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rollingsins · 2 years ago

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all hers, part xiii

summary: You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Why should you live while the others died?

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Ghost face spoilers for Scream 1-4.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: 👀 smashed through my writers block, let me know your 🔪🔪 theories.

You haven’t left the car - or Tara’s lap - by the time the police arrive.

Sam greets them, watches as they make their way through the house, casing for strewn pieces of clothing, discarded weapons, footprints, handprints, anything.

But there’s nothing to find. Ghostface is long gone.

By the time they’re done, your anxiety is at an all time high, not even Tara’s arms around you enough to quell the fear inside you. Your chest thumps uncomfortably. Your palms are shaky, sweaty. Flashes of the mask, the knife raised against you.

Is this how Tara’s victims felt in the end? Is this how Wes felt?

The only difference between you and Wes is you’d survived. And he’d died innocent while you survived, guilty. It isn’t fair. You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Your will to live is selfish, almost.

Why should you live while the others died?

The answer is pressed to your side. She’s beautiful, as ever, squeezing your hand so tight the tips of your fingers turn white. Her knee bounces steadily, an indication of her nerves. Her dark eyes are wild, flitting from you to the house to the officers on the lawn. Scanning, as if Ghostface will jump out at any moment. God help him if he does, when she’s like this. White-faced, quietly stewing in her own anger and anxiety. You can almost hear the cogs turning in her brain as she runs wild with the possibilities of who it could be.

The police have questions, what feels like millions of them. The most pressing is why. Why would Ghostface target you specifically? Of course, you know why.

You don’t mention the other victims. You don’t mention Tara’s Ghostface mask hidden in a lockbox in her closet. You don’t mention the motive Ghostface had all but spit into your face.

Someone who thinks you should pay.

Tara, a little on edge, tires very quickly of their incessant questions.

“There’s never a why, do you even live in this town?” Tara barks, voice hot with annoyance, “They’re random. They’ve always been random.”

“That’s not exactly true.” It’s Sheriff Hicks. She climbs out of her squad car, slips her gun into her holster as she stands.

Your chest tightens. She makes you so nervous. You’re so scared one of these days you’ll slip, blurt out the truth before it’s too late.

“Billy Loomis blamed Sidney for his mother abandoning him. Nancy Loomis blamed her for killing her son. Roman Bridger and Jill Roberts wanted infamy.” She surveys you, hand resting gently on her holstered pistol, “The question is: what does this Ghostface want?”

The back of your neck prickles uncomfortably under her gaze. You sink deeper into Tara, wear her almost like a shield.

“Forget his motive, what are you going to do about catching him?” Tara says, arm tight around your waist, “I want a squad car here 24/7. I want officers escorting YN to school. I want a walkie talkie and a phone number so we can have direct contact with them whenever we need-”

The thought of stepping foot into that house sends shockwaves of panic through your body. You grip her waist, tight, trying to draw her attention.

“I can’t go back in there.” You say, voice tight, “Tara, I can’t stay here tonight. I can’t sleep here.”

If Tara’s surprised by this, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she wraps her arms tight around your shoulder and presses a long kiss to your forehead.

“Okay baby.” She says, “We’ll stay with your parents, how about that?”

“I can post a squad car.” Sheriff Hicks interjects, “Two officers. I’ll give you their cell numbers. I’m afraid we’re all out of walkie-talkies.”

She looks at you, for the first time in a long time there’s sympathy in her eyes, “You’re going to be okay.” She promises, “My officers are the very best. But you call me if you remember anything. Anything at all that could help.”

The moment is interrupted by the sheen of blinding headlights. You avert your gaze, blink away the stars in your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

It’s a familiar truck, the heavy slam of the door signals the driver has exited the vehicle. You squint, make out Richie’s figure as he rushes towards you.

“Hey. I came here as fast as I could. Where’s Sam, is she okay?” He’s out of breath, a little panicked as he scans the driveway for his girlfriend.

“Sam’s fine.” Tara says, her shoulders tight, “YN was attacked.”

Richie blinks.

“By Ghostface? Are you alright?”

“Of course she’s not alright.” Snaps Tara, “Some psycho just attacked her at knifepoint.”

She pauses, as if something has just occurred to her. Suspicion brews in her eyes.

“Where have you been?”

Richie draws his attention back to her. The lights of the police sirens flash across his face.

“I was meeting some friends at a bar,” Richie says, “Is Sam in the house?”

“What friends? You got an alibi?” Tara asks, her eyebrows drawn tight.

“You’re not serious?” Richie stares back at her.

The Sheriff tilts her head, suddenly interested.

“Do you?” She reiterates, “Tara and Sam are accounted for. We’ll need to corroborate with any potential witnesses who can place you at the bar.”

Richie opens his mouth in disbelief. He looks between the three of you, waiting for the punchline.

“I didn’t make it there. Sam called-”

The Sheriff hums, scribbles something down on her notepad.

“So no alibi.” Tara scoffs, “You’ve been here two weeks and the one night you go out, YN gets attacked.”

“This is ridiculous.” Richie splutters, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, “Tara. Why would I attack YN? I have no motive.”

But Tara’s mind is made up, she crosses her arms, glares at the Sheriff.

“Are you going to arrest him or what?”

“Tara. I can’t just arrest people.” The Sheriff says, closing her notebook. She looks at Richie, “I suggest you outline to one of my officers the exact route you took to and from the bar. If we can place you on CCTV we can rule you out as a suspect.”

“You can’t arrest people?” Tara challenges. There’s that fire, the one that’s been brewing for the last hour, finally emerging, “What kind of a Sheriff are you?”

“Tara.” You hiss. You turn back to the Sheriff, eyes wide, “I am so sorry, Sheriff, she’s just scared-”

“Scared?” Tara says, sounding outraged. Her dark eyes burn, “I��m furious. I have a prime suspect for you and you won’t arrest him-”

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I put on a Ghostface mask and tried to kill your girlfriend.” Richie argues, loudly.

“What’s going on?” It’s Sam, finally emerging from the house. Richie and Tara both turn to face her, matching expressions of outrage on their faces.

“What’s going on? Your creep of a boyfriend just tried to murder my girlfriend.” Tara snarls.

Richie throws his hands up.

“Why? Why would I want to kill her?”

“I don’t know.” Tara says, “You tell me. Because you’re twisted?”

“You know what,” Richie says, his nostrils flaring. He points his finger at her, “It definitely wasn’t me, because if I was going to murder anyone, it would be you-”

“Stop it!” Sam yells, “Both of you. God. You’re like fucking children.”

They both fall silent. Glare at each other. Sam storms off, presumably back into the house. With a final dirty look at Tara, Richie turns and follows her inside.

You take Tara’s hand, rub your fingers over the back of her hand reassuringly. Richie is a little strange, granted, but you seriously doubt he’d try and kill you. You’ll talk her down later tonight, you figure. Right now; you want out of here.

“Do you have any more questions, Sheriff?” You ask, quietly hoping the answer is no, “I need to call my Dad.”

She surveys you for a moment.

“I think we’re all good here.” She says, finally, “Call me if you remember anything.”

Your Dad is freaked, rightfully so.

In a panic, he demands you come home. He seems to be so frightened he doesn’t even protest when you tell him Tara’s coming too.

She’s still glaring at Richie as she pulls out of the driveway, leaving the slew of officers and sirens behind as she makes her way to your parents home. One hand on the wheel, the other gripping your thigh, tight.

“It’s him, I know it’s him.” She stews, hands tightening on the wheel, “How fucking suspicious can he be. Meeting with some friends, my ass.”

“We don’t know that, babe.” You say, squeezing her hand, “He’s kind of right - what’s his motive? As far as I know we haven’t done anything to offend him.”

“I’ve been on his ass since he got here.” Tara says, “Maybe he’s sick of me. Of us.”

“Or maybe it’s someone else.” You say, staring out the window, “Someone related to the others. Sadie has a brother, I think. One of Aaron’s friends? One of Chase’s?”

There’s a long list of people who would want vengeance on the two of you. It hurts your head to think about.

“Cool it on Richie, please babe. If he is Ghostface, the last thing we need is him getting spooked.”

“I need to get him away from Sam,” She says, chewing her bottom lip, “If he hurts her-”

“We don’t know it’s him, babe.” You say, pressing your hand over Tara’s, rub the back of her knuckles, “Besides, if he is Ghostface, he’s not going to kill her. His beef is with us.”

It doesn’t calm her down. Her knee is still bouncing when she pulls into your parents driveway, grip around thigh so tight it’s starting to hurt. She shuts off the car and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry baby.” She says, voice heavy. Despite the comfort she’s trying to give you, her eyes betray her. Brown, wide, swimming with worry, “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I’m not taking my eyes off you. You’re not going anywhere alone, I mean it. You’ll have to get used to me watching you pee.”

You half think she’s kidding, until she follows you upstairs and into the bathroom.

“Absolutely not.” You say, pressing your hand to her chest and pressing a kiss to her lips, “Wait here.”

“But-”

“Ghostface isn’t hiding in the bathtub, babe.” You tell her, and close the door behind you.

You pause. Check the bathtub just in case.

Your parents make a fuss, like you knew they would. Your mom rushes off to comfort cook, something she does best, and your Dad gets his power tools out, triple checks all the windows and doors for any shaky locks.

If he minds Tara staying the night, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he hovers at the bedroom door, eyeing her up as he reiterates his safety mechanisms.

“Keep the door locked,” He says, voice gruff as you climb onto the bed, next to Tara, “At all times. Front and back. I have a security specialist coming in tomorrow to install some cameras and alarms.”

“Thanks Dad.” You say. It takes the weight of your chest, just a little.

“I’ve got my shotgun loaded and ready to go,” He continues, “If you hear anything- anything at all - just call out and I’ll be here in a moment.”

“Do you have a spare?” Tara asks suddenly, “Gun, that is? I’ll be a little closer, is all.”

He watches her for a moment. That expression is on his face - the one he always wears when he sees Tara. Mild distaste, like he’s just taken a bite of something that’s gone bad. Briefly, you worry he’s going to try to kick her out.

“I can’t give a gun to a kid.” He says, voice curt. Her brows furrow.

“This kid might be the only person who’s able to protect her in time.” Tara challenges, “You’re all the way across the hall. What if he covers her mouth so she can’t cry out?”

“Babe.” You warn, “It’s fine. We’ll be fine.”

Your Dad shifts his weight, staring Tara down. You know he doesn’t like her, it’s written all over his face. But if she goes, so do you. And he understands that, you know he does.

“I have a handgun.” He says, finally. He looks at you, “I’ll give it to YN. Remember those lessons down at the cabin? You’re confident you know how to use it?”

You nod.

When you were younger, your Dad had taken you shooting, taught you how to fire a gun, how to load it - and most importantly, how not to hurt yourself doing it. The thought of drawing out a gun to protect Tara from Ghostface’s knife makes you feel only the slightest bit better.

He looks back to Tara. The distaste is back in his expression.

“It’s for her. You’re not to touch it. Understand?”

You can feel Tara fizzling next to you. Her fingers curl, and before she can give your Dad the dressing down you know she so desperately wants to give, you jump in.

“She understands.” You say quickly, “Thanks Dad.”

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Tara complains, stormy-eyed, when he finally leaves, “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“He’s just being a Dad,” You say, pulling her into your arms and quelling her mood with a kiss, “Don’t take it personally.”

Dinner’s awkward.

Your head is a mess, heart pounding out of your chest every time you think of the looming threat. Tara grips your thigh under the table protectively, as if she’s afraid Ghostface might launch in any second and send the roast laid out on the table flying.

Your Dad glares at Tara. Tara glares back at him. Your mom stares at you, worry in her eyes.

You stare down at your plate, your appetite somewhat dissipated.

“I just don’t understand.” Your mom says for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, “What does he want with you?”

“What does he want with any of them?” You mumble, “He’s a psycho, that’s all.”

You push a rogue potato around your plate, starting to regret the choice to come home. At least Sam’s questions were easily combatted by one of Tara’s swiftly timed jabs. You could hardly expect Tara to snap at your Mom.

“Let’s not talk about it.” Your Dad says, to your relief, “You’re freaking her out.”

“I’m just saying,” Says your Mom, chewing her lip, “Are we sure he was there… for you?”

She lets it hang. The scrape of cutlery against plates stops momentarily, as the entire table takes in the implication. You frown, look up at your Mom.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She says, hurriedly. You don’t miss the glance she sneaks at Tara.

“Seriously?” You say, “You’re blaming Tara?”

“I’m not blaming anyone.” She says quickly, “I’m just saying-”

“Well, don’t.” You snap, standing up, “God. Tell me now if you don’t want us here and we’ll go.”

“Of course we want you here.” Your Mom says, “YN, sit down, please sweetheart-”

“I’m not hungry.” You say, scooting yourself away from the table, “Thanks anyway. Come on, babe, let’s go to bed.”

They don’t protest as you lead Tara upstairs and into your bedroom. You slip your pants off, curl up into bed, take Tara in your arms.

“Your Mom’s right, you know.” She says, after a quiet moment, “None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me.”

“Don’t say that.” You murmur. You press a kiss to her head, wrap your arms a little tighter around her.

“It’s true.”

It is true. But she doesn’t need to think that, not right now. You curl your fingers through her dark hair, scratch her scalp affectionately.

“You-” You hesitate, picking your words carefully, “You’ve made some mistakes. But that’s in the past now. You turned over a new leaf, remember?”

You remember it vividly. The night after Amber’s death, making her swear black and blue she’d never kill again. Promising her she’d never have a reason. She shifts in your arms and looks up at you. There’s something in her eyes. Fear. Hesitance.

“Baby,” She says, biting her lip, “Whoever this person is. I have to kill him. You know that, right?”

Your stomach flips.

“No.” You say immediately, “No, Tara.”

“If he’s alive, he’ll hurt you. You know I can’t let that happen. We can’t turn him in, he knows too much. It’s the only way.”

That sinking feeling is back. The one that had been there when Chase died. The one after Amber and the one after Wes. Like everything is crumbling around you. You squeeze her a little tighter.

“I’ll do it.” You say. The thought makes you sick. The thought of her doing it makes you sicker.

“No, baby.” Tara says. She presses a kiss to your shoulder, “Not after last time. Look at what Wes did to you.”

“I don’t care.” You say, shaking your head, “I don't want you doing it. You can’t-”

Be trusted, is what you want to say. The Rage is terrifying, violent, and you don’t want to reawaken it. You hold it back, pull her closer to you.

“I don’t want that part of you back. I don’t like that part of you.”

Tara’s quiet a moment.

“It’s already back, babe.” She says, pulls your hand to her chest. Her heartbeat is wild, out of control, “Don’t you see? It isn’t killing that prompts it. It’s anybody trying to get to you.”

You’re too tired to fight. Too tired to admit she might be right. At the end of the day if it’s her or him, you know what you’d rather her do.

You lean down, press your lips to hers, try to redirect the conversation.

“You will sleep tonight, right?”

“Not likely.” She admits, her grip on your hips tightening.

“Let’s take it in shifts.” You suggest, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “Half and half so we both get some sleep.”

She nuzzles her nose into the side of your neck.

“Okay. I’ll take first watch.”

She looks towards the handgun your Dad left for you on the bedside table, tugs it carefully over to her side of the bed.

“You know how to use that?” You ask, a little skeptical, “You know to turn the safety off?”

“Yes babe, I know how to use a gun.” She assures, a little irritated you asked.

“Alright, alright. Just checking. The last thing I need is you shooting yourself in the foot.”

“Give me some credit,” She grumbles, “That’s something Chad would do.”

You kiss her, softly, then snuggle down into her chest. Listen to the rise and fall of her breathing, her rampant, crazed heartbeat as it pumps in her chest.

“Remember to wake me.”

She doesn’t wake you, as you should have predicated. When you open your eyes it’s the next morning, and she’s pressing a warm kiss to your lips.

You scrunch your eyes, blink her into view.

“Babe? Did you stay up the whole night?” She kisses your forehead, nudges a warm cup of coffee into your hands.

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. There was no point in me waking you.”

“Baby.” You groan. Her eyes are red, tired. You press your hands to her cheeks, lean up to kiss her.

“You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll nap in science.” She promises, “Mrs. Fletcher is enough to put anyone to sleep. Besides. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

She kisses you again.

“Speaking of: I asked Chad and Liv to stop by with a few supplies.”

She reaches for a paper bag, empties out the contents onto your mattress. You sit up, interest piqued.

It’s nothing less of an armory. You blink, hold up a small metal device.

“A rape whistle and a taser?” You say, “Babe, how am I supposed to take this into school?”

“Keep them in your purse.” Tara says, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request, “It’s not like they check our bags. It’s for emergencies.”

She presses a long kiss to your forehead, “But you won’t need them. I’m not leaving your side. Not for a minute.”

“I have Chem today,” You say, heavily, “And you have English. We can’t be together all the time, Tara.”

“We’re skipping.” Tara says, “I’m taking you home early.”

“Tara, if the school calls my Dad and he finds out I’m skipping classes-”

“He’ll do nothing.” Tara says, fire behind her eyes, “You’re eighteen, he can’t force you home with him. And if he tries then I’ll-”

“You’re not killing my Dad.” You say, firmly. She pouts a little.

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” She says, a little put out, “I’d give him a piece of my mind, is all.”

You sit up, pull her into you.

“Sorry, babe.” You apologize, soothe her with a kiss, “I’m just a little on edge.”

“It’s fine,” She reassures, “Just please keep these on you. Please.”

You agree for her sake.

Word gets out quick.

People stare in the hallways, everyone trying to get a glimpse of Ghostface’s latest victim. It’s unsettling, this much attention. You grip Tara’s hand tight in yours and try to ignore the leering of the other students as she walks you to your locker.

When you reach it, Mindy, Chad and Liv are waiting for you.

“Is it true you saw him?” Chad asks, wide-eyed.

“Is it true he stabbed you?” Liv asks.

You shoot her a look, open your locker and grab your books for first period.

“Does it look like he stabbed me, Liv?” You ask, witheringly.

“Give her some space guys,” Tara says, pushing Liv back slightly, “She’s not a zoo animal.”

“Still.” Mindy says, “You survived a brush with Ghostface. Not many people can say that.”

You ignore the hot flash of dread that zaps through you at the mention of him. He could be anyone. Maybe he’s even here now, watching you. Waiting to get you alone. It must flash through your face because suddenly Tara’s hands are on your waist, rubbing your back reassuringly.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.” Tara says, a little protectively, “Why don’t we meet you guys in Math.”

“Come on.” Mindy says, “Not talking about him gives him power. You don’t know who it is, right? Maybe we can help you figure it out.”

“Maybe it’s you, Mindy.” Liv says, voice sweet, “After all, you’re obsessed with horror movies.”

Mindy looks over, sharply.

“What kind of motive is that?” She says, annoyed, “Besides, I’m not the only one who likes horror movies. Tara does too. Maybe even more than me.”

“So Tara attacked her own girlfriend, that’s your theory?” Chad says, incredulous.

Mindy shrugs, “It’s happened before.”

She turns to you.

“YN, ever get the feeling like Tara wants to kill you?”

“I’m going to kill you in a minute,” Tara growls.

“Yeah.” Mindy nods, like her theory is confirmed, “Major Ghostface vibes.”

“Stop it,” You say, reaching for your Math textbook, “Tara didn’t attack me, she was with Sam. And I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Mindy’s shoulders deflate a little.

“Wes likes horror movies too.” Liv pipes up, “Maybe that’s why he ran away. He wanted us all to think he was dead so he could live his true life as Ghostface.”

You roll your eyes. Let them bicker. As you grab your final textbook your finger catches on something soft. Something you didn’t put there.

It’s a t-shirt, worn, gray, ACDC logo on the front. Your fingers curl around it, brows furrowing. Something hard is within the fabric. You fish it out, turn the cool plastic in your hand. It’s a DVD. Stab 2. Your stomach flips.

You slam your locker shut, white as a sheet. It draws the attention of the entire group. You feel a little dizzy, like you might pass out. Someone had been in your locker. It feels more of a violation than it should. Tara straightens, grips your hand.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She asks immediately.

“Bathroom.” You mumble.

You don’t say goodbye to Tara’s friends. You tug her behind you hard and fast, not sure how much longer you’ll be able to stand upright.

When you reach the bathroom, you slam the door closed, fish out the t-shirt and thrust it towards Tara.

“What’s this?” She looks confused. Flips the t-shirt in her hands.

“It’s Wes’,” You say. You take a heavy breath, try to quell the blood rushing to your ears.

Tara swallows. Her fingers brush the DVD.

“Stab 2.” She says, furrowing her brows, “What is this supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.’ You say, biting your lip, “Nothing good. How did he get into my locker?”

“The school has cameras.” Tara says, thinking fast, “If I can get into the security feed I might be able to see who it was.”

“How are you going to do that?” You ask,

She bites her lip.

“I don’t know.”

“Please don’t get yourself in trouble,” You say, reaching for her hand. You entwine your fingers, “The last thing I need is you getting kicked out of school.”

“I’ll be careful.” She promises. Dips down to kiss you.

Then, she retracts, tosses the t-shirt and DVD in the trash.

“Tara. What are you doing? What if we need that?”

“We don’t need it, babe.” Tara assures, “Ghostface is trying to fuck with us, that’s all. Besides, the last thing we need is for the Sheriff to catch us with Wes’ old t-shirt and one of his movies.”

She pulls you in again, holds you tight.

“Are you going to be okay in class?”

You nod, drop your forehead to her neck. Wrap your arms around her waist. Your hand catches on something in the back pocket of her jeans. You furrow your brow, then tug it out.

“Tara!” You hiss, mouth dropping, “You brought a knife to school?”

Tara blinks back at you.

“Of course I did.” She says, “There’s some lunatic running around. You really thought I wouldn’t come prepared?”

“Baby, if one of the teachers catches you with this-”

“I have it hidden.” She assures, “They’ll never see it. How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t have a weapon?”

You're more concerned with protecting her. There’s a horrible niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like Ghostface has been a little too easy on her so far. The knife in her hand gives you only the slightest reprieve.

“Let’s go to class.” She says, with a kiss to your cheek, “Do you have your rape whistle?”

You shoot her a look, tug at the string around your neck. She’d insisted you wear it at all times.

“Right here, babe.”

“Good girl.” She kisses you once more.

Your fingers curl around the taser in your back pocket. Slip your phone into your backpack and head to class, Tara’s fingers entwined with your own.

You take a deep breath. You're in school. In the middle of the day. Hundreds of students around.

Whoever Ghostface is, he wouldn't be so stupid to attack you in broad daylight.

Right?

next part

#ghostface!tara #all hers #mine #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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8bitsupervillain · 19 days ago

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Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 8 Matsuribayashi pt. 74

Thinking about it I suppose you could probably pinpoint the escalation in action on Tsumihoroboshi. Sure there was the confronting the kidnappers scene in Himatsubushi, but that wasn’t really heavy on the action. Granted a character got shot, but it wasn’t a life-threatening injury. All of the action in Meakashi was limited to a few rather infrequent bursts that didn’t last particularly long. While they don’t really hold a candle in comparison Tsumihoroboshi and Minagoroshi had much more action-filled finales compared to earlier chapters.

Thinking back to the very start of the series I don’t think I could have guessed that the series was going to culminate with a pitched battle between a government death squad and our plucky leads. I very much doubt that when he started the series Ryukishi07 believed that this is where the series would go either. I haven’t finished it, but I do wonder if Higanbana will also end with a massive battle between our protagonists and the massive army of evil and destruction that the villain materializes from the ether? Or Ciconia, if that ever gets it’s second and third entries?

I’m trying not to draw comparisons between Higurashi and Umineko, but I feel I must for a second. I wonder if in order to drum up hype for the new chapters if Ryukishi07 and friends made short story compilations or something like that to tie in to the newest chapter? I seem to recall hearing about small one-off scenarios written to flesh out and expand upon characters in Umineko, so I wonder if something similar was done for Higurashi? Not even necessarily canonical tie-in books, the one for Umineko I can recall most vividly was one involving Boston Jessica and a supernatural death clock (actually a “killer electric fan”). The reason I bring this up is because of the fact that for some reason the visual novel is suddenly playing fast and loose with the story beats it set up for itself earlier in the chapter. At no point before now was there any indication that Rika and Okonogi talked to one another. There was one conversation I can recall them having in Minagoroshi, where Okonogi is trying to sow discord between Rika and Irie by trying to paint him as the one who killed Takano and Tomitake. Other than that however I don’t believe the two ever had any interactions.

Perhaps I’m simply overthinking it, and you can easily handwave away that the pair had talked at some point in Matsuribayashi’s version of the past. But it’s an odd plot point to drop so haphazardly into the narrative at this late stage. Also, it’s just weird that despite only knowing about the threat of the Mountain Dogs for roughly twelve hours, “Mion didn’t underestimate them.” At the risk of sounding pedantic, what sort of secret security hideout is this? It doesn’t have its own generators?

I know that this is a separate timeline/fragment and all, but man could you imagine if Mion had to explain the corpse pit that was at the bottom of this ladder to her friends?

