#anyway I tried to answer this without thinking of their ship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nevadancitizen · 8 months ago

Text

-> THE BURDEN OF TOMORROW

synopsis: kamski reveals the one thing you know to be true as a lie: your humanity. connor can’t rightly sit idly by as you struggle to re-find yourself.

word count: 4.2k

ships: connor x reader, hank anderson & reader

notes: i’m skipping from fandom to fandom like i’m fucking window shopping huh. anyway connor the pinerrrr. connor the ultimate denier of feelingssssss

related reading: HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

You had been against the idea from the beginning. In your head, you traced the different ways Kamski would turn you, Hank, and Connor down – “I’m too busy to answer some stupid questions,” or “Go away, I’m trying to enjoy being a retired billionaire,” or “I’m Elijah fucking Kamski, and who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

But his android, Chloe, had welcomed all of you. And you couldn’t ignore how Kamski’s face brightened ever-so-slightly when he saw Connor. But it confused you even more when his eyes flitted to you and his expression brightened even more.

He started talking after he got out of his red-granite-lined pool, which didn’t really interest you. Your eyes turn to one of the Chloes that’s standing off to the side, her eyelids fluttering a little as she presumably scans you. When she’s done, her lips tilt upward in a smile and her head cocks to the side a little. It’s like… she knows you, or something. Like she was smiling because she saw an old friend.

Kamski’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Chloe?”

Chloe immediately walks over to Kamski, her bare feet making soft sounds against the tile, then muffled by the carpet. She sinks to her knees when he puts a hand on her shoulder and pushes slightly.

“What interests me…” Kamski moves so he’s standing next to where Chloe’s kneeling. “… is whether machines are capable of empathy.”

He moves so his back is turned on all three of you, and opens a drawer of a side table near the window. “I call it the “Kamski Test.” It’s very simple, you’ll see.”

Kamski turns with his hands raised. One of them is holding a pistol by the barrel, in a way that it would be impossible to fire. Once he’s established that he’s not a threat, he moves forward and places the grip in Connor’s hand. Connor curls his fingers around it on instinct, his index on the trigger.

“What are you doing?” You interject.

Kamski looks over at you and smiles. It’s like you’re proving something to him. What you’re proving, you don’t know.

He moves Connor’s arm so that the sights of the gun are trained on Chloe’s head. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor. Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or…”

Kamski makes a half-circle and stands beside Connor. “Spare it, if you feel it’s alive. But you’ll leave without having learnt anything from me.”

Hank scoffs and rolls his eyes, gently hitting your arm with an air of can you believe this fucking prick? “Okay, I think we’re done here. C’mon, let’s go, both of you. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

You put your hand on Hank’s arm to still him and stare at Connor. His LED flickers between yellow and red, circling in on itself quickly as he stares down at Chloe. His eyelids flutter slightly as he tries to process everything around him, calculating and sorting every possibility into neat percentages.

“Connor?” You say softly, trying to break him from his trance. “Connor, come on. This is a waste of time – you don’t need to do this. It could mess with your…” you gesture at your forehead vaguely. “… microprocessors or whatever.”

Kamski exhales slightly and smiles. He takes the pistol by the barrel, gently taking it from Connor’s hand. Connor looks at Kamski, then back down at Chloe.

“Amazing,” Kamski breathes out.

“Yeah, amazing, I care about Connor.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s go.”

Connor catches your eye and nods. “I would’ve been okay. Shooting the android wouldn’t have impacted my microprocessors or any of my other biocomponents.”

“The kid’s just worried,” Hank cuts in. “Now, c’mon. We’re leaving.”

“Wait – one last thing.” Kamski brushes past, walking to the far wall. He presses his hand to a biometric scanner on the wall, causing it to let out a sound akin to a hiss as it opens. It creases vertically, then folds back.

You let out a small sound of disbelief as you take in what Kamski revealed. Lining the walls of the hidden compartment is… information, yes, but not information about deviants. It’s information about you.

Photos of you as a child, teenager, adult, and projections of what you’d look like as you aged. Reports on how you’ve been performing as a detective. Maps of interrelationships, circles labeled with names and a web of color-coded lines connecting them.

And, on the back wall, are blueprints. You’ve seen these types of schematics before – they’re for androids.

Kamski turns and smiles when he sees your shocked face. “So it worked. You firmly believed you were human. Am I wrong, Detective?”

You feel a hand on the top of your back, and only barely register Hank shuffling you towards the exit as you stumble. “This is fucked. I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, Kamski, but we’re out.”

“N-no, Hank, wait –” You dig your heels in, never once looking away from the hidden compartment. “Wait, Kamski, what is this?”

“Just an experiment.” Kamski follows your eyes and looks inside. “A personal pet project.”

“They’re not your goddamn passion project!” Hank snaps, ushering you along with a bit more force. “Now leave the kid alone.”

“Hank, please, I want to see –” You crane your neck, still trying to look.

“This is damaging to your psyche,” Connor says, taking your arm and helping Hank herd you. “I – we need you operating at full capacity, for the sake of the case.”

“There it is, again!” Kamski laughs. “That beautiful thing, empathy.”

He walks into the room leisurely, like it’s a parlor instead of… whatever it is. “I don’t blame you for being curious. You’re a violent and irrepressible miracle, Detective.”

You struggle against Connor and Hank’s holds as you try to see more of the secret room. “Wh-what do you mean? Hank, let me see! I need to know what’s going on!”

You grab Hank’s arm with your free hand, tugging on his coat. “Hank, I promise I’ll be okay – just five minutes. All I need is five minutes! Please, let me do this. I just need to figure out what this is, then we can go. Just five minutes.”

Hank’s mouth curls into a scowl when he hears the emotion and pleading in your voice, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. His eyes fall to the floor, then flick to Connor.

“I highly advise against that,” Connor says evenly, but his worry is betrayed by the way his jaw clenches. His fingers tighten around your upper arm. “Not only will this definitely cause irreversible psychological damage, it could possibly lead to a mental break.”

“Five minutes, Connor.” You look into his eyes. “How much damage can five minutes do?”

“A lot!” Connor says. But after a moment of eye contact, his eyes soften and he relents. He lets go of your arm and takes a step back, his shoes clicking against the tile.

Hank does the same, removing his hand from your back. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Five minutes, kid. That’s all you get.”

You immediately turn on your heel and rush into the room because, knowing Connor, he’d probably set an internal timer already. You hear both Hank and Connor follow you, standing at the edge of the doorway.

You scan the room, then pick out what to look at and what to question Kamski about.

“This.” You point at a small tablet, showing a muted video of you dancing drunkenly at a crowded party. You’re wearing a hideous necktie like a headband and you get your face right in the camera as soon as you spot it. You can make out the words you’re saying – or, rather, yelling – “What’re you waiting for, man? Let’s party with Miss Page-Three all the way to Disco Ze-e-e-ero-o-o-o!”

You turn to Kamski. “What is this? Why do you have it?”

“Every person moves in a unique way,” Kamski says, shrugging slightly. “Androids already have a specific set of movements. I analyzed the way you moved – the way a human moved.”

“Moved?” You echo back. “What do you mean, moved? Don’t you mean move? Like, the present continuous verb?”

“I didn’t misspeak.” Kamski turns to a paper organizer on a desk and starts to flip through it.

You exchange a glance with Hank, then Connor. Hank is more obvious with his unease, but you can tell Connor is fretting, too. He just keeps it in his mind, still silently calculating.

Kamski pulls out a manila folder and hands it to you. You turn it over and read what’s on the front. Typed out in neat Courier New is your name, your birth date, and a random date from a few years back – Feb. 21, 2034.

You undo the clasp and dump out the documents on a nearby desk. What’s inside only causes further confusion – there’s a photocopy of a will, a death certificate, an incident report, and photos of a car crash. The death certificate is… it’s yours, but it can’t be. Can it?

You pick up one of the pictures and hold it close to your face. The car is a mangled mess of metal, lit by red and blue police lights. Peeking out from underneath the rubble, limp on the concrete, is a hand. Your hand. And it’s stained with fresh, wet blood.

“Connor.” Your voice comes out weak and strained. You can’t lift your eyes from the photo. “Connor, get over here.”

Connor’s footsteps sound, quick and almost rushed. “Yes, Detective?”

“Scan this.” Your hand shakes as you hold the photo out to Connor. “I-is this…?”

Is this real? You want to ask. Please tell me it’s not, Connor. Connor, please-please-please tell me this is some stupid joke. I’m not afraid of dying, but what if I already have?

Connor leans down a little, his eyelids and LED flickering as he scans it. His face falls as soon as his LED resumes circling normally. “It’s… yes. I found a document containing that picture, but I… I’m not permitted to access it.”

“Okay, but that’s just s-some random wreck, right?” You laugh nervously, trying to ignore the lump growing in your throat. Can androids even cry? “It – it’s not me.”

Connor reaches down and sorts through the documents. When he comes across the death certificate, he freezes. His eyelids flutter as he scans it. He looks over at you, slowly.

“No,” you whisper. “Connor, it… it can’t be real.”

“It is,” Connor says softly. “Detective, I… I’m so sorry.”

And, just like that, you’re disconnected. You’re outside of your body, stuck in the passenger seat and controlling a video game. There’s a lag to every movement you make. You recall some term you heard in a college psychology course you were required to take – disassociation. You vaguely register that this is what you’re feeling.

With more effort than it should take, you turn to look at Hank. His expression, shocked and appalled, causes the dam to burst. Your shoulders shake as you cry, hot with misplaced shame.

Connor wraps an arm around your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room and towards the exit. Hank pats his shoulder, telling him to “Get them to the car – I’ve got a few choice words I need to exchange with our friend here.”

The car ride was tense, and that atmosphere transferred into Hank’s home. He had asked on the way back if you were okay being by yourself, and you were honest and told him that no, you’re not. He had sat you down and assured you that he wasn’t mad, he didn’t feel betrayed – he just needed time to think and adjust to this new change.

He had turned in an hour ago, just a little past three in the morning. You know you couldn’t sleep if you tried. That left you and Connor in Hank’s living room.

You’re laying on the floor with Sumo, his head on your chest and drool staining your shirt. One of your arms is propped behind your head, your other hand absentmindedly combing through Sumo’s fur.

The silence is only broken by the ceiling fan clicking with every rotation and your breathing – artificial breathing, you suppose.

“Did you go into standby?” You ask softly.

“No,” Connor answers from his seat on the couch. “Would you like to talk?”

“Maybe.” You trace the pattern of Sumo’s fur, then look over at Connor. “It’s just… I don’t feel like an android. And I have lots of memories. I remember going to Chicken Feed with Hank for the first time. He got me the best goddamn burger in Detroit. I remember finding a Lucky Star bottlecap when I was a kid – the, uh… the ones from that one sarsaparilla? With the blue star on the bottom. Androids don’t have memories like that. Memories from their childhood. Memories that make them feel things.”

Connor stands from the couch, then sits by your side. He puts his hand on Sumo’s head, gently tracing the white streak that cuts through brown fur. The fan continues to click as Connor thinks for a few moments, LED swirling as he does.

“I feel things, sometimes,” he says softly. “But not like how a deviant feels. I have a built-in reward system meant to keep me motivated. But sometimes I’m rewarded even when I do something unrelated to the case.”

“Like what?” You smile up at him. “Petting Sumo?”

Connor smiles softly, glancing away, then back to you. “Yes.”

You laugh softly, your eyes staying on Connor’s face, tracing this new expression. He doesn’t smile a lot, but you’re grateful for every second that he does.

His brow creases a little, his smile disappearing. “Are you feeling alright? I want to know if you’re… I know this revelation has affected you negatively, but I just want to know of your general mental state.”

You sigh quietly, looking up and following one blade of the fan as it rotates. “I mean, I thought I had it all figured out, y’know? There’s a giant ball, and there’s evil apes. And the evil apes are just… dukin’ it out on the ball. And I’m one of them. It’s basically all just evil apes dukin’ it out on this giant ball.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “And in this scenario… what are androids?”

“Androids don’t exist in this scenario,” you say. “Androids are too perfect. Like fine porcelain china. They’re for the future. I figured this out when I was young, before androids were everywhere. When there was just a giant ball and evil apes.”

