#andy serkis x reader

[death---dealer]

Snow Kissed Skin. ( Ceasar x Human! Reader, POTA Oneshot. )

A prequel to Flame Kissed Skin. Part of the Touching their Fur for the first time series. Up next: Noa.

Title: Snow Kissed Skin. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Implied! Caesar x Human!Reader. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications but nothing too heavy here. ) Words: 5.7K+ Summary: You wanted to know what Ape Fur felt like and Caesar always seemed to be around during these times to cure your curiosity.

READ IT ON AO3.

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It truly felt like your fingers were going to pop off despite their proximity to the blazed bonfire. Cupped lightly with wool mittens that you had scavenged shortly after the Flu, one of your most prized possessions as they never lost each other in all their years, the swirling of the colors of purples and grays fuzed together with a fuzzy outline were captivating enough to keep your attention focused so you didn't move your feet and slide down the rocks face first.

Or back first depending if you were quick enough to catch yourself. That would… Not be fun to see, you imagined and cringed at the visual inside of your mind of your butt parading down and carving your backside with cold snow as you let out shrieking screams.

Peering over your left shoulder at the rested perch above the Colony’s communal area, there was nothing to see. You figured. With no official business to attend to on the snowy afternoon you found yourself dancing in, there was really no need for a council meeting. You doubted that Caesar… Would think it was very impressive to see you fall as you were careful to turn your head back forward at the lack of Apes for you to meet glances with.

Well… Shoulders rose and fell deeply. Really, only one you wanted to capture a glance with. Only one you had bigger intrigue in since he was the one to allow you to stay with the Colony when you were found, half beaten to death four months ago. 

Tugging the disappointment away from your chest that began to blister, you looked beyond the bonfire at the weather itself that seemed to bend around the flames, snowflakes melting before they ever got the chance to kiss the ground. You liked the snow, it was not common in the area as it often favored sleeted rain that made everything slick with abundant moisture and not icey capsules. The cold on the other hand?

You could take it or leave it, considering your small hut did not have a firepit of its own. To no fault of anyone in the Colony, your home was originally a storage hut that was repurposed for your stay with them due to your Humanness, wanting to stay on the ground and not be suspended in air in the nests that lined around the cliff face. 

Maybe you’d have to talk to someone about getting yourself a fire, that would require though the entire ceiling to be repurposed for the ashes and plume to escape and building was not something you were particularly great at either. Getting better! Since you started living with the Apes, but still… You were just a Human and never had the knack to do such a thing. It was surely a chance of fate that you managed to survive years after the Flu, never taking solace in other Human Camps and stayed out of the way as sickness that plagued the world ravaged empathy and heart and they so often turned on each other out of spite and amusement. 

Not here… The Apes--- The Colony were welcoming to you when Caesar decided to let you stay and for that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere. Well… Most of them were, save for a Bonobo and a few of his Chimp pals that catered to his words of hatred.

That--- Was something that left you with a metallic taste in your mouth but their King was assuring and let you know that Koba would never do anything malicious towards you and would personally see to a punishment if that were the case.  Biting your bottom lip, you nibbled at it tentatively and attempted to keep your mind occupied until you got cold enough in the element to return to your hut and scavenge into your animal hides for the evening.

It was hard to not notice the lack of bustling today considering the Colony was usually so full of life with Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Orangutans and Gorillas shoulder to shoulder, eager to get things done for the improvement of their lives, but today? A well deserved break for all of them, your eyes fell shut and enjoyed the sensation of the heat against the thin skin, eyelashes tickling along your cheekbones.

Most of the Apes were bundled in their own homes with each other… How you wished to have that with someone. No one in particular, you tried to convince your train of thought from derailing towards Caesar once more and shuffled your shoulders a bit to cover the bits of your wrist that had popped out to the chilled air.

You probably looked crazy to them in your oversized jacket, layered atop a fleece sweater you managed to score a few years ago when the Winters started to turn for the worst, pink head cap that had to have been a child's but you managed to make it work against your flattened hair and a pair of sturdy cargo pants paired with your usual worn boots.

There were a few you spotted in your time standing in unwavering wait, never for Ape King in particular but… For something to do. Someone to talk to… It was a pack of two Chimps and three Bonobo’s who wanted to take a jab at what you would call ice fishing and you watched in amusement as they departed the front entrance of the Colony with their spears, their dark bodies becoming smaller and smaller until they disappeared in the white flurries between the trees.

They had fur, you knew that and gave a brisk smile to the fire in front of you as your gaze slotted open once more. Jealousy was not fitting to you but the idea of having a built in coat instead of having to layer seemed so nice… A luxury even but something tickled the back of your brain that you had no basis for.

Did… they get cold like you did? Wearing what you were, there was still a frigid aspect in your appendages, your blood felt like it was slowly taking its time running its course through your body and to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You’d never been allowed to touch an Ape before, you’d only admired the fur from afar when Caesar was near.

It seemed to thicken the last few months, but it was still evident in certain frames he put his broad body into that you were able to see the mild sheen of his skin underneath. So, not entirely covered, it beckoned you to answer it. Temptation yearned at your hands and trudged into your mind. Did… They get cold?

You caught hold of a bit of commotion from the direction of the horse paddock, not difficult in the silence that seemed to drain from the Heavens like the white snowfall. Recognizing the grunting as Luca’s, you slid your gawk curiously over and feasted upon the three bodies that you were able to admire. Such a Human tactic, prying into business that wasn’t yours but… Wasn’t that what Apes did?

They had very little semblance of personal space or even privacy; something you carried in your mind but it was hard not to take in some drama here and there when it was allowed. Rocket, Luca as you had figured and… Caesar. Hands were flying and capturing small flakes of snow between words, Rocket and Luca saying something to each other with flying hands before Caesar only nodded a slight departure. 

Nothing to be learned from that, you creased your eyebrows in and watched as the intimidating gait of the King himself came into a clearer view from the corner of your eye as you were adamant to ensure that he had not known you were looking for him, let alone staring. Caesar knew; it was something innate in the back of his mind when there was a set of eyes on him that were not meant to be at the time and more often than not lately, it was your glance that he would meet in the middle of a crowd. In the middle of his own people, there was a shift in Caesar only recently that tugged in the lower aspects of his desire to find companionship.

Human or Ape. You were interesting none-the-less and it was obvious in how he was looking at you upon his adamant approach. What… You were doing out in the weather, he had no idea. There was amusement scratching inside of his mind that you were waiting for him but that was not plausible as he saw the flushing of your cheeks, scorned red from the heat of the fire. You were warming yourself up and that was more of an obtainable answer to the Ape King.

Catching your breath in your throat at his stance as he came beside you, it was hard not to see the splaying of his toes against the slicken nature of the stone below, leaving heady imprints of his larged feet in the virgin snow. It was admirable as you were sure that if you moved with such a confident swagger, you’d be tumbling straight down the Colony’s slope and rear through the front gates on your back. 

“I-...” You huffed, watching the air escape your lungs as evident in the air in a white thrust of dust in front of your face. Swallowing hard, you shut your mouth and attempted to lubricate your dried throat and laughed slightly at your sudden onset of nerves. Caesar stared at you from his peripheral, mind cogging in on itself out of a desire to know what was going on inside of your own. Humans… They were expressive, the Ape thinks to himself but you?

You had this knack of covering up adverse emotions around him and it was frustrating. Fear? There was no way to tell. Intimidation? No way to deduce. Amusement? Maybe, he was able to smell your scent, vivid and natural as it was in his flared nostrils as he sneezed a snowflake away from being carded into his nose. Caesar drew a deep breath in, feeling the heat of the chill against his diaphragm like a blister against the muscles as you finally spoke. 

“Never seen snow here before. My grandpa… Used to talk to me about it. I guess back in… The day it snowed. Sometime in the 1970’s there was a big ol’ blizzard and it left the Bay pretty covered.”

“Ape… Adapt.” Caesar’s statement was clear and concise as if it were rehearsed. “Fur… Gets thick… in the Winter Months.” “Must be nice,” You smiled shyly, bringing the bottom half of your face into the collar of your jacket and kissed at the hem for a moment. Caesar watched with carded interest, snow falling against your lips and with a heated smooch, it was gone into condensed water and slid down the curve. “It’s hard now to find winter clothes that work. Most of the stuff I have is really old and falling apart. This jacket,” Holding your hand up, you waved the excess fabric around where you tucked your hand in on the arm of your garment. “Was a good find. I’d freeze to death without it, especially at night. Even without the snow it gets really cold----” “You do not… Have a fire.” That was not a question, more of a blanketed statement as it finally dawned upon him the inconsideration of not accommodating that. Hard to remember, he was quick to rationalize that and buried the desire to apologize for his lack of thought. Humans were weak with the cold. They had no fur. You--- Had none, Caesar drew another deep breath in at the consistent bugging in his brain that buzzed an urge to feel your skin against his bare and heated hand. Then, he’d be able to keep you warm himself… 

You had no resources any more to help other than layers like what was being displaying for him today, despite the displeasure in the innate fact that Caesar was unable to see the drifting of your breathing under such thick fabrics and it seemed as if your scent itself that was so warm and inviting was mildly dimmed too and washed with moisture that clung in the air. “Will…Take care… of that for you.”

“Soon?” You replied teasingly and earned yourself a rather stern stare from Caesar who huffed once more, a few more snowflakes making their home against his flattened nose. Cartoonishly shaped, it was one aspect of his otherwise striking face, burled and strong with the casing of his thickened fur around his features that appeared more delicate. The skin seemed slightly discolored around the bridge as well as less wrinkled than the rest of his face and you wanted to brush your fingertips along it to see if that was truly the case. 

Nodding his assent, Caesar peered at the sweeping of the bonfire and was able to feel the heavy heat coming onto his bare skin beneath the layers of his darkened fur. There, he understood the premise of why you were standing so barren by yourself. No fire in your hut, no other way to keep warm than to stand by the biggest of the fires that the Colony had to offer. He could… Offer you his own. 

No other reason other than the roof overhead to stop the drift of snow catapulting against your body and you’d adequately be able to warm yourself then. You’d even be allowed to stay the evening until Caesar worked something out with River, Ash and his own Son to fix the issue of your lacking blazed abode.

Would you… be accepting of that at all, if Caesar were to offer you to stay with him for only a night? Caesar hated to tear into the more Human nature of his thinking, it was years he went without speaking to one, without the pulling want to feel the reminiscent melancholy of his past and it was challenging to put himself into that mindset now.

Human Females were more sensitive and prone to embarrassment, you’d deny if he asked you to come stay with him and you’d most likely not even look him in the eye with your declining answer. 

Human Males would think nothing of the invitation. Will’s smile flashed in front of Caesar’s line of vision. Sitting atop in the attic, staring at the slated cold rain as it fell and his own young fingers playing with the condensation on his window that formed from the proximity of his hot body---.

“Do you ever get cold?” 

Caesar was torn out of thinking, his eyes focusing back in upon the rapture your voice brought him along with the fluttering beat of his heart against his rib cage due to the mixed exhilaration of opening the door of his past and the more animalistic tear that struck at the base of his neck at the prospect of taking you back to his nest and slotting his larger frame against yours. All in the sake of keeping you warm, he’d justify it as his teeth sank into your neck. All to keep you… Hot.

There was a small plume of chill evident in the air as you spoke, cascading against your line of vision as you looked at Caesar who appeared to be ice-caped now, your stare unable to tell what was his naturally graying fur versus snow caught between the small hairs of his fur coat. 

To see the fluffy nature of the flakes catering themselves against the very cusped outline of Caesar’s body was a masterpiece. His fur caught it… At least it appeared to before it leaked into his skin, somewhat water resistant in its own right and it was hard to pretend that the snow melting against his body heat wasn’t turning into small droplets of silver either to be casted to the ground below or to freeze against the tips of his nearly blackened coat.

Each of the white specks, individual and loved, seemed to highlight just how dark his coat truly was and how dense it appeared against the scape of his skin. Crunching below your weight rested an inch or two of white crisped and virginal snow that fell inwards with your steps as you allotted yourself to stand next to the imposing Ape King. 

Caesar looked at your mouth momentarily, liking the way that your breath was clear for him to see instead of having to rely on the rising and falling of your shoulders as was usually the case. Had you… He tilted his head only minutely, something that was not detectable to your eyes as you reached a fabric clad hand and wiped some flakes that were kissing your cheek away from minored annoyance against your already chilled skin. Had you truly never felt an… Ape’s fur before so you lacked the answer to that question? 

Surely, Caesar thought to himself and felt a deep rumble come from the bowels of his chest. Not bemusement in the slightest, but it cracked with ardent hilarity in the chortle that followed. From the look on his face, it appeared as if you asked a stupid question and you felt mildly scolded.

It… was a pretty stupid question to ask, obviously they got cold otherwise most of the Ape families would not be spending their afternoon in the homes in favor of braving the weather like you were so stupidly doing. His brow line rested endearingly against the stare of gold and green, the only color it seemed in the monochromatic backdrop that the snow eclipsed the Colony in with its silent fall. 

“Have you not felt… fur before?” “Sure,” You stammered, feeling heat rise between your legs to shatter along the vertebrae of your spine. It danced itself against the back of your skull, uncomfortable like you had bugs crawling in your hair under your winter cap. It was a question you had a ready answer to, expecting the blunted nature of the inquiry from a mile away. Caesar was like that; brash and willing to take what it took to get his point across, sometimes even to the point of acute and aggravated awkwardness on your part.

Maybe that’s what you found so attractive about him, your bottom lip drew itself between your teeth and you pensively nibbled at the flesh. Other than outward appearances that you found… Appealing…

  “I have plenty of animal pelts I was given when I first---” “Ape Fur.” Caesar corrected himself quickly, hoping it didn't come across as too aggressively forward, “Have not… Felt… Ape?” “O-Oh…” Nodding, you laughed awkwardly into the collar of your jacket and shook your head minutely, something the Ape King noticed as he himself nodded in understanding to your silent answer. “Uh… I’ve ne-never really been close to one before.” Your voice was cracking around the edges and you prayed to whatever God there was that it was not detectable from the shackling of the fire. 

“I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to be!” Were did that come from? W… Were you flirting? Your mind yelled and pulled in on itself as your cheeks deepened a shade not from the warmth of the fire, unable to look towards the Chimp who was so focused on the profile of your expression, trying to discern what you were rambling on about. “I didn't mean it like that--- I just…”

Groaning, you turned your attention back towards the fire rather than the broad body of the Ape beside you. “No. I’ve never… Felt… Your kind of fur before. Is it different than…” Racking your brain through the hides you had in your hut, you rested on one animal that you thought was a fair comparison, “Bear?”

“Not as… thick.” It was clear in the cadence of his words that Caesar paused to think of the correct adjective to use. It was always easier for him to sign his thoughts, speaking was only second nature with you. “O-Oh…” There it was again, that amusing plume of white around your face with your exaltation, Caesar watching with bated amusement as it faded closer to your forehead and you laughed slightly, shuffling your feet as you felt your toes becoming numb. This time… You were unsure if you’d be able to blame that solely on the cold or if the nerves had become too great to handle and the nerve endings in your body were flaring as an attempt to get out of the situation you found yourself in. “So you do get cold?” Caesar shifted his brow just slightly as he looked at you and posed the foreboding question that was always going to plague this conversation, “You would… like to feel?”

“No---”

“You may if you… Would like.” The overlaying of your lying denial with Caesar’s impressive acceptance of your curiosity tangled in your mind and replayed itself a few times. It left you feeling reeling as you processed and looked down at your feet, bringing your right foot forward and crunching down on the snow that resided there and scarred it with a half imprint of your boot. “I-I don’t want to feel like… You’re only doing this because---” “You should… Know if you are to live as one of us.” 

Your eyebrows creased at that, wild implications running rampant in the words that Caesar chose to use. You had never been one to doubt your position in the Colony, you were just a Human. Sometimes, it felt like you were a pet of sorts when you did something so strikingly Human and it garnered stares. Never once had the idea of becoming one of them by proxy cross your racing mind as you looked towards Caesar and finally captivated him in a dance with your full expression. With the ambient orange glow of the fire against the backdrop of the slaten white, you appeared confused at first until the Ape was properly able to see the creasing of your eyebrows and the slight drawing of your mouth upwards. There was no attempt to stop the frozen hackles lined against Caesar’s broad shoulders from rising out of anticipation as you pulled your hands out from the enclosure they were in, tugging at the mitten of your right that were condensing heat against the digits. Caesar admired the way your small fingers came into view, splaying themselves against the hardened cold breeze, sweat that was playing at his nose from between them all too enticing as you shoved the mitten into the crevice of your jacket pocket. 

Once again as you did out of nervousness, you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard, the pink skin turning momentarily the same hue as the crisped snow and Caesar held a hand out for your stability as you shuffled towards him to close the gap of less than a meter that was placed between you. Staring at the motion, you likened to the flakes that fell against his hot skin and melted upon impact. 

The pure white against the darkened flesh that had seen its share of demise and loss, the pull that his thick fingers had on you as you reached your hand out, accepting the help so you did not slip on the ice so you could readjust properly to touch him. All things, your mind needed to remind itself, were things done out of consideration of your nature. Not because of the attraction that flurried between Caesar’s eyes and your Lightly, the woolen nature of your left hand placed itself into the leathered drench of his palm and you peered at your feet as you twisted. There was irrational intimacy. There were no other Apes around and even with the blizzard of the flurries, would they actually be able to see anything as you released Caesar’s hand with a small smile of a ‘thank you’ and stared at his shoulder. So… You were just supposed to… Touch him? Apes… did not have the same attitude towards personal space, this was probably something as normal as breathing to them… Something as normal as sleeping… Gesturing your hand forward, it hesitated mid-air.

What if you touched him too familiarly? What if Caesar did not like the way you held him? Why would that matter!? The ration side of your brain dragged you back to your senses. There was nothing here other than an Ape wanting to expand your horizons to see them as not threats, but as a Family you had been accepted into without your explicit knowledge. Not that you had ever seen them as threats, your gaze softened as you broke the barrier of frost that was lining against his furred shoulder. 

Caesar resisted the temptation to release an exaltation and in return drew a headied breath inwards and let it linger in his lungs. He had not felt this… For so long, the running of another set of hands against his body out of disputed pleasure on both parties; disputed in his own way but not so much against yours as he was able to detect the change of your scent that was muffled. Amused… Arousal, juxtaposed and playing deliciously against each other.  

Not since Cornelia, Caesar resisted the urge to drop his eyes into a flattened state of vulnerability. Not since her passing, it never seemed appropriate to take in the minor delectation of what Caesar had been missing for nearly eight years now. It felt new. The way your hand shattered the tiny ice particles and drudged into the deepest core of his thickened coat, still thinned you realized compared to a bear's hide, Caesar had not been wrong in that aspect at all. It was incredibly coarse towards the fur line against his skin, softening as it draped inches outwards.

It was a ridiculing texture, beckoning into the primal part of your mind that it was all for show and that Caesar felt the way he did in order to draw you in. And you were drinking it up like it was water, metal shavings to a magnetic force of great power.

How sickly marveled you must have looked to him as you stammered a foot forward to get more as if your hungry hand was not already devouring everything it had wanted for the last month when the attraction to the Ape King sprang into your consciousness. It was so nice; the way that the coarse hairs tickled at your skin, the wallop of tufted mane rose and fell as you put forth a sweeping motion back and forth to study. Not a pet in the slightest, Caesar’s green and golden eyes flickered to the action you placed forth and released the tension of air he had held in. 

This time, it was your gawk that got to admire the way that the air dissipated from his thinned mouth in a crest of iridescent white near his face. Nearer than you had thought as you were able to feel the hotness on your expression. Caesar was more enjoyable than the stagnant and cold bear pelt you had as you could feel the high temperature of his skin right under your finger pads. 

“It---” You tilted your head to the side in wonderment as you grasped a handful and let it sink between your fingers. If Caesar was pained at all by the sensation of your pull, he did not show it as he was still as could be, perhaps a bit softened in his expression as his eyes hooded at the delicacy it was to be… Touched so affectionately. Human… Touches were different, the Chimpanzee decided. They were different, the muscle bounced in reaction to being touched as you brought your hand back to play against the grain of which his fur naturally grew, you were different with your grazes and Caesar wanted more. 

“It’s not as thick, you’re right.” That was said half-heartedly, needing to verbalize something in the moment to tear yourself away from taking your other mitten off and absolutely ravaging against his entire body. You wanted nothing more.

“As… I told you.” Caesar’s voice only waved around the edges, not detectable to your ears but it was racking against his own eardrums. A moment of seeped weakness at being touched. “So you do get cold?” 

You asked once again, looking at the King with slight cross eyes due to the proximity of which you held yourself against his commandeering stance. You could feel the tiny vibrations of his fur as it rose on reflex as your fingertips finally made more adamant contact with the muscles that draped below. Instantaneous it felt, the reaction and you found it difficult to pull away from the notion that Caesar was allowing you this pleasure in the first place. 

He was strong, your eyes ample at the back of your hand. Stronger than… you had thought, the muscles he carried against his bones were dense and hard, but how strong was he? Would Caesar be able to pick you up like you were nothing? Would he be able to snap your neck if you so desired him to do so? Maybe if you were lucky, he’d do just that. Maybe if you were bold enough and tugged at the fur in your possession would Caesar snap and take you---

In your touch that began moving with more intentions rested all of these questions, your mouth parting as you exhaled harshly in time with Caesar as he blew out of his nostrils; his own desperate attempt to keep his own questions at bay. Would you be willing to touch him harder, more fervently? Would you want to touch the fur on other parts of his body?

Against his chest, he’d let you run your hands down against the abs that were fleece lined and only noticeable at certain angles. Your stares during those times that Caesar caught you staring confirmed you were at least interested in feeling, or so he figured and kept to himself. Your scent at those moments in time told Caesar you wanted more than you were getting, or maybe he was running away with the idea out of piqued loneliness. 

What was he meant to think? What was the Chimp meant to feel? That tugging in the bottom of his stomach that danced downwards to flare against his pelvic bone. So Human by design it was, the urge to consummate out of a winded impulsed fun instead of primal desire to mate out of necessity.  Would you revel in feeling the hardening of his muscles and maybe even more if you so chose?

“Yes.” 

Was the response that was as simply put as anything else, Caesar’s tone nothing more than a rambling baritone caressing the innermost parts of your ears as if he were speaking directly into the shell below that body part. There was no need to complicate the matter. There was no need for Caesar to cure your morbid curiosity. There was no bridge that needed to be made as you swallowed hard, feeling the stiffening of your esophagus with that.

There were no others around to concrete the gap between Humans and Apes and it was resting on you now, your arm pulling itself back into your body as you squeezed your fingers together out of unspoken cravings that finally came to fruition. “It-It keeps you warm enough  though, right?” Caesar rolled his shoulder. Not to be taken as offensive, he was unsure of how to process the sensation of your hand print drilling into his skin now that he had gotten a small taste of it. Never again unless you were Mated. This was only to show you. To demonstrate and to satisfy your questions. You would perhaps touch another, his stomach churned in on itself out of unfamiliar jealousy. Caesar had no coping mechanism for that in itself ugly entirety. With the acceptance of you as part of the Colony, you were free to choose whom you wished and there had to be acceptance of that. There was nothing here other than Caesar’s want to help you understand Apes. Caesar’s… thirst to help you understand himself…  

Adjacently dilated eyes met yours as you felt all the air leave your body at once and the warmth that Caesar’s fur had blessed your hand with left you feeling chilled from the intensity of his stare, “Most… of the time.”

“And when it doesn’t?” “Ape… Learn to deal.” Caesar’s voice was once again a low grumble from deep in his chest, your gaze falling to the scar that lined his right pectoral and as you shoved your hand back into the homely hug of your mitten, scorned forever knowing that you knew how he felt, you wanted more. You wanted… To touch him there, downward…

Down his thick waist and against the pelvic bone. Pressing there would be a delight, you wondered how Caesar would react. Down his proportionally shorter legs and then back upwards against the grain of his fur and torturous with your intended languid pace. You wanted it all, feeling emptiness against your palm as it kissed the wool mitten. “Harder… for Humans to adapt. Harder to… Deal.”

“Unless you let me borrow your fur, then I don’t think I’ll be much use during the Winter then.” 

You muttered shamelessly, unsure if your voice came out as confident as it sounded in your mind. Unsure if your words even made sense to the Ape who had very little concept of flirting, let alone subtle flirting. It was reckless you knew. It was fruitless, no doubt.

But there was a tiny lingering shock of electricity that even Caesar could not deny when you broke set standards you both abided by day in and day out by letting the inquiry of the unknown come to light. You were riding on that as you peered at him, watching the crease form between his brows as Caesar ran through your words a few times to understand the deeper meaning. 

Caesar huffed at last as it hit him with cognition, looking towards your neck and seeing the very base from under the collar of your jacket and sweater. It beat quickly for him. Hardened and paced to please as was the way it felt against his navel. It lingered painstakingly and unfamiliar for him,  “Will… Build your hut a fire first. Then… See if you truly need my fur above all else.”

[eupheme]

k03. submission + restraints | in your hands

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 2.7k

tags: sub!(and bossy)alfred vibes, use of alcohol, established relationship, references to stress/stress relief, restraints, teasing, oral sex (f rec), PiV, aftercare

When Alfred confesses he’s having trouble getting his mind off his work, you’re all too happy to lend a hand.

The Tower is dark when you get there.

Following the low hum of plucked jazz notes through the hall, until you find Alfred in his study - fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Eyes screwed shut. His other hand grasping the rim of a half-drunk scotch.

You know he works hard. Too hard - have seen the dark shadows under his eyes. Your bed empty when you wake in the morning for far too many days in a row.

How much he does for Bruce. For you. Always putting himself last, as he works his knuckles to the bone.

Cracked and bleeding, and he still won’t say a word.

“Hi, baby,” Your voice is soft, from the doorway, “Long day?”

His eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice. Smile soft, as he sets the glass down on the side table, lined up neatly on the coaster.

“Something like that.”

You can see the weariness in his face, as you slip onto the seat next to him. Meeting into the press of your lips as you greet him, letting loose a long-held sigh.

“Glad to see you, darling.”

“Me too.” You smile, “Any way I can help?”

The look he gives you is soft, a hand dropping to squeeze against your thigh.

“I don’t think so, love. I need to step away, actually.” He sighs, “But I just can’t ever seem turn it off. For better or for worse.”

Thick fingers tap against his temple. You place a kiss there, and he leans into your touch with a stifled groan.

“Keep seeing things I need to do. Things I never have enough time for.”

Your lips brush his cheek, right at the edge where his stubble is scraped clean, “Think you need to rest. You’re pushing too hard.”

His eyebrows raise. Another sip of his drink. The soft smack of lips with him hum, something close to a half-hearted smile, “Think I’m far too old to be learning new tricks, darling.”

There’s a dozen instances on the tip of your tongue that would prove that statement wrong.

Instead, your head cocks - considering.

You’d been sitting on a partially-solved puzzle for weeks.

Something about the way Alfred’s posture had straightened when you first met, when Bruce assured you that butler would “see to your every need.”

The way his eyes dropped too quickly from yours, after - the blush that began at his ears, rose-petal pink. Caught and stamped down before it reached his cheeks.

Of course, it hadn’t meant anything - an acknowledgement to his role of seeing over the Manor.