You ever think about how odd it is things that seem so commonplace and make perfect sense today didn’t seem to exist decades ago? Reading the lines about how Mion was basically going down the ladder in pitch darkness got me thinking about those head lights you can buy that’s a flashlight on a headband. Or hell, even how flashlights with some sort of strap on them so you can let it dangle is a relatively new reinvention. There were some around prior to the 2010s but it’s only around then I think they started getting more common.

It’s gotta suck for Irie to have to tackle climbing a ladder so shortly after his thrilling car chase/getting shot at with a machine gun. Guess that’s the resilience of fictional characters, I dropped a pack of paper on my foot and I just want to go lie down and die.

Oh Rika, you’re destined to never ever grow beyond the small child form you have.

I must admit to a certain disappointment that there isn’t any official AK wielding Shion pictures. Also you got to admit that despite apparently being a massive shit bag Okonogi is surprisingly on the ball anticipating a group of teenagers and Irie would somehow just now have smuggled guns at their disposal. I guess Ooishi’s massive public vendetta against the Sonozaki family worked in the gaming club’s favor. You just know that he wasn’t exactly shy about accusing them of having this cache of hidden weaponry to anyone who would listen, or was within earshot.

I have my doubts that Keiichi would be a particularly dab hand at the use of automatic weaponry. Guess there was something to the paranoid theory Rena had in Tsumihoroboshi that the Sonozaki family sent to America that they became expert guerrilla warfare operatives. Sadly there’s no scene in the rest of this chapter in which Kasai, Mion, or Shion are called upon to tackle the equally demanding task of flying a helicopter or operating a radio.

That’s a nice flag that suddenly showed up for Shion don’t you think? Come to think of it, I had a somewhat lengthy thing written about how and why this version of Shion is permitted to interact with the Sonozaki family and not basically live in exile. You know, like she did in Meakashi. However midway through the thought I was suddenly struck with the realization that that’s because this isn’t the same Shion from Meakashi, or indeed the same world as then. It never outright says it, but suddenly this chapter seems awfully dedicated to the idea that you need to be aware that each fragment is its own separately contained world. It acts as a more general “best of all possible worlds” type of scenario, while also planting the idea in your head that despite that idea the other chapters/fragments/etc. all did indeed still happen. To some degree at least.

#higurashi #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi playthrough

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qvid-pro-qvo · 2 years ago

Text

lake day

pairings: friendship fic, though there is established harvard/yale, payback/fanboy, and implied payback/fanboy/bob and rooster/hangman/phoenix.

rating: teen, because with a lake day, anything goes. with alcohol consumption and food mentions!

jake invites all of dagger to a day at the lake, a celebration of sorts after surviving The Mission. various shenanigans ensue, and jake learns the meaning of friendship along the way.

link to ao3.

Jake’s sunglasses slide down his nose, as his arms get thrown up and out at the sight of the group walking towards him. He’s already down a shirt, and if any of them were the betting kind, probably a drink or two in, too.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” he calls out. “Grab a beer, grab a chair!”

“When has anything about him ever been humble?” Rooster murmurs to Phoenix. She snorts and slides her own sunglasses on.

“C’mon, y’all, we all know he loves the attention,” Bob sighs, glancing between the both of them before pulling back to walk in line with Fanboy.

“And the company, even if he denies it,” Coyote says, glancing over the group. His voice gets low. Conspiratorial. “He’s been talking about this for months.”

Everyone had been subject to the texts and the chatter. The repeat invitations after the final Mission debriefs went through. A celebration, Jake had insisted, loudy, until every single pilot said yes.

Payback tosses his backpack into a chair, claiming another one to slump into. “We are in the middle of fucking nowhere, huh?”

“I think that’s just Texas,” Halo shoots back, glancing around. “Your parents own this place?” she asks Hangman.

“Family home,” Jake confirms, gesturing to the massive house. “Feel free to change now, if you haven’t. The boat’s down at the dock —“

“You have your own boat?” Fritz says, mouth open a little as he pushes through the glass doors. The place opens up, a blast of perfect air conditioning hitting them all in the face.

“You have your own dock?” Harvard laughs, peeking inside the grill before turning to the rest of them. “I spy a rich boy.”

“Says the Ivy,” Fanboy retorts, reaching into Payback’s backpack to rummage around for his trunks. “I need a bathroom, Hangman!”

“Seresin’s been holding out,” Yale murmurs to Omaha, who glances around the place with a matching smirk. “Bet the snacks are nice, too.”

Jake lets out a sharp whistle, drawing eyes back toward him. He pushes his sunglasses up and out of his eyes, before giving a bright grin. “Ladies, gentlemen, everything will get settled. For now, grab a beer, grab a snack, and get comfy. Pick out a lifejacket while you’re on it. The S.S. Seresin launches in half an hour!”

—

“I’m king of the world!” Fanboy yells. Again.

Payback laughs. Again.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Coyote sighs. “He’s gonna fall off the damn boat.”

“And he won’t even be the first,” Phoenix agrees, glancing back towards Yale, who has a towel draped limply over his shoulders, Harvard covering his face to hide his laughter. “We’re in the Navy , guys.”

“Hangman made the boat rock on purpose,” Omaha says pointedly. “After Yale ate one of the Oreos.”

“Everyone wants double-stuffed,” Bob says, flipping his clip-on shades down. Payback gives him a thumbs-up, and Bob grins before reclining a bit. “I understand the reasoning.”

Jake smirks back at the two of them. “And I plead the fifth.”

“We haven’t even left the dock,” Rooster points out, looking around at the group. “At this rate, someone’s blacking out.”

Payback glances back toward the house. “With Fritz making the drinks later? Absolutely.”

Halo looks to Harvard with a pout. “No one heard my that's-what-he-said joke.” He gives her a sympathetic fist bump.

—

There’s a begrudging acceptance among the squad that Jake knows how to work a boat. Barely any rough patches, and no one else can match his maneuvers. But there’s another reason they hit the tides early — by the time they make it to where they’re planning on camping out, the place is just starting to get busy. They have it almost all to themselves.

“How we doin’, kids?” Jake calls out from the captain’s chair, and there’s a chorus of “good” and “great” and only one “slow the fuck down, Jake” from Javy with a glare that makes him put his foot on the gas in answer.

But they all survive. They make it. Cheap beers get popped open, the sun gets real high. Sunscreen gets shared and passed around. Smiles and cheers and stories passed around. It’s a while before someone braves the lake water, but then soon they’re all lounging around on floating tubes and life-jackets.

“It’s not the ocean –” Rooster starts, peeking over his sunglasses.

“Of course it’s not the ocean,” Fritz says, raising a brow. “There was barely a beach .”

“Right,” Rooster agrees, sipping on his beer. “It’s not the ocean –”

“It’s not Fightertown, either,” Omaha hums, sunglasses perched on his nose. “Middle of nowhere.”

Rooster nods, smirking as he glances toward Jake. Maybe he can see the way steam is slowly starting to leak out of his ears. “Like I was saying, it’s not the ocean, or Fightertown, or even California, the greatest place on Earth –”

“Is there a but somewhere?” Jake asks, glaring at the three of them.

“Oh, so Hangman’s an ass man,” Phoenix says with a smirk on the other side of the group, glancing toward him. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Anyone who knows him. He’s not exactly subtle, ” Coyote chuckles. He gets a high-five from Payback for the joke. Jake flips them off.

“ But ,” Rooster continues, finally, with another wink up at the captain, “this is pretty fun.”

“Cheers to that,” Fanboy calls out.

“Cheers to us,” Omaha calls out. “To Dagger!”

The drinks lift. “To Dagger!”

It’s their rallying cry.

—

“I’m gonna have water in my ear for weeks,” Halo bemoans, tossing her head back one more time. “How was that only fifteen seconds?”

“Time is different out there on the skis,” Fritz murmurs, eyes wide. “Very different.”

Halo frowns, then reaches out, waves her hand in front of his face. “Concussion protocol?” she asks the group.

“He’s fine,” Jake insists. “The impact’ll wear off. Who’s next?”

Rooster looks determined. Pulls on his lifejacket. “If I die, Maverick gets the Bronco,” he grimly tells the team. He gives a sharp salute. Deep breath in. “It’s been an honor serving with you.”

Phoenix’s leg goes out and kicks, and then Rooster’s yelling and in the water with a sputter.

“Don’t think, just do!” Fanboy yells to him.

Rooster scowls, curls flat on his head. “I think I’m gonna kick your ass, Fanboy.”

"Why me?"

"Because he's scared of me," Phoenix says with a smirk, lifting her drink. "Have a good ride!"

—

The sun starts to sink in the sky, no longer lingering at the highest point. Jake’s shoulders are a bright shade of pink. But he grins at the group around him, sprawled on seats and on the floor of the boat, lazing back and taking in the sun.

“Mickey’s gonna burn,” Jake hears Bob says to Payback. He glances over, watching as he starts nudging the other man with his foot. Payback smirks at the snoozing Fanboy, before nodding to the deck.

“I’ve got aloe in my pack.”

“I left mine on shore — can I share with y’all?”

“Don’t even need to ask.”

Rooster and Phoenix lift from their seats, move toward the captain’s chair before sitting down beside Jake. He smiles at the sight of them behind his shades, then starts the process of taking them back in.

“You still good with grilling?” he asks Rooster, looking back toward the bow. Halo and Yale sit huddled over his phone, while Omaha and Coyote duel Harvard and Fritz in rock, paper, scissors over the last can of beer.

“Sure,” Rooster says, taking a long swig from his can. “As long as I can pick the movie.”

“We’ll throw some options into a hat,” Jake says, “but I promised Phoenix she’d get final say before the fireworks start.”

“You think there’ll be fireworks?” she asks him, brow raised. Her leg crosses over Bradley’s to catch the ray of sunshine beating down on them. “Isn’t there a rule against them?”

“Someone always shoots off fireworks,” he tells them. “It’s summer in Texas. Someone smuggled them in.”

There’s a beat. Jake smirks as he starts up the engine.

“Did you smuggle them in?” Phoenix suddenly says.

“Is it smuggling when they’re already here?”

—

There’s a roar of flame, and Jake winces at the sight of it flaring up through the gaps of the grill. Rooster’s eyes are bright, from more than the drink in his hand.

“Please, please , be careful,” Jake sighs, before speaking through gritted teeth. “That grill is worth more than your rent.”

“What’s that?” Rooster says. Another poke, and some more fire flares up.

Jake grimaces. Takes a step back before shaking his head. “All we need are the burgers to be cooked . So if your eyebrows burn, that’s on you .”

There’s no verbal response, but Rooster winks. What is with him and winking today? Jake scowls before turning away, glancing around the deck as the others mill around.

Phoenix and Halo murmur to each other, mixed drinks dangling precariously from their fingers. Phoenix glances over to Jake, gives him a smirk before murmuring something to Halo.

“Ladies,” he calls out, wanting to put a stop to any gossip that he doesn’t get to partake in. “Having a good time?”

“You’re a good host, Hangman,” Halo tells, lifting her drink. “Thank your mom for us.”

“But don’t let it go to your head,” Phoenix tacks on, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair before tapping her glass. “And tell Fritz to keep ‘em coming!”

Jake bows, deep and dramatic, making the girls chuckle again, before he smirks and moves on.

Coyote, Harvard, and Yale rope him into a game of darts, because they like losing, he supposes. He throws his darts, they throw pieces of fruit at him when he hits the mark every time, and by the end of a round Coyote is waving him away and telling him to go show off for someone else, before turning back to Harvard and Yale and showing off for them himself.

Jake smirks and rolls his eyes before moving to the bar.

Coyote hits a bullseye.

Fritz and Fanboy move in tandem around the makeshift bar as Jake moves up to them. Omaha, Payback, and Bob watch them work, and the television above their heads airs something with a gratuitous shirtless beach volleyball scene. He doesn’t ask where the little umbrellas come from, or what the movie is, instead taking a sip of a drink that looks already made.

“Wait, Hangman -” Payback tries, but it’s too late. Already down the hatch.

“Holy shit,” he gasps out. Chokes a little on the hit of alcohol. Well. More like the gut punch. “Is there any mixer in that?”

“Not yet,” Fanboy says with a smirk. “Fritz puts it in. But I don’t really think it needs it.”

“It needs it,” the three men on the stools say at the same time.

Fritz frowns. “You said my drinks were good!”

“Yours are fine,” Omaha said, nodding toward the backseater. “Fanboy’s taste like gasoline.”

“But good gasoline,” Fanboy retorts, lifting his own drink with a grin. “That high ethanol shit.”

“You’re gonna go blind,” Payback tells him, bringing his hand down so that Fritz can pour some orange juice in his concoction. “Then who’s gonna watch my six?”

“You’ve got two other WSOs,” Fanboy says, laughing before nodding to Omaha and Bob. “Right here, at your leisure. Let me get trashed.”

“You can get trashed and still not burn off all your taste buds,” Bob tells him, and nods to Fritz again.

“Let us treat you right,” Fritz teases. Taking Fanboy’s drink and adding a splash of grenadine, something else that looks like orange juice. Where the fuck did they get grenadine? “Let us help you treat yourself right.”

“You’re all too kind,” Fanboy says, and wipes away a fake tear. “Taking care of me.”

Jake leans down to murmur in Payback’s ear. “Make sure he doesn’t black out too early.”

Payback slaps him on the back. “We’ve got him. Relax. Grab a drink. Sit down.”

“Yeah, your pacing is making me tense,” Omaha tells him, sliding a beer over. “We’re not on the water. We’re grownups. Take off the host hat for a bit. Relax.”

Jake concedes that point. Everyone has eyes on them. Everyone has a buddy. They’re all adults and can manage a few hours of drinking without him keeping watch. And if not, well. His mama made sure the place had nice bathrooms.

“I’m gonna make sure Rooster isn’t burning anything to the ground,” he says, taking the beer.

“Phoenix’ll help you out, I’m sure,” Bob says mildly, smirking.

“What?” Jake asks, brow raised.

“What?” Bob replies. Still smirking.

—

Everyone has full bellies, eventually. Once Rooster stops fucking around and gets some burgers on the grill, everyone is satisfied. Dessert consists of a new drink menu concocted by the self-proclaimed bartenders, and tiny Blue Bell ice creams that everyone takes at least three of.

Everyone is tipsy. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is… here.

Mission accomplished.

“I’ll trade you a chocolate for one of your vanilla,” Harvard says to Yale, who raises a brow.

“I fought hard for this vanilla. Halo almost didn’t let me have it.”

“Just one,” Harvard pleads. “I’ll do the dishes this whole week, for it.”

“… okay. Deal.”

At the bar, Omaha drools a little as his head falls forward, a short nap to regain any energy the sun sucked away. Fritz takes a moment to lazily dab at his mouth, which startles the WSO awake.

He blinks at Fritz. “Wha’sat?”

Fritz snorts. “You drool when you sleep. Just helping you out.”

Omaha blinks. “I’m cute when I sleep?”

“Never mind, you're delirious. Go back to snoozing.”

By this point the sun is almost completely set, but the lights on the deck give them plenty of shine. Jake still has his sunglasses on, perched on his nose as he claims one of the deck chairs and takes another swig of a beer that might be someone else’s.

Suddenly Phoenix seems to materialize beside him. She pokes him on the shoulder. “Hey. That yours?”

When he realizes she’s pointing at the beer, he offers it over without hesitation. She quickly takes a drink, then two before perching on the arm of the chair, her legs warm against his. Hands the beer back.

“You havin’ fun?” he asks, giving a grin. The drink makes his words a little slurred, which just means any G he planned on adding to the end of a word is long gone.

“I can admit when I’m having a good time,” she concedes. He blinks up at her, smiling as she hands him his beer back, almost empty. “Even when it’s your fault.”

“Especially when,” Jake retorts. He gets flipped off for his efforts.

Suddenly Rooster is there, too. On his other side, close enough he can feel heat radiating from his body. “That’s my beer,” he says plainly, and Jake chuckles as he feels Phoenix’s glare.

“You said it was —“

“I said no such thing,” he laughs, and then holds the beer out to Rooster. “Here, take it. I’ve gotta set up the light show.” He starts to stand, but then Phoenix has a hand on his arm.

The beer is removed from his fingers. “Hangman,” Phoenix says, “while I do love a good show, no way we’re letting you around explosives right now.”

“I’m fine,” Jake tells them. “It’s part of the day.”

“The day’s been great,” she retorts. “Trust, people had a good time.”

“Forget the fireworks,” Rooster agrees, nodding around to everyone scattered outside. “Let’s get everyone changed, get settled. It’s winding down, we could do a movie or something inside.” Definitely close enough to nudge Jake with his hip, he does so, gesturing toward the door. “C’mon.”

“But, I said I would,” he tells them, glancing back and forth between them. “Go inside if you want, but there’s so much night left.”

He starts to walk across the deck, bare feet slapping on the wood.

“Jake,” Phoenix shouts, and it makes his neck tingle. He looks up, sees her nod inside. “You did good. We had fun. We’re having fun. Relax. Let’s all… relax.”

He sees everyone, then. Omaha and Fritz chuckling at the bar, tasting a drink back and forth as Fritz adds more insane mixers to it; Payback, Bob, and Fanboy talking around the fire pit, Fanboy’s arms gesturing wildly as the others smile at him; Harvard and Yale splitting their ice creams, half and half and half and half and half; Javy and Halo taking turns throwing darts at a picture of Cyclone.

Rooster and Phoenix, eyes on him, both smiling, both certain.

Everyone is having fun.

“Okay,” he finally says. Hands up in surrender. “Movie night, then. I can dig it. What movie?”

“Cabin in the Woods,” Phoenix says immediately. Rooster recoils.

“You’re insane.”

“Just a suggestion.”

“It’s not even October!”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out,'' Jake interrupts, lifting his hands. “Let’s corral everyone, get ‘em in.”

—

The next morning, as the sun just barely peeks over the horizon, Jake wakes up with a headache, some dry mouth, and a fuzzy recollection.

He doesn’t remember much of the tail end. Remembers agreeing on a movie, remembers popcorn and candy and throwing things at the screen. Remembers laughter and warmth, and then sleep. Hard, hard sleep.

He blinks. Glances around. No one ended up making it to a bed, he realizes, as he takes account of all around him. Payback, Bob, and Fanboy snooze on a few blankets on the floor, cushioned by couch pillows. Javy snores on the loveseat with Harvard and Yale, legs tangled with theirs and his head so far back it looks painful. Halo, Fritz, and Omaha all curl around and on the recliner, secured in place with sheets and well-placed pillows.

And he, somehow, snagged the couch, with Rooster and Phoenix beside him. Rooster’s long frame takes up a good chunk of one side, but his arm stays curled around Phoenix on his left , and Jake realizes that their thighs and tangled legs are serving as his pillow and mattress, hand lightly gripping Phoenix’s calf as his legs take the rest of the cushions.

Her hand is still in Jake’s hair. Rooster’s fingers are on his side.

He looks to the kitchen. Blinks as he remembers his plan. Full breakfast, cooked to perfection, to impress and awe and service the Dagger squadron. To prove something to them, he supposes. To apologize, to show him what he can do.

And then Rooster’s hand squeezes his side as he tries to move. Phoenix whispers something in her sleep.

Everyone else seems comfortable, seems cozy. God forbid Jake disturbs that in a world where good sleep and good friends are hard to come by.

“Relax,” they had said. “You did good.”

He thinks he believes it.

He thinks he can sleep a few hours more.

Then breakfast.

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dissociativesworld · 3 years ago

Text

Patience

Pairing: Wrecker x reader

Tags: little bit of angst, dom!Wrecker, cock warming, sex in the pilot seat (sorry tech), overstimulation, implied squirting, probably some other stuff I'm not thinking of

A/N: I had no idea how to end this so it's a little hasty at the end hope ya'll don't mind. Also no idea if I'm tagging people correctly

Taglist: @4rosydreams @kesshou-otome @cobiwanbanobi

NSFW below the cut

A shower had never felt so good. You didn’t even care that it was cold, after months on that godforsaken planet you were finally home. As one of the few females on base, you got your own room but you also knew that more than likely Wrecker would probably be passed out on your bed once you opened the ‘fresher door.

He hadn’t followed you to your room after the mission like he normally did. Hopefully, it was just because he wanted a shower just as badly as you did. But you also couldn’t help but think it probably had to do with your behavior on the mission which you still needed to genuinely apologize for. You’d lost your temper when he made a risky decision, not following the plan.

“Why can’t you be patient for once?!” You’d shouted at him.

In the few years, you’d known the Batch, you’d never raised your voice to any of them. And definitely not Wrecker even in the past year you’d been dating. It was out of character for you and it startled the entire team. Even Crosshair was shocked. And the look your boyfriend gave you broke your heart. But you didn’t want to admit you were in the wrong in front of them. You just wanted them to be safe and if they thought they’d piss you off by doing stupid shit, then you’d be the bad guy.