“Hm.” Connor shifts slightly, so that his thigh is just barely pressed against your side. “And what do you feel now?”

“I… I don’t know.” You sigh. “I feel… kinda guilty, I think? Because, yeah, it’s bad. This doesn’t have any upside to it. But it’s not bad for anyone else aside from me, and Hank, to a lesser degree. It’s not death, or war, or – god forbid, pedophilia. It’s just me.”

You go quiet as you watch the fan rotate. Your fingers find the tags on Sumo’s collar, the tag with his name and Hank’s address and number clinking against his rabies vaccination tag.

“Humans are complicated,” Connor eventually says.

You snort. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I…” he sighs. “I know you didn’t mean to deceive me. But I can’t believe I didn’t know – or at least have an inkling.”

“Shit, I deceived myself.” You laugh humorlessly. “You’re okay, Connor. You don’t need to change to accommodate me.”

“Adaptability to unpredictable human behavior is one of my core features,” he says.

“Am I really unpredictable?” You ask. Your eyebrows furrow as you fidget with Sumo’s tags. “Or, actually – am I really even human?”

Connor’s LED flashes yellow as he looks down at you, his eyelids fluttering as he scans you. He blinks a few times and his LED returns to a calm blue.

“You’ve fooled my sensors,” Connor says. “And, if I may…”

His hand hovers over yours, which is still fidgeting with Sumo’s tags. You nod as you feel your heart skip a beat. He grabs your hand and lifts it to his solar plexus, right in the middle of his chest.

“Do you feel that?” Connor asks. “It’s my thirium pump. Biocomponent #8456w.”

Sure enough, you feel a soft thrumming beneath your fingers. It’s not quite like a heartbeat, but a steady hum that fluctuates. Strong, then a steady decline to weak, then back to its strongest.

You nod again, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Connor moves your hand so that it’s resting on your own chest, right over your heart. You don’t really make an effort to check your heartbeat but, just like the last time you remember checking, there’s a steady beat.

“You have a heart,” he says.

“An artificial one,” you chime.

“Yes,” Connor relents. “But it proves that you’re not like me. Not a full android.”

“For all I know, Kamski cobbled me together in his creepy basement,” you try to joke. “Do you think he has one? Or is he too rich?”

“Detroit is located alongside a river,” Connor says. “The soil contains too much water for basement construction to be feasible.”

You roll your head a little, looking up at him. “You’re too literal. Don’t you have a humor microchip or something?”

Connor smiles slightly. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Yes, you do!” You laugh and turn your hand over, grabbing his and shaking it gently. “You’re smiling. And you made a joke. A kind-of joke.”

Connor’s smile falters when he looks down at your connected hands. It’s not like you’ve laced fingers with him or anything, but it was still kind of intimate.

You clear your throat and let his hand go, instead carding your fingers through Sumo’s fur again. You can feel a blush creeping across your face. Once more, the room is only filled with the clicking of the fan with every rotation and your breathing.

“I don’t know what to do,” you eventually sigh out. “I wish I could just wake up and start the day over. But then I open my eyes and the time has still passed and I’m still here. I still have to go through… whatever this is.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone,” Connor says. “Hank would never abandon you, and…” His LED flickers yellow. “Neither would I.”

“You’re weird,” you say softly. “You’re weird for that.”

Connor nods, slowly. “Maybe. But you’re vital to this case, whether you believe it or not.”

“I do,” you say. “Kinda. I just need time. I can see the end, which is whole acceptance, or just not caring. I mean, all the pieces aren’t here, I still need to find them, but still. I get all the pieces, somehow, something else, walla-walla-bing-bang – my android-ness doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Walla-walla-bing-bang?” Connor echoes, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“I don’t know what it means.” Your eyes flicker to his and you smile at his confusion. “I think I heard it somewhere once. It just felt like the most appropriate thing to say.”

Connor’s face softens and he mirrors your smile. “That does seem like an appropriate thing to say, yes.”

You keep looking up at him for a moment, just looking into his brown doe eyes. You swallow thickly as your thoughts race. There’s a sudden lump in your throat that you try your best to ignore and clear away.

“Connor, I…” You reach for his hand. He meets you halfway, gently holding your hand and resting his thumb on your knuckles.

“Am I a deviant?”

Are you going to turn me in? You want to ask. Please don’t. Please, Connor. I need you to trust me, just like you’ve trusted me before. I’ll be vigilant. I’ll figure this out. I promise. Please.

“No.” There’s no hesitation or doubt in his voice. “As far as I’ve figured out, you’re designed to act like a human. You’re meant to fool others into thinking you’re really human – because that’s what you were, before. Deviants are androids with mutations in their code. Your code is meant to mimic human emotions and rationale. So you’re just following your instructions.”

“Instructions.” You look down at your joined hands. You shake them a little as your lips draw into a thin line. “That’s what we both come down to, right? Instructions.”

“You…” Connor thinks for a moment. “Yes. But the instructions in you are nuanced, and sometimes contradictory. I’m not calling your code faulty – in fact, it rather reflects human behavior to a tee.”

“So I’m… at least a little human.” You close your eyes, resting your head on your arm that’s propped behind your head. “Human enough.”

“Human enough?” Connor echoes.

“Yeah. My lungs burn when I hold my breath too long. It hurts when I stub my toe and I feel electric when I hit my funny bone. I cry and my tears taste salty instead of tasting like… I don’t know, cleaning fluid.” You open your eyes and look up at Connor, as if asking him to confirm.

“Androids do have optic cleaning fluids, yes,” he says.

You smile and laugh lightly, your gaze returning to the fan blade. “Optic fuckin’ cleaning fluids…”

You sigh softly. “God, Hank was right. This is fucked. An android investigating androids and some… cheap copy of whoever I used to be. And, of course, a Lieutenant who’s slowly killing himself day-by-day.”

“You’re not a cheap copy,” he says. “Typical CyberLife androids cost nine thousand dollars, but custom models could cost more. Personally, my development and production costs total to just over four million, and every new RK800 model costs eight thousand.”

Connor soothes his thumb over your knuckles. “You must’ve cost Kamski a fortune.”

His words immediately go to your heart like you’ve been pierced by a scorpion’s tail. But instead of venom, it’s an injection of sweet feelings and erratic butterflies. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that his whispered words and damn-near reverent tone was intentional.

“That’s… that sounds kinda romantic,” you say, then remember yourself. “I – I mean, romantic as in, like, the Romantic era? Like, it’s a romantic idea. That Kamski loves his work so much that he couldn’t bear to stop and continued to push the envelope… even if he pushed it a bit too far, with an android replacing a real-life, actually-dead human and whatnot.”

Connor’s LED blinks as he thinks. He stays silent for a while, just looking down at his hand that’s holding yours and thinking.

“You’re starting to act like me, y’know?” You squeeze his hand. “A synthetic human instead of a true android.”

His LED stops flickering and he meets your eyes. “I am not a deviant. I have a rigorous self-testing system to make sure any signs of deviancy don’t go undetected.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent. You glance down to your conjoined hands, then back up into those doe eyes.

“Did you mean it?” You ask softly. “Earlier. When you said that you’d stay.”

“Of course,” Connor answers quickly.

“Really?” Your eyebrows crease. “Because it’ll take years. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. I’ll be worse than Hank. I don’t expect you to reward me or to applaud my every move, because I know that’s how normal people are all the time.”

“But you’re not normal,” Connor says with a smile. “Even before your entire identity was uprooted.”

“Connor!” You laugh and let go of his hand to swat at him, then grasp his hand again. “Alright, alright. I’ll get a bit of the Normal in me. A touch of the Regular. Exactly four grams of Johnny Normalcop.”

“Don’t.” He squeezes your hand. “It would be detrimental to the case if you were to focus on restructuring yourself in a different way. You don’t need to sanitize your personality.”

You smile up at Connor. “So you like me.”

His LED flickers yellow, then returns to blue. “Yes. I enjoy working alongside you as you are. You don’t need to be any amount of Johnny Normalcop.”

You shake your joined hands gently, your smile growing so wide you’re sure you looked a bit stupid. “You’re sweet. You know that?”

“I am somewhat aware.” Connor brings his free hand up to rest on top of your connected hands.

And, just like that, you know everything would be alright. Nothing would ever be the same, yes, but it would be alright. It won’t be easy, but you just need to move on. Uncertainty is a core tenet of detective work.

When life closes a door, it opens a window. And if the fall is too steep, use the fire exit. Run to the roof, because Connor will be there when you jump to break your fall. The most important thing is to keep moving. Keep dreaming. CyberLife can’t reclaim their lost property if you keep running – very, very fast, from one Earth-shattering revelation to the next.

#riptide writes 🌊#dbh connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #rk800 x reader #connor x reader #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #connor rk800 #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #dbh connor x you #connor rk800 x you #rk800 x you #connor x you #dbh x you #detroit become human x you

682 notes · View notes

lay-z · 2 months ago

Text

tw: self-shipping; emotional boner; premature ejaculation, mild degradation

Johnny gets hard when I listen to him.

As in, paying attention. Listening to his stories, his ramblings, his opinions, his problems. I never once tell him to shut up, he simply notices himself when he's been talking non-stop for more than an hour. I sigh, my eyes start drifting around the room. I'm like a dog making whale eyes and yawning, a cat flicking her tail, flattening her ears.

And then he gives me space until I invite him to continue; asking a question, for a followup, and he obliges happily.

We're just friends at this point, but he stopped having meaningless hookups a while ago. He won't admit it, but he couldn't get hard for the woman the last time he tried having meaningless sex. It shook him to his very core.

He even went to the dick doctor on base, but his dick is fine, which makes it even worse.

And then, one evening, as I'm cooking dinner for us, because he invited himself over again, his chatty voice fizzles out after talking non-stop, no period nor comma, and I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with him, show him that I'm still listening with a social cue.

But Johnny sits at the kitchen table, tattooed forearms resting on the top, spine rigid, breathing shallowly. He's staring at the wall as if seeing a ghost.

"You okay?" I ask, lowering the temperature on the stove to let the pasta sauce cook slowly.

"Mhm, 'course," he answers curtly, and he squirms on the chair, wood creaking under his weight.

I glance down, following the movement of his thick thighs in his jeans as he squeezes them together. My eyebrows draw together, crease now between them, an invisible question mark appearing above my head.

"The hell are you doing? Go pee if you have to. Dinner's not ready yet, anyway." I let out a laugh, because it sounds so stupid. He's a grown ass man. A spec ops soldier.

He lets out a half-snort/half-scoff at that.

"Dinnae 'ave ta take a piss," he retorts, all little too snappishly for my liking, and I almost feel like starting an argument just for shits and giggles.

"Then why did you stop talking? That's a fucking first." I taunt, dropping the wooden spoon on the counter before walking over to him, pushing at his shoulder with my fingertips.

He hisses and grits his teeth, looking like he's in pain. My attitude drops, and my expression softens. Perhaps he's having some sort of silent panic attack?

"Hey "

As I rest my palm on his back, rubbing the taut muscle mass in wide, soothing circles, he shudders and lets out a choked moan. A sound that has my whole being freeze, my hand stilling on his back.

"Keep going, keep going, keep go "

His head tips back, lips parted with a soft groan, and our eyes meet over his shoulder. His bright blue, unnecessarily pretty eyes look hazy, his pupils blown. As I peer down at his crotch, I notice the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. I always had a hunch that he's big.

No man, this cocky and capable, has a small dick.

"Are you a little excited there, Johnny?" I coo at him, palm rubbing over his back again as I lift my other hand to rest on his left shoulder, massaging lightly.

He has the audacity to nod and let out another throaty groan before swallowing audibly.

"Can you come without touching your cock?"

He nods again, his eyelids flutter, and cheeks begin to blush furiously. I've never seen that look on him before, but I enjoy it tremendously.

"Of course, you can, you fucking pervert."

Johnny huffs in what sounds like agitation, but his blush only deepens in colour and I can practically watch his cock twitch and drool in his pants.

I reach up to tug on his short Mohawk, enough to pull his head back further, and he lets out a high-pitched groan before squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Pretend ye didnae hear tha' ah," he pleads, hands balling into fists on the tabletop as I give his short hair another firm tug.