But it had been there again - months later. The way his hips had flexed hard into the mattress as your fingers tugged on slicked-back curls.

The pleads for “more” and “harder” turning sharp as your orgasm had rushed towards you. His fingers pinching into your skin with your command, as he all but groaned into your messy cunt.

All too eager to please.

Maybe he just wanted - needed - a firm hand.

Maybe it could be yours.

You wish you had your own drink, to steel your nerves. A breath that you hold for a heartbeat, before your asking.

“I could do that for you.” It comes out hushed.

“Show you how to turn off.”

His eyes flick to yours. Silent consideration. Curiosity sparking, in the sharp chips of blue.

Not an outright denial, leading you to babble, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before.”

The look in his eyes when you ride him. Head tipped back against the pillows. Unable to help bucking into you, fingers pinching hard enough to bruise. Handing over the reigns a little too eagerly.

Desperation edging into his tone, when he begs you to come for him.

That look simmers in his gaze, now. Head tilting towards yours, letting you close the gap. A soft hum when your mouth slants against his. Lips parting when your tongue licks at his lip.

A rough groan, when you deepen it.

Leaning into him, his torso twisting as your hands wander - a palm against his chest. The other at his jaw, feeling the way the tight tension in his neck loosens.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want, baby.” You murmur, against his lips - as if he wasn’t still deadly, sharpened steel wrapped in silk, “But if, if you want this-”

“Yes.” It’s hushed.

It’s permission - your eyes dark, hungry, when you lean back. A curve of your lips, almost surprised at how quickly he answers.

“You’re going to listen to me?” You clarify.

Alfred is a stubborn man. Cleverer than most. Set in his ways - used to being in charge, even if you can see through the cracks.

“Going to be good for me?”

His jaw grits. The heave of his chest against the tight vest. Your fingers still resting above his heart. There’s a jerk of his chin - you can feel it against your lips, as they press to his jaw.

“Words, Alfred.”

There’s a sharp inhale at his name. You rarely use it. Soft sentiments have worked their way into your vocabulary over the last few weeks. It slams into him, his voice going low and rough.

“Yes, darling.”

Heat curls inside you. A considering look, when you lean back. Fingers tracing over his neat uniform - that crisp, white shirt. The tidy vest. A black tie, fastened at his throat.

“Do you like this tie?” Your fingers hook around the knot, gently tugging, “I mean, would you be upset if I wrinkled it?”

Alfred fingers twitch. Torn between loosing it himself, and keeping his hands somewhere more interesting. Tracing along your legs, the curve of your hips.

“You may do as you like.” He husks, “With all of me.”

His words make your thighs press together. Already damp from his mouth against yours. Fingers working the fabric free, twisting around your fingers as you consider.

“Wrists together.”

He’s obedient, in the way they touch behind his back. A beat, before you bind him.

“You trust me?”

It’s a loaded question. The amount of times Alfred has allowed himself to be vulnerable in the years after he became Bruce’s guardian could be counted on one hand.

His voice is low, rough, as he answers.

“Always.”

There’s the flex of his muscles as you twine the tie around. You can hear his inhale - swallowing words down twice. Lips curving, so certain he’s prepared to offer his thoughts.

Advice on how to tie better knots - ones to properly restrain him - instead of the pretty ones you make.

Thinking better of it, for you.

He shivers, when your lips press against his bound wrists. When you loop the ends into a bow, tugging them straight.

“Pretty.” You hum, leaning back.

Already thinking of some improvements. Admiring the pulled-back flex of his shoulders. The dark glitter of his eyes, below the severe brow.

“Bedroom, I think.”

There’s a divan at the foot of the bed that you’re already picturing a use for,

He follows, allowing your hand to rest on his arm for balance. Testing the bindings with your fingertips, as he follows you through the conjoined door, into his room.

There’s a folded blanket on the arm that you lay out in front of the couch. He kneels without asking, and it sends a thrill up your spine. Settling yourself in front of him on the cushion, legs spreading on either side of his hips.

“I want your mouth on me.” You tell him, trying to set the tone.

The edge of his lips pull up, “You’re wearing a bit too much for that, darling.”

“Already talking back?” Your brow arches, “I thought a good little solider like you would want to listen.”

His eye darken, focused on how you work the sweater from your shoulders. Folding it slowly, setting it beside you on the couch.

“Haven’t been a solider in a long time.”

“A butler, then.” You coo - his eyes fixed on your chest. Tracing the pretty lace as he waits. The slight crease in his brow when your fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings, instead.

“You’ll tend to my every need, right? It’s your duty, after all.”

He can see where the fabric dampens between your thighs. No answer, except for the rough exhale of his breath. The flex of his shoulders, a reminder that he can’t touch you the way he wants.

Those eyes greedy, when you lean forward to work on him next. Carefully unfastening his vest. Working each mother of pearl button loose, until his shirt hangs open at his chest.

Hips shifting, when you loosen his belt. Leaning into the way you palm him. Not expecting how hard he is already, straining against the expensive trousers.

A stifled groan as you work him free. Letting his cock rest against the pushed down fabric of his boxers, cradled in the deep dip of the open zipper.

Exposed, to your view.

“There we go,” You hum, voice low. Admiring.

A finger traces along his shaft, his cock bobbing beneath your touch. His jaw gritting, to bite back a plea as you settle back against the couch. Your panties tugged down your thighs, laid on top of the pile of clothing where he can see them.

Alfred leans forward when you finally rest against the back, but your hand presses against his shoulder.

“Impatient,” Your tongue clicks. Fingers catching his chin, thumb smoothing across his beard.

Two fingers against his lower lip, with the twist of your hand.

“Open.”

His lips part automatically. A rough groan buzzes against the pads of your fingers. You don’t even have to tell him to suck - his eyes already closed. Another shift of his hips, rutting into air.

The pinch of teeth when you withdraw, as if to keep you for another moment. Another rough sound, when you fit those fingers between your thighs, instead of letting him taste you like he wants.

Biting back a soft sigh, as your fingers circle against slick flesh. Thighs inching wider as he shifts closer.

“You’re teasing me?” He husks, eyes narrowing.

“Distracting you.” You hum, “Are you thinking about work?”

He groans - a sharp, sideways jerk of his chin.

“Thinking about your pretty cunt, darling.” It’s almost a growl, ”You said you wanted my mouth, yes?”

Your hips lift into your touch.

“Then let me use it.” He coaxes, that rough edge pitching into need.

A beat, as you consider. The slow shift of your hips, as you angle them at the edge of the couch. He’s already leaning forward - your foot lifting to press against his thigh to halt him.

“I want you in me after,” You tell him, “So you don’t get to come until I say.”

He moans, and the second your foot shifts his head so he can tongue at your clit. Something ragged mumbled out - a “thank you” that’s drowned out by your own cry.

Open-mouthed kisses pressed against your pussy. Devouring you greedily, making up for the lack of his fingers with the way his tongue dips inside you.

Groaning into you, when he tastes how wet you are.

Unable to help the flex of his hips. Panting, when your fingers twist into his hair. Mussing the tidy strands, when you guide him to where you need.

You know what it’s like - his effect on you, how you’re putty in his hands.

How he leans into yours now, unaware of the way his cock drools. The string that drips from him, how his length jerks each time your fingers tighten in his hair.

But you notice. You see how far gone he is. The pretty haze in his eyes.

“You close already, baby?” You coo, “Want me to touch you?”

“No,” His chest heaves, as he draws back for a breath, “Don’t deserve it, need to make you come first.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to argue. To tell him that he deserves that, and more. That you’d give him everything.

But you think he must need this.

An edge creeps into your tone, soft and commanding.

“Then make me come.”

Your words shoot through him. A ragged groan when your thigh hooks over his shoulder.

All his attention narrowing down to the flick of his tongue against your clit. To the sound of your breath, every little hitch of your hips. Everything that tells him what you need.

Knowing just how to bring you over the edge. Leaning into the words that slide from you, the praise slipping over his skin.

“Fuck, right there.” You whine, “Gonna make me come, baby. So good for me-”

He keeps the exact pace you need - your breath growing short, as your orgasm crashes over you.

Riding the high of doing this for him. His sweet submission, that eagerness that rolls off him in waves. That knowledge that if you hadn’t told him not to, he would have spilled all over the floor some time ago.

The bliss courses through you, hips bucking into his tongue. Alfred doesn’t stop, until your hands find his jaw, gently easing him from you. The pleasure still throbbing deep inside - almost aching from the way he drew it out.

He has been good.

Intent on pleasing you. Needing it, but every man has his limits, and this is his - tasting you, while being bound like this.

Trying so hard to hold himself back. To listen, to ignore that deep clench in his belly. That urge to shift forward, to rut himself against the fabric of the couch until he’s spilling against him.

He can taste you on his lips. You’re smeared across his chin, against the dark bristles of his beard.

“That was so good, honey.” It comes out breathless. His lips part with the praise, knees pressing into the blanket as his thighs shift wider.

“Come here.” You coo - fingers against his chin again.

Drawing him up to you, your mouth meeting his as he kneels. Tugging him closer, “Wanna feel you come for me. You can do that, right?”

His moan comes out ragged.

You have to guide him into you. Reaching between down to line him up - he sinks into you the second he feels the tight clutch of your pussy around him.

Losing himself, in the way his hips jerk forward. Pushing himself deep, hips pumping as his arms strain against the binding.

Unable to touch you the way he’d like, and it drives him mad - head bowed as he watches the way you take him, again and again.

Could try to make you come again, and he wants to - that urge burning through him. Almost begging you in hushed tones, wanting to feel you one last time.

“Make it up to me later.” You tell him, and when your leg hooks around his hip to drive him deeper - that last bit of control slips through his fingers.

He’s coming with a ragged moan on his next thrust. Pleasure still ripples inside you - and the way he comes undone so quickly send another wave rushing through you.

His hips stuttering as his muscles string tight. Lips parted, grunting as he throbs inside you. The stress sloughing off, the pleasure turning him mindless.

Only aware of the tight, warm grip of your pussy around him. The sloppy drive of his cock, as his thrusts grow shallow. Trying to keep himself buried deep as he comes.

There’s still the sharp pinch of the tie around his wrists. Still holding him at your mercy, a place that he puts himself willingly.

Eagerly.

He’s always been yours.

Alfred is boneless against you. Lips parted as he pants, a warning sound when you try to slip free.

You stay another minute - pressed full of him. Kisses pressed to his cheek, his temple, as your hands slip behind. Loosening that knot.

Guiding him onto the bed when he finally lets you rise. Carefully tugging off his clothes.

Smoothing lotion onto his wrists - he’ll have to keep his sleeves rolled down tomorrow, with how hard he tugged on his bindings.

Lips pressing against his pulse, his limbs still limp in your grasp.

“Still worrying about work?” You ask softly.

He stirs then. A low chuckle.

“Actually,” There’s the curve of lips, a tired smile.

“I’m not thinking about anything at all.”

thank you for reading! 💖

[stargirlfics]

The Gentleman Chapter Six: Tremble

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: Scarecrow threatens to bring Gotham to its knees while you and those you love find yourself caught in the middle

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, mentions of chemical weapons, anxiety and hallucinations, mild angst and hurt/comfort, competency kink, alfred being a soft dom, smut: soft spanking tw, body worship, oral (reader receiving)

Word Count: 12.0k

This chapter is finally here and I actually cannot believe the journey it has been from when I started working on this, having months of difficulty writing and then I just write this massive chapter! I’m really happy to be sharing it and I hope it’s well worth the wait. I really appreciate and cherish all your comments and love and patience especially on this series, it means so much 🤎

[series masterlist] [series playlist]

At the mercy of impending catastrophe, an entire city was holding its breath in sick anticipation.

News of Scarecrow and his fear toxin was everywhere one went, anxiety climbing with every hushed discussion and passing day without answers.

His motives were still unclear and everyone was trying to decipher the severity of the message he had left: This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear the Scarecrow.

What was to come next? And would you be ready?

Trust in Gotham’s institutions was few and far between for most, though you did feel a little more hopeful with Mayor Bella Reál’s steady presence in public lately—even still, people were bracing themselves. 

For you that meant dance rehearsals were still being held so stage time was abundant, the exotic performances and the allure of the Iceberg Lounge were quickly becoming a good means of escape for many in the city. 

You wanted to dazzle the audience, satisfied when you could suspend their belief that this was just a dance and convince them nymphs and sirens were real and alive in front of them instead. 

It was easy to throw yourself into the work if you thought about it; counting steps and turns while the band played their hearts out.

There was no other competition, the shimmer and sparkle of the costumes, the lingerie underneath even more dazzling, opal pearls and diamonds adorning your lush bodies caught every single eye.  

Five, six, seven…a spotlight shines down upon you, such a pretty beacon of desire, of the passion flowering so strongly in your own heart until there’s nothing but you and the music.

You left nothing on that stage at the end of the night. 

Especially not when Alfred was in the crowd watching you with an ever growing adoration. 

He made the effort to catch a show when he could, waiting with roses for you afterwards and no compliment or praise spared from your ears if he could help it. 

It was amazing how much things could shift, how nervous you had been the first time you knew he would be watching and now you welcomed it, relished in his promise to show up for you simply because he thought your talent and love for your artform was worth it, that you were worth it. 

And of course how could you forget his handwritten letter with such neat and elegantly written words, the very letter that sat on your nightstand since your date in the bookstore when he presented it to you and made it all official. 

You read over it in the late night hours and in the morning when you woke up wishing he was next to you, until you could recite every word he had written by heart. Weeks ago you would have felt anxious about entering a relationship, not wanting to go through heartbreak if your feelings weren’t the same but now you understood Alfred would never let you stand on unsteady ground. 

He hadn’t since the first moment your paths collided, the memory of it still so vivid you could practically hear the echo of your pounding footsteps on the concrete hurrying to reach him, taking a chance on a stranger and embracing him out of fear only to come away from it with your pulse racing for an entirely different reason instead. 

Something solid and gentle had formed here and you wanted to be cocooned inside of it forever. 

Your friends definitely didn’t hide their excitement that you were “basically dating a member of the Wayne family!” as Roxie had put it. 

She was the first to tell you she wouldn’t mind at all if you slipped Bruce her number. Bambi was already ride or die for the relationship, as was Amber and then Kiera’s encouragement of all things romance on top of it all certainly made this a fanclub if you’d ever seen one. 

Truthfully though their reassurances kept you from letting the tendency to overthink get in the way, making sure you knew that the way Alfred treated you was everything you deserved. 

Grateful felt like too simple a word but it’s perhaps the best word to summarize the way you felt about each of them. Elated in how they celebrated this with you, a sing-song chorus of excitement when you told them about his letter in the chat or how everything went after he spent the night at your place for the first time. 

It kept you hopeful, appreciating everything you had just a little extra.

Fresh snow dusted the windowsills of The Magpie where you were counting down the time until you’d have your evening free to spend with Alfred. 

You would see him in just a few short minutes anyways, with Bruce in tow for a meeting with the mayor and her team but knowing you’d still have some time before you truly got him to yourself left you feeling a little antsy. 

The bar had already been wiped down twice and you just checked on the handful of people sitting around for brunch, most of them talking and finishing off their drinks for the time being. 

So you settled on people-watching, polishing the crystal whiskey glasses while you did, arranging them in a stacked pyramid and you were almost done with the menial task when Bruce Wayne sidled up to the bar.

“Oh, hey! Can I get you anything, Mr. Wayne?” you greeted him with a smile, doing your best not to make it obvious you were also looking to see if Alfred was nearby.

“Please just call me Bruce, you don’t have to keep it so formal, really I insist. And just coffee if you can.” 

“Sorry, habit. I can get you some coffee, any sugar or cream?” you were laughing to yourself a little, forgetting that you didn’t have to address him so properly every time. 

You still did that with Alfred sometimes, a ‘Mr. Pennyworth’ at the tip of your tongue on occasion which always came with a playful scolding. 

“No thanks, I’ll take it as is,” Bruce corrected, thanking you again when you set the steaming mug down in front of him. “Oh, before I forget. He may have told you this already but when time allows it Alfred likes to try and get Dory and I together for a proper Sunday dinner and if you’re able to this coming weekend, I wanted to try and surprise him.”

Oh, how thoughtful! Quickly realizing he was inviting you to join them in this tradition of theirs made your heart swell and you hastened to accept. 

“That sounds so nice! Of course I can be there. Should I bring anything, dessert maybe?” 

“Yes, that would be perfect actually. It’ll be nice to have you there..uh, I know we haven’t had much time to speak but thank you, it’s good to see him happy lately and that’s because of you.” 

Bruce’s usual shy, reserved tone was more open, a little softer and you felt relief knowing that you had his approval in a way, maybe not wanting to admit to yourself that it had been a quiet worry all this time. 

His and Alfred’s relationship was on better working ground now and you didn’t want to complicate that or make it any more difficult for them to connect in the way they needed and it was very clear from the start that they did need each other and cared for one another fiercely. 

This was good, really good. 

“I’m glad and that’s okay by the way there’s been a lot going on you’re probably just as busy as he is, if not more, I figured we’d get to talk at some point. I really do just want to make him happy and I hope you know he is because of you too, he’s so proud of you.”

Your last few words saw the very rare edge of a smile before he took a sip from the mug, face turning stoic again.

Speaking of Alfred, he walked in the very next moment, as effortlessly handsome as usual. His suit was a crisp charcoal gray, a black tie tucked perfectly into that pristine waistcoat you knew felt smooth under your hands, the familiar gold accents of his wristwatch and cane pulling it all together. 

He always looked incredible but god did he have you weak from halfway across the room today, those kind, blue eyes finding you with ease. 

Waving him over to the bar, you started making his usual cup of Earl Grey, sharing a sheepish smile when you greeted each other. 

“Good to see you, darling. I hope you’ve had an easy morning.” The depth and lull of his voice and that accent sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, distracted from hearing the affection in his tone. 

“I have, thank you,” setting his cup of tea down on the bar counter, you leave the milk out for him to pour how he likes, “Hope the meeting goes well, you’re gonna kill it!”

“That’s very nice of you. I imagine it will, what we’re proposing will benefit the city and they seem receptive to Bruce’s ideas, which is all we can ask for.” 

Beaming at him you nodded encouragingly, giving yourself a few more moments to talk with the two men before the mayor arrived and they were whisked off to a more private table. 

Kiera came in not long after that, you were really just working the morning to fill in for her until she could get here but your plans to leave with Alfred right after his meeting lined up with the timing anyways.

An hour passed ever so slowly, the meeting finally finishing with what looked like good spirits from everyone and before long you were saying your goodbye’s to Bruce since he had to head out while Alfred lagged behind to take a phone call from his office. 

Bundled up in your coat, you waited by the hostess stand content to watch the snow flurries begin to fall outside, such a stark contrast to the warm, crimson interior. 

Not sure how long you were lost admiring the view, a warm hand slides across your lower back drawing your attention in a gentle caress you’re sure you’d know anywhere.

“Ready to leave?” Alfred held his hand out for you and kissed your knuckles when you fit your palm against his.

The eager nod of your head and the accompanying excited giggle gave you away but you didn’t care to hide how much you’d been looking forward to this evening with him. 

“Ready.” 

Outside the air was chilly, coats zipped up a little higher while you discussed what the plans were for the rest of the day. 

It was still fairly quiet out on the streets, the business sector in this part of the city always a bit more empty than the bustling traffic of downtown that you were used to, at least before dinner rush anyway. 

Nothing out of the ordinary piqued your attention until Alfred was pausing mid-sentence, asking if you heard what he had heard.

“No, what-” but no sooner than you had opened your mouth, the faintest recognition of what sounded like a scream could be heard. You flicked your eyes up to him in concern. 

Had it really been a scream? Or was the frigid wind playing tricks on you, whistling through the air?

The same sound rang out again somewhere in the distance, only this time you both were able to hear a distinct shout of “HELP!” following it. 

The mood had suddenly turned urgent but it was as if you could only move in slow motion until you realized that at this very moment, the other shoe had indeed dropped. 

Chaos was the only way to describe it, more shouts piercing the air but nothing prepared you for the wave of people running out into the street in every direction. 

You can’t be sure exactly what’s going on or what everyone was running from but the gears were already spinning in your mind and you don’t hesitate to move when Alfred hurriedly nudged you to follow him, clutching onto his jacket as he guided you to cross the street where his car was parked around the corner. 

But you wouldn’t make it more than a few steps off the curb.

The flow of the crowd was too dense, too panicked and you were jostled as you tried to keep your feet steady on slick, snowy pavement.

A gasp was knocked loose from your throat when someone shoved past you, upsetting your balance in the process, the impact forcing you to let go of Alfred’s hand.

Fingers flailed but it was no use, you couldn’t move fast enough and soon more people pushed themselves between you on all sides which meant he couldn’t reach you either. You were quickly losing sight of him, legs feeling like lead as you tried to follow the sound of his voice shouting your name but there’s too much noise to filter out. 

No, no! Where is he? I can’t see him anymore.

Your heart sank realizing you’d lost him in the crowd, even as frantically as you were searching for him there were so many people dashing past as you also tried to keep moving that you knew it would be impossible to find him like this. 

You were separated and on your own. 

Now it felt like your sense of direction was off, not sure if you were still headed in the right direction towards his car anymore, the whole world feeling like it was swallowing you up.

Deep breaths, just take a deep breath. Keep moving. 

You had to repeat it to yourself in order to stay calm, trying to reassure yourself that somehow you could make it out of whatever this was but a pang of worry for Alfred made you feel nauseous. 

Unwelcome thoughts of something happening to him threatened to take root amidst your struggle to think. Hands moving on their own volition, you reached into your bag to fumble for your phone; maybe you could could get a hold of him by calling, sending a text, could find where he was and try and make your way to him in the event you ended up making it to the car and he wasn’t there.  

Seconds later, up ahead of you, a truck swerved to avoid a group of people rushing into the intersection which sent everyone scrambling to move aside, inadvertently knocking you off balance again. 

Stinging pain prickled in the meat of your shins, rattling all the way up to your temple when you collided with the cold concrete, eyes going wide knowing it wasn’t safe to be on the ground like this. 

But it didn’t matter because had you not been knocked to the ground you weren’t sure you would have noticed it: the shiny silver canister nestled in a pile of snow not six feet away. 

Something didn’t feel right about this. It felt like you were being herded to this point.

Under the noise of so many footsteps and all the commotion you heard it click, a slow whistling hiss coming after. The sound grew louder but you were already scrambling backwards trying to put distance between you and the cloudy plume of gas extinguishing from the cylinder. 

This had to be the fear toxin, this had to be him. 

Fresh screams dotted the blood rushing to your brain through your ears, dread forming a hard lump in your throat as you watched the gas diffuse again and mix with the falling snow. 

Loosening your scarf you folded it over your nose and mouth hoping it would buy you some time if you weren’t breathing as much of it in, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t already. 

Your heart was hammering in your ribs when you finally found your footing and could stand, ignoring the strain in your muscles or how your skin felt raw from where your tights had snagged and torn from crawling on the pavement. 

Now that you were on your feet again your surroundings were more familiar.

It’s how you spotted the mouth of an alleyway to your right, knowing exactly where it would lead, recognizing the rust red fire escape peeking out from the side of the building. You hadn’t realized you traveled back this far but you’d take it, at least you’d be off the street this way. 

The disadvantage of this was that you were working against the flow of bodies but you tried to keep your stance wide and square out your shoulders so you couldn’t be pushed quite as easily, and there was something else…a noticeable difference in how people were acting. 

It wasn’t just panic in their eyes, pupils glazed over and blown wide, this was an erratic look of fright. This toxin was confirmed to cause hallucinations which could only mean there had to be dozen’s on this street alone who’d come in contact with it. 

You could only imagine what awful things they were seeing, your voice ricocheting against the clamor of sounds trying to warn whoever you could. 

Just then, the quickest flash of gold appears in your peripheral and you hear your name again turning in time to see him, Alfred, shouldering his way through the crowd. 

You stared in awe, questioning for a split second if you were starting to see things too but he was really there fighting and pushing his way through the packed street to get to you.

The small relief when he reached you, both of his arms locking around you this time before ushering you the rest of the way. Slipping into the alleyway was easy after that. 

“Are you hurt? Darling, look at me please! Are you hurt?” His voice is chalked with concern, a clipped edge to his tone that echoed against the brick wall you had slumped against to catch your breath. 

He’s already looking you up and down in careful assessment. 

“I’m fine! I’m okay..I think, but wait, Alfred! This was intentional, the gas it-” the words come tumbling out but you fall short at the nod he gave you. Of course he had pieced it together. You’re gulping before noticing his cane is missing. “What about you? I was so worried when we-” the words died in your throat for a second time remembering how you got separated in the crowd. 

You didn’t trust yourself not to cry. 

“Me too, sweet girl but I am alright. I was far more worried about you.” and it’s the tenderness in his voice that makes you sniffle. 

Screaming cuts through the brief moment of rest and you both agree you need to get out of here, deciding to stay off the main streets. If you could cut through a few alleyways you’d be able to get to his car.

His hand is once again steady in yours, thumb passing over your skin trying to soothe you while your own fingers return pressure here and there, beyond relieved to be next to him again even with a million more worries arising. 

The damage had already been done though, time beginning to move slowly, buildings looming high above feeling suffocating, as if maybe you’d never find your way out, every muffled cry or scream from the streets a terrible chorus. 

A loud squeal and the creaking of metal a few feet ahead halted your steps again, Alfred’s arm thrown back to push you behind him. 

Four men filed out of a side door, the hoods of their jackets pulled up so they were shrouded in shadows, both of you just barely avoiding being seen. 

Alfred had hastened to backtrack and slip behind an empty delivery truck in the alley that provided some cover without close inspection but was still too close for any sort of comfort. 

Everything in you went quiet and still, clammy fingers gripping Alfred’s bicep a little tighter, grateful you were wedged between the side of the truck and his body. You don’t want to look their way again but your anxiety rises at the thought of not knowing how far away they were so you risk a peek over his shoulder. 

Your blood goes cold almost instantly, breath sucked from your lungs when a fifth man stepped forth. 

Dead eyes pierced through a ripped burlap hood covering the man’s head, its crooked stitching reminding you of an old scarecrow only the rest of him was clad in a suit. All you felt was dread. 

“Keep your eyes peeled.” a distorted command came from behind the decrepit hood.

There was something terrifying about the way this man moved, it was creepy and sinister, your suspicions confirmed when you spotted more of those silver canisters peeking out from his suit jacket just before he was slinking away, moving out onto the street ahead flanked by those four men, each with a weapon in hand. 

Tentative relief came seeing the distance increase between your position and theirs but you weren’t out of the woods yet by any means with one more street to go.

Counting shallow breaths one by one, you waited until the crunch of their footsteps on the snow faded enough to move ahead safely. 

Alfred squeezed your fingers to get your attention, motioning for you to follow him from out behind the truck carefully. It was best not to stay idle here too long.

In the midst of trying to process what just occurred you didn’t notice Alfred pull out a small blade until you saw it clenched in his left hand, noting the way he kept it tucked in towards his palm so that outwardly no one could see it was there. 

His other hand gripped your arm, keeping you from being able to move from behind his back as you crept forward together, a defensiveness in his movements that made it seem like this was just muscle memory for him. 

Here he was, protecting you, keeping you calm this whole time and though it wasn’t surprising anymore you were still a little struck by just how much he cared for you, your wellbeing. It bled through into every part of him and that had your heart clenching. 