You turned the water off before wrapping yourself in a towel, the standard-issue military towel almost too small to cover you properly. Walking through your room to grab your blacks you were disappointed to see that Wrecker wasn’t there. Well, you needed sleep anyway. As you crawled into bed, it felt wrong. Too empty without being snuggled up to the large trooper. Maybe things would be back to normal in the morning.

~~~

The next morning you wandered down the halls of Kamino looking for your squad. Peeking into their barracks you were disappointed to see all of them, minus Wrecker.

“If you’re looking for Wrecker he slept in the Marauder last night.” Crosshair all but growled at you.

You made a face, “what? Why?”

“You really have to ask?” He scowled at you, normally he was pretty neutral toward you but he obviously didn’t appreciate that you hurt his brother’s feeling.

Sighing you doubled back to the hangar. You could see him sitting in the cockpit, a pout on his lips as he stared into space. You walked quietly onto the ship, quiet enough that he didn’t look up as you walked up behind him.

“Is it okay if I join you?” You asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Wrecker glanced up, suddenly having his trademark smile on his face. “Mesh’la, I was just thinking about you.”

He pulled you down into his lap, his half-hard erection emphasizing his words.

“I came to apologize.” You smiled up at him.

He chuckled darkly, “I have a way you can make it up to me.”

You quirked an eyebrow, wondering where he was going with this. His sudden change in attitude with your appearance had you wondering what he was thinking. Granted his smile was a welcome change.

“What did you have in mind handsome?” You asked.

Wrecker pulled you back against him, his cock hard against your ass. He kissed your neck, the other hand pulling your shirt up.

“You realize that anyone can walk into the hangar and see us?” You whispered, now wanting to admit that the thought went straight to your core.

He just hummed in response, his wandering hand moving up to your breasts, squeezing your breast none too gently. You gasped in response, grinding yourself against him.

“I’m going to test your patience sweet girl.” He growled low in your ear.

Your heart was in your throat. Wrecker was one of the most kind-hearted people you knew but since getting to know him a little more intimately you’d learned he wasn’t all soft and sweet. And since he learned you weren’t as fragile as you seemed, he’d enjoyed pushing your limits quite a bit.

“I was plenty patient during that mission mesh’la, considering I wanted nothing more than to lean you over the closest surface and fuck you.” His voice was a low grumble.

You whimpered in response, you could feel your slick soaking your panties.

“Look at you all quiet now, where’s my angry girl?” Wrecker asked as he nibbled on your ear.

Your face was uncomfortably flushed, your cunt was throbbing. Not thinking you moved your hand down to touch yourself through your blacks. Wrecker hooked his chin over your shoulder, watching your movements for a moment before putting his hand over your own.

“I haven’t even started yet cyare, are you sure I’m the impatient one?” His hot breath fanned down your neck before kissing your pulse point.

“Maybe not.” You murmured, leaning back allowing the hand up your shirt to pull it up over your head.

“No bra mesh’la? Naughty girl.” He chuckled, pulling his own shirt off before pulling your back against his chest.

Despite being together for so long you’d never get tired of feeling his muscle-bound body against yours. You could feel every movement against you as he wrapped his arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides, a hand dipping between your legs. His touch was teasingly light, kissing your bare shoulders before biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck, sucking a bruise there.

You whimpered again, squirming in his lap, desperate for more friction.

Wrecker paused his actions. “Don’t draw too much attention to us cyare, you don’t want anyone to see us do you?”

Instead of responding you ground your ass against his cock earning a growl from him.

“Or maybe you do, naughty girl. You want one of my vod to see how riled up I get you? See how good I fuck you?” He bit another spot on your shoulder.

“Please Wrecker.” You whined.

“Pants off, now.” Wrecker all but pushed you off his lap roughly, pulling the waistband of his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.

You pulled your pants down, you’d just barely gotten it below your ass when Wrecker pull you back down onto his lap.

“Giving the rest of them a show mesh’la? Why not just walk the halls naked?” Wrecker growled, hand grabbing your thighs roughly, pulling them apart so that they were hooked over his own.

He pushed your shoulders forward so that your ass lifted off of his lap, with his other hand grabbing his cock and rubbing its head through your folds. You knew you were dripping already, his quiet moans indicating he was enjoying the sight. He pulled you down onto his cock, the thick length spreading you open.

“Take it cyare, such a good girl.” His voice was deep as he reached around you to wrap a hand around your neck just below your chin.

He filled you more than you’d ever been before, you couldn’t move without his cock pressing against a sensitive spot inside you. His free hand went down to your clit rubbing lazy circles. You moved your hips, wanting movement but he stopped you, the grip on your neck tightening and pulling you back roughly. When you swallowed you could feel the strength of his hold.

Again you started squirming, the full feeling of his cock inside you building tension especially as he applies more pressure to your clit. He again tightened his grip, this time pulling your head back to his shoulder.

“I can sit here buried in your pussy all day cyare. I don’t think you deserve to cum after the attitude you gave me on that mission.” His voice was low but you could detect a smirk from him before he kissed your cheek before tilting your mouth to press against his.

“Please Wrecker. I want to feel you cum inside me.” You begged.

“Nice try mesh’la.” He chuckled, fingers against your clit pressing against you roughly.

The building tension was threatening to snap, arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand desperate for release. Wet heat radiated from inside your cunt, you could feel your wetness dripped down his cock and thighs as pleasure shook your core.

“Look at that cyare, squirting everywhere making a mess. You like my fingers and cock that much?” He teased. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”

His hand returned to your clit, now even more tender than before. The crescendo of pleasure building quickly again still riding on the pleasure of your last orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whimpered a chant under your breath as you felt yourself tighten around his cock again.

“That a girl, let go.” He moaned, kissing your neck.

Your second orgasm was more intense than the first, your vision blurring as pleasure flooded your body with the snap. Wrecker’s hips thrust into you with a few shallow thrusts before he moaned loudly, his cock twitching inside you as he came.

You stood on shaky legs to lean against the control panel, needing to get away from the stimulation but unable to stand on your own.

“You okay mesh’la?” Wrecker asked, concern evident in his voice as he gently touched your thigh.

You laughed, trying to brush off his concern. “Yeah, that was just a lot.”

You could hear him shifting behind you, assumably pulling his pants back up.

“C’mere cyare, let me hold you.” He murmured, pulling you back onto his lap, gentler this time.

You snuggled against him, his warm body gone from rigid to soft and comforting. His arms wrapped around you, cradling you to his chest. You two stayed like that for a few moments before you dressed and both of you made your way back to your room before you both passed out in each other’s arms.

#tbb wrecker #wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x you #bad batch imagine #bad batch smut

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bontenten · 3 years ago

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The Choosing

Pairing: Daichi x f!reader (ft. Captain Squad <3 and Sakusa)

WC: 3.2k

Genre/Warnings: Crack/Bad Humor, Smut, Romance, Reverse Harem, Royalty AU!, mention or hints of size kink, exhibitionism, creampie, breeding kink, dick and ball worship, you’re perverted and gross

Summary: You are the Princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym and you need to choose a husband.

Repost from my main because I say so. Lee... :gru: i miss u

Also, no beta we die like Daichi.

It’s a tradition carried through many, many generations that the daughters of nobility from the Kingdom of YoreNaym must choose a suitor from the eligible bachelors from the neighboring kingdoms. It’s a show of kinship to the other kingdoms and also a means of securing peace.

At some point, everyone’s sister’s cousin’s second uncle’s sworn brother’s adopted daughter’s nephew twice-removed will be related and connect back to the Kingdom of YoreNaym. In short, the blood of this kingdom’s daughters unite the lands. No incest, there’s enough genetic diversity, if you will. And because you are also a princess of this kingdom, it’s your turn. Yay.

While growing up, you hear the elders say that the youngsters should be grateful that they have the agency to at least pick a suitor. They spin their looms and cackle, reminiscing that, “Back in our days, we didn’t get to have a choice. Our elders appointed a spouse for us from whichever kingdom had a suitor. Unlike you girls who get to choose, ungrateful wenches…”

Does it really matter? It’s just the false pretense of choice, isn’t it? At the end of the day the selection of eligible bachelors are all chosen ahead of time, deemed worthy, and then after the initial picking, you are just allowed to pick. It doesn’t matter who you choose, any one of them will fit the criteria. Maybe you’ll just close your eyes and pick one randomly. Can you actually say, “I’ll choose my own hand and marry myself.”

That’s pretty brave, hell yea that’s a main character move right there. Speaking of which, who are the eligible bachelors you can choose from today? It’s practically your engagement day, yet you really haven’t been paying any attention at all.

“Hey,” you whisper, lifting the curtain of the palanquin. A maid quickly answers to your beckon.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Who are the candidates today again? You have a...list or brochure of sorts?”

“Just a moment, my lady, I’ll retrieve the scroll for you.”

You open the scroll and peruse the contents. Huh, all the neighboring kingdoms are going all out this year. There’s the Kingdoms of Nekoma, Inarizaki, Fukurodani, Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa...Wow, even Johzenji and Nohebi have candidates? Funny, all of these are all presenting their crown princes too. As they should, you are the most beloved princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym, and the suitor you choose will bring you back as a blessing to his kingdom. It’s a total bummer that the Kingdom of Itachiyama isn’t participating this year. Sakusa’s crown prince succession is next year! You have heard so many swoon worthy stories about that princeling, even paid handsome amounts of money for paparazzi paintings of the beautiful man. No one will find out that the princess of YoreNaym actually hoards little pictures of Prince Sakusa in her panties drawers. It’s a shame you aren’t picking your husband next year.

There’s one more Kingdom on the list that surprises you. Kingdom of Karasuno, or more commonly referred to as the Kingdom of “Fallen Crows”. According to legends, they used to be quite a prosperous kingdom, but after a few generations of inept leadership, a drought, and poor trade economy...the Kingdom has mostly faded into obscurity. It’s been years since a suitor candidate has been offered. So who is it?

“Sawamura Daichi,” you whisper to yourself, “Interesting.”

The festival ground outdoors is especially grand. There are a huge number of tables prepared off to the side for guests. Trays of food, fruits and wine are provided for every single guest in attendance. You are led by the attendants to the temporary throne seat as the guest of honor. As you make your way to the throne, all the guests stand up to acknowledge your entrance. It’s so pressuring and a part of you wishes you can just dig a hole and bury yourself on the spot. You don’t even want to think about how many eyes are on you. They are all just jealous because, really. Take my word for it, I’m the narrator.

When you take a seat, the guests reseat themselves. A shaman comes to the center stage and bows to you.

“My lady, the time is auspicious, let us commence the Festival of Unity. At this time, I’ll be introducing the eligible bachelors from neighboring kingdoms near and far. They have passed the arduous tests and come as the best to offer in asking for your hand. Each of the suitors will present to you with a talent or skill, as to show you their excellence. After the demonstrations, you will be allowed to take your pick. Whereupon you will—”

“Okay, I get it! They will participate in a talent show, we clap, and I choose a husband, I got it!” You snap, cutting the shaman’s words off. Your patience is wearing thin.

A number of guests can be heard mumbling in the crowds, probably commenting on your behavior. Your eyes scan the guests, you can care less. Judgmental eyes, scheming eyes, lecherous eyes, disgusting eyes....Your gaze meeting with a pair of eyes that are absolutely blank. Wait, not blank as in emotionless. Non-judgemental? The opposite of unkind? Dare you say, polite? He gives you a smile and returns to taking a sip from his goblet. You scan his clothing up and down to look for his family crest. Black and orange. A crow. Karasuno.

Your thoughts are jumbled as an increasing amount of questions fill your mind. He? Karasuno? That Kingdom of Fallen Crows? You barely hear the shaman announce the first candidate.

“Bokuto Koutarou from Kingdom of Fukurodani.” Bokuto is a very large, very well built man. He is wearing his family crest of an owl across his back proudly. You can tell his chest is incredibly broad, the bulge of his big tiddies stretch the tight shirt he’s in. If you squint hard enough, you can maybe see the outline of his nipples through the training shirt, but maybe that’s just your perverted imagination too. Bokuto comes to the center stage and greets you.

“Hey! I’ll uh, demonstrate my strength to you, my lady.” He easily picks up a huge hunk of metal and lifts it with ease above his head. Damn beefiness, those arms of his. Seeing the bulges flex when he flexes has you dreaming of mouth along that delicious flesh. And when he pins you down under his massive body? Ooh, if this is the first demonstration, you’re excited to see the whole lineup today. Gasps and murmurs can be heard in the crowd. Bokuto grins and drops the load on the ground. You can almost feel the tremors beneath your feet. Truly, a herculean feat.

“Thank you, Bokuto, I have seen your demonstration and all those here are witnesses.”

Bokuto’s demonstration is a showy start of the competition for your hand. The shaman announces the next candidate. “Ushijima Wakatoshi from the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa.”

Ushijima walks up to the stage exuding the regal aura of nobility; a byproduct of his strict upbringing. The twin crests of an eagle decorate his shoulder pads. His expression is quite cold, but there’s a saying, “it’s always the quiet ones.” You lick your lips and study him some more.

“Greeting to the princess,” he says with a deep bow. “I also bring a demonstration of my martial prowess.” Ushijima takes off the bow and quiver of arrows from his back and nods at his attendant who then catapults three apples high up into the air. Everyone’s eyes follow the trajectory of the objects, squinting to see what’s happening. No way.

Ushijima draws the bow back and calmly shoots one arrow, perfectly spearing the three fruits along the shaft. The crowd bursts into cheers. You also find your tight grip on armrest loosening, the tension from the scene dissipating in a moment. Ushijima’s calmness, accuracy, decision-making...he would make a very suitable partner for sure. Co-workers of sorts, that is.

You know your marriage carries a lot of weight politically and the fate of the whole universe will rest on your decision. Maybe not the whole universe, but close enough. But, marital bliss is important too right? Is Ushijima the right choice? There are still many more candidates, it’ll be best not to make a rash decision. Your gaze wanders over back to the Karasuno prince who is clapping earnestly for Ushijima’s performance. He’s acknowledging a rival’s strength, you think to yourself. Well, that’s certainly a rare but admirable trait. A confident man, he is.

After Ushijima’s demonstration, Oikawa Tooru’s enchanting musical performance offers a much desired change of pace. The rhythm and melody from his zither carries both the energy of fortitude as well as a graceful spirit. Quite stunning, but just not quite the musical vibe you’re feeling at the moment. Bummer, maybe a different day, really. Could be friends?

Kuroo Tetsurou from the Kingdom of Nekoma offers a particularly memorable performance too. Kuroo comes to the center stage with a trough filled with flames. Everyone is at a loss as to what is going on. Kuroo flashes you a grin before taking out a few pouches containing some powders. In a poof, the flames burst alive with colors blending blues and purples. And moments later yellows and greens, even reds. No one has ever seen fire change color like so.

“Witchcraft!” someone gasps.

“No it must be alchemy. Dangerous craft,” another adds.

Kuroo bows to you. “My lady, this is called chemistry, a discipline of science.”

Kuroo’s smiles teeter on the edge of flirtations and you cannot deny that your heart flutters just slightly when you see his crooked grin. He’s intelligent, humorous, and attractive. Definitely also a contender. A union with him might be fun. And especially when you see Kuroo run a hand through his messy, black locks and give you a piercing gaze, you almost wonder if this is the feeling of chemistry. It feels like you are naked under his seductive, golden eyes, completely submitted to his will and absolutely drugged. And you fear that if he sends you another one of his grins, you’ll come untouched. Dangerous, send him off immediately.

“Thank you, Kuroo, I have seen your demonstration and all those here are witnesses.”

After Kuroo, many more candidates also come to the center stage for their demonstrations. Kita Shinsuke from the Kingdom of Inarizaki composes and recites poetry on the spot. His literary talents and mastery of public speech move a very large crowd of the literati officials. Kita is a charismatic leader and commands confidence. But he doesn’t seem to be the best fit. Your brain says ‘yes’, but your coochie just isn’t feeling it. The nerve signals say no.

Terushima Yuuji demonstrates a one-man comedy show, but his storytelling skills, although humorous, fall just a little short after Kita’s. Had Terushima been slotted for a different position, perhaps he would make a stronger impact.

Daishou Suguru. Interesting. But tongue itself will eventually get boring too.

A few more candidates demonstrate their talents to you. Most of them fail to impress you at all. Your blank expression is more than enough to make a few almost shit their pants or cry on the way they exit the stage. It’s really not their fault, you’re just a bit tired after seeing so many performances and demonstrations. You are just trying to find the best fit after all. It’s your duty and responsibility as the muthereffing princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym.

“Sawamura Daichi from the Kingdom of Karasuno.”

The crowd is silent as Daichi stands up from his seat and makes his way to the center. His shoulder is relaxed and his head is held high. He doesn’t have the large build of Bokuto nor is he decked out in regal fabrics like Ushijima. His hair is simple and clean. His expression is polite and pleasant. Amongst the sea of beautiful and talented men, Daichi is like an ordinary seashell buried in the sand. But like how too many bites of dessert beckon the simplicity of water, Daichi’s humble presence makes him stand out in particular.

Daichi bows deeply. “I send my deepest regards to the princess. I am Sawamura Daichi from the Kingdom of Karasuno.”

“Please rise, Sawamura. What demonstration do you bring to me today?”

“My lady, I have nothing showy in particular. I only bring myself. And please feel free to call me Daichi.” You can feel his piercing gaze on you, confident and assertive. So he has some guts. It beckons you to submit, but you bite back. Grrrrr.

“Just yourself? That’s quite cocky of you Daichi. Others bring talents and demonstrations of qualities that make them fit as my suitor. What do you have to offer for me to choose you? Or is that something you are not looking for at all?”

“Karasuno,” Daichi begins, “Karasuno is a good kingdom. For many years long ago, our people have suffered greatly and we have gained a poor moniker. However, for the last few years, the kingdom has made significant progress and improvements. Alongside my brethren and officers of my court,” Daichi gestures to his entourage sitting off to the side, “We have come a long way. ”

“You tell me much about your home, Daichi, but what about you?”

Daichi pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. He is well aware of the pressures you are putting on him, testing his convictions to the limit. You are a princess after all, so it’s only natural that you test his qualifications. Diachi swallows his nerves and faces your confrontation head on.

“I come to tell you the truth, my lady. I cannot hide these facts about myself or my kingdom. I am truthful, honest, but I have an unshaken belief that my kingdom will prosper because I have my closest and trusted with me. Each of them have their talents and strengths. Karasuno is a band with a bit of everything, and we’re family.”

You inwardly sigh. It seems like Daichi won’t be completely living up your hopes. At first you thought that his confident yet humble demeanor must hide something. Something incredible, because he can sit back and freely applaud other men for their talents. Something remarkable because he doesn’t feel the need to jump out in front of others. Something big. Very big.

“I don’t doubt your family’s bond or strength, but I am here to choose a suitor, a husband in layman's terms. So, I suppose that—”

“Wait,” Daichi cries out, and gestures towards his Karasuno brethren.

A tangerine head jumps up and brings out a scroll. He skips a few steps towards you and passes the document over to the shaman who brings it to you.

“My resume, if you will, my lady. I have no other talents but what is shown there.”

You glance at Daichi, studying him closely. From his clenched fist, you can tell that even in this moment, he’s a bit shaken and nervous. You undo the ties on the scroll and unravel the contents.

All eyes are fixed on you, trying to decipher every microexpression you make. The slight widened eyes, the twitch of the brow. The slight part of the lips and the deep breathes from you trying to calm the invisible fire that’s building in your core. It’s big. If the resume is accurate, Daichi’s demeanor truly is hiding a beast. A massive, humongous, schlong. Finer than any specimen you have seen in banned pictorial books you read and hide under your massive princess bed.

The sheer size and girth of the XL 2d image is rendered in X-TRA fine detail. You brush a finger onto the parchment, tracing the lines depicting the veins running along the shaft. You gulp, rubbing your finger down what is drawn as a big, swollen tip that’s glistening. Artists these days are so detail-oriented, it looks as if precum is just dripping from the tip and shimmering. So realistic, you just want to take it all into your mouth. To gag or to choke. Neither are a question.

The balls, those massive balls that are the storehouses for an endless supply of fresh cum. Organics from the finest the kingdom has to offer. Precious jewels hanging at the base, ripe for your licking. It looks so juicy and plump and you want nothing more than to rub your cheeks, cooing at how cute they are.

You know it’s good. It better be good if the painting is depicting something this sumptuous. If this is the real deal, then you really have nailed the jackpot and secured a brilliant future for yourself. Marital bliss. Bedroom adventures. Bedroom adventures where he’ll fulfill every nightmarish fantasy you ever have. It’ll be hard at first, your cunt’s so tight and he’s so big! But it’s okay, you’ll take him like the royal princess you are because the Kingdom of YoreNaym raises whores and sluts only!

No scratch that. Coital activities can take place anywhere. Maybe you’ll cockwarm him while the two of you hear what the morning court has to say about the affairs of the kingdom. Maybe you’ll find yourself tumbling around in the garden after a cute game of hide and seek, skirt hiked up, as he fucks a grass stain into your back! Okay. That might not be the best idea. Perhaps just once. For novelty’s sake.

But hear me out, when you are sneaking into the kitchen for some snacks, he’ll pin you on the large baker’s table and just take you right there to fuck his babies into your womb. His cock pumping into you as the table creaks and shakes from his thunderous movements. He’ll fill you to the brim with copious amounts of his hot cum, heaps and heaps of them, just like the baker fills the buns with cream custard in the most obscene fashion ever. Watch your belly rise and bulge up like pastries in the oven. Oooh cummies.

You sigh and squirm in the seats as you continue examining the masterpiece of a dick. You feel your heartbeat racing wildly as if you are caught tinkling in the castle fountain. It’s unknown if you ever did that, by the way. Just saying, your memory is failing you just a tad. But oh gosh, you’re wet already. The slick pooling between your folds is just soaking through your princess panties; the ones in the drawer where you keep all your secret prince Sakusa drawings heehee. But Sakusa’s pretty face aside, you are now face to face with the most magnificent dick pic you’ll ever receive. Not really unsolicited, but damn work of art. Literally.

The crowd is silent when you clear your throat and roll up the scroll, taking extra care to not let anyone else touch your new precious treasure. You lean forward and perceive Daichi. Daichi gives you a cocky grin, showing his teeth. Slightly stained with the wine, but it’s just temporary. It doesn’t matter as long as the real deal is...well, real.

Daichi catches your eyes wandering to the outline of the bulge between his legs. The glorious dickprint that he’s casually showing to everyone present. It puts Herculean Bokuto to shame, Ushijima into a blushing mess. Kuroo nearly snorts his colored powders. Daishou’s tongue hangs out and dries. Oikawa is sent to the medics. Kita no longer waxes poetry about the weather. Terushima leaves the party early.

Daichi is smug and casually asks, “My lady, would you like to examine the goods? I am a pure man and would not carelessly offer tastes to anyone. But you are a princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym. You can have a sampling before you commit. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #daichi smut #daichi x reader smut #daichi x reader #did y'all see kazooli's post on fetishizing fictional men and their fictional dicks and balls?#this is my answer #forever a princess of yorenaym #you can be too if you want #emi.freshtea #ch daichi #🍵.daichi

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breathings-of-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--” 

The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

“Hello, Levi.”  

~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.  

Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.  

To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.  

“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”  

“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).” 

The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--” 

“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.

 He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.” 

He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.  

You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  

“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai

#snk #AoT #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #lance corporal levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk levi #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader #attack on titan imagines

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realcube · 4 years ago

Text

their team reacts to seeing them with hickeys/back scratches 💫

characters: kageyama, akaashi & kita

tw// fem! reader, sexual references, swearing, blood

kita tw// mentions of daddy kink, punishment, overstimulation - MINORS DNI

KITA’S IS AGED UP!!

thank you anon for the request 💗

Tobio Kageyama

he was on tanaka’s team for game amongst karasuno and he watched his senpai take off his shirt and wave it around after they scored another point

but instead of putting the shirt back on, he kept it off bc he was too lazy to go get it since he threw it to the other side of the gym

then noya took his shirt off too bc he was sweating buckets

but kageyama wasn’t really sure why they had their shirts off so he felt the need to ask

‘why aren’t you putting your shirt back on?’

noya was just kinda like ‘who are you, my mom?’ but tanaka gave him a straight answer which was ‘it helps with ✨ aerodynamics✨’

kageyama isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed so he doesn’t even know what aerodynamics are

but then he watched tanaka make a killer spike and he was sold

shirt = off

aerodynamics = thriving (?)

sets = awesome

back scratches = exposed 😳

hotel = trivago

tsukishima was the first one to notice ofc as he was positioned right behind kageyama

he didn’t say anything tho bc yamaguchi was on the opposite team so he just had to snicker to himself

hinata was like ‘what’s so funny, stinkyshima?!’ bc he automatically assumed that tsukishima was laughing at him lol

but then he followed tsukki’s gaze and leaned back to look at kageyama’s back too

‘yeesh, man. you should probably put some aloe vera on that or something, it could get infected.’

AIUWRAFHBE ok ok hinata isn’t completely oblivious to the connotations of back scratches but he’d never think in a million years that kageyama would get laid so he kinda subconsciously ruled that possibilty out-

kageyama quirked a brow, ‘what?’

‘your back! it’s all mangled.’

then noya and tanaka ran over and fkn BURST OUT LAUGHING

at this point, all of kageyama’s team was surrounding him while the other team waited patiently for them to serve

but after a while, it was clear that they weren’t gonna do that so suga - who was on the opposing team - strolled over to see what they were all laughing about

and when he saw it- bitch- he went red

a cool mom so he probably made a suggestive remark as he walks away

it eventually got to the point where everyone in the gym was crowded around kageyama and for ease, i’ll categorize their reactions:

laughing their ass off ➵ tsukishima, tanaka, nishinoya, coach ukai & yamaguchi

concerned and confused ➵ yachi, takeda, hinata & narita

a blushing mess ➵ asahi, kinoshita & sugawara

unfazed 😐 ➵ kiyoko & daichi

LIVID ➵ kageyama

‘WHY DO YOU ALL CARE SO MUCH ABOUT MY BACK?!’

kageyama could literally break his neck and walk into practise with a neck brace and no one would bat an eye but now that he has scratches on his back, suddenly everyone is so concerned about his wellbeing? where with this energy that time he said that hinata gave him a concussion?

to be fair, he didn’t have a concussion- also, he forgot the word so he told suga that hinata gave him a ‘conclusion’

daichi agreed, trying to usher everyone back to their spot on the court, ‘yeah, it’s no big deal, guys. let’s get back to practise.’

everyone slowly made their way back to where they were previously but since tanaka and noya were still on kageyama’s team, they continued to pry