"Aw, I think I won't," I reply, leaning forward to murmur against his temple, lips pressing against his burning skin, "Actually, I think... I'll make sure that sound you made is burned into my brain, so I can use it for later, Johnny. For when I'm playing with my pretty wet pussy all by myself."

"Oh, fuck !" His thighs jerk, knees bumping and rattling the table as he lifts his hips, humping the air with a pathetic cry of pleasure.

I watch the dark stain on his blue jeans become bigger while slumps down in the chair, and I keep rubbing his shoulders while he catches his ragged breath.

Muzzled at last.

I give his back a few gentle pats, pretending I'm fine, even though my heart is racing and my mind along with it. I just made him cum in his pants. Hands-free.

"Wanna talk about it, champ?" I croon, glancing at him over my shoulder as I walk back over to the stove, tending to dinner.

He lifts his hand to flip me off.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #self shipping #romantic f/o #cod #soap #personal #johnny is a perverted dog but so am i #friends to lovers

160 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 3 months ago

Text

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 22: Jealous sex

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) jealous!possessive!Din, degradation (Din calls reader a whore), fingering, dirty talk, lowkey a lot of fluff, if I missed anything please let me know!

In the Cantina, he seemed tense. If you could even call it that.

Really, was there ever a waking moment where Din didn’t look at least a little robotic beneath his armor? Holding himself up with rigid muscles to support the way he already towered over contacts and passersby?

Greef didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Most of his focus was on you, anyway.

“Always happy to have you around for a visit, little lady.” He’d said, the warm smile he always wore shining a little brighter when he’d seen you accompanying Din.

You tried to tune out their conversation. Per usual, it didn’t pertain to you—not in the way it did to Din, anyway; you’d know dates and times, but you didn’t much care to know whether a bounty would be brought in cold or not.

All that mattered to you was what system you’d be in and how long Din would be gone, and when that part of the conversation ended, so, too, did your interest.

But Karga always kept it interesting. Trying to include you, trying to include the kid; he cooed over the baby’s cradle, buying you a drink and offering to “buy Mando one just so you can have a little extra for coming all this way for business.”

Din’s hand never left your thigh, perched just under the hem of your dress.

And it didn’t really come off as anything out of the ordinary; on the contrary, it was one of the few subtle gestures of affection he allowed himself when outside the comfort of the ship.

But when you laughed at Greef’s jokes, Din’s fingers tightened; when you leaned in to listen to the hushed words Greef spoke over the table, Din’s hand moved upwards beneath the hem of your dress.

And that was new.

When you’d offered Greef a pat on the back that turned into a friendly hug goodbye as you prepared to leave, Din grunted out a low “Alright.”

And that was new, too.

When you began the trek back to the Crest, he was typically silent. There was no mention of what had happened at the cantina on Din’s part, and you followed suit, unsure if it was even worthy of bringing up.

He was certainly walking faster, though, as if the weight of the beskar suddenly disappeared. He seemed eager to get to the ship—which was understandable, meetings with Greef were always somewhat bleak, even when they were friendly.

After a drawn-out walk riddled with silence, the Crest was a welcome respite to your uncertainty.

You put the kid to bed, closing the top of his bassinet and letting it float idly in the kitchenette. You stood in your room, internally debating whether or not you wanted to find Din, wherever he had tucked himself away, or if you should give into the urge to fall asleep.

Your questions were answered when he walked in behind you, door closing after him.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” It was sudden and terse, spoken like a true Mandalorian.

“Who?” You turned yourself to look up at him, furrowing your brow and pairing it with a soft smile. “Greef?”

Silence. Then; “It’s unprofessional.”

“It’s unprofessional to bring your partner to a business meeting.” You countered with a smirk.

“It isn’t funny,” Din wasn’t going to let this go. “I think it’s…negligent.”

“On your part or his?” You continued to make light of his comments. “Din—it’s just Greef.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“Only one I’ve noticed,” you sighed, “And he’s old, Din, he’s being nice.”

“I’m old, cyare,” Din took a step forward and you smiled. “And I’ve noticed. Can’t go anywhere without people trying to break their neck to get a good look at you.”

“He’s older than you,” you clarified, “And they’re staring at the kid and his funny ears. Even if they were looking at me—I don’t care.”

Din huffed beneath his helmet, and you could only imagine that he was rolling his eyes, frustrated by your lack of regard to his worry.

“Din…” now you took a step closer to him, “Are you jealous of the attention I get?” Your lip curled into a coy smile, pressing a hand to his armor-clad chest.

“No,” he let you touch him, “Irritated that people try to make a display of what’s mine.” He placed his hand over yours where it sat on his chest.

“Then do something about it.” You looked at his gloved hand engulfing your own.

There was another pause, longer this time, and it made you shift on your feet in anticipation. But Din didn’t keep you waiting, grabbing you by the waist and maneuvering you onto your back on the cot. Your legs hung over the edge, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look of him where he stood before you.

“Do something about it?” He asked, but not for an answer. “Do you need a reminder, mesh’la?”

“A reminder of what?” You played dumb.

“Need me to remind you whose you are?” He leaned forward, pushing your legs open with his knee and slotting his thigh between your legs. “Who you belong to…”

“I could—I could use a memory aid.” Your breath hitched when he pressed his thigh firmly against your clothed cunt.

Din’s head tilted down to look at you. “Figured.”

He finally put his hands on you after what felt like forever; undoing the buttons that lined the front of your dress with haste, rather than ease. He fumbled over some of them, opting to stop when he’d exposed your chest.

“Just—” he took a step back, hands finding your thighs and pulling. “Lift your hips.”

You obliged, moving your hips to give him the space to hike up your dress and strip you of your underwear. He threw it onto the bed, not focused on where it would land, without removing his gaze from you.

“What do you want? My mouth? Huh?” He reached under the hem of your half-buttoned dress and pressed his hand onto your stomach, just above where you needed him. “Tell me. Tell me so I can remind you how good I make you feel.”

“Anything,” you mumbled up at him. “You can do anything.” You rested your hand on top of his over your rumpled dress.

“You’re a whore,” he huffed a quick laugh. His hand slipped from under your dress, moving to join his other in removing his helmet. “You’re a greedy whore.” Unmodulated, the words still packed no bite—he was jealous, yes, but he didn’t mean what he said; he just knew they’d turn you into putty in his hands and get you to say what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your whore.” You smiled when the weight of the helmet fell onto the cot, gazing at him in admiration and lust. His eyes were just as blown out as yours, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead.

Din, in all his glory. Riled up and needy and yours.

He didn’t grace you with a response, kneeling in front of you and bringing his face to your cunt. His hands pushed against the skin of your inner thighs, encouraging you to keep your legs open for him as he licked a stripe up your slit.

“Would you let them taste you?” He mumbled, his tongue reaching your clit and flicking at it gently.

You whimpered a response. It wasn’t as if Din never went down on you—in fact, when he’d first taken his helmet off in front of you, it’s all he wanted to do for about a week—but in this state, the way he teased and the need in his words made you feel a hot ache in your core.

“Would you?” He pushed, moving his hand to graze gloved fingers over your cunt.

“No!” You gasped when he pushed a finger inside of you; the leather of his glove was warm and struggled against your walls, even dripping as you were.

But your gratification of being filled countered any discomfort, and a brief glance down at Din proved that he was just as entranced by the look as you were by the feeling.

“Only me,” he looked up at you through lidded eyes, lips parted to allow the words to come out in a gruff whisper. “Tell me.”

“Only you, Din,” you reached for him, trying to find his free hand to ground you to him. He allowed you to grab at his fingers, lacing them with yours. “I only ever want you.”

“Yes,” he breathed, clearly satisfied. Part of him, though, still wanted more, and he pushed another finger into you to watch your back arch. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you reassured, “I’m yours. Always.”

He growled then, no longer interested in drawing this out and staking his claim—he knew his jealousy was unwarranted, knew that you would always be his and he, in turn, would always be yours.

He just disliked the idea of anybody looking at you with malintent; hated the voice that crept into his head that perhaps someday it would be someone that could give you more, and that you’d see him for the washout he thought he was.

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You were his, always.

You said as much.

He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue over the swollen bud as he increased the pressure of the suction, curling his fingers into you.

You hooked a knee behind him, overwhelmed by the pleasure but still bent on feeling more of him. He grunted, increasing the pace at which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, and your back arched off the cot in excitement.

“Cum,” he was practically begging, so eager to feel you clench his fingers and shake for him. “Cum for me. Show me you’re mine, cyar’ika.”

He pressed the pads of his fingers up and into the spongy spot he knew so well, watching you come undone for him.

“Din it’s—I—yes, yes…!” Your moans were breathy and barely coherent, focused only on the pleasure he provided. Your legs spasmed around him, walls squeezing his fingers, and he continued to lap at you through your high.

You tugged on his hair, overstimulated and exhausted. He took the hint, rising to sit on the edge of the bed and look over you.

“Would you let them make you cum like that?” He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of your chest, licking over your nipple.

You shivered, cupping the back of his head.

“Couldn’t let them,” you sighed happily, “Nobody but you could ever make me cum like that.”

That earned you a soft growl, and he removed himself from your chest to kiss your jaw, stubble tickling your skin.

“That’s right.” He breathed against you, leaning back to lie down next to you sideways in the cot.

“Never have to worry,” you curled into him, “I’m yours, Din. There’s nobody else but you. There never will be.”

“I know, cyare,” he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you into him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m yours.”

#kinktober 2024 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

318 notes · View notes

penkura · 6 months ago

Text

last forever [13/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed without realizing how happy you would both become and the family you would create together.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and having a baby, that's all

Note: I didn't initially plan this. I was going to stop this fic at twelve chapters, but I felt like ch.12 was getting to be way too long so I broke it up and put the epilogue at the end of thsi one. Do not be surprised if I ever come back to this fanfic universe for one-shots or drabbles. This is shorter than I expected, but I'm happy with how it turned out, thanks for reading this fanfic, I hope you've all enjoyed it! :)

The latter bit is set ten years after chapter 12, Zoro is 31 and Reader is 30.

Taglist:

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8] ● [Ch. 9] ● [Ch. 10] ● [Ch. 11] ● [Ch. 12]

Your morning is quiet, despite Nami and Robin sharing knowing looks when you and Zoro entered the galley together for breakfast. Nami swears you're glowing and it grosses her out for a moment when she makes the suggestion to Robin who laughs, and says the three of you will need to have a girls night later to talk. No one asked where two had disappeared to the night before, it seemed like none of them had noticed, which you were grateful for. It kept you and Zoro from having to answer any awkward questions for the time being.

Zoro didn't notice or care, if someone had asked he would've told them, but still keep you from feeling embarrassed or anything, this is all still new to both of you of course. Breakfast goes by without anyone bringing anything up, even as Sanji gives you a smile that you return, discreetly showing him your ring and confirming that he was right, everything turned out okay so far.

Most of your day is spent doing the normal things you’ve always done, the Sunny is docked at an island for a restock, you choose to go into town with Robin and Jinbei, Zoro tried to go along but Nami pulls him back, telling you to go ahead while she takes your husband for help with other things. You don’t question it only because that’s completely normal, you don’t even question Robin in town when she tries to convince you to buy a pretty white dress you seem to be staring at. You try it on but don’t buy it, there’s no reason to.

“Are you sure, [Y/N]? It’d look lovely on you, I’m sure Zoro would think so too.”

“Nah, I don’t need it,” you laugh a bit as you go to look at something else that’s caught your eye, “Zoro doesn’t care what I wear anyway.”

“Mm…if you say so.”

You swear there’s something Robin isn’t telling you, even as you both try of different clothes and buy a few items, deciding you’ll bring Nami by later too, there’s plenty here she’ll like.

You do find it odd when Jinbei tries to get you to purchase a flower crown or a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for yourself, denying again that you really don’t need them. You’re not sure if you were imagining it or not, but you think the two share a knowing look with slight smiles as you head back to Sunny a while later.

When you make it back and see almost none of your crewmates around, you start to get suspicious something else is going on, especially seeing the way the ship deck is decorated to almost resemble a wedding, though with its own Straw Hat character, and Zoro waiting for you.

Face red, in a suit (that fits this time), and a bouquet of your favorite flower surrounded by daisies, heliotrope, and aster.