When you finally made it out of the alley fresh worry spiked like ice inside your chest, attention drawn to every direction trying to make sure nothing would catch either of you off guard now that you were no longer under the cover of the city’s alleyways but at last, after what felt like an eternity, you had arrived. 

Unlocking the car and seeing to it that you were safely tucked inside, Alfred was skillfully weaving the sleek vehicle through the streets in no time.  

—

Everything felt like it was turned upside down.

Sirens and police cars whizzed past, headed in the direction you’d just left behind and you could only watch as the weather turned dreary.

Alfred checked in every so often, comforting you with reassuring glances, a soft squeeze to your knee which you returned with a weak smile. You were sure he had noticed you shivering as well and felt appreciative of the warm air circulating through the vents. 

Remembering your phone after a moment you fished it out of your bag, replying to a string of texts from Kiera who was worried sick and thankfully still safe inside where you last saw her. 

Scrolling through the rest of your messages and missed phone calls that kept pinging in your notifications you let each of them know you were safe until it hit you that something was missing, a sudden gasp catching Alfred’s attention.  

“Do-do you think Bruce is okay? He left a few minutes before us. Maybe he managed to miss all that.”

“I’m sure he made it through, but he’s not been answering his phone. We’ll be at the Tower soon and we can check.” 

It sounds hopeful but the crease of worry between his brows makes you wonder. 

Trying to cling to the more hopeful outcome, you attempt to keep bad thoughts at bay with the idea that you’d see that swath of dark hair emerging from the staircase as soon as you step into the foyer. He just had to be there. 

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet but the noise in your head made up for it. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen—Scarecrow. How close you’d gotten to the fear toxin but so luckily managed to avoid it, a sick feeling in your stomach seeing what it did to the people around you. 

Whatever his big plans were for the people of Gotham, you were sure they were horrifying. 

Anxiety drips from your shoulders when the car finally comes to a stop, limbs heavy again as you soar up to the penthouse floors from the parking garage elevator and it’s only when the low hum of the lift stops that you let go of Alfred’s hand, the doors opening to a suspended silence. 

It only took a few minutes and a quick search to see that it was evident Bruce wasn’t here. 

Your stomach was twisted into knots again waiting patiently while Alfred tried his cell phone one more time. Each trilling of the dial tone felt longer than the last and your heart sank once it went to voicemail. 

“If he has his location on, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him.” He takes a deep breath, pacing the floor trying to think, to come up with answers. 

Wringing your hands wasn’t doing much to ease the tension in your body so you forced yourself to lean against the solid wood table of the main room. 

Touching something solid seemed to help and you wanted to be helpful to Alfred right now, at the very least supportive in the effort to find Bruce, hoping anxiety wouldn’t take over everything.

Mentally you were running through a list of possible places near the incident that he could be, fingers flying to your phone to search news updates, find out if Bruce’s name had been mentioned anywhere. 

“Christ, I’ve found him! His phone is at the GCPD building. He can’t have been there for very long yet.” 

“Okay, that’s good. He’s probably okay then if he’s there of all places, right?” your question is tinged with a cautious optimism as is Alfred’s responding agreement but you still feel unsure. 

“I’m going to head there regardless, surely he’s fine but I don’t want to take any chances. I wish he would answer his bloody phone, though.”

He sounded like such a dad in that moment you might have laughed if the circumstances were different. 

“Maybe he’s there with the mayor too, they walked out together before us, it was probably the first place he would think to go especially if they saw something related to what we saw.” you offer a little reassurance and reach out to squeeze his shoulder. 

“Smart girl. I’m sure you are right.” Alfred sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Fngers pinching the bridge of his nose before he slips his glasses from his breast pocket and puts them on, focused in on what needed to be done once again, typing out a few messages to Bruce in the meantime. 

“I can come with you, just in case he’s in trouble or, or.” you don’t want to go any further with possibilities and you aren’t sure how to articulate your uneasiness at him going back out there on his own even if he could handle himself. 

It upset you to think you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t know if something else were to happen. 

“Oh my love, I appreciate that. You’ve been so brave through all this and I do want you with me but more importantly I need you safe and staying here will ensure that. I don’t want you in harm's way.” he’s setting down his phone to cup your cheeks, moving in close so his nose brushes yours gently. 

You want to protest but understand that he’s right, the lump in your throat returning as you look at him. 

He was being strong, for you, keeping it together just to make sure you weren’t any more frightened than you needed to be but you could see the stress in his features and knew you needed to be strong for him too. 

“I don’t like it but I understand,” you relented with a whisper, leaning into him a little more, unconsciously trying to hold on. “I’ll stay here but just please be careful okay?” 

Alfred moved back a bit so you’d look him in the eyes, a determination in them that takes away some unsettled nerves. 

“I promise I will be. I’ll keep in touch as well, as soon as I find out anything you’ll get a call.” His soft murmur came in between the gentle press of his lips against your forehead. 

His kisses were effective in calming you even if it didn’t help the reluctance to part from him, you know he has to go and don’t want to delay him any longer. 

A new wave of emotion crests at the way he fusses over you before departing; making sure you were okay to be here alone for a bit, reminding you to eat something soon and that there was a change of clothes still in his room if you wanted to shower and take off your torn tights and snow dampened sweater. 

The anxious shake of your hands was better even as you kissed him goodbye, returning his thoughtfulness by making sure he had a pair of gloves and another cane from his collection in hand before hurrying off, your feet lingering for a moment longer after the elevator doors close behind him. 

Now…the waiting began.  

—

Barely twenty minutes have gone by but you’re restless and there’s a sharp tension in your shoulders all the way down to your hamstrings that won’t ease up even when you try to relax. 

Wayne Tower was quiet and far too empty, the methodic tick of the old grandfather clock in the foyer and your footsteps all the sound she’d bestow.

Sitting still has proved to be impossible so you wander the halls, count the steps each staircase you go up, try to roll out the stiffness in your neck little by little. 

It’s only afternoon but the skies are gray and dark, some heavy kind of shadow cast over every corner that could be touched and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it but have patience. 

News updates are slow meaning no one knows anything concrete yet, just that nearby hospitals were starting to get an influx of people affected by the fear toxin and police were all over the scene of the incident and surrounding areas. You’re just glad it seemed to be isolated to the few blocks you had navigated around earlier, nothing else occurring elsewhere in the city. 

That certainly didn’t mean these incidents weren’t going to spread, you were fully prepared to hear of more fear toxin attacks in the near future with so much mystery still surrounding Scarecrow.

This whole thing felt deeper than what you could see at the surface but all you could come up with were questions and more questions. 

But there’s no use in giving yourself a headache, not now at least, your phone ringing abruptly and Alfred’s name illuminating the screen. You’re answering before the second ring, taking a deep breath the moment he tells you everything is alright. 

Bruce was indeed at GCPD headquarters when Alfred got there and the pair were in the process of giving statements about what they saw related to the attack so it was looking like they were going to be there for a while yet. 

You don’t get to speak to Alfred for long before you hear him being summoned and you’re wrapping things up, wishing him well before he leaves you with a promise that he’ll update you as things go. 

Your body felt much lighter now that you knew they were safe, the tightness in your chest dissipating as you finally allowed yourself to unwind a little.

Stomach still too tense to try and eat anything yet, you opt to take a shower instead, the change of clothes and the hot steam of the water would do you good. 

Finding the familiar path to Alfred’s bedroom was easy, his space inviting, kept as tidy as ever but you still see all of him in it. 

The faded bookmark sticking out of the novel on his bedside table, his nighttime reading glasses that lay folded on a stack of books to the left, and the tie and cufflinks atop his dresser still there from when he was getting ready this morning you imagined.

You’re comforted knowing you’re surrounded by his things and you’re further softened seeing your clothing items amongst his from when you stayed the night for the first time, everything neatly folded in the way you’ve learned he liked to fold. 

Thoughts of him lingered as you retreated into the warmth of the shower, adrenaline slowly leached from your body, swirling down the drain with the soapy water. 

You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from the last hour and a half until your eyes started to feel heavy but you don’t want to get out just yet. 

It feels safe here and you’re already too far gone indulging in daydreams of your boyfriend, the thrill of being able to call him that now—the same one who practically bouldered his way through a crowd of people to reach you. 

In the moment there hadn’t been time to really think about it but now that you were alone with your thoughts, it’s all you could replay. 

Or maybe it’s all you wanted to think about but either way you wanted to drown in whatever strength and steadfast skill Alfred possessed, heart fluttering thinking of how every movement was intentional, the way his entire body pivoted to shield you, keep you safe as you moved through the streets, the switchblade he so effortlessly and quietly had ready and the expert flourish of his wrist when he pocketed it in the car. 

Yes you knew he had been a soldier, had seen combat and was skilled in more areas than you could count, you could only imagine all the technical and psychological training he had from his days as an intelligence agent and though you took those parts of him seriously, you also couldn’t help but find it all deeply attractive. 

Where words could not be applied, he showed you. 

Refreshed and in more comfortable clothes, your mind felt a little clearer even if having to wait was still difficult but you try and be patient for another update, checking in with your friends in the meantime.

Alfred’s bedroom was warm from the steam still escaping from the connecting bathroom and you felt far too cozy here to venture back downstairs so you climb into the large bed and curl up on his side, comforted by the fact that his pillows smell like him. 

No longer restless from the quiet aura in the air, fatigue rolled in, the energy to worry had faded quickly. Instead you began to drift off, the allure of resting pulling you under so easily. 

Your phone is still clutched in your hand as you oscillate between worlds, thinking of Alfred and that “oh my love” that had left his lips so tenderly, understanding now why your breath caught in your chest after, why you’d been persuaded to listen. 

He refused to let you dismiss your own wellbeing when thinking of others, your importance to him was too great to let you follow him into the unknown even if he’d feel much better having you by his side.

Nothing was going to happen to you if he had anything to do about it. 

You hadn’t ever been shown this much adoration before and so fiercely and consistently at that and you slip into a light slumber thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. To know perhaps, somewhere etched deep within you that it was exactly that. Love. 

An unending flame, a sewn red string, so viscerally real it had you swearing to nurture it always. Even in sleep you know you’d never dream of stopping.

—

Winter sun had just begun to set when you were woken up by the sharp buzzing of your phone. A text message. 

On the way back now, Bruce is with me. Hope you’re doing alright, I’ll see you soon, lovely   x Alfred

Smiling at the good news you rub the grogginess from your eyes and reply back before tucking your face back into the pillow for a few more minutes. 

Your nap had lasted an hour or so and afternoon was quickly spilling into evening as you blink the last remnants of sleep away and check the time. Anticipation and the rumbling in your tummy finally get you up. 

Taking a few moments to fix where your curls had flattened to your head from laying on your side, you fluffed out the small coils until it looked the way you wanted, padding down the old staircases and into the kitchen soon after. 

You wanted to try and make something quick to eat for when they got back, you were sure if you were hungry they must be too especially after everything that had happened, all the extra energy spent. 

A quick browse through the fridge and pantry had you grabbing ingredients for sandwiches, absentmindedly putting everything together and you’d just stacked the last one on the plate when you heard the elevator chime and you didn't bother to put anything away, rushing out to the foyer right away.

You don’t care that you’re running, feet carrying you forward with their own motivation, you’ve waited long enough and it’s a complete and total relief when Alfred and Bruce step inside.

Alfred saw you first, a grunt that turns into a chuckle resounding through his chest when you all but crash into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that he returns immediately, his own arms sliding across your torso to pull you in close. 

Not a second more apart, that is all you wished out of the rest of this day. 

“I’m so happy you guys are back. What’s going on out there?” you compose yourself after a moment.  

“Half the city is shut down right now, people are scared and staying inside judging by how empty the streets are.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair while he explains.

You almost don’t notice that his fingers are smudged in some sort of dark ink or paint, the color reminding you of motor oil, thoughts racing as to what could have happened, what he might have seen. 

“Are you guys doing okay?” you’re asking quietly as you all walk into the main room, hoping you hadn’t pressed too much too soon, just worried by what their faces won’t yield. 

Alfred shrugs off his coat and rubs your shoulders to comfort you. 

“We’re both alright, darling, don’t worry.” He's reassuring you, steady and measured voice calming you enough to where you begin to let yourself focus on how delighted you are to see them. 

Bruce is the first to head to the kitchen when you mention you made sandwiches if anyone was hungry, his thanks echoing down the hall. 

You take a moment then to greet Alfred properly, kissing him soundly, spine tingling when he returned the kiss with a sweet pressure that gave away how much he missed you.

“I’m so sorry it’s been hours, their investigation is a big operation and nearly everyone needed to speak to us. Are you doing alright? I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon." He's looking over your frame again, almost like he can’t help but check for himself one more time

“I’m okay, I promise! Actually doing a lot better now that you’re here. It was hard not to be a nervous wreck for a second there but I took a shower and ended up sleeping for an hour and that really helped.” you’re sighing contently against his shoulder. 

“That’s my girl. I am so proud of you for how you’ve handled all this today, I really am. That’s great!”  

His words were so full of praise and affection it flusters your thoughts and you’re glad he can’t fully see your face lest he notice how much you’re affected, how much that just made you want him, but you reasoned it wasn’t the right time for romantic feelings and desires to take hold yet.

Not when there were still so many questions and things to be talked about, so you stow away those thoughts for the moment, already sure the tension would be palpable when you were able to be alone. 

Maybe it would only be a little longer left till then. 

Eventually the two of you joined Bruce in the kitchen, everyone feeling a little more settled after eating, able to process and debrief about what madness you’d found yourselves in today. 

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how it felt but it’s all you could manage to say, not quite sure how you were able to make it out of the chaos in the streets unscathed save for a few bruises, it all felt like a bad dream come to life and everyone feared that the worst was still yet to come, that sick feeling in your gut returning with the thought that they were probably right. 

Dusky colors peeked over the horizon as the three of you tuned into the five o’clock evening news hour, wary faces glued to the TV as the first solid pictures of Scarecrow flashed across the screen. Your knees bounced nervously where you were sitting on an old loveseat, the reminder of his hooded face making you shiver. 

An eerie cell phone video showed him moving down a street with his henchmen, people screaming and writhing on the ground from the toxin. 

It seemed like he enjoyed what he had caused, a maniacal glint to his eyes, in the way he moved his face under that hood you swore had to be fused to his skin by the way it looked on him. You had to look away after the third loop of the video, an attempt to keep any nightmares about him later at bay. 

Some information was given about the initial incident that sent everyone running; the toxin had been released inside the vents at the City Hall building near The Magpie, gas canisters later found in the ducts like the ones you’d seen in the commotion, lying in the snow so coincidentally. 

Having confirmation that it had been planned like you thought only produced more confusion with the sudden wish to have been very wrong about what was going on. 

Premeditation like this could only mean this man was cunning and careful, that he’d only been caught on video and surveillance footage because he intended to be seen and that terrified you to realize. 

When you dared to peek at the TV again you immediately had to do a double take, up close photos of the men flanking Scarecrow in the video popping up, showing you what the men you saw in the alley really looked like out of the shadows. 

You wanted to throw up. You knew for sure that you recognized one of them. 

The same man who had been following you when you ran into Alfred that morning you met completely by chance.

It couldn’t be, you didn’t want it to be, as if you could kid yourself into believing you’d forgotten his face no matter how hard you had tried since that day, but it was him and a shudder rolled down your spine at how much of an awful turn this was. 

Your small gasp of surprise caught Bruce’s attention and you noticed his careful gaze shift from the screen to your face in a question, figuring out what you’re stuck on trying to explain before you can get any words out. 

“You know one of them?” there’s something in Bruce’s tone you can’t discern right away. 

“I..yes I recognize him,” your sigh was heavy, followed by the point of your finger when the man’s picture was shown one more time. “Don’t know his name or anything but I do know he works for Oz, I’ve seen him around the Iceberg Lounge pretty recently.” 

You took a deep breath before turning your attention to Alfred who was also listening curiously.

“I should also mention that I found out he was the man who was stalking me the morning we met. Oz sometimes uses his men to intimidate the dancers who get out of line with him and I may or may not have injured his pride the night before. I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner I just didn’t want to upset you with it.” 

You cringe inwardly, anxiety rushing in all over again now that you’d said it out loud. 

That incident had been something you tried not to give too much thought to, you’d been careful, always were and hadn’t had any more issues with being followed, even got back in Cobblepot’s good graces lately as well but seeing that photo brought it all back. 

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, darling. That’s quite alright and more than understandable, I think you know either way I’d always be upset knowing he sent that man to stalk you but I would never be angry with you about that.” Alfred spoke gently. 

You’re relieved he isn’t mad at you even if the guilt that lingered made you worry.

Maybe you’d make a point to bring it up again when you were alone and able to discuss it in the full context of your relationship, you were sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little extra reassurance about it. 

“Thank you. I don’t know what to make of this but I am a bit shocked Oz would be connected. He’s looking for opportunities to climb up in the crime world, all of us know that and he can be sleazy and he has a reputation for a reason but for him to be part of something like this if he really is involved is extreme.” you chew the inside of your cheek, pondering if your boss had made a deal with the devil in his search for power in Gotham. 

Men like him were all smoke and mirrors with a penchant for easily bruised egos but these revelations had you questioning things. It wasn’t a good thing to know too much in this situation and right now, you were making one too many connections for your liking. 

You would just have to be more vigilant now, especially around him. 

The investigation into today’s fear toxin attack was still ongoing and every news outlet was clamoring for updates and solid information that was nonexistent right now, Bruce finally turning off the TV after a while. 

There would be a press conference tomorrow, maybe the city would know more by then but for now it was no use to any of you to rewatch the events you’d already experienced firsthand today. 

Bruce announced he was going to shower and call it a night and wished you well if he didn’t see you again, adding that you were welcome to stay any time if you didn’t feel safe going home and he was glad you weren’t hurt after everything. 

It brought about a smile to your face again to know he didn’t think any differently of you and made sure you felt welcome.

You were remembering his offer to surprise Alfred with a proper dinner this weekend and though what happened today seemed to put a huge damper on things, you hoped that could still happen. 

Closeness and company was what you all needed right now. 

After helping Alfred tidy up the kitchen a bit he offers to drive you home and your face must have indicated your disappointment because he was quick to explain he had every intention of spending the rest of the night with you, just thought you’d want to be in your own space after such a taxing day. 

He was right, as comfortable as you felt here at Wayne Tower you did miss your apartment and your bed and the familiarity of being in your space but you were also relieved to know that he was still looking forward to making the most out of things this evening. 

Of course he’d never leave you wanting or wishing. 

Trying to hide your eagerness was a challenge, a new kind of adrenaline in your system as you watched Alfred gather some things to take with him because he said he’d be staying the night too which meant you’d get to have him to yourself after all, putting excitement back in your veins after you’d been quietly hoping to be able to wake up next to him in the morning.

When you finally left the Tower, the streets were just as barren and quiet as Bruce had said, it was eerie not seeing any of the usual traffic. 

The only semblance of relief came from seeing that familiar bat signal lit up in the sky, a few hopeful beams cutting through the gloom in the air. 

Nothing was going to be the same moving forward and most of the city had been bracing for this since the first threat. It was only a matter of time but tonight, you wanted to forget for a little while and just take all the comfort and quality time with Alfred that you could. 

He was as protective as ever walking up to your building and doesn’t fully drop his guard until you’re both inside and the door is locked. 

Home at last!

Falling back onto more recent patterns, the space by the door is filled in with Alfred’s shoes, his coat hanging up next to yours, his presence in your apartment making it feel the most complete it’s ever been. 

He insisted that you let him make an evening cup of tea for both of you while you sank into the couch cushions, browsing through movies to watch together before you agree on something comedic and lighthearted. 

Eventually he joined you and somewhere in between laying your head against his shoulder and the middle of the movie, you finished your mug of chamomile tea and Alfred had pulled you into his lap.

And somewhere between then and the end of the movie you fit yourselves together so you could be cuddled against his side, your leg draped over his to make space. 

He’s so solid and warm that you’re helpless to sink into his hold, unable to explain why his arms made you feel so sweetly held, so comforted that the feeling radiated through just the mere mention of his name. 

Maybe it’s why the tears eventually came, when you knew you were completely safe and able to feel all your emotions fully after hours of having to push through.

It didn’t take Alfred long to notice your quiet sniffles though, catching the moment some of those tears spill over in silence. 

“Ohh sweetheart, it’s alright you’re okay. I’m right here, can you tell me what’s on your mind?” His words are soft and patient and spoken so gently you feel more tears come. 

“Today was just a lot…like I keep thinking of when we got separated in the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was at that moment. It’s probably all hitting me now I think,” the waver in your voice could have broken his heart. 

“It was a lot and you’ve done such a good job getting through it, you know that was a brilliant idea to use your scarf as a mask? You have no idea how proud I am of you! But you are right, that was terrifying, I was so worried you were hurt or trampled or worse, can’t imagine how caught off guard and disoriented you must have felt and I am so sorry for that, darling.”

Alfred kissed your temple, fingers careful when he began to wipe away the salty streaks left behind on your cheeks and nose. 

You wiggle yourself a little closer and nod against his shoulder, “You found me though, you made sure I wouldn’t be hurt even if you did almost give me a heart attack thinking I’d never be able to find you again.” 

This time there’s a genuine, shy laugh at the end of your words. 

“I’d always find you, you know that right?” his tone shifted to a slight seriousness, still comforting but there’s a weight to his words that steals your breath. “There isn’t a time, a place or a world in which I wouldn’t come find you, wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe, you mean far too much to me.” 

You cried a bit more when all of that sentiment sank in because you trusted Alfred so much you knew he spoke truthfully, it wasn’t just to ease your emotions he meant every word and in turn, you’d felt every word. 

“I know, I don’t doubt that one bit. I know we talked about this earlier but I do want you to know I didn’t intend to keep that information about Oz sending someone to stalk me a secret from you. I promise I’m going to be a lot more careful around him now too.” 

He wiped away the dampness from your lashes before simply shaking his head at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“That would definitely be wise going forward especially since we don’t know how deep his involvement goes but I also don’t want you worrying about how I feel, sweet girl. That was always yours to tell if and when you felt ready and it meant something greater that you trusted me with that knowledge, that I can be a place of confidence for you.” 

When would he ever stop rendering you speechless?!

You began to think the answer was never and that was just fine honestly, your heart so taken with his patience and diligence to validate your feelings whenever it was needed, no shame or dismissal involved.  

“Sometimes I think I just need a little extra reminding but you’re right I do know I can trust you with anything that’s going on, with anything I’m feeling.”

“Good, that makes me happy. I may have been thinking about putting you over my knee for thinking such silly thoughts that I would be upset, but there’s not a single thing you have to apologize for.” 

Oh.

You forgot how to breathe after hearing that, something lighting up inside you imagining yourself over his knee, accompanying thoughts of being toyed with, spanked, squirming and helpless under the grip of those strong hands of his followed swiftly.

He’d figured it out now, reading the change of your expression for what it was, latent desires rising to the surface.

You untangled yourself from his embrace to sit up for a moment, further distracted when he clasped his hands behind his head, shirt pulling taut over his biceps. 

“Thanks for reassuring me, if I ask again feel free to do that though, think I might actually get it through my head then,” you teased shyly, “I guess I am being silly, you did after all muscle your way through a wall of people to get to me, which by the way was very impressive.” 

He laughed at your compliment, the sound low and gravelly to your ears, pulling you in. 

“Mm used to be a boxer, love. I’m flattered you think so.” 

Oh wow. Again your interest in his skills had been piqued and he must have seen the flicker of an urge to ask further in your eyes because he continued after a second. 

“Well, field medics like to have fun too and it was the army so we were all trained in hand-to-hand combat; boxing kept us in shape and gave the lads something to do, to focus on. I still try to keep up with the training, Bruce and I spar a lot of the time, we have since he was old enough to throw a punch.” Alfred tilted his head at you a little, reminiscence on his features for but a moment. 

A stray image of potentially watching him spar one day landed right in your lap and it was incredibly hard not to involuntarily scoot your leg further up from where it was draped over his thigh. 

He was so damn attractive it wasn’t fair. It made sense, the boxing, connecting why his shoulders were so defined, the tone in the muscles of his back, the power you knew he had behind those thick hands and even thicker thighs.

So sturdy and agile, age and old injuries just a reminder that every move was calculated for a reason. 

“That’s so cool. I bet it’s a good way to let off some steam too,” you rest your chin on the plush pillows of the sofa. Something had begun to shift, a slowly simmering tension working its way between your bodies. 

“Oh I can think of other things that would do that better.” 

The look on his face sends a wave of heat through you, straight to your core. 

“Like putting me over your knee?” 

It slipped from your lips on a whim but he was ready for it and you realized he’d been enticing you this whole time. 

“If that’s what you’d like then of course. Have you ever been spanked before, darling?”

You took a shallow breath, “Maybe once or twice it’s happened in the moment but no, not really, not properly like that. I-I think I’d actually enjoy it, um have you ever spanked anyone before?”

“I have.” 

He unclasped his hands to sit up next to you, eyes never leaving your face, keeping the intensity up, lighting every little flame inside you by the second. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were going to let every spark catch.

“Also impressive and yes, Alfred. I want your hands on me,” you sighed a soft plea. 

“C’mere then, I’ve got you.” He tugs you gently into a kiss and your fingers slide down over his wrists when they moved in to cup your face, touching you the way you wanted, so sure and thorough until he grasps for your hips, hungrier than you’d anticipated. 

He doesn’t waste time, your surprised little squeal making him smile when he moves to stand up and lifts you slightly by your hips, tipping you so you’d fall into him before he was transferring your weight so you were hauled over his shoulders, centered with such ease so that you felt balanced and stable now that you were off the ground. 

Your pulse thuds in your chest as you cling to him, those nervous giggles muffled against his back while he carries you to bed. 

—

The short walk down the hall made you feel jittery in the best way, a nervous excitement bubbling inside you knowing he was experienced with this, that he was going to show you and make it feel so good. You were sure he would. 

It’s almost crazy to be back in your room after all that’s happened today, how tense all the minutes bleeding into hours had been. 

But it could all be pushed to the background for a while, your attention locked into the moment as Alfred sat down on your bed, bringing you with him, your body positioned across his lap so prettily, angled so your legs were spread just slightly with the length of his left thigh keeping you supported. 

You stretched out your upper half on the duvet, propped up on your elbows to look back at him, watching as he pushed your leggings down, throwing them somewhere behind him on the bed before warm hands were caressing up your shins, over your thighs and up to the swell of your ass. 

His palm kneaded your flesh, strong fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure while you squirmed and arched back into his touch. 

“I’ll start slow, is that alright? Nothing too hard, just a few spanks to see what you can tolerate. If you don’t like it or aren’t sure, we don’t have to continue.” His hand moves in soothing circles across your skin and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m okay with that.” you try and breathe. 

“Good, I want you to say the word red if you need to stop, yellow if you need to slow down and green to continue if I stop to check in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” 

There’s a little authority in his voice and it made you squirm again, aroused by his establishment of cues and a safeword right away, how in charge he felt right now, you wanted this so badly it caught you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to be so needy for this.

Remembering that he was waiting for a reply you squeak out a yes and have to bite your lip to keep from gasping when he pulls his hand back and swats the center of your ass, more sound behind the movement than there was force but it still made you jolt forward. 

You groaned at the dull sting that prickled your skin after and glanced at Alfred who was already studying your reaction. 

