consider everything he’s done to everyone… to us..” Hermione takes your silence as a partial agreement. “If he’s not a Death Eater, he’s just cruel.”

Hermione’s words stuck to you all evening. Maybe his silence was a blessing in disguise. There was no more bullying and his friends weren’t being ordered around for the first time in nearly a decade.

Even if you were completely convinced, you had a feeling that one glance at Draco would make you go after him.

Its been a little while after your conversation with Hermione and you’ve been skipping all meals in the Great Hall. You’ve asking people to bring food back to the dorm so you could have “uninterrupted study time”. You knew if you saw Draco in the Great Hall you would disobey Hermione.

You couldn’t hide for all eternity however, so you waited until dark to use the bathroom.

No one occupied the hallway. At least in front of you.

“It’s after curfew.” Draco’s voice sounded as if he hadn’t drank any water for a week.

You quickly turn around. He looked horrible. It might’ve been the first time you’ve ever seen him sweat.

“You’re not a prefect anymore are you?” You quipped.

“Obviously.” He turns around, sauntering away.

You inhale sharply, picking up the pace to catch up with him.

Draco doesn’t acknowledge you behind him.

“Where are you going this late? The dorms are the other way”

Draco, after hearing you, reroutes himself. He heads for the doors, all without sparing you a glance.

Your cheeks grew hot with anger.

You follow after him far enough away for him not to notice. Both of you were weaving through the hallways like snakes digging through sand. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his destination. You could’ve audibly scoffed at where he chose to hide.

He leans over the railing with a permanent wince plastered over his face. It was so intense you could probably see from the back of his head.

“Really?” You angrily stomp up the steps.

Draco jumps at your voice, almost folding in half from the disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He growled. “Get out of here NOW!”

“Shut up!” You interrupt. Draco’s eyebrows raise, attempting to hide the surprise on his face. He quickly regains his posture, as if he expected that.

“You don’t get to decide to be nice to me, then go back to being a little shit!”

“Why do I have to be the fool for advocating for you when you go around acting like a twat?!” You swing the small bag you had brought with you with your toothbrush and other toiletries.

Draco grabs your arm. “Shut up!” He said in a way that was almost a hiss of a wild animal. He angrily lets go of your arm. “Stop bothering me NOW. I know you don’t care about me being mean to you. You kept following me all these years because you’re just- you treat everyone this way.. but I’m going down a path you can’t follow.” His voice quivers. “If you keep showing up like this you’ll die. Leave me alone before you mess everything up. You’re not going to help no matter what, like you think you can. So just go back to bed and pretend you never saw me. GO.” He shoves you once and when he sees you don’t budge, he pushes you harder until you fall.

He flinches but quickly composes himself and turns around.

You, left to your own devices, slowly get up and pat down your pajamas. He is a Death Eater. They were right. He was just too much of a coward to even properly say it. Yet you were completely convinced of the opposite.

“I hate you.” You spat out before you ran off.

Draco only looks at his wrist watch, biting down on his trembling lip, fighting every urge to ask you for help, for you to make it all better.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #pearlfeline #fanfic #harry potter #draco x y/n #draco fic #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #dracomalfoy

187 notes · View notes

astermath · 1 year

Text

sweet like you🍓pt. 2

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen helps you out with perfecting your pastries to present them to your boss. you spend time getting to know each other in the place he knows best; the kitchen. things take a slight turn when you get back to your apartment.

word count: 3.1K

PART 1

notes: I really enjoy writing carmen tbh, I guess writing him is my way to giving his character some peace outside of his usually extremely stressful life. this got suuuper long im so sorry sdfgshj i got kinda carried away. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

warnings: mentions of suicide/death, addiction, use of alcohol, cursing

Carmen hated nights.

At least during the day, he was forced to do things, be productive, talk to people, keep his mind occupied. But at night, it was just him. Alone with his thoughts. The only thing keeping him company his cynical mind and deranged dreams.

That night was no different.

Carmen woke up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at his chest as he sat up. He nearly gasped for air, and upon noticing how shaky he was, got up to splash his face with cold water. That didn’t help much either, so he went to his balcony (if one could even call it that), and lit a cigarette. The sun was already coming up, and he knew he wasn’t getting much sleep again feeling like this.

He sighed, smoke emitting from his nose as he pulled out his phone. You’d replied already, even given a time. Reading your words made him feel slightly more at ease, slightly more... Real. A reminder of his obligations to the people around him, but also, and he’d never admit this, something to look forward to.

[carmen]: absolutely, see you then

Your next shift went by smoothly, as per usual. The French themed café you worked at had become such a big part of your life, not that you minded, you were in love with it. And as much as she’d deny it, you could tell the owner had taken a liking to you. You heard from the barista that most waitresses would get fired within a month or so, but you’d stuck around for three now.

“She said you have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’... I think you remind her of her younger self.” Your colleague said while pouring out a cup of coffee.

“Right,” you took a tray and readied another order. “You sure you didn’t imagine that? I don’t remember Odette ever saying something nice to me before.”

“Not to your face, no.” She grinned, putting the cup on your tray. “I’m sure you’ll get her to put some of your stuff on the menu, she just has to warm up to it.”

“Yeah, just,” you grabbed the tray, balancing it with ease. “Give me a few decades to work her through that.” You both chuckled as you walked off to continue your work.

Carmen stood across the street, looking through the window of the café. Shit, he was way too early, and that wasn’t even usually like him. He’d left the Beef over to Sydney while he was gone, telling her he had something important to take care of. And although that wasn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t sure she’d agree if she found out he was hanging out at some café.

He slipped into the place rather sneakily, deciding that if he was gonna have to wait, he might as well do it in there. It had been a while since he’d been inside, usually just to get a quick coffee or something, and he’d never paid much attention to the décor before. He was kind of impressed, despite being smack dab in the middle of Chicago, the café had a true Parisian feel too it. Sure, he’d never been to Paris, but he could imagine this was pretty close.

He sat down at a booth near a window and stared outside. He felt a bit uneasy just... waiting. There were so many things he still had to do, so many debts to pay off, things to consider, to change--

“Carmen? Is that you?”

Your voice snapped him out his train of thoughts, it almost felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. He turned and saw you holding a menu, dressed in a cute dress and an apron.

“Yeah, I uh... Got here a bit too early, my bad.” He gave an apologetic, halfhearted smile.

“It’s no worries,” you handed him the menu. “You can just enjoy a coffee or something while you wait! What would you like?” You pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“Oh, uh... Christ...” His eyes squinted as he scanned the laminated menu. “Am I goin’ crazy or is this all in French?”

“Nope,” You chuckled. “It is. When I told you the menu hadn’t changed, I meant really, nothing has changed.”

“Fuck, alright, uhm... Just a regular coffee then.” He handed the menu back. “Please.”

“Comin’ right up!” You chirped, and he watched you make your merry way back into the kitchen. He could’ve sworn you damn near floated by how excited you seemed. He didn’t really understand it. You worked a waitress job where you weren’t allowed to change anything, you had to work early on Saturdays to help your family out and he could have guessed you probably still had time to maintain a healthy social life. It almost annoyed him how well balanced you seemed.

But someone as cute as you couldn’t possibly annoy him.

He received his coffee not long after, thanking you and admiring the porcelain for a moment. The more he noticed about this place, the more... Uneasy he felt. He didn’t realize why, and he kept mulling it over until long after he’d finished his drink.

Ah.

Because the Beef looked like a garbage dump compared to this.

And he owned that garbage dump.

He hated himself a little for comparing the two, they weren’t comparable at all besides both serving food and drinks, but the fact that you were only two blocks away didn’t help. And he was about to be helping you too, his competition.

The crew would kill him if they knew where he was at.

You worked on closing up, cleaning a few last cups and arranging them neatly before walking back to Carmen’s table. “Hope you enjoyed your coffee my good sir, but I must request you to join me in the kitchen, for I have prepared a mighty array of desserts for thou.” You grinned.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He got up, ready to follow. “Don’t I gotta pay for that coffee?”

“S’on the house. Come on, we’ve got pastries to try!”

The kitchen closely resembled the rest of the establishment, although much more homely. It was small, doable, but just a little cramped.

You pulled out two stools for the two of you to sit on, before going to the fridge and taking out a tray. “Alright, so...” You put it down on the counter. “Here we’ve got classic cheesecake with a cinnamon cookie crust,” you pointed at each dessert, “a cream strawberry tart, and last but not least,” your fingers fluttered in a ‘jazz hands’ way, “tiramisu topped with fresh strawberries.”

Carmen scanned the tray before him. The presentation was immaculate, but he found that often with these types of desserts the looks were better than the taste. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

You sat across him, more nervous than you initially expected to be, as he tried each of the desserts. He had some notes about each one, as expected, you were just an amateur cook, but you could tell his eyes lit up a little when he tried the tiramisu.

“Mm,” He hummed, putting his spoon back in for another bite. “Shit, that’s fire chef...”

“Chef?” You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever called you that before.

“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Freudian slip, my bad.”

You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t mind... The tiramisu is a family recipe, actually. My nana used to make it all the time.” A nostalgic smile graced your face.

“Those are usually the best.” He thinks back at the food him and Mikey used to make when they were younger, and somehow, it makes the tiramisu taste even better. “So, anything else you wanna add?”

“Oh!” You were a little caught off guard by his question. “Uhm, well... Now that you mention it, I’d love to add macarons, to play into the French theme of the café. I’ve just never been able to get them right, and trust me, I’ve tried.”

Carmen puts away the empty glass cup. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Huh?” You were sure you misunderstood at first, but the look he gave you was telling you he was at least expecting an answer. “Uh... Sure, yeah! I’d love to! I think we still have all the ingredients here from my last attempt too.”

“Great.” He got up, clasping his hands together. “Let’s get to bakin’, chef.”

The two of you stood next to each other at the counter. His jacket was off, now replaced with a baby pink frilly apron, supposedly the only one you had. You’d been relatively quiet, mostly focusing on taking his advice and following instructions. But as he was sifting almond powder, and you were beating egg whites, he had this strange urge to fill the silence. It was weird, usually he preferred working quietly, but it was almost strange to hear you not talking when you were there.

“So... You’re not from Chicago, are you?” He kept his eyes on the sifter.

You grinned, still whisking away. “What gave it away?”

“You smile a lot,” he took the bowl from you and held it upside down to check the consistency of the egg whites, “and I haven’t seen you light a single cigarette.” He put the bowl back and started weighing off some sugar. “So either you’re not from here, or I want whatever drugs you’re taking.”

You chuckled at his remark, finding his self deprecating humor quite amusing. “No, you’re right. I grew up on my parents’ farm, though it’s not too far from here, I never really came close to the city. Moved here about three months ago, so I haven’t explored much.” You took the sugar from him and gradually started adding it to the egg whites. “What about you? Born and raised?”

“What gave it away?” He joked back. “Born, raised, moved away for culinary school, worked in New York, now I’m back.” He sighed. Being back in Chicago was... Strange. Because after not having seen his brother for literal years, he was now constantly confronted with everything that reminded him of Mikey. Including his business.

“Interesting.” You started working together the mixture, sneaking glances at his face every now and then to gage his reaction. “So... What brought you back?”

A longer silence followed your question, and you could tell his hands even stopped moving for a moment. Suddenly he seemed tense, and you worried if your question had struck a cord.

He swallowed, eyes fixated on the ingredients before him. “My brother.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure he’s happy to see you back.” You offered a kind smile.

“Yeah, I uh... I’m not sure he would be.” He glanced at you, eyes quickly darting back to the vanilla extract he was measuring out, uncomfortable with eye contact when he talked about Mikey. “He died.” His eyebrow twitched slightly. “Suicide.”

You stop whisking for a moment to look at him, and you can tell his face had reddened. You feel awful for pressing him on such a sensitive subject, but you had no idea.

The two of you continue to prepare the batter in complete silence for a good minute. Both of you feel bad. Him, for dumping this information on you, and you, for even asking about it.

“I’m sorry,” you speak up, filling up a piping bag with batter, “I had no idea.”

“S’okay,” He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous tic, almost. “I’ve been trying to talk more about it. Especially since I kinda run his business now.”

“Well, if it counts for anything,” You give him another sweet smile, and this time, it does actually make him feel a little better. Silently, he wished they could put the feeling your smiles gave in pills, so he could take those instead. “I think he’d be proud of you.”

He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know what Mikey would think, and from what he’s heard from Richie, he’s not even sure if he would recognize the person his brother had become through his addiction. But the possibility is there, and you reminding him of it was enough. For now, at least.

He noticed you struggling with the piping bag and got behind you, hands sneaking over yours to help you hold it correctly. “There we go.”

Carmen doesn’t seem to notice how close he is to you. Or how warm your face had gotten. Or how the way he smelled was distracting you from listening to what he was saying. Cigarettes, coffee and sandalwood... A strange, but not unappealing mix of scents.

You turn your head just a slight bit and catch a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were so bright, piercing almost, but they held such a profound sadness behind them. You wondered what else they held, what other stories he struggled to talk about.

Carmen noticed you weren’t watching what you were doing and looked up, accidentally meeting your eyes now. And then he realized how close he was, cheeks growing flushed like a teenage boy as he let go of your hands and took a step back, clearing his throat. “Shit, uh... My bad.”

You chuckled nervously. “It’s fine, I appreciate the help.” You leaned down to preheat the oven.

“Yeah… Anytime.”

A while after, the two of you were presented with perfect, pink tinted macarons. You smile proudly, hands on your hips as you admire the final product in front of you. “Man, we really nailed those, huh?”

Carmen smiles, a little sleepily. It was starting to get dark outside and he hadn’t even had dinner yet, but he felt bad about having to interrupt your baking session. Usually when he was in the kitchen he was focused, collected, he was making a product that he had to be proud of. But he’d been open to you, he’d laughed, he almost felt… Relaxed. Maybe that’s why he was feeling sleepy.

That, or the insane lack of sleep was catching up to him once more.

You looked outside and noticed that the sun was going down. “Shit, how long have we been here?” You checked the time on your phone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it already got this late... Uh, if you want I’ll drive you home?”

“Yeah, that would be--” His sentence got cut off by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment as Carmen put a hand over his abdomen, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I uh... I haven’t eaten anything today besides those desserts earlier.”

Now you really felt guilty. Not only had you kept him at the café for way longer than you should have, but you were nearly making the poor guy starve. “Tell ya what,” You handed him his jacket and took off your apron. “How ‘bout you come back to my apartment and I’ll make us both dinner. I’m no expert chef like you, but I can cook a mean pasta!”

He hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t been to someone else’s apartment in so long, let alone someone he was interested in. But he supposed it was better than being alone in his apartment again, probably heating up a shitty frozen meal because he was too tired to cook.

Your apartment was nice. Well, nicer than his at least, although that probably didn’t mean much. For only having lived there for three months, he could tell you’d really added your own touch to the place.

“Welcome to mi casa!” You playfully bowed, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind you two. You tossed your keys onto the counter and took off your coat, ready to get to cooking. “You can settle on the couch, put something on, I got Netflix if you want. I’ll have dinner made in just a sec!”

Carmen moved with caution. This was... Unknown territory. He knew you were probably just being friendly, but this was a pretty big step for him. He had his boundaries, his walls firmly set, and you were jumping over them like it was nothing. It was just... Easier with you, somehow. To open up, to talk.