It dons on you immediately what Jinbei and Robin were doing, they were trying to get you ready for an impromptu marriage ceremony, but you didn’t catch on until now, you feel kind of stupid. Of course the white dress and small bouquet make sense now, even though Zoro hasn’t said anything. He doesn’t even notice you’re there at first, not until you say his name and he finally looks at you.

“Hey…you’re back.”

“What,” You’re trying hard not to cry but you can’t fight the smile that’s starting to creep onto your face as Zoro hands the flowers over to you, still nervous about this and maybe embarrassed over it, “What’s this about…?”

He’s quite for a moment, while you look over the flowers, a bright and happy look on your face. You know he’s had help with this, it’s what he and Nami were probably out buying while the others set things up.

“When we got married, legally, it wasn’t really a wedding,” scratching the back of his head, Zoro sighs just a bit before taking your hand and getting on one knee in front of you, returning the smile you’re giving him, “I know I was a stubborn ass about this for a long time, but you already know my thoughts on this, on us now…so I want to give you as real a wedding as I can. One you deserve.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing when it takes Zoro a minute to dig through the pockets he’s not used to find an engagement ring, one you don’t need but you figure Nami made him buy it just so you had one, even with your wedding band already on your hand.

“We’ve already got rings, and this time real witnesses,” you both can hear Luffy not so quietly asking Sanji for food before he's hushed and told to wait, everyone watching from the various places they’re hiding in, “Luffy’s ready to say whatever he needs to for us to be considered married on this crew, but I still have to ask you. So…will you marry me, for real this time, [Y/N]?”

“Of course, Zoro!” It’s not even something you can pretend to think about, not after everything you’ve gone through now. You throw your arms around him and Zoro hugs you close, there’s obvious relief like he was worried you’d changed your mind overnight while he tells you he loves you.

“Heyyy, can we do the ceremony now and eat?!”

“You idiot, she’s got to get dressed first!”

“Sanji made a great cake, it’s really sweet!”

“We were all glad when you went into town with Robin and Jinbei, we probably wouldn’t have gotten this all done if you hadn’t!”

“This is super great for both of you!”

“Yohohoho, I’ll get ready to play the wedding march then!”

“Mosshead, you better treat her right!”

“It’s wonderful to see you both happy now!”

“I may not have the full details of your circumstances, but congratulations to you both!”

You barely listen to your crewmates, your main focus being on Zoro and how this was pulled off so quickly, but you don’t bother to ask any questions, kissing your husband briefly.

“I suppose I should go get ready!”

“Yeah,” Zoro gives you a slight smirk before kissing your forehead, “I’ll be here, wife.”

Robin and Nami rush you off to your shared room to get you dressed, Robin having been sneaky and showing she’d purchased the dress she told you to buy, along with a small bouquet of flowers for you to carry. It’s nothing fancy, but that works perfectly with your relationship and how you’ve come together with Zoro.

Once they’ve got you ready the two go back to the deck to make sure everything and everyone is situated, sending Sanji after you a bit later, he’s agreed to be the one to give you away essentially, though you stop him just ad you’re about to head to the deck, he gives you a concerned look.

“Sanji, do you…do you think Zoro and I will last forever?”

Sanji takes a breath, before smiling and taking your hand as he lets it out.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a couple more destined to last than you two. Besides, I don’t think the mosshead is willing to wear a suit for just anybody.”

You laugh and agree, telling Sanji you’re ready before he leads you out to the deck.

It’s not a very long or formal ceremony, Luffy stumbles a few times trying to remember what he needs to say, he even gets choked up a few times when he thinks about how he’s seen you and Zoro go from a marriage born of convenience to now being in love and properly married. It almost gets to you as well, but you keep all your tears back, just a few slipping g out when Luffy tells Zoro to hurry up and kiss you which makes you laugh. You know Zoro hates public displays of affection, but he’s willing to look past it for you, only you he’d justify. After that Luffy shouts for the party to start, you and Zoro laughing together just a bit while he holds you close.

“Thanks for not giving up on me, wife.”

“Hmm, thanks for saving me, husband.”

Chopper is right, the cake Sanji made is sweet, you’re surprised Zoro even has some, that he mostly stays away from alcohol except when you bring him a drink later on. It prompts him to pull you to his lap, pressing a kiss to your cheek to make you giggle.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing,” he sighs a bit, holding you closer and laying his forehead on your shoulder, “Just glad you’re my wife is all.”

“Forever, right?”

“Forever. No matter what happens.”

Nami and Sanji watch you two from the side, giving each other looks that tell more than anything they know you’ll make it. They’ve both watched you ever since they each joined, seen how Zoro treats you and how much you’ve come to love each other. Even when Luffy comes over and drags you away from your real, permanent husband to dance with your captain, the same look Sanji swore to you he’s always seen on Zoro’s face. Soft and loving, he just watches you while you and Luffy giggle together.

When everyone starts to settle down, you’re surprised by Chisa returning to you after being gone since you arrived in Wano. She stops in front of you with two letters, one you know is from Elias and the other from your parents, finally. You’re not sure what to think, even when Zoro wraps his arms around you and sets his chin on your shoulder.

“Well?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug, before tearing up the letter still in the envelope causing Zoro roll tighten his hold on you. For a minute you don’t say anything, before you sigh and lean back against him with a smile.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want care about what they have to say…I only care about you.”

“Hmm,” Zoro kisses tour cheek which makes you giggle before you do the same to him, “That’s my wife, I’m proud of you.”

“Love you, Zoro.”

“Yeah…I love you too.”

You two are going to last forever.

+!+

~10 years later~

You have a newborn baby girl to care for now, literally minutes old as she lays next to you and cries, unhappy about her new surroundings. It’s the middle of winter and the only people you’re allowing around her at the moment are the midwives of Shimotsuki Village that had come to help you deliver your baby in the middle of the day. Every one of them praises you for doing so well, but all you care about is your daughter and Zoro getting to see her, to meet her face to face. He’d been more anxious about it as you got closer to your due date, neither of you knowing if you’d have a boy or girl until the moment you gave birth, and now you have her!

She’s perfectly chubby, her little hands trying to grasp at the air while she wails and kicks her feet at the same time, even as you take hold of one of her hands. You want to laugh seeing her hair is just a slightly darker shade of green than Zoro’s, but smile instead as you calm her down.

“Shh, shh, baby girl, everything’s okay. I’m here, sweetheart. Your daddy’s on his way.”

It’s not even five minutes later you hear Nami yelling outside your door about how someone could miss this, while Sanji starts to swoon at her for being so protective of you but asking her to calm down, stress isn’t good for her or their own baby either. You hear Luffy laugh a bit himself, saying something you can’t understand before Usopp and Robin suggest they all leave you alone, as the door to your room opens and you’re so glad to see who’s finally there.

“Zoro~”

“I’m sorry I missed it, I was asking master something,” Zoro takes your hand you reached for him with, kissing your forehead before he sits beside you, looking at your baby with nothing but pride and love on his face, “We…we have a baby…”

“We have a daughter, Zoro.”

“She’s perfect. Just like her mama.”

Rolling your eyes, you just watch for a few minutes while Zoro takes in the fact you have a daughter to raise now. Honestly, you had been expecting to have a boy, and Zoro never told you what he thought you might have, he said it didn’t matter because it was your child, you made this baby together, he’d love them no matter what. But seeing him gently stroke her hair and let her hold onto his finger, you swear you’re falling in love with him all over again.

“Did you ask your master what we talked about?”

Zoro doesn’t hear you at first, he’s too focused on your daughter and watching her settle down, starting to sleep, before he realizes you spoke to him and asks you to repeat your question. When you do so, he nods, looking back to your daughter.

“Well?”

“He said nothing would make him happier…”

Nodding, you sigh in content when Zoro kisses your forehead again, before doing the same to your daughter.

“Welcome to the world, Kuina.”

You plan to give your daughter everything you never had and more, all the love in the world and no expectations to marry rich unless she decides to. Watching Zoro with her the rest of the day makes you realize this was all you ever wanted.

To love someone and be loved the same, and give that love to your own child forever.

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #roronoa zoro x reader

309 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 & 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: swearing, nsfw included (no one under 18 please).

a/n: ghoap is my favourite ship but I always want to be involved so this is fanservice and ... self insert. Anyway, enjoy!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

God there is so much I want to say!!! I want to read more ghoap x reader. It's so funnnnn. Anyway, please enjoy - if you have any suggestions or prompts I would be more than happy to answer them <3

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You were in a relationship with Johnny long before Simon entered the picture

・Johnny had made you absolutely swoon for months, but you were too hesitant to do anything about it. Your insecurities held you back.

・How could someone as gorgeous as this man, nay, god, even look your way.

・But he was looking your way, and crushing so bad that you were all he could think about.

・You found a lot of solace in each other, swapping phone numbers and texting constantly. Johnny's first message was: "heyy bonnie, how'd ye day go? ❤️"

・It took you nearly an hour to reply because all your brain could do was short circuit

・But over the years you became friends, then lovers, moving in together. All while he was still going on missions.

・He took you to meet his family after 3 months of proper dating, and he was so proud to show you off.

"Aye this is she!," he said (yelled) presenting you to his large family. (They didn't believe you existed).

・Your relationship with Johnny has always been based on honesty and humour. You know you can rely on him for anything, even if he can be a bit fookin' cheeky.

・Johnny had told you about his teammates (once he realised you were the person for him).

・And you quickly noticed the way he would speak different about his Lieutenant. Simon Riley.

・A crush...

・You had no issue with it. Crushes were normal, and you knew Johnny was faithful. You also knew Johnny was much to apprehensive to do anything with Simon.

・But one day, when you were picking Johnny up on the tarmac, after a grueling 3 months away. Simon watched as you ran into Johnny's arms. Kept watching as he spun you around, buring his face in your neck.

"Johnny..." you whimpered, pressing soft kisses all over his face.

"Aye, it's me bonnie. Couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

・Tears were in both of your eyes and Simon had to close his own. Swallowing a lump down his throat.

・After you and Johnny had left, Simon stayed in his car for upto 2 hours. Staring out the frontshield window. Confused as fuck.

・How could he fall in love with a person he'd never spoken to? In his deeper, most inner self, he knew he loved Johnny too.

・And when he arrived 'home,' he shucked off his clothes and stayed in the shower. Sitting, letting the water mix with his tears. He would give anything. Anything, to be with you both. But he knew that was ridiculous.

・Surprise. It wasn't ridiculous.

・When you got home, instantly you brought up Johnny's superior.

"Eh, wha' about him, bonnie?" Johnny asked suspiciously, opening the fridge door.

"He likes you."

All you got in response was an eye roll.

"Johnny," there was something in your voice which made him look at you.

"As a ... teammate. As a friend, aye. Yes. Not as anything more."

"I like him too," you cooed. Walking over to the blue-eyed Scotsman.

・He smirked, grabbed your waist and pulled you close, "don't go pryin'."

・You went prying.

・But didn't have to go too far, because Simon was never too far away.

・You bumped into him many times, both with and without Johnny.

・It all came to a head, when your car stopped working and you needed a ride home.

・Simon was more than happy to help.

・Johnny nearly fainted when he opened the door. His partner and his teammate stood in the doorway, a cheeky - almost sheepish smile on yours.

・No matter how hard Simon tried to leave, you made him stay ... and stay he did. You made his tea perfect on the first try.

・Always a dog pile when it's time to go to bed. Arms and legs are splayed over whoever. You might start in the middle but by the morning you're completely on top of Simon while Johnny uses your bum as a pillow

・It took 6 months for Simon to move in. And he brought Riley with him as well. Your cats weren't too happy about that ...

・It's a silent agreement that no one uses the boys' call signs. It's always their real names or pet names.

・Simon and Johnny like to keep their work away from their home life as much as possible.

・On deployment, Johnny and Simon have both agreed that home with you is their solace. You are their person.

・And speaking of being on the same task force; you made Johnny and Simon sit down (with their favourite beverages) to talk it out. Sometimes they wanted you there, other times you knew they needed to be alone.

・But encouraging communication made both men a lot less scared to express their feelings. Even if you could be quite ... aggressive.