“Well done, how did that feel?” he cooed praise at you and this time you don’t try to stop the sound you make in response. 

“Felt good, like what I was expecting but also different but I liked it, I want more.” your legs flexed when his hands smooth over your skin one more time, his pleased smirk at your declaration making heat pool in your lower back. 

You wished he would slip off your underwear too, so then he’d be able to see just how soaked you were from all this but you knew you had to be patient and the reward would be everything. 

You do take a second, however, to wiggle out of your sweater, starting to feel warm under the fleece lined fabric, and when you glanced back Alfred was admiring just as you thought he might be. 

No bra, nothing underneath but soft, brown skin for him to feel and just to entice him a little more, you arch your hips, making your ass jiggle, just enough to pull his steely gaze down your backside. 

The next spank is firmer than the first, more heaviness to his hand that made you whimper, your mind feeling a little hazy in the best way, the kind of haze that felt like a release, a soft bed to lay down on and surrender some control because you knew you’d be taken care of. 

Thwap! 

Whimpers and moaned out gasps mark the smack of his palm on each of your asscheeks, only a slight increase in the amount of force so that the sting just bordered on stealing your breath. 

“Christ, you’re so gorgeous like this, baby.”

His accent was deeper, that gruff voice sending tingles rippling across your spine, going down smooth like whiskey and followed by his left hand sliding over your back to rest on your right hip, making sure you couldn’t squirm away. 

He made each spank hurt in the most delightful way, alternating between right and left and then across both cheeks, spreading out the sensation, giving you a feel for which areas were more sensitive, which areas you liked being spanked at. 

“Oh, fuck!” breathy curses left your lips when he kept at it, precise hands giving you just the right amount of impact. 

“Good girl, you are doing so well. I think it’s time we take these off, hm?” he coaxes your hips up slightly so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties and you’re all but begging him to. 

Nevermind if he felt like tearing them in two, you would have let him, but he’s polite in how he strips you despite the way you feel him stirring, hardening beneath where you lay. God, you wanted him so badly. 

“Please touch me, oh please,” you don’t even realize the words are coming from you.

In barely audible little pleas muffled by where your face is flush with the bed but Alfred doesn’t miss anything and he’s grinning in your peripheral. 

“You should see how soaked you are, love. Need my fingers there, is that right?” his fingers were already inching towards where you ached the most, his right hand circling, distracting you from being able to speak while preparing you for another spank. 

“Yes! Please, Alfred, I want it so much!” your whimper leaves both of you aching. 

A tremble in your thighs had spread down to your pointed toes with the way he swirled the pads of his index and middle fingers over the slick mess between your thighs.

Slow and sweet as he slid them over your folds and circled over your clit, waiting and then rewarded with the eventual roll and arch of your hips, his free hand drawing back and then coming down on heated skin. 

You gave a strangled cry, the sound turning into a moan when his fingers continued to circle your clit, responding to the way your body reacted, only taking his eyes off you for a moment when he finally put aside his self control to watch your pretty pussy swallow his thick fingers.

He worked you open gently, remembering how you liked him to move, where those sensitive spots were even at this new angle. 

Giving you something to clench around with his next spank, coaxing you to rock into his touch like he could see you wanted to do, the gorgeous sway of your hips trying to meet the plunge of his fingers, undeniably needy for him.

You knew he could hear it in the way you cried out his name, how sensitive your entire body was now, the broken, pleading edge to the way you praise him in return, telling him how good it felt, how much you’d been needing this. 

The pleasure built higher as did Alfred’s movements, a hiss at the edge of your words at each searing swat of his hands that mixed with the scissoring of his fingers, both working in careful, measured tandem. 

“That’s my girl, come on, that’s it!” he grits out when you push up onto your elbows again and grind your hips back. 

The passion and possession in the way he called you his merged with the curving of his fingers and you both know you’re there, tender walls fluttering as you come, thighs aching, your whole body tingling, trembling with the steady roll of his wrist keeping the pleasure drawn out, filling your entire body. 

You’re not embarrassed by the tears that prick your eyes or the sob in your throat that follow when he finally flips you over, laying you back because you’d begged for him to and who was he to refuse you, an angel.

If you wanted his face between your thighs, eating your dripping pussy until you were too sensitive to take it, that’s exactly what he’d give you and it’s why you weren’t shy, not in this moment, not when you knew he wanted it just as much as you. 

Soft hands disturb the careful style of Alfred’s hair, unable to help it when his tongue licks you and the salt and pepper scruff scratches achingly over your inner thighs, daring you to try and close them.

Not like you’d want to, able to see how his shoulders curved and bulged with the stretch of his shirt as he kept your legs parted with his body. 

This was everything you had wanted, moaning at the way he consumed you so lovingly, a weight in his touch and in his encouraging, filthy words that told you he wasn’t holding back now, you were his girl, he could show you the more true depth of his desire now.

And you were safe to do the same, you craved it actually, always wanting this and you reason you have this entire time, craving this level of care and need, even obsession with each other, so much trust and feelings at the center of it. 

“So good, baby. Just like that, please…” you barely get the words out, lungs losing air from the focus he gave to your words even before you finished speaking. 

His hands didn’t stay idle, the grip of his hands over your body like he wanted to memorize the feel of you, the way you dipped and curved and stretched and it drove you wild, the wet suction of his mouth the only thing your mind could focus on. 

It’s a wonder you can even move when he finally withdraws his mouth from your puffy lips, turning his still hungry and devoted gaze towards your chest, those stiff peaks he’d been neglecting through all this, but no longer. 

You squirmed into the flick of his tongue, the way he kissed your skin and praised and nipped and got his lips on every inch of skin that he could while you just laid back and relaxed, recovered from the orgasm still twitching in the muscles of your arms, your thighs, your tummy. 

“Just look at you. Fuck, I am so lucky,” he rumbles against your collar and you wrap your arms around him, curled against him.

“I feel exactly the same way.”

His soft huff of breath against your neck tickled and you snake your legs around him, hoping to keep him close, just wanting to be in his arms and under his body for as long as you could. 

You’d take forever, and that was all you needed to know.

The Shoreline Lofts

November 27 

12:00 a.m.

The Batman was watching. Unblinking and focused, planted in place but ready for anything that might come. Folding himself into the inky cloak of the midnight hour. 

The Iceberg Lounge was directly beneath the loft space but that wasn’t why Bruce had come tonight.

No, he was far more interested in what Penguin got up to in private, without guests and dancers and clients around, what secrets or clues might be yielded if he just sat and watched, surveilled for a while. 

He was curious why the man you had recognized from the news was connected to Scarecrow and he didn’t believe for a moment that Oz wasn’t keeping tabs on what his men were doing, he had to have known the attack was going to happen. 

Motives were unclear but pieces of this horrid puzzle were starting to come together so Bruce  wouldn’t rest until he could see the grand picture for what it was. 

He tipped the binoculars back up to the blackened edges of his cowl, zeroing in again on where Oz was playing pool, unaware a shadow sat spying through the skylight. 

The building’s layout was already scoped out, every entry point found, tested, and memorized. Now Bruce would wait and watch until Penguin left the loft to slip in and see what he could find. 

Gordon needed intel, something to go on after grasping for dead end’s, there was no time to sit on things, not after what he’d seen today. 

Not after you and Alfred were almost hurt and especially not after he’d seen what the toxin did to people, recognizing the look of anguish in their eyes like his own reflection.

A waking nightmare was no stranger to Bruce so he’d make sure of this, Scarecrow would be made to answer.

A/N: It’s been so long and I have missed writing for Alfred and I’m really surprised and proud of what I wrote here! Went through a lot of emotions trying to get this on the page and there was a lot of self doubt and anxiety and unfairly beating myself up about things not coming together but here we are and I just really love that I pushed through and had fun putting this all together in the end 💕 We stan protective Alfred! Like if that’s not a whole husband right there!

Thanks for giving this a read!

no pressure tags! 💌 @flamingdisputes @saradika @ozarkthedog @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @communism-bitches @xnodamsel @glitterjuju @mariahthelioness29 @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @unrefinedmusings @xoxovivafics @peachyteabuck

[uuuhhhmmmmmmmmidk]

Volviendo a ver la pelicula de El Planeta de los Simios: Revolucion, me di cuenta en esta escena al final de la pelicula, que Cesar es igual de alto que Will (en este caso el actor James Franco el cual mide 1.80 cm segun google). Tal vez este unos centimetros mas abajo de Will, imagino 1.78 cm o 1.77 cm.

Lo digo por que siempre crei que Cesar era muchisimo mas bajito llegando tal vez al pecho de un hombre adulto jaja. Pero ahora veo que no y que realmente es alto.

O tal vez este equivocada o algo asi ajsjjsjs pero me gusta pensar que Cesar realmente es alto cuando esta parado en sus dos patas traseras. (🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦)

Por cierto, hize esto comparando la altura de Cesar con alguien que mideo 1.60, asi queeeee 🫦🫦🫦

Agrege otro pero con la altura de Andy Serkis, en caso de que Cesar mida eso ajajajsjaj

[tarrensbookmarks]

Star Wars

➼ Kino Loy ‣I Want You to Show Me Weak by tarabyte3 Kino Loy x F!Reader

➼ Din Djarin/The Mandalorian ‣Still of Your Hand by moonlight-prose Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Sleepy Sex by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Home Is Wherever I'm With You by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader

➼ Boba Fett ‣Dance of the Desert Snake by seriowan Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours by saradika Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Ex Libris by daimyosprincess Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

➼ Paz Vizla ‣Bold by flightlessangelwings Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

➼ Cad Bane ‣Expensive Tastes by eloquentmoon Cad Bane x Rich!F!Reader

➼ Crosshair ‣Insufferable by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader [Part One] [Part Two] ‣Show Me by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader ‣Keeping it Casual by clonecyare Crosshair x F!Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

[tarabyte3]

Remember You Are Half Water

Pairing: Kino Loy x f!Reader

(7.2 k words)

AO3 link

Summary: Drowning is easy. It's surviving that's hard. Or: After the prison break, you and Kino hide out on Narkina 5.

Warnings: (18+) Explicit, angst, enemies to lovers (kind of), they argue and not in the flirty way, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, grim realism, survival situation, descriptions of drowning, descriptions of resuscitation, cpr, thoughts of death, thoughts of dying, talk of dying, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of imprisonment, themes of death, themes of drowning, description of pain, dreams, nightmares, illness, self-indulgent melancholia

A/N: I accidentally wrote this after getting a random idea in my head while working on I Want You to Show Me Weak (my brain will do anything but finish a fic 😌), so have a surprise Kino oneshot. Just please mind the tags, especially with the events currently happening in the real world. This isn't a dark fic, but the tone is quite grim. (Mostly. I am still a filthy hopeless romantic, after all.) Also, I'm well aware of what Narkina 5 is supposed to look like, however I simply Do Not care 😌

Fic title is from The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. Collage quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Ocean.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

- e.e. cummings, maggie and milly and molly and may

Your lungs burn.

There's a weight across your shoulders, pulling you down and under the waves. Your arms are spent and heavy with exhaustion. You have no idea how long you’ve been swimming—dragging something through the water, but your muscles are on fire. Your lungs are on fire. It would be so easy to just give up.

To just let go.

Because you're so tired. You’ve heard drowning isn't so bad. Like going to sleep, they say. You can do that. That's nothing compared to this.

You catch sight of a face at your side, barely breaching the surface. His face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slack. Like he's sleeping.

You go back to swimming.

“Breathe, goddamn you!” You sob. Even though you're numb from the cold, your hand is trembling as you pound against his back with your fist. Between the shoulder blades, behind his lungs. Every hit makes a wet slap. His white uniform is soaked through and nearly translucent. It clings to him. The water, greedy, still won't let him go. “Don't you fucking do this, you prick! Wake up!”

He doesn't flinch under your assault. Not even when you roll him back over onto the rocky sand and press a rhythm into his ribs.

This is worse, you think, because now you can see his face and feel the ghost of his angry stare, even through his closed eyelids. His skin is grey and clammy, his lips nearly blue, and his beard and hair are slick and dark with water. His expression is relaxed. Peaceful. Not asleep. He's never looked like that before. This isn't how he's supposed to look.

The only movement beneath your hands is the jolt of his body from the compressions.

You let out a scream of frustration.

The waves lap at your face, forcing salt up your nose on an inhale. You splutter, losing your grip on that arm slung around your shoulders, and for a moment it slips. You kick frantically at the water as you scramble for him.

“No—” Your voice gets choked off by the whitecap of another wave.

You grab at his face, drive it back above the surface, even as you plunge below it. Whatever else you were going to shout is lost in a cloud of bubbles. You're the only thing keeping him from sinking to the bottom now. Just you, clinging to the hope of life.

You can't think about that dead weight.

You fight back to the surface with a cough, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. You have to keep moving. You have to keep—

You’re being shaken awake. The hand on your shoulder is warm, but the grip is almost harsh—unforgiving as the fingers dig into your flesh.

You blink your eyes open to find Kino staring down at you with a frown. The light from the small fire throws shadows across his face and deepens the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth and along his forehead, making him look even more severe than he usually does.

“You were dreaming again,” he grumbles. Then he releases your shoulder without warning, nearly shoving away from you in the process, and he shuffles back across to his side of the small cave to resume lying down.

Now that you're conscious, all of your injuries and pains from the past few days come rushing back to fill your awareness. You let out a groan as you push yourself up off the cold stone floor. Not that sitting is any better—there’s a rock digging into your ass to prove your point, and you send it skittering. It doesn't make a difference. With a sigh, you rub the heels of your hands into your heavy eyelids in an attempt to clear the blurriness from your vision.

“Sorry,” you try, your voice hoarse with sleep. You quickly clear your throat and try again. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

He only grunts in response.

The sky at the mouth of the cave is a slate grey. It’s been raining the last few days—as if the water is trying to follow you ashore—so you aren't sure if the muted light is the growing dawn or due to the thick storm clouds that leave the landscape darkened, no matter where the sun is overhead. It's made everything damp and chilly, and you can feel it in every joint and bone. Between that, your desperate and adrenaline fueled escape from the prison, nearly drowning, and laying on the hard, rocky ground, your entire body aches.

You're both still wearing your white and orange uniforms, though they're worn and filthy now. More brown than white. The fabric is also next to useless outside of a temperature controlled environment, but you have nothing else to keep you warm and nothing at all for your feet. You’d gotten lucky that there had been driftwood piled inside the seaside cave, brought in by the tide and left safe from the rain. Kino had found several more pieces along the beach on that first day and dragged them into the shelter to dry out. Neither of you dared to venture any further afterwards, either from fear or exhaustion.

The last of the wood is burning between you, and, when it’s gone, there won't be anything left to keep the chill at bay. You know you’ll have to recommend sharing body heat at some point soon, but you're reluctant to do so because you also know it won't go over well. You're certain it's the last thing he wants, even if the alternative is stubbornly dying from exposure.

“Think they’ve moved on yet?” You ask, just to have something to distract you from your thoughts.

“Doubt it,” he replies in that gruff voice.

“Yeah,” you sigh. You slump forward and let your forearms rest on your knees, suddenly weary. “But we're going to have to leave eventually. We need food and real shelter.”

“You’re too weak to walk it,” he says to the cave wall.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

Kino's head whips around, and he meets your eyes with a glare. “No, you're not.” You let out a noise of disgust before you can reconsider, and his jaw clenches in response. “You nearly died.”

“Don’t start this again.” You mean it as a plea, but it comes out merely resigned in your exhaustion. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had this argument since you first woke up to him coughing and shouting on the beach. You don't want to have it again.

“Like you’d listen anyway,” he says. And then he scowls, like you're the problem.

Alright, maybe you'll have it one more time.

“Gods, that bit of power really did go straight to your thick skull didn't it?” You laugh in disbelief. “Why can't you just accept that it was my choice? Mine!”

“I’m well aware of your poor decision making!” He shoots back. Then he sits up to face you, and now it's a proper fight, you think. “I’ve already told you, no one was supposed to die because of me!”

“And I already told you to get over yourself!” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I look fucking dead to you? Hmm?”

“Don't act like it wasn't a close call!”

“I never said it wasn't.” You pinch at the bridge of your nose in an attempt to keep your frustration at bay. Screaming won't make him listen to reason, no matter how good it will feel. “What would you have had me do, Kino? Just let you drown?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation.

“Well, I didn't.” Your arm flops to your side, too heavy to hold up now. “So maybe you should just consider being fucking grateful instead.”

“I didn't ask for this!” He snaps. It's followed by an immediate look of regret.

Oh. That's new. You take a moment to study his face—the way he can suddenly no longer meet your eyes, like he's ashamed of all things.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You ignore his sardonic, “You.”

Because you don't understand him. Is he really this upset or his pride so wounded over the fact that he needed to be saved? Is he truly this angry just because someone—or more specifically you—saw him when he was weak after being in control for so long? Those are convenient reasons. They're probably even contributing to his horrid mood, but they don't feel as if they’re the reason. It's almost as if—

“You wanted to die.” The shocked realization tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

There's a long, deafening beat of silence.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he says quietly as he gathers those strong arms around himself and crosses them like a shield.

Part of your mind is screaming at you to just drop it. You’ve entered new territory. You've never made him defensive like this before, and you don't know how he'll react. But based on all of your previous interactions with him, you know it won't be pleasant. Which is an understatement. The stubborn part of you, however, hopes that this means you're actually making progress. And if you’ve come this far…

“Is that why you won't even try to leave this shit hole again?” You press. “Is that why you're trading one prison for another?”

“That has nothing to do with this,” he says as he narrows his eyes at you, and you're almost disappointed to hear some of his anger returning.

“Yeah right,” you scoff.

“Listen, neither of us is in any condition to evade the searches. All we’re going to accomplish is getting caught.” It sounds almost reasonable, but you know better. You know it for what it really is: a deflection. You did hit a nerve.

“That's only going to get worse,” you argue back. “The lack of food is going to weaken us further, assuming we don't freeze to death first.”

“And it will still be easier if we're not being hunted. We have to be patient,” he says as his frown deepens, frustration beginning to take root once again. “Let them think we’re dead or gone.”

“And how long will that take? Days? Weeks?”

“A hell of a lot longer than three days!”

“Fine. Then we should at least go out and do some scouting so we have an idea of which way to go when the time comes,” you offer instead. “We might even find supplies.”

“It's too risky,” he says dismissively as he waves you off. You bristle against the gesture. “We’re safe here. The cave entrance is hard to find, but if we go in and out too often, we’ll draw attention to ourselves.”

“There's always going to be risk, Kino, whether we leave tonight or a week from now. If we wait, it could be too late,” you point out. “For all we know, the Empire is sending a blockade to keep us all trapped here! Then what?”

“They aren't going to send a blockade for a prison break,” he scoffs.

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“How can you?”

“Why is it so hard for you to trust me?” You hate the hint of misery that seeps into your voice and betrays how much that idea pains you.

“Why should I? If I recall correctly, your judgment has nearly gotten you killed once already,” he says in a mocking tone.

You glare at him. “My judgment saved both our lives.”

He glares right back. “I'm starting to think that was sheer dumb luck.”

Oh, how fucking dare he. After everything you went through—

“I didn't realize you were such a coward,” you say coldly, desperate to hurt him as much as he's hurt you.

The tendons in his neck go taut with rage. “Fuck you,” he spits, but he no more than gets the words out when he's racked with a violent coughing fit. The force of it makes him double over onto the cave floor, and his body heaves with each one.

You wince at the sight, feeling ashamed of your comment now. You didn't want this.

The coughing spells are a parting gift from Narkina 5—the water still won't let him go. He's had a few of them since you got him to shore and forced the ocean from his lungs, and each one sounds a little bit worse than the one before. You're no healer, but that's obviously not a good sign. He needs medicine. You also haven't broached the subject with him because you know it will just start a fight.

As if everything you say doesn't start a fight.

You lean back to wait it out, letting your head thunk tiredly against the cave wall. There's nothing you can do to help him and trying will only make it worse—you learned that the hard way. Plus, it doesn't seem fair to argue with him while he's like this, even if you're only doing it to get through to him for his own good, the stubborn jerk.

It takes several minutes before he finally stops coughing long enough to get his breathing under control. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rights himself with as much dignity as he can muster, and gives you a cold, hard stare. “Go, then, if you're in such a hurry to end up back in a cell,” he grits out, his voice a strained, wet gravel.

“Fine,” you huff, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here and waste away if you want. See if I care. I can find a way off this slag heap by myself.”

You almost make it past the mouth of the cave.

The moment your foot touches the rain slicked rock, the combination of fatigue and an unsteady gait causes you to slip. You hit the ground with a grunt, landing hard on your hip. Sharp, hot pain shoots through the joint, curling up your spine and down your leg. The shock of it takes your breath away, and your eyes sting with fresh tears.

Oh, brilliant, you think caustically. Of all the times to fall on your ass.

Behind you, Kino swears. A second later, you hear the slap of his bare feet on rock as he stomps towards you.

“Broken?” He doesn't quite snap the question at you, but it's a near thing.

“No,” you choke out.

“You have a fucking death wish,” he growls before he hauls you to a sitting position.

Despite the pain, that statement makes you laugh, though it's a bitter, near hysterical sound. You tilt your head back to grin up at him. “Guess we make quite the pair, huh?”

He doesn't respond.

He just shoves his hands under your armpits in an attempt to get a grip on you with those thick fingers. Then your laughter quickly dissolves into a wounded hiss as he drags you back into the cave with no care for your new injury. You're not sure why you suddenly expected him to start coddling you. He never did before.

He dumps you back into the spot you’ve been occupying, glad to be rid of you, and you catch yourself with your hands before you land in a heap.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

After that, neither of you speaks for a while, content to sit and lick your wounds in what passes for peace now. Eventually, the pain in your hip lessens to a dull throb and the fire is reduced to embers, the long hours sucking the heat out of both.

Outside, the sky has gotten a bit lighter, but is still that dreary mask of grey that makes time feel nebulous. Unknowable. The rain, at least, had turned into a mist about an hour ago. Without the sound of the drops echoing throughout the cave, the silence is unforgiving. Every shuffle along the rock, every sniffle or sigh, every brush of clothes is harsh between you.

“Why are you so mad at me?” You finally ask, desperate for any noise that isn't him heavily exhaling a whistle through his nose.

“I already told you,” he replies, emotionless.

“I’m not talking about that,” you sigh. “You hated me the moment I stepped onto the floor.”

In the low light, there's a brief look of shock on his profile before his scowl returns in full force. “I didn't hate you.”

“Yes you did. You could barely look at me. And you yelled at me all the time.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you continue on so he can't interrupt you. “Look, I understand, in a way. I was slower than nearly all of the men, and you were pissed about being stuck with me. But it's not like I did it on purpose.”

“It wasn't that.” There's a renewed touch of exasperation in his voice. You're intimately familiar with that tone. You’ve heard the way he normally sounds when speaking to other people—got to see what it was like without ever experiencing it yourself—but you’ve never spoken to him without receiving either his impatience or his distaste. You prepare yourself for another fight.

“Then why? Because I was a distraction?” Your bitterness bleeds from you, an anguish built from months of labor and fear. And loneliness, you think. Because, even though you’d been constantly surrounded by people, you’d never felt so completely and utterly alone.

“It's nothing.” He rolls onto his side to face the cave wall, intent on ignoring you.

“It clearly wasn't nothing,” you respond dryly.

“Just drop it,” he says over his shoulder.

“No.” You cross your arms. You're done listening to him just because he tells you to. You don't have to now. You're not in there anymore. “After everything, I think I deserve to know what I did to have you treat me that way.”

“And I don't want to fucking talk about it,” he growls.

“Well, too damn bad! Because there's nothing else to talk about, and I want to know why you hated me when all I wanted was—” You cut yourself off with a hitched breath before you accidentally finish that sentence.

Fighting is one thing. That's easy. Safe. But this is something big and messy that you're still trying to come to terms with, made all the more complicated by your current situation, which was already plenty complicated before. This will only make things worse. You know it will. And despite all the hurtful things you’ve said to each other, you wouldn't be able to stomach his rejection. His pity. His disgust—couldn’t handle being forced to endure it while stuck in this damned cave and made to wallow in the forced intimacy of the space that's anything but. No, this is the one truth you could never take back.

To your embarrassment, your voice is rough and raw with emotion when you speak again. “When all I wanted was to be treated like a person.”

“If that's what you wanted, you were in the wrong place,” he says coldly to the cave wall. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“No!” You shout. You no longer care if you’re being petulant because you are angry about it. You’ve been holding onto the feeling for months, but you're tired now. You don't want to carry it around anymore. “I won't let you bully me into silence. I want the truth.”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses as he flings himself upright to glare at you. Every bit of him is rigid with tension. Dangerous. At least he's looking at you again.

“Then answer me!” You stubbornly glare back at him. “You owe me that much.”

“Fine! I was afraid, alright?” He finally snarls, reminding you of a cornered animal, spitting as it lashes out. “Is that what you want to hear? That you were right? That I'm a coward?”

“What?” All of your anger leaves you in a sudden rush. The hiding, the running, the water—that fear you can understand. But this? You stare at him in genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Because I was scared shitless about what could happen to you! That place was cruel to the men it was designed for. Whatever it had in store for you was going to be much worse. I thought…” He runs a hand down his face and over the scruff of his beard, now grown out beyond a neat trim. The action wipes his own anger away, and underneath it is something human: exhaustion and vulnerability. “I thought, if I kept you at a distance, it would hurt less when it finally broke you, but you made it so damn hard.”

“Oh,” you breathe out in shock, as though you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you. You have, in a way, because, gods, what can you possibly say to that? It's the last thing you were expecting—realistically, you thought he was worried your lack of strength or speed would get someone else killed. This, however…you couldn't have even imagined this. The implication of it… “Kino—”

“Don't. Okay?” He cuts you off. And then he turns away to shut you out as well. “Just…fucking don't.”

So instead you sit there in the uneasy quiet of the cave, feeling adrift. Helpless. Like you're right back in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves, with nothing to hold onto to keep from sinking; there’s only water in your fumbling grasp. At least then you'd known which way you were supposed to go, it was the getting there that was the problem. Now you don't even have that. You wonder if you’d have the energy to even try if you did.

A part of you wants nothing more than to reexamine every interaction, every look, and every word he’s ever spoken to you and see what you might uncover that you'd missed, but you can't do that with him right there. His presence just muddles everything up until you can't help but mix reality and memory, past and present, assumption and realization. You're nearly dizzy with it.

Plus, knowing that things weren't so black and white between you doesn't change what happened or how you feel. You’ve been hurting and angry for a while—especially at him, and most of which he still deserves for how he treated you. That something more existed lessens the intensity of those feelings, but it doesn't erase them completely. Not yet. Reconciling what you know and what you thought you knew will only come with time.

To the rest of you, however, that reconciliation doesn't seem as important as your fear at almost losing him or the realization that there is something more than just hatred on his end. Even if that thing is nothing more than kindness and compassion, it's something. And you could have died not knowing that. Or worse, you could have lived without knowing instead.

Gods, complicated is an understatement. If only you could have wanted something easy for once. You wonder if he thought the same thing as he watched you from across the work floor. And it feels odd to think that maybe it's not such an unrealistic hope anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, breaking the silence between you at last.