tanaka flung his arm around kageyama’s shoulders, ‘so how’d you get those scratches, big boy?’

an ungodly laugh left noya’s mouth

kageyama shrugged, ‘(y/n), i think.’

the whole gym room went silent before erupting in choruses of laughter once again

‘WELL YOU AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND NEED TO CALM DOWN THEN!’ tanaka wheezed

kageyama was truly the idiot that didn’t understand the implications of the back scratches - so you can imagine that he was frustrated when everyone started laughing again

‘what’s so funny?’ but then, he recalled the events which he was pretty certain were the reason for the marks on his back......it was pretty funny

you insisted on giving kageyama a back massage after a long day of practise so he took his shirt off and let you go for it

for the record, he really loved it :)) he was just so happy sitting there between your thighs as you sat on the couch and rubbed his back, loosening all the knots he didn’t even know he had

but then he got a lil’ inch on his back and was like ‘can you get that for me?’ since your hands were already on his shoulders/back

ofc you said yes and started lightly scratching the spot he desired, but being extra careful bc you just got you nails done in the stiletto shape and the last thing you wanted to do was puncture his back lol

‘harder..’ kageyama muttered so low that you almost didn’t hear him

you obliged, pressing a bit harder

‘harder.’ he insisted once more

again, you served by digging your nails in a bit deeper

‘harder.’

‘no, kags. i’ll literally pierce your skin if i press any harde--’

‘harder!’ he barked (for a joke) and you jumped from fright, instinctively pushing in more and increasing the pace of your hand

at this point, you were rigorously clawing at his back, on the verge of drawing blood which you could tell by his skin’s newfound crimson pigment

kageyama took it upon himself to lean backwards onto your nails to force you to go rougher as you had yet to ease his itch

then you let out a high-pitched scream so naturally, kageyama jerked away then peered over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t like..died

‘what?!’ he asked, eyes filled with worry

‘blood!’ you yelled, pointing at his back before sprinting to the kitchen to get a tissue

kageyama’s gaze followed you until you were out of sight, then he lightly touched his back around the parts you were scratching and once he pulled his hand away, he noticed the blood which was now on his fingers

‘oh.’

the concerning part was that he didn’t even feel it tbh 🤔

anyway tanaka and noya probably coo ‘oooh~ lovebirds~’ when you come pick him up from practise

Keiji Akaashi

bokuto heard some ppl whispering about akaashi & (y/n) in the changing room so he turned around to take a look at his friend then he noticed the scratch marks on his poor friends’ back

‘AKAASHI!! DID YOU GET MAULED BY A BEAR?!?!’ he screamed, grabbing the attention of everyone in the changing room and those who weren’t whispering about akaashi before, were definitely doing so now

akaashi smiled softly and shook his head, hastily throwing on his shirt and buttoning it up as he spoke, ‘no, bokuto-san.’

bokuto quirked a brow, wondering what could’ve possibly happened before his jaw dropped to the ground

‘is it ‘cause i patted your back a bit hard earlier?!?!?’

akaashi didn’t even bother to question how bokuto could think that a slap on the spine could lead to scratch marks and instead just replied normally, ‘no.’

bokuto was stumped once again- why else would his buddy have marks on his back? and why was (y/n) such a prominent name floating around in this changing room? doesn’t everyone know that she is taken by bokuto’s best-bro akaashi?

....

WAIT

bokuto’s jaw hung open once again as his soul left his body through an overdramatic gasp, before leaning in and whispering in akaashi’s ear, ‘wait- don’t tell me- you and (y/n)-’

akaashi’s cheeks tinted red slightly so he turned his head away while he pulled on his blazer, ‘no.’

bokuto let out a light sigh of relief, gently patting his pal’s back, ‘ah, good. but then, where did those marks come from?’

before akaashi even got the opportunity to open his mouth to respond, komi and konoha passed the pair, konoha patting akaashi’s shoulder and komi shot him a toothy grin accompanied by a thumbs-up, ‘get some, akaashi.’

then they walked off, konoha mubbling something about his chances with (y/n) being ruined

this left both bokuto and akaashi extremely confused

once all traces of komi and konoha were gone, akaashi proceeded to explain himself

‘backne is a horrible thing.’ he murmured, grabbing his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder before strolling out the changing room. ‘i’ll wait for you outside.’

and bokuto just stood there like (。_。) ‘what’s backne?’

Shinsuke Kita

atsumu had invited the whole squad back to inarizaki for one last game before coach kurosu’s retirement

after ages of arrangement, the whole team were able to make an appearance at the game - whether that be for 10 minutes or the whole thing

kita was able to stay for the whole thing

he was currently warming-up while chatting with aran before he was approached by atsumu, who was as lively as ever

‘mister rice farmer! it’s good to see you again!’ he sung, tossing his arm around kita’s shoulder and patting it in a friendly manner, ‘how’s life been treating ya?’

kita and atsumu somehow managed to make small-talk as if they hadn’t been apart for the last 6 years

‘me and my girlfriend have only been together for 6 months but i think i’m ready to settle down.’ atsumu mused, tapping his elbow before realising that he had been talking about himself for a while, ‘but anyway, i see that you and (y/n) are still going strong. haven’t y’all been together since the first year of highschool? that’s impressive! when are you gonna wife her up?’

kita perked up upon hearing that, ‘uh, yes. but how do you know that?’

atsumu couldn’t help but smirk, casually running a hand through his hair before motioning to the hickey on kita’s neck which was on semi-display, ‘right there, bud.’

kita looked down but unfortunately, his neck didn’t bend enough to see what atsumu was referring to

‘also,’ atsumu chuckled, slightly embarrassed about what he was going to admit ‘i saw the pic of her you put on your facebook.’

‘ah, okay.’ that one kita could understand

atsumu was about to open this mouth to say something but then the shrieking noise of the coach kurosu’s whistle rang through the gym room, indicating the start of the match

the game went surprisingly smooth tbh

minimal fights :o

but kita did get teased quite a lot smh

anyway, after everything was all said and done and everyone started to filter out the gym, kita rushed to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror and see what atsumu was referring to on his neck

once he took a look at himself, he frowned

just as he thought, a hickey - that’s embarrassing

it was clear you made an effort to place hickeys in areas that would be hidden though as the bruise was barely peeking out from under the collar of his jersey, atsumu just has a rather keen eye

however, that wasn’t going to stop kita from pounding you dry when he gets home - as a punishment ofc

kita was about to leave but he couldn’t help but stay and stare at himself in the mirror for a bit longer, recalling last night as he wondered at what point you bit those onto his neck

was it during the 2nd round? or the foreplay? or perhaps the 4th round? wait- no- definitely during aftercare cuddles!..or actually, maybe the 1st round?

in all honesty, he couldn’t remember

to him the whole night was a blur of pounding into you relentlessly, overstimulation, pleads for mercy, tears, passionate kisses and praise

with a sprinkle of daddy kink but let’s not talk about that

oh, and not to forget the way you’d call out his name just as you were about to reach your orgasm

or your sweet, lewd whines that echoed through the room when he thrashes against your sensitive spot

and don’t get him started on the cute little nicknames you have for him that squeal out through moans, like ‘daddy’, ‘master’, ‘sir’ etc

kita snapped out of his fantasies, letting out a sigh and about to exit the bathroom- until he noticed himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye

he was hard

smh smh smh

now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place

(literally 🤠)

he could either potentially embarrass himself or cause an accident by walking to his car and driving home with a throbbing boner

or he could call you to help him jerk off in a bathroom stall

so he took a seat in one of the stalls - for the sake of the ppl he might run over if he did otherwise

he rung you up and thankfully, you picked up and you weren’t feeling bratty enough to deny him the help he needed so badly

although it wasn’t a very pleasurable experience since he was constantly on hyper-alert just in case the janitor walked in, at least he got a lot of nostalgia from it :))

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years ago

Text

You Light The Spark In My Bonfire Heart

Kyle Rayner x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I HAVEN'T HAD ANY WIFI ALL DAY BUT NOW I DO AND this is my new obsession and pair and you can tear it from my cold dead hands. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Kyle had an easy morning routine: get up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, workout, shower, drink protein shake, and draw. It was simple and effective, and helped him maintain a sense of normalcy that he didn’t always have when he was up in space. He typically started out with sketching small things, mostly faces and limbs from memory, the occasional suit redesign, then he’d get into the bigger works, drawing comic panels and the commissions he had. And while Kyle loved to be up in space, to be a Green Lantern, drawing felt like coming home to him, like it was the natural state. That being said, he didn’t love being interrupted when he was in the middle of something important—it was bad for the groove.

***

As the second round of knocking sounded on his door, Kyle grunted and stood from his desk, padding through the hallway to his front door; he flicked the lock and pulled open the door, surprise etching across his face when he saw the eldest Wayne leaning against the door frame—rather cockily, Kyle added, because the soldier’s arm was propped on the frame, the other stuck in the side-pocket of his dark tactical bomber jacket.

“Good morning, Kyle,” he greeted with a smirk. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

The Lantern blinked, shaking his head. “Uh, no, you’re not, (Y/N).” he looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Had some business to take care of for my dad, and since I was in the area, I figured I’d drop by and see if you wanted to get some lunch with me.”

Kyle took a moment to lean out the doorway slightly, looking down the stretched hallway. “How’d you know where I live?”

“Please, a magician never reveals his secrets,” he deflected coolly, gazing at Kyle. “What do you say? Wanna get some lunch? I know a really good sports bar that serves great food.”

He looked back at (Y/N) and smiled. “Yeah. Let me go get dressed.”

The soldier merely winked in return and with fumbling hands, Kyle managed to shut the door before his cheeks burst into flames, hurrying back to his bedroom to pull together an outfit that would impress the man.

***

Kyle almost dropped to his knees when he saw the car parked outside his apartment building, and (Y/N) knew it too, because he chirped, “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

He nodded dumbly. “Is this a McLaren 720S?”

“Mhm.” He opened the doors and slid into the driver’s seat, looking through the passenger door. “Coming?”

“Am I ever,” Kyle breathed, climbing into the seat, immediately running his hands along the dashboard and seat. “I’m in love.”

“Wait till you hear her purr,” (Y/N) said, closing the doors, and pushing the ignition. The sports car roared to life and he grinned at the way Kyle’s face melted. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He put the car in drive and looked through the side mirror, then pulled out onto the street.

“Is this one of your dad’s cars?”

“Nah, I bought this for myself a couple months ago.” He pulled the sunglasses from his t-shirt and put them on. “This and an Audi TT.”

Kyle huffed a laugh. “Jesus, you billionaires live it up, don’t you?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Hey, I live life in the fast lane. Might as well drive in it too.” He pushed a button on the touch screen and music filtered through the speakers, and Kyle’s face pinched in confusion. “What?”

“This isn’t—James Blunt isn’t the music I figured you’d play.”

“What’d you think I’d be listening too? Rock?” he chuckled, turning the volume down a bit. “Don’t get me wrong, I listen to all kinds of rock music, but I figured you’d want something easy rather than head-bang your brains out rock.” (Y/N) stopped at a red light and glanced over. “You can look through the artists on my phone if you want.”

Kyle shook his head, relaxing into the seat as the melody flowed through him. “No, I like this artist.” The soldier merely smiled in return, pressing the gas pedal again, and Kyle suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of artist, I saw the canvas in your bedroom the other day. Do you draw?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Not like you. It’s more of a pastime than a lifestyle.”

“You’re good at it. You’re painting your family in their suits. Details and designs included.” The artist regarded him with impression. “That takes skill.”

“I’d like to think I just have a steady hand and a lot of patience for stressful tasks.” (Y/N) turned the wheel, coming up behind a line of cars. “It’s an easy way for me to relax and mentally run through past events.”

“Like what?” Kyle questioned curiously.

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, but not in a loathing way, more of a thoughtful one. “Missions, conversations, things I could’ve done differently, things I will do differently.” He shrugged again. “Painting for me is just a time when I think about everything and nothing.”

“Well, you’re great at it, (Y/N).”

He snorted. “It’s just a bunch of paintings of my family and friends and military shit.”

Kyle blinked and leaned over. “Wait, is that painting in the den—”

“The one of the F-18 Super Hornet?”

“Yeah. You painted that?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. I got Hal Jordan to take me up in one a few years ago and decided to commemorate the trip.”

“Wow,” the Lantern breathed. “I stared at that canvas for at least an hour the first time I saw it. I was just so blown away by how amazing it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And to find out, you drew it and not some world-famous painter.”

“Hey, I could be world famous if I wanted.” (Y/N) shot back, turning onto a less busy backstreet. “I just choose to retain my talents for family and friends.”

“Because of your job?”

“That too.” He agreed. “My squad and I take careful precautions to avoid our faces being seen during any missions for the safety of our families.” His face turned as solemn as his voice. “We do what we do to make the world safer. To keep our families and friends safe. It’s imperative that we’re not seen.”

Kyle cocked a brow. “But you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?”

“I am,” he nodded. “But I’m not as…out as the rest of my siblings. You’d be able to recognize them from press photos, but me not so much.” (Y/N) pulled into a parking spot outside the bar. “People only recognize me when they see the name on the credit cards. And I prefer to keep it that way.” A goofy smile crossed his lips. “The high life isn’t for me.”

“Says the man that drives a 710 horsepower sports car.” Kyle shot back with a grin of his own and (Y/N) stuck his tongue out as he turned the car off and opened the doors.

“Okay, I’m not actively in the high life but that doesn’t mean I don’t like luxury.” He closed the car doors and opened the front door to the bar for Kyle. “After you.”

“Thank you.” He replied, and walked inside, only stopping to turn and ask, “Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?”

(Y/N) tipped his head to the side. “I’m down with both, but I like the bar more.”

“Bar it is,” Kyle said and slid into one of the chairs, (Y/N) the other, and an older man wandered over.

“Well, I’ll be damned, is that (Y/N) Wayne I see?”

He turned, expression morphing into joy as he reached out and shook the older man’s hand. “Jack, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you son. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know me, sir. Nothin’ changing but the weather.”

Jack snorted. “And the desert where you dig sand outta your ass.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Damn straight.” He looked at Kyle. “Kyle, I’d like you to meet Jack Dagher. He’s an old CO of mine.”

Kyle shook the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“It’s all mine,” Jack replied. “It’s been a while since (Y/N) brought anybody here.”

At that, Kyle turned to the soldier who was busy looking anywhere but his face. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. Sonovabitch doesn’t bring his dates here unless he really likes ‘em.”

(Y/N) coughed, glaring at the man. “Alright, we get it. Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders?”

Jack gave him a smug look in return. “What can I get you boys to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Kyle said, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“No shit, kid. What kind?”

(Y/N) snickered as Kyle flushed. “Uh, a Heineken.”

Jack sighed. “And he had such potential. (Y/N)?”

“Gimme a strawberry daiquiri then water after.”

“Still ordering fruity drinks, huh?”

“Hey, they get you drunk faster than horse piss does, you old fart.” He shot back and the old man chuckled.

“Touché.” He slapped the bar. “I’ll bring those to you with an order of chili fries.”

“Thanks Jack,” (Y/N) smiled, watching the man walk off before turning to Kyle who was watching one of the baseball games. “You like sports?”

He tipped his head side to side. “I don’t not like them. I was never a sporty kid in school, but I like watching them.” He looked at the solider. “What were you like in school? Jock or prep?”

“Probably a bit of both,” he answered. “I played sports and had the highest grades.” Shrugging, he added, “And being a Wayne boosted me into the top tier of schools, so, there’s that. To be honest, I think all of us Wayne kids were and are a mixture of every stereotypical category.”

“I can see that,” Kyle laughed. “Especially with Jason and Dick.”

“Shit, I was talking about Timmy.” (Y/N) said. “That kid’s a grade A nerd.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

The two of them laughed and a woman placed their drinks in front of them, both giving their thanks as they took sips.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”

“My muscles are one hundred percent real. Especially my abs. Which you’re allowed to feel on in envy if you want.”

Kyle snorted into his beer, wiping his mouth. “No!” a few more chuckles passed his lips as he wiped the bar. “Are you…you know…?”

“A Leo?” (Y/N) offered with a smile, but his eyes told Kyle he knew exactly what the Lantern was asking, and he said, “I like the liquor, but I don’t care what label it has on it.”

The other man smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“But if you want the technical term, I am pansexual.” He regarded Kyle a moment. “You?”

“Bisexual.”

His lips pulled in an impressed fashion. “Pretty fly for a bi guy.”

Kyle gaped at him for a moment, then shoved (Y/N) in the side as he buried his face in his arms and laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

“Ah thank you,” he grinned. “I get it from my old man.”

“You,” he cut himself off with a cackle. “do not get that from him.”

“Look, you know the big man in the suit. You don’t know the complete goober we live with,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling at the waitress who placed menus in front of them; he picked his up and flipped through it.

“What do you recommend?”

“Hmm…anything with bacon on it.” He showed the menu. “If you like salads, get the steak and blue cheese one, it’s fantastic. Or if you’re more into tacos, they’ve got these awesome shrimp carnitas with chili peppers.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as he looked the menu over. “What are you gonna get?”

“My usual. Tomahawk steak with garlic butter and mashed potatoes.” (Y/N) groaned and rested his head back. “I haven’t had a good steak in months, and I can just taste it already.”

“So, you’re a meat and potatoes kind of man?”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Unlike the cup noodle and Hawaiian roll man beside me.”

“Ouch. Hit me where it hurts.”

“C’mon Kyle, hit me with your best shot.”

“Better watch it, (Y/N),” he grinned. “You might be the next notch in my pencil case.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

***

“Holy crap,” Kyle breathed, hands resting lightly on his stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

(Y/N) moaned. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

“Done?” their waitress laughed. “You haven’t even finished your desserts yet!”

“Oh God, don’t make me,” the Lantern whined. “I’ll explode.” He looked over. “(Y/N), take one for the team.”

“Pass,” he replied. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds just looking at the rest of the cheesecake.”

The woman laughed. “I’ll wrap the leftovers for you boys.” She wandered off, leaving them alone, and a blaring ringtone filled the space between.

(Y/N) jumped a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I get this really quick?”

Kyle shook his head. “Go ahead.”

He slid his thumb along the bottom and rested the phone on the bar. “This is Wayne.”

Captain! Finally. I’ve been texting you all afternoon.

“I know,” he snorted. “I’ve been ignoring it.”

Yeah well, the longer you ignore me the slower it takes for the radar dish to get replaced.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) asked. “I thought you’d procured one.”

I did. Then the buyer told me I wasn’t registered for official military hardware.

He frowned. “That’s odd. You did contact Thomas, right?”

Yeah. Beady eyed looking motherfucker who serves on the George Washington, right?

“That’s him.” (Y/N) hummed. “Tell you what, I’ll call him later this evening and get it all sorted out, yeah?”

Sounds good. Hey, did you take that guy out yet? Your little brother won’t stop texting me about some twinkie you’re into.”

(Y/N) froze as he felt Kyle’s eyes drilling into the side of his head and he stuttered, “Uh, Nadeen, now’s not the best time.”

What do you mean best—oh…ohhhhhh. I, uh, I gotta go, Captain.

“Yep. Bye.” He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, refusing to meet Kyle’s eyes. “So…you catch the baseball game?”

“Which one of your brother’s thinks I’m a twink?” Kyle asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s Jason, isn’t it?” he grunted in his throat, deadpanning, “I can’t believe my best friend thinks I’m a twink.”

“It’s Dick, actually.” (Y/N) grinned, turning to face him and he reached over, pinching Kyle’s cheek. “It’s just ‘cause you’re so cute and perky.”

The Lantern merely glared at him, griping, “I’m not as strong as you, put I can punch pretty hard.”

“Ooo, those are fighting words,” he shot back with a smirk, letting Kyle go. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

“I feel like I’m talking to Hal.”

(Y/N) whined, all but collapsing onto Kyle who started snickering. “I’ve just been murdered.” He buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder. “Can’t believe I was just compared to Highball. The world must be coming to an end.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby. You’re not dying.”

“I am!” he turned his head, gazing at Kyle. “You’ll have to carry me to safety.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I did not say that.”

“You did, but in more words.”

“Alright, now I’m talking to Guy.”

“THAT’S SO MUCH WORSE!”

***

He leaned against the door frame as Kyle unlocked his front door and pushed it open, turning to look at him. “I had a lot of fun today, (Y/N).” he murmured. “Thanks.”

Winking, he replied, “I’m glad you did. I’d like to do it again soon if you want.”

Kyle nodded. “I’d like that.”

They stared at each other for a few moments and (Y/N) smiled, patting the door frame. “Well, I’d better be heading out. Have to get home in time for dinner.” He paused, giving the man a warm look. “Thanks for having lunch with me, Kyle.”

He’d not gotten two feet from the door when Kyle’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.” He turned and the Lantern leaned forward, pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Be careful on your way back.”

“I will,” he murmured, watching Kyle wave and disappear into his apartment, the door shutting behind him.

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stephspurs · 3 years ago

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

EEEEEEK here's part two!!! Part two sees more of Amelia's beautiful brain, the love she has for her team, and her brother, & her friendship with Kyle Walker. Hope you guys love it as much as i do - please let me know what you think - i'd love to hear from you all!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 2. | seconda parte

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 1469

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wednesday 28/07 5pm AEST. Updates are twice weekly (Sunday & Wednesday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex

link to fic masterlist here

11 July 2021 | The Final Match.

The players for both national teams lined up side by side down the tunnel. Chiellini & Kane, both confident in their teams ability, captaining with great authority and mentorship for the ten men stood behind them. Amelia stood at the back of the tunnel, watching the scene ahead of her. Her dad, walking up the centre aisle between the two teams, shaking the hands of his players, confident in his preparation. A gentle hand to her brother's shoulder, saying everything it needs to say. It was the same hand that rubbed the back of her neck as he walked past, communicating the same thing. Go your hardest, you’re ready for this.

It was her turn, she started at the back of the line, and in true Italian style, a kiss was placed to both cheeks of every player up the line. When she reached Jorginho, a player she came to appreciate for his technical mindset and intellectual approach to the game, she kissed his cheek and turned to the player opposite him - her brother, who was trying his hardest to face forward and pay his little sister no mind. She knew what he was doing, but she wasn’t as heartless as the rest of the England squad probably perceived her to be. Reaching out, she rubbed her hand along the back of his neck, just as her father did to her, leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before continuing down the line of her players to the front. Shaking hands with Gareth Southgate, who no doubt had come to realise who the girl was in relation to his team, and a kiss to both cheeks of Mr Mancini, she walked out and took her place on the bench, ready for the game of her life.

120 minutes of football later.

Life is both beautiful and cruel. Whilst she hadn’t anticipated the early goal from Shaw, Amelia had predicted every play by the english and made sure her team was there waiting for them to turn and run. They knew to never let Harry Kane have the space to move the ball, to make sure Mason Mount was marked at all times and to pay attention to the silky smooth skills of Raheem Sterling. They knew that every player on the english side had the talent and skill to shoot and score, no matter if they're a striker or full back. In the end, the endless taunts from the british crowd and constant reminder of “it’s coming home” only fuelled the Italians further and pushed them harder, to their limits. Eventually both sides met with equal force and completed extra time at a draw, leading to penalties. All of Amelia’s preparation with Gianluigi Donnarumma would present itself now. She went over the preferred sides of the penalty takers she presumed would be stepping up for their country, and reminded him of all he has achieved & what there is still left to be done. After all, they are the masters of their own fate.

Donnarumma’s block of Bukayo Saka’s penalty rattled her bones and sent a chill down her spine. They had done it. The boys had finally brought football back to Rome for the first time since 1968, and while she can’t take all of the credit, she knows she single handedly played a part in this victory. As soon as happiness filled her body, guilt and sadness flooded her heart. She had been part of the problem that caused her brother so much pain. Her dad knew how to handle rejection, this wasn't his first rodeo, and could see with an open mind just how they had managed to achieve greatness. But her brother had truly believed they had it, that football was coming home to England.

After being surrounded by her boys, cheering and hugging her, screaming in relief that they had done it, Amelia took a step back and took a deep breath in. Looking over to the players in white consoling each other with looks of understanding and pats on the back, hugging those with the unfortunate fate of missing their penalties, she found her brother.

_____________________________________________________________

Squatting down with his elbows resting on his knees and hands covering part of his face, his eyes showing disbelief that the moment had escaped them. Jordan Henderson, the figurative big brother to my big brother, leaning down whispering what one can only assume is words of encouragement and strength to him. A voice to my right startles me, not because I wasn't used to the noise, but because it was a voice I haven't heard directed at me with anything other than venom in a very long time.

“He wants you to be there for him, don’t ever think for a second that he doesn’t want you around.” Kyle Walker speaks into the open, whilst looking around at the fans still in the stadium. The fans behind us right now would be watching with speculation, wondering why the english player is talking to an italian so soon after defeat.

“I don’t think he doesn’t want me around, i just don’t think he wants me around right now” I spoke back, trying to reason with myself and Kyle as to why i haven't gone up and offered my condolences to my brother.

“I think the only thing that can pull him out of this is you. He was beating himself up last night after your argument, and while he turned it into motivation for today, it's still weighing on his conscience. He’s happy for you, we aren't that mean so as to deny him the pleasure of being proud of his little sister...even if she is working for the enemy”

“You’ve always been one to be the voice of reason, whilst still being the clown I grew up to know and love”

“Does this mean we’re friends again? I’m sorry about last night” Kyle admitted.

“Last night wasn’t what ended our friendship...we stopped being friends the day you left Spurs.” I joked back to Kyle. I turned to look at his over-expressed shocked face and walked backwards a few steps while giggling, before turning and sauntering over to my brother who was now surrounded by some more teammates. Upon seeing me and noticing my solemn expression, finding comfort in the fact that I wasn't there to rub my win in their faces, the boys left my brother to himself.

I stood there, staring into the eyes of my brother, who after a few minutes reached out and pulled me into him as though I was a life raft and he was stranded in the ocean. We stood there, hugging, saying everything we needed to say through the way we were gripping to the backs of each other's team colours.

“I am so proud of you, you put up one hell of a fight Ben. Certainly made my job harder” I spoke into his shirt. He was the taller of the two, but I wasn't that short. Almost immediately after, I felt him push more weight onto me and sink a bit lower so he was in my neck, shedding a few tears he didn't want seen by those around us. Not even 5 seconds later, he stood up straight, wiping his eyes and offering me a smile.

“God, I wish you weren’t better at your job than I am at mine” he joked back to me. I smiled up at him, shaking my head.