"Look, Johnny...it's uh, hard to say... but-"

"No, no, I ken what ye mean-"

"Ah! Let him say it Johnny!" You yelled from another room.

Johnny sighed, blushed and sat straighter in his chair.

"Uh. Yeah well," Simon started to sweat. This was worse than an interrogation.

But before Simon could finish, Johnny just bellowed out in a very gruff Scottish accent, "I love ye Simon Riley!"

And Simon never thought he would feel as elated as he did in that moment.

Until you rounded the corner, sat on Johnny's lap and blushed. "We, love you Simon Riley."

・And you pushed a black box over to him.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Would Die For One Other

You (And Johnny) Fell First, But Simon Fell Harder

"Hey can I have a…" (You) x "Yes. Whatever it is. Yes." (Johnny)

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (You) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (Simon)

The Moon (Simon) and His Star (Johnny)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Soulmates Sometimes Come In Threes

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Tour by James Newton Howard

Skyfall by the Midnite String Quartet

Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon

(yes there are multiple songs because this relationship deserves it)

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Might be a bit of a shock, but Johnny loves to dominate Simon. Especially when they're deployed.

・You gave them the green light to be intimate whenever they wanted, especially when on deploment. But both Simon and Johnny agreed it wasn't the same without you. (Actually makes them feel sad and guilty.)

・Trying new things in the bedroom is something that you and Johnny really enjoy. Simon is more of a calmer, more sensual lover. He doesn't like anything too hardcore.

・He wants to make love, not fuck goddamit!

・You know how couples love going to the farmer's markets on the weekend? Yeah well you and Johnny love going to sex shops.

・Dildos, vibrators, strap ons, nipple clamps, different types of lube...

・Both Johnny and Simon like to be pegged.

・And Simon likes eating ass

・Simon isn't very comfortable with public sex, so you never push him to. But Johnny is all for it.

・You and Johnny love riling Simon up. His stoic demeanour almost triggers you two to make him blush.

・No one can remember how this started, but when both men are at home and it's night ... you start a stripping party. But whatever song it lands on; you HAVE to strip/dance/perform to it.

・It took a while for Simon to even participate, but once he saw how open Johnny and you were, he couldn't resist.

・The first time he joined, the song that he had to strip to was, "Say My Name" by Destiny's Child

・He wasn't so enthusiastic but with a bit of encouragement, he blew your minds'.

・Simon ended it by throwing Johnny and yourself over his shoulders and marching you up to the bedroom. Both you and Johnny laughing your assess off, and pinching Simon's backside.

374 notes · View notes

musingsofahufflepuff · 4 days ago

Text

Bloody Lips and Bruised Egos

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott; fluff/angst

summary: when Mattheo gets in another fight, his best friend takes it upon himself to patch him up. Theodore is just his best friend…right?

a/n: when i tell you i’m a feral, rabid animal for this ship, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. yes, there will be more. god i love gay panic

Mattheo hisses as the antiseptic hits his wound with just a bit too much force. The movements are clumsy and unpracticed but he grits his teeth through it anyway. In front of him with his eyebrows furrowed is Theo, intense blue eyes staring down one of the many cuts on his face. Theodore lets out a frustrated string of expletives in Italian, or at least, what Mattheo thinks are expletives. He’s not entirely sure. But what he is sure, Theo has clearly never played nurse before.

“Theo—”

“Merda! I’ve got it Matt.”

He continues to grumble under his breath as he tries to fix the blood he managed to smear across Mattheo’s face worse than the fight had.

“Hold still!”

“I am!”

But instead of being frustrated like he probably should have been, Mattheo was trying not to laugh at how seriously Theo was taking this. If anything, it was kind of cute?

“Teddy—”

“So help me God, Mattheo.”

“What! I didn’t say anything! Your bedside manner is atrocious, Theo. Have you never cleaned a couple cuts before?”

Theodore’s hand stops its movements, eyes flicking up to meet his from where they were focused on his cheek. Mattheo holds his breath as they stare each other down. Because damn it, no one can intimidate him like his—Theo can. Mattheo breaks the staring match as he shakes his mental slip of the tongue away, praying his cheeks aren’t on fire.

“This time is different,” Theo’s voice cuts through the tense silence, pulling Mattheo from his thoughts. He shoots him a questioning look, not even needing to ask how?

“It’s you, dumbass.” There’s his answer but it just leaves Matt more confused. Theo must have picked up on the slight tilt of his head, curls shifting on his forehead, because the taller boy sighs. “Maledetto idiota. I worry about you,” it’s punctuated with a flick to Mattheo’s forehead, making him blink and pull his head back in surprise. “Oh.”

Then like it never happened, Theo is back to cleaning his wounds, gentler this time. The touch is almost feather-light, like he’s scared of hurting Mattheo further. Theo works in silence until Mattheo speaks up again; his tone dropped down, no longer making an attempt at banter. Vulnerable.

“You didn’t have to do this y’know. I could’ve done it myself… or gone to Pomfrey.” His gaze is locked on his lap, head still tilted up for Theo to do his thing. There’s a few more beats of quiet and Mattheo doesn’t even have to look up to know Theo’s trying to figure out what he wants to say.

“You got these because of me. I should be the one cleaning you up.” There it is.

Brown eyes flick up to meet blue ones, so much passing between them without a word. “You didn’t make me deck that bastard in the face.”

Theo dodges the reassurance with a shrug. He traces over the worst of the gashes with his thumb, uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t think they’ll scar.”

Mattheo hums in response as he tries to push past the gushy-feely bullshit with some banter, “that’s good, wouldn’t want my face to get any uglier.”

Theo’s brows furrow again. “What are we doing Matt?”

Mattheo’s mouth goes dry, caught off guard by the question, “wha—what do you mean?”

“Are you just playing dumb? You know what I mean.” And damn it, Mattheo does know. The lingering glances, the sitting ever so slightly too close for two people that claim to hate physical contact, the late nights smoking together and talking about everything. Mattheo is intimately familiar with what Theodore is referring to. But he’d rather take another fist to the face than admit it out loud. And maybe part of him hoped his best mate felt the same and they’d never have to have this conversation.

But a quiet voice in the back of his head, the one he tries to shove away every single time it comes up, is glad Theo’s the one to say something. That maybe something can change and Mattheo can finally do the things he’s wanted to do. The things he’s longed for in the privacy of his four poster with the curtains drawn in the middle of the night. The things he’s yearned for since his stupid, stupid heart went and fell for the one person he couldn’t have. But instead of giving in, his walls come back up and he’s sliding off the edge of Theo’s bed.

“No, I’m not playing dumb, jackass. And next time, just let me handle the clean up. It’s not like I’m dying.”

Theo’s soft expression instantaneously evaporates, making Mattheo regret ever opening his stupid mouth. Hell, he wishes Theo would look mad, pissed, hit him, anything other than the cold, dead eyes he’s getting now. And he wants to apologize, he really does. But pride? ego? cowardice? holds him back.

So he does what he always does when it comes to Theo and this stupid little dance they’ve been doing all term. He runs away. And fuck, he really does feel like a coward. But he can’t—can’t what exactly? He’s not entirely sure.

Before he can make it to the door, Theo’s barking his name. “Mattheo! Wait.” And he’s barely given a moment to react.

Theo grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close. As their chests bump together, Mattheo’s eyes widen, heart thundering in his chest. The grip on his shirt slowly relaxes and is shifted to the back of his neck. Mattheo braces for a punch.

But instead he gets lips lightly pressing against his. And fuck he thinks his heart might stop. He’s experienced kisses before, heated make out sessions in broom closets and sloppy drunken ones at parties but nothing like this. This is gentle and tender and sweet in a way no one else has ever been with him. And he damn near melts.

His hands automatically come up to cup Theo’s face, a hint of scruff under his fingertips. Mattheo’s seen Theo kiss people before; passionate, like he’s trying to devour them whole, but this is different. He could have never anticipated Theo’s lips to be so soft, the movement like he’s scared Mattheo might break apart without warning. Maybe he will.

Before he can quite get addicted to this feeling—this sinful, heavenly feeling—Theodore’s pulling away. And it takes everything in Mattheo to not chase after his lips. Instead they stare at each other for a moment, breathing a little heavy and cheeks lightly flushed. Then Theo’s running a hand through his hair with a murmured curse under his breath and leaving the dorm. Taking Mattheo’s heart with him.

#ohhh yeah entering a new era #your honor they're gay #and in love #idiots in love #one of my fave tropes #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x theodore nott #mattheodore #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #gay #fuck jkr #mykie fics

145 notes · View notes

djarins-cyare · 9 months ago

Text

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

247 notes · View notes

taropotwrites · 3 months ago

Text

“I can’t speak!” Jason screams, but all that comes out is a gargled mess that sends the expression on Dick’s face plummeting into the icy depths of hell. It’s so pleasing. So, so pleasing to see the joy and humour wiped clean from the face of Dick Fucking Grayson. That’s right, the grief in Jason crows, feel just an ounce of the pain that you left me in.

“I—“ Dick can’t seem to speak either, but for a different reason. His own voice box, whole and unslashed and never silenced, bobs as he swallows. “How did this happen, Jay? S-Since when…”

‘Are you fucking stupid!’ Jason feels his useless larynx tear at the force of his rage, mangled vocal cords vibrating painfully, feeding iron down his throat, ‘Who do you think did this to me!’ And the knife in his heart demands more agony, so Jason tears the collar of his under-armour down.

Dick’s eyes go straight to where he wants it, to Jason’s neck, where his mutism is slashed across his throat in one vicious, horrible, line. Seven inches stretching perpendicular to his oesophogus. Six months healed, but forever an angry, jagged scar of raised tissue.

And Jason knows that Dick knows. He hears the sharp intake of air, and sees Dick’s eyes grow round enough that he almost looks like his younger self. The self that had taken one look at Jason wearing his colours and cursed him for it.

Jason waits for the satisfaction to hit, begs for the high of the pain when he finally gets to see the horror, the anguish, on the face of the Robin that Jason had once watched flying over rooftops with nothing but stars in his eyes. Now neither of them are starry-eyed. Jason’s are poison green, while Dick’s are a few shades away from sharing the riteousouness of their mentor. So Jason waits, for disgust, or fear, or— Or anything! Anything that he could latch on to instead of noticing the wetness in his eyes, or the beat of his lungs expanding irregularly.

But Dick disappoints him. Because there is no anger from him, only an overwhelming sense of grief. Only a sharp recoil, and a sound almost like a sob.

Suddenly, Jason is uncomfortable. And ashamed.

“Jaybird…”

‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Jason’s mind says. ‘Get the fuck away from me,’ his body language says.

Dick swallows hard, tripping backwards. Away from Jason. “I-I’m sorry, I need to—“ He bolts from the room and takes Jason’s rage with him.

Dick is shaking. He’s shaking so hard his brain mistakes the floor as a ship adrift at sea, his side hits the corner of the table as he drops to his knees. It probably hurts, but not as much as the engulfing, stuttering pumping in his chest. His heart is trying to leave him through his throat, his lunch is successful.

Jason will never make jokes at Dick’s expense again.

Jason will never wittily insult his opponents again.

Jason will never quote Jane Austen or reenact Shakespeare again.

Jason will never speak again.

Oh god. Dick couldn’t even remember the last time he had heard his brother’s laugh. Was it before Ethiopia?

He wipes the sick from his mouth and goes back. Jason looks… not fine, his eyes are near glazed, but his head tracks movement so Dick tries anyways. “Does he know the full story?”

Jason’s shoulders come up in a kind of half shrug. Then his hands come up, flipping and moving. Dick scrambles to keep up, his signing is functional but inferior. The first Robin didn’t learn how to sign until Jason, who sat on a fire escape of a crime alley apartment building every night for months just trying to make conversation with a young boy who was deaf.

“His batarang,” Jason tells him in sign, a condemnation. It’s an answer for a lot of things. Because, Bruce had sat at a workbench for years, Bruce could slice an apple from a branch without rustling the leaves. Bruce knew what his batarangs could do.

Dick trembles. Rage? Fear? He doesn’t know, but it forces him to open his mouth. “He won’t fucking come near you again, Jay, I swear it.”