He laughs, and it manages to sound condescending. The familiarity of it is grounding. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I guess…” What are you apologizing for? For misunderstanding him? For making his life harder, even if it wasn't your fault? For not agreeing with him? For being unable to shoulder his anger? For continuing to push and push and push. Maybe all of it, you realize. For your part in the making of this. “I guess for saving you when you didn't want me to,” you answer with a shrug instead.

At first, you think he isn't going to respond to that, and you can no longer find it in yourself to blame him. But then, with a voice that’s softer than you’ve ever heard from him—weren’t even sure he was capable of it—he says, “It's not that I didn't want to be saved.”

“Then why? Help me to understand, Kino,” you plead, praying that he won't clam up or lash out again. Not when you've come so far. “Please.”

He gives you a heavy, resigned look before settling his attention on the cave entrance where his gaze becomes unseeing. Though there are only a few feet between you, he suddenly seems miles away.

“When we were planning all of this, I knew what was waiting for us on the outside. I mean, they built the fucking thing in the middle of an ocean and I can't swim. How ironic is that? All that work, and I was gonna make it to the door just to drown.” Then, quietly, “I never gave a thought to what I would do if I didn't. Now I've got no clue what comes next.”

“Neither do I,” you say in disbelief.

He lets out a dark laugh. “Sure don't act like it,” he mutters.

“I’m just better at hiding it.” You give him a small smile that he cannot see.

“Maybe I should be, too,” he muses to himself. “It’d be a hell of a lot better than feeling so lost.”

“Hiding it doesn't make that go away,” you say sadly. You know that all too well.

His only reply is a non-committal hum, and it suddenly occurs to you that he has no clue what you actually went through. How could he? He lept into the water and woke up on shore with nothing but darkness in between. All he knows is that you saved him. Without the rest, he thinks he's struggling alone.

“I almost gave up, you know,” you admit quietly.

That gets his attention again. He turns to look at you, and his eyes are wide with fear and concern. “What?” He gasps.

“I could barely see the shore when the adrenaline wore off. When faced with that distance, all that water, and no strength left?” You shrug in an attempt to seem unbothered, even as the memory fills you with dread. “For one horrible moment, I suppose drowning just seemed easier.” Like going to sleep, you don't say. “But I couldn't. I looked at you, and I couldn't. Not without trying first. And before you say anything, leaving you behind was never an option. Not for me. If this place was going to win, it was going to have to take us both.”

“I never wanted that,” he says helplessly. “When I came to and saw you laying there, I thought you were dead.” His voice breaks and he takes in a deep, shaky breath, but it does little to steady him. “I knew then what you did for me, and I thought it killed you. That after everything, it was me. I broke you, and it wasn't worth it. Not me.”

“You didn't,” you insist, desperate to make him listen. You recognize that despair because it's the same one that haunts your dreams and doesn't let go when you're awake. It's the same fear that grips your chest in icy fingers whenever you catch his sleeping face or you're forced to sit by and listen to him cough—the water still won't let him go. You understand now that he needs the reassurance that it's over just as much as you do. So you push yourself to your knees and dare to move closer, despite the protest of your aching body. “I’m right here. See? I was just tired afterwards, that's all. Just tired. I’m right here.”

Without warning, he reaches for you, and, even though he's never harmed you, you flinch thinking maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. Only, he grabs the front of your uniform and pulls you to him, just as unkindly as he dragged you across the cave. And then you think he's going to scream again, but when he opens his mouth, he leans in and crushes your lips together instead.

You freeze against him.

Because Kino Loy is kissing you, and that can't be right. He hates you. His mouth can only scowl and scream and cough and—there’s a little grunt from the back of his throat as he adjusts the angle of your lips, and, oh, this is real. Without another thought, you're kissing him back.

At first, there's only tentative relief—at the reassurance, the sensation, at finally getting something you want—but heat starts to build in the breath-humid space between your bodies the longer you kiss and kiss. Something born of more than lust or desire. And though they flicker in your belly as well, it's a bone deep desperation to feel alive that drives you forward and aches to be quelled.

When you break apart to catch your breath, he rests his forehead against yours. Close enough for your noses to brush together and to feel each hard exhale—that blessed, life sustaining air—across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sob. His voice is low and thick with grief against your mouth. The sound and shape of it is so different from his anger—in the low light, only a ghost of that harshness is left, clinging to the shadowy lines of his face. You don't have to ask what he's apologizing for.

“Show me,” you whisper back. You let your lips brush over his again in invitation. He responds by delving into the wet heat of your mouth and wrapping you in his arms with a moan.

So you give yourself over to the exploration of his tongue against yours and his large, callus roughened hands as they engulf the sides of your face, caught in the whirlwind of him. It leaves you breathless faster than you like, and when you break for air again, you don't want to give him a moment to change his mind or to pull away completely. So your mouth wanders to his cheeks, the scruff on his jaw, his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat above the collar of his uniform—seeking out every bit of him that you can reach as he pants and swallows beneath your lips.

He smells like sweat and smoke and saltwater, and his skin is sharp and briny on your tongue as you lap at a spot on his neck. He tastes like drowning, and for a moment you're lost in the memory of him in the water, his weight pulling you beneath the waves. His lifeless face staring up at you from the shore. But then he sucks in a sharp breath, jolting you back to the present, and his lips are on yours again. Warm. Alive. Not the cold flesh you forced air through. Not the same shared breath.

“Wanna see you,” you gasp into his mouth as you lift at the hem of his shirt.

Without a word, he moves to obey.

You both peel away your filthy uniforms with trembling hands, revealing bodies that are just as dirty and unwashed to the chilled air, but beneath all of that is color. His flush of arousal. Bruises that are starting to fade, a gruesome rainbow of healing. The shadows playing in the shifting of muscle as he reaches for you to pull you back into the warmth of his arms. Alive.

He's the first soft thing you’ve touched after days of nothing but rock. And before that, months of only tools and labor and struggle. You bask in the sensation: The greying hair on his chest, the roundness of his belly and hips, salt dried skin, his palm on your cheek. The other on your thigh. He’s softer than you remember from when you were hauling him through the waves—

You wrap your hand around his cock, and his heartbeat throbs in your fist. Alive.

He lets out a groan when you stroke him, something deep and guttural that rumbles through the cave like thunder. The sound sends blood and heat rushing to your core, where it pools between your thighs and leaves you aching and empty. You tease the silken foreskin over his length and work your thumb along the underside of the swollen head just to hear more of it.

With a growl, he falls upon you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongues and hunger. His hand cups the swell of your breast while his thumb circles your nipple. You cry out and arch into the roughness of his hand. Then you're both eagerly groping and learning all the ways you can draw more noises from each other until you're left squirming against the insistent throbbing between your legs.

“I want you inside of me,” you murmur into his mouth.

He clenches his eyes shut as his breath hitches, and you're thrilled you can get that reaction out of him. But then he opens his eyes again and, in a shaky voice, asks, “You're sure?”

“Yes!” You growl, impatient. “Fuck me, Kino.”

He lets out a groan. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last very long.”

“Don't care as long as your cock is inside me first.”

“Fuck!” He hisses. His hips involuntarily jerk forward at the thought, and said cock grinds into the bend of your groin. “Then I'll give you what you want.”

After that reaction, you think he's going to throw you down and do just that. Instead, his touch gentles, his palm cradling the base of your skull as he lays you out along the rock. The movement doesn't make you feel delicate or like something that's injured and cowering in a cave, but rather like something to be revered.

This is his apology.

A caress along your inner knee has your legs falling open, leaving you exposed before him. Before you can be self-conscious about it, he gives your arousal a heated look that drives the thought from your mind. Then he traces a fingertip up the tender skin of your thigh, and fire licks from your thigh to your belly.

For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to have this on the other side of the galaxy. Not in a cave, but in a bed, warm and clean with a full stomach. Maybe it would be sweet like this between you the whole time rather than something that's taking an effort just to maintain. Because you know this is only a moment—a reprieve. It can't last, not when that cold desperation and panic are rebuilding within your gut.

It's a lovely thought. But by the time he kneels between your thighs, you need again. You pull him down and he goes willingly, falling to brace his hands on the stony ground on either side of your shoulders. Then you hold your breath as he closes the distance, slowly, until the length of his cock is resting and throbbing, flush against your sex.

Your hips grind up against him, trapping him between your heat and his belly so that when he thrusts back, seeking more, he drags himself along your wet folds; the sensitive head of his cock rubs against your clit. Both of you moan, wounded and strangled sounds. So he does it again. And again. Over and over until you're both gasping and shuddering at the slick friction.

All the while he stares down at you, studying you. Taking in the way your face contorts and breaks with pleasure. His eyes are sea blue, you realize—the water, greedy—so wild and deep and pulling you in. It sets your pulse racing and makes your palms sweat against his shoulders. You turn away from the intensity in that gaze.

“No.” To your surprise, he takes your chin between his finger and thumb, not gentle but steady, and he forces you to look anyway. To face him. “Let me see you.”

He holds you there with the weight of his body as he shifts to nudge at your opening. It's so close to what you need. Your legs wrap around his waist in silent encouragement. Then, once he's lined up, he sinks forward with a groan and stretches you open on his cock until you're aching and full.

His mouth goes slack. Those eyes become heavy and lidded. Not closed—alive. Which makes all the difference to your wounded mind. So you drink in the sight of him like this, buried in the tight embrace of your cunt. A ruinous look.

You're drowning again.

It scares you, just how much you want to give yourself over and let go. How easy it would be to become lost. To believe that this is something more than desperation. But then his eyes refocus and whatever tenderness had gripped him is absent from that gaze. In its place is hunger. Need. Urgency.

“Gods, you're so tight,” he grinds out from behind clenched teeth as he gives a shallow thrust into you. The sound goes straight to your core, soaking him further. “Feels so good.”

Then he finally—finally—fucks you. Hard and fast.

The ground is cold and unrelenting beneath your spine where you're folded and crushed against it. Above you, he's blanketing you in heat and the delicious slide of flesh along your nerves. A lovely contrast already, but then his hand finds your hip, his fingers digging into your fresh bruise, and you gasp from the pain—it hurts, but if it hurts that means you're alive. He doesn't stop at the sound. Instead, there's understanding in those eyes as he pulls you in to meet each plunge of his cock, and, oh, that's even better.

You spare a thought for his knees right before he shifts. Then he's dragging against that spot inside of you, and your mind goes blissfully empty with pleasure. Your head falls back, weightless with it. At that opening, he buries his face in your neck, muffling every grunt into your skin. He presses the vibrations of them into your flesh and bones alongside his exhales, the scrape of his beard, the unconscious skim and purse of his lips. You shiver.

You won't come from this alone, but you don't care. This is enough. You just need to feel something—need the proof that he's alive. That you're alive. That this IS real and not some drawn out hallucination your dying brain came up with between the span of one heartbeat and your last.

But it has to be real. Even in your darkest moments, alone in your cell, you never allowed yourself to want this—the thing you could not have. The galaxy had been cruel enough on its own without any assistance from you. So there were no images or dreams in your mind to conjure this from. Which means these messy kisses, the wet noise of your joining, your sweat slicked skin, his hair, salt-stiffened and curled between your fingers, must be real. It also means every moment of this is new and unburdened by expectation or comparison.

It's everything else that haunts you.

All too soon, and just as promised, his body grows tense, and he starts to tremble above you. Between your exhaustion and his unrelenting pace, this was never intended to last. And he's so close, but when he meets your eyes, you see hesitation. Uncertainty. When he moves to pull away, you realize he means to finish by stroking and spilling himself across your belly instead. But that isn't what you need.

“No! Don’t,” you beg. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you grasp at his neck and shoulders, unwilling to let him go with a strength that surprises you both. Then you roll your hips and grind yourself onto his cock, dragging a hiss out of him. “I want to feel you.”

He groans as he yields to your plea, too near that edge to argue, so he falls right back into a punishing rhythm. Yet underneath the hunger and determination, there's anguish now, too. As if by doing this, he remains afraid he'll break you somehow. Still, he clings to your hips as every thrust turns short and sharp with purpose until, at last, he buries himself fully and chases that relief in the depths of your cunt.

When he comes, the only sound he makes is a harsh sob. And then his cock is pulsing inside of you, filling you with warmth. Life.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He collapses heavily at your side with a few wet coughs, spent and too exhausted to hold himself up any longer. You lay there for a moment, listening to his ragged breathing, unsure of what comes next. You're afraid he’ll push you away once his mind clears. That he’ll go back to hating you from across the cave, now muggy with the scent of sex, as his come leaks down your thighs.

He doesn't.

Instead, he holds his arms open in silent invitation and you realize he's offering you a choice: move forward with or without him. And this time, you know he accepts that it's your decision to make. But you’ve already made this choice once, when you watched him slip beneath the waves. When you dove for him in the water, hauled him back out of it, and then forced it from his lungs. It was just as easy to make then. Maybe now he’ll understand what it means.

You go to him and curl against him in acceptance. He kisses the fragile skin of your temple, and then he helps you get settled by tucking your head under his chin and rubbing warmth in a soothing pattern along your stone chilled back. Your hand finds his waist. His leg entangles with yours. Back and forth until there's nothing but drying sweat between you, as if you have always fit together in this way.

You want to savor this. More than that, you want to have this if you can. If he’ll let you. If he doesn't go back to holding you at a distance out of habit and self-preservation in a day or so, always waiting for the worst to happen and scared of the hurt that might follow. As if anything could be worse than losing him now. Then he really would be the thing that broke you. A self fulfilling prophecy. You almost want to laugh at the irony.

All at once, the silence feels heavier than you can bear.

“Never again tell me you aren't worth it,” you whisper fiercely to the cave. “You are to me.”

He doesn't respond, but the hand splayed over your ribs twitches before clutching you tighter.

“We’ll try in the morning,” he says quietly instead. Under your ear, the compromise rumbles loudly throughout his chest. Beneath that, his steady heartbeat.

His statement doesn't fill you with anything as naive as hope. The Empire is still looking for you, and they aren't ever going to stop now. You’ve only traded imprisonment for the illusion of freedom. The thought claws at you, threatens to pull you under. But there's an arm around your shoulders that squeezes as it holds you close, and you remember that you can't let go. You can't lose him. You won't. You have to keep moving.

“In the morning,” you agree.

"Hey,” he said, half-asleep, “what were you before me?” “I think I was drowning.” A pause. “And what are you now?” he whispered, sinking. I thought for a second. “Water."

- Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

A/N: The song for this fic is Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish btw.

[tarrenterror25]

POV: You get a boo basket from Alfred Pennyworth

[citrus-moonlight]

Hello friends and welcome! I wanted to finally put all my fics in one place since I now have over 50K published (!!!), and also because I started out posting to one blog and then moved here to use as a separate writing/personal space.

At this point it's all Ulysses Klaue all the time, baby, but I do have a couple of WIPs started for Alfred Pennyworth (and perhaps a loose outline or two for a couple of other blorbos). I hope to get to them soon, but for now my dirty napkin of a man has me in a chokehold, so here we are!

All works have an Explicit rating | 18+ only | Warnings tagged in each work/series as well as individual chapters.

And remember: Writers are little goblins for feedback, you have no idea how much we appreciate every single comment and reblog!

Series

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for this gorgeous header!! 💕 Please check out her graphics blog @saradika-graphics!

Bringin' Home the Rain

"Let It Wash Us Both Away" (Part One) 25.4K | Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader | Complete!

You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

[AO3 Link]

"Salvation is a Deep Dark Well" (Part Two) 30.6K (ongoing) | Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader | Active WIP! - Chapter 3

After the realization that you don't want your night with Klaue to be one-time thing - and as you start to understand that he doesn't either - that persistent hum of desire to seek out risk starts to feel different; enticingly unfamiliar and drawing you in a way that for the first time makes you long to relinquish control to something, or someone, outside of yourself.

[AO3 Link]

"Find Me in the Air" (Part 3) Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader | Future WIP!

Planned final part!

"Woven" - A "Bringin' Home the Rain" Interlude 3.9K | Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader | A little bit of smutty holiday fluff! | Complete!

As winter begins to settle in, the darkening days are unexpectedly brightened when you end up with the chance to spend a little more time with Ulysses Klaue.

[AO3 Link]

"Away" - A "Bringin' Home the Rain" Interlude 2.0K | Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader | A short drabble based on a sweet ask by @saradika 💕| Complete!

Going on vacation with Klaue is sweet and filthy, and gives you chance to learn a little more about one another.

✨ No AO3 link yet, but I am planning on brushing this up and will post it on there, soon!

One-Shots/AUs

"Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right" 4.7K | Uysses Klaue x F! Flight Attendant Reader | Complete!

After a particularly rough flight you're suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, but you end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

[AO3 Link]

"Danger Starts the Sharp Incline" 4.5K | Demon!Klaue x F! Scientist Reader AU | Complete!

At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

[AO3 Link]

A list of other WIPs and ideas on the go! I have a couple more to add so I will update this one shortly as well!

[sisyphean-thirst]

Masterlist

Wanted to put some ideas I’m working on down before I forget. I’ll beautify this later, when I’m not working.

Ulysses Klaue

All About that Bass - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Klaue. You. Anal. That’s the fic. One shot. WIP

Du Riescht So Gut - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Before Everett Ross, there was you. Klaue decides to have fun with his favorite CIA agent, but goes about it all wrong. Short Multi-Chapter. More smutty than fluffy. WIP

I Need My Girl - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Klaue is intrigued by the pretty merc he meets at a gala. The ensuing first date is odd, extravagant, and highly enjoyable. Longer Multi-Chapter. Still workshopping. More fluff and smut. WIP

David Robey

Toxic - David Robey x F!Secretary!Reader: You’re David’s new secretary. Despite his attempts to frustrate you, your work performance exceeds his expectations. He decides to give you some more challenging work… Mostly smut, some fluff. WIP

Sergei Kravinoff

Superpredators - Sergei Kravinoff x F!Superpowered!Reader: Experimented on against your wishes, you’re just trying to find a new normal. One man’s scent unlocks a dangerous feeling within you… Sergei finds himself in the sights of another hunter; one who matches him in strength, speed, and animalistic nature. Oneshot. WIP

[amywritesthings]

ownership of mine. (2/4)

Pairing: Kino Loy x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: You have been in Narkina 5 for four months. The unit believes you are in a secret relationship with Kino Loy. (Are you?)

Warnings: Rated M / Prison, Implied Power Imbalance, Age Difference, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Sensuality, Eating, 'Oh No There's Only One Bed!' trope

A/N: I am overwhelmed by the support this little fic received this week. I'm so glad we're on the USS Loy thirst ship together.

                          PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR

( Read on AO3 )

They don’t bother you.

All morning, the thought lays at the pit of your stomach. Standing in Winshaw’s former position, you pass your finished part to Gris in the assembly line. No one looks you in the eye. No one brings their head up. It’s hard work, through and through, with productivity off the charts.

Not if they think you’re mine.

Maybe you have subconsciously played into this narrative without meaning to do so. The first (and only) person to swear to your safety was Kino — it was only natural that you gravitated towards his light, his dedication, to make sure everyone in this unit stays healthy, fed and ready.

Now you know the truth of it all: when you entered the fifth floor, Kino greeted you not only with his name, but one very specific sentiment: I own you now.

Perhaps he said the same to every inmate under his care, but this? This was different — he claimed you, marked you, the minute you set foot on the factory floor in a way that set you apart from the rest.

Last night, Kino seemed to gain little to no pleasure from admitting the rumor. The look on his face wasn’t gleeful, nor was the truth spoken as an opportunity.

He sounded embarrassed about entertaining an archaic sentiment to keep his unit civil.

For the remaining week, you silently work yourself to the bone to produce as many mechanical behemoths your body will allow. Sweat and blood mixes with cracked skin, pained knuckles, and newborn calluses.

Worst of all is that you feel Kino’s eyes on you when he stalks past Table Four in his rounds. You only look up when you’re passing a part to Gris. 

Across the table, Trem is the first to voice his concern — the mousy inmate murmurs your name every kriffing day at the end of every kriffing shift like he’s scared of a woman possessed, hoping one time he’ll catch your attention and talk you off a ledge.

You ignore him.

You ignore all of them.

You have to prove your worth is more than the rumors, even if these men mean little to you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

        Sixteen days later, Table Four secures first place.

The call is down to the wire, but when Kino shouts for time’s up, it’s Table Four that reigns victorious for the most amount of finished items on their cart. 

Gris and Pusl cheer like they’ve won the credits lottery, hugging everyone down the table line as they whoop and holler — and purposefully avoid you, because they’ve learned their lesson the first time and don’t intend to repeat mistakes when he is within earshot.

Trem is the only man willing to take the leap of faith. His baby-fat face sports a wide, appreciative smile as he rounds the table and ducks into your downcast view. Trem bumps you with his shoulder, a nudge at best, with an endearing timidness.

He mouths a thank you, because he’s well aware why this worked in the first place.

Because of you. 

Because you made it work.

Yet you don’t feel the joy that should come with this win. In fact, you don’t feel much of anything beyond anger. Hatred, perhaps, that they reap the benefits of your negotiated success. 

Negating the celebration to enter the barracks early, you stalk to the elevator alone and wait in the back as each table files in. You are the last to leave the elevator, but the first to enter your cell.

Like clockwork — like his promise — Kino arrives minutes later to find you trying the coveted flavored tube food for the first time.

Within a fortnight, his post-shift visits have soured. What once was a breath of relief now hangs with an expectation. For the past two weeks, he's visited yet nothing is said. What can you say when the rest of Unit Five-Two-D watches, waits, to see if he'll take you himself? 

Ignorant to the passing stares, Kino leans his forearm against the trim of your cell, observing from the main floor rather than inviting himself in.

“Flavoring makes a difference, yeah?”

He looks a few years younger, almost… happy? If you’re so bold as to think he has the capacity not to scowl. A ghost of a smile lingers on his lips while he quirks a brow to you.

Carefully removing the tube from your mouth, you let the words marinate for a second before pulling more of the tube from the wall. “Do you want some?”

He chuckles under his breath. “I’m not allowed any.” 

“But we’re swapping spit anyway.”

Albeit a cruel gesture, you extend your arm and offer the tube to him, expression blank. The smile on Kino’s face fades, dropping the raised arm to his side. His broad chest puffs and falls with a tired exhale.

However instead of walking away, Kino takes the bait and steps into your cell. His hand raises, outstretched to take the tube, but his fingers fall over your fist. He says nothing at first, allowing the moment to play in silence, only to push the tube back to you.

Then he calls your bluff: the day shift manager drops in height slowly, inch by inch, until he kneels right in front of your cot.

The others can — and with your shotty luck, will — see.

“Don’t let them take this from you,” he murmurs with an earnest sense of pride. You let him manipulate your limb, guiding your hand over and up to your lips. “You earned this.”

You hate him.

You hate that you wish you hated him.

Your jaw clenches, head shaking. “I don’t feel like—”

“Stop.” Unwarranted kindness to your cruelty; he interrupts and raises the tube again, urging you to take a sip of the flavored liquid. “You did. Do I make myself clear?” His tone bubbles an intense emotion in the middle of your throat, almost causing your dreary eyes to water. “Say it.”

“Kino—”

“Say it.”

You earned this.

Your lower lip trembles as you lean in, taking the tube from his fingers. “I earned it.”

Kino frowns, following you as you take the tube into your mouth. “Wouldn’t lie to you, love.”

Love.

The absent term of endearment has you sucking in, sharp and fast, so you don’t have to overthink the slip of his tongue. Flavorful food fills your mouth — it’s lukewarm, but deceivingly delicious after spending months feeding on nothing but gel.

The image before you — Kino kneeling and holding the tube to your mouth as you hollow your cheeks, sucking the liquid down your throat — brings a heat to your face.

It must finally click for him, too, what he’s said — what he’s doing — because Kino blinks in rapid succession and releases the tube, clearing a tickle in his throat.

“Congratulations,” he finishes, standing once again to leave. You say nothing, can’t protest even if you want to, and follow with your eyes as he beelines straight for his cell across the way. 

He drops to a thud to his cot, head bowed and hands clasped tighter between his separate knees, and stays like that until the minute warning chimes.

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        That night is plagued with restlessness. 

It must be close to two in the morning when you stir, annoyed that you can’t catch sleep. Tossing and turning to find a comfortable place, you shift towards the open mouth of your cell and open your eyes to find that Kino Loy is also not asleep.

He lays on his side, one hand flattened as a makeshift pillow, staring at you.

If it were Trem or Melshi, then perhaps you’d be unsettled, but because it’s Kino, the sight is… comforting. You swallow thickly and stare back, saying nothing.

And for a few minutes, it’s only this. Watching. Waiting. Being in the company of another in the stillness of Narkina 5.

You’re not sure what possesses you to lift your hand, absently dragging fingertips down the side of your neck, but the touch is pleasant. In the dim light of the electrified floor you can see something flicker in his eyes; he’s following the movement.

Your fingers circle back and run along the same path a second time, but your breath hitches when his free hand rises to his neck, gingerly traveling up to the scruff of his jaw.

Mirroring you.

(Is he mirroring you?)

Testing the twilight theory, you change course to drag higher and along the edge of your jaw. Kino follows, rustling the salt and pepper facial hair covering the lower half of his face.

There’s something wholly erotic about the sight of his hand grazing his scruffy cheek when you touch the smooth planes of yours.

This feels forbidden.

(But why doesn’t this feel wrong? )

Nothing stops you from gliding your index finger along the seam of your lips. Kino’s hand pauses and you think maybe, just maybe, the game is over, but the older man takes his thumb and mimics the draw. Heat consumes your body, pooling between your legs as you squirm against your cot.

You want to call out to him.

You can’t.

Drunk on the power it takes to keep going, your index finger slips between your lips and Kino stops moving. His own lips part in awe, body frozen, and you wonder if he’ll groan if you hollow your cheeks.

Then Trem coughs above you.

You startle, flying to lay flat on your back, eyes to the ceiling and hands pressed to your sternum.

(What the fuck are you two doing?)

Seconds feel like hours for the room to go back to snores and nonsense babbling. And when you roll your head to look at Kino Loy, he’s turned his back to you to sleep.

Kriff.

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        This week Kino stops visiting your cell after shifts, but the game after dark continues.

In his absence, you’re met with surprisingly pleasant visits from Trem. The scrawny man is eager to chat your ear off about what being in a women’s prison was like, if you’ve seen the outside world in your transport, what food can’t you wait to wait once you get out of here — not if, never a doubt — before he climbs the ladder to his cell for the evening.

Kino remains nowhere to be found. Discussing productivity with Melshi, talking others out of taking the plunge to the damn floor, but never once coming to see how you’re doing.

He purposefully visits Table Four, however, during factory hours to shout at your team to push harder. 

You’re certain he’s only doing it so that he can catch your eye on the other end of the table.

His line of sight makes you burn.

You would say you miss talking to him, the nearness of him, but when you turn in your sleep and find Kino watching you from across the hall, you catch yourself missing him most like this: at the ready on the other side of the electrified barrier after an agonizing day, avoiding the unit’s watchful eye.

He waits, perfectly still, until you start with a hand on your cheek. Within a few beats, he will follow — tracing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone; you’ve thought about dipping your hand lower, to your chest or the waistband of your uniform, but you chicken out and roll to your back every time.

This sudden illicit affair consumes your thoughts so completely that your team slips from a steady second place to fourth by the tail end of the month, but you can’t find a way to care.

Unit Five-Two-D believes you are his.