“I would say you’re wrong but the medal that's about to be around my neck would say otherwise” i joke back with him. I was not about to dull my sparkle for someone else's sun to shine, whether he is my brother or not.

“We have to talk about everything that went down last night but i’ll let you enjoy your night with your team” Ben says as we turn and begin to walk toward the stage being set up for the ceremony.

“Thanks Ben, family dinner on Sunday? Tell your friends to come, you and i both know mum will have enough food to feed everyone without even trying”

“Of course, I'll put it in the lads chat & see who’s still around. Kyle will see it in our family chat - who even put him in there anyway!?”

“Honestly...I think it was mum. You know she loves her son, Kyle.”

As I walk back to my team, and into the arms of Fede and Jorginho who wrap me up in an Italian flag and start jumping around, I can't help but smile and laugh at my amazing life. Who knows what the future has to hold, but for tonight, the azzurri are the champions of europe and the trophy is coming home, to Rome.

Part 3. | parte terza

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makeste · 3 years ago

Note

Don’t you think that Horikoshi backing up Katsuki with 1A is proof Deku’s stronger than him? Like, I really don’t think it would end in a draw if they fought it out 1v1, it would just be unrealistic at this point, (and would undermine Endeavour’s storyline, Nagant’s character and the overall power scaling of the manga). However, Katsuki winning alone against Deku or winning as a team against Deku is the same end result for him, so it’s way more realistic, and follows what MHA’s always telling us about teamwork. Maybe in the end there’ll be a Deku v Kacchan (and I hope so! And likely, considering Katsuki’s definitely the strongest in the class and the only one who can at least hope to compare) but I think Horikoshi realized Katsuki can’t win alone (and I think even Katsuki knows that rn), but that doesn’t mean he can’t win at all.

I very much do not think this is proof of that, but I am also very biased and stubborn about this, and have a lot of strong feelings about it as you probably know lol. so keep that in mind.

there are a few reasons why I think the entire class is there. firstly, to show how much they all care about Deku and how important Deku is to all of them. I said in my prediction post last week that I thought the Deku Rescue Squad would consist of people whom Deku had inspired in some way. and that did turn out to be the case -- it's just that I underestimated just how much Deku has inspired all of them, not just a select few. he means enough to each and every one of his classmates that they all came together and agreed that they were going to go out and find him and show him that he wasn't alone. and that was actually very moving to realize (no wonder Deku scrambled to hide back under his mask so quickly lol).

the second reason why I think they are all there is because, this being endgame times, I think Horikoshi wants to show how much all of them have powered up, not just the main cast. with the final battle approaching, he needs to show us that these kids are ready, or else he risks us not being able to suspend our belief when they wind up defeating AFO and the League at the end of the series. we need to see how far they've come, and he needs to show us what they're made of.

and the third and final reason is because in order to ease the fear in Deku's heart right now, his friends need to reassure him that what happened at Gunga and Jakku is not going to happen again. they need to show him that they're strong, so that he can trust in their strength. and they also need to show both him and the Vestiges that the most surefire way of defeating AFO isn't through OFA's power alone, but through the power of all of their quirks. all of their strength, combined. they need to demonstrate to him that the 19 of them acting together are easily a match for him even if he does have six quirks. and so if all of them work together, they can even be a match for TomurAFO as well.

so yeah, all of these things are very important and need to happen. but none of them precludes DvK3 from also happening as well. what I'm currently envisioning is a two-phase battle.

in the first phase, all of them team up against Deku while he tries to use SIXQUIRKS to take them down, using the same strategies that worked against Muscular and Nagant and the others. except that it doesn't work against 1-A because they're prepared for it, and they show him how their own strength and ingenuity can match and exceed his own when they all work together.

during this phase we'll get to see the kids show off, and we'll get to see what kind of combos Horikoshi can pull off with all of them acting together as a unit. so for instance, maybe Deku tries to use Smokescreen to escape, and Momo makes a bunch of giant fans to blow the smoke away, and Dark Shadow carries one of the fans up into the air, and Ochako makes the others weightless, and Kouda summons a bunch of birds to carry them, and Iida turns on Recipro and runs a bunch of high speed circles around the area to clear out the rest of the smoke.

or Deku uses Float, and Mineta and Sero and Shouto use their quirks to catch him while Kacchan and Shouto and Ochako and Tokoyami and all the other kids with flying quirks loop around to cut him off.

or Deku uses Danger Sense to try and dodge their attacks, but the same group from the previous paragraph uses the same tactics to hold him in place. or Jirou and Kami and Tsuyu use their quirks to paralyze him temporarily. or Hagakure and Kacchan use their quirks to momentarily blind him.

or Deku tries to use Blackwhip to grab them and hold them all in place, but Kacchan and Iida use their speed to evade (evading Blackwhip is a specialty of Kacchan's after all), and Shouji uses his quirk to sprout arms on all of the other kids to help pry them free, and Aoyama and Mina use their quirks to dissolve some of the Blackwhip tendrils because idk but there has to be something that's able to actually counter them (just like Dark Shadow is similarly made of "dark energy" but isn't invulnerable either), and Ojiro runs around being a diversion or something because I had to include him in these hypotheticals somewhere, and Sero and Shouto use their quirks to bind and freeze Deku's hands so he can't aim properly, and Kiri and Satou use their strength to turn the tables on Deku and yank him off balance instead using his own quirk.

anyway but the point is, they have an effective counter for each and every one of Deku's quirks and strategies, because they are taking advantage of the fact that 19 > 6. and so that's what the first part of the battle will be like. but then the second phase, I envision happening once Deku finally whips out the one quirk they haven't been able to prepare for, because they didn't know about it -- Fa Jin. I don't think Deku will use it to attack any of them directly; rather, he'll try to use it as a trump card to try and make his escape. in which case the most likely scenario is that Kacchan -- whose own speed upgrade Deku is similarly unaware of -- will take off after him, with the others following behind at a slower pace (assuming they can still track him using the GPS). which in turn leads to the second phase of the battle -- our much-anticipated DvK3 proper.

which is still going to happen for my money, and is still vitally important. because the two of them have a lot of things that they need to say to each other. and because Kacchan is still Deku's equal, and I will die on that fucking hill if I have to lol. and with respect, I can't really bring myself to worry about it potentially undermining Endeavor's storyline or Nagant's skills or whatever either, because to be perfectly frank this is something that was established long before those things came along, and this takes precedence. Kacchan staked his claim to number one in the very first chapter. he reaffirmed that claim multiple times throughout the series, including after DvK1 and DvK2. he was the second one to be tied to All Might's legacy right after Deku. he is the other half of the "win" and "save" equation. the first one Deku entrusted with his secret. the one who Deku emulates. and the reason why Deku left UA. the real reason. not the only reason, but the predominant reason which he still hasn't been able to face yet. because Kacchan's body moved on its own, and he took that blow for him, and that frightened him more than anything has ever frightened him before.

so yeah, it has to happen. there are too many loose ends which need to be addressed. too much emotional buildup to be resolved with just a handful of sentences while they duke it out alongside their classmates. at the very least, if 1-A does wind up triumphing over Deku, there would need to be some kind of follow-up conversation between Deku and Kacchan alone, if not necessarily a fight.

but you know what, even as I typed that last sentence out it didn't feel right lol. ngl I do still think it's gonna be a fight. that's just what they do. they're shounen rivals. and shounen rivals share their feelings via their fists lol. and these two have a lot of feelings to share, and a shitload of trauma to unpack and address. and that moment at the end of 318 -- that solo moment with just Kacchan, alongside the "the one who can complete Midoriya Izuku..." dialogue -- that wasn't just a coincidence. there is absolutely no way.

so yeah, I stand by my previous posts lol. we doin this. not sure when, at this point, but stay tuned.

#bnha 319 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #class 1-a #bnha meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post

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storiesofsvu · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Tour Guide

Rafael Barba XFem!reader Warnings: language, fluff

Rafael watched out of the corner of his eye as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, sunk back against the couch in his office. You were waiting for Carmen to return with signed warrants you needed for the new case while Rafael was working on arguments for the one about to start trial. He didn’t know much about you at all, you were good at your job, managed to give him the perfect amount of sass back, he couldn’t quite remember where Liv said you’d transferred in from, but you’d been working Special Victims for over five years already. He also knew he definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little bit better.

“Fuck…” the mutter was so quiet he almost missed it, you not wanting to interrupt the work that he actually wasn’t doing. He definitely heard your phone clatter onto the table in front of you, drawing his eyes up to you.

“Something I should be worried about?”

“What?” You glanced up, a sudden concern etched in your eyes, “oh shit, sorry Counsellor. No, it’s not work.”

“Care to enlighten me anyways?” You cocked a brow, you rarely interacted with Rafael at work outside of when the full squad was around.

“It’s stupid, really.”

“I’m sure I’ve heard worse.” You hesitated, did he really just smile at you? Basically everything you’d heard about the man was that he was cocky and had an attitude problem.

“I have tickets to the Nutcracker for Friday. One of my girlfriends was supposed to fly out for the holiday but her work just called an emergency and she can’t come.” You threw yourself back against the couch, “I was just excited to have a white Christmas for the first time, do all the lame touristy shit in a new city, ya know?” Your head rolled to face Barba, who’s face held an inquisitive expression.

“I thought you were from Woodbury? Don’t you get snow there?” You laughed,

“Wrong Orange County Barba, I’m from California..grew up in Laguna Beach.”

“Oh…” he stuttered slightly, “I..guess you don’t seem like the stereotypical Californian then?”

“Why do you think I took the offer to move to New York?” You leant forward, “I hated it there.” You rubbed your hands over your face, “I haven’t even been here long enough to make any friends, work’s been occupying me enough.” You sighed heavily, “maybe I should just sell the tickets.”

“Will you make any money off them?” You turned to Barba with a gleam in your eyes he had yet to witness.

“They’re third row seats…the week before Christmas, I could definitely get a profit off them.” Rafael could see the far off look of disappointment in your eyes, someone who had been more than looking forward to it, a week with one of your closest friends now nothing but a figment of your imagination.

“I…don’t want to impose, but…if you want someone to go with, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“Seriously?” Your face shot to his, brows furrowed as he chuckled, giving a soft nod, “I never would’ve pegged you for a theatre go-er.”

“On the contrary, it’s the one part of life I guess I let myself indulge in. My Mami loves the Rockettes….we go every year.”

“You’d really go to the ballet with me?”

“It’s sounding like you need a tour guide of the sights… and I’d hate for you to lose out on those tickets.��

“The ever cold Rafael Barba is willing to be my Christmas tour guide?” He rolled his eyes, tempted to chuck a pen at you at the teasing tone in your voice.

“You said Friday, right?” You nodded, “I’ll pick you up at six, we can at least grab some appi’s before the show.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”’ Rafael gave you a soft grin, “you need a tour guide. I’ve lived here my whole life, may as well use it my advantage…but you will need a warm coat. This isn’t Los Angeles.” You outwardly laughed, your cheeks slightly flushing at the idea of spending an evening alone with the A.D.A right before Carmen knocked on the door.

You shot them both a quick nod and a soft thank you for the warrants before you left the office, the thought of a..date? A night out? Whatever it was…with Rafael clouding your mind for the rest of the day.

Rafael was, as you’d expected, right on time that Friday, knocking at your door right at six. You, thankfully had expected this and were ready by the time you welcomed him into your apartment while you grabbed your last couple of things. You blushed as he took your arm in his as you made your way up the steps to the hall, and you were surprised at the way he offered you a drink before you made you way into the theatre.

He in turn, was more than entranced with the adorable look on your face as you watched the ballet, sure, you’d seen your share of mediocre performances in the past, the the New York City Ballet was something else. And it was Christmas, everything seemed to have a heightened sense of magic this year being in a different city. Rafael could see the happiness glinting in your eyes, the wonderment etched across your face and couldn’t help but smile at it. It may not have been his first time at the ballet, but to an extent it certainly felt like it.

You couldn’t help but gush over everything as the two of you made your way out of the theatre in the streets of the city. Your small laughs and bright smiles breaking through your words much more often than you realized. You also didn’t realize Rafael was taking it all in with a grin on his cheeks as you walked through the street.

“I’m so sorry, I’m blabbering…and you probably need to get home.” You stopped, your arm nearly dropping from his, leaving your wrists linked.

“On the contrary…I was thinking we could maybe hit a few of the Holiday sights?”

“What?” You voice felt like it was barely above a breath, “really?”

“You said it was your first year in the city for Christmas, and I said I’d be your tour guide..c’mon.”

Rafael shot you a warm smile, tucking your hand into his pocket with his own as he led you through the streets of the city. True to his word, he did show you as much as he could that was nearby, you wandered past the elaborate display of the Saks Fifth Light show on your way over to Rockefeller Centre. The tree was fully lit and on display as you got there, the small gasp easily escaping your lips as you took in the sights. You couldn’t help the small giggle as the snow began to fall from the sky, fluffy flakes taking over the city as you leant against Rafael’s shoulder. It really didn’t matter how you’d gotten there, right now, you were more than happy for your company, and more than happy for the holiday season. And in all honesty, Rafael was too. He was more than ecstatic to share the holiday season with someone for once, especially someone who was so new to the entire thing, someone who didn’t roll their eyes at regular traditions. And to be honest, he was very excited to show you even more parts of the holiday that were waiting for you.

#Rafael barba #Rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba christmas #Rafael barba fluff #rafael barba one shot #rafael barba fanfiction #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #christmas #christmas fluff

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flowerslut · 3 years ago

Note

H, I, Y and Z for your letters 🤠

G my beloved I knew you’d come to rescue me in my eleventh hour… i’d kiss u on the mouth about it but I don’t want you covid-stricken (again) 😔

H: How would you describe your style?

LMAO of course you hit me with the question I always have a hard time answering right out of the gate. bitch (affectionate).

girl I don’t knowwwwwwww

I don’t intend for all of my stories to be as angsty and dramatic as they end up being, but I really gravitate toward writing really emotionally charged stories. I’d consider them fairly accessible though, (which I take a teeeeensy amount of pride in) because I feel like not getting too purple or too descriptive makes it easier to reign in a wider group of readers who, like myself, might find that distracting or boring. it definitely may bite me in the ass at some point, but as long as I have their attention and their emotion invested in the story, I find I can sort of ~get away~ with not needing to be as descriptive as others. not that I don’t get descriptive or purple at any point, but I’ve found a good balance with the set up and execution of my funky little plot points—I almost always have some sort of heavy build before you get that emotional payoff, but I’d like to think it’s worth it for the reader 😵‍💫

also I’m a big third person limited girlie. I pick a blorbo and we go on their funky little nightmarish adventure with them

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

oh man yeah I don’t currently have any guilty pleasures since I haven’t been reading too much fic recently (I mean it when I say I’m fucking picky) but an old guilty pleasure for SURE (and for some fandoms, still is) is accidental pregnancy fics LMAO (girl don’t you say shit). of course since that’s a nightmare in any twilight scenario that I’d ever care to read about that’s nothing I would ever read in twilight (or employ for writing purposes either) but for a lot of my old ships… whew boy… that’s some spicy drama… I cant get enough lmfaooo 🫣

Y: A character you want to protect.

I’m part of the gaara defense squad in naruto. like fuck off leave my boy alone he’s been through enough (you’ll never see me putting him through it in fics on my LIFE you won’t). but as for twilight? I don’t typically feel the need to protect any of them (I literally put my favs fucking Through It constantly) but I will happily join/create the tanya defense squad. lord knows she needs some protection from the rabid edbellas that villainize her in 93% of all fic (don’t anybody @ me about this. I’m right)

Z: Major character death—do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can't tolerate?

as someone who HAS written a major character death in a large story (sorry changing skies readers, but it had to be done) I would only employ it if the story absolutely called for it. I hate reading a story with a plot that calls for a high death rate but the author just… spares all the mains (I’m glaring at you, duffer brothers) so it only makes sense to use it to keep things more “realistic” and to keep the stakes high. I’ve used it before and would I use it again? probably, yeah!

I do draw the line at killing off half of my ship. the main reason (or at least, 99% of the reason) that I read or write fic is for pairings. I am a shipper through and through and I am that PROUDLY, so the idea of just axing half of what I’m even reading or writing a story for is just… utterly unappealing to me. I’m here for their journey. and sure, sometimes those journeys don’t end “well” but it’s so intensely rare that I’ve ever read a story that kills half of the reason I’m reading that story in a satisfying way. (also if you come at me for “welcome to hell” don’t even bother. that was a practice in TRAGEDY you FOOLS)

#thank u G i love u

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kojinnie · 4 years ago

Text

Dream Me Home: Before Shiganshina

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Reader (gender neutral)

Tags: angst, mild fluff, established relationship (implied), canon universe. Reader is one of the Veterans. spoiler alert if you haven’t gone through anime S3

Summary: Moments shared with Erwin Smith leading up to his timely death. A three-chapter story, surrounding moments before and after the Battle of Shiganshina.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Set after Levi tried to convince Erwin not to head for Battle of Shiganshina.

This will be a trilogy, with the next two parts coming up soon! All the time set before, during and after Battle of Shiganshina. Hope you enjoy this!

There was an evident pain in the eyes of Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe as they stepped out of Erwin’s office, and you could feel the weight of their stares immediately fell to the floor when they met your eyes.

Your steps were heavy as you approached them, but it was obvious that they had no intention to making a stop at you. Just Hange passing sympathy to you, patting your shoulder in consolation and Levi, the ever so quiet soldier, murmuring with regret, “We couldn’t change his mind. Sorry.”

And then they both strived on. Leaving the hallway leading to Erwin’s office as quiet as it was before.

You could feel the stonewall of Mitras grew cold at your touch as you leaned to it, as you gathered what’s left of your heart. You had been anxiously pacing outside Erwin’s office for hours, wishing that there was enough power in Hange and Levi’s words in convincing Erwin to turn away from the eyes of war. You had been wishing, that if your solemn plea did not get to Erwin’s heart, at least his camaraderie with Levi and Hange would. As it happened, it all turned out to be nothing but a wishful thinking.

The afternoon sunrays dispersed through the columns of Mitras, and they made a beautiful gleam of warmth on the hallway steps leading to Erwin’s office. There’s beauty in living, you thought to yourself and it saddened you because you did not understand why Erwin would want to leave this all behind.

You racked your brain, trying to gather all the things you would reason to him with. All the beauties in the living he could see: The glimmer of Trost’s cobblestones underneath the street lamps; the joyful shriek of kids basking in the summer heat; the piercing cold of winter expedition outside the wall; or even, the mundane military briefing with the odd bore that Darius Zackly was, where Erwin would steal a glance at you across the room. And then the smile you faintly threw back at him, or the butterflies within your guts as you saw him rose from his seat, laying out his battle strategy before the eyes of the Wall’s most important men. Would those be enough reasons to soften the hardened heart of Erwin Smith?

He knew you had been lingering outside his office, evident by his call to you just now. His deep voice seeped through the door that wasn’t fully closed, “You can come in now.”

You knew what it was not to cry, to dismiss your emotion for it was the worst weakness a soldier could ever possess. Battle-born and inured, you had no privilege of being fragile when it comes to the fate of all human: death.

So, you remained stoic, as you walked in to his office.

“Commander.”

“Captain.”

Your eyes met, and the look of agony was apparent in the skies of his eyes that had grown cold and tired. He averted his eyes from you, quickly to the paper works laid out on the desk in front of him. Your heart broke to see the struggle he had writing down simple notes, slowly and carefully by each alphabet, as he was still trying to make use of his left arm.

You closed the door behind you and made your way to him, repossessing all the self-restraint you had, “You’re a difficult man to sway.”

Once the door was closed, and there were only the two of you, you could feel warmth started to grew in Erwin. Something unbeknownst to other soldiers but you, “I am,” He said with a dim smile, “Unfortunately.”

“You must be proud of yourself,” there was a bitterness in your statement that you masked by pacing around Erwin’s office, staring afar at the view of the afternoon through his windows.

“I would, if I still had my right arm,” Erwin laid out a large parchment, and reached for the ruler, staring at the squad formation that he had strategized, “and not be a dead weight to my soldiers—do you mind?”

You quickly helped to hold the parchment and the ruler in place, as Erwin drew formation lines with his left hand. Shaky, he messed his inked.

He gruntled in annoyance and threw a new parchment on the table, signaling you to take over instead. You had become acquainted of Erwin Smith’s thoughts and ideas, and without much direction you drew the formation he was meaning to draw.

“I will lead the cavalry here,” he pointed at the forefront of the formation, motioning for you to draw accordingly, “the rear will be packed with new recruits. Unfortunately, it will be our most susceptible point. I’ll have Levi there.” You drew an x with red ink on the places he’d pointed at, a mark signifying the position of humanity’s strongest soldier.

“Where Hange and the kids will be?”

“They’re not kids anymore,” he retorted in dismay, there was almost a pain in the way he spoke, “not since the wall broke.”

He had grown to care for the kids, you came to realize. The 104th Cadets who got so deep in the crossfire of humanity’s last effort to survive, and now they’re at the front-line of it. Retaking Wall Maria was the mission, and Shiganshina was the destination. This was the city decimated by the might of the Colossal and Armored Titan years ago, the beginning of a prolonged dark sequence in a life that was already a living hell. And now they were to return, at the same place it started, facing the same Titans.

You remembered it, fighting for survival through the hurdles of cobbles and rubbles, as houses and buildings of Shiganshina flew like debris across your head. The uncanny stench of guts and blood, as you made your best effort to keep anyone alive from the wrath of the giant devils.

The way your Scout uniform latched on to your skin, dampened by the blood of mothers and daughters – is a memory forever ingrained deep within your mind. You were there, and the fear never left you. That’s why you left the Scout and joined the Garrison, “serve where you may” were the words that Erwin uttered the day you announced your repositioning, as you coped with the possibility of losing Erwin, each time he braced another expedition outside the wall. No longer with you close to him, or in any position where you may give aid whenever danger bruised him. You were selfish, but Erwin understood your decision.

“Is this the formation you’re going to use against the Beast Titan?” you asked. There was an immediate scare creeping through your spine as you mentioned the devil’s name. You had heard of this newly emerging titan; a creature of horror, one that was so menacing with capability beyond compare. The one that took Miche, and the one that Erwin had to face now.

He did not say a word, only a nod.

“Have you fought him before?” The wariness in your voice was getting apparent, as emotions started to defeat your trained restraint, “how do you know your standard formation would work on him?”

The Commander sighed, validating your fear. Ever since he lost an arm, his balance had been quite compromised. He put his hand on the surface of his working desk for support, as he sat himself down on his leather-bound chair.

“You don’t.”

“Yes. You’re right,” Erwin paused for a moment, and slowly tilted his head up to look at you towering over him. It was a foreign sight, to see him wounded and fragile as he had always been the shield of courage to your feeble heart, “I do not. I want you to know that.”

“What will happen then?”

Erwin looked down, his right hand reached to where his left arm used to be, massaging it softly. You knew he had not coped well with his injury, the sleepless nights, the ghostly itch, the deprecation he inflicted towards himself. Erwin Smith was not used to being looked down and pitied, and it frustrated him to no end. When the news broke that he would be heading for the mission, everyone thought the same, ‘He is going to die’, but no one had enough guts to tell him directly to his face but Levi and you. Everyone thought that Erwin was oblivious to this possibility, but only the two of you knew that Erwin already anticipated the possible lethal end for him, and still, it would not dissuade his choice. Erwin had made his decision.

Erwin reached for the ruler and pointed the lines and crosses you had drawn, elaborating the plan of capturing both Colossal and Armored Titan with the explosive device that Hange had invented. He talked about the prospect of retaking Wall Maria, its details and strategies, and it was upsetting that at times Erwin would treat you like you were only his soldier, not someone who had been close to his heart for years.

You softly put down the ruler in his hand to the desk, as your eyes fell on his, “Erwin, what will happen to you?” The Commander in Erwin dissipated in your presence, and you could feel his eyes started to display the vulnerability he had sworn to disguise to no end, “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“That’s true.” He muttered, holding the hand you had on his ruler. His thumb softly caressed the skin on your knuckles as he dragged his stare away from your eyes – gazing afar at the afternoon skies that had turned warmly tinted as the sun fell, “Levi was adamant that I’d return as a corpse if I go.”

The coil in your guts grew tighter as you gulped your despair down with the pretense of a toughened comrade, “I share his foresight.”

“You do?”

“Erwin, I do.”

The words hung in your throat like a tumor. You realized, death has countless faces, and you have encountered many of them, yet Erwin’s would be the one death you may never recover from.

Erwin smiled, taking your hand to his lips and kissed it long, closing his eyes with an odd serene look on his face, “In another world, you would say those words in a completely different circumstance, you know?”

You cackled, because you had no better response to that, but even trying to humorize the predicament you were in only pain your heart further, “Yes, I know.”

The tears finally broke soundlessly, it seeped through the crack of your broken heart, and cascaded down your face to Erwin’s relief, as he realized he still held what’s left of your heart, “What will become of me then?” you asked, “Without you?”

He stood up and pulled you closer, cupping your face with his coarse hand and kissed the eyelid where the tear had fallen from, as he said softly, “I want you to listen carefully.”

You nodded, and peeled your face away from his hand. Listening like an obedient soldier that you were.

“If I don’t make it, Hange will lead on as the Commander. Levi, he will make it out alive. He must.” Erwin eyes didn’t leave yours, “Many of us will not be returning home. If I be one of them… I want you to take me home. Whatever left of me. I want you to be the one to recover my body, and lay me next to my father.”

“My soldiers will need your help. If the time comes and a messenger has been dispatched to confirm that we have won the battle, I want you to bring your Garrison squad to Shiganshina, to help the wounded, and bring the bodies home – to peace that they have died for."

You nodded, although his words swarmed your mind like piercing knives. But you nodded, because you wanted to be strong even when the strength that you always leaned yourself on was to depart and never return.

You looked once again at the divine blue irises that taught you all about duty and tenacity, and imagined the life you could live on if Erwin and you weren’t born in the lap of despair that you called home. In another life, you would hear music of peace and pride, not somber wail of war and wrath. But for now, you chose to live and savor the painful taste of goodbye.

“I’ll be close behind, Commander,” you said with a faint smile, dusting yourself up, “you can count on me.”

Erwin passed a solemn nod as he pulled you in closer to the last embrace you would have with him, and whispered, “Dream me home, my darling. Dream me home when I’m no longer here.”

Hey guys! Thanks for reading it. So far, this is still one of the works that I enjoyed writing the most, so glad if you happen to like it!

ADD-ON: Anyway, if you like this and wonder how Levi x Reader version the night before the battle would be like, @weepinglevi wrote Levi's conversation with his S/O the night before the battle. And I really love her works so much, you can check hers here.

Hope you have a nice day and remember: Erwin loves you.

Or you can check my Masterlist here!

#erwin x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith #aot erwin #snk erwin #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #hange zoë

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killian-spey · 4 years ago

Text

Death Would be Kinder [ch.1]

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 2626

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad. [Ch.1 takes place in BtVS S2 Ep14]

TW/CW: Kidnapping, Violence, Nightmares.

AN: Check out the [Prologue] first if you haven’t already! :D

Tags: @prose-for-hire , (Comment below or send an ask to be added!)

You had run through the sewers for hours before you pulled yourself out of a manhole halfway across town. Escaping from the factory had worn you out completely, and you made your way home, hoping that Angel and Buffy had done the same.

When you got home, Jenny was asleep on the couch. It looked as though she'd been waiting up all night for you. You tucked a blanket over her and took her empty tea mug to the kitchen before going upstairs, where you flopped into bed and immediately found sleep.

You opened your eyes in the dark and two stormy grey eyes were staring into yours. You sat up confused as your eyes adjusted to the dark. A moment passed, then a new pair blinked into existence; they were blue, cold and unmoving. Their faces grew recognizable and a pit of anxiety grew in your stomach. Spike was leaning against your window sill. Drusilla was laying on your bed, reaching for you with one hand. You stumbled backwards with a yelp, falling onto your floor. Yellow eyes flashed once in your peripheral and then everyone was gone, just as quickly as they'd all appeared.

As you stood up, you found yourself in the factory. It was brighter here, but cold and empty. You spun, looking for an exit. Flashes of images knocked you off balance like punches. A red dress, flowing ribbon, blonde hair, black hair, crooked smiles, pointed teeth. Bells rang in your head, you saw a wheelchair, then painted red nails, then a ridged face. Your head was spinning. You were spinning. Faster and faster until you felt nauseous.

It stopped suddenly. A single thought pierced your adrenaline-rushing head. Soon-

You opened your eyes with a gasp, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom. It was morning and your alarm was going off. You stayed there a few minutes, snoozing the alarm so you could let your heart catch up with reality -or rather slow down to reality- before you got ready for the day and hopped in the car with your sister. Seems Buffy wasn’t the only one having bad dreams about vampires that should've been dead. Lucky you...

As it turns out, Buffy and Angel didn’t check in after last night’s screw up at the factory; thankfully Buffy came into school a couple minutes later to confirm she was still alive. The same couldn’t be said for Angel though, so tensions were high among the Scoobies while researching the Judge.

You were asked to use your artistic skills to draw the Judge to the best of your memory while the others looked into tomes with written references. The world tended to pass you by when you were drawing, so you almost didn’t notice when your sister left the library. She had been summoned by your Uncle, but for what you didn’t know. Not long after, the lights went out.

You stalked out of the library, seeing Xander, Willow, and Angel in the lobby of the school just down the hall. Willow was making her way towards Angel when-

“Willow, get away from him.” Jenny came from the left, holding up a cross as she stepped towards Angel. Oh. Oh no. You pulled a stake from your belt and called out to Willow as calmly as you could muster.

“Willow, walk back towards me.”

“What are you two talking about? It’s just A-”

Angel lunged forward and grabbed Willow by the neck. Familiar yellow eyes peered out of the darkness of the hallway as Willow yelped, struggling against the choke hold.

“You’re not Angel anymore, are you?” Jenny walked closer to Angel.

“Wrong. I am Angel, at last.” He pulled Willow back away from Jenny, “I’ve got a message for Buffy.”

“Why don’t you give it to me yourself?”

The two of them exchanged words and fought, allowing Willow the opportunity to escape Angel’s clutches and join your huddled group on the outskirts of the fight. Buffy got shoved into the water fountain, dumbfounded as Angel walked out the door laughing. The fight was over as quickly as it started, and a blanket of stunned silence covered the whole group. After what felt like an eternity of numb, unmoving shock, you and Jenny gave each other a knowing look. You’d failed. Angel was gone.

You don’t remember how long you’d been sitting in the library, vaguely listening to the group tell Giles about the confrontation with Angelus. Jenny was trying to keep Giles from panicking, and you sat numbly with your guilt. You only looked up when Buffy fled the room, Giles calling after her. You wanted so badly to apologize, but if Buffy ever found out what you’d known, she might kill you herself. You excused yourself from the library, mumbling to Jenny that you’d be in the studio back home.

-----

The garage door creaked as you lifted it. Jenny had given you one of the car bays to use as an art studio while you lived in Sunnydale. Your studio was one of the only places you knew where you could truly be alone with yourself. Jenny had never judged you or your art. Ever since your parents died, she’d stepped up and been supportive of you. You brushed your hand along the top of your canvas stash, picking a large, almost square canvas and setting it on your easel.

Painting had been a way for you to cope with strong emotions for as long as you could remember, but with the events of today you felt lost. You sat on your stool in front of that blank white canvas for what must have been hours. You eventually decided that nothing could convey what you were feeling in the moment, so you decided to paint something the opposite.

You used cream-white, gold and rust to block out a background; it was light, idyllic, and serene. It would be a white-stone conservatory, full of hanging candles and lanterns with a mezzanine balcony covered in ivy. Over that you dropped bright, vibrant tones of yellows and reds and greens. You blocked them into the spaces you would put dancers in flowing gowns and painted blues where you would place their partners. It would be full of life. You stood back a moment, studying. The scene was missing something; joy and innocence, maybe. You place a few, short splotches of pinks and light yellows for younger girls. They were running in a small stampede, weaving through the forest of colorful silks on the dance floor- chasing after fairies or some magic that existed only in their imaginations. There it was. You had vague shapes and a vision, and you were intent on chasing it.

You painted all through the night, and well into the morning. Jenny had left for the school hours ago, but hadn’t said anything. The painting was finally done. You sat in your stool and wiped your hands on your jeans. It was done, you had worked for hours, you had cried for Angel, you had smiled for the imaginary children, and for a moment you were satisfied... Then you noticed it.

In the center of your painting was a lone dancer. She wore a red gown with dark lace over the bodice and had equally dark hair. Your painting was somewhat post-impressionist, preferring interesting shapes over pinpoint detail, but it was unmistakable. In a ballroom of strangers, you’d painted her. Drusilla. You didn’t know what to think about that.

You stared at Drusilla in the painting, stuck in an introspective daze until a creaking sound pulled you back to reality. Your uncle had opened the garage door and stepped into the studio bay with two cups of coffee. You pulled up a stool for him and he handed you one, sitting beside you in front of the painting.

“Janna called,” he began cautiously. “She is on her way home with your friend, Buffy. I don’t know how, but she knows.”

“She’s going to hate me for this,” You scanned the sweeping lines of a yellow skirt somewhere else on your painting, trying not to let the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes.

The door to the garage opened behind you both and you looked down into your mug, anxiously tapping your nail against the ceramic. You couldn’t bear to look Buffy in the eyes, your guilt returning in full force.

Your uncle lit a pipe and stood up as he spoke,

“She told me you would be coming. I suppose you want answers,”

“Not really.” The voice wasn’t Buffy’s.

You snapped your head towards the door to find Angelus leaning against the door frame, blocking your exit. You scrambled, picking up a fistful of wooden paint brushes off your work table in a desperate search for weapons. You spun back towards Angelus just in time to watch him snap your uncle’s neck. An arm smacked against your leg as he dropped onto the concrete floor- a sensation you would no doubt remember the rest of your life. You snapped a large paintbrush in half to give it a pointier edge, but Angelus grabbed your wrist before you could even make a move on him. This was the sickening moment you realized just exactly how tall Angelus was. Exactly how far above he loomed over you.

“Ah, ah.” He tutted at you with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to go angering the guy who holds your life in his hands, now would you?” He twisted your wrist until you let go of the brush, then wrapped his other hand around your throat and pushed you onto the worktable.

“You know, it really is embarrassing that you’re so darn fragile!”

He was laughing, but he was right. In comparison you were a mouse fighting a lion, you had no chance against him. You clawed fruitlessly at his hand, but he just squeezed harder. Your vision was already fuzzing out, and it was getting difficult to even see Angelus’ face clearly as he taunted you.

“Oh, stop squirming, you’ll be unconscious in a minute, kid. Lucky for you, I need some bait. So you get to live for a while, isn’t that exciting?!” His voice was giving you something tangible to focus on, but it was no use. Another moment and you were unconscious.

-----

Your head pounded like a drum when you woke up. You opened your eyes, but it took a while for them to adjust to the dim light. You tried to rub your eyes, but your hands were tied down to the armrests of the chair you were sat in. Your eyes darted around for any sign of Angelus, but found none. Everything was empty. Silent. Against your better judgement, you called out into the empty factory.

“Hello?”

You waited. No one responded, but you felt you were being watched.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard a small, soft melody coming from behind you. Humming. Your heartbeat kicked up a notch as you scanned the room.

“I can hear you going pitter-patter from here,” Drusilla had spoken from a place you couldn’t see. You heard each of her footsteps click closer and closer behind you until you could feel her standing just inches away. You let out a shaky breath and she shushed you quietly.

She ran her hands through your hair, dragging long red fingernails across your scalp. She began detangling your hair with her fingers, idly humming once again. You let your head tip back as she picked lightly at a particularly bad snag, dismantling it and continuing her exploration of your hair. By now you’d noticed you were crying, silently terrified and unnerved by the ministrations of the vampire behind you. She yanked a new snag in your hair and you couldn’t help the small yelp that escaped you.

“Is the doll hurting?” She pulled her hands away when she realized you weren’t going to answer her. She walked agonizingly slowly around your chair, stopping directly in front of you. “It’s rude to ignore people.” You stared at the floor, avoiding her gaze. You did notice, however horrified, that she was wearing a new, yet familiar, red dress with black lace.

You could feel her staring down at you, almost willing you to look at her. When you didn’t, she dropped to her knees to meet your eye line, resting her cheek on your knee. You studied her face as she ghosted her hand up and down your left thigh, occasionally picking at the smatterings of paint that were still all over your jeans.

“You’re an artist. I like artists,” She picked up her head and you chuckled nervously as she looked at you. In a morbid way, you were glad she liked you, whatever that meant. It might mean I live a little longer.

You looked up at the ceiling uncomfortably, then scanned the room for an escape, for something, anything you could do. She dragged her finger from your thigh up to your neck as she looked up at you. For a moment, you were scared she’d slice your throat, but she wrapped her hand around your jaw and pulled your face down gently to look at her.

“You’ll be my little pet Artist. We’ll have lots of fun together,” She stared into your eyes with a dangerous smile. She rubbed her thumb against your jawline -her hand still holding your face as she stood up- until she burst into a fit of giggles. She dropped your face and pulled her hands together, close to her chest, as she walked backwards a few paces.

As if she’d sensed him coming, Spike rolled into the room and stopped his chair just next to you. Drusilla gracefully perched herself on Spike’s lap and after a few minutes of flirting, Angelus came down the spiral staircase with the Judge, who voiced that he was ready to leave.

“About time.” Spike gave Drusilla a kiss and told her to have fun.

“Too bad you can’t come with, huh?” Angelus was taunting Spike and -despite your fear- you were studying the interactions for a better understanding of the relationships at play. Spike was staying behind under the pretense of watching you, but it was a thinly veiled jab at his current handicap. You watched silently as Angelus practically stole Drusilla off Spike’s lap before they left the factory. Spike stared at the doorway they'd left from for a while before he glanced back at you, staring at him. You dropped your eyes immediately, but it was too late.

“What are you lookin’ at?” He wheeled himself to the other side of the table.

“I won’t be in this chair forever. I’ll get back at him.”

“Of course you will.”

He squinted at you, probably just as surprised as you that’d you’d actually spoken back at him. He turned his chair and got up close to you again, murder glinting behind his eyes.

“Are you being funny? ‘Cause I could kill you in half a second, you know.”

“No, no jokes,” You shook your head at him, weakly lifting your hands within your restraints in surrender. The last thing you wanted was for him to prove just how tough he still is.

“Good, cause I would,” he pointed his finger at you as he continued on, “...kill you, I mean.”

“Right.” You squinted, processing.

“You’d do well to remember that.”

You pressed your lips together and nodded awkwardly. He stared at you about 7 seconds longer than he needed to before huffing and rolling off to another room. As soon as you were alone, you sighed in relief and stared up at the ceiling; only one thought in your mind.

Oh. My. God.

#spike #btvs #tv: btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #drusilla #drusilla x reader #drusilla x Spike #Spike x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #multichapter #chapter 1 #angel #angelus #ats #jenny calendar

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joel-millerr · 4 years ago

Text

Righting The Wrongs

Chapter Eight of We Are One When Together

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17k (yes, I know, I’m sorry)

Summary: Reader must face her past, and also deal with something they weren’t prepared to do... be without Mando.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex (like... almost causing bruising so read with caution), oral sex (both female and male receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, shower sex, hair pulling, aftercare, a little bit of violence, angst (as per usual),

A/N: I make shit up about using the force lol. also, my knowledge of coruscant is based off tcw and the prequels so if there’s something in here that doesn’t fit with the books or whatever, be nice :)

“Who are we meeting here?”

“Someone I used to work with.”

As you make your way through the streets of Level 1313, you’re almost trembling with nerves. It’s a little over a year since you’ve been on this planet and you had been avoiding coming back ever since.

Firstly, Coruscant is way too populated for your liking. The streets are always filled with people, no matter the time of day. Crime lords, spice lords, rookies trying to make a living—legally or illegally, families seeking refuge; nearly every single person from all walks of life eventually made their way to Coruscant, overcrowding the streets and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Secondly, the lower levels of Coruscant basically have their own crime empire. Every illegal thing you could possibly think of existed here. The black market thrived, and the smuggling business was always booming. Despite your old profession being one of the very empires that fueled this economy, you didn’t like the idea of living and breathing that life. There was always a need to get away, forget about the job for a couple weeks and then, when you were itching for the thrill, you’d eventually return. Unlike you, your crew would live out their days here, getting high and drinking more than their own body weight in alcohol.

Thirdly, the last time you were here… didn’t really end well. In your defense, it wasn’t your fault that a shootout ensued—you were just trying to get the right amount of payment for the right amount of work. It’s not your fault they disagreed and resorted to shooting their way out of the deal, and it’s definitely not your fault a few of them died…

Needless to say, Coruscant was just another planet that you ended up leaving on rough terms.

Mando stays by your side as you walk together, so close in fact that your arms keep brushing against each other as you trek through the lower levels of the city. Even during the day, there’s very little light down here. You’ve ever only known what it’s like to live so deep underground and sometimes you’d daydream about what a life in the upper levels looked like. Do they live as extravagant as you imagine they do? You were told by a few drunk strangers in cantinas that the people who lived in the upper levels lived in huge apartments, way bigger than they ever needed to. Was that true? The idea of someone living in a home that actually overlooks the Coruscant skyline is something you can’t even wrap your head around. You’re convinced anyone who lives up there sold their soul for it. There can’t be another reason for it.

Upon arriving, Mando thought it was best to leave the kid on the ship. You—on the other hand, noted that the safest place for him is with you two. Besides, trusting that Grogu wouldn’t get himself into trouble while you’re both gone is a risk neither of you should be willing to take. Reluctantly, he gave in and now the kid is sitting in the makeshift pouch Mando made for him.

“Mando, I don’t like this,” you mumble under your breath.

“Neither do I, but we don’t really have a choice,” he replies, keeping his visor fixated on what’s in front of him. “You can go back to the ship with the kid, if you want.”

“And leave you here alone? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Realistically, you’re both aware Mando can handle his own in whatever could happen, but over your time together, you two have become somewhat of a unit. One doesn’t leave without the other. It’s an unspoken thing—no one bothered to mention it but also, neither of you have denied the company.

Ever since Mando’s confession, there’s definitely been a shift in your relationship.

The biggest change is that he’s become much more vocal. He shares his opinions more openly, he engages in conversation a lot more, and he’s not shy about showing you small displays of affection whenever he wants. When he moves passed you on the Crest, his hand always touches the small of your back or your hand if it’s within reach.

He’s also been a lot more engaging with Grogu. You can’t help but notice that whenever he holds him, Mando flexes his finger so that the kid can wrap his little claws around it. He speaks to Grogu a lot more and in turn, the kid mumbles incoherently back at him, as if Mando can understand him.

It’s probably only been two days since Mando’s opened up to you about his favorite color—although you can’t be sure because time in hyperspace tends to blend together, but there’s been a lifetime amount of change that’s happened since and seeing him become more open and giving around both you and Grogu just reminds you of that softer side to Mando that he doesn’t share with many people.

As you look around and take in your surroundings, the streets begin to look extremely familiar. On your left, you see the diner you used to frequent with your old crew. They had some of the best sliders you’ve ever had. Even thinking about it now makes your stomach rumble.

Maybe you could pop in for a quick meal. You’re about to tell Mando about it but catch yourself just before you do.

He doesn’t take the helmet off. Kriff, how could you forget something so blatantly obvious. You haven’t even seen his face yet and for just a split second you thought he’d take his helmet off in a room full of people just to eat with you?

Stupid.

Shaking the thought of your mind, you try to ignore the sudden ache you feel in your chest.

“We’re close,” you hear Mando say and your previous thought is wiped from your mind. It’s now that you realize which cantina you’ve been walking towards, and when you turn the corner and see it, your heart drops.

The cantina you’re meeting this person Mando used to work with is unfortunately the very same cantina you used to celebrate with your squad after a successful spice run. A night full of drinking that usually ended with some random typical bar fight. Words spoken, blasters drawn, and the very rare shootout. Regardless of the night outcome, you were always back in the cantina the next night like nothing happened.

As you near the door, your feet suddenly feel like durasteel, gravity pulling you into the ground, stopping you from taking another step forward. Your heart is already in your stomach, heating your body up with haste. Stars, you haven’t been here in so kriffing long, and the possibility of getting smacked in the face with your past is something you didn’t plan.

Mando seems to sense your tentativeness because he turns his body to face you, his hand catching your forearm. “Are you okay?”

Trying to reassure him, the corners of your mouth curl into what could be considered a smile, although your eyes are screaming to leave.

Wherever he goes, you go, you remind yourself.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, passing him and squaring your shoulders just as the cantina door slides up. It’s in the early evening hours, so it isn’t too populated inside—just some of the regulars you’ve noticed that are always there, no matter what time of the day it is. Trying your best not to draw any attention to yourself, you drop your head down slightly, eyes shifting around the room, hoping you won’t catch sight of anyone who might know who you are.

Your attempts to be subtle are gone with the wind once Mando enters. The energy changes straightaway. All the chatter goes deafeningly quiet as a dozen heads turn towards you and having so many eyes on you causes your cheeks to heat up. For a moment, you had forgotten that travelling with a Mandalorian causes heads to turn and voices to hush. Of course, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride whenever you see strangers make the connection that you and Mando are together, but it’s quickly followed by major anxiety. Being stealthy and trying to keep to the shadows is damn near impossible when there’s a man standing next to you covered in what is arguably the most reflective durasteel in the galaxy.

“No fucking way,” you hear someone exclaim. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you turn your head in direction of the voice and see a female Twi’lek coming right for you. “Is that really you?”

“Dank farrik,” you mumble before they’re within listening range. Mando’s helmet cranes towards you.

“I thought you were dead!” Their arms wrap around your torso before you can even process what’s happening.

“Hey, Sula.”

“Stars, is that really you?” Another voice beckons, a hand clamping down on your shoulder, “You here for a job?” The male Rodian asks.

“Nah, not this time Odas,” you answer, angling your neck in the direction of the Mandalorian standing just a few inches away from you.

“Holy shit. A Mandalorian?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” The modulator informs you, and then he’s sauntering over to the bar. It’s not lost on you that for the first time in days, he’s left without reaching out to touch you in some way. Fortunately, you don’t have time to dwell on it before someone’s talking to you again.

“Come have a drink,” Odas begins to say, “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

Your eyes drift off to look at Mando who’s in the middle of speaking to the droid behind the bar.

“Uh—” Before you can kindly decline the offer, Sula grabs onto your wrist and nearly drags you over to the table they were all previously sitting at. Already seated is Venka, a nasty piece of work. You haven’t worked with many Trandoshans, but the ones you have worked with were ruthless and dangerous. Each of them wanted blood, no matter what the situation was.

Odas pulls a chair from a nearby table and gestures for you to sit. Unenthusiastically, you slide into the seat.

“Everyone said the New Republic got your ass. Glad to see we were wrong,” Odas says with a smile, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.

“Travelling with a Mandalorian? How the hell did that happen?” Sula asks.

“I didn’t even know there were any Mandalorians left,” Venka mutters, clearly peeved about something.

“How much are you paying him to protect you?”

“What?” Eyebrows pulling closely together, you look over to Odas quizzically.

“She’s probably paying him in other ways, if you know what I mean,” Sula laughs, bumping her elbow against your arm.

“Oh, shut up, Sula. It’s not like that.”

Odas props his elbows on the table and leans in closer towards you. “Then do tell us how you managed to slip through the New Republic’s grip and then somehow get a Mandalorian by your side, because they’re like the—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the stories. ‘Best warriors in the galaxy’. So, they say anyway,” Venka hisses through his snout.

“Still hate them, huh?” Sula jests.

“I just don’t see it. Apparently, they’re the best warriors in the galaxy yet the Empire wiped them all out.”

“If that were true, there wouldn’t be one standing just over there,” your finger points to Mando still standing at the bar.

“Oh, okay,” Sula throws her hands up in defense. “We get it, you’re with him now.”

All of a sudden, you hear Mando’s voice coming from the commlink in your ear. “Stay here. I’m going to meet them in the back.”

Your body stills, wanting to get up and join in but knowing you can’t very well just get up and leave your old friends without so much as another word. As ridiculous as it seems, you feel like you owe it to them to stick around for a bit.

“Are you all waiting for the next job?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the fact that Mando’s just gone off on his own. He can handle himself; you repeat in your head.

“Yeah, supposed to take off at first light,” Odas answers before throwing back a glass of red liquor.

“Still room on the ship, if you want to join.”

“Thanks, Sula, but I’m pretty much done with smuggling.”

Venka all but chokes on his beverage. “Kriffing hell, you’re kidding.”

Shaking your head slowly and lips pressing into a thin line, “It’s just not for me, anymore,” you say, glaring at him.

“Not for you?” He grits out.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You snap, feeling the annoyance itching inside you.

“Okay, let’s just take it down a notch, all right? We’re just a couple of old friends catching up. That’s all,” Sula interjects, in hopes to deescalate the situation.

Venka rolls his eyes before finishing his drink, swallowing it with a snarl. Why are Trandoshans so aggressive with everything that they do?

Sula clears her throat to ask, “So, what are you doing back here? Last time you were here, I believe you said, ‘I refuse to return to this shithole of a planet’.”

“I’m sure we’ve all said that about this kriffing planet at least once or twice, but we always find our way back, don’t we?” Odas says to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m not really sure why we’re here—” You start to say but are cut off by Venka.

“So, your partner doesn’t bother keeping you informed? How nice.”

“Oh, shut up, Venka. You’re so negative,” Sula scolds.

Turning your attention to him with poison in your eyes, you ask him, “What’s your problem?”

He slams his cup on the table, red liquid spilling all over the surface. It’s not uncommon for him to try and pick a fight, so you’re not entirely surprised by his behavior right now. You’ve only ever lost your temper on him once and Tye was able to pull you away before something really bad happened.

“You’re seriously going to come back here as if you did nothing wrong? Everyone—and I mean everyone here, was worried about you, and not a single fucking one of us received a hologram from you saying you weren’t in prison.

“And when Tye told us that a kriffing Mandalorian snatched you up, we thought ‘she’s a goner’. But here you are, parading him around here like a fucking trophy.”

Caught up in the moment, you almost miss what Venka’s just told you. “Wait, Tye’s alive?”

“Yeah, he’s alive,” Sula confirms.

“He managed to escape just before your ship exploded. He was pretty fucked up for a while, but he’s a lot stronger than we give him credit for,” Odas admits.

“I… didn’t know,” your voice is low, filled with guilt.

Venka laughs, answering you with derision in his voice. “No fucking shit.”

“I didn’t come here to parade him around. I didn’t even know we’d be coming here,” you explain, then angling your head to Odas, you ask, “Is Tye here?”

Before Odas can answer, Venka speaks up. “Why? So, you can finish the job?”

“Fuck you, Venka.”

Reptilian eyes glower at you, your own are all but seething in anger as you scowl back. Trandoshans—at least the one’s you’ve had the unpleasure of meeting, are always on the prowl for a fight. They purposely get under everyone��s skin in hopes to rile them up. Usually, you’ve been able to keep your anger under control but that was mostly because you had Tye to keep you in check, to bring you back down from a blind rage. Now that he’s not here, you’re sure everyone at this table doesn’t really want a fight but that they’ll happily watch if it comes down to one.

“Excuse yourself. We’re leaving. I’ll meet you outside,” Mando’s voice suddenly cuts into your ear. Thank the Maker.

“Let’s just all calm down, okay?” Odas finally interjects.

“Actually,” you start to say, taking the drink in your cup that you haven’t touched and chugging it all in one gulp, “I have to go. It was nice catching up with you guys, though.”

Once on your feet, you turn on your heel and make for the door. Just as you’re about to head out through the doorway, you hear Venka hiss at you, “Does he at least take helmet off when he fucks you?”