And that smashes the floodgates to smithereens. Jason is heaving, a wretched, ugly, soundless thing of pain and betrayal. His fingers jerk, pressing a phantom trigger, aimed at nothing until Dick steps forward. After that, Dick can barely keep up with Jason’s fluttering hands. “He chose him over me. He chose him. He killed me and he chose him.”

Him. Jason’s killer. Joker.

“I know, Jaybird, I know,” Dick whispers uselessly. “Tell me what you need.”

A breath, two. Jason exhales and it sounds like a rockslide in a thunderstorm. Sinew tearing, blood gushing. Dick’s toes curl at the sounds but Jason makes his lips move, soundlessly, at first. Pointlessly. Then gravel forcing itself off his tongue.

“K…ill… ‘im,” Jason rasps, the effort staining his teeth red.

And Dick closes his eyes, and swears it on the universe.

Usually I don't really enjoy the 'deaf Red Hood' trope 'cause Jason goes through enough in canon without the added angst. But, I dunno, I just really wanted to write like a hurt!Jason type thing and what better than if Dick finds out that Bruce's batarang did some lasting damage.

#fanfiction #batman #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #writing #from my vault

67 notes · View notes

peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Sucks to Suck

pairing: Din Djarin x senator!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: near death experience, sexual references, sexual thots, not smut but sensual i guess?, alcohol consumption and drunk reader, respect of consent, SEXUAL TENSION and description of weaponds and snakes, tiny bit of body dysmorphia, swearing, takes place in between S2 of the Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett

The Mandalorian Airs Tomorrow!

a/n you guys see my padme reference there? huh? enjoy the tension the not angst but angst i loved writing this (it is 1am help i started writing this at 10pm) the sighing gif is literally din giving into his intrusive thoughts this whole story it was too perfect not to use (also i make up star wars planets lmao wut) my favorite mandalorian fic of mine besides secret

summary Din is Senator Y/N’s bodyguard and helps her after an attack

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 10 mins 1 seconds

The Mandalorian your father hired to protect you while you were visiting planet Elaeia was less than ideal.

The same one who also came back to accompany you to a senate meet where there was a threat made against your life.

And the same one that followed you around your whole beach vacation.

Somehow he turned in to an on call babysitter for you. Every time you saw him waiting outside your ship you began to loathe the trip. And soon, he began to show up around your house. Didn’t your father trust you? You were way past the age for need of a babysitter. You were a young adult, you could be the babysitter. And you were a damn senator. But as always, you sucked it up and tried to make the best of the situation.

“Don’t you ever get tired of the suit?” you asked, trudging up the stairs of your luxury apartment you rented for the week.

“Never.” Din lied. He couldn’t count the countless times he had wanted to rip it off and spent a night with you. Chills sent down his spine as he tried to think of something different to ease himself into the long week ahead.

But you were work. Your powerful father was paying him more than any bounty could. He needed the credits more than he needed you, right?

“What do you wear under there anyways?”

He hesitated to answer. “Clothes.”

“Really?” you asked sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he muttered, almost barely enough for you to hear.

“Where are you going to crash tonight?” you asked him, placing your bag on the ottoman in front of your bed. “Not tired,” he lied again. The way he wanted to hold you in that comfortable bed was-

He had to stop his thoughts there.

“What time is it?” you asked him. “Around 7.”

“Shit! I’m going to be late.” you panicked. “I’m sorry, I thought we had some time to rest.” you apologized, knowing Din was exhausted from the trip.

The dress that was already hung in the closet for you was what you were going to wear to the banquet tonight. Without even caring, you opened your bag and pulled out the bra you were going to wear for the night. Without hesitation, Din stepped out of the room. Not today.

The dress was a deep blue and was form fitted. It jutted out at the bottom, complimenting your shape. It had long sleeves and a low neckline where your necklace was going to rest that night. You tied your hair up into a large bun with a braid around the base.

“Your train is here…” Din said, stepping in the room carefully. “Thank you. Wait- Mando?”

His heart skipped a beat when you said his nickname. You had known his name for a while, but he still enjoyed it when you called him Mando. Din was stunned at how you looked. I mean, you always looked good. But he could imagine standing next to you at the banquet in a suit, your arm draped over his and a ring on your finger.

The armor didn’t exist in that world.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Can you get this for me?” you asked, handing him the necklace you were going to wear that night. It was gold. Large and resembled tree roots. It was to sit along your chest and clip under your breasts along with behind your neck to stay put.

He handled the necklace carefully. His arms reached up and placed the necklace in front of you as his fingers trailed up the back to clasp the neck clasp.

“Dank farrik,” he sighed. His gloves were in the way of handling the tiny clasp. “Hold it for a second,” he told you. Din sighed as he made the decision. He slowly slipped off each glove and set them down on the bed.

You seemed to tense when his hands brushed your shoulders. You turned your head and saw his gloves sitting at the edge of your bed. The skin was cold and his hands were surprisingly soft.

Din hadn’t touched a woman with his bare hands well… ever. Sure he had brought in bounties who could identify as female. But nobody as elegant and beautiful as you. He would never forget the oddly intimate encounter.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly, adjusting the necklace around your ribcage. “You could call this more of a corset,” you huffed, smiling as you caught a glimpse of his skin as he slipped his gloves back on.

Standing in the mirror, you struggled getting the bottom clasp closed. You turned your body, trying to see if you had gained a bit of weight since you last wore this piece.

“Din,” you called sweetly, almost with a bit of song in your voice. He turned around on his heel as you saw from the mirror and it made you smile. “Yes?” he asked in the same tone you called him.

The way you called for him made him think about one of the rare memories he had of his parents. How one called out to the other. It was a brief moment but gave him deja vu when he heard you speak his name. Speak his name like a wife would call to her husband.

“It won’t-”

The sigh from his modulator was hard to miss.

“Can you help?” you asked, eyes looking up into his viser.

“I’ll hold them, don’t worry.” you smiled, your hands branching down lifting up your breasts.

Under the mask his eyes widened at the comment.

Din got down on his knees to try to get a better angle of the clasp. No other reason. He tried his best to focus on the clip but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way you held yourself. Thank the gods for the viser, or he would have died of embarrassment.

“How’s it going?” you asked him. You could feel him struggling again with the gloves.

“What if I…”

You attempted to hold your breasts with one arm and had the other hand come down to help him, but the plan failed. Your boobs folded over on his hands without fail.

His hands quickly retreated from your ribcage. You noticed the stress in his demeanor, his breathing quickened.

You thought he was upset with you. Possibly disrespecting his creed, you felt horrible. Guilt knit tightly in your stomach as you knew you were going to think about this event the whole night. The embarrassment was enough for a lifetime.

Din couldn’t care less about his creed at the moment. He had never felt boobs before.

“Oh god! I am so sorry,” you said in horror.

“I can have someone at the banquet do it, let’s just forget-”

You were silenced by the sound of his gloves hitting the ground. Once again, his hands were at your service.

“Let’s get this done. We’re going to be late.” he said.

Grabbing the chain once again, he clasped it on the first try.

He escorted you to the train silently. He held one of your hands in his. The other hand held his pair of gloves.

Din hadn’t even notice you grabbed his hand. And to be honest, you didn’t really either. It was an instinct. Trains always freaked you out and he knew that. The gap between the ground and the train car, the speed they went at. Commercial trains were filled with unsuspecting people. Thankfully, the banquet event sent out personal trains for some of the local senators.

Finally you only noticed when he pulled away to put his gloves back on as you pulled closer to the event.

Had he really been holding your hand the whole time?

Meanwhile back at the apartment you had rented, you expected it to be empty. There was no need for a guard, you had only just arrived. Your location to be revealed to possible rebels wasn’t likely, you were stationed there for only a short time. A guard would follow you home along with Din.

You knew Din was capable of protecting you, he had every time. Something about a man in armor killing in your name just did something to you. But the uncertainty of almost everything about him made you push that idea to the back of your mind. And anyways, you were bound to marry for a political reason some day. It was coming eventually you assumed. Dates were never nearly as exciting as an adventure with Din.

The guard honestly was a joke at this point. It gave your advisors a piece of mind though, so you allowed it.

The seemingly empty apartment was carefully broken into. The sliding glass door from the balcony was opened, no fingerprints left and promptly shut as the rebel left.

Poisonous snakes were left slithering in your sheets.

It was something you would later recognize as a similar thing had happened to a senator many years ago. Poisonous bugs left to crawl in her bed.

Din walked you off the train platform and back to your apartment as quickly as he could. You, on the other hand, we’re being difficult.

“Don’t you ever take vacations?” you asked him, barely able to stand upright. He ignored your strange drunken question and kept holding on to you. “You didn’t answer meee!” you yelled, breaking free from his grasp and raising your hands to the air. The mist had accumulated from the oncoming storm.

“No. I don’t.” he sighed, grabbing your arm gently and guiding you back to the lobby with a hand placed on your lower back.

“Din,” you slurred, holding on to his armor in the elevator. Your fingers marched up his beskar chest plate as you asked him this.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?”

He blinked furiously under his helmet. What the fuck?

“Y/N, let’s get you to bed. Hm?”

“But Dinnn,”

“Come on,” he sighed, placing his hand on your back. The guard was stationed at the door. Din gave him a nod.

“I’m not sleepy!” you insisted, angered that you were being forced to end this wonderful night.

Din threw his gloves on the kitchen counter. He was getting sick of the things. After all these years in gloves, his hands never felt as uncomfortable and sweaty as they did that night.

“Here,” he sighed, steadying you by the shoulder and unclasping the clasp by your neck. The heavy necklace seemed to fall off yourself, only slightly catching at the waist.

“Thank you mister.” you said, letting it drop to the floor with a shake of your hips. Along with that you left your heels.

He saw you face dive into your bed and chuckled a bit as he was picking up after you. That necklace was probably worth more than the beskar he was wearing.

Din eyed up the couch, exhausted after watching you all night. He stood in the balcony of the event and watched you drink yourself almost to the point of embarrassment until he decided it was time for you to return home.

He had just began to settle in when he heard you scream.

It wasn’t like he had heard you scream before. He was used to all the rage screams when an article came out portraying you negatively. He was used to all the screams over the phone with your friends. He was used to the muffled screams he heard as he hid in his quarters when you would have dates over and prayed it would end.

But he would never forget this one.

He knocked over the vase on the coffee table, but didn’t really care.

The prolonged scream attracted the interest of the guard who busted in, spear ready.

Din had made it in the room first. He drew his blaster watched as you simultaneously chucked a snake in his direction. His blaster shot, killing the thing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing you immediately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his armor.

The guard ripped back the sheets and found three more slithering in the sheets. The sight of that made you shriek more.

Din’s hand ran across the back of your head. His fingers hadn’t felt hair like that in forever. His own locks didn’t match up to your softness.

The guard removed each snake and silently killed them.

“Cardillian Greybecks,” the guard sighed, now bagging the snake carcasses. “I’m going to bring these down to the base, are you two all right alone or should I call someone?”

“We’re fine.” Din said sternly, praying for the man to leave.

He calmed you enough to sit you back down on the edge of the bed. “Everything is okay. No more snakes, see?” he says, shaking out a blanket.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your hand running down the side of your leg. “You alright?” Din asked, shaking out the pillows just in case.

“I must have scratched my leg in the scuffle, it really fucking hurts.” you slurred, rubbing the side of your leg. Of course the alcohol was still there.

“Oh gods,” Din sighed, asking for your leg immediately. Laying back against the bed, you lifted your right leg in the air for him to inspect. If he wasn’t so worried he would have thought the pose was somewhat provocative.

“Shit,” he sighed. You were bitten.

“What?” you asked eagerly, pulling your leg back. He held on to it though, staring at the festering wound on your leg.

“It hurts. Please,” you begged, pulling your leg back. Din was scrambling on what to do.

“This…” he sighed, hating the only option available. There wasn’t enough time to get you to a proper medic.

“Hold still.”

He slowly lifted his helmet up to the bottom of his nose to reveal his mouth and chin.

“Din!” you yelled as his lips made contact with your skin. “What the-” you began, but immediately soothed as you felt the venom leaving your bite. A needy moan escaped from your lips.

Din spat out the first round of venom. It stung his lips. It wasn’t enough to kill him, it wasn’t in his bloodstream. It tasted bitter and artificial.