You’re beginning to wonder if maybe they’re right.

In what little sleep you earn, you’re stuck fantasizing on a loop of what this could have been like. Who he might have been before his sentencing, before Narkina. Would you have met in a seedy cantina on the Outer Rim? Would you have entertained his company, bought him a drink, taken him home? Surely those arms can pick you up — you’ve seen him work, to help the tables that struggle, how misleading the Narkina uniform can be on a body. A man of little words, maybe, but another version of him whispers the filthiest of promises to a woman he barely knows against a sink, within a shower stall, at the threshold of the home you’ve left behind.

There are very few things you can focus on while serving a bullshit prison sentence.

Kino Loy just happens to become your only thing.

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        After today’s grueling shift, you’re one of the last people to shower. When you first stepped foot into the stall, the time ticked on: twenty minutes until light’s out. By the time you’re finished grooming and changing, you have about a minute and a half to get settled in your cell.

Except that isn’t what you’re going to do.

The shrill chimes of a minute’s warning sound above you when you’re only three cells from yours. Kino has already retired to his cot, freshly washed and fed. He doesn’t regard you because the lights are still on.

You stop in the middle of the floor, contemplating on impulse.

(You shouldn’t.)

Maybe the rumors of your situationship with Kino have died down, but that doesn’t explain whatever the fuck this past week has been.

You can’t do the same again, not tonight.

(Thirty seconds.)

Rather than turning right towards your cell, you casually step up and to the left — right into Kino Loy’s cell.

The wall is deceiving; at first your hand slips, forcing you to press both to maintain your balance.

That gets his attention on impact. Kino’s attention snaps from the ceiling to you, eyes widened like oversized factory floor bolts, and he leaps clear off the cot with his arms gesturing wide.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps in that familiar drill sergeant tone. “Minute’s nearly done.”

“I’m staying here tonight.”

“You’re what?” 

His surprise bursts, voice louder than anticipated. It causes a few men in the surrounding cells to peek their heads out, observing the commotion. Kino’s face gradually turns several shades of red with each passing, precious second.

“Go back to your cell. Now. That’s an order,” he hisses. You wait at the edge of his cell, shaking your head. “You’ve only twenty seconds.”

“Fifteen,” you correct, half-convinced he’ll shove you onto the hardwired floor to make a point.

“Are you insane?” He’s never stood so close before, practically nose to nose. You can smell the scent of his toothpaste and body soap.

The chime signals that ten seconds remain, and the electrified ring around the prison floor twinkles in its prepped glow. Kino looks stricken, caught between rock and a hard place to find a way to push you the hell out without frying you outright. 

You boldly duck your attention to catch him.

“They think I’m yours, remember?” you murmur. 

His forehead smooths, the realization catching up a moment too late.

Three. Two. One. 

The floor turns a brilliant red and simmers to a deathly off-white, and in a panic Kino wraps an arm around your waist to drag you to him and away from the cell’s edge.

His grip remains harsh on your body, and it’s here you truly see the strength hidden under prison uniform. Taut muscles press into you, locking you in place, and you can’t help but feel a little dizzy from the proximity.

Trapped. 

You’re trapped in his cell until the morning alarms, and Kino is beyond irate.

“You’re out of fucking line, kid,” he growls into your face, candid in his fury.

“Everyone will ignore us in a minute,” you reply, observing the aging crow’s feet around his eyes. “If they think you’ve stuck some arbitrary claim on me, then it doesn’t make sense—”

“You could have been bloody killed. ” 

“—if I never sneak over here at night.”

Puffs of his breath tickle your lips as the plan registers, slowly then all at once. Keeping up appearances for the sake of your safety in the midst of your table disliking you — you want to tell yourself over and over again that that’s why you’ve crossed this burning bridge, but you would go mad if you spent another night on the other side of the firewall watching him touch his face as if it were you.

Because that’s what it was, right? He was imagining not a past lover or someone else, but you.

Kino swings you both around as he brings you flush against the wall and out of sight of the open space. For the most part, your theory proves correct — someone on the far side cat-call whistles, causing a few men to chuckle, but the floor quiets until it’s just Kino Loy holding you hostage with your back to a wall and his arm around your waist.

“There isn’t enough room for us to both sleep on a cot,” he finally says under his breath, and you breathlessly laugh. 

“I plan to sleep on the floor, Kino.”

“Like hell you are.”

“Well you’re not sleeping on your own floor.”

A beat passes. Something darkens his expression. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Your brows knit. “Why?”

He leans in to speak low in your ear. “Because they would expect me to happily climb into a cot with you.”

The way he says it brings back the familiar nighttime warmth that radiates through your body, your uniform, and you’re stuck staring back with a sheepishness so unlike you. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right,” Kino sours, turning to look at the cot with a grimace. “Next time, tell me when you’re about to do something stupid.”

“I thought of it in the shower.”

“Yeah, well, shower’s never a good place to make concrete decisions, is it?”

Can’t argue with that. Only now does he realize the proximity, but he doesn’t pull away like you’ve electrocuted him. Instead he observes the space between you, or lack thereof.

“Heart’s about to beat out of your chest, love,” he mumbles. The privacy of his head blocking you from the barrack’s view (and his) allows you a moment to close your eyes, to simply be, when you’re not sure what to do.

“I was going to say that I thought it was your heartbeat, but you never get nervous.”

He snorts. “Why d’you think I yell so fucking loud all the time if you don’t think I get nervous?”

You smile, catching his cheek with yours. 

“I didn’t want to be over there,” you finally confess.

Kino stirs, but he doesn’t pull away. “Why not?”

“Because if I see you touch yourself one more time, I’m going to go insane.”

The statement in your head is innocent enough, but when spoken out loud it dissolves to something dirty. Kino starts to groan but suppresses the noise with a mumbled fucking hell under his breath.

When the lights of the barracks fade, shrouding you both in what little hue emits from the colored buttons on the prison cell walls, he drops his forehead against your shoulder to search for his composure.

Then he speaks, and it’s the softest his voice has ever been:

“You don’t want to start this.” 

A long pause passes. Your jaw sets. “Start what?”

You hold your breath when Kino lifts his chin, stubble tickling your cheek as he wets his lips by your ear. 

“Letting me be as much of a man as the rest of them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“I know you’re stubborn, but you’re not stupid.” He talks to the wall supporting your head, unable to look you in the eye at this confession. “You know exactly what it is I’m talking about.”

And you do. 

He speaks of the dreams your brain has plagued you with, desires you’ve barely scratched the surface of understanding.

“You’re nothing like the rest of them,” you whisper in his ear, and Kino shivers.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” you argue with more force. “Just because they forced a rumor on you—”

“Forced?” he muses humorlessly. “Look at where we are. I didn’t deny it. I didn’t tell you, not until months already passed. I let them think of you in that way. How does any of that make me less of a threat to you?”

How are you not afraid of me, is what he wants to ask. 

You say nothing, mesmerized by a blinking red light on the far wall as you tumble through your brain for a reason why you trust him over everyone else.

Why you’re drawn to this, more than anyone else.

You know why — saying so just makes it true.

“I don’t regret much of what’s happened in my life, but I’ll be damned if I’m part of why you could regret something in yours,” he concludes, disappointment lacing through his growl of a murmur.

“And did you ask me?” Finally he pulls back at your question to study you, brows furrowed. You stand your ground, forcibly staring at his face. “I’m sorry to report, sir, but you only own me on that factory floor. You do not own my decisions, or what I want, when I’m not working, so don’t act like I didn’t wait for you, too.”

Kino contemplates on this, hard, before swiping a hand down his face.

“...floor’s not gonna be the thing to kill me. You are.”

Neither of you move in the small alcove of his cell, finally face-to-face for longer than a twenty minute conversation. If you stood a fraction of an inch higher, you could kiss him. You could ruin everything and kiss him while Taga, Gris, and the rest of the floor witnesses.

(Rumors to reality. Let them see.)

“I looked forward to it,” you finally say, reaching between you to take his scruffy chin in your fingers. “Whatever the fuck we were doing. And if you’re forgetting I’m the one that started the other night, then the next — and I would’ve done the same tonight.”

Kino blinks twice, tensing at the contact before deflating. “It’s only because I told you about the—”

“I miss feeling human,” you admit, cutting him off. You chew on your lower lip, betraying your resolve and earning his undivided attention. “I miss feeling like a person, Kino. You don’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat, like I am a mistake, and it makes me feel human. This has nothing to do with what the rest of the unit thinks, so stop minimizing yourself on my behalf.”

His brows knit with concern and soon he’s moving, walking backwards and pulling you along with him. Step by opposite step, your torsos remain pressed together until the back of your knees hit his cot.

Sucking in a sharp breath, the older man slides his arm away from your waist to cup either side of your face. Kino visibly swallows when his thumb runs along your skin, so focused. (So careful.) The touch feels heavenly; something otherworldly, like you don’t deserve something so kind, something so gentile, but you lean into it like a lifeline and close your eyes.

Overcome with bliss, you bring your own hand to press against one of his, keeping his calloused fingers in place.

“Look at me.” Lazily you obey his quiet command, eyelids fluttering sluggishly to come back to him. Kino waits, determined. “If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that I won’t let you lose who you are in here.”

“It’s not your responsibility.”

“It is,” he decides. “You are. Have been since you came to my unit and will be until you leave it.”

Don’t make me sound noble. His words of warning echo through your head, and gradually you lower yourself to sit at the edge of his cot. Kino hovers, forever a protective statue, before sighing from his soul.

“Lie down. Turn around.”

When you whip your attention to him, he rolls his eyes.

“So we can get ready to turn in. Not sleeping with your morning breath in my bloody face.”

Scrunching your nose, you listen and slide as close to the inner wall of the prison cell as you can. You lower your body onto the surface, arm angled as a pillow while you anticipate Kino to join. His body weight shifts behind you, one knee on the cot then a hand before he molds himself to you, chest pressed tightly to your back.

You can’t — won’t — think about how your hips slot perfectly against his. 

A timid arm snakes around your middle, solidifying your place for the evening. “Is this alright?” he murmurs into the back of your neck, baritone vibrating your entire body. 

Afraid of what you may sound like, you nod and say nothing more.

You overlap your arms to get comfortable, and the world becomes impossibly too small. He grunts, woefully attempting to move without pressing his hips to yours. Your mind searches for something, anything, to say in this vulnerable state.

“I didn’t do it, you know.” The words blurt, and Kino stops moving. Go on. “What I was sentenced for.”

The arm around your middle tenses. “What do you mean?”

“I got set up. Said I committed petty theft. I had no idea the thing was ever in my pocket until a K-unit stopped me in the middle of the road, and that’s the truth.”

The day shift manager grows impossibly quiet. You wonder if it was the wrong confession to make.

“How long did they give you?” he asks, lips dangerously close to the apex of your neck and shoulder.

“600 days,” you answer. “By the time I got to Narkina, it was 523.”

“For petty theft?”

“Do you expect anything less from them?” you say, bitter, and he hums. 

“Lot of stories like that come through here.”

“What about yours?”

“My sentence?”

“Yeah,” you breathe to the white wall in front of you. “Did they make it up?”

“No, I earned my sentence.”

“What did you do?”

“Things I would do again,” he answers. “Wouldn't change a damn thing.”

“And how many days do you have left?”

Kino grows quiet, nose accidentally nuzzling your hair.

“Three hundred and forty-five.”

Your eyes round with recognition. “Less than a year.”

Being in the unit without him sounds like a death sentence. Your stomach turns.

“Yeah.” The syllable is barely spoken. “Something like that.”

“Maybe you can wait for me the other two-hundred odd days it takes me to meet you on the other side,” you tease, unwilling and unable to face the reality set ahead.

Kino laughs under his breath and it’s full of warmth. “Yeah? You wanna meet this old man at the platform?”

“Only if you have a bouquet of Queen’s Heart at the ready.”

“Flowers?” he mocks, squeezing you closer to his torso. You bring your lips into your mouth to avoid laughing. “Didn’t take you for a bouquet type.”

“I’m not, but I could try to be.”

He sighs heavily into your neck, allowing his lips to rest there as he speaks. “Tell you what: you go to sleep, we serve our sentences, get the hell out of this shitehole, and I’ll bring you flowers and buy you whatever drink fits your fancy at the nearest cantina. Deal?”

You reach down, squeezing his hand with yours. 

“Only if you have a bouquet of Queen’s Heart at the ready.”

“Deal.”

Your hands stay together for the remainder of the night.

Sleep comes to you faster than anticipated. Within minutes, you’re adrift to a state of dreaming of sunrays and sparkling lake water and real, solid food — all while sharing it with a free man, a good man, with Narkina 5 far behind from the both for you.

Admittedly, it may be the best sleep you’ve had in a long, long time.

When you wake, Kino stands at the cell’s edge, waiting to start another day.

[honey-child]

Touch

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapters: 1 (2425 words)

Summary: You remember each and every time you were touched since you were brought to this terrible place. And all of them were touches from Kino Loy.

Warnings: Implied threats of sexual violence

AO3 Link

[death---dealer]

Courting Imagines. ( Caesar x Reader, POTA. )

I'm a romantic at heart leave me alone. How did this end up being 6K+ words? Idk, but enjoy Next on this list for this series ( Courting ): Noa and Blue Eyes ( Potentially open to other characters, if you guys wanted! )

Does not know he’s actually courting you until it is brought to his attention by Maurice one slow afternoon. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

The two of them sitting and biding time, there’s not much to get done fortunately and Caesar is allowed a solemn downtime to rest and recoup after the chaos that had been happening recently as far as the influx of Humans stumbling upon the Colony and threatening them. As great as he was to lead his people, he wanted moments like this on occasion where he wasn’t being torn in thirteen different directions. Koba, Blue Eyes, Rocket, Ash, all having thoughts, all encompassing to Caesar who listened so intently to each of their concerns, and even the concerns of those outside of his council.

His gaze? Subsequently right on you as you were helping Lake rally in the young Apes into a circle. You had been blessed with time to spend with them for reading and learning, sharing the opportunity with Maurice when the attention was made that you were able to communicate to them to the point of understanding. Caesar paused when you lifted up a small Chimpanzee baby, giving himself a small huff as they climbed along your shoulder blades and began digging into your hair as you were talking. What about? Caesar could not hear but was more than entranced at watching your mouth form words.

Quietly, he drifted his eyes back forward to stare at the bonfire pensively. There was always a sense of pride that rocketed through his entire being at the notion that his people were free and prospering, but this time, he felt a bit more of an aggressive edge to the thought when you were added to the equation. It wasn’t an unsavory feeling, in fact, it was quite the opposite and Caesar preemptively accepted the lingerance, able to see your face when he closed his eyes.

You’d begun spending much more time together, almost all his days when he wasn’t thrusted into situations that beckoned his full attention were spent with you. Listening to you talk about Humanity, always a great perspective to Caesar who wrote off his eager curiosities about you as being the same as his curiosities for humanity as a whole. You’d gone fishing together, hunting on one occasion which he was partial to because you ultimately rode on the back of his horse and your entire body pressed against his own, you spent later evenings sitting by the fire in either silence or playful banter, sometimes even managing to get him to crack a smile or release a memory about his childhood with Humans.

He took silent pleasures when you would grasp his arm in laughter as you threw your head back in a laugh, green eyes lingering just a second too long on your exposed jugular, or when you would grasp at his hands when talking. All so Human, all so familiar to him but he wanted more deep down. Caesar especially liked it when you and he would spend time together and he was consciously aware that the rest of his Colony could smell his scent radiating from your body from the mere proximity you had to him. There was an animalistic prickle on his ears if he rested on that thought too long.

Maurice, attentive and intuitive to Caesar’s body language and thoughts, chittered silently to himself and that captivated the Ape King to break his glance on the fire. He had been in a deeply meditative state about you, somewhat grateful to the Orangutan otherwise Caesar was going to waste the entire afternoon recollecting the moments he had with you out of obsession to pick apart at the smaller details of them.

A great pass time for a King who loved strategy.

“Good,” Caesar spoke first and nodded his head in the direction of Lake, primarily you but he covered his tracks with the Ape his son had an acutely oblivious connection to, “She can take part of your duty.”

Maurice followed Caesar’s gaze and nodded in agreement, knowing fully well what he was alluding to without any more context, ‘She is smart.’ He signed, ‘Compassionate, would make for a great mate.’

Caesar scoffed at that, picking up a rock and throwing it mindlessly into the fire in front of him, his eyes sliding to you every few seconds. He’d linger only as long as he felt necessary, as long as no one else took notice. The thrown rock, a deflection of sorts, he shuffled back and looked at his wise friend, green eyes focused and determined. His gaze asked ‘what do you mean?’, almost grateful in a way that he didn't need to verbalize for Maurice for him to understand the expressive nature of Caesar’s brow ridge arched in questioning.

The large ape continued and chided Caesar, ‘You have considered that as a possibility, have you not?’

“Human as mate?” Caesar felt like his breath got caught in his chest as his voice came tumbling out in a deep baritone. Enriching, he would imagine, if he brought his face to the shell of your ear and whispered against it. ‘Distraction,’ Caesar signed to Maurice, ‘She….’ He hesitated his hands before choosing words, finding them a bit easier now to express instead of putting more effort into sign language. “Helps me forget what happened before.”

Maurice understood that. Cornelia, always such a sore point to bring up, especially when it was around both Caesar or Blue Eyes. She had passed away from complications after Blue Eyes was born and Caesar vowed to himself to never gravitate towards another, but in a bid to be less lonely in the scape of his longer life, he found himself drawn to you despite his best efforts.

‘Cornelia would understand,” Maurice was gentle with his actioned words, rumbling deep in his chest to Caesar who only nodded in minor agreement. ‘She would want your happiness. I can see it already, the way you look at her.’ Maurice turned his small green eyes in the direction of you and Caesar was prone to follow. He was captivated at you, how you were expressing with your arms now, two Chimpanzee babies cradling themselves along your shoulders now instead of the one he had seen climbing before.

Caesar broke away from that quickly and turned to look off in the opposite direction, ‘Just a distraction.’ He signed fervently.

Maurice, letting out a small sigh let his eyes rest on you for a few moments longer, knowing fully well that Caesar, as subtle as he tried to move and angle himself, was looking at you again, though this time the emotions of his eyes altered. They were almost softened, but the ridge of his brow stayed hard. Maurice knew better - Maurice could see the shifts in Caesar. It was only a matter of time until the Ape King came to the same realization.

Being brought to have a meal with him for the first time. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

Being escorted up the trail that landed where the Royal Ape family sat was not on your bingo-card for the timid Summer evening you found yourself swimming through. There were two Apes with you - Luca, who had to have been the definition of gentle giant and became a quick friend to you during your time at the Colony and Rocket, Caesar’s right hand man who had to be tied for that position with Maurice. You smiled graciously as they dropped you off at the perched ledge, your feet finding it difficult to move forward when you finally rested your gaze on the King himself. The pure intensity of his green gaze always left you feeling melted and soldered to the very ground you were standing on.

He wasn’t alone and you were quick to break your gawk to flicker your eyes to Blue Eyes, who in his reserved demeanor, only looked at you curiously and popped a berry into his mouth rather reluctantly. The smile you gave him was gentle, understanding. You’d be hesitant of a species you had never met just like he was. He had every right and it was never taken as an offense.

“I-I was told you wanted to see me.” You laughed, trying to cover up the nerves but you knew that Caesar was more than well aware of them based on the sweat radiating off your palms and forehead.

Silence, he just looked at you and captivated your gaze in a dance. It was hard not to look at him, his entire self, the way his shoulders carried his weight, the way his brow sat so sternly against the rest of his features, a permanent scowl always encasing the wrinkled lines along his cheeks, especially under his eyes. Caesar was an experience himself, in every sense of the word and you flexed your hand wanting nothing more than to know what his fur felt like.

He was sitting next to his son, picking up a fresh bowl of what looked like the Elk that had been caught in the hunt earlier in the day and a handful of select berries with a splash of roasted seeds. Your stomach churned at the sight, mouth suddenly dripping as it dawned upon you just how hungry you were.

The bowl slid your way along the slick rock and rattled right at your feet. You looked at it, and then at Caesar and then back at the food. You were about to open your mouth in protest, but Caesar spoke first, that delicious tone he used more than enough to stave off your hunger for days.

“Join.”

Stumbling forward, you were quicker than you wanted to be to grasp the bowl, feeling a bit dizzy when you stood with it in your hand, “Y-- You want me to join you up here? I don’t know, Caesar. Koba’s gonna---”

“Will take care of Koba, join.” Caesar assured you and tentatively put some seeds into his mouth. The crunching of his teeth against them enlightened your senses to how powerful of a jaw he really had and the floating notion that he could rip your limbs off one by one with them was alluring to dive into. Morbidly, you just wanted to know what it felt like. Instead, you felt encased in synthetic movement as you drifted towards him, like he was the source of all gravity, and sat cautiously down.

Cross legged, you placed your own bowl in your lap and set your eyes on the large Ape next to you, then to Blue Eyes who seemed equally curious at his Fathers choice of dinner guest, and then back to Caesar again. Swallowing softly, he did not meet your glance. Instead, silence fell over the two of you as he continued to eat, prompting Blue Eyes to do the same. It looked good, no doubt.

You felt hungry, but all of a sudden, all your eyes wanted to feast on was Caesar. The rise and fall of his shoulders as he moved through his own food, obviously picking out what he liked best from the assortment and bringing them to his lips. You paused there, watching as he placed a berry against them as if in contemplation, the juicy nature speaking wonders as a drip fell onto his chin as he turned towards you slowly. Swallowing, you looked down at your bowl in a bid that maybe he hadn’t seen you staring at him and pretended to be rather interested in the seeds you played around with with your pointer finger.

“Not… hungry?” He finally broke the silence that was radiating through the air like a daft bullet, looking at you from his periphery. The shaking of your hand was more than indicative, the flushed appearance of your cheeks made Caesar want to pick you up right then and trail to the nest. But, reservation was preserved, as it so often did.

“Starving.” You finally admitted with a bashful smile and licked your lips. “Don’t know where to start.”

“Berries are good.” Caesar commented hap-hazardly, delving a bit into the small talk that he knew Humans enjoyed, knew you enjoyed because it drew on your most basic instinct of belonging. He wanted that - for you to feel like you belonged, in fact, that was the entire basis of getting you to come join him for a meal. Just one, and if he felt it went well, there would be another, and then another.

You nodded at that. Berries are good. So, that’s where you started as you picked between them and placed a blueberry in your mouth, Caesar watching with great interest from between the focus on his own food and the floating eyes from his son as you placed it on the tip of your tongue first before bringing it into your mouth with a delectable chew.

Caesar giving you gifts/tokens. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

It had been an incredibly long day - and it was one of those days where when one thing went wrong, the dominos began to fall and everything was coated in sour feelings. You had bumped your forehead rolling out of your hut this morning, forgetting that the doorway was smaller than your height, understandably so. Apes often walked on all fours, why would they need a doorway that gave enough clearance for an upright human?

The only place with that here was Caesar’s nest, perched high above the rest. It gave a sense of coziness, until you rammed your head against it. Every feeling in your body from that moment onwards just told you to stay home, that you’d be less of a detriment there than out with the hunt party that was departing at dawn. There was no sustenance to eat- you ended up at the Colony bonfire for breakfast too late. Only a few lingering berries remained, maybe an apple that had a bite taken out of it. Your horse refused to comply with your commands, almost biting your fingers off when you brushed your fingers a bit too close to their muzzle and looking at that now in self-reflection, she probably hated that you were in such a downward mood and sensed to play off of it and lastly, you had stepped in a puddle and the worn nature of your boots caused water to seep and linger on the wool socks you had on.

Grunting quietly to yourself as you trailed back towards your small home after arriving back from the hunt was more egregious; you just felt incredibly sore from sitting on your horse for most of the day, watching as the Apes embarked on a hunt. The grace of which you had never seen. They took to the skies from the trees, getting the advantage of pure silence as they were able to sign amongst each other when prey was spotted. They took to the ground, either on foot or on horseback, all encased in the vivid whitescape of their paint, some adornments of blue and red splashed against the most prestigious.

Caesar’s was red, the detailing on his face and down the center of his chest caught your attention right away but you tried not to linger too adamantly on that and figured you’d have time to obsess alone. And alone you were for most of the day. It was slow on your part- you found no human remnants to scour goods from, another thing to go wrong on a day that you didn't even want to be out of bed for.

Bringing a hand up, you lightly rested it against your shoulder and sighed to yourself, tendering the skin at the base of your neck with the pads of your fingers. Your horse had been given to Luca to place in the paddock, he must have sensed the sort of day it was from the way you dismounted the animal and grumpily handed him the reins. He did not say anything to you, but the kindness of his eyes spoke wonders as you had given him a slight smile before trailing off on your way. You just wanted to sleep and nothing more and your hut was only a few more paces away. The sweet victory of the idyllic nature of your nest was taunting you with its call. The warm animal pelts you had taken in, the knitted tight branches that were surprisingly buoyant when you shifted in your sleep. All things you wanted, all things you needed.

Your feet came to a slow stop against the slick rock underfoot as you rounded the corner towards your own hut, happily situated on the ground rather than floating up-above, as was the preference with Apes. Eyes widening in surprise at the basket in front of the entryway, you narrowed your gaze on it as you got closer, a bit afraid that perhaps Koba was playing a practical ( or cruel ) joke on you.

Upon further inspection with your eyes as you bent down to look at the contents, you deemed it safe and drove your fingers down to see what was in it. It was a simple wicker basket, but it wasn’t made by an Ape - you could tell from the fabrication and the glue that was holding some pieces together. Very obviously human, the Apes made better items than this. You imagined that, the idea of things like this being so mass-produced only ten years ago before the Flu took that away.

Lips parted as your fingers scaled the items in the basket and you were able to properly see what was inside, you felt a rather uncomfortable sensation lifting against your spine, upwards towards the base of your neck and then back downwards. There were… Human things in the basket. All human things. All things you enjoyed, a few bars of soap that were actually encased in original packaging, rare in this society. You looked at them, feeling tears hit the back of your eyes. Shampoo, conditioner. All things Apes wouldn’t understand, the vain essence of humanity holding and rearing its ugly head right against your chest at the fact that you had sorely missed these luxuries and you were going to savor them as long as you could. The last item - incredibly personal in nature.

Tampons.

You picked them up with vicious intent and peeled the box open. It was nearly full and you tilted your head back in pure relief, knowing that you could alternate between them and the cloths you had to be forced to use and re-wash when that time of the month came. There was only one Ape who had a vivid understanding of what it was used for which gave away the suspense of figuring out who had set the items out for you. These were given to you from the King himself; Caesar.

Jaw clenching tightly, you placed all the items back into the basket and lifted yourself up with the basket in tow as a few tears slid down from your eyes, across the barren nature of your cold cheeks and off the drop of your chin. You had no idea where he got ahold of these items, when he had split away from the pack he so often found himself surrounded by to go searching, but you were so incredibly grateful for them, the knowledge that you were able to hold onto a bit of yourself from before the Flu more evident now than ever.

Caesar paced himself on all fours, two or three meters away from you between the trees to make sure you got the items. There was no way for you to not deduce he was the one, there was just the added touch of assurance that you got the items that he was worried more about. He did see you look out, and for a split second, he thought his cover had been blown as you appeared to look right at him, but the nature of his fur catapulted him into a more camouflaged nature and he watched contently as you drifted into the hut you had made your home, arms full of the goods he was able to supply.