You should ignore him; you should just take the last two steps through the cantina door and disappear. You reallyshouldn’t turn around and punch him square in the face.

But, sometimes, they deserve it. So without another thought, you’re already stomping back over to the table, pushing chairs out of your way as you walk straight up to Venka, and punch him in the nose with so much force, he loses his footing and falls flat on his back. The cantina goes dead silent—everyone staring at you in complete shock.

“Is Tye here?” You ask, chest heaving.

“Uh… yeah, he’s at your old apartment. He’s coming with us on the job,” Sula responds, stunned that you actually just punched Venka in the nose.

“Thanks for the drink,” you say to her before whipping your body around and making your way to the door. It’s not clear, but you think you hear Venka shout something at you, something with the word ‘bitch’ in it, but you’ve already made your point. It’s not worth going back to hear what he has to say.

Looking down at the hand you used to strike him, you notice three of your knuckles are split open, little drops of blood running down your hand. In an effort to conceal this from Mando, you wipe it haphazardly along your thigh, just as you exit the doors.

Mando’s leaning against the door, his hands resting on his belt and once he sees you, he kicks himself off the duracrete wall to stand.

“What happened?” He asks, taking note of how erratic your breathing is. When the visor looks down at your hands, he grabs hold of your wrist, pulling your hand to him and inspecting the small gashes on your knuckles.

“It’s nothing,” you attempt to assume him, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but Mando’s much stronger than you, so he pulls your hand closer to his cuirass.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I really don’t want to get into it.”

His sigh breaks up in his helmet and you know he wants to press you again, but he ultimately doesn’t. “You took care of it?”

“I did.”

“Good,” he answers tentatively, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze and then letting go, starting to head for the hangar. You linger for a moment, staring down at your busted up hand and watching the tiny droplets of blood bead down your skin.

Fucking Trandoshans, you think to yourself.

As you stroll through the crowded streets, mulling over the conversation you had with your old friends, you quickly realize that if Tye really is here, you need to see him. You need to explain why you did what you did or didn’t do, as well as show him that you’re okay. Actually, that you’re more than okay. You’re the best you’ve ever felt which makes you feel incredibly guilty.

“Mando,” you call out because he’s a few feet ahead of you. He stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him.

“There’s something I need to do before I go back.”

Grogu coos worriedly, his ears drooping.

“I’ll be okay, little guy,” you assure him, simultaneously trying to convince Mando the same.

Mando shakes his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll leave the commlink open,” you say in an effort to ease his apprehension.

“No,” he says more sternly, the modulator dangerously low.

“Two hours. That’s all I’m asking for. If in two hours I don’t check in, feel free to tear this city apart looking for me, but I need to do this and I need to do this alone.”

Mando sighs begrudgingly, the sound breaking apart through the helmet. “Fine. Two hours.”

You mouth ‘thank you’ before disappearing through a crowd of people, and then darting down a dark alley.

With your hand hovering over your blaster, you slip through various streets and alleys on your way to the apartment you and Tye shared in between jobs. Every step you take makes your heart race faster, the reality of the situation sinking in. You hadn’t even taken the time to consider that Tye might not even want to see you. The last time you spoke, you hadn’t parted on good terms and now that he probably knows you’re still alive… it’s not going to be an easy conversation.

When you turn the corner onto the street of the apartment, you’re practically quivering. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage, palms are sweating, and you think about turning around. No one would know you were here if you left. The chances of you coming back to Coruscant after this are slim to none—you could do it.

No.

You have to stop running away from things that need to be faced. You’ve been running your entire life, trying to keep yourself busy in an attempt to forget about your responsibilities. Truthfully, you’re tired of running away. It’s time to right your wrongs.

Once you reach the building, your eyes slam shut and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through your lips and head inside. Climbing up the stairs slowly, you hold onto the railing to steady yourself. The anxiety is really getting to you, now.

Was this a bad idea?

Fuck.

To your surprise, the door is open. Either it’s been abandoned, or you think he’s expecting you. Feet hovering in the doorframe, the pounding in your ears is damn near deafening but you press on, taking a step forward and then another and then another until you’re standing in the hallway of the apartment. The door hisses shut behind you, causing you to jump at the sudden sound.

The place is almost unrecognizable. The furniture in the sitting room is flipped upside down, shards of broken transparisteel littered around the room, and the room’s so dark, you can barely see a thing. The only light source illuminated the room is coming from the outside lamp posts, highlighting the disaster that’s displayed in front of your eyes. You begin chewing on the inside of your cheek, becoming more aware of the possible danger you’ve just walked into.

“So, you’re alive,” you hear in the darkness.

“Tye?” You ask aloud, eyes shifting around the room, trying to locate where the voice came from.

A silhouette appears from the kitchen, illuminated by the outside light fixtures. The shadow look like him, but it also doesn’t. The voice sounds like Tye, but its’ darker, rougher.

“Kriff, you’re actually here.”

You take a couple steps forward, stopping just shy of the counter that separates the kitchen from the seating area. Tye stands in the kitchen, hands pressing into the marble surface, taking you in. As his features become clearer, your breath catches in your throat.

Your best friend since you were a child. The one person that’s saved your life more times than you can count. The single person in this galaxy that has been with you through the darkest moments in your life. The person you thought you had seen die right before your eyes, standing just a few feet away from you.

There’s a darkness in his eyes that you don’t recognize. His eyes were a gentle, warm shade of green that made others gravitate towards him. They used to bring you comfort; you could be at your lowest and then when you’d look up at him, you’d feel at ease.

Now when you look at them, all you see are broken fragments of tainted memories. Like all the pain and suffering he’s endured in the last few months has been bundled up and are now locked in his eyes for everyone to see.

You want to reach out, but something’s stopping you. There’s not a single thing you recognize about him. Hair that was once blonde is gone, shaved off. His shoulders are more sunken too. He used to hold himself with such confidence, not unlike the kind of strut that Mando carries himself with. Tye’s cheekbones are more pronounced as well, and it worries you that he’s begun using spice more than he used to.

Unsurprisingly, it was somewhat normal for smugglings get high on the supply they were trafficking, and you’ve seen Tye do it from time to time. You—on the other hand, never did. You had seen what it could do to its abusers, and you knew better than to do something that foolish. It was kind of a twisted morality code. Willing to smuggle it and let others abuse it, and yet you thought you were above using it yourself.

“What happened to you?” You ask him, completely in disbelief that this is what Tye has become.

“They said you were back, but I didn’t believe them,” he murmurs, his voice so low that you barely catch what he says, his gaze fixated towards the ground.

Maker, even the way he talks is different. Tye had the bubbliest of characters. He was larger than life, his voice echoed in every room he was in, boisterous and kind. The type of intonation that was infectious. Now, his voice is rough, it’s terse—like all the joy has been sucked out of him and now there’s just a hollow sound left.

This isn’t the man you grew up with.

The thought makes you nauseous.

Did you do this to him?

Are you the reason he’s so… different?

“Why didn’t you tell me or anyone that you were okay?” He nearly croaks.

Guilt overwhelms you. “I… thought you were dead.”

Tye lets out a noise that’s similar to a laugh, but you know damn well he means anything but that. He takes a step back, rubbing the back of his head and takes a sharp breath.

“You could have sent someone a hologram. You could have come back to Kijimi. Stars, you could have come here but you didn’t.”

Your jaw hangs, trying to find the words that might justify why exactly you didn’t tell anyone that you were never arrested, but whatever reason you come up with hangs on your tongue, unable to actually speak. It all just happened so fast.

“I had to hear from fucking Sula that you were—not only alive, but that you’re actually fucking traveling with the same Mandalorian that hunt you down. The one that shot me out of the kriffing sky,” his anger grows with every word.

“All these months, I blamed myself for what happened. I thought ‘she’s probably dead by now and that’s on me. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed’.” He rambles, voice cracking.

“I fucked up, Tye and I’m sorry, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t intend for any of this happen. Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t…” Your voice trails off, too many thoughts racing to your mind, unable to sift through them and think of a coherent explanation.

“Why are you with him?”

“He… saved my life, Tye.”

Tye crosses his arms against his chest, scoffing. “What?”

And so, you tell what happened. You tell him about Nevarro, about the Empire, about what Ahsoka told you. As you explain everything, Tye’s expression changes from resentment to almost disbelief.

“A Jedi?”

“If I wanted to train… yeah.”

“Well fuck, look at you,” he mocks.

“Don’t patronize me, I’m trying to explain myself.”

Tye holds his hands out in defense. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Wringing your hands, you wait for him to say something else… but he doesn’t. He stares at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something else.

“So… what does this mean for us, now?” Your voice is soft, hoping there’s some possibility of reconciliation.

“There is no ‘us’ anymore,” he says lowly.

“Okay, I half expected that…” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck absentmindedly.

Not surprising.

“Did you really think that you could come back here and give me some bullshit excuse and expect us to be friends again? After the shit you put me through?”

“I guess not.”

Tye says nothing else, keeping the same expression on his face. Betrayal, pain, anger. It’s all staring you right in the face.

“Time’s up,” Mando’s gruff voice whispers in your ear.

Cursing to the Maker, you want more time. There has to be something else you can say to him that’ll better explain why you didn’t ask anybody if he was still alive but then you realize, you just didn’t do enough. Quite frankly, you did nothing. You should have done something, you could have done something but ultimately, you didn’t and that’s something you’ll just have to life with.

“I should head back,” you tell Tye, who just shrugs at you. Turning on your heel, you look over your shoulder to see him still standing in the kitchen. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Please say something, you say to yourself as you make for the doorway.

He doesn’t.

“Everything all right?” Mando asks you as soon as you’re walking up the ramp.

“Yeah,” is all you answer.

He doesn’t press you, taking note of the way you’re clearly not in the mood for chatter.

You prop your elbows atop one of the crates, leaning on it and staring down at the ground. Feeling guilty about bringing down the energy inside the Crest, you find yourself trying to make conversation, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What happened with your friend at the cantina?”

“They need me to do a job, and then we’ll have enough credits to pay for the fuel we’ll need in order to get to Tython.”

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “What kind of job?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be staying here with the kid.” He answers dryly.

Stunned, you push off the crate and turn your body to him, facing Mando head on and crossing your arms across your chest.

“Is there a problem?” He asks, taking in your body language.

“What if you need help?”

“It’s a four-person job. They had three before I agreed.”

“Which means you’ll be outnumbered if something goes wrong,” you retort, eyebrow cocked.

“I need you to stay with the kid.”

You clamp down on your jaw, tapping your foot on the ground while you consider his last words. “I don’t like this, at all.”

“You don’t have to, but it isn’t up for discussion.”

“But—”

“No.”

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you know he’s right. It is safer for someone to be with the kid and it’s not exactly like you can do the job instead. Once again, you’re stuck following Mando’s orders.

“So then, when do you head out?”

“Soon. I should be back before morning,” he answers, rummaging through his armory.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Sleeping in the cockpit.”

“Mmm,” you hum in the back of your throat. Noticing Mando’s back stiffen, he takes one of the blasters off the wall, and inspects it.

As you watch him examine his weapons and take in the way he twitched hearing you purr, a cunning thought crosses your mind.

Since he refuses to let you come along, you want to give him a reason to be counting down the minutes until he’s back with you on the Crest. It’s not that you want him distracted, but the possessive side of you wants him to be constantly reminded that you’ll be waiting here—for him.

Without trying to be discrete, you saunter over to the armory, making sure to graze his arm against yours as you pass by him to pick up one of the multiple blasters hanging on the wall. Holding it your hand, you twist the gun around, in an unbashful attempt to get his attention, puffing your chest out as you stare down at the weapon in your hand. You can feel the visor on you, but you don’t look up. Instead, your gaze stays glued to what’s in your palm, knowing Mando’s studying you carefully, like he’s trying to understand what you’re trying to do.

Putting the gun back on its placeholder, you saunter passed him, the tips of your fingers hooking onto his cape, stroking the fabric between your fingers, then dropping it as you head over to the small closet where the ration packs are kept.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

Turning around to look at him, you cross your arms along your chest and with the most innocent tone you can, your tongue darts across your bottom lip and then whisper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mando tilts his head and lets out a deep breath that scratches through the modulator, but he makes no move on you. Rather, he goes back to inspecting the weapon that’s sitting on one of the higher crates.

Okay… so you’ll have to be more unsubtle. Craning your neck to either side, you let out a small groan as you hear your bones crack, but once again, Mando’s visor stays peeled to the gun. Starting to get annoyed at the lack of attention he’s giving you, you start to wonder if you should pull back, give up and wait until he comes back in the morning, but honestly? You don’t want to give up. You know you can seduce him; you just need to find the right trigger. Feeling some courage and boldness suddenly overcome you, your feet bring you over to where Mando is standing, and come up right next to him, leaning back on the crate and propping your elbows on the crate behind you, puffing your chest out even more to showcase your breasts. He glances over at you for just a moment and clears his throat. “What?”

“Nothing,” you answer with a devilish smile. You’re almost close enough for your arms to brush against each other, but you stop yourself from closing the gap.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you, voice strained and tight.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“No.”

Inching yourself closer to him, your hand grazes the vambrace on his right arm. He makes no sound, but by the way his chest puffs in and out, you know you’re getting under his skin, and that makes you even bolder. With your right hand, you grab onto his vambrace and slide between him and the wooden crate, essentially pinning yourself between the two. Mando groans deeply, his head craning to the left, exposing just the smallest amount of skin as he does. Stars, even just the sight of his neck causes you to squirm, rubbing your thighs together.

“Not enough time,” he pleads, nearly fucking panting.

“Mmm,” you whine back, bringing both your hands to grab at his waist, digging your fingernails into the fabric just above his utility belt. When Mando doesn’t pull away, you slide one of your legs between his, feeling his growing erection against your knee. His visor looks down at you and you can’t help but bite your lip in an attempt to hide the smug smile from forming. His hands are on either side of your body, pressing into the wood so hard you can hear it crackling under his firm grip.

Leaning into his body, your neck cranes upwards and you’re forced to go on the tips of your toes to whisper into the side of his helmet where his ear would be, “If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

“Fuck…” is all he manages to say, and then you’re slowly dropping to your knees, your face aligning with the bulge in his pants.

Your hands fumble down to the utility belt, but through hooded lids, you continue to look into Mando’s visor. Unhooking the belt, you push his flak vest out of your way and find the waistband to his trousers. Mouth practically watering, you swallow hard, and finally tear your eyes away to look at the bulge between his legs. Your pussy gushes as one of your hands push against the waistband to cup him inside his pants. Mando jerks forward at the touch, a guttural groan etching through the vocoder.

“Stars…”

You pull his pants down just enough for his cock and balls to spring free, and your jaw fucking drops at the sight. This is the first time you’re seeing him, truly seeing him. In that alley on Tatooine, it was too dark for you to be able to observe him, but now? Fuck, he’s a goddamn sight.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how fucking big he is, it’s a shock he’s able to fit all of himself inside you. Steadying him by wrapping your hand around him at the base, you take a moment to appreciate him. Mando’s uncut with just tip of his head poking through. There’s a bead of precome forming from the tip, and you dart your tongue passed your lips to lap it up, the taste of him on your tongue makes you hum.

Your free hand settles on his thigh, while the other begins to slowly stroke up and down his length, licking up every bit of precome that oozes from the tip.

“Ah, shit… Feels so go—” He begins to say but is cut off by you engulfing his entire length in your mouth.

Mando grazes the back of your throat, and your body tenses, fighting the urge to gag. You pull away from him slowly, hallowing your cheeks as you feel every vein of his cock until he slips through your lips with a loud, wet pop. Your tongue darts along your bottom lip, coating it with saliva before taking him once again. Repeating the process a few more times, and feeling Mando writhe from your slow taunt, he unexpectedly becomes impatient. His hips grind against you, practically begging for more. He’s entirely at your mercy, being the one in control right now is making you dizzy. To see someone as strong and commanding as Mando practically mewling because of you is sending you on a power-trip.

When you take him in your mouth again, instead of pulling away, you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock, the wet sounds echoing through the Crest walls. Already, you’re getting better at taking him into your mouth without gagging as much. Because of his size, you do end up gagging a couple times, your body tensing as he grazes the back of your throat, but you press on, because hearing Mando praise you over and over is intoxicating.

“Kriff, your mouth feels so fucking good… fuck… makes me want to bend you over his crate and fuck you until you’re begging to come.”

Hearing him only spurs you on, guiding him as far as he can go, and letting him just sit in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his girth, precome dripping down your throat. It’s salty, but it’s also the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted in your life. A mixture of saliva and precome dribbles down your chin, but you continue to swallow as much of him as you possibly can, nothing’s going to stop you from making him come like this.

Your panties are fucking soaking now, pussy throbbing and damn near hurting from the lack of touch. All your concentration is being focused on making Mando feel good, and he knows it. He knows this is for him, and he’s reveling in it.

“I bet you’re so fucking wet right now, pretty girl,” he pants, placing one of his hands behind your head and cradling it gently as he begins to fuck your mouth. Just as you start to feel him twitch inside you, a faint alarm begins to ring, and you feel him still.

He has to leave.

“I-I ha-ave to go,” he whimpers, your lips still firmly wrapped around his cock.

But you don’t stop. When you feel him try to pull away, your hands grab onto his hips, digging your fingers into him and trying your hardest to keep him right where he is, and begin sucking him even faster, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quicker pace.

“Oh fuck… that feels so fucking good.”

The alarm is still ringing, but you don’t care. You’ll make damn sure he’ll come, you just need a few more minutes…

He holds your shoulders, keeping you in place and then he’s backing away from you. His cock slips through your lips, leaving a trail of spit behind that falls down your chin. Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Mando hooks his arms under yours and lifts you to your feet, only to spin you around and push you against the crate, bending you over, the gun falling to the ground.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He growls at you, grabbing the waistband of your pants and pulling them down to your knees. “I have to leave.”

Your chest is heaving, arousal making your head spin as you wait impatiently for what he’ll do next. “So, go,” you mutter breathlessly.

“You want me to leave?” He taunts. You hear something light hit the ground, and then he’s pushing your underwear to the side and cupping your sex with calloused fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the touch already relieving some of the building pressure.

“Maker, you’re fucking soaked,” he admires, and then he’s sticking two thick fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them and hitting that spot inside you that nearly blinds you. Jerking forwards, your stomach digs into the blunt edge of the crate, but feeling Mando’s fingers fuck you overpowers the discomfort. It’s desperate, it’s rough, and hurried but that makes it all so much more exhilarating.

“I’m gonna c-come,” you pant into surface, almost surprised at how close your orgasm is.

Mando suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out of you and smearing your slick all over your entrance and clit.

The tip of his cock pokes your entrance, but he doesn’t move. He strokes himself between your folds, teasing you. “I have to go,” he groans.

You grind your hips against him, and push your ass out, arching your back in the hope that he’ll slide inside you, and to your surprise, he does. He aligns his hips with yours and slams right into you, pushing you further up the crate, fully sheathing himself between your walls.

He wastes no time fucking you, holding both your shoulders and jackhammering into you so hard, there’s no fucking air in your lungs. Your feeble whimpers are breathless and empty, jaw fully slack as he continues to wreck your cunt.

“Mando? Where the hell are you?” A voice comes from the commlink on his vambrace.

“Fuck,” he growls, somehow quickening his pace and driving you fucking insane. You don’t even know how close you are to coming until it’s ripping through you, almost making you convulse underneath him, sobbing brokenly into the air. Your fingernails are digging into the wood so violently, you hear it splinter. Knees buckling, you’re already completely spent, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re supposed to be here by now. Mando, where the fuck are you?”

Grinding his hips even more into your ass, he bends over so his cuirass is pressed against your back, his cock hitting a part inside you that only he knows how to touch. You’re so fucking full, a second orgasm is moments away if he continues to fuck you from this angle.

“Do you see what you do to me? Ah—shit, I’m supposed to be with them, but—fuck, instead I’m here,” He snarls in your ear, the side of his helmet grazing your cheek.

Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, feeling his body weight press you into the hard surface, and his cock driving you fucking wild. Your mind is blank, your throat is bone dry—unable say a fucking word. You’re helpless underneath him.

“Pretty girl, you’re going to be the death of me.”

His weight leaves you, and then he’s grabbing both your hands, crossing your arms behind your back and holding them in place with one hand. He starts a pace so mind-blowing hard, pounding his cock inside you and hitting your cervix with every thrust. It’s the most delicious pain you’ve ever experienced. If it were anyone else, you’d tell them to stop, but this is Mando. He knows what you can and can’t handle better than you do, so you let him slam into you at a grueling speed. You can hear his balls slap against your skin, and another orgasm begins to form deep in your belly.

He grinds into you a few more times and then he’s somehow burying himself even more inside you, and you snap. A second orgasm splits you apart, whatever pathetic noise comes out of you is drowned out by Mando’s guttural groan as he reaches his own climax, his cock pulsing as his seed is pumped deep inside you.

“Mando!” The male voice shouts once again through the commlink.

Even though you’re entirely spent, a laugh escapes you. He’s just completely ignored someone calling him just so he could finish fucking you.

“Coming,” he responds curtly, pulling out of you quickly and tucking himself back in his pants.

You don’t expect Mando to linger any longer than he absolutely needs to, so with the very little strength you have left and using your palms, you push yourself upright, knees shaking profusely, and to your surprise, he grabs the waistband of your pants and begins tugging them back up your legs.

“Mmm, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” you try to assure him, but he doesn’t listen. He shimmies them back up until they’re around your waist, and then he’s turning you to face him.

“I have to go,” he tells you, and you sense some regret in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave, either.

“I know,” you smile at him, sheepishly.

Mando reaches out, both of his hands cupping the sides of your face and presses the helmet against your forehead. The coolness of the beskar feels amazing against your hot skin. He lets out a deep breath, baritone dangerously low as it comes up tight through the helmet. You press back into him, closing your eyes and taking in this sweet, tender moment. Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils, the smell of beskar and Mando’s own scent—a mix of soap that you’ve grown used to smelling on yourself, as well as hints of sweetness and musk, almost drowns you but in the best fucking way possible.

“Come back in one piece, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, only continues to hold your face in his hands. Time seems to still, and for a fraction of a second, it’s just you and him. It’s somehow the most intimate moment you’ve shared. Without saying a word, you say your good-bye’s and watch him head down the ramp, waiting until he’s no longer in sight before heading the fresher.

It’s been a couple hours since Mando left, and you hate to admit it, but you miss him… like a lot. Definitely more than you should. Come to think of it, this is the first time since Kijimi that you’ve been away from each other for this long. Ever since then, you’ve been beside each other, or at the very least knew where the other was, but right now? You have no idea where he is, who he’s with or how long he’ll be gone, and you’re driving yourself crazy.

You keep commlink open—just in case anything goes wrong, he’ll be able to contact you and while you pray to the Maker that nothing does go wrong, you can’t help but wish to hear his voice through the little speaker.

A simple check-in would instantly calm your nerves, but you know better than to call him yourself. He could be hiding; he could be in the middle of a gunfight. The last thing he needs is hearing your voice asking him if everything is okay and distracting him. Needless to say, the negatives outweigh the positives, so you continue to pace anxiously up and down the galley of the ship, waiting to hear that intoxicating voice of his.

The kid’s been up for the last half an hour, babbling to himself with that kriffing ball in his grip. You feel bad for him, being stuck in this hunk of metal all the time but risking both of your safeties just for a little walk around is simply not worth it. The quicker Mando gets the job done, the sooner you’ll be off Coruscant and on your way to Tython.

You could try to get some sleep, but you know damn well you’ll be tossing and turning in the cot, anxiously waiting to hear his voice on the commlink.

There has to be something you can do that’ll keep your mind occupied…

Grogu looks up at you in your lap, cocking his head to the side as his ears peak up at you, and then you get an idea.

Ahsoka had told you Grogu was trained at the Jedi Temple for years before being forced into hiding, and since you’re both bored, this could be the perfect time to practice. Albeit, you have no idea what you’re doing, but anything is better than sitting around waiting for Mando’s return.

At first, you consider staying within the Crest, but there isn’t nearly enough room, and quite frankly, you know the two of you could benefit from not being locked up in the ship. Picking Grogu up into your arms, and grabbing your blaster, you make for the ramp and descend it. The hangar is empty, now. The owner’s retreated for the night, so you don’t have to worry about being watched.

The hangar itself is much larger than Peli’s. Easily twice the size, and it’s located on a large platform that overlooks the underworld portal. It’s the perfect place for a quick getaway and doubles as a scenic view.

Sometimes between jobs, you’d come to one of these various hangars and spend hours just looking at the steady flow of traffic coming in and out of the lower levels. You’d sit on the edge of the hangar; feet dangling in the air and stare up in amazement that something this vast could exist in the galaxy. Thousands of different beings travelling through this canal, beings you’ll never know or see again, but being aware that each of them had their own life, their own struggles and triumphs, all travelling in the same place at the same time is almost hard to wrap your head around.

You settle Grogu on a nearby table and place your blaster just to his right, making sure to turn the safety on.

“Grogu,” you say softly, holding your hand out face up at him. “Give me the ball.”

He hesitates at first, pulling the ball closer to his chest, but you continue to coax him, speaking gently until he finally places it in your hand.

“Thanks, little guy,” smiling and wiggling your finger in front of him, you then take a couple steps back.

You could try to push the stone to him, but you haven’t the slightest idea how to do that, so instead you opt to get Grogu to take the ball from your hand. Holding the ball between your thumb and index, you begin to sweet-talk him into taking the ball from you.

“Okay, let’s do this, kid. Can you take the ball out of my hand?”

His head moves from side to side and his arms reach out as far as they can, cooing happily.

“Come on, you did it with Mando. I know you can do it.”

Squinting his eyes momentarily, his hands start to twist and all of a sudden, the stone flies from your hand into his. The baby squeals with excitement, showing you the sphere in his grip with pride, and then resumes sucking on the durasteel, no longer interested in what you had planned to keep you two busy.

You smile to yourself, amazed that this little creature can do things that you would have never anticipated. The thought of reuniting him with a Jedi and the possibility of having to say good-bye breaks your heart. You’ve grown such an attachment to him. Seeing him every day, feeding him, playing with him, watching his little face light up whenever you give him the ball, and even seeing the gentleness in Mando that Grogu exudes from him, it’s all things you’ll miss dearly.

Looking down at your palm, you wonder if you’ll also be able to wield the Force and carry something over into your hand. Eyes meeting the blaster that’s resting to Grogu’s left, you begin trying to clear your mind and focus only on the gun and bringing it into your grip. Extending your arm as far as it can, you take a deep breath and exhale through slightly parted lips, furrowing your eyebrows as your concentration on the blaster grows. All the white noise suddenly drowns out, hearing only the steady thumping of the blood in your ears. Your fingers are shaking but the gun doesn’t budge. It stays completely still on the table.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, your arm drops to your side. Maker, you know it’s possible, you’ve done it before during a fight, but of course the one time you actually try to do it without having the threat of death, you’re unable to get that kriffing blaster in your hand.

Squaring your shoulders, you close your eyes and once again try to clear your mind, focusing only on the Force—feeling it flow through your body, harnessing its power, and bending it to your will. In an attempt to steady your heartbeat, you take, deep, long burning inhales, feeling your lungs expand as much as they can, holding the breath for a few seconds, and ever so slowly letting exhaling through your nose, all the while keeping your eyes closed and maintaining your focus on the Force.

You crane your neck from side to side and roll your shoulders a couple times and then your arm slowly raises once again, lining up with the blaster, and transfer all the power you feel inside you to the palm of your hand, and then to the tips of your fingers. You can picture the blaster in your head. The soft curve of the handle that connects to its clip, the narrow barrel pointed in your direction. As you continue to piece the weapon together in your mind, you start to feel a strong current flow through your veins to the palm of your hand. It’s more powerful than anything you’ve felt before, and yet it doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Instead, it feels empowering and familiar. When you finally open your eyes, they shift to your hand and your jaw damn near drops.

The blaster is in your hand, fingers wrapped around the handle tightly. Bringing it closer to your chest, you examine the gun as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it. Your eyes move between it and the table a couple feet away, completely stunned that you were actually able to do that yourself.

“Did you see that?” You call out to Grogu who’s squealing with joy. You’re not sure if he actually understands why you’re so giddy, but you’d like to think he does anyway.

Making your way over to him, you wiggle your finger in front of him and gently bop him on the nose. Not too far away, you see a piece of scrap durasteel on the floor. Peering down at Grogu, you shrug your shoulders. “Should I try it?”

He coos curiously and you take that as him saying ‘yes’. Repeating what you did previously, you raise your arm in front of you and focus on the small item and inhale through your lips, exhaling through your nostrils. Clearing your mind and only thinking of durasteel, you watch it begin to shake on the ground. Excitement sets in as it slowly lifts off the ground, hovering in the air for just a moment and then, it flies into your hand, causing you to lose your balance from the power of it.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” You exclaim.

“Holy Maker, you weren’t bullshitting me,” you hear behind you. Moving quickly, you drop the durasteel to pick Grogu up in your arms, grabbing your blaster and whipping your body around to point it at the person behind you. Tye lifts his arms, showing he’s empty handed.

“Whoa! Take it easy, I’m unarmed.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you slip the blaster back in its holster on your thigh and take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, and how the hell did you know where I was?”

“I have my ways,” he says, eyebrows darting up and down in jest. “What is that?” He asks when he sees the green baby in your arms.

“I’m not sure, really,” you answer honestly, looking down at Grogu.

“Didn’t think you had any motherly instincts.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Neither did I.”

Tye passes by you, heading for the edge of the hangar. You eye him cautiously, trying to gauge what he’s up to. When you see him sit down, feet dangling off the edge like you used to do, you walk over to him, still holding Grogu in your arms. You catch yourself just before you’re within earshot and put the kid down.

“Can I trust that you won’t tear this place apart?”

The kid mumbles something at you and begins waddling away.

“I’m keeping an eye on you, you little womp rat!” You shout at him, before strolling back over to where Tye is and sit to his right.

You’re looking at him, trying to find something recognizable about him, something that could show you he’s still the same person you knew when you were kids, but everything about him is different. He looks like an entirely new person.

“Do you remember the first time we got here?” He asks, staring at the portal’s traffic.

Your eyes leave him to look at the various ships coming in and out of the ports. “I remember thinking ‘I hate it here’.”

The corners of his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, you always hated busy places.”

“They’re just too noisy. You can barely hear yourself think down here.”

“Yeah…”

Neither of you speak for several minutes. You know he’s here for a reason. Whether it’s to forgive you or kill you, that’s probably up to what you say next.

“Tye, I’m really sorry for what I did,” you whisper, tearing your eyes away from the portal to stare at his side profile. “I was being selfish, and I didn’t take anyone’s feelings—especially yours, into consideration.”

“You know, when I got the hologram from Sula and saw Venka’s bloody nose in the background, I just knew it was you.”

Rolling your eyes, you jab him with your elbow. “You did not.”

“You’re the only person with enough nerve to punch him.”

“That’s true… It felt pretty damn good too.”

Tye chuckles, shaking his head. The sound instantly reminds you of all the moments you’d tell him a stupid pun and watch him cackle like it’s the funniest joke he’d ever heard in his life.

“Do you ever think about getting out?” You ask him.

“Getting out?”

“Yeah, putting all this smuggling shit behind you and finding a nice, quiet planet to live out the rest of your days. Meet a local girl and settle down. Maybe even have a couple kids.”

For the first time since you sat down, Tye looks over at you, and the kindness in his eyes that had seemed to disappear is looking back at you, bringing you to your younger years on Tatooine. That outgoing, carefree kid that always got you in trouble. The guy who laughed at everything, who found the silver lining in any given situation; he’s looking right at you.

“Nah, I’m not built for that kind of life.”

“Life has a way of throwing you some curveballs.”

“I see that…” he says with that smile that always brought you joy.

It suddenly dawns on you that this is Tye’s way of saying good-bye. That—after this conversation, you’ll probably never see each other again. You��ll no longer be involved in each other’s lives. There won’t be any more meetups on Kijimi or Coruscant or any other planet, and while the thought makes your chest tighten, you understand why. Honestly, you don’t know how you’d be able to forgive a friend for doing what you did, let alone have it be your oldest friend. Without even knowing it, you’ve chosen who you wanted your family to be, and to your surprise, it isn’t Tye.

Against your better judgement, you lean your head on his shoulder. At first, he stiffens, and you worry you’ve gone too far, but then he relaxes, even craning his neck to lean his head against yours, breathing you in.

“I hate to admit it, but you seem happier.” He tells you, feeling defeated.

“Hey, are you there?”

Mando’s voice in your ear makes you jump. Putting a finger up to Tye, you excuse yourself and walk back towards the Crest, just far enough so he’s no longer without earshot, all the while making the kid hasn’t gotten into any trouble. You catch him waddling around the hangar, chasing what looks to be some kind of flying insect. Womp rat.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, pressing your finger into your ear.

“The job’s taking longer than I thought. It’ll take another day or two,” he speaks low, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s talking to you.

Your heart drops. Another day? You hadn’t even considered the idea that he might be gone longer than he expected. Does he need help? Has something gone wrong? Should you ask to meet him?

“Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry I’m here,” you answer, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Don’t let the kid out of your sight. Stay inside the Crest.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll try to check in again, but I might not be able to.” There are voices in the background, calling for him. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

The other end goes silent. He’s gone.

Refusing to let yourself get too upset, you exhale through your lips and roll your shoulders, turning back over to Tye who’s still sitting on the ledge.

“What was that about?” He asks as you get closer, using his arms to push him back to his feet.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“So secretive,” he teases.

A sudden crash grabs your attention. Twisting your body in a panic, you see Grogu standing alongside a pile of miscellaneous scraps that have fallen over.

“Dank farrik. Kid!” You call out as you jog over to him. Once he sees you coming for him, he runs over to you, squealing in fear.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I got you,” you assure him, picking him up and holding him close to your chest. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

Grogu looks up at you and pouts, ears hanging low.

“I should get going. Gotta head out soon,” you hear Tye say to you.

“Okay.”

You stand a few feet away from each other, shifting awkwardly because neither of you know how to say good-bye.

“Well, um…” Tye says before clearing his throat, and then rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand.

“Good luck on your run.”

He looks down at the ground, kicking it absentmindedly with his foot. “Good luck with… everything.”

“Thanks,” you answer, voice barely audible.

You watch as Tye heads for the hangar door, waiting for him to look back, but he never does. You think about chasing after him, wrapping your arms around him one last time but your feet never leave the ground. They keep you firmly in place. With your chest tight, you expect tears to form in your eyes, but they never do. Not even seeing your best friend leave can bring you to tears. Does that make you a horrible person? Maybe.

The door hisses shut, leaving you and Grogu all alone in the hangar. You feel empty, like a part of you has walked away with Tye, and maybe there was.

He was your childhood, your adolescence… he was everything, and now he’s just gone, existing only in your memory.

“Hey,” you say, trying to distract youtself. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Grogu fusses in your arms and you head into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you and going straight for the sleeping bunk. You crawl into the cot, placing him in the makeshift hammock and closing your eyes.

It’s gonna be a long couple days without Mando.

It’s been a day since you’ve last heard from Mando, which means you’ve been stuck in the Crest for a whole kriffing day, and you’re getting serious cabin fever. There aren’t any more ration packs—you and Grogu have finished the last of them a few hours ago and you’re still hungry. You both need some real food.

Remembering that diner you and Mando passed yesterday, it makes your stomach growl. It’s almost too tempting. You’ll both get some sustenance, and you’ll get time to stretch your legs. Really, it doesn’t take you much time to make up your mind. One little venture out can’t hurt, right?

Before heading out, you make sure to take your blaster and a two vibroblades from Mando’s armory. It may seem like overkill but it’s better to be safe than sorry. With Grogu tucked in the sash across your chest, you head out of the hangar.

Walking around without Mando is more dangerous, for obvious reasons. Only an idiot would pick a fight with a Mandalorian, so wherever you walked with him, you knew you’d be safe. It’s completely different walking by yourself. You know the area, you know the safer spots to walk and the areas to avoid, but you’re sure to keep your eyes open and walk with caution. Coruscant—no matter the time of day, can be dodgy. Should you have checked in with Mando that you were going out? Probably but it’s only for an hour or two and the odds of him coming back while you’re out are slim, so you take your chances. If he’s somehow able to find out that you left the hangar after he specifically told you to stay inside the Crest, you’ll just have to deal with the consequences, but until then, you’ll enjoy the little freedom you have right now.

Trekking the same route as you did with Mando, you keep your head down and navigate through various crowds of people, all the while keeping your hand just above the blaster strapped to your thigh. Even though you hate this planet, you can still appreciate its culture, and diversity.

Here, you can see every single possible being known in the galaxy. From Jawas and Wookies, to Gungans and Vodrans. Everyone eventually came to Coruscant, no matter who they were. If it wasn’t such a shithole, you’d probably enjoy living here. The best way to learn about other planets and other beings is to come to Coruscant where they had the knowledge about such things, and knowledge in abundance. It’s the metropolitan of the galaxy and if you were able to forget about all the crime and injustices that occurred here, you could probably stay just to learn.

The diner is almost full as it’s now midday. You’re lucky enough to find an empty booth near the kitchen when an older looking woman comes to greet you at your table with a datapad in hand.

“Hi there, can I get you anything?” She asks kindly.

“Can I have some broth and a plate of sliders, please?”

Looking down at the pad in her hands, she puts in your order and looks back at up at you with a wide, toothy grin, “Coming right up, sweetheart.”

As you wait for your meal, you look out the transparisteel and watch as waves of people pass you by on the street, exchanging smiles with those you make eye contact with. You wonder what kind of trouble Mando’s getting up to out there.

Is he nearby?

Is he on the other end of the planet?

More importantly, is he safe?

You wish he were with you. The idea sounds almost too domestic, sitting in a diner with you and Grogu, sharing a meal like normal people. It’s probably something you’ll never actually get to experience together but it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming about it. Never would you have guessed that you’d be longing for domesticity, for normalcy. Mando’s brought that out in you which is pretty ironic considering neither of you have experienced something close to normalcy in years but then again, it’s pretty fitting. After living such a nomadic life, moving from planet to planet, risking your life every time you stepped out on a run, it’s all led you to this, to Mando and Grogu.

“Here you go, sugar,” the waitress says suddenly, two plates of food in her hands. She gently places them in front of you and Grogu. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Perfect, thank you,” you say, all smiles.

Grogu starts to eat immediately, grabbing the spoon with his firm grip and sipping the broth. Looking down at the food in your plate, you’re practically ravenous. This is the first proper meal you’ve had in months. While living off of ration packs have satisfied you up until this point, there’s nothing quite like munching down on real food, something that didn’t come out of a pack. You make a mental note to take some food to go before heading out, for Mando. You assume it’s been even longer since he’s had a decent meal and you’re sure he’d appreciate it.

You eat quickly, just because it’s so kriffing good. The attempts to really savor it are lost on you. The juices from the patty nearly drip down your arm, you’re sure you look a hot mess right now, but you pay no mind.

The best thing about eating something other than a ration pack is that this actually tastes like nutrition. Ration packs are just enough to keep up your strength, but they’re not made to satisfy you. It’s just to keep your body up and moving.

Before you know it, you’ve cleaned your plate. The kid has also finished his broth by now and is giving you sleepy eyes, blinking up at you slowly. A proper meal is enough to make anyone tired, including you, but there’s still a few errands you want to run before heading back to the Crest. Before leaving, you had made a list of all the things you’ll need to buy on your day out.

1. New clothes

2. Ration packs

3. Soap

4. Food for Mando

It’s a short list but having only a few hundred credits, you’ll have to budget everything very carefully, even try to bargain with merchants if it comes down to it. Luckily, you think of yourself as a pretty good dealer, so you’re prepared to do it if it comes down to that.

The waitress comes back to pick up the empty saucers and you ask her to for another platter of sliders to go. She obliges, again with a smile.

While you wait, you take the opportunity to pick a sheepish Grogu and place him back in the pouch across your chest and walk over to the counter to wait. Within a few minutes, the kind woman reappears from the kitchen with a paper bag in her hands.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you answer, taking the bag from her hands, and placing a few credits in her hand.

“Safe travels, my dear.”

Offering her a smile, you turn on your heel and head out the door, back into the mayhem that is Level 1313.

Based on memory, you walk in direction of where ration packs are sold, remembering all the times you used to come to this very spot just before leaving for a job. Every building, every street sign, it’s all familiar. It’s like you’re taking a stroll through the past, almost seeing your old self in strangers you pass by, realizing how much has changed since you were last here. It’s funny to think that on a planet as vast and modern as Coruscant, you seem to be the only thing that’s actuallychanged. You’re no longer just looking out for yourself. Now, you worry about Grogu’s safety, you worry about Mando’s safety. It’s a change you couldn’t have anticipated but are so thankful for.

The merchant selling the ration packs cause you a bit of trouble, claiming the broth packs and bread packs are different prices—which you know is bullshit because you’ve been buying them for years. You’ve seen him do this before, to other women who try to buy packs. Why he thinks he could increase prices for women and not men are not unusual. Men tend to think women don’t know the actual price of packs and can therefore get away with selling them at a different price. It happens so often that most of the time now, women have their male counterparts buy the packs for them, since the exchanges usual end with them not receiving any packs at all, but you know his game. He’s been trying to hustle you for years and has never been able to get the best of you.

“This is enough for five packs, that’s all,” he says when you place some credits on the table.

“No, that’s enough for two weeks’ worth of packs,” you snarl back.

The man laughs at you. “Maybe on a smaller planet, but you’re on Coruscant, girl. It’s more expensive, here.”

“That’s such bullshit and you know it. Give me two weeks’ worth of packs and I’ll be out of your way.”

He scowls at you, his eyes glaring you down. “Have you gone deaf? I said five.”

Taking a deep breath, and craning your neck to either side, you press your palms into the table, leaning forward and stopping just inches from his face. “I’ll say it just one more time. Give me the fucking packs.”

“Hey, we’re all waiting over here!” You hear someone in line shout at you.

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“I can stay here all day, and you’ll lose out on way more than just a handful of packs,” you tell him, taking a step back and crossing your arms against your chest. “Your call.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. You can tell he’s considering it by the way he continues to glare at you. It’s not worth losing out on a whole day’s worth of business just for a handful more packs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, grabbing two handfuls of ration packs and throwing them on the table.

“Thank you,” you sneer, grabbing them all and stuffing them into your backpack.

1. New clothes

2. Ration packs

3. Soap

4. Food for Mando

The rest of the afternoon goes by smoothly. You manage to get everything you needed without overspending, and you’re pretty proud of yourself. By the time you’re back on the Crest, the kid’s fallen asleep. You bring him up to the cockpit and put him down on one of the chairs and let him sleep. Since you’ll be rummaging through the galley to put everything away, this is probably the quietest place for him to sleep. After putting him down, you descend the ladder and begin unpacking everything you bought today. Placing the ration packs where they belong, the soap in the fresher, and checking out the new clothes you got. Nothing too extravagant, just another dark colored tunic and some cargo pants but it’s perfect for you.

You look down at the commlink on your wrist, checking the time. It’s early evening, making it almost a day and a half since you’ve heard from Mando, almost two days since you’ve last seen him, not that you’re counting the days.

Okay, you are but that’s not the point.

The point is you miss him terribly. Each hour that passes is an hour closer until you see him again, but it’s also another hour that you haven’t seen him, and your body aches. Is that possible? To miss someone so much that it actually hurts your body? The only logical explanation is that he’s taken a part of you with him, leaving you with a gaping hole inside your body, waiting for his return and waiting for him to refill it. It can’t be that it’s just because you miss him so fucking much, it can’t be.

It can’t be…

You’re half-asleep in Mando’s seat in the cockpit when you hear the hangar door slide open. Eyes opening immediately, the familiar sight of shimmering beskar instantly releases all the tautness in your body that you held onto while he was gone. The relief and joy you feel seeing him after basically two days apart reminds you of something like teenage love. The inability to be away from one another even if just for a couple of days is almost embarrassing, given that you’ve tried so hard to distance yourself from the very love you have for Mando, but quite frankly, it feels fucking amazing to have someone to care for this much. The kid is still asleep in one of the passenger chairs, so you get up ever so quietly from your seat and tiptoe your way to the ladder.

Once you hit the ladder, you shut the cockpit door and then you’re racing down the ladder, jumping off of it before you reach the bottom. You heart is racing, the smile on your face is impossible to hide—not that you’re really trying to, anyway. Standing just at the end of the ladder, you watch as Mando heads up the ramp without a word, pressing a button the vambrace that shuts the ramp behind him. Once closed, the air surrounding you changes drastically. The smile disappears from your face, and all of a sudden you feel heat prick at your cheeks.

He damn near stalks towards you, only stopping momentarily to detach the jetpack from his back and then placing it on the ground lazily. It topples over, the noise making you jump but he doesn’t bother to bend over and pick it up. Mando’s got the visor planted on you, and you’re frozen in place, a pool of arousal begins to build in your lower stomach causing your jaw to slack open. Half of you wants to cower, to hide at the sight of him. A Mandalorian pursuing anyone is enough to trigger the fight or flight response but there’s something animalistic in the way he’s coming for you, and you’d be lying if your panties weren’t drenched right now.

“Close your eyes,” he says breathlessly as he draws in closer.

You obey immediately, and suddenly hear a hissing noise, followed by something heavy hitting the ground—his helmet? Before you can ask him, his hot lips crash into yours, pushing you up against the small wall that separates the refresher from his bunk. Large, gloved hands wrap themselves around the crooks of your neck, his thumbs resting on your cheeks. The yelp you let out in surprise is caught in his mouth, his tongue darting out to trail along your bottom lip before meeting yours.

The kiss is sloppy and rushed. His hands grab at your body, your waist, the small of your back, and then settle on your hips. Your own hands fly up to grab fistfuls of his hair. His locks are damp, probably due to sweat, and you pull tighter. Mando groans lowly in the back of his throat, feeling the vibrations in yours as your cunt throbs in response. He smells of gunpower residue and musk. It fills your nostrils, almost making you lightheaded from the sensation, it’s somehow the sweetest scent you’ve ever smelled.

Both of your chests are heaving, the need to pull away to catch your breaths continuously increasing. You continue to grab at each other hastily, one of his hands wrapping around your neck and craning your jaw to expose naked skin. His lips finally leave yours, although not without you trying to keep him still, and then he starts sucking at your neck. The stubble along his jaw scratching against your skin feels so fucking good.

“Thought about you… the whole… time… couldn’t… focus…” He growls into the crook of your neck between chaste kisses, already feeling the skin starting to bruise.

Maker, is it even possible to be this turned on, right now? Mando’s desperation throws you for a loop. You knew how much you missed him, but knowing he felt the same way is so comforting. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Need… need… to have you—"

“Stars… please…” You mewl back, hands dropping to his hips and pulling him closer to your body, his breastplate flush against your chest.

“Have to clean up first,” he whispers lowly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice is velvet smooth, like dripping honey. How can he be so gentle and commanding?

“Shhhh,” you tell him, before blindly grabbing at his arms in hopes to find his pauldrons and when you do find them, you start to detach them. Throwing them aimlessly on the ground and return grabbing at whatever piece of armor you can, you try to pry it off his body as he continues to lick and suck at either side of your neck.

It’s a little awkward trying to undress him while being so close to each other. You can’t even see what you’re doing so you’re sure it’s not the most elegant way of stripping him, and he seems to pick up on it because he finally pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. You feel his hot breath on your even hotter skin and the urge to open your eyes almost takes you over, wanting so desperately to look into his eyes and see him.

“Let me do it,” he coaxes, barely above a whisper.

“But—”

He presses his lips onto yours once more, and just when you try to deepen the kiss by moving closer towards his body, he breaks it off. Immediately, you begin to hear various pieces of his armor hit the floor, heart banging against your ribcage in anticipation. Stars, you want him so fucking badly. You become impatient, grabbing the hem of your tunic and beginning to lift it up your chest.

“No,” Mando orders.

Feeling his body close to yours again, his hands grab onto your wrists, placing them on his waist. Rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, you assume he’s wearing only a long-sleeved tunic now. It’s soft to the touch, just like his skin. As your fingers trail down his sides to the hem of his shirt, you hike it up just enough for your thumb to circle the v-lines of his stomach, feeling small bumps form on his skin.

Mando grunts through gritted teeth and then he’s dropping to his knees. Your hands are back in his hair, running your fingers through his wavy locks. He grabs the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them all the way down your thighs, lifting each of your legs and helping you slip out of them. Discarding them to the side, Mando’s calloused fingertips trail up your legs, kissing the very tops of your thighs as he makes his way to your underwear.

Placing a chaste kiss on the thin piece of fabric, you can’t help but tremble. Mando’s ability to be rough one minute and then gentle the next is quite literally mind-blowing. It keeps you on your toes, never knowing exactly what’s going on in his brain.

He hooks his fingers around the hem of your underwear and slowly pulls them down. You’re naked from the waist down and beginning to feel shy, being exposed and the fact that you’re unable to open your eyes and see his face or gauge his body language—it’s eating you up.

His fingers slide between your legs, tracing all the way up the apex of your thighs, forming goosebumps on your skin. Once he reaches your cunt, two fingers slip between your folds, coating them with your slick.

“So wet, pretty girl,” he admires.

All you can do is mewl when he touches you. Mando continues to massage his fingers between your folds, gathering as much of your slick as he can and then he’s pushing two digits inside you, causing you to lull your head back and accidentally hitting it against the back wall a lot harder than you expected.

“Fuck, that hurt,” you giggle, hands rubbing the back of your head.

“Are you okay? He asks, stilling his fingers inside you.

“I’m fine—ah shit,” you answer just he begins to curl them inside you, hitting that angle that only he knows how to reach.

Rubbing tight circles on your clit with his thumb, you arch your back, pushing your hips right into Mando’s face. Using his free hand, he holds the small of your back in place and darts his tongue out to lick at your bud. Your whimper echoes through the Crest’s walls, his tongue flicking your clit as he continues to finger fuck your cunt. All you can do is pull on his hair tighter, unable to move or squirm as he holds you in place.

Knees beginning to buckle, you can feel the stirring in your stomach gradually building, your orgasm bubbling up to the surface. Mando seems to catch this because he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quicker pace, now sucking on your clit and making you fucking squirm.

“Ma-Mando, I’m g-gon-nna come soon,” you tell him, voice breaking.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flings one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your legs apart and lapping you up with even more fervor. You’re basically quivering now, climax getting closer and closer, and Mando knows