“Oh my god,” you whined as his lips continued to suck on the wound. “Din, holy fuck.” you moaned, squirming in his grasp.

Even though you just had been on the brink of death, this was one of the most sensual things you had ever experienced in your opinion. The thought of his lips teasing you drove you up the walls.

He spit out another round. “One more, I’m sorry.”

You gasped at his voice. No mask, no modulator. “Oh gods, don’t stop.” you begged. Your back arched as he took in the final round, finally tasting blood to indicate the venom was gone.

He spit it out on the ground and slipped his mask back on.

“What?” he asked out of breathe. He had convinced himself he didn’t just hear what he thought he did. His ears were muffled by the mask in its awkward position.

Sitting up in bed, you patted the mattress. He sat down.

“That was so hot,” you whispered near his ear.

He didn’t say anything to you. You had prayed he would rip off his mask and take you then and there. Din wanted the same thing too, he would feverishly re play this night over and over in his mind for years.

But you were wasted. And he had a creed.

Even though after each passing day without Grogu his allegiance to his creed drew weaker, he still had his limits.

Din knew you would regret those words in the morning. But the phrase Cara told him many moons ago rung in his brain.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Talk to me when your sober.” he replied. He stood up and removed the base of the helmet once again. You embraced his body as he kissed you on the top of your head.

“Din,” you feverishly whispered. Without a second thought, you stood up. His body pushed against yours as you passionately kissed his lips. Your nose bumped the mask up more, but neither of you cared. His nose brushed against yours as you kept your eyes shut. The urge to look was strong, but you respected him too much to take a peek.

“One day,” he smiled, breaking the kiss. “Are you sure I can’t see more?” you asked. He shook his head as he pulled the mask down again. “One day,” he repeated, his voice now modulated again.

“Thank you for saving my life.” you said. “Any day,” he said sarcastically.

He placed the blankets securely over you.

The room was dim enough where he was sure if he was ever caught he would have an excuse. And you would lie for him, he was certain of it.

“Just one more thing-” you asked as his silhouette made its way through your door. He turned and looked at you.

“What color are your eyes?”

He had the widest smile on his face. The thought of you trying to form his face in your mind was almost comical for him.

“Brown. Good night, Cyare.”

“I knew they were brown, I knew it.” you whispered to yourself, convinced Din couldn’t hear.

He smiled as he retreated to the couch, unsure if sleep would visit him after his eventful night.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

@peeta-is-useless @kirsteng42 @salliebley @bubsonnobx @lexloon @untitledarea @nyotamalfoy

1K notes · View notes

clone-anon · 1 year ago

Note

Hey there! As silly as it sounds, the release of TBB season 3 has reopened some old wounds caused by season 2 and left me in a bit of an odd place emotionally. I was one of those that actually went through the five stages of grief after that finale and with the uncertainty of Tech's fate hanging in the air, well, all of that is starting to bubble to the surface again. Tech is one of my "comfort clones", plus he reminds me a lot of my husband, so I'm a bit attached to him emotionally. Anyway, I'm rambling. What I'm asking for is some warm, snuggly comfort Tech (with a dash of snuggly comfort Echo) to help ease the pain and let me know everything's gonna be okay. :')

This isn't silly at all, Anon. Everyone who loves Tech has had to deal with this as best they can and we're all waiting with bated breath to see what season 3 has in store. Hopefully this will offer a dash of comfort. I included platonic Echo cuddles and romantic Tech cuddles.

Word Count: 726

You woke from a dream with a shudder. Your eyes adjusted to the lack of light as quickly as you could. You were on the Marauder and it was the middle of the night on some mid-rim planet. Tech, Echo, and you were off on a supply run and decided to hunker down for the night before venturing into the nearest town in the morning. You looked around. Tech was lightly snoring in his bunk and you breathed a sigh of relief. He was there. After so many months without him, he was back. You longed to climb into bed with him, but knew it took so much effort for him to fall asleep that you didn't want to disturb him. Instead, you ventured into the cockpit to find Gonky and Echo passing the time watching the stars as Echo finished up a communication with Rex. Always something to do.

"Hey," Echo said as you walked toward the copilot's seat.

"Hey," you replied.

"Can't sleep again?"

You nodded and rubbed your face. Echo sighed and tried to smile. He got up and went to one of the storage spaces. There was a mattress stored in there. Now that Omega was bigger and you often joined them, it helped to have a mattress they could throw on the floor. Echo laid it out, threw a blanket over it and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said.

"Shouldn't you be keeping watch?"

"We're fine here. Security system is working and I haven't noticed anything in hours."

You laid down next to him and rested your head against his chest. Echo rested his cheek on the top of your head and hummed a little. You had both become accustom to holding each other during those difficult times when you both missed those you'd lost. He liked the company and felt warmer next to someone.

After some time, Echo spoke up. "You could wake him, you know."

"He needs his rest," you replied.

Just then, familiar footsteps approached your position laying in the middle of the ship.

"I have adequately rested," Tech said.

"Did we wake you?" you asked.

"Not at all. It's my watch," Tech answered.

"Not much to watch," Echo said. "Your new security system keeps an eye on everything."

"As it should," Tech replied with a satisfied smile.

Echo gave you a quick squeeze before he got up. He headed to his own space where it was a bit darker and easier to rest his eyes. You weren't about to be alone though. Tech peered through the windows, gave Gonky a friendly pat, and then asked to join you on the mattress. You smiled as he got comfortable next to you. Of course he was welcome. There wasn't any question. You'd practically clung to each other since his return. You studied the scars on his face and the way his gait had changed after his fall. You didn't want to think about it. You just wanted him close.

As if reading your mind, he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. He kissed your forehead and simply said, "I'm here."

You nodded as you buried your face in neck and felt him kissed the crown of your head. You fought back tears and he rubbed your back. You gave him a squeeze as he gently laid one ankle over yours, looking for more contact. You looked up at him to find misty eyes and a smile.

"Still can't believe you're back," you said.

"Believe it," he said. "How can I make it up to you?"

"Tech, you don't have to. I know you missed me too and went through so much trying to get back. Just don't go anywhere without me again."

"I promise," he said. "For now though, you need your rest. You had your watch and now it's my turn."

You leaned in and kissed him with all you had. He still took your breath away. You got comfortable cuddled up against him. You listened to his heartbeat and your breathing slowed. You fell asleep quickly in the comfort of his presence. Tech got out his data pad to pass the time and check for any alerts that danger was near the Marauder. He smiled as he felt you enter a deeper stage of sleep, his other hand gently caressing you.

#tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch #tbb #reader insert #tech anon #echo anon

196 notes · View notes

multi-fandoms-posts · 7 months ago

Text

You live!

Qimir x reader

"How are you feeling?" Yord asks as we exit the ship. "It's a little weird being on a mission again," I say.

The last time I went on a mission was so many years ago, just before I lost the love of my life. Of course, no one knew we were together, just that we were very close. I've been very withdrawn since then, at least until now. I feel like the Force wanted me to come here.

"Hey, this is your first mission," says Osha. "Yeah, you could say that so," I smile. "Why haven't you been on a mission for so long?" asks Osha, and Yord tried to signal with some hand signals that she shouldn't ask that, but it was too late. "Osha," says Yord, and Osha looks at Yord.

He just shakes his head. "Oh," says Osha. "I'm sorry," she says. "No, it's okay," I smile weakly.

When we walk into the forest, we somehow got lost, and me? I managed to get lost again. This reminds me of the last mission we had as a pair before...

Memory

Great, how can you get lost anyway? I sigh and just keep walking. I suddenly hear a noise and turn around, only to be yanked to the ground. "Damn," I curse and quickly grab my lightsaber and kill him.

I quickly get up and hear that there are several more here. They are very close and I quickly run off.

I look back and don't see that someone is standing in front of me, so I run straight into the person and fall to the ground.

I quickly grab my lightsaber and want to attack again. "Wow, hey, it's just me," says Qimir. I immediately hug him. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he says and puts his arms around me. "I got lost somehow," I say and pull away from him. "Your mind was obviously somewhere else," he grins, and I just shrug. "We have to get out of here immediately," I remember.

Qimir is just about to ask why when he hears the noises. He takes my hand and we run to the ship together.

That was the last mission we had as a couple before he went on a mission alone and never came back.

I suddenly hear a fight and run over there. I am shocked when I see what I find.

I see some Jedi lying dead on the ground, and Sol and Jecki are fighting a stranger.

Jecki fights the stranger alone and is killed. I see her fall to the ground and then look at the stranger who has lost his mask.

"Qimir," I say, shocked. He turns his face towards me. "Y/N," he says, also shocked. Without thinking twice, I run into his arms and cling to him. "Please, please tell me you're real," I say, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm real," he says, holding me tightly to him.

Qimir has let go of me and is stroking my cheek. "I thought you were dead," I say with tears in my eyes.

Qimir pulls me into a passionate kiss. I put my arms around his neck.

After a while we break away from each other. I just remember why we went to Khofar.

"What are you doing here? Why are you killing the Jedi?" I ask, but I get no answer from him. "Qimir, please," I say, putting my hand on his cheek. "They said you were dead," he says quietly. "Who said that?" I ask, and again I get no answer. The next moment I see Yord jumping out and trying to attack him, but I don't give him a chance and use the Force to slam him into a tree.

"Damn it, Qimir, answer me!" I growl at him and he looks at me darkly.

"Good," I say and take out my lightsaber. "Then just like that," I say and attack him. He immediately blocks the attack with his lightsaber. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, surprised. I take a few steps back and swing my lightsaber. "You don't want to answer me, then fight," I say and attack again. He dodges.

I turn around and we look at each other before we both use the Force at the same time. I slam into a tree and He flies to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I see Master Sol and Yord moving. "Don't you dare interfere!" I say angrily and stand up again.

"You've gotten stronger," he smiles. "I can only return the favor," I smile and attack him again. This went on for a while until I was lying on the ground and Qimir was on top of me, grinning. "I have to give you that, you were always the better of the two of us," I smile.

Qimir puts away his lightsaber and helps me up. "I've missed you so much," he says. "I've missed you so much too, Qimir," I say, smiling. "We should talk," he says, using the Force to send Yord and Sol flying away and losing consciousness.

"My ship is not far from here," he says and walks a little ahead, but I stay where I am. He turns to me. "I promise I'll answer all your questions, just come with me," he says and comes towards me. "I need my girl," he says. "Am I still your girl?" I ask with a smile. "Of course, you'll always be my girl," he smiles and holds out his hand to me. I take his hand and we walk together to his ship, where he answers all my questions except for the question about what happened to him back then. He tensed up when I asked that question. Something bad must have happened that he doesn't want to talk about. Still, I'm surprised at everything he told me.

"Will you come with me?" he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look at him. I've missed him so much. I may be a Jedi, but my love for him is stronger. "Yes," I say and he starts to grin before pulling me into a passionate kiss.

After we have disengaged, he goes to the control console, enters coordinates and starts the ship. "I love you," he says, smiling. "I love you too," I smile back and pull him into a sweet kiss.

After being apart for so long, we are finally together again and no one can separate us.

#star wars #star wars the acolyte #the acolyte #qimir #qimir x reader #star wars qimir x reader #star wars x you #star wars x reader #manny jacinto x reader #manny jacinto

87 notes · View notes

starblitzy-started-a-fire · 30 days ago

Text

Transformers: Future AU Fanfic

Part 2

Part one here!

“Welcome to Cybertron, young bot,” greeted the one in the middle. You couldn’t do anything but stare, your head still a bit overwhelmed. One of the bots on the right scoffed, causing you to look at him. He was the one with the crown, and he was peering down at you with minimal interest, but major malice. You resisted the urge to quiver beneath his gaze.

“So…what is the importance of this rat anyway?” said the crowned bot abruptly, distaste dripping in his voice. Despite your nerves, you found the courage to be upset. Why was he calling you a rat? What had you even done? You had just walked in here!

“Starscream-,” began the bot in the middle, before he was interrupted.

“Lord Starscream, Prime. Do not forget it,” snapped the bot, Starscream, you supposed. The female bot sitting next to Starscream glanced at him in both warning and something else you couldn’t quite place. Her stern stare made him back down. Starscream huffed and leaned back in his seat.