Caesar felt obscenely proud and selfishly so at the idea that these things would rocket him on your potential list of suitors. If you had one. If he oh so happened to even be included.

Caesar finally admitting to you his intentions / Forehead Touching for the first time. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

It was a remarkably clear day, the thought was only spurred by the sun that drifted downwards and captivated against the skin of your shoulders deliciously. Geographically, you were burdened with many foggy days, many days where the sun could not peek its head out from behind the clouds. But today? Not a problem as you tilted your head back and drew a deep breath in with shut eyes. The way your body moved, the rounded entrancement of your chest, exposed as you were only wearing a light t-shirt, caught the attention of Caesar right away.

He had been so used to the fall and winter months where you were layered beyond belief - an undershirt, over shirt, long sleeve shirt, sweater and jacket. So many layers for him to dismantle when he was left to his own devices in a certain mood. Seeing you like this, the caress of your body against the thin-fabric of the worn out shirt was more than a sight to behold for the Ape next to you. There was a symbol faded against the fabric, lost to time Caesar figured.

The meadow you had so graciously decided to stop and have lunch at on your way back to the Colony from a day spent scouring some human desolations was open for what seemed like miles on all sides. It was happily flushed with lush green grass, dandelions that were just now beginning their transformations from yellow to a pillowing white, wild flowers sprung in patches against your forearms as you rested back against them in a bid to get more sun to soak into your pores. Caesar, as diligent as ever, looked down at you with eyes that could rival the shrubbery in color and elegance.

You smiled at him briefly, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes, your arm grazed along his as you put yourself into position to look up at him without blinding, the rest of your weight fell onto your one supporting forearm. “Seems like so long ago,” That was softly said, as soft as the breeze that touched the most delicate flowers and rattled their petals.

Caesar couldn’t look away from you, could not focus on anything but the way you were speaking to him, your eyes unable to be detected from behind the shielded nature of your outstretched arm and he was left with the delectation of your lower face, your jaw which he wanted nothing more than to bite along, your mouth which he wanted nothing more than to urge and please in a bid for you to say his name. “The days when the sun didn't stop.”

He knew what you were alluding to. The Rise itself and the infraction that humans had to associate that with the ever encompassing wilderness that took its hollow place. There was no argument to be made from Caesar though, the sun did seem to shine so endlessly in the memories he had of his human life.

“Do you… think about them often?”

Your eyes shut and you rested your head back onto the ground in contemplation. It was always a loaded question from Caesar. He asked you when he felt you were being reminded of that time and the answer always depended on how you felt in those moments. Sometimes it was a very flat and honest ‘yes’, sometimes it was a more forlorn and yearned ‘no’, and sometimes? There wasn’t any verbal answer and you just hummed a response, not wanting to answer because there was nothing to truly answer.

You would always think about them, sure, but that did not mean you missed the all encompassing position it was to be a human. The cruelty far outreached the good in most cases and it left an incredibly guilt-ridden emotion to linger along the base of your neck, like a pulled muscle you couldn’t tenderize back into compliance.

“Don’t you?” You finally retorted, Caesar drawn back at the action in your voice. You hadn’t ever answered his posed question like that before.

“Used to a lot,” He admitted without hesitance, “Soon after finding the Woods, establishing,” Caesar gestured broadly. He was talking about the Colony itself. “Thought of them a lot.”

You drew into his words with such passion, reaching for anything he was willing to tell you about that time in his life and how it led him to this moment. Taking a deep breath into your lungs, you savored the smell of honeysuckle mixing with Caesar’s waft, so crisp like the river water but musky like the ground of the woods after a clear rain. Consequentially, when you finally looked up at him and caught eyes, yours were widely dilated from the pure draw of his essence. “Did it hurt to leave them?”

Caesar seemed to contemplate that for more than a moment, his head tilting to the side and brows relaxing with the thoughts running through his strategic mind. How you wanted to bury yourself into his brain just to capture a glimpse of his outrageously confident and skilled thought-process. It still rattled you to your core this day when you thought about it for too long.

“Yes.”

A strict admittance, but you expected nothing less from him. “I thought… it would kill me.” Pushing yourself into a seated position instead of resting on your back, your gaze fell on the King and you found yourself tracing the smoothened lines under his eyes and how they always appeared to make his expression sad and tired. Maybe he was, you had no way to know unless he explicitly told you how he was feeling. Rare in and of itself.

“But, then… Cornelia… My… Son…” He nodded to himself and shut his green eyes in a contemplative melancholy, almost hypnotic state like the memories he was remembering where pulling his entire soul back to the moments they happened. “I would not be here had… had I not left… them behind. We… Ape...” There was a sudden flicker of heat in his gaze when he opened his eyelids and looked towards you, captivating your view with pure and undiluted strength and confidence in his answers.

“Would not be here. All… I have ever wanted,” He was marked with emboldened taste as he raised a hand to place it against your cheek. Not the first time you had him touch you, though certainly it was the first time he put intentional thought and provocation behind it. “Here. Now.”

His fingers were incredibly thick, one of them in diameter equaled two of your own. The strength at which he held the side of your face, your head tilting towards the warmth of his open palm as your eyelids drooped to a slow shut, told you wonders of what lay underneath. Caesar was undoubtedly holding back, the knowledge that he could touch you and cause bruises more than catering to his subconscious desire to tear you bit by bit just to get more of you. “Why… think about the past…”

His speech was slower but the words he was picking up from you to complete more coherent statements was remarkable in the time you had known each other. His fingers had drifted inwards ever so slightly, a centimeter apart until he had encapsulated your bottom lip with his thickened thumb. You swallowed with action, bringing your head forward and with a rush, Caesar had his forehead against your own and the back of his hand was embracing the back of your skull to keep you close. “When we have future?”

Caesar being protective / Defending You. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

It was difficult to describe. The way that Caesar looked at you, his hands splayed with blood when he went to cup the side of your face to keep it steady, the bloodied hand print adorned the usually smooth and loved nature of your skin. Frantic, the way his eyes split between your fluttering lids, the way that he looked at your lips before bringing his face close to feel the air coming from them. Alive, that action said. Lulling your head to the side, you found it difficult to maintain the stance your neck had to stay upright. You looked at Caesar for a second in a gartered haze, your eyes blurring to focus with intent. Swallowing softly, you narrowed your gaze but could not find it in yourself to centralize on any focal point.

Your head lulled back, your vision blurred.

Snapping yourself out of unconsciousness, you gasped when you felt your body weight leaving the ground but you couldn’t do anything about it, not even struggle to get a grip on whatever, or whomever was picking you up, one arm was resting against your chest, the other sprung out to the air as you were hoisted upwards. The fur that stuck to the fabric of your cargo pants, usually such a treat against your bare skin, was starch with a mixture of blood and rain water.

Your head lulled back, your vision was flushed with red.

You could see Koba, at least you thought in whatever drift of awareness you found yourself in. Smiling, it almost looked like as he signed a rather vague ‘weak human’. A body next to him--- You groaned to yourself at the approximation of his stance, the pure sweep of aggression he had against his fellow brother, gait intimidating and wide, staring Koba down with the intensity of what had to be the sun. Movements, you couldn’t pick them apart. The two Apes became a tanglement of nothing but arms and legs scratching into the air, scratching at each other and your mind was unable to dictate them apart from each other as it became one continuous blur of darkened fur. You could have sworn you yelled his name, telling him to stop but that was tangled in the actions of you being carried away.

Something wet against your temple. You wanted nothing more to get rid of the aggravation that the sensation caused as it dripped from the side of your head into your hair and bunched the strands together but your arms weren’t complying with your brains commands to move. Words were fluttering around you, rumbling in nature like the thunder that would shake the Earth during a storm.

Koba. Pushed. Hit head.

You got that and you were suddenly placed against what felt like stone. Cold and smooth, there weren’t divots poking their way into your body, but the burning from your head made you wonder if you were even comprehensive enough to know that or if you were floating off into oblivion. Intentionally smoothed, you thought to yourself and laughed at that, trying to feebly hold onto brittle consciousness. The comfort of a smooth rock, the rock itself being harder than anything else against the curvature of your spine. With swiftness, you were being analyzed. Your head, primarily. A set of hands, calloused around the edges, were cradling your neck before aiming to place a cloth against the right side of your temple. You groaned at that, squeezing your eyes shut as it came almost flooding back to you in waves.

You had been sitting with Caesar, Blue Eyes, Maurice… Rocket, Ash, you felt silly like you were naming the entire Colony but there was one more scarred face that no matter how many times you were encountered with it, left you chilled to your spine from the lack of empathy every shown towards him and the hatred that seeped through, even through his one milky eye. Koba. The eternity of Caesar’s closest council… You had been there.

Smacking your lips, you tried to open your eyes all the way but the sting of liquid in them caused you to squeeze them shut as the presumed wound on the side of your head was being tendered by the beautiful adorned staff of Female Apes whom had knowledge to treat, primitive as the methods were to you at times. Caesar had… asked you to be there, at the meeting itself, the topic was what to do about the Human Colony in San Francisco. He figured maybe you could give good introspective advice given you were a human.

Something… God, your memory was blurred in a heated frenzied chase to remember the smaller notions of how you ended up with a head injury. Something was said, something Koba didn't agree with - you cracked your fuzzy mind but there was nothing you said that could have been said that would cause Koba to lash out and blatantly attack you. Not in front of Caesar, at least. He was aggressive around you, but he was also incredibly coy.

The room came to a halt, cloth pressed against your temple and swiped away the blood before ceasing as heavy thudded footsteps radiated through the small hut you were warmly encased in. Or the warmth was coming from your body's natural response to being hurt, you had no idea but it felt good enough as you urged your eyelids open for a split second. Caesar.

There was a rush of signing between the King and the other Apes in the room, and with one last glance at you, they dissipated, almost into the air behind Caesar as he sauntered forward, the prickle of his fur on edge still, blood on his hand but now? There was blood casing around his nose, downwards and against his thinned lips, into his mouth and splattered along his teeth.

Guilt surged in you, “Kob- You- Attacked---” Whatever you were trying to say was hushed as Caesar grasped the side of your head, gently this time and tilted so he could get a better view. “‘M okay. Just…” You made a clicking sound with your tongue, “Bonk.”

“Injury like this…” Caesar chuffed, trying so desperately to stop his heart from flying right out of his chest and going back to finish the job with one of his most trusted advisors, “Can… be bad for humans.”

You shut your eyes when he put your head back upright. The primal perception was washing off of Caesar like it was a deep revelation. It was almost smothering, the way that he grasped for the cloth and began cleaning your wound himself, eager to see just how much damage there was in some attempt to bid his time rather than lashing back at Koba for what had been done. “Ape,” His voice was nothing more than a low surge against you, “Do not kill Ape, but…”

There were no buts, you wanted to say as you squeezed your eyes shut when he placed the cloth against a rather tender spot. He pulled back adamantly, and moved forward to work another spot in your hairline and further into your hair. He knew, oh how he knew that you were going to complain about the dried blood in your hair, subconsciously Caesar found himself drawn to cope with that before you really became aware of it.

“Koba… wanted to prove… Human weaker than Ape… Should attack them. Pushed you to show,” Caesar gritted his teeth together and you swore you could hear the friction from inside of his mouth. It was evident in the stiffening of his body language that he was beating himself up for not being able to react fast enough to the situation, “Hit head on rock. Blood,” His voice hushed into a minor but hard whisper, “everywhere. Had you carried off… Before… ”

He didn't bother continuing on that train. It was dead and gone as far as Caesar was concerned, not wanting now to recollect how perfect it felt to have his hands against Koba’s threat when in the surge of a protective instinct that washed over him at the mere sight of you on the ground, unconscious. Caesar cradled your head with surprising gentleness and you found yourself relaxing right into it. The action itself spoke wonders of his true, deeply ingrained feelings. Mate, the hold said, my mate.

“We are weaker.” You laughed out, finally snapping yourself into a more lucid state. You suspected a concussion, but there was no clear way to know as you finally got your eyes to stay open and focused on the green and gold nature of Caesar’s irises. So close to your own, you could swoop up and kiss him if that was your desire. He only chortled in response to your words, knowing that joking was often used as a way to cope with messier situations.

“No,” Caesar reassured and brushed a hand through the other side of your head. Never with his fingers really ingrained in, but more like a mild petting of comfort, usually reserved for moments after climax when you had tangled against him in pleasure. “Koba… weak. You…” The Ape King took a deep breath in and let himself sink his head down to kiss his forehead lightly against yours, upside down. The captivation he had on you down to the minute detailing of his fur tickling under your nose always left you dizzying for more, and you were grateful that Caesar did not pull away this time and lingered, “You are my strength.”

[eupheme]

— until we meet again

[masterlist]

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

Rated E - 5.3k

Tags - age difference, sexual thoughts/daydreams, crushes, mutual pining, enamored!alfred, love-at-first-sight vibes, romance, light angst, oral (f receiving), light daddy kink

Inspired by this incredible anon - I loved the idea of trying an Alfred POV + mini-prequel, for part of Penny For Your Thoughts (posted a year ago yesterday!) 💕

follows part i with a brief reference to part iii

It wasn’t anything more than chance - the briefest meeting of eyes from across the room.

And yes, he’s thought about that moment, wondering. But never thinking they’d meet again - that those thoughts of “what if” might actually be based in some truth.

He had noticed her.

Of course he had.

Eyes drawn to the form sitting at the bar, soon after they had stepped inside. No more than an idle glance until there was a turn of her head - until he recognized her profile.

The woman from the gala.

It had been months ago. Spring, then. The weather was just beginning to warm, flowers pushing through the earth to bloom in the sun as the days grew longer. He remembers the night well - a charity ball for the hospital.

Recalling how he had to wheedle Bruce into accepting the invitation - weeks had passed since he had last gone out, and there were reputations to be upheld.

Somehow getting himself dragged along, as well.

He had been half-listening when he felt the weight. One he had come to know during his time as an intelligence agent - the feeling of being watched.

Eyes sliding to Bruce first, who wasn't listening at all. Dulled eyes unseeing as they stood trapped together in a conversation with a pair of financial advisors from Wanye Enterprises.

Alfred's well-timed hums of agreement enough to carry the conversation, for now. His gaze wandered through the crowd at the cocktail hour, his own glass flute cool between his fingers, all but untouched.

There was a shift in the groups, a party splitting into two. A gap formed between them, when he saw her.

A woman - one he found stunning. Standing with her arm curled around her waist, the fingers of the other pressed against her lips.

They parted, when their gaze had met. She blinked at him with wide eyes - caught. Head ducking as she shifted back toward the companion she was with, the briefest glance back his way before she jumped back into the conversation.

For a wild second, he had thought she had been looking at him. A stirring in his chest he had not felt for ages, for years.

But, surely not.

The feeling twisting into something else, something he didn't wish to examine, as his eyes had flicked toward Bruce.

Towards the subject of her certain fascination. He supposed the thought was pleasant - he'd been trying to convince Bruce to go out, make friends - date - for years.

Anything to get him out of the Tower, to see him smile again.

Maybe even drop this new-formed interest in vigilantism.

This was certainly something to consider.

A rich bell rang out, then. A slow transition into the seated dinner as conversations wound down - each name carefully grouped on the thick, creamy-white seating chart. A gold charm around the stem of each of their glasses, the number stamped on the disc as a reminder.

Unable to help glancing for the woman again, as he moved towards his seat. Finding her - seeing her split from her friend, heading to a table alone.

An idea had swiftly formed. He knew the organizers of the fundraiser - the Wayne family still had close contact with the Hospital, their upper staff.

Excusing himself from Bruce’s side, though he wasn’t not paying attention - eyes glued down to his phone. Scanning through live traffic videos, itching to be out and anywhere but here.

It’s had been an easy thing, to switch his own seat with hers. An escort sent to gently divert her, claiming a mistake in the glass she received.

Her frown had been sweet - the briefest hesitance before she was guided to his old spot. Seated next to Bruce, while Alfred sat four tables away - trying not to watch.

Congratulating himself on playing matchmaker, though he doesn’t feel as pleased as he thought he would have.

Fitting in easily enough - had been acquaintances with a couple at this new spot. Conversation flowing over the appetizers, unable to help as his eyes drifted.

To Bruce, who sullenly picked at his food. Angled slightly away from his pretty dinner partner - Alfred was already shaking his head, his tongue trapped between his teeth.

God, help him.

Stealing the briefest glimpse to the side. Where he met her eyes, again. They lingered this time, for a moment - until her lips curved in a shy smile, until her gaze dropped again.

He allowed himself another moment.

Wondering, but not too much - not sure if he wanted to understand. It’d been too long since he felt a flutter in his chest like this, that wasn’t linked to worry or fear.

He didn’t know how to take it.

It’s hard to remember the rest of dinner. He knows he rushed through it - anticipating that Bruce would not linger, that he’d want to leave as soon as socially appropriate.

Excusing himself politely, as Bruce had stood. Allowed one last look at the girl he wouldn’t see again - just a small, stolen moment.

Before he had made for the door, holding it open for the younger man to pass through. Giving the slip to the valet, as they stood together in the chilly evening, the sun just settling below the horizon.

“Thanks for ditching me.” There was ice to Bruce’s words, a blade-sharp edge, “Should I even ask what that was all about?”

If they weren’t spoken in that tone, he might have been touched. There had been weeks where Bruce hadn’t wanted to be in the same room as him.

“Thought you might prefer a more interesting partner this evening.” Alfred replied smoothly. The next question coming unconsciously, not even meaning to ask it, “Did you catch her name?”

He could feel the eyes on him, but kept his own facing forward as he looked for the valet. Hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers, determined to continue the charade.

There was a low scoff.

“Maybe we should have traded seats, instead.”

Christ.

In this moment he had rued how perceptive Bruce could be. How over time, they had learned to read bits about each other.

A long moment, as the car pulled around. The valet exiting, rounding the front of the car before Bruce had taken pity on him.

His voice knowing as he finally told him her name.

Alfred had tried it out himself - later that night when he was alone. Rolling sweet on his tongue, before he locked it away.

No use dwelling on it, he had told himself. He was busy enough as it - a whole Tower to keep running, a young man to keep alive.

In a city as big as Gotham, another meeting would be unlikely. It would be be better for him to rid her - of any possible connection - from his mind.

And he had, as an old memory that sprung to the surface. One from the summer of his youth - fingers reaching out towards a painting at the Fitzwilliam Museum. An urge to feel the layered brushstrokes for himself.

Pausing, then drawing back. Knowing that it was not meant for that - his touch. That it would never be his. That beauty like this was best appreciated from afar.

And with that - the memory of her was locked away.

He moved on.

And now, despite those odds he had wondered about, despite the way he told himself he’d forget…

He finds they’ve been brought together, again.

Bruce has already split from his side, that honed, laser-focus taking over - leading him deep into the lounge. Leaving him in the doorway, jacket and cane in hand.

Firmly rooted to the floor, as something sweet blooms in his chest. A moment, before he can move again.

Of all nights to see her. Not that he was complaining, it was not at all an unwelcome surprise. But of course it comes on a night when Bruce is in one of his moods.

Hell-bent on a fight that Alfred knew he could never win.

He can’t bear to approach her. It would be impolite, and surely unwanted. She certainly had not dwelled on that night as he had.

And seeing her now, a vision - even from across the room - made him feel more foolish than ever.

But, he finds his feet unstuck. Taking him over to the bar. The urge to still stay close, in a place like this.

His eyes purposely finding Bruce so that they would not stray. Watching the stiff, uneasy gait of his walk as he approached the arch along the back wall.

Almost missing the scrape of a stool, a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

How she moves to be closer to him.

“Mr. Pennyworth.”

She says his name, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s heard.

A hand extended, and without thought he’s taking it eagerly. Unable to resist the slight squeeze - pressing his hand firmly against hers as he tries out her name for himself.

“Always a pleasure to see you, miss.”

For the moment, her attention is on him. Something he had not anticipated, unable to help a quick look over his shoulder. Finding Bruce again - where he’s talking to the two men, heads bowed.

Surely, he could afford a short conversation?

His eyes turn back, finding hers.

Where she’s watching him, head cocked, “I didn’t expect to see you here. This doesn’t seem to be your usual spot.”

The fact that she thinks she might know his usual spots at all thrills him. Enough that he’s returning her smile.

“Just here on business, miss.” He answers kindly but evasively - his guard still up, when it came to Bruce’s excursions.

Unable to help asking in return, “What about yourself?“

“Same.” She smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Though I’ve already done my rounds. I’ve been waiting for the traffic to die down so I can grab a cab.”

A soft, silent moment. The drink lifted to her lips, head tilting back. His eyes sweeping over the exposed column of her neck as she swallows.

A subtle dip lower - admiring, appreciating. The pretty shade of her dress, how it compliments her form. How for a moment, he imagines he was here, with her - an intentional date.

In another life. In another time - when he was ten, twenty years younger. Without the burdens of grief and the scars he still carries.

He’d ask her to dinner. Somewhere beyond his means, most likely. Unable to help it, wanting to sweep her off her feet, treat her to the very best.

Romance her. Bring her roses. Walk her to the door, after. Leaving with the anticipation of next time - and if he was lucky, knowing the feeling of her lips pressed against his

“Too bad you’re not here for fun, instead.”

Her sudden words feel like an electric shock, bringing him instantly back. A wistful, coy lilt to her voice, as she sets the drink down.

Bright eyes finally finding his, her words pointed, “That would’ve been even more interesting.”

Oh.

For a second he thinks she teasing, and what a cruel thing it is. But then he sees her expression, the pieces of the puzzle that he’s been avoiding fitting neatly into place.

Lips parting with an sharp inhale, eyes blinking. Scrambling to find words - because he still can’t bring himself to believe.

That she would actually be interested in him. Not when she was so pretty, so young - not when she could surely have anyone of her choosing.

“You flatter me.” He finds his voice, after a moment. The words almost rueful, “But I think I am far too old for that sort of thing.”

She laughs then, shaking her head, “That’s ridiculous.”

An elbow propped on the bar top, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. A slow lean forward, invading his space.

Close enough that he can smell her perfume - the faded scent of soft vanilla and amber against her skin.

Her voice going low, gaze fixed firmly on his, “Maybe you haven’t met the right girl yet.”

It’s been so long that he doesn’t know how to take it. Defenses rising up instead, deflecting the attention.

Self-sabotaging.

“Ah.” He breathes, watching as her eyes slowly drop to his mouth. Swallowing, before he hears himself adding, “Perhaps someone more like Master Wayne…”

Trying to circle back to before. His poor attempt from the gala - directing attention from himself, again.

Those clever eyes dart back up to his, as she laughs. The glint of the low lights off her hair as her head shakes, “I am certain Mr. Wayne is not interested, nor am I-”

He feels his presence then, the shadow with a weight that he would know anywhere. The silent steps, an appearance at his shoulder.

Alfred’s eyes linger, for just one more moment. Knowing their meeting is about to come to and end. A second of greed, clinging to that thin point of connection for just one more breath.

And then his head is turning, the spell breaking. Seeing the frustration that pulls at Bruce’s face, the downward turn of his lips.

“Just missed them. They’re at the other-”, Bruce all but growls - before his eyes are shifting, finally landing on her. Finally realizing that they’re not home and it’s not just the two of them, anymore.

His words are severed, as she smiles. A tight politeness to the curve of her lips that doesn’t meet her eyes.

Bruce’s head turns sharply, cutting her out of the conversation.

“I have to go. I’ll be home later.”

If he wasn’t in such company Alfred’s fingers would be pinching the bridge of his nose - always forgetting how little manners Bruce could have when he irritated.

The younger man almost recovers, offering a half-hearted bow of his head in her direction. Sweeping out the front door a moment later, as Alfred exhales a long-held breath.

“My apologies,” He manages - his own smile strung tight. Not the way he had thought this conversation would go, “It appears my business has been concluded.”

“Seem like.” She smiles then, small and wistful. A softness in her farewell, “It was really nice seeing you.”

A thousand things swirl thought his mind during the second that her gaze holds his. His keen memory calling back to her words before.

“-waiting for the traffic to die down so I can grab a cab.”

An idea forming to prolong this meeting for just a few moments longer. Not that he shouldn’t offer this anyways - it might be rude to leave her here alone without at least offering.

“Allow me to offer you a ride home. I believe you’re on the way, and it’s the least I can do.”

He has no idea if it’s true, but he’d drive her anywhere in Gotham.

She takes the offered crook of her arm. Fingers pressing into the meat of his forearm - his knuckles curled tightly around the cane, as he savors the contact.

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

A step as she moves in closer - tucking her body close to his, as they make their way to the door, together.

———

She does live close - her address carefully recited, as he mentally charts the best route to Gotham Village. A little pleased she lives somewhere safe - still in the Downtown-area, but not in places where Bruce visits often.

Soft idle chatter dissolves into a comfortable silence - with as much rain they have, you can only talk about it for so long - as he cranks the heat against the fall chill. Concentrating on the slick road ahead as he weaves through the streets.

Unable to help the occasional side-glance her way. So strange to have her in a place as intimate as this - only a hands-breadth or so away.

Wondering if her perfume will linger later, like a ghost.

His mind soon splitting, as it always did. Glancing up towards the sky - looking for the beacon. The summons he dreaded, only because it meant something had happened that was bad enough that they needed Bruce.

A summons that always brought him back to the Tower, to worry and wait.

But so far, the skies have only birthed the sheets of rain and dark, sweeping clouds.

The trip ends much too soon, as she gestures towards the row of brick apartments. Parking comes second nature - easily sliding his Bentley into one of the open spots outside the door.

Painted a pretty shade of green, like spring. Like when he had first saw her.

“Thank you for the ride, Alfred,” She tells him, his name sounding just as sweet as before. A hand coming to rest on the door handle, before she hesitates.

Her next words floor him.

“Would you come up if I asked you?”

His hands clench around the wheel, as he finds himself frozen in place. There’s not a lot of things that surprise him anymore. Not after what he’s seen, that he’s been through.

But this. This, was certainly unexpected.

“Oh.” He manages, this tongue feeling thick in his mouth. Catching the slow movement as she shifts - starting to lean toward him instead, an elbow resting between them. Her head cocked, eyes watching him so carefully.

Full of nervous hope.

There’s a hammering in his chest, a warmth that blooms across his cheeks and ears at the thought. At her offer - one he wishes so desperately to take. To reach out, sink his teeth into.

But does she know what she’s asking?

Does she really want him? And would she still, when she’s seen all of him?

“It’s uh, been a while.” He manages, to buy a few more moments to think. Even with her sweet teasing, he hadn’t thought they’d end up here.

Far too long since he’s been pursued. He’s forgotten all the steps, his feet feeling out of sync with this dance.

But she’s unfettered - the slowest shift as she moves closer. A soft inhale of breath as a hand reaches out. Her full intent shown as her fingers unfurl to rest against his knee.

Something sparking with her touch, coursing through him.

“I don’t mind if you’re nervous,” She confesses - a hitch of her breath. A small, encouraging smile sent his way, “I’m a little nervous too.”

At her words, something unlocks. The pressure of the want oozing up, seeping through the cracks of the wall he’s built so sturdily.

Unable to help the small, rough laugh just as her fingers inch up, towards his thigh.

To think that she was nervous. As if his rejection would come from a lack of desire, and not years of duty. Compounded into his skin, down to his bones.