Not long after he’d chosen something to watch, you arrived with two deep plates of pesto pasta with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. “There we go, I always make this when I don’t feel like cooking.” You handed him a plate and a fork, before settling down next to him. Your couch wasn’t that big, so your shoulders were touching the entire time.

The two of you were watching a cooking competition, something you didn’t realize would revitalize Carmen so much. Not because he liked it so much, but because he was so focused on the mistakes the contestants were making, and felt the need to point every single one of them out to you. Your two plates stood empty on the coffee table, along with a bottle of red wine and two, very empty glasses.

“Now, see this,” he pointed at the TV, “can’t believe they’re even allowed to air this, this is a disgrace to cooking. The fuckin’ idiot hasn’t touched a single spice this entire episode!”

The both of you were both kind of tipsy, and you were leaning against him now, smiling to yourself as you tried to withhold laughter from every serious comment he made.

“And now--” He looked at you and realized you were hanging on for dear life not to break out in giggles. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a grin.

“N-Nothing, nothing!” You chuckled, leaning away from him so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“Ah, so now we’re shy!” He poked your side, the wine doing wonders for his confidence. “Come on, let’s hear those laughs then!” He continued poking you, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. You grabbed his arm and pulled it away from your abdomen, making him fall forward onto the couch. He caught himself, hand resting on the armrest, now leaning over you.

You looked up at him, and god, maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you swore he’d never looked hotter. Leaned over you, curls framing his face, strong arms surrounding you. His gorgeous blue eyes staring down into yours, tension growing between the two of you.

So you couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his head to pull him in further.

He froze, eyes only fluttering shut after a few seconds, melting into the kiss as his hand came down to rest on your waist. His mind ran blank, nothing plaguing his mind anymore, all besides one thought;

“Damn. She tastes even sweeter than those strawberries.”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill

#aster writes the bear #carmenmath #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white imagine

348 notes · View notes

beanjang-draws · 6 months

Text

Plague Ponies - Research

CONTENT WARNINGS: no gore

Previous | Next

Summary:

Twilight doesn’t want to admit it, but things in Equestrian haven’t been in tip-top shape recently. It looks like even Princess Celestia has judged that the news cycle has been too grim as of late, as she’s instructed Twilight not to make a public statement about the number of ponies who fell ill after the Everfree attack.

With the help of her number one assistant, Twilight tries to figure out how exactly to quietly prep for an epidemic when they both remember: Granny Smith is super old! She must know what to do? Wait, Pinkie? What are you doing here?!

Twilight and Pinkie end up going to Sweet Apple Acres together, where Twilight is given a book that just might contain the answers she needs. Now to decide her next course of action…should she go back to the orchard and head home now, or should she indulge for just a second in Apple Bloom’s request to check on her project?

Transcript below:

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’ll send word immediately if anything changes.

Greymare: Of course, Princess. We appreciate your generosity. Everything should be ready within the week.

Twilight: Of course. If you’re in need of any more funds, tell the distributors to contact me.

Doctor Greymare bids his farewells to Princess Twilight and takes his leave. Twilight heads back inside the library, where Spike is looking on with concern.

Spike: Twilight…are you sure we shouldn’t tell everypony now? If everypony in Ponyville really is infected, shouldn’t they all know?

Twilight Sparkle: I don’t like delaying things either, Spike, but you read Princess Celestia’s letter out yourself. Our priority is to avoid panic until we know we can answer their inevitable questions.

Spike: I guess that makes sense…hearing about another disaster after the last string of disasters would make everypony totally freak out!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike!

Spike: What? Im agreeing with you! It’s a bad idea to tell everypony about an epidemic after a discord came back, got better, accidentally caused the princesses’ kidnappings, delayed the Summer Sun Celebration—

Twilight Sparkle: SPIKE

Spike lets up after Twilight’s outburst, looking amused as she takes a breath to collect herself.

Twilight Sparkle: Maybe things haven’t been the most…stable, lately, but the princesses have everything under control. Plus, I’ve been reading up on epidemiology and it’s normal for new pathogens to crop up every few decades. We just have to be prepared for them!

Spike: Oh, perfect! You’re the most prepared pony I know!

Twilight loses her composure entirely.

Twilight Sparkle: BUT I’M NOT PREPARED! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF PONYVILLE NOW, BUT I CAN’T EVEN KEEP IT SAFE. ALL I’VE DONE IS LEARN TO FLY AND MEMORIZE PRINCESS ETIQUETTE. THAT’S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYPONY!

Spike: Hey, you’ve been busy saving all of Equestria! You didn’t prepare for that either, but it went fine in the end because of your friends.

Twilight Sparkle: I guess so…

Spike: If these diseases pop up every now and then, Ponyville must have had some experience with this sort of thing before. You just finished talking to Doctor Greymare, right? Maybe he could help.

Twilight Sparkle: That’s just the thing, Spike. He said he hasn’t heard of anything like this before, at least not while he’s been running the hospital.

Spike: Is there anypony who might know what happened before him?

Twilight Sparkle: You would have to be ancient to remember anything further back than that. You’ve have to be…

The cogs in Twilight’s head begun to turn, and she and Spike come to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Twilight Sparkle and Spike: Somepony old like Granny Smith!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, you’re a genius!

Spike: Bah, this is just a run of the mill performance from your number one assistant.

Twilight Sparkle: We should head to Sweet Apple Acres right now—

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bursts in out of nowhere.

Pinkie Pie: TWILIGHT!!!! SOMETHING BIG IS COMING!!!!!!! THE FATE OF PONYVILLE DEPENDS ON IT

Spike: Pinkie, could you bring down the volume a little? My ears have been sensitive lately…

Pinkie Pie: Oh, sorry, Spike! The fate of Ponyville depends on it!

Spike: Thanks

Twilight Sparkle: Is it your Pinkie sense? Can you feel something bad coming?

Pinkie Pie: Yes! It’s big! Huge! Even bigger and huger than the time you believed in my Pinkie sense!

Spike: Wow, that IS big.

Twilight Sparkle: Well, if it’s so serious, we should tell everypony to stay indoors for the time being.

Pinkie Pie: Waaay ahead of you, Twilight! I already warned everypony not to take any unnecessary journeys on the way here.

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you Pinkie, you’ve saved us a lot of time. Now we can—

Pinkie Pie: —consult Granny Smith for her firsthoof account on Ponyville’s history of health and safety protocols?

Twilight Sparkle: …I won’t even ask. Yes, Pinkie, we’re doing just that.

Pinkie Pie: That’s a great idea, Twilight! Lead the way :3

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, let’s get to Sweet Apple Acres.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle begin to clear out to head to the farm. Twilight notices Spike hasn’t made moves to join them, so she sticks her head back inside to check on him.

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, aren’t you coming?

Spike: You know, Twilight, if staying indoors is so important, I think I’d better stay here and…make sure Owlowicious doesn’t go wandering around while you’re gone.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, number one assistant! I’m leaving the library under your watch. We shouldn’t be gone too long.

It looks like most Ponyville Residents have caught wind of Pinkie’s warnings! Twilight and Pinkie only see a few ponies out and about on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. this far out, the news hasn’t yet reached the Apples, who are occupied with a busy apple bucking season.

Applejack: Howdy y’all! What brings you down to the farm?

Pinkie Pie: My Pinkie sense has been going off all morning! Im not sure what this one means!

Twilight Sparkle: But I think I could figure it out. AJ, could I talk to Granny Smith?

Applejack: Sure thing! She shouldn’t have hunkered down for her afternoon nap just yet.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, girls, I’ll be right back.

Pinkie Pie: I’ll stay with Applejack and lend a hoof with the apples!

Applejack: You know what, that’d be mighty helpful of you, Pinkie! Big Mac’s been sick, so I’ve been buckin’ these trees all on my own!

Twilight goes off to see Granny Smith on her own.

Twilight Sparkle: Hello, Granny Smith! Sorry to barge in on you like this..

Granny Smith: Not at all, dearie. In fact, you ought to visit more often! I hear so much about you from Apple Bloom, you really should stay for supper one of these days and tell us about your lessons yourself!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. I’ll make sure to visit more often. Unfortunately, I didn’t come by just to say hi today. I actually did have a few questions for you.

Granny Smith: Of course! Ask away, dear, I’m all ears.

Twilight Sparkle: Have there ever been any emergency health and safety protocols in Ponyville?

Granny Smith: Emergency what now?

Twilight Sparkle: Have there been any outbreaks of sickness in Ponyville in the past? Did the town have a way of dealing with them?

Granny Smith: Oh! You just mean the plague ponies. Hold on dear, I know I’ve got a book back here somewhere…it’s been sitting collecting dust! A sign of better times, I reckon…now if only I could find it…

Granny Smith begins rummaging around the house looking for the aforementioned book.

Twilight Sparkle: I think this might be just the thing I need! I haven’t heard of plague ponies before. None of my books mention them at all.

Granny Smith: Oh, your fancy city books wouldn’t have anything on this.

Granny Smith returns with a beat up looking book on hoof.

Granny Smith: I knew I still had one laying around!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. Um, what it is?

Granny Smith: It’s a home remedy book! Back when the town was first settling, we had all sorts of sicknesses popping up. Prob’ly from all the different ponies coming together. Without much of a way to reach Canterlot yet, we couldn’t get aid from the big city for any fancy doctor magic.

Twilight Sparkle: Oh…I had no idea that happened.

Granny Smith: Heh-heh…I’m not surprised they didn’t teach you this in your Canterlot history classes…What city pony aid we lacked, we made up for in home remedies. We each of us came together and pooled our knowledge in books like these. Here, you take this. This one’s got some of my own notes in it. Maybe you could add your own!

Twilight Sparkle: I couldn’t possibly take this from you! It’s a part of your history…

Granny Smith: It’s yours, too. And it’s doing nopony any good collecting dust with me. Just promise me to read every bit of it.

Twilight Sparkle: …Thank you, Granny. I will.

Granny Smith: Alright, now I’m off to hit the hay. Apple Bloom, you should show Twilight your plant project in the barn!

Granny Smith turns to go and take her afternoon nap. Apple Bloom appears, eager to get her turn talking to Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, have you figured out how to get your subjects to multiply?

Apple Bloom: I sure did!! I made the adjustments you told me to and added a little something of my own! You’ve gotta come and see it!!

POLL: Should Twilight go see Apple Bloom’s Project?

RESULT: Yes

End transcript

#aaaand there’s episode 2 #sorry for the weird order ?? but things should be more linear from now on..#plague ponies #mlp infection au #mlp grimdark #mlp #mlp fim #my little pony #my little pony friendship is magic #my art

105 notes · View notes

beatrixstonehill2 · 10 months

Text

"Well, it's 100% official! I'm detransitioning! Just got the email from my college insurance provider. The first two years I was here they actually upped my estrogen to 8mg a day and gave me an aphrodisiac to keep my libido up, so I can stay super feminine and have the sex drive of a lot of cis girls at my sorority. My college offered to give me implants, encouraging me to go bigger than this, but I declined.... My poor cock shrunk to a couple inches. I was so happy with my results. I mean, it was pretty normal for me, I've been socially transitioning since I was a kid, went on blockers, all that. So I never really got to experience being a boy. Guess I have no choice now!

It's not uncommon for these community college insurance plans to change medication. My last roommate was put on Femruptarin.... I'll leave you to guess why she's not my current roommate! lol I got up a few days ago to fill my script, they said it was denied. I read my insurance update and it said I'm due for a doctor's visit. I needed approval for a new script. Like..... oh boy, I know where this is headed! Went to the doctor and got a new guy, he called me by male pronouns to his nurse, who giggled every time. He said my body desperately needs testosterone, and it's 'embarrassing' what my parents did to me. He said I need to join the frat house and clear up this mistake immediately that I was allowed to enroll as a girl. He told me I need to go on a high dose of T, steroids, AND dick growth pills, and to start hitting the gym so I can shed my ridiculous-looking, girly body. He gave me the usual spiel you hear trans girls say on TikTok, that I'm not a girl and I need to embrace being a guy. That I don't pass as a girl at all and it was very obvious I was male.....

I looked up the drugs he put me on and it's such a high dose of T and steroids it would turn anyone into a sex-crazed lunatic. At least I know what I'm getting myself into, I guess. Every TikTok I looked up about this stuff was some super gorgeous trans girl turning into a pea-brained muscled-up jock. Sitting around jerking off to porn all day, unable to say anything to girls except extremely inappropriate, perverted stuff. Looks like my poor girly brain will be warped into a guy that only thinks with his cock, unable to think or have any interests outside of fucking pretty college girls with big bellies full of kids and huge milky tits. I dunno, sounds kind of fun. I've been a girl since forever so this might be fun! Plus, it'll be nice to not be on the receiving end of getting my brains fucked out for once. I swear I can barely sit down some days in class these dudes fuck me so hard.....

So, wanna watch me shoot up my first T shot? I know you do. This is soooo exciting. I can't believe I'm actually getting detransed like all those girls you see online in those super hot before and afters! Well, maybe I was kind of hoping I'd get detransed, just a bit. Just hearing that doctor call me a confused boy with plastic-stuffed pecks was one of the biggest turn ons of my life. I just nodded and agreed with everything he said, blushing as he and the nurse made fun of me for pretending to be a girl. I've learned my lesson, I can't wait to savor this wonderful shot of T, then maybe hit the gym. I've got a lot of dumb, girly curves to burn off and lots of muscle to put on! Oooo, and guess what? My implants are getting removed this weekend. No more boobies, oh well! Not that I ever passed all that well, as the doctor the doctor reminded me! I'm just a delusional boy with implants stuffed in my pecks, not a girl in the slightest.... God, why does saying that make my cock so hard? Guess it proves his point. Mmmmm! Well, sit back and watch me as I shoot this T into my chubby, girly thigh..... In a few months nobody will ever know I lived as a girl for over a decade..... I bet no one will even believe me after I start taking all this stuff and bulking up. The fifteen inch cock will certainly help. ❤️"

#detrans kink #mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink

65 notes · View notes

kifkay · 3 months

Text

Jobs the Winx pick after they’re done adventuring [NewGen au]

the Winx, although still friends and partners, had officially disbanded! now they’re off to their solo adventures. this is an AU, where not all of the Winx-Specialists pairs ended up settling down together - because, let’s be honest, high school sweethearts rarely do.

Stella:

In her mid-to-late thirties, Rhodos abdicates and officially passes down the crown of Solaria to Stella.

Stella and Brandon are still dating and very much in love.

Before becoming Queen, Stella tries out a lot of occupations — she owns a fashion boutique, starts in a couple of (failed) movies, runs a couple of charities which help repatriate Domino survivors.

Once, she even directs a documentary about the Winx and the Specialists. It ends up having very… controversial reviews, but the Team thinks it’s fun.

As queen, Stella advocates for friendly relationships between Solaria and many of the other planets - including Domino, Andros, Zenith. Even Eraklyon, although her and Sky don’t get along much these years.

Her and Brandon foster a girl, Mara, whom Brandon had rescued from a branch of a weird cult that settled in Solaria. Despite previously agreeing to at least hold off on having children, they love Mara to bits and are very protective over her.

Bloom:

Previously: Travelling Architect. Her one true calling. Bloom vastly enjoys being able to travel planet to planet, and come up with breathtaking architectural designs. This also gives her an opportunity to visit her girls more often.

As of now: Domino Palace Archivist. Queen Daphne’s mysterious illness has re-surfaced. Furthermore — it is progressing alarmingly fast. The royal family must be prepared for the worst, and so the second-born princess is called back to the castle urgently. For the next five years, Bloom serves as the Archivist of Domino’s records and history, as well as being low-key groomed to take over the realm - at Daphne’s own insistence.

In that period, Bloom finally moves on from her decade long on-and-off again situationship with Sky. She marries a warlock curse-breaker Saffi, with whom she has a daughter — Vanessa Mari.

Bloom also inherits her mother’s seat in the Company of Light and holds quite an important position there. Helia, who inherited Saladin’s seat, becomes her close ally and friend. Their family spend many weekends together, vacationing on beaches and having picnics.

Flora:

Currently: Guardian Fairy of Linphea, focusing on protecting various eco-systems of her home-world.

She is more of an alchemist and a researcher these days, rather than an active combatant. Flora arrives in places that have been de-stabilised by either extreme bouts of magic or human intervention, and seeks to heal them.

On a mission to a particularly messed up place which reeks of dark magic corruption, Flora meets an old friend — Mirta, who has been commissioned as a dark magic consultant! They get dinner afterwards, and well… it just goes great after that.

Flora is loving being a step-mom to Mirta’s daughter <3

Musa:

She becomes a musician and a singer, like she always wanted. Musa doesn’t reach amassing success, but she has a loyal fan base who love her for her amazing lyricism and vocals.

Tecna serves as her manager for quite some time, until she resigns for… reasons.

Musa was so sure she would marry Riven one of those days - but then he starts acting weird. Distancing himself. Holding secrets. Eventually, the specialist makes a huge spectacle of publicly severing all contact with the Team - and her. They break up, because of course they do.

Then, Riven goes off the grid. Completely disappears.

Time goes by, Musa stops touring and becomes a music composer. Her clientage is huge and spans many planets.

She has two daughters, one son, one husband and one ex (not Riven), who succumbs to a horrible, magically corrupting illness which, seemingly, comes out of nowhere.

Aisha:

Her and Nabu are going strong. She is the crown princess to the throne of Andros and he is her consort.

Being back in the palace of Andros — constantly reminded of horrible treatment and stifling loneliness she has been subjected to as a child — is hard on Aisha.

She starts regressing, becoming more withdrawn from her friends and acquaintances. Aisha is still a rebel at her core, willing to stand up and fight for what she thinks is best — but. she is just. so tired.

Nabu is always at her side. They have happy times; times, when the darkness and the apathy retreat to let Aisha breathe.

Aisha acts as Andros’s ambassador. Her, Stella, Sky and Bloom & Helia (who had both inherited seats in the Company of Light from their parents/grandparent) often work together.

They have two children, Manar and Sagar.

In recent years, Nabu had gotten ill. loosing his energy, his strength, his magic. none of the healers can explain the sudden shift in a seemingly healthy man; they only theorise that he might be suffering previously-latent repercussions of his comma and entanglement with the Dark Circle.

Aisha spirals again and distances herself from everybody but her closest family.

Tecna:

like Stella, Tecna alternated many professions.

throughout their years at Alfea, Tecna - thanks to her well-rounded and all encompassing education in Zenith, which included music theory, - has helped Musa in her artistry. Giving feedback, searching for gigs, sharing artists she might learn from online.

when Musa officially starts her music careers, she asks Tecna to be her manager - to which the girl readily agrees.

Tecna also freelances on the side: developing flying software for the Red Fountaine, writing codes and whatever else she finds interesting. Zenith tries desperately to get her to work for them, but she is not really interested.

Tecna is not interested in any romantic relationships, but stays close with almost all of her friends. Even Riven!

After years of working together, Tecna resigns as Musa’s manager. It’s a clean break and neither is terribly upset: Tecna is Musa’s kids’ godmom, for Dragon’s sakes! They stay close, although Tecna is awfully tight-lipped about her “new project with Timmy”.

The project Timmy and her are working on is — well, neither Internet nor any planet has records on it.

Currently: Tecna is working her way up as a Zenithian lab researcher. She doesn’t seem to be making much headway, but Tecna doesn’t lose hope. Eventually, she’ll get where she needs to be…

The Specialists will be up next! hopefully, the text is coherent enough <3 trying out something new

#winx club #winx headcanons #winx #winx au #winx rewrite #winx newgen #winx bloom #winx brandon #winx flora #winx riven #winx sky #winx specialists #winx stella #winx aisha #winx musa #winx layla #winx tecna #winx timmy #winx helia

35 notes · View notes

renatogpadilla · 5 months

Text

THOUGHTS ON CR3E92 IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

- FIRST EVER CR CROSSOVER EPISODE?!

LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

- Dariax said "This Flute doesn't play itself anymore." Doriax canon offscreen?

- "After all the handjobs, this is what we mean to you?!" Damn... I mean, I'm glad Opal and Cyrus found a way to relieve stress, Gods know they're both stressed, but damn.

- Ending the episode on Opal Twice-Crowned hitting phase 2 of the boss fight was EVIL!

I love it, @quiddie ! I feel like when this gets animated in a decade or so, we'll get this fight and the fight with Otohan Thull overlayed one on top of the other for a Season Finale or something!

- Raven Queen going two for two on Rogues turned Paladin! Which is great, but now I have to replan Morrighan's moveset for that imaginary Critical Role fighting game that only exists in my head (somebody ask me about it please, I NEED to talk about it!) but at least she gets some Smite options out of the Bunny Hop command jump!

- Dariax is a Bard now too! That's honestly so perfect for Matt! And the fact that both Sorcerers and Bards are Charisma Casters makes me feel like the Synergies are gonna be great!

- Oh, Dorian, wonderful blue king... That's a lot of strength that your Dice will never agree to let you use for anything cool. I missed you SO MUCH!

- Speaking of that imaginary CR fighting game, this just solidified Opal as a puppet character. The tag combos with Ted would be WILD! Think Kenshi from MK1!

- Fy'ra Rai... Just... FY'RA RAI! Gods, I've missed Anjali at the table! Her memory with Opal, her tug-of-war with her thoughts about her sister... THE LAVA WHIP! Nothing sexier than Monks! Except a pissed off Wizard or Druid.

- On the other side of the table, I LOVE the moment the girls all collectively remembered they had to break the news to Frida... Oh, that's gonna hurt BAD!

- Anyone else noticed that Ashton is BURNT OUT and laying on the ground after his Titan form wears off, but Fearne just says she's really tired and just KEEPS GOING? Ashton is DONE for now, but Fearne needs to keep moving forward... Fuck, I love these two.

- Orym... Just... Orym. If you take a level in Barbarian after this, I wouldn't blame you.

- Side-Note: This means Dorian DID get Orym's last message before they went to the moon! He just didn't/couldn't answer! Which means, through the static and everything, Dorian COULD hear Orym! And now he's probably gonna get this message once the battle is over... Jesus, if they get to Zephra and Keyleth went to the Lodge next to the lake that's gonna be a problem...

- Side-Note Side-Note: Anyone else hoping to GOD that Allura called the Nein to help? Cause Beau and Caleb were involved, but now it feels like an "All Hands on Deck" situation, and we could use Kingsley's small army of pirates right about now...

- So much happened this episode between the grieving and the flashbacks and the rolling for handjobs that I didn't have time to process the splinter cell of Xhorhasians that split their soul in twain until I woke up... Opal may have forgotten, but maybe Ted hasn't? Though if they're the same person, maybe they both forgot...

- Aabria, the corrupting of the Memories was FOUL, I LOVE IT!!!

- Somebody needs to tell Essek about the soul-splitters. In fact, let's get to that while we deal with Ashton too!

- IF OPAL DIES, AMY CAN COME OVER AS DENI$E! Like, I don't WANT her to die, but Westruun isn't that far... 👀

- I just realized this is the first ever FULL episode of CR without Sam at the table... Fuck, man, when it hurts it hurts. Glad Marisha brought back the fan.

"Forgot the Consonants?" "No Letters." OUCH, MISS RAY, WHAT THE FUCK?!

- Raven Queen Paladins hasting themselves first thing in the fight. Vax is back, and he's a Bunny Girl now!

- I like that the Crownkeepers are a two-way Overwatch reunion (McCree Cassidy and Symmetra) and a three-way Persona 5 reunion (Yusuke, Ann Futaba and Akechi).

- Everything was so fucked this episode that everything with Liliana got knocked to the background for me, THAT'S how good it was!

- The SECOND Evoroa said Ludinos was on Exandria I knew EXACTLY where he would be! Now we HAVE to get the Nein involved, right? Unless the bastard makes the city float again...

I cannot WAIT for the next episode! And if Sam brings a new character when all the groups are together, it would be SPECTACULAR! I'm guessing he's going to play one of the moon races, because that just sounds cool... Either that or Tary!

26 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 10: Leverage

A plan is taking shape but first, you and The Mandalorian need leverage. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-9 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, light smut (FINALLY! Dry humping, just a lot of it). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 7K

The trek to the city wasn’t nearly as long on a speeder bike as it would have been on foot. For one, getting down the mountain was a whole hell of a lot quicker when you could travel straight down and not take it at an easy incline. Din was at the helm and you were wrapped around his waist. You diligently kept your eyes closed, worried that watching the trees that you could hear whizzing past your head would make you sick. Your pack was strapped securely to your back, planning to set up camp just outside the city overnight with Keci joining you both tomorrow.

She’d told you some of what went on in the city, things she suspected weren’t totally legal or were, at least, questionable. You had an idea of where to start after you left your speeder outside the city in a place that seemed safe.

You’d never navigated a city of this size with the Mandalorian by your side. You were used to blending in, taking advantage of being small and unobtrusive, just raising a hood here or putting on a wrap there to help blend in and not jump out as a familiar sight after tailing someone for hours. A Mandalorian didn’t blend in.

Instead, it was like the waters of people flowing down the streets parted for you, giving the armored man a wide berth. When you’d glance back to him, you saw him doing the same thing he’d done on Nevarro - never looking in one direction for too long, always on guard for something to jump out and attack at any time.

After a while of not being able to move through the place the way you liked, you pulled Din aside.

“I think we need to split up for a bit,” you said. You could almost feel him frown at you. It was funny, you’d never seen his face but you were sure he was doing it behind the metal. “You’re a little too… bold. I can’t sneak into anywhere with you here.”

“No one’s taking a shot at you with me here, either,” he replied. “And you can’t collect or do anything with intel if you’re dead.”

“I’m very good at not getting killed when gathering information,” you assured him. You weren’t sure why he seemed to care quite so much. Yes, you were friends now. And there was the added intimacy that came with having traveled together in such close quarters. But this was just part of the job he’d accepted - his code should make it so he’d want to do whatever it took to get it done. “Believe it or not, I did this for years - more than a decade - before I even met you, with way bigger assholes than some Spice runners and gangsters. I’ll be fine.”

He looked around, over your head, for a moment before looking back down to you.

“I don’t like it.”

You sighed.

“I’ll meet you here in three hours,” you said, eyebrows raised as you waited for him to agree.

He looked down at you for a long moment before he sighed.

“Fine,” he pulled a com link off his belt and pressed it to your hand. “Anything happens - and I mean anything - I come get you.”

You gave him a smile, a nod and slipped into the crowd, feeling his eyes on you until he was out of sight.

It was much easier when you didn’t have more than six feet of armor behind you. It only took half an hour of navigating the seedier parts of the city when you easily identified a place that seemed to have a stream of people flowing into a nondescript door. You slipped inside, poking around. It didn’t take long for you to find that it was an underground casino, with sabacc tables and slot machines that looked so old they probably pre-dated the Empire. In the middle, through doors that were heavily guarded, was a fighting ring. You winced as you watched two men brawl. It was painful enough to see them beating each other but it was worse when you realized both men were wearing shock collars. One stopped hitting the other - who lay limp on the mat below him - looking off to an unseen force for permission to step away. You saw the metal at his neck spark and his body seize before he went back to beating the man on the ground.

It was terrible but it’s exactly what you needed. You tried to unobtrusively take a picture.

You worked your way deeper into the establishment, trailing people as they went about their business, listening closely when they said names or mentioned something that sounded like someone had control. You stayed close when you heard the word Spice, doing everything you could to stay unseen, just blend into the background. At one point, you paused at one of the slot machines and pretended to play to listen in on a conversation, one that gave you a specific name. You noted it and stayed close to the person who seemed to know most, following a few paces behind them. You’d thought you’d been doing well until you turned a corner and ran smack into his chest.

“Well, well, well,” the man looked down at you, his head cocked and a smile spreading on his sharp face. “I have a little stalker.”

“I’m sorry,” you stammered in Chandrilan. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m lost, can you help me find my way out?”

He grabbed your face, his fingers digging into your skin, the force enough that it threatened to break your jaw.

“Surely you don’t think I’m that stupid, girl,” he snarled, putting his face close to yours. “I know you were listening. You’ve been slinking through here for hours.”

“I’m sorry,” you switched to Basic, straining to talk around his grip on your face. “I’m just… I’m looking for my dad, OK? He left weeks ago, the money is gone, please, my baby brother is starving and he has a habit of losing everything at the tables. I thought… maybe he’d lost so much that you had him.”

He searched your eyes as though that would tell him the truth. He released your jaw.

“What’s his name?” He asked, pulling a data pad from his side. You blinked.

“Perro Obeu,” you said, making it up on the spot. He entered the name and looked at a list.

“He’s not here,” he said, putting the data pad down. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t be here either.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “Thank you.”

You felt his eyes on you as you left and you tried to move fast enough that you got out before there was trouble but not so fast that you drew further attention to yourself. You paced yourself until you were a few hundred steps from the entrance and you broke into a run, immediately cutting down a road you hadn’t gone done before and grabbing the com link from your pocket.

“Change of plan,” you said into it quickly. “Meet me at the market we passed, east side.”

You flicked it off and shoved it into your pocket before you spotted a spout you could scale on a building. You climbed it quickly, scrambling onto the roof. You stayed put and watched as, a moment later, men from the casino came prowling down the alley. You looked around, spotting the clearest path across the roof line.

“Maker dammit,” you muttered to yourself, steeling yourself before running and jumping onto the next closest building. You stumbled, having to tuck and roll before getting back to your feet and doing it again. You were too short to be really good at this, the distance too great to be really doable for someone with legs your length. The speed you had to move with was reckless, your feet catching and sending you sprawling so much that your hands were scratched and bloodied. Eventually, the market was in view and you went to the edge of the building you were on, looking for something you could climb down. There wasn’t anything you could see, but there was an awning over the entrance to the shop you were on top of that was less than 20 feet down.

“Fuck,” you muttered, climbing over the side of the building, taking a deep breath, and letting yourself drop. You landed with a clatter on the metal, the people on the street looking up at you with shocked expressions, but you didn’t see the men from the casino. The awning, at least, was only 10 feet off the ground, and you jumped off the side of it into the only open ground you could find, pressing through the crowd and waiting until the people who’d seen your acrobatics were out of sight to pull your hood up.

Din found you a minute later, taking your elbow and pulling you onto a quiet side street.

“What in the Maker was that?” He demanded.

“I picked up a tail,” you replied with a sigh, lowering your hood. “But I think I ditched them…”

Something about his demeanor changed, his whole body suddenly rigid. You frowned as his hand slowly, gently, went to your chin. He turned your face so he could see your skin in different lights, the hand not touching you slowly clenching into a fist.

“Who did this?” He asked. You frowned deeper.

“Did what?”

“Hurt you,” it sounded as though he was straining to speak through gritted teeth. “There are bruises on your face. Who did it.”

“Oh,” you winced. “Yeah, I drew some unwanted attention just before I picked up the tail. It’s nothing, and definitely worth it because I got good intel. I have enough leverage, I think…”

“I should have gone with you,” he cut you off. You drew back, surprised. “No one would have done this if I was there.”

“I’ve had way worse than some bruising,” you said, trying to reassure him. You held up your bloodied hands. “I did worse to myself, see? Trust me. It’s worth the price. Except I’ll need some makeup to cover this with to pull off tomorrow’s plan… We’ll have to find a stand at the market and quick, I should get out of here in case the tail picks me up again.”

Din stood there, his body caging you in.

“I promise,” you said. “It’s fine.”

You ducked below his arm and put your hood back up, stopping at the first stand you found that sold makeup. You quickly made your purchase, the Mandalorian following you like a shadow, before you made your way back to your speeder and set up camp. You gathered your thoughts and your information, preparing for the next day. Your entire plan hinged on it.

***

Din was sure, now, that you’d be the end of him. It was as though you’d taken part of him for yourself, like you were walking around with a vital piece and he couldn’t do a damn thing to keep it safe anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry as when he’d seen your bruised skin. He’d known he should have gone with you. It felt like you should be within his line of sight all the time. It was the only way to know you were safe and he needed you to be safe - more, it seemed, than he needed anything else. Certainly more than he needed sleep.

Which is how he found himself standing guard as you slept, curled up on the ground under every blanket in the pack and still shivering because you couldn’t afford to risk a fire. He’d said he’d wake you for second watch but he wasn’t going to. He needed less sleep than you did and he didn’t think he could rest right now if he tried. Just like on Hosnian Prime, someone had hurt you when he’d been so close but too far to stop it. What good was all he could do if he couldn’t keep you safe?

But you’d seemed unbothered. You slept soundly, no sign of the nightmares he knew could plague you. He’d seen your scars. He knew that you’d survived far worse than anything that had happened to you today. But you shouldn’t need to.

You were upset with him when you woke up with the sunrise but he just shrugged.

“You’re the one who has to convince the local government to provide support,” he replied. “I just have to stand there.”

“You have to get us back to the settlement,” you glared at him. “Maker knows I can’t drive through trees like that.”

He laughed.

“I’ll get us there,” he replied.

He watched you get ready, using the side of the speeder bike as a mirror to doctor your face and style your hair before changing into the dress you’d packed. He’d seen you in it once before, on the Razor Crest, when you’d climbed out of your hiding place in between crates just to prove your point. The dress had almost enraged him then but he could appreciate it now. It was quietly elegant, demanding respect while highlighting your figure. It was a dress you’d leverage as a diplomat.

Keci met you about half a click outside the gates, giving you a once over.

“You clean up well,” she said.

“Have to look the part,” you shrugged before settling into the business at hand. “Let me do all the talking unless I indicate otherwise. Keci, I’ll ask you to seal the agreement on behalf of the settlement. Mando, I probably won’t ask anything of you at all. There are going to be tense moments, I’m basically going to be blackmailing a politician. It has to be done right. I need all the control of the situation I can get so please don’t intervene.”

Keci looked concerned.

“I’ve done this many times,” you said to her gently. “Trust me. I’m going to get us what we want. You just have to let me work.”

You turned and led the way to the city.

“Can she do it?” Keci lowered her voice to him, frowning. Din looked ahead to you, carrying yourself like the queen he knew you’d stood in for.

“She can,” he said. “I’ve seen it.”

The three of you made your way to the center of the city, finding the government building with ease. No one questioned you as you just walked past the guards, head held high, almost daring anyone to stop you. Eventually, you came to the governor’s office, stopping at a desk outside his door.

“Can I help you?” The man sitting at the desk got to his feet. A few guards trailed in after the group. You had drawn some attention, after all. Just no one who was brave enough to try to stop you.

“I’m here to speak with Governor Chadik on behalf of the Bisneth Settlement,” you said.

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked, looking down at his desk.

“Urgent diplomatic matters shouldn’t require an appointment,” you replied. The man frowned.

“I’m not sure that he’s available…” he hedged. Din glanced down at you.

“If Governor Chadik would like to keep his position within the New Republic, he should become available.”

The man’s eyes shot up, looking at you, trying to call your bluff. You didn’t waver.

“Right this way,” he said, gesturing you toward the door behind him.

Keci looked to Din and he gave a stiff nod as the two of them followed behind you into the grand office. A middle-aged Balosar man sat behind his desk as his assistant came and whispered in his ear, nodding and stiffening in his seat. You gave a strong, knowing smile.

“Please,” he said as his assistant stepped back. “Come in, take a seat. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” you said, stepping forward, your hands clasped in front of you. The man came out from behind his desk to meet you in the middle of the room, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. Din stiffened.

“Always a pleasure to hear from the settlements,” he said, gesturing to the seats at the front of his desk. You took the middle one as he went around the back. “I’m Governor Chadik, with whom do I have the pleasure?”

“Mesh’la,” you replied. Din felt his stomach clench at the sound of Mando’a on your lips, your pronunciation perfect. “I’m here with my guard, the Mandalorian, and Keci, the mayor of the Bisneth Settlement. I am here on behalf of the people of the settlement, people that are suffering on your watch.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” he began, but you cut him off.

“Governor,” you gave him an almost condescending smile. “Do you really think a New Republic emissary intervenes when there aren’t serious concerns? Do you believe the New Republic wastes time and resources on mundane, minor issues?”

“No,” he said quickly, laughing lightly. “No, of course not…”

“Good,” your smile became slightly more genuine. “I’d hate for you to not have a clear understanding of my role here. And your role, as well.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “And I can assure you, we do everything we can to ensure the welfare of the people here…”

You held out your hand and Din handed you the data pad he had at his side.

“I am concerned, Governor,” you frowned, looking down at the data pad. “That you don’t. You certainly don’t seem to do everything in your power and you don’t seem to understand your role, either…”

“It’s a big world, Mesh’la,” he said, grinding his teeth. “I’m not saying there wasn’t something that was missed but…”

“Well then your administration has missed an awful lot,” you said. “From Bisneth Settlement alone, a dozen citizens have been taken and enslaved by Spice runners from the Zottex Spice Operation, an organization that’s recognized as a criminal syndicate galaxy wide. The operation has cut off all trade routes to the settlement, exposing citizens there to a risk of starvation. Are you intending to participate in the flesh trade, Governor?”

“No!” He sputtered before regaining his composure. “No, of course not…”

“Excellent,” you said, scrolling further on the data pad. “Can you explain why you’ve allowed this to happen on your watch?”

“The settlement is remote,” he ground is teeth. “They are largely cut off from the rest of our society, by their choice I might add. It leaves them vulnerable, there is only so much I can do with the resources available to me…”

“Of course,” you nodded kindly, cocking your head questioningly at him. “So explain the happenings right here, in your capital city.”

“Excuse me?” He said, getting to his feet. Din went to stand, but you threw an arm out, stopping him. The man’s eyes darted to the Mandalorian, metal restrained by flesh.

“He will step in if I allow it,” you said, meeting the man’s eyes. “He’s a Mandalorian. There is no hiding from him. If I say you should be taken into custody, you will be. Please, have a seat Governor.”

He ground his teeth again before dropping forcefully into his chair and leaning across the desk. He closed his eyes for a moment relaxing his jaw, before he spoke again.

“There is nothing happening in my city,” he replied.

“So you’re unaware of the illegal casino only a few blocks away from here?” You asked, bringing up an image of the fighting ring on your data pad. “The one that includes slave ring fighting, run by the Zottex Cartel? Because what it looks like to me is that you’re getting kick-backs from a Spice operation, allowing them to capture citizens, starve citizens and profit from getting your citizens addicted to an illegal substance. Is that not what’s going on?”

He looked almost murderous. Din’s hand moved to his blaster.

“Now, Governor Chadrik,” you smiled gently. “I know you’re a busy man. It would be impossible for you to know everything that was happening on your planet at any given time.”

“Of course it is,” he seethed.

“But,” you sighed. “I think, given the New Republic’s current stance on the Spice trade and the increased crack down on slavery in the Outer Rim, you’d have a hard time making it out of this with your job intact… Unless you do something to make it better.”

“What are you asking for?” He asked. His hands were in fists on his desk. You smiled broadly.

“Nothing that’s outside your capacity to give,” you replied, sliding the data pad to him. “I have drawn up this agreement between Bisneth Settlement and the Zottex Cartel. We just ask that we have the full backing of the Bakuran government in the enforcement of this agreement.”

“You really think you can get the cartel to come to an agreement with a backwater settlement,” he hissed.

“Yes,” you said smoothly. “With the right incentives. We just ask for enforcement aid, a reasonable request that you should be fulfilling anyway. Also, you end the slave fighting. We can turn a blind eye to the casino.”

“How do you expect me to get Zottex to shut down the fighting?” He demanded. You shrugged.

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” You said. “But if you don’t want word of it to get back to the core government, you’ll make it happen. I can’t return to Coruscant and not report it if it’s still happening. Honestly, Governor, I’m doing you a favor with this offer.”

He looked at the data pad.

“I don’t have the man-power to support this level of enforcement,” he said.

“Yes you do,” you replied. “The New Republic has added 8 million credits to this world’s security budget in the last 2 years. You can afford additional forces. Unless you’d like me to examine where those funds have gone while I’m on world?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he grabbed the data pad off the desk and scrawled his signature. “You’ll never get Zottex to agree.”

“Good thing that’s not your problem then, isn’t it?” You smiled. He almost threw the data pad at you but you took it gently from his hands and handed it to Keci.

“Mayor,” you said. “Please sign on behalf of your settlement.”

She was looking at you, somewhat awed, but took the data pad and obeyed. You showed the governor before pressing a few keys.

“I just transferred a copy of this agreement to you for your records,” you said. “And, of course, we will be filing this as an official agreement with the hall of records on Coruscant. We will let you know when the agreement goes into effect. In the meantime, you have 4 days to end the slave fighting. Do you have any questions?”

He just glared at you.

“Excellent,” you smiled, handing the data pad back to Din before facing the Governor again. “It was nice to meet you, Governor Chadrik. I look forward to you fulfilling your pact with your people. Best of luck to you.”

He didn’t say anything as you led the way from the room, Din watching him until he knew he wasn’t going to shoot you.

“Maker be damned,” Keci hissed as you left the building.

“Wait until we’re the speeders,” you said quickly, your head still high as you made your way through town.

You found the bikes in the trees and Keci threw herself around your neck, laughing, almost giddy.

“I didn’t really think you could do it!” She clutched onto you. You just smiled and patted her back. “I can’t believe it, we’re going to get the help we need!”

“We’re only half way there,” you said, stepping back gently. “We still have to back Zottex into a corner.”

“I know,” she said, still smiling hugely. “But I think we can. I know we can. You’re not really an emissary from the New Republic, are you? What if he tries to get out of it?”

“And what,” you shrugged. “Sends a message to Coruscant saying ‘hey, just checking, but someone called me on my shit, can you confirm she’s with you?’ He’s going to keep this as quiet as possible. And you don’t have to be an emissary to file something with the hall of records. We can log it, it will be binding. We just have to get Zottex to sign.”

“We can,” she said quickly. “We will.”

You rode on the back of Din’s speeder, your head between his shoulders at his back, your arms around his waist, legs around his hips. He let himself enjoy the feeling of it - the feeling of someone who could bring the Governor of a planet to his knees wrapped around him.

Keci spread the word the second she was back, with what seemed like the entirety of the settlement pouring from their homes to greet you on the street as you walked back to where you were staying. Someone started playing music and you’d only made it up the path to where you were staying when someone pressed dishes of food into your hands.

“I feel bad for taking resources,” you said, sitting with your back against the wall as Din started a fire. The sun was going down, but the celebration in the streets of the settlement was just getting started but the two of you were far enough away that it was quiet, distant.

“Think you earned it. Besides, trade will start again soon,” Din said, sitting across from you. “How’s your face?”

“Fine,” you waved him off. “Barely even feel it.” You took a bite of food and closed your eyes, moaning happily. “Fuck, almost forgot what not-rations taste like. Maker, that’s good.”

Din laughed and your eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I’m being so rude,” you said, moving out from the wall and turning to face the corner. He paused. “There, I won’t look. You should eat, it’s so good.”

He watched you for a moment. He wanted to ask you to turn back around, having more fun watching you enjoy yourself, but thought better of it. Instead, he removed his helmet and took a bite.

“You were right,” he said. “This is…”

“So good, right?” You said when he couldn’t find the words. He smiled.

“So good.”

After dinner, you strategized until it looked like you were going to collapse and Din convinced you to lie down, the faint strains of music still filtering in through the window. Again, he waited until he was sure you were asleep before he silently removed his helmet, holding you close enough that he could feel your skin until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, putting the helmet back on before falling asleep beside you.

***

The giddiness of pulling off your plan clung to you all the way back to the settlement and all evening long, the happiest it seemed you’d been in ages. It was like your whole body was burning with it, a pleasant tingling spreading through your limbs and your chest, consuming you. You’d been about ready to fall asleep sitting up with Din convinced you to lie down, something you were happier to agree to when he took his place next to you.

The feeling only seemed to grow as you slept, though, and the ache inside you deepened as you dreamed of the most stable presence in your life, all metal and soothing baritone. What it would be like to touch him, feel him, the need twisting and gnawing in your sleep.

“Mesh’la,” his voice, slightly strangled, reached you, and you woke with a gasp. You were in his arms but closer than you’d ever been. One leg was hitched over his hip, your core pressed against him, suddenly acutely aware of his hard length against you through his flight suit. His arms were around you, loosely, like he was afraid to touch you, but your chest was pressed tight against him.

“I’m…” you started, panting for breath but not fully understanding why. Your eyes searched where you knew his to be below the helmet, about to apologize when you realized that he was breathless, too.

He lifted a gloved hand, tentatively, brushing your hair back from your face. You took a deep, shaky breath, the ache between your legs growing at the feeling of him pressed against you.

“What do you want, Mesh’la?” He asked, his voice trembling. “Tell me what you want, what you need.”

You groaned quietly, pressing yourself closer to him, somehow inching you closer to relief while spreading the ache through your body.

“You,” you whispered. “I want… I need… you.”

He took the hand from your face and took yours.

“Help me take this off,” he said, still panting for breath. You obeyed, hand trembling as you pulled the glove from him. His fingers traced your hand, his skin feeling too soft for someone who lived the life he did, before running up your arm back to your face. His fingers drifted into your hair and he moaned softly, twisting in it at the base of your skull before pulling your head to his helmet and rocking his hips against you.

A strangled groan spilled from your lips as you moved against him, working yourself over him while the hand that was below your body clutched at your lower back, pressing you so tightly to him you were afraid you’d burst.

But you needed it, needed the closeness, needed to feel as much of him as you possibly could, the ache threatening to consume you otherwise. His ungloved hand eventually left your face, trailing to your chest and running over your breasts beneath your shirt, softly cupping you as he pressed his length against you harder.

His pace increased, his hand running down your body - leaving your breasts with a strangled moan - to your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he pulled you closer. You knew, if you were both naked, he’d be buried inside you like this. But instead it felt like he was trying to climb inside your skin and you were desperate to let him, wanted to feel him that close to you like you’d never wanted anything else.

“Cyare,” he moaned as you clung to him, doing everything in your power to bring him closer. The hand on your leg moved again, this time slipping up your shirt to your back, his fingertips digging into you in a way that would probably hurt if you weren’t so desperate for release, for him. You moaned, biting your lip, nearing choking on the aching pleasure. “Tell me what you need… fuck, so soft…”

“Just you,” you managed, hardly able to string two words together. All you could think of was the rising pleasure, the tightness building in your core, how you weren’t sure it would be possible to ever be close enough to this man to be truly satisfied. “Please, Din…”

He thrust up against you, almost rabid with need, hitting you just right so that the band that had been tightening inside you snapped and you came with a strangled cry. He grabbed you with both hands and pulled your hips against him with all his strength, gasping as he came undone, his orgasm so powerful you could feel him throbbing through your clothes.

“Fuck, Cyare,” he moaned, all the tension leaving his body as he went limp beside you, his grip on you easing, both of you panting for breath. You stayed like that, your body against his, raw from the intensity of your release, for a few minutes. His ungloved hand shakily came to your face, cupping your cheek gently. You pressed your face into his palm, luxuriating in the fact that you were touching him, his skin. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice was shaky. “Are you?”

“Yes. I’ve wanted…” he paused, his breathing straining to return to normal. He ran his fingers through your hair. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

Your hand covered his ungloved one, lacing your fingers through his and tugging his palm to your lips as press a kiss into it. His breathing stuttered again.

“Good,” you said softly. “Because I wouldn’t want to be in that alone.”

He held you close, your leg still over his hip, your face still against his helmet, until you both fell asleep again, completely wrapped up in each other.

You half expected to have dreamed it, for him to not be there when you woke, but he was. Your leg was still over him, his ungloved hand was tangled in your hair and curled around the back of your neck, his thumb gently tracing your throat, your forehead against the bottom of his helmet. The ache in you from the night before lingered beneath the surface, hazy morning light coloring the room around you a soft orange. You gently ran your fingers along his side, where his skin was only covered by his flight suit and there was no armor between you.

“Doll,” he said softly, his voice low. It made you jump, snatching your hand back into yourself for a moment before you slowly, cautiously reached back to his side. He wouldn’t be holding you like this if he didn’t want you to touch him, right?

“Yes?” You breathed, resisting the urge to move your hips against him.

“What do you want?” His voice was almost a growl, heat and desperation in it.

“I thought I’d made that clear last night,” you said, softly, slowly rocking your hips against him. He groaned.

“Good.”

His hand disentangled from your hair and almost flew to your leg, pulling it higher on his body so he could press himself closer to you. You buried your mouth in his shoulder to muffle your strangled cry as he almost viciously clung to you, the heat that had been present in your body curling between your legs. You abandoned any pretense you had, arms wrapping around him and pulling him tightly against you, your body crushing against his muscle and armor.

You couldn’t remember ever needing something - anything - the way you needed this. Like there was a fist in your chest, squeezing your heart so it threatened to burst until you found relief. The arm that was below you suddenly wrapped tightly around your waist and Din rolled onto his back, taking you with him so you were on top of him. His hands moved quickly to your hips, reminding you of how he moved when fighting - exacting, purposeful. He pulled you down against him and you almost collapsed on him from the shock of that rolled through you, the angle exposing unknowingly neglected nerves and flesh that relished in the contact.

His hands guided your movements, fingers clinging to you, working your body over his in long, full, aching strokes. You shuddered against him, your head falling weakly to his, the cool metal feeling almost as intimate as the bare skin of his hand as his fingers brushed against your exposed flesh over the top of your pants. He thrust himself up against you, fast and hard and reckless, and you groaned, pressing your lips into his covered shoulder just to put them somewhere on him.

Din’s hands left your body for a moment, just long enough to pull off the other glove and cast it aside, before slipping them below your shirt and over your skin. With a moan, he pulled you down onto him, his hips meeting yours, the feeling of his bare hands on you heady and intense.

You tried to steady yourself and have just a moment of lucidity, putting your hands on his shoulders and pushing him into the ground, leveraging yourself up and looking down at him. Your long hair was a curtain around you both and your eyes found his below his mask, feeling him there as you worked yourself against him harder, faster, your breaths coming in keening pants. His hands slid slowly up your body, the feeling of his skin on you leaving a trail of fire up your flesh. He moaned breathlessly when he reached your breasts, his soft touch standing in stark contrast to his sharp thrusts beneath you. You gasped his name as the tightness inside you neared its peak, bringing you higher and higher.

“Fuck, Mesh’la,” he moaned. “You feel… Do it, take what you need…”

You pressed yourself so hard against him it seemed like a miracle you didn’t break from it, working his hard length over your core until you came undone, your body going limp and hips stilling. His hands moved on you again, his hips still pushing up against your overwrought center, one going to the small of your back, the other wrapping around your middle, holding you so tight against him that you weren’t quite sure where you ended and he began, your whole body a raw nerve. He held onto you like you were all that mattered, the only thing keeping him alive, the only thing he’d ever needed. You felt his release overtake him, a strangled groan slipping from him as he gasped for breath and clutched you to him. You lay there, body limp on him, wondering how the fuck he could do this to you.

It’s not like you were especially experienced - you’d only ever been with one person, war and a subsequent life in hiding not exactly giving you much time for things like romance. But you weren’t a total novice, either. Sex with Dagres had been good. Not that you knew a damn thing about it but you loved him and it felt right. But it never felt like this and you hadn’t even touched him, not really. You were both still fully clothed.

“Cyare,” he said. His hand trembled as he found your face, the other slipped up your back, fingers gentle on your spine. Your lips brushed his thumb and he pulled your head to the base of his mask, sighting against you. You kissed the middle of his chest, against his armor.

“What does that mean?” You asked softly. His hand stilled in the middle of your back, his palm large and warm. He was silent. After a moment, you decided to cut him a break, fighting to ignore the pang of rejection. “We should go, we have a lot of work to do.”

***

All Din wanted was to hold onto you for a while longer. The absence of you stung as you went to get changed. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening as you just existed in the next room. It had been so long since he’d last touched someone but it felt like he couldn’t get close enough to you, no matter what he did. You were so soft, possibly the softest thing he’d ever held. He could almost imagine what it would be to sink into you, to feel you completely. It had been months since he’d last been with a woman and it had only ever been something quick to satisfy a need. Everything stayed on, he’d never touched someone the way he’d touched you.

When he’d woken to you pressed against him, warm and desperate in your sleep, it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a dream. He should have woken you up the moment he knew what you were doing. But you felt too good and it consumed him. He could only wake you up when he couldn’t take it anymore, when he was so desperate to move against you that he had no other choice.

He hadn’t meant to call you cyare. The word seemed to have slipped from him of its own accord, the only word he knew in any language that fit you.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. He signed, getting to his feet and silently leaving the house before you emerged from the bedroom and walking down the path to the settlement.

When you came down not long after, you didn’t say a word to him, barely glancing at him before finding Keci.

The next thing he knew, you were climbing the tallest tree near the center of town. Din growled and stalked over to it, standing beside Keci as she looked up at you.

“What’s she doing?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you keep climbing, the thin branches looking like they’d barely hold your weight. But you kept climbing.

“Looking for a good siege point,” she glanced over at him. “She’s damn good.”

“I know,” he muttered, still watching you. Your foot slipped and Din jumped - ready to do what he wasn’t quite sure - but you caught yourself. You were too high up. But you held onto the tree, surveilling the area before climbing back down, dropping beside Keci and landing deftly on your feet from more than 10 feet up.

“I think I have it,” you said, nodding to her. “If we set up the meeting hall to withstand a siege, we can put the most vulnerable in there. We can work with the landscape around the outskirts and we’ll only need a few well-placed explosives. We can force them through a funnel point, have the defensible siege location. Once we pin them down, we can capture one or two major players and force the agreement.”

She nodded.

“We have about two dozen strong fighters,” Keci said. “A handful more who are decent marksmen if we set them back…”

“If we can make sure their numbers don’t overwhelm us,” you said. “I think that will be enough. But we need to force them into the funnel.”

“On it,” Keci said, making for the central part of the settlement. You watched her go for a moment before glancing at him.

“Yes?” You asked, voice cool.

“Can you try harder to not get yourself killed?” He grumbled.

“Sorry, Mando,” you said. “Wasn’t aware you cared.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he just watched you leave.

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

147 notes · View notes

goldflinches · 2 months

Text

AUgust no. 1 - Canon Divergence

Fishbowl rescue or at least an attempt at one (pre-dreamling)

———

It’s the witching hour. The light bulb above the sink keeps flickering and Hob Gadling is making a deal with another stranger.

She can help him find his stranger (my brother, she says with a pinched expression Hob can’t even begin to parse out) but she can’t do more than that (the rules, she mentions in passing, face as placid as a rip current). If Hob is willing to help, she can make a deal. (Another deal, she says with a wistful smile) (Hob shivers. Curiosity and cats, he thinks)

Hob takes the deal.

Even if he’s so painfully human that there’s little to offer her. When he offers his immortality, she laughs like it is joke they had shared many times before. (she tells him, I’m not of the habit of taking back gifts, Hob Gadling) (Hob shivers again)

So she bargains with Hob—the memory of the once-a-century meetings for the possibility of future ones (I can’t promise it for certain, she says, historically he's been very stubborn) (she is not wrong).

Hob tries to reason around it: How can he rescue someone he won’t remember? Can’t she leave something to guide Hob to him? (he doesn't try to reason out its cruelty, he's had a hand at it and this is just another round of weathering it) (it will be worth it. It has to be worth it)

He tries this: What about his voice? Leave that one part of him about him behind. I would know his voice anywhere, in my waking hours. in my dreams. She agrees (with a curious look, with a softness that Hob refuses to tread upon).

How do we do this? Hob asks.

I forgot to introduce myself, she says with a warm smile, I’m Death of the Endless, the end of all things—tiny, cosmic, and everything in between. The death of mice, Hob stands frozen as she reaches out to him, of the light bulb over your sink, of every star spinning in the universe. And of course, memory.

And she taps Hob’s temple and the memory of his stranger flickers out like the light above them.

———

Once Hob gets his bearings (Wych Cross. Fawney Rig. In the basement, for years. Decades), he races to his stranger’s rescue and finds…nothing.

Not nothing really. But just Fawney Rig is in ashes and not a single soul to ask, What the fuck happened?

———

One week ago, Alex Burgess uses a scroll that will free him of Dream of the Endless. It doesn’t work (not in the way he had intended) (but all roads lead to Rome, burning).

One week ago, Dream of the Endless gets a glimpse of realm, wreaked and barren, before he’s hurled back into his glass cage. (knowing makes it worse. knowing makes him turn his back from his guards and bite his thumb so hard that he bleeds) (knowing makes him draw a sigil on the glass and speak his first words in half a century)

One week ago, Dream of the Endless makes a deal. (Mother, is the last thing he says before she draws a bloody line across his throat) (hush darling, is the last he hears before it goes dark, before the glass breaks, before he finds himself free at last)

#Dreamling #dream x hob #thoughts have been thunk #fic #AU gust #au gust 2024 #if it isn't obscure enough this is a play on 'what if we made the fishbowl rescue into a little mermaid kind of deal?'#obviously a very gets worse before it gets better situation #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling

19 notes · View notes

orangedodge · 2 days

Text

At least two of the new X-books were not subject to any research whatsoever.

No one involved in writing or editing Phoenix knew who Corsair was before the issue went to script. It just isn't possible to have written him so off, like a knockoff MCU Star-Lord looking for a big score, when he's been a trusted friend since the 1980. Every writer will have their own take on any given character, and wildly different variations can diverge over the course of decades of stories, but this version of Corsair is just not a valid continuation of anything that has ever been written about him before, across any medium.

And there is no way that anyone involved in creating X-Factor has done any reading on any of their characters. None of the established characters would sign off to work for Alex's shady team of reality TV cops. Cecilia Reyes is joining a military operation? She wasn't even comfortable being an X-Man, and she at least agreed with their values. Frenzy and Pyro are assaulting dissidents because some general and her corporate overlord ordered it? They should be attacking the humans to help the mutants escape, not taking any part in raids on their own community.

(Also Havoc's clear disdain for Pyro, while perhaps in character for him to express, feels too much like it carries authorial intent. Pyro's work with the Marauders was a hell of a lot more useful than anything Alex has ever done as a failed superhero. Alex isn't the one suffering with losers here)

Polaris, I can accept that she's been through a lot and finds herself in an uncertain space. But if she actually intends to be a part of an underground movement, she's simply too big of a name in this universe to resurface as the random underling to a group of nameless generics. She was one of the leaders of Genosha. She was chosen from among millions to represent Krakoa as one of their X-Men. She does not need to prove herself to any of these people, much less get talked down to by them. Is Mark Russell not aware that she has a history outside of being Alex's girlfriend?

#x-men #x-factor #phoenix #x-men from the ashes #lorna dane #alex summers #christopher summers #comics #comic books #marvel #st john allerdyce #cecilia reyes #wednesday spoilers

16 notes · View notes

tumbleweed-writes · 6 months

Text

Death and the Lady Chapter Five: Chibs Telford X Reader

TAG LIST: @youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

Slight content warning for descriptions of death and embalming related things....I mean what'd you expect given the reader's career. If it's something you're sensitive too though might not be advisable to read it.

=======

Chapter Five: Feeling Special

Y/N could think of about a thousand things she would rather be doing at this very moment than sitting in a car and possibly speaking with the Queen of SAMCRO.

She was almost certain she’d even prefer to be stuck doing a restorative embalming on a victim of a bear mauling who had been left out in the heat of July for an open casket funeral, than be anywhere near Gemma Teller Morrow.

Hell she’d rather prep thirty badly decomposed bodies for open caskets, than be here doing this right now.

The entire time she’d been walking up to the little cramped office at TM Auto, she was almost tempted to turn the other way and explain to Chibs that she’d changed her mind and would be calling a taxi instead of allowing the Queen of SAMCRO to give her a ride home. She’d even been enticed to claim she had decided she would walk home carrying her groceries even if that meant her eggs broke and her milk spoiled.

Y/N was no stranger to the Queen of SAMCRO. Given the complicated history Y/N had with the Sons, it was impossible to totally fly under Gemma’s radar.

From what Y/N could remember from back in those days Gemma was intimidating to say the least. Almost a decade before Gemma had unnerved Y/N, and she hated to admit that the sense of unease still remained.

She knew well enough to know that no one who tended to be a frequent visitor to the Sons clubhouse managed to escape the Queen’s attention. Gemma knew just who walked in and out of the Sons world. If Gemma didn’t like you she might be inclined to find a way to get rid of you whether that be by her own hand or by convincing Clay.

Y/N’s history with SAMCRO almost ten years before had placed her right smack dab on Gemma’s radar. Y/N had guessed that Gemma had liked her well enough, after all Y/N had never been disposed of. However, Gemma had often had a few strong words for Y/N and the Sons over Y/N’s access to alcohol given that she hadn’t exactly been of the legal drinking age back then.

Y/N was sure if Jax and she’d not formed the complicated friendship they’d held back then, then Gemma might have been more inclined to kick Y/N from the property.

Even with the slight disapproval of the Sons tendency to let Y/N indulge, Y/N had never gotten the sense that Gemma hated her guts. Y/N didn’t exactly feel inclined to want to spend more time than necessary with the woman though.

Y/N couldn’t help but internally cringe certain that her current involvement with SAMCRO had made her a pretty big blip on Gemma’s radar once again. If her little favors to the MC hadn’t landed her on Gemma’s radar, then she was certain the date she’d just agreed to have with Chibs most likely would land her there.

She was not looking forward to being on Gemma’s radar.

She did her best to hold her head up high and pretend that she’d much rather be anywhere else on the planet than sitting in the passenger’s seat of Gemma Teller Morrow’s SUV.

She was unsurprised to find that Gemma had not changed much in ten years. She’d aged of course and her hair was slightly different; blonde highlights joining her dark hair, but she still held an aura that clearly read she was not to be fucked with.

Y/N just hoped that perhaps she herself gave off an energy that read she had no interest in pissing off the Queen nor did she have any desire to dig up ancient history. She wasn’t entirely fond of the idea of taking any trips down memory lane with the Queen of SAMCRO.

Y/N cringed internally easily remembering the words she’d blurted out when she’d entered the little office at TM Auto. “Fil…Chibs said that you might be able to give me a ride home with my groceries. My car is out of service.”

She had not missed the raised eyebrow from Gemma she’d earned in return over the fact that she had almost called Chibs Filip. Y/N had the distinct feeling Chibs’ first introduction to her by what surely must be his legal name, was not a usual introduction the Scotsman might give to people.

If things couldn’t get any more awkward, Chibs had been all too eager to bark an order to the Sons’ prospect Half Sack to carry Y/N’s groceries to the back end of Gemma’s SUV. That was of course before Chibs had once again given Y/N an all too flirty smirk and reminded her that he would be calling her this evening to arrange their dinner plans.

At that moment Y/N had wanted nothing more than to somehow find a way to dissolve into a puddle and disappear between the cracks in the pavement below her.

She knew the little interaction had absolutely placed her right back on Gemma’s radar. It was the last place she wanted to be.

She twisted the thin silver bangle bracelets she wore on her wrist as Gemma eyed her from the driver’s seat, not missing the chance to finally speak up after what seemed like an entirely too long car ride in silence. “So, you have a date?”

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. “He’s essentially bribing me with reduced automotive repair in exchange for a date.”

She cringed realizing how it all sounded when she said it out loud. She spoke again fast to say the words before Gemma got the wrong idea. “Just dinner, not that kind of date.”

Gemma gave her a small smirk, she quick to speak. “So, I take this to mean you aren’t going to be returning to any old habits.”

Y/N tried not to scowl, not entirely sure she wasn’t offended by exactly what Gemma was implying, but a voice in the back of her head reminded her that Gemma did have the right to make such an implication.

Y/N hadn’t exactly been a blushing virgin back then. She’d occasionally had a tendency to fall into the occasional visiting nomad’s bed as well as occasionally into the bed of the Prince of SAMCRO. “No, I have no intention of being a Friday night visitor ever again.”

“Good, you were always a little smarter than the half bright tarts who sucked off anything in a kutte.” Gemma remarked Y/N raising an eyebrow at the statement. She’d almost forgotten how crass the Queen of SAMCRO was capable of being.

Gemma had never been one to shy away from being vulgar especially if it helped her make a point.

Y/N was fast to respond to the observation once she got over her shock over the crass comment. “I wasn’t exactly playing the croweater game. I was just…working through some things.”

Gemma spoke, pulling a cigarette from her purse and lighting it up as they pulled up to a stop light. “You worked through them all then I’m guessing?”

Y/N cleared her throat continuing to to twist the bangle on her wrist as she watched Gemma fish a lighter from her purse lighting the cigarette between her lips. “I’m a new woman.”

“I hope you’re not too new. Like I said, you were always smart. I’d hope you’re still smart enough. Being smart is ideal, given what you’re getting into with Chibs.” Gemma remarked, taking a drag from the cigarette.

Y/N furrowed her brow fast to speak, the comment making her cheeks flush in a way she prayed was not noticeable. “I’m not getting into anything. It’s one dinner date. Trust me, I’m not trying to become anyone’s ol lady…I never was interested in that.”

She tried not to look at the crow inked over Gemma’s right breast. Y/N had been around the club enough almost a decade before to know just the meaning behind the ink. She was intelligent enough to pick up on some of the club lingo; the stark difference between ol ladies and croweaters was a part of that knowledge.

She wasn’t lying. She’d never had the desire to land herself a Son. The Son’s clubhouse had just provided an environment to act out her anger and misery. She was certain if the clubhouse hadn’t been a setting for her to act out her problems, then she would have found somewhere else just as dangerous to lose herself in.

Sex and booze had always been a great distraction from misery. Y/N had found after a little therapy during her time in New York, that she was better off seeking out healthier coping mechanisms than dicks and tequila.

She shifted in her seat not quite sure she liked the look Gemma sent her upon hearing the ol lady comment. The older woman was fast to respond, a small knowing smile finally crossing her features. “It’s never just one date sweetheart.”

Y/N sighed that tired heavy feeling once again washing over her. She’d almost forgotten how exhausting it could be to talk to Gemma. She always felt a little too much like a chimpanzee playing chess against a grandmaster.

Gemma was fast to speak again, deciding to throw a kernel of knowledge in the younger woman’s direction hoping it would help explain just why they were having this conversation. “He doesn’t ask women out. You should feel special.”

Y/N frowned at the comment that little spark of curiosity that she’d noticed usually struck up when she thought of Chibs sparking again. She pushed it back, her voice holding a hint of sarcasm. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

Gemma shook her head, replying taking another drag from the cigarette blowing the smoke out the cracked window. “You’re still clever, but I see you haven’t outgrown the smart mouth.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift that keeps giving.” Y/N replied removing her hand from her bangles choosing instead to clasp her hands in her lap.

Gemma spoke, a small smirk crossing her features. “I’m guessing your gift doesn’t do you any favors in your line of work. I remember you having quite the temper as well. I’m imagining neither the mouth nor the rage do you any favors given your career.”

“I’ve learned to bite my tongue when I need to. I’m a little less likely to bite heads off at work.” Y/N responded relieved that Gemma seemed to be shifting the conversation away from Y/N’s impending date with Chibs.

Gemma spoke again, daring to comment. “I’ve always found that sometimes you have to bite a few heads off to make a point. Sometimes it pays off to be a bitch.”

She spoke again before Y/N had a chance to reply, she not helping but to dig. “What about your newfound connection with SAMCRO, how is that impacting your work? From what I understand Jax, Chibs, Juice, and the prospect paid you a visit out at the city crematorium the other day. That is how you met Chibs isn’t it?”

Y/N felt her stomach churn having to wonder just how much Gemma knew. She had a distinct feeling that Gemma knew more than she’d ever let on when it came to many subjects. Y/N’s new partnership with SAMCRO was just one of those subjects. “I’m not having any issues in my professional life.”

“Even with those empty graves? I heard Deputy Hale and a forensic team from Lodi were out looking them over with you not too long ago.” Gemma asked prodding a bit further, showing a little more of her hand.

Y/N kept her expression calm, a small sigh leaving her. “The grave robberies are an unfortunate incident. I’m afraid I can’t provide any more information. All I know is the deceased were there when I buried them. The world is a strange place. I do hope they find the responsible party. From what I know the Lodi police have a few suspects in their own jurisdiction.”

Gemma gave her a small smile seemingly satisfied with the answer she’d been given. “Like I said, you were always a clever one, even with the smart mouth.”

She spoke again before Y/N had a chance to reply. “Take some advice, don’t lose the smart mouth or the temper completely. It’ll do you more favors than you realize”

Y/N chose not to reply, thanking her lucky stars as Gemma finally pulled up to Y/LN and Sons funeral home.

She felt herself reaching for her seatbelt before Gemma even had a chance to pull into the drive.

She sighed as Gemma spoke nodding up at the sign. “Still keeping the and Sons in the name?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders as she gathered her purse. “It’s what the business has always been called. I don’t see the sense in rebranding after decades upon decades.”

She spoke again before Gemma had a chance to start up a new psychological chess match. “Thank you for the ride, Gemma. I’ll let you get back to the Auto shop.”

Gemma spoke, moving to remove her own seatbelt. “I’ll help you with the groceries.”

Y/N spoke never more certain she’d been as happy to see Skeeter appear, the man opening the front door carrying boxes of what she was certain were extra pamphlets for the last funeral service they’d held. She was always scolding him to recycle the unused pamphlets the deceased’s family didn’t want. It seemed that for once he was listening to her and it was working in her favor. “No need, Skeeter can get it. He’s accustomed to taking orders from me.”

“How assertive of you.” Gemma remarked not missing the hint that Y/N was not thrilled by the concept of having Gemma Teller Morrow anywhere near her living space upstairs above the business portion of her home.

Y/N gave her a calm smile as she opened the car door and began stepping out. “It pays to be the boss.”

And with that she shut the door turning to wave at Skeeter. “Skeet, come help me get groceries.”

She narrowed her eyes, sending him a look that clearly read shut up and help me.

She was relieved he took the hint, dropping the cardboard boxes he’d been carrying and making his way over to the car.

Y/N sighed, turning to help as much as she could. The sooner she got her groceries upstairs the sooner she could take the long bath she’d wanted for hours now and forget this entire day.

She cringed as she remembered that the day wasn’t over yet. A certain Scotsman had made it clear she was expecting a phone call tonight.

She once again had to question just how she’d allowed SAMCRO to make her life so complicated.

—------------------------------------

Y/N had at least managed to take a decent bubble bath though she’d forsaken the wine remembering that she technically had work to do this evening. She couldn’t exactly be tipsy given her work.

That work consisted of caring for the deceased man lying on the embalming table in her basement. She sighed as she stood staring down at him debating just how much Arterial Fluid Atryl Six she needed to add to her embalming solution. The man on her table appeared to be jaundiced enough to need some of the chemical to help correct the slight yellow discoloration to his complexion. She knew that figuring out the right mix of chemicals was always a delicate dance. Too much of one thing could either wash out the body all the more or worse make it an unnatural shade. One wanted to capture a tone that gave the appearance of life.

Death was grotesque. The complexion lost its color, blood settled, rigor mortis set in before releasing, the mouth opened unnaturally, eyes lost their light and eyes could tend to decay quickly, a variety of insects could settle if enough time passed, purge leaked from orifices, and skin could even begin to slip if the body began to decay enough. There was also the smell to consider. Death had an odor that was hard to describe and impossible to compare to any other smell on the planet.

The sight and scent of death was not something she would wish on anyone who did not choose to enter this profession. She’d even watched a few of her fellow students in mortuary school vomit when faced with real actual death. Those students never lasted long.

The real sight of death certainly was not a sight meant for those who had loved the dead in life.

Y/N knew there weren’t really any redos when it came to embalming. Her only option if she miscalculated the volumes of what chemicals she used would be to do more work with cosmetics to see if she could possibly hide the problem. No one enjoyed creating more work for themselves.

She usually prided herself in her ability to always figure out just what combination of fluids would work the best for each situation. She found a certain amount of satisfaction in making the deceased look as perfect as possible for their loved ones.

Y/N knew what perception people had of her job. They could only focus on how gloomy it seemed. They only focused on the creepy factor. They saw it as disturbing. They saw the gross parts of it.

She wouldn’t delude anyone, even herself, into believing the embalming process wasn’t a little gross…or a lot gross honestly.

However, she’d always managed to feel a certain sense of peace in the act.

She viewed the task as a service. She essentially saw herself as a caretaker for the dead and the bereaved. She felt honored to be trusted to take care of someone’s loved one in this way.

In her view corpses were not frightening though they weren’t exactly pleasant. She’d always held the view that the dead were still people and most of the time they had living people who still loved them. So, it was her job to make sure those loved ones had the best last memory of their dearly departed.

She cringed feeling like a hypocrite for the thought. She hadn’t exactly shown care in the way she’d given those corpses right over to SAMCRO. She had sullied a profession she loved.

She banished the thought from her brain no matter how true it might be.

She didn’t want her misdeeds to cloud something that she found so much pride in.

She knew she was good at her job both as a funeral director and an embalmer. She was a born-natural given her childhood. Her instructors in mortuary school had often praised her for her dedication as well as her intuitive approach to handling the deceased. She was never shy about approaching a difficult job but was not so overeager as to become arrogant enough to make rash choices that would result in mistakes. She didn’t shy away from tough embalming jobs or the weeping bereaved. Her father had taught her well long before she’d gotten the technical training from her schooling.

She had never feared any of the aspects of death or funerals. She had always found it slightly worrisome of course, that she felt more comfortable with the dead than she did the living.

The dead were less likely to cause her harm in her humble opinion and experience. The living usually just disappointed her. The living were intentionally cruel. They lied and maimed. They broke hearts. Living people were awful.

The dead didn’t hold all the disappointments of the living.

The few friends she’d had back in New York had perceived her as being lonely, even those friends who were in her industry perceived her as being a loner. She knew she had at times gained a reputation for being antisocial.

She’d had at least one former boyfriend call her emotionally closed off and even mentally unbalanced.

She at times had to wonder if they had a point. Why else would she feel so at home with death?

In her mind though the embalming room was a place of peace. The funeral home was her safe place.

She had always felt comfort in death. Even when she was a child the setting of her home and the concept of death had only struck curiosity instead of fear.

She could distinctly remember her father scolding her as a child a few times for peaking around the corner trying to catch a glimpse of whatever funeral Old Charlie and her father had been setting up.

She was relieved her father seemed to understand her curiosity and hadn’t written his daughter off as being mentally disturbed. He himself had once held that same sense of curiosity given he’d been raised in the same environment.

Y/N’s older brother had not been curious. He’d been terrified. Daniel had resisted his father’s lessons about the family business time and time again. Even before the accident, it had been clear that Daniel didn’t want a thing to do with the family business. He seemed to want to escape their legacy. His attempts to escape had cost him any chance of a future.

So even early on, even before the accident, Y/N’s father had seemed to funnel all of his knowledge into his daughter. She’d soaked it up.

Back when she’d been in denial about her place in her father’s world, she’d tried to write off her interest in her father’s lessons as just her being glad to spend time with her dad. She’d told herself that she only enjoyed learning the family business from him because it had meant he paid attention to her. She had at one point been a daddy’s girl after all, so time spent with him was enjoyed even if that time was spent with him answering a million questions about death at the dinner table.

It wasn’t until she’d put some space between herself and Charming though that she’d realized that she had a genuine love for the business. She truly was her father’s daughter.

She sighed, finally settling on just what might be the perfect ratio of embalming fluids to water moving to gather the supplies, before her cell phone began to chime.

She frowned, removing the blue rubber gloves she’d been wearing as part of the protective gear she always wore when embalming. She tossed them in the trash as she headed towards the cabinet by the sink where her cell phone sat.

She pulled down the face mask she wore knowing she might not be as audible as she could be through the fabric. She pulled up the face shield she wore over her head as she picked up her cell phone, her stomach and heart both doing a summersault as she recognized the number from the incoming call flashing across the screen.

She flipped open the little pink Motorola Razr phone holding up to her ear as she spoke hoping that the confusing mix of displeasure and strangest little sense of delight wasn’t evident in her voice. “Hello, Filip…or is it Chibs?”

She ignored the slight flush of lust that washed through her at the chuckle she received on the other end of the line. “Ya can call me whichever ya prefer lass. I’m jus happy ta be acknowledged by the likes of ya.”

She rolled her eyes, tempted to tell him that he was full of shit.

She was quite certain he was aware of this feature of his personality by now.

A voice in the back of her head was quick to pipe up that what if he wasn’t entirely full of it though? She shoved the voice back as she spoke. “I think I prefer Filip.”

“Aye glad ta hear it.” He was fast to respond, Y/N not missing the upbeat tone his voice had taken upon hearing this comment.

She raised an eyebrow once again realizing that the name Filip was not a common way for the Scot to want or expect to be addressed.

She suddenly remembered Gemma’s comment earlier in the day You should feel special.

She pushed the thought from her mind as Chibs spoke again. “So what are ya doin on this lovely evenin?”

She glanced over at the deceased laying out on her embalming table deciding to be brutally honest. Perhaps if she was honest enough he’d get spooked and disappear.

She ignored the voice in the back of her head that told her that there didn’t seem much of a way to scare the Scotsman off; after all hadn’t he been present for that illegal cremation and taken part in the handover of bodies from her possession to SAMCRO?

Another voice piped up telling her she might actually kind of feel disappointed if he got spooked. As much of a fuss as she was putting up, she had to admit that there was a certain interest that the Scot piped up in her.

She pushed it back telling herself that getting rid of her strange and unexpected admirer was in her best interest. She couldn’t sink back into a life of debauchery at the clubhouse. It was bad enough she was doing these favors for SAMCRO. She didn’t need to have a Son attempting to get into her pants on top of the mess she’d gotten into.

She ignored the sense that she was being as self-sabotaging as she always tended to be as she spoke being brutally honest. “I was getting ready to prepare my embalming mixture. The decedent in my care has a yellow discoloration that I’m hoping to correct. No one enjoys a jaundiced corpse.”

“Aye, and how do ya go bout that?” Chibs asked, not even missing a beat.

She furrowed her brow both astounded and slightly disappointed that he didn’t even hesitate to reply to the disturbing information she’d shared.

A tiny part of her was just the slightest bit impressed. He didn’t seem to hold the same sense of distress she’d spotted in a few of the other members of SAMCRO she’d interacted with so far when it came to the harsh reality of her career.

She spoke, shrugging her shoulders as she reached down in front of her toying with the tie to the protective gown she wore over her clothing. One couldn’t be too safe when it came to the proper embalming attire. She’d always found it amusing when the media portrayed embalmers without the appropriate protective gear. “It can depend on a lot of factors…how advanced the discoloration is and what tone it is can impact just which dyes to add. There’s more products on the market than I could ever name in a reasonable amount of time. That’s part of why there’s so many conventions for people in the industry…to talk shop and present new tools of the trade…There’s a ton of chemicals that go into the process…uh formaldehyde, ethanol, glutaraldehyde, and methanol are just a few…the main thing is just deciding what ratio of what is needed to give as much of a life-like appearance as possible. You have to decide how to balance it all and how fast to allow the flow through the veins to coincide with the draining of blood…too little or too much can make or break you both with the embalming mixture and the flow.”

She cringed realizing she’d babbled a bit too much. She had a nasty habit of it when it came to talking about her work. She’d scared off more than a few people with the industry talk.

It seemed that Chibs was not one to be scared off.

“Aye, I have very little idea of what any o’ those chemicals are love, but I imagine ya know jus’ what each one does. Ya seem to be knowledgeable in yer field.” He remarked she not missing a certain hint of pride in his voice as he praised her for her knowledge.

She cleared her throat not entirely sure what to make of his praise and how good it felt. “Most of it works as a means of disinfection and preservation…well for a short period of time at least…preservation isn’t forever. Some of the chemicals can also work as a way to hydrate a dried out body. There are also chemicals that can help break up clots…At the end of the day presentation is the end goal. Everyone wants to look good in their casket”

“Aye, guess tha’ makes sense.” He responded, Y/N still feeling a little stunned he’d not made an excuse to end this phone call fast.

It was something she’d noticed with him, while some of the Sons seemed to cringe at the information she’d given that night at the crematorium and that day at the funeral home, Chibs had not had the same reaction.

It seemed Chibs was not the type of man who ran from the intense or the disturbing.

That voice that sounded all too much like Gemma piped up again: You should feel special.

She furrowed her brow having to wonder if the little flirtations and gazes he’d sent her way could actually be genuine and something more than just the outlaw biker looking to get laid? Surely if he was just looking to get laid her industry talk would have made his dick wilt up by now? Surely if he just wanted to get laid, her details about her job would have made him decide she wasn’t worth the trouble.

She suddenly remembered Gemma’s other comment from earlier: He doesn’t ask women out.

She didn’t have much time to focus on these thoughts as Chibs spoke again. “So do ya think ya might be able to step away from the embalming table tomorrow nigh? I think we agreed to a dinner date.”

She raised an eyebrow tempted to point out that tomorrow was Friday night. Wasn’t Friday night usually a big night for SAMCRO? Friday night parties were always a huge deal at the clubhouse. She was surprised he seemed so inclined to miss a Friday night party for her.

She shoved down the sense of feeling flattered. She was almost tempted to lie to him and tell him that tomorrow was a bad night. She cringed knowing that she probably did have to spend some part of Friday night preparing for a funeral early Saturday morning…but she knew well enough that Skeeter could manage without her on Friday night. “I can step away…after work. You may have to wait for me to change out of my work wear just FYI.”

“Aye, I’d wait however long ya want. I’ll pick ya up then. Let’s say seven pm?” Chibs replied she wanting to slam her head into the nearest hard surface for ever agreeing to this.

She took a deep breath reminding herself of what she’d told Gemma earlier. It was just one date. She could survive one date. Besides, it might give her a chance to ease her anxiety over the whole robbed grave situation. She could pick his brain about the mess SAMCRO had stirred up faking that grave robbery.

“Okay, you know the address.” She replied, hating the nervous little giddy feeling that was bubbling up in her gut. She might be willing to call them butterflies if she was less inclined to sink into denial about her true feelings about any of this.

“Aye I do, I’ll see ya then lass. Hope ya like burgers.” He was fast to respond.

She was tempted to lie and say she was a vegetarian. She knew the skirt steak she’d bought today would disprove the tall tale though. “Okay, I’ll see you. Goodnight, Filip.”

“Goodnight love, good luck with tha jaundice.” Chibs remarked, ending the call.

She stared down at her cell, her mind spinning in a thousand different directions.

She let out a huff glancing over at the dead man on her table knowing she had no one else with whom she could address the strangeness she’d just experienced with the Scotsman. “He is an odd man.”

She felt those nervous little butterflies, she didn’t want to acknowledge, bubble up within her at this thought.

Chibs was odd, but she’d never been one to deny that the odd could be intriguing.

—------------------------------------------

Chibs stared at himself in the mirror in his dorm in the Sons clubhouse feeling mildly frustrated that he was fussing and struggling with his hair this much.

The little hints of gray he’d begun to spot in his dark hair weren’t an entirely welcome sight.

He carefully prepared himself for tonight’s date. He’d found clean clothing, carefully shaved around his facial hair as he usually did, trimmed his goatee, and washed his hair thoroughly.

He was now attempting to style it the best he could. He had cut his hair far too short months before and was hoping to let it grow out just a bit.

He sighed knowing he’d not taken the best care of himself over the years…since he’d lost his family in Belfast honestly.

He’d put on weight and had not entirely cared about his appearance nor his health. He drank too much, he smoked too much, he slept like garbage, and his diet was a disaster.

He tried not to focus on the fact that his midsection was wider than he’d preferred. He tried not to scowl his reflection, spotting the deep scars lining his cheeks. He knew they were a part of him no matter how awful the memories behind them were. It had been a cruel play on words from Jimmy O’; a Glasgow smile for the man from Glasgow. Jimmy O’ had always used Chibs’ Scottish background as proof he was not loyal to the cause. It seemed the scars were another way of making that viewpoint clear.

Chibs could admit he’d once held quite a bit of pride in his looks. He’d always felt handsome before Jimmy O’ had attacked him so brutally.

He had to learn to accept his appearance after the attack. He’d found that he felt comfortable leaning into the intimidation factor as a way to cope with what Jimmy O’ had done to him. He had joined up with SAMBEL having been excommunicated from the True IRA. He’d leaned into the outlaw biker look allowing himself to truly become unkempt. He’d always held a bit of a dangerous vibe even when he was a younger man. It went with the territory of Fiona’s and his world.

Once he’d been banished from that world though he’d found a home with the outlaw bikers in Belfast having already had some familiarity with them through their dealings with the True IRA.

He’d adopted the more rugged rough look of his fellow outlaw bikers getting tattoos and being a little more likely to care less about how the outside world perceived him. That look he’d leaned into had only intensified as he’d patched over to SAMCRO.

A tiny little voice in the back of his brain couldn’t help but to compare himself to the young woman he was getting ready to attempt to romance.

He knew he didn’t necessarily look as though he belonged by her side. He thought of how she’d been dressed that day at the funeral home. She’d seemed so prim and so sophisticated.

He knew he was far from sophisticated and he was quite far from demure. In the past, his lack of polish would not have fazed him. He didn’t care what normal society had to think of him.

He cared what Y/N thought of him though. He cared more than he wanted to admit.

He was surprised as he realized he wanted to step up his game a little for her. That meant paying more mind to his hair and his clothing and even dabbing on a bit of cologne.

He’d chosen a long sleeved black button up wearing it over his usual choice of a ribbed undershirt. He’d worn a clean pair of black jeans and had not forsaken the usual boots he went for. Of course he wore his kutte. He was unwilling to part from that clothing choice even for her.

He adjusted the silver cross he wore around his neck and placed on the multitude of gold biker rings he always wore. He took one last glance in the mirror satisfied with the end result. He knew that he might not be some people’s perception of polished, but he’d done his best.

He glanced at the time on his alarm clock by his bed in his dorm, a small smirk crossing his lips knowing he’d have just enough time to have a shot of Jameson to ease his nerves.

He connected his wallet to his wallet chain making sure he had the key to his dorm room before he shoved the wallet in his jeans pocket.

He left the room not shocked that the beginnings of the Sons usual Friday night party had already begun to pick up.

He was surprised that he cared very little that he was missing a party. To be honest the Friday night parties and the croweaters that frequented them had not exactly held his attention since he’d met Charming’s resident funeral director.

He found it both interesting and worrisome that a woman could have this much of a hold over him so easily and so quickly.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this and as hard as he’d been trying to present an aura of confidence and charm, he felt out of his element.

As unsettled as he felt, he kind of liked it.

It felt like stepping into quicksand. He knew he could fight it, but it felt so much easier to allow her to pull him in.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t notice Juice’s eyes on him as he approached the bar getting himself the shot of Jameson he’d decided upon.

Juice spoke, not missing the chance to address the strange energy bouncing off Chibs nor the clear sign that he’d taken some care into his current appearance. “Are you wearing cologne?”

“Aye.” He replied not wanting to get into it. He was not entirely looking forward to comments from the peanut gallery over what he hoped would be a successful attempt to woo their new funeral home connection.

To be honest Chibs was not entirely amused by a few of the comments that had been made about Y/N from his brothers mainly comments about her being spooky.

He was also quite sure he was not entirely okay with the strange implication of exactly what Y/N’s history was with SAMCRO. He was getting sick of the brothers who had been around back then dancing around the simple facts of her past with the MC.

He had found that he wouldn’t really care what that past was…he just wanted to no longer feel like he was in the dark about it.

To be honest, he liked her far too much to change his mind based on whatever her past was with SAMCRO. He just didn’t like the feeling that he was not as clued in as most of his brothers.

It seemed that Half-Sack was not entirely aware that Chibs’ short response meant that the reason behind his sudden care in his appearance was off limits for discussion. “You have a date with the funeral home chick tonight huh? Do you think she’s ever fucked in the back of her hearse? I knew this goth chick once back home, and she blew a guy in a cemetery once. You think Y/N is into that kind of thing? I mean she’s gotta be into some freaky stuff if she’s into that job…Kind of insane when you think about it, there’s kinky and then there’s…well Tig kind of shit.”

Chibs slammed the bottle he’d been holding down on the bar top, his eyes glaring down upon his prospect, his voice holding a dangerous edge. “Ya keep askin those questions bout her, I’m gonna cut off yer las’ remainin ball, Prospect.”

Half-Sack widened his eyes, shrinking back surprised by the outburst especially from his Sponsor.

No matter how many missteps Half-Sack made, it had always felt like Chibs gave him some grace. He’d always felt like Chibs saw some promise in him. It was why he’d chosen him as a prospect.

It seemed though that Y/N was not a subject in which Chibs was willing to give any hint of grace if he felt disrespect or any missteps.

The prospect parted his lips ready to apologize, but he didn’t have a chance as the chapel doors opened, Clay stepping out nodding to Chibs. “Chibs, you have a moment?”

Chibs sighed hoping that this wasn’t about some other issue with the IRA connection to SAMCRO. Chibs was usually the go-to man on that subject given his history with the cause.

He wasn’t sure if the excuse of I have a date tonight was accepted by Clay if anything should come up tonight.

He’d found that he wished it was related to the IRA as the chapel doors closed behind Clay and he and the club president spoke. “Are you giving discounted auto repair work now?”

Chibs frowned, clearing his throat already having a game plan for if Clay or Gemma took any issue with his plans to give Y/N discounted work on her Acura in exchange for a chance at a date. “I’m coverin’ any pay that she ain’”

Clay stared up at the Scottish Son as though he’d sprouted another head. “What game are you playing here, Chibs?”

Chibs shrugged his shoulders taking his usual seat at the table not entirely sure he knew how to explain himself. “Figured tellin er it was on the house in exchange fer a free favor fer the club migh’ land me on her embalming table.”

“So, you decided to get a date out of it and thought that was the better option?” Clay asked furrowing his brow trying to wrap his head around the choice.

Chibs sighed guessing the news had spread due to her little outburst at TM Auto over his proposition for a date. He had the slightest feeling Gemma may have heard the outburst as well as any of his brothers who may have been working a shift at the garage yesterday.

He knew it should be no shock that the news would spread to the Club Pres. He spoke regretting his words the second they left his lips. “It ain’ club related. It’s personal.”

“It’s club related when you’re trying to get your dick wet with our newest asset. We’re already going to have enough of a problem fucking keeping her in line especially with her past with this club.” Clay snapped Chibs cringing at the statement.

Chibs cringed at the suggestion that he was only thinking with his dick in this situation. He found himself thinking of Y/N’s harsh words: I don’t know what Jackson or any of your buddies told you, but I’m not a club whore, buddy.

The statement from her lips as well as the hints he’d gotten from everyone about her history at the clubhouse had given Chibs the hint that perhaps Y/N’s reaction had been because she’d been treated like a club whore before.

The thought troubled him. He couldn’t escape the certainty that if he knew exactly who had treated her that way in the past, he might be tempted to bash some teeth in, even if those teeth belonged to the men he called his brothers.

He was surprised by the realization. He couldn’t shake the protective little tendencies he felt bubbling up in him when he thought of her.

He’d first noticed them that night at the crematorium as he’d watched her stare down at those two dead bodies SAMCRO had brought her to cremate. He didn’t like how troubled she’d looked and he wanted to pull her attention away from the guilt and sorrow she obviously felt. He noticed it again when she’d mentioned her plans to bury those cremains in the cemetery. All he could picture was some drunken bum harassing her and he’d felt the need to jump in and play bodyguard so he could make sure no one approached her.

The idea of anyone upsetting her or harassing her made him feel like throwing a punch.

He’d not felt his way about a woman in far longer than he could remember.

Chibs finally worked up the nerve to speak so sure of his words. “This ain’ jus me wanting to ta get laid. I got plenty’a willing croweaters I could take care of those needs with if it was bout that. I’m interested in a wee bit more than jus’ gettin’ my dick wet with her.”

Clay eyed the Scot clearly searching for any sign of deception from the man. Chibs tilted his chin up not backing down; he was more than sure that no one could talk him into backing away from her, even Clay.

Clay finally spoke a huff leaving him as he shook his head. “Watch yourself with her Chibs. Don’t want you to piss her off, she knows too much.”

“And she has jus’ as much to lose...Maybe more.” Chibs snapped back trying his best to keep his voice even, even with the suggestion Y/N might turn into a rat if he should ever scorn her.

Clay reached into his kutte pocket pulling out a cigar and lighting it. He took a long drag from it, narrowing his eyes at Chibs. Clay was surprised and somewhat troubled by the insolence. Chibs was usually the level headed one after all. He had a reputation for his loyalty and willingness to do anything for the club.

It seemed that SAMCRO’s newest asset had the Scotsman’s head a little scrambled. Clay was tempted to nip the issue in the butt. After all, accidents happened all the time even in a safe little town like Charming, California.

He had a feeling though that making Y/N disappear might create more of a problem than he wanted to deal with, not to mention he had a feeling it would make Chibs’ head an even bigger mess.

Clay was also quite certain that having Y/N in the club’s pocket might be favorable. Keeping her around might be helpful if the club needed her services again. Perhaps Chibs’ apparent romantic notions towards the funeral director could work in SAMCRO’s favor. If she was an ol’ lady she might be a little easier to control. What was better than an asset that could do you favors than an ol’ lady that could provide favors for the club?

He knew of course that ol’ ladies sometimes had a way of biting you in the ass.

Clay made a silent choice to keep an eye on how this entire situation developed. He knew it might even be a wise idea to have Juice keep an eye on Y/N’s dealings with her brother as well as anything else she might be up to at least covertly. He wasn’t asking the man to stalk her, but to check in on her brother’s condition as well as her bank account. Knowing just what was going on with her brother and her finances might be a good way to keep her line even if Chibs screwed it up. Juice was the intelligence officer after all for the club. He could discreetly do some hacking and keep an eye on things.

It might be wise to keep tabs on their newest asset as well as Chibs’ apparent affection for said asset.

Clay spoke a heavy sigh leaving him. “I mean it Chibs, don’t fuck this up. I’m not just worried about pissing her off and having her back out of our arrangement. I’m also pretty sure she’ll throw your dick in the cremator if you piss her off. Pretty sure you don’t want to be dickless.”

“Aye, can’t say I do. We already gotta one nutted prospect…probably don’t need a dickless Son.” Chibs remarked not able to ignore the slight chill that ran down his spine at what Clay was describing.

He had no doubt Clay might have a point. Y/N didn’t seem like the kind of woman to let go of grudges. He was quite sure she was more than a quick wit judging by the outburst he’d been at the receiving end of at the garage the day before.

He stood up from his seat quickly deciding upon one more shot the entire exchange he had with the Club President making his head spin.

Clay watched the Scot disappear, narrowing his eyes at the closed chapel door. He let out a huff knowing he’d definitely need to keep an eye on things.

—-------------------------------------

Chibs was pleased to find he was right on time. He’d quickly realized upon his past few interactions with Y/N that she was not a fan of tardiness.

He guessed it made sense. In her line of work promptness was most likely a virtue. Her time was viewed as being valuable and not to mention one couldn’t exactly leave the bereaved waiting.

He shifted in place, thankful he’d managed to swish his mouth with mouthwash before he’d left the clubhouse.

The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to smell whiskey on his breath and write him off as a drunkard who couldn’t even face a date with her sober.

He found himself questioning if he should have gotten her flowers, but quickly decided the flowers might have to wait for a future date. He was determined to do what it took to get more dates out of this.

He reached up and rang the doorbell once again finding it so odd that a place like a funeral home could have such a pleasant sounding doorbell.

He raised an eyebrow not expecting the person who answered the door though he knew it should have been expected. The man worked here after all.

Skeeter gazed upon Chibs a sigh leaving him before he turned to call out into the space behind him his voice rose a little too loud. “Y/N, outlaw biker at the door for you!”

Chibs was left feeling even more confused by the response the comment received Y/N’s voice growing louder the closer she moved towards the door. “I’m not freaking deaf nor am I dead, Skeet. Why all the yelling and why are you yelling that phrase loud enough for any neighbor who happens to be milling around the property to hear you?”

She shook her head as she approached the door gazing up at her associate, a look that could only be described as scolding written across her features. He had a feeling Skeeter was often at the receiving end of this expression.

Chibs stared at the large wreath of lilies in Y/N hands. It was obvious she had been setting up for a funeral service. She spoke nodding at Skeeter. “You can let the outlaw in. He’s my dinner date.”

Skeeter rolled his eyes stepping aside though he looked as though he was not entirely thrilled with the order.

Chibs couldn’t help but to notice the way Skeeter gazed upon him a look of firm disapproval written across his features as Chibs entered the entryway.

Chibs made his way inside past Skeeter, gazing upon Y/N always having to admit he was entranced by the sight of her.

She was wearing another dress, black of course. The sleeves on this dress were a little longer though meeting her elbows. Her legs were once again covered with inky black tights, the dress ending right at the knees. The dress was tight enough across her bust that he noticed the very light hint of cleavage. She wore another pair of black heels, a simple pair of black pumps that managed to be just tall enough to seem fashionable.

He spotted the small gold hoops in her ears that were hard to miss given the fact that her hair was pulled back into a complicated looking bun. Her make up was once again light, it clear she kept it simple at work.

Chibs parted his lips wanting to exclaim that she looked beautiful and not just because this is what you were supposed to tell a woman on a first date.

He didn’t have a chance though as she gazed up at Skeeter. “Are you sure you’ve got it all? You know you can ask Old Charlie for help? I know his knees are giving him issues today but he can still help with the little stuff.”

“I’m not helpless, Y/N. I was doing this practically by myself for your dad there towards the end.” Skeeter replied Chibs not missing the slight grimace on Y/N’s face at the mention of her late father.

“I know, but you know we won’t have time to finish up all the last details before tomorrow morning. You’re sure they were fine with the viewing this afternoon? That Aunt kept saying her lips looked too pink. That was the right shade of nail polish that the husband brought, right?” Y/N babbled still not putting down the flower wreath.

Skeeter only rolled his eyes slightly, the man clearly accustomed to talking his boss down from these rants. “The Aunt isn’t paying for the funeral. Mrs. Jacobs’ husband was happy and that’s what matters since he’s the one who signed the check. Yes, the lipstick was right and the nail polish was the one Mr. Jacobs sent, Revlon Iced Mauve.”

She spoke nodding her head, her stomach in knots. It was clear she was still a little worked up clearly. Chibs raised an eyebrow, surprised she seemed much less collected than his previous interactions with her. “Remember the flowers changed for the casket spray? It has to be the white roses, not the yellow. The florist should be here in like twenty minutes. If it's yellow, then throw a fit and fix it. You call Hal the owner if anyone gives you shit about fixing it. You may have to adjust Mrs. Jacobs’ hair again too, just peek at it tonight before you leave and make sure to check the temps in cold storage. You have to remind me to adjust the curls before tomorrow. If you don’t see me do it, say something.”

“Y/N, you do realize I have a Funeral Directors and Embalmers license too right? I even trained under your dad, remember?” Skeeter remarked not shying away from getting a little sassy as he took the wreath from Y/N’s hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes, her hands resting on her hips as she spoke. “I know, I’m a controlling shrew though. We established this a long time ago.”

Chibs watched the exchange thrown off by it entirely. It almost felt like watching siblings bicker and not coworkers. He was almost a bit surprised that Skeeter seemed proficient in talking Y/N down from whatever rant she was on. It seemed that the man had experience in handling situations like this when it came to his boss. It was clear that there was a bond there that Chibs had not expected.

Chibs cleared his throat finally catching his company’s attention. Y/N sighed realizing she couldn’t put this off any longer. She felt a twinge of guilt for ignoring him in favor of taking to Skeeter about work. She knew she'd made it pretty clear she would much rather be working at the moment.

She did her best to give her date a tight smile as she spoke trying to hide that she had mixed feelings about their dinner date. “Sorry, big day tomorrow. I’ll go get changed, just give me a moment.”

Skeeter called out behind him as she turned to leave. “I am declining any calls from you tonight, just so you know. Quit being so damn obsessive. You’re a workaholic and frankly it’s exhausting me.”

“Shut up, Skeeter. I will come back there and slap you right in front of the outlaw biker. That’d be super emasculating for you and I generally frown upon workplace violence. Go finish setting up those wreaths.” Y/N called out behind her clearly accustomed to these exchanges.

Chibs raised an eyebrow, the interaction not quite what he’d expected for people who worked in such a serious environment.

He was once again taken by the feeling that he’d just witnessed two siblings poke and prod at one another and not two funeral home professionals engage in a work discussion.

It seemed that Y/N was prone to giving people other than the Sons a hard time. It also felt as though Skeeter was well versed in dealing with that hard time.

Chibs hated to admit that he felt a little uneasy as Skeeter turned his gaze back towards him.

He almost had the sense that the way Skeeter was staring at him was the way Chibs had stared at a few of his younger sister’s dates back when they’d been teens.

He was surprised that Skeeter somehow managed to look somewhat intimidating.

When Chibs usually thought of Skeeter he thought of him as being somewhat lumbering and awkward. The man was tall and pudgy. His brown hair was thinning and his eyes were a little beady. His head was large and squared making him appear all the larger and more oafish. He carried the energy of someone who was accustomed to being an outcast to be honest, though Chibs knew that around town people had long perceived Skeeter as being kind of creepy.

Chibs frowned debating if he should be a little sassy and ask if Skeeter was about to question his intentions with Y/N, however he did not have the opportunity.

Skeeter spoke his voice cool and clearly unimpressed. “Dinner date? How’d you manage that one?”

“Aye, goin to a diner to grab some burgers…maybe a bike ride afterwards. It wasn’t easy ta talk 'er into it.” Chibs replied, uncertain of what more to say.

He paused, clearing his throat recalling Skeeter’s comment to Y/N. “I won’t let er call ya bout work.”

“Bold of you to assume you can talk her out of doing what she wants.” was Skeeter’s only reply.

Chibs did have to smirk at the comment. It seemed Y/N’s associate knew her stubborn streak well.

Skeeter said nothing more, sending him one final glance of clear distaste before he turned carrying the wreath disappearing from sight.

Chibs frowned, wondering if Skeeter had decided that following Y/N’s order was more favorable to his self-preservation than standing around making some attempt to make it known that he didn’t approve of the fact that Chibs was taking his boss out on a date.

Chibs pushed the thought from his mind, having to find the entire interaction insightful. It seemed that Skeeter was fond of the woman Chibs hoped to woo though Chibs got no sense that the fondness was in a romantic sense. Chibs had noticed a certain hint of respect mixed with a desire to look out for Y/N radiating off Skeeter.

Chibs guessed that he might have to learn to tolerate the lumbering mortician if it meant being involved with Y/N.

Chibs wandered over to the china cabinet he’d spotted that first day he’d been in Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home allowing himself to study the fake garden roses a little closer. He guessed they appeared to be made of fabric, perhaps silk. They seemed pricey. He had to wonder if they were for decoration or meant as a display to show what could be included in a funeral service.

He reminded himself to ask Y/N about it sometime.

He let out a sigh knowing that thus far tonight hadn’t gone exactly how he’d pictured given Clay and Skeeter, but he was determined to make this work and hopefully win another date by the night’s end.

He didn’t have much time to focus on how he just might turn the night around as his date made her way back down the stairs.

He was impressed with how quickly she’d changed. He was pleased to see a tight fitting pair of jeans and casual black blouse that was far more low cut than anything she might wear in a professional environment. She had put on a darker shade of lipstick that was a deep crimson and taken her hair down from the messy bun. He was amused to spot another pair of converse this time the pair was black.

To be honest, as much as he liked the more sophisticated work attire he had a soft spot for the jeans and converse. He did have a distinct feeling though that Y/N would look pretty wearing just about anything.

She spoke, taking notice of the fact that he’d gazed at her feet. “I wear formal shoes like sixty percent of my working day. When I’m off it’s converse or barefoot, nothing between.”

She let out a soft sigh making her way to an old wardrobe that had been intricately painted with a floral design. She opened it, pulling out her purse as she spoke. “So, where are we going? You mentioned something about burgers?”

“A diner a wee bit of a ways out. Hope ya don’ mind a bit of a bike ride.” Chibs replied thankful he’d thought to borrow one of Gemma’s helmets for tonight and to bring the bike he usually took on runs given that it actually had a backseat. His usual bike that he rode on a daily basis was just a one seater.

The Dyna had always suited him fine. He didn't need the backseat he'd told himself. A space for a woman would just give the croweaters the bright idea that he might want one of them on his bike, Chibs had told himself. He didn't want any of the croweaters to think that he might be interested in regularly having them on his bike. He was surprised to find that he might just be interested in investing in a backseat though. He might just like the idea of having Y/N on the back of his bike on a more regular daily basis.

Y/N felt her heart drop at the mention of this ride. Chibs took notice of the look on her face fast to speak. “You’ve ridden a bike before righ?”

She tried to shove thoughts of her brother and how his life had been ruined. She knew her brother's past had never stopped her from riding with Jax or some nomad.

She gave Chibs a cool collected smile hoping the flash of pain hadn’t been clear in her features. “Of course. Let’s go before I remember something else I need to ask Skeeter about.”

“Aye, can’t have that, love.” Chibs remarked, taking her by shock as he placed an arm at the small of her back ushering her along.

She tried to hide the flush to her cheeks that the action caused glancing down pretending she was searching for her house keys.

She had a feeling surviving this date and keeping her complicated feelings sorted out was going to be a challenge.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telfordxreader #soa #chibs

49 notes · View notes