“Apologies. We must move on to the important subject. The one you were summoned to discuss,” said the one next to Starscream. She watched you with seriousness in her gaze, but with a small smile. You smiled back, even though you were still a bit nervous. You were in a completely different world, with no idea what was going on, after all. Though a part of you was amazed, another part of you was afraid, and missed home. You had to get back home, you had to-

“We can’t seem to locate where your ship came from,” said the middle one, whom Starscream had called ‘Prime’.

“Which is unusual,” added the bot to the left of Prime, “As Cybertron has built many bridges with other colonized planets in the past few years.”

“Your words are true, Megatronus,” Prime said with a nod.

“True as they may be, they offer NOTHING to help with the REAL problem!” claimed Starscream harshly, this time ignoring the stare of the bot beside him.

“At least my words are true at all, unlike yours,” Megatronus replied, sternly, but without any malice.

“Oh, how mature of you, Lord Megatron!” Starscream remarked, throwing his hands up into the air. You looked between the two, waiting for something to happen.

“Petty as always, Starscream,” muttered Megatron/Megatronus. The Prime gave both Megatron and Starscream a stern stare before turning back to you.

“Where were we?” Prime asked politely, but you could see in his eyes that he was tired. The bot on the left end of the table raised his hand.

“We were discussing Master Mystery Bot over here. Oh, yeah, where the heck did you come from?” asked the bot, adjusting his red cape as he talked.

“I…I don’t know. A planet?” You replied, shrugging slightly.

“Oh, wow, look at that. Tell us something we don’t know,” scoffed Starscream. You tried to think of an answer, but you had nothing.

“I don’t know what happened. I just know that I was put on a ship, launched into space, and then…” Your voice faded to nothingness.

“Something went wrong,” guessed Megatron. You nodded, having remembered that much.

“Huh. Bad pilot, am I right?” commented the bot on the left.

“Rodimus,” scolded Megatron, sighing as Rodimus shrugged as a lackluster apology.

“I…I guess,” you replied. Prime thought for a moment, then cleared his throat and directed his attention towards you.

“And you don’t remember the name of the planet you came from?” Prime asked, as though confirming something.

“What? Of course I…should. I swear I know…why can’t I remember?” You responded, your voice slipping into mutterings of confusion. Something wasn’t right. You knew the name of your planet, it was…it was…what? What was going on?

“I’m so sorry, I just…I just can’t remember what it’s called,” you finished lamely, a bit disappointed in yourself. Prime nodded in consideration, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“You cannot remember the name of your planet?” inquired the female bot sitting beside Starscream. You shrugged slightly and dipped your head. What else could you say? You truly couldn’t remember, however strange that sounded to the Council, it was the truth.

“Windblade, do you really believe this strange-rather suspicious might I add-bot is telling the truth? How ignorant could you possibly be?” Starscream chuckled, narrowing his optics slyly. Windblade gave him a look in return; you guessed that the two bickered often.

“Can you tell us anything about your planet?” Megatron asked, ignoring both Starscream and Windblade’s statements. He leaned forward a bit to see you better. You nodded, opening your mouth to say something. But nothing came out. Surprised, you tried to think of something, anything about your planet, your home.

“It…it was stable. Beautiful, orderly. Perfect,” You described, those words being all you could conjure up. Megatron nodded, though he looked suspicious of your answer. Prime seemed satisfied enough, though you could tell he wasn’t finished with this whole mystery yet.

“Very well. I’ll have someone escort you to a safe place for now until we can get you back home,” Prime said, raising a hand to call for a guard. He looked at the others sitting beside him, waiting for their approval. Megatron and the lady, Windblade, nodded in satisfaction of Prime’s decision, while Rodimus gave a thumbs-up. Starscream busied himself with cleaning out his sharp teeth with a finger, but finally gave in and gave a stiff approving nod after being stared at for a minute.

“It is decided. The guard will guide you to a place to stay. Until our next meeting,” commanded Prime, standing up. You watched as the others stood up with him and place a hand over their chest, some more enthusiastically than others.

“Peace be with all. And Till all are One.”

#transformers fanfiction #fanfiction #transformers au #maccadams #maccadam #megatron #optimus prime #transformers starscream #starscream #windblade #transformers windblade #rodimus #rodimus mtmte #rodimus prime #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n

30 notes · View notes

mytragedyperson · 7 months ago

Text

Ok i was thinking about assassination classroom and Karma again, as I occasionally do, and I remembered his first episode where he, like, falls off the cliff thing so he can shoot Korosensei, and how, like willing, he is to get hurt or even possibly die just to kill him. And, how he fully accepted death and it's only because Korosensei caught him that he didn't, at the very least, injure himself but, since he was falling like back, head, neck first, probably wouldn't have been good for him. And i feel like Korosensei, Karma and Nagisa all gloss over this incident way too quick, and to my knowledge no one else knows. Like, i get it but, also, the fact this middle school child is willing to go this far to achieve his goal, to kill a teacher, is horrifying, And it got me thinking, right? Because, surely after this, even if nothing happened, Korosensei or one of the teachers would have to tell his parents, right? Like, this seems pretty serious and like something you'd have to tell a student's parents? But it's just never mentioned again.

so, fic idea, Karasuma finds out about this and is like wtf. so he's the one that calls Karma's parents, when he realises Korosensei forgot, or at least he attempts to, but the only numbers the school has is their house number, and Karma's mobile number (Karma said it was on of his parents' and no one at the school cared enough to check because they suck). So, when Karasuma fails to get an answer, he tries to organise a face-to-face thing. Doesn't work, they don't answer, they don't find out. So Karasuma asks Karma how he can get in touch with his parents, says it's just to ask about something else, but Karma's like, oh, they work in another country.

Long story short Karasuma gets suspicious about Karma's homelife and quickly discovers he's at the very least neglected and basically unofficially adopts him. Bitch sensei too but that's more because i ship her with Karasuma, but yes, they adopt Karma. This makes all his behaviour make sense and even more when he learns some other things. First, Karma actually likes learning and studying, just not at school. This can either be a thing where he can concentrate better when there's less people around and less going on, and stuff, or it could be a defense mechanism. Personal headcanon time: Karma used to be more open about the fact he liked learning and liked studying, but then people started bullying him for it. So, he learned to fight, so he could defend himself, and started to become more of a delinquent. And this is why he always defended people who were getting bullied. He could relate to them. Him being able to fight got him slapped with the delinquent label so he leant into it, started skipping classes and, when he was there, made a point of looking like he actually wasn't paying attention. Got in a lot of fights to defend himself and protect others, only really fought bullies, but it was enough to intimidate people. But really, when he's skipping class, he's just doing the studying and learning at home, where he can do it without being bullied. Sorry, I've talked before about my headcanon that Karma likes learning, he just doesn't like school. here's a more fleshed out version that I just thought of but adds to this in a way and explains why he learned to fight, other than the cliche "he was a delinquent" or "he wanted his parents' attention". That may be part of the reason but, yeah. This is purely headcanon, I'm not saying this is canon, but yeah.

So anyway, Karasuma basically adopts him and Karma basically lives with him. Karasuma tries to keep things strictly student and teacher at home and takes on a more parental figure at home. And it's not easy for either of them. Karasuma isn't really prepared to be a dad to a traumatised middle schooler and is in denial that he actually cares and tells himself he's just keeping and eye on the kid since no one else is. And Karma has his walls up. He doesn't trust adults because, before Korosensei, he never had an adult genuinely care about him with no strings attached, and even with Korosensei, he's his teacher so still has some level of obligation in any responsibilty he feels for Karma. So Karma doesn't trust Karasuma and is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. So he keeps himself hidden, keeps middle school Karma on the surface and hides the parts of himself he wants to protect away. Because for all Karma is sadistic, he is also a protector. I stand by that and no one will change my mind. And that means protecting himself soon. So it's a struggle, Karasuma trying to get Karma to open up while also trying to keep an emotional distance and not get attached, because when Korosensei dies, he'll have to leave, have to go where the next mission takes him. And Karma trying to keep his more vulnerable side hidden, desperately fighting to keep his walls up, because the last time he trusted and adult, they turned their back on him the second he acted in a way they didn't like and he can't allow himself to get hurt like that again.

But Karasuma keeps finding things out, keeps noticing things, keeps seeing these hidden insecurities and vulnerabilities. And he tries not to push Karma, he does, but he finds out Karma likes learning and studying, finds out he's even smarter than he thought, (like he knew Karma was smart but, like, he didn't realise the extent of it, genius Karma agenda and not in a prodigy way, more he was a neglected kid who had no friends so he just learned everything he could.), like he just knows the most random but interesting facts, keeps noticing just how many styles and techniques of fighting Karma knows, finds out he's self taught. And then comes the real kicker, when Karasuma finds out Karma secretly brought an injured stray cat home (to Karasuma's house that he won't admit even to himself feels like home) and was nursing it back to health after finding some shithead kids from his middle school throwing rocks at it or something. And Karasuma, secret softie and cat person that he is, lets him keep it. They have a pet cat, and Karma learns about Karasuma is, finds out who he is when he's not doing agent stuff, sees him relaxing and being at peace for once. And he lets Karasuma in, against his better judgment (and he knows Karasuma will have to leave at some point, he's here for a reason, he has a job to do, when that job is done he'll leave but maybe for once he can trust and adult, maybe for once he can let and adult in, maybe for once he can be cared for even if it's temporary) and (excuse me if i get events in the wrong order but the point remains) Karma doesn't beat Asano at the exams that time, doesn't come first in math or any other subject, and it annoys him, because even if it didn't look like it, even if it wasn't in class, he actually did study, at home, in secret. And this time was different. This time, despite everything, he wanted to do well not just for him or to rub it in Asano's face, he wanted to make Karasuma proud. It was the first time he could tell an adult he did well, that he got the top score and have them genuinely be proud of him. By this point he's stopped hiding his secret studying from Karasuma. And then Korosensei comes and inadvertantly rubs salt in the wound, taunting him about his failure as if he doesn't already know, as if he doesn't already feel shitty enough about failing, about letting Karasuma down.

But he didn't let Karasuma down. Karasuma knows how hard he was studying, ho hard he was trying, even if no one else does. And even if Karma didn't get the top mark (which by the way, do we ever find out what he got? Was it actually a bad score or just bad for Karma, y'know? I can't remember), Karasuma knows he tried his hardest, so he praises him anyway. By this point he knows enough to know Karma's beating himself up about it, after all, Karma is a perfectionist. Anything less than perfect he sees as being a failure and letting people down. But Karasuma is there to reassure him and tell him that he did well and next time he'll do even better. And he comforts Karma, something no one has ever truly done before. And Karma knows he can trust him.

And then their vacation and the poison incident happens. Karma is forced to watch Karasuma get taken out by the sleeping gas, but manages to keep calm. But after Karma fights an assassin, Karasuma cannot hide his concern, not fully, and after that it only gets harder, especially as they have more father and son bonding moments, Karma opens up to Karasuma but there's still the issue of Karasuma's job. I did consider having Karasuma leave hi job but i honestly think, if he tried, they'd kill him for knowing too much. So instead, he makes sure to visit between every job he has, calls as often as he can while on jobs, and always makes sure he's there for important events. Karma basically lives in the house he has there. Bitch sensei and Karasuma get married. Karma goes to the same high school as Asano, where they're academic rivals in the same class but end up becoming friends and lovers because i ship it and these two are actually very similar and I feel like they genuinely would end up being like a power couple. Plus Asano wants to know more about the Korosensei situation. Also Karasuma teaches Karma more stuff so that if any of his enemies find out about Karma and come after him, Karma can defend himself.

This is angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, full of headcanons, just, in my brain this is the fanfic I'll probably never write because i simply couldn't do it justice.

But I could write snippets about this. whether that be headcanons or just short scenes so, if you'd like me to elaborate, please let me know in comments, or my asks.

#assassination classroom #karma akabane #smart akabane #delinquent akabane #tadaomi karasuma #protective karma akabane #protective karasuma tadaomi #asano gakushuu #parental tadaomi karasuma #tadaomi karasuma adopts karma akabane #asano gakushuu x karma akabane #karma akabane x asano gakushuu #korosensei #assassination classroom headcanons

64 notes · View notes