He could assuage her. He could do that much.

Moving with a speed that matches her, his own head tilting slowing. Just until his nose almost brushes hers, until he’s close enough to see the fan of her lashes above heavy-lidded eyes.

“That’s not what I said, dove.” His words come out low, rasping. The endearment coming easily, as he watches how his tone effects her - the subtle shift in her seat.

The small gasp that has her eyes closing - those pretty lips parting.

For him. Waiting, just for him.

He moves.

Eyes finally closing as his lips brush against hers. Unable to help leaning in, the urge to touch - a hand reaching to cup her face, hold her close as a soft moan thrums in her throat.

A heady throb coursing through his chest when there’s the touch of her tongue against his lip. As he opens eagerly for her and she clings to him, pressing herself closer as she deepens their kiss.

His tongue passes over his lower lip when they finally part - still tasting her sweet mouth as she leans back. Shooting him a look that goes straight to his cock - heavy-lidded and wanting.

“Come inside,” She all but begs.

Robbing him of his breath, again.

His mind running wild at the offer and innuendo. Unable to help another small laugh, strangled in his throat.

I’d like to. He thinks, as his jaw tightens. Would love to see you come, darling. At least twice. A third time, if I can hold out. If that’s what you want.

Would it be so wrong, to have one night of selfishness?

His head shakes, ridding himself of the doubt.

Making a decision.

His fingers twist the keys, turning off the ignition.

Giving in to what he wants - at last.

“Alright.”

———

She is nervous, he can see it in the way she fumbles with the lock, missing it with her keys.

Though she has no reason to be. He’s hers now, and will be until she no longer wants him.

Hands coming without thought - one against the curve of her lower back, steadying her. Another wrapping around her smaller hand, easing the key in.

Unlocking the door.

“Bedroom?” She asking, a glance over her shoulder as he takes in her apartment - the details that make up her life.

Ready to take a step forward - but he’s not quite done kissing her yet, now that he’s no longer confined to the interior of a car.

His hand still wrapped around her wrist - using it to tug her back against him. Carefully turning them until her back presses into the door.

Her head tilting up as he leans into her space - hands sliding up his chest to grip onto his shoulders for balance.

Fingers finding the soft fabric at her hips at her lips meet his, rucking up the hem. Wanting to make her feel good, too - as her hips press into his. Fitting a strong thigh between hers as she clings to him, already grinding down on his offer.

Already wanting to taste her again, hands roaming up to cup her jaw. Tongue stroking the seam of her lips until she’s parting them with a groan. The sound high-pitched and wanting, as his own moan joins her.

Her fingers unfurl from his shoulders. A hand ghosting down to cup where he’s thickening in his trousers with each rock of her hips. Squeezing him, gently.

Fuck.

His groan deepens, grows louder. His hips jerking into her touch as their kiss breaks - as she grins.

The last bit of that worry and self-consciousness that clung to him like a second skin, fading away at her touch.

He wants her. He can admit that now.

“Bedroom.” He husks, a hand gripping onto her hip as he moves away, as the heels of her shoes drop down. Loathe to leave their connection - a hand still lingering at her jaw.

One that she catches, entwining with her own as she leads him further inside. To her sanctuary - where he lingers for a moment in the doorway, as she sits down on the edge of the bed.

Leaning forward, to reach her shoes - though that’s something he’d be glad to do, for her.

“Allow me.” He kneels, ignoring the ache in his thigh as she extends her leg.

His palm cupping the soft skin of her calf - the other hand deftly working the tiny buckle, slipping her foot free. A soft sigh as he rids her of the other - an easy practice to his movements.

Fingers brushing over skin, the soft sweep of a thumb against an ankle.

Old habits sinking in as he takes the briefest moment to line both of her shoes up next to her nightstand.

Lingering for a moment there, between her knees. Eyes lifting when her legs part further - spreading themselves open for him.

Traveling up the expanse of bare skin - from foot, to ankle, to calf.

Knee, to thigh, to-

Oh.

His breath is low, harsh. The word no more than a rough gasp.

“Stunning.”

This sight of her, right now. The smallest mark of worry between her brows, a bit lip mixing with the dark look in her eyes.

The shadow of her dress not quite disguising the scrap of fabric between her thighs. Darkened and soaked through. Wet, for him.

His hands move on their own. Sliding over soft skin, over the curve of her knee. Watching as she hikes her dress up a little more - but he wants to see everything.

Pushing the fabric up himself - to her hips, as he rises. Fitting his waist between her knees, as his fingers grip at her waist. Taking in every detail - each curve and inch of skin. The heave of her chest, the mounting hunger in her eyes.

The lips that part, begging for him.

“Please, sir.”

Christ, she was going to ruin him.

It’s not a title that was new, not exactly. But time had made him forget. Not wanting to deny her of anything - taking this scrap of what she might like, might want, and storing it deep within his chest.

If she really wanted it, she could have it. But tonight… all he wanted was to take care of her.

The smallest shake of his head as he bends, the curve of his nose brushing over her stomach. The brush of his mouth against her skin as he moves downward.

“Not sir.” He grits out - reaching the waistband of her underwear. A pretty little lace thing, just barely keeping him from what he wants.

Her voice comes again - the syllables light on her sweet tongue, “Mr. Pennyworth?”

That is a pretty sound, and oh so tempting. His eyes flicking up - dark and glittering as he considers it for just a moment.

But then, the smallest shake of his head.

“No, not that either. Just-“

Just Alfred. Just you and me tonight, dove.

“Alfred,” she coos, and he thinks she’s read his mind. Before he’s catching the sly look in her eye as her hip cant upward, “If you wanted me to call you daddy, all you had to do was ask.”

He can’t deny the effect it has on him - the desire that drips off each word. Filthy, in a way he had not been expecting.

Fingers pinching into her hips - unable to bite back the groan as he presses his hard cock into the side of the mattress. A desperate attempt at relief.

Dear god.

Her eyebrow is lifting, lips rounding on a soft and knowing little “oh” of interest.

His own face growing stern, the slightest edge to his voice, “That mouth, darling, is going to get you into trouble.”

If she keeps it up - the flirtation, the teasing, the just being her - then he will surely disappoint her.

Catching her sweetly off guard as his head dips. Flattening his tongue against the spot that is damp for him. A breath through his nose, inhaling her scent before he’s pressing close. Her hips jerking as she cries out, his own hands coming to cup her ass - keeping her pressed snug against his mouth.

Unable to help the low groan, sounding loud in the small room. The fabric darkening under his tongue as he presses into her wet center.

Again, and then again. Already able taste her through the fabric. Still unable to resist tugging the scrap to the side, so he can do this properly.

He takes his time. Tracing every inch with the point of his tongue. Parting slick, puffy folds as he groans, as his cock throbs in its tight confinement.

Leaning back, after a moment.

Needing more.

“Oh,” he rasps. A rough groan pushing from his chest as his fingers curl around the delicate fabric. Peeling them down her thighs, baring her pretty cunt to him.

Eyes flipping up, catching hers - how she’s strung-tight with anticipation.

“I could eat you all day.”

And he would - if it meant that she kept making all those sweet sounds for him.

Leaning forward then, to press his mouth to her. Thighs pressing into his shoulders as he explores with soft kisses and the flick of his tongue.

Listening to what makes her whine. What makes her go silent, breath hitching. What has her lips parting as she moans. As she moves with him, the unconscious rock of her hips as he fucks her with his tongue.

She wriggles above him. Her pussy pressing against his tongue as her ass lifts, so she can tug the fabric of her dress up, and then off. Letting it drop over the edge of the bed, lost in her eagerness.

Baring herself to him, as his eyes drag down. Past shoulders and to the lacy bra that matches the panties he tugged off her. The sweet curve of her breasts, confined in the fine fabric.

He cannot take it any longer. A request, one of the few he will make, slides from his lips. Breathed out against the soft skin of her thigh.

“Can I touch you, dove?”

Working quickly and efficiently - removing his prized golden cufflinks. Tucking them away safely within his trouser pocket, along with his wrist watch. Rolling up one of the sleeves of his shirt over strong forearms, as she watches.

“Yes.” She begs, as the fabric of the other sleeve pushes up to his elbow.

He can’t help the low growl, as his hands move back into place. Flattening against soft skin, dragging down until he’s stroking her sensitive inner thigh. Achingly careful as a finger glides across her clit, watching how she clenches for him.

Wanting to fill that pretty, greedy hole. Fingertips gathering her arousal, tracing the tight opening - before pressing a finger inside.

Sinking deep into the heat as she jolts, a heady moan as he begins to thrust.

Achingly tight as he fits another in, his eyes fixed on where he takes him. Unable to help thinking about how she’ll feel wrapped around his cock. A throb as she whimpers at the stretch - though in the same breath she’s pushing herself up on her elbows to watch.

Where his forearms flex, the noisy thrust of his fingers that come back slick and shining.

“Gorgeous.” He purrs, dipping his head to press a kiss right against her swollen clit. Tongue flattening to swipe over it next, as her thighs trembling, grasping at her bedding.

Pressing his fingers knuckle-deep, as far as he can reach. The techniques coming back to him - even after all this time - as the tips curl, press, drag.

He’s watching as she cries out with pleasure, greedy eyes taking every detail in. Doing it again so he can watch her lips part with a long moan. An unconscious and needy flex of her hips, pressing her soaked cunt closer to his mouth.

“Again.” She whines - as he tugs the plea from deep in her chest.

Unable to keep the edges of his lips from curling as his lips wrap around the sensitive bud. A soft suck as he steadily finds the soft with his fingers again, and then again.

Each of her breathes coming in a short staccato as she gasps, whimpers. Head tilted back - pretty, unfiltered thoughts pouring from her lips.

Begging, for him.

“Fuck me, oh god, please-”

Clenching down around his fingers that refuse to slow. That won’t stop until he feels her pretty little cunt come around them.

Wholly enraptured by her pleading - his voice going soft with want and emotion, “I will, darling. Anything you want.”

Because right now, he would. For tonight, this moment, he is hers.

“But I need you to come for me first. Can you do that for daddy?”

He does it, for her. Returning the favor - as his finger plunge and curl.

Wanting, needing - to bring her over that edge first. Ignoring the throb of his cock, the tightness in his trousers in favor of her mounting pleasure.

He sees how his words effect her. The clench as she bears down around him, a kiss-swollen lip trapped between teeth as she gazes at him with half-lidded eyes. The short jerk of a nod, lips parting to breathe out the word, “Yes.”

Just before she comes undone for him. Her cunt tightening around his fingers as she moans, head tilted back against the pillows. His tongue pressed against her swollen little clit, feeling how she throbs for him.

Each breath a high-pitched pant, soft sounds as her thighs tighten around him. His fingers still moving - drawing out the pleasure, pressing against that spot that had her sobbing. It’s perfection, in every sense of the word.

And, if all he has is this.

This night.

The memory, and her smile, and the taste of her on his tongue -

He thinks that would be enough.

Please excuse the self-indulgence, just feeling a little sentimental. Thank you so so much for reading 💖💕

[stargirlfics]

not over klaue and ball worship 🫣

when you want to spoil him (usually as a thank you for an especially nice present) you have him sit on the couch with his legs spread wide. You coo at him about how big he his, how heavy his balls are, and how hard it must be to carry all that around all day. And when you’re on your knees and popping each one in your mouth, he leans his head back and starts groaning 🫠

That’s so real like let me carry some of that weight for you, king 🤲🏾

Love this as an act of spoiling Klaue, treating him a little, the response you get from him is the gift that keeps on giving! I mean getting to watch him spread his legs out, always able to make whatever he’s sitting on look like his personal throne by the way he carries himself and lounges…talk about always wanting to hop in his lap

Like why am I already salivating thinking about watching him get so hard, hanging nice and heavy in front of you to do with as you please

He would love the compliments too, all your sultry sounding comments about how he’s just so big your hands are already full with him and how you can’t wait to taste him as you press your lips to his balls knowing you’ve had him breathing hot and heavy from the jump

He’s goddamn flattered and won’t apologize for the ego boost he’ll walk around with the rest of the day thanks to you!

The way his sack tightens when you pop them into your mouth and gently suck, I just have a feeling he would love the sight alone and helppp the groans yes you’re righttt, throwing his head back, his hips rocking into your touch, seeking the swipe of your tongue over his skin, yeah the need for this is so great bestie

this pic of him actually brings me to my knees like i know we see the spread! 🥵😵‍💫🤧

[3abydolll]

Part two of mistress wayne?! Love the first one 🫶

Thank you! It's in my drafts!

[piratesfromspace]

Flesh and Dreams (Kino Loy x Reader)

Kino Loy x Reader

Rated: Explicit

You've been caught by the Empire while pretending to be a man and sent to jail on Narkina. You have to survive while hiding your true identity in fear of being killed or worse. The man in charge, Kino Loy, is the one you fear the most...

This was written as a gift for the biggest Andy Serkis fan I know, my dear @gipsydangerzone 💕

CW: jail & forced labor, injury & blood, mention of chest binding, mention of transphobia, but Kino is an ally, unhealthy relationship, age gap (Reader is an adult), dom/sub dynamics, semi-public sex, fingering, hurt & little comfort Reader is a she with an AFAB body.

MASTERLIST

gif by Antifandor

It all started as pure necessity. Lay low, use a fake identity, switch up your gender if you have to . It was supposed to last a few days, maybe a few weeks max. Just enough time to get out of Faalri and go find your rebel base hidden in the Outer Rim. Lucky for you, cutting your hair and binding your chest was enough for you to pass as not a woman . An easy trick to confuse the troopers in charge of checking travelers identity. But it backfired spectacularly. 

You were caught in a random identity control along with another bunch of poor travelers. You lied and told you just had lost your ID holo. Little did you know, failing to provide an ID was now a punishable offense that could lead you to jail. The mockery of trial you went through was finished in a matter of minutes. It was actually a justice droïd who sentenced you to 1 year in jail - actual living judges were in short supply apparently. But the thing is that freaking tin box mistook you for a man and you thought that telling the truth at this point would just add more years to your sentence. And off you went, onto a shuttle and into a freaking jail. It all happened in a few hours. And your fear was barely catching up to the point you were just numb. 

—-

The shuttle landed on a planet covered in water, where some sort of tower of steel and concrete rose above the waterline. After a short speech and a painful demonstration of the electrified floor, you were ushered into a room alongside twenty or so other prisoners, where they asked you to remove all your clothing and put on the white and orange uniforms of the place. You don’t really know how you managed it, but you removed and put back on the clothes so fast that the guards did not notice - or at least did not bother to ask questions about the tight bandages wrapped on your torso. The prisoner next to you raised a curious brow when he caught a glimpse of your half-naked form, but you glared at him so viciously that he kept his mouth shut. 

That’s when they took you to your floor, where you were supposed to spend your sentence. As soon as you landed in the big room where dozens of other inmates were working, you were greeted by a man in his fifties. He oozed confidence and command, despite wearing the inmate uniform as well. He had salt-and-pepper slicked back hair that had no right to look this good given his current occupation, and gray-blue eyes so piercing you had the impression he was looking right into your soul.

“This is Unit 5-2-D. My name is Kino Loy, and I’m in charge here. The 49 men in this room answer to me. Name ?” He asked sternly. “Leeho” you lied, dropping your voice as much as you could. “Leeho.” he repeated slowly in his gravelly voice. You averted your gaze, afraid he might have caught the doubt in your eyes.  “Don’t look at the guard. He won’t be back.” Kino paused, finally locking eyes with you “You’re mine now.” he added. The declaration could have been cruel but was really just matter-of-factly. A shiver ran along your spine, fear and something else you did not know how to name. 

After a few hours of work, you all left the main floor to go to the cells. One of the prisoners showed you your nook, a sterile white box, fully open for all the others to see. Ironically what was truly a cage was also not locked. At least, the food and water rations were not limited, the only silver lining in the nightmare you were. You had sipped a bit of water, curled up facing the wall, and at least, after 48h of numbness, you had silently cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning, you knew you had to escape. You steeled yourself, decided to lean into the silent type persona. The work was repetitive and exhausting. Especially since you were the smallest at your table, and everything seemed to have been designed for giants. The men were often chatting amongst themselves to pass the time, trading encouragements and stories from before the jail. You dodged every question about your past, trying to speak as little as possible, and after a few days like this, it was established you were “the new weird boy”. 

—-

It’s often said the real risk is when the danger becomes routine and you let your guard down. It was true for the work, as well as for your true identity. You had gone through the first weekly disinfectant shower with no real plan other than staying behind everyone and keeping a straight face, hoping no one would actually notice. It worked so smoothly, you had smiled for the first time since arriving in this hell hole. This same day, as your shift was almost done, you were maybe a little too enthusiastic when handling the heavy screwer, and the drill bit grazed your palm, slicing the skin in its path. You watched in horror as the trail of scarlet splitting your hand started to weep red, heavy drops of blood spiraled down your wrist and into the fabric of your sleeve. The pain surged but it was really an after-though at this point. You were more terrified of what would happen now that your left hand was unusable.

You were frozen in place, as unexpected panic rushed through you, it felt like you were caught by a wave, head underwater. You vaguely remember your colleagues shouting for Kino, him taking you on the side and asking guards for a medic. The man showed up quickly, to your surprise also an inmate, and assessed the damage. He had to close the wound because it would not stop bleeding, and the sleeve of your uniform was so soaked you were starting to leave a puddle of blood on the white floor under you. That’s when you finally felt like you were able to rise above the wave of panic, the acute pain of the field cauterizer replacing the fear. The burn of the low-frequency laser had brought you to your senses, you were compelled to focus on the here and now. It was old military tech, designed so soldiers could immediately go back to fighting, you would have preferred a patch of bacta and a few days off work, but you now understood in your very flesh and blood that you were nothing but a cog in the empire’s industrial machine. The realization hurt even more than the actual burning of the cauterizer.

The medic left as quickly as he had come. The shift had actually ended during your little medical appointment, and you were alone with Kino on your way toward the sleeping quarters. But first you had to pass through the changing room because you couldn’t keep your blood-soaked uniform on. You both kept silent as you moved through the corridors but you knew you had to find a plan, and really fast because there was no way he wouldn’t notice the reality of your body and start questioning you. No matter if he thought you were lying on your gender or trans or any other possibilities, he was quite literally a collaborator to the empire, this same empire did not take kindly on queer people, and you had no idea what were Kino’s positions on the issue.

The door of the changing room opened in front of your trembling figure, and you stepped inside to reach for a clean uniform in your size. Kino beat you to it, handing you the clothes with a sigh, before turning his back. Did he know? Or was he just giving you a rare moment of somewhat-privacy? You mumbled a thank you, slipped on the fresh top and pants, and mentally prepared yourself to join your cell back. But as you were ready to cross the doorstep towards the sleeping pods, Kino gripped your arm and turned you back toward him.

“Wait.” he instructed, voice low so no one could hear him. “You need to understand something. You have to be very careful with that hand. It can’t open again. If you start bleeding, you tell no one, you come and see me. You shut your mouth, and you come straight to me. Am I clear, kid?” “I’m not a kid.” you hissed. “Listen carefully.” he started to sound angry “You take this like it’s a game, but it’s not. If you want to survive here, you need to be smart. If you think you’re fooling anyone regarding your… condition , you’re not.”

His eyes felt on your binded chest before he looked back at your face with an expression that reminded you of a stern teacher. So he knew… You felt the heat of shame, felt tears pricking your eyes, but you said nothing, jaw clenched. Kino took your absence of rebuttal for an admission of guilt. He could easily have called for a guard, and sent you to your death - or worse.

You tried to escape his hand holding your arm, but he didn't let go, his grip strengthened, and he brought you even closer from him. You braced for something violent, but instead, his demeanor shifted. He looked almost pained , like he was sorry or even scared for you.

“Hey, I’m not judging, you have your reasons and I don’t need to know them. But I won’t be able to protect you if others want to take advantage of that. Guards or inmates, it doesn’t matter. Two days ago, you were second to last, your whole table was almost fried because you were too slow. What do you think will happen next time you mess up, uh?” Kino’s face softened.  “You need to work faster, to not cause any trouble. And if you have a problem, you come see me.”

He had finally let go of your arm, and you had seen through wet lashes how he composed his face back to a blank stern mask before brushing past you and to his cell without any more word. You had trouble sleeping again that night, thinking about what he said. “ I won’t be able to protect you ” Kino actually wanted to protect you ? He had not given you away despite knowing what you hid. He told you he was ready to cover you in case of further injury. You never had seen him being mean or cruel on purpose since you were here. Maybe his little-chief persona was only superficial, because it seemed there was more to him than that. Weirdly enough, you never felt threatened by him. The whole system, sure. But not Kino. 

—-

A couple more weeks passed, and hopefully the wound on your hand healed. It left an atrocious-looking scar in the middle of your palm, but at least the pain was gone. You managed to avoid being fried or caught in your lie. You were somewhat able to sleep at night, although you were perpetually cold. The other inmates were sometimes assholes, but you managed. You knew your cell by heart, could use the tools eyes closed. One night, after another long and exhausting day, as you laid on your leathery mattress, you had realized with mind spinning horror that everything had become part of a routine. The only sliver of light in the darkness of your new existence was the constant presence of Kino. His gaze on you as you worked. His silent check-ins when he reviewed the line on the skybridge before going back to your cells. His unspoken care.

Kino’s cell was directly next to yours, and more than one time you were tempted to climb the thin wall to go find him in the middle of the night - only tempted . Until that night. Earlier in the day, he had talked to you, making sure you were alright after seeing you argue with another inmate. You had answered you could handle yourself, voice arrogant and proud. The corners of his lips had formed the faintest of smiles and it had made you weak in the knees. 

You were now in your bed, turning and tossing, unable to find sleep. His deep blue eyes and his rough voice tormenting you, the place between your legs slick with the lust you had for him. It was kinda new, this feeling. But it was definitely there and frankly it wasn’t as nonsensical as the rest of this place. It felt like something the empire could not take away from you - the last thing they could not take away from you. 

You knew it could be a huge mistake, but you went anyway. All you could hear was the rapid thump of your heart, blood pumping in your ears. You felt alive, finally, after weeks of dull despair in this sleek-white coffin of a jail. The divider between your cells was easy enough to get around without touching the electrified floor. You took care not to trigger the sensors on the floor of Kino’s cell, instead crawling on the bench seats until your face was above Kino’s. He was facing the wall, apparently unaware of your arrival although you had no idea if he was sleeping or not. You slowly reached for his shoulder but before you could touch him, he violently snatched your wrist. You had to repress a scream of surprise but Kino placed a single finger against his lips, commanding you to stay silent. You let him hoist you over and against his body, between him and the wall, so his back would shield you away from anyone’s view. 

“What are you doing here” he whispered against the shell of your ear. He did not sound alarmed, rather genuinely surprised and a bit angry. “You could have fallen in the corridor and gotten fried.” he went on when you did not answer immediately. “I was cold.” was all you could say for your defense. It was close enough of the truth. You swear you could feel a chuckle go through his massive chest glued to your back.  “You’ll need to leave before everyone wakes up” he simply added, and he wrapped his arm over your waist, pressing you against him a little tighter. 

Your senses were suddenly overpowered by him. You went through your days without any human touch, and being in his embrace was overwhelming. The warmth of his body, the muscular arm holding you, his smell, masculine, smoked wood behind the generic antiseptic. It did not help with your newfound lust. You knew the gamble you took was probably a one-time thing. No way you could sneak into his cell night after night without anyone noticing. You had to make the best of it. You literally put your life on the line to be there on his cot, you could try and push your luck a little further.

You moved a bit, gingerly pressing your ass against him. You waited for him to chastise you, to ask you to stop. He did not. You writhed in his hold until you felt him getting half hard against your lower back. His warm breath in your neck, the steelband of his arm across your chest, and now the very proof of his desire poking at your ass. Your desire burning low in your belly bleeding in the fear of getting caught. It was a lot. It was intoxicating. You were high on exhaustion and crazy with the dead-end future looming above you, you were light headed with repressed lust and drunk on the power of getting into Kino’s bed unharmed. That’s the only way you can explain what you did next.

You carefully grabbed Kino’s hand and slowly guided it lower, down the plane of your belly, and when he did not withdraw, giving his silent consent, you pushed it under the waistband of your uniform and between your legs. 

The moment he touched you, albeit lightly at first, you let out a whimper. Your reaction was immediately met with his other hand flying to press against your mouth, shushing you. Now that his palm was silencing you, he started to part your folds and you felt his long exhale against your nape when he found you already dripping. He cupped your cunt with his whole hand, the heat from his palm a shock of pleasure to your system. You had been so desperate for any form of relief that even the simple gesture was enough to send your head spinning.

With no further warning he coated the tip of his fingers in your wetness and started rubbing the bundle of nerves at the apex of your slit. He wasn’t gentle or cautious but you were too needy to care. The steady pressure of his rough skin against your clit was actually heaven. It felt so good, after weeks - months - of fear and no comfort, you could cry. 

You felt your orgasm built quickly, and so did he. The way you tensed up against him, he knew you were already close. It was risky to have this last any longer, because despite his hand firmly shut over your lips, the pathetic moans dying in your throat were still making enough noise that the other men would notice. Maybe some of them already understood what was going on. But, honestly, what could they do? Kino was of the highest rank in this room, and if he wanted to display who you belonged to, who would stop him?  

The simple yet twisted idea that the other inmates could hear you, that Kino did not care to show everyone you were his , that your body, your whole body, even the most secret parts of you belonged to him, had another wave of your slick drench his hand. He was now rock hard against your back, and you wished he would just rip down his pants and yours, and split you on his cock, fuck you into the matress until you cried, and keep going until he filled you up with his seed. It was a ridiculous fantasy because that would definitely wake up the whole dorm, and because there was no way you would risk getting pregnant in this hellhole. It was incredibly hot nonetheless. You imagined what it would feel like to be full of him, to clench on his girthy cock with each of his thrust. You yearned for his body on top of yours, to have him inside of you, to not have to repress your screams. 

Kino’s hand was still between your legs, pace unyielding. You were wet everywhere. Sweat on your back where you were stuck to Kino’s chest. Saliva on your lips under his palms, tears on your cheeks. Your own slick, catching in the short curls on your mound, down to your upper thighs. One more circle against your clit, and your whole body was trembling, on the brink of something fierce. Head buzzing, nails biting in the skin of Kino’s forearms - there would be half-moon red marks tomorrow for sure. 

You felt him groan behind you, felt it vibrate in your bones and then his voice impossibly low “Let go”. It was an order, but also a plea, like he was as keyed up as you. And it was enough to send you flying over the edge. You came harder than ever before, sobs of pleasure stuck behind your teeth, the fire of it burning through your veins. Kino holded you even closer, swallowing you whole, and kept touching you through the waves of your orgasm until you suddenly went boneless. It felt like a fever finally recessing, leaving you drained and sticky, and still slightly delirious. 

You knew you had to go back to your cell before the lights would turn on. But you were not ready yet to leave the comforting warmth of Kino’s body. He gently squeezed your arm and inhaled, ready to speak.  “I know” you whispered before he could say anything. “Just… five more minutes. Please.”

Kino said nothing. He just hugged you tighter, and you wondered if one day, in another life, on another planet, maybe, maybe you would be able to stay the night, until the light of day would wake you up and even after that.  One could dream. It was the last thing they could not take away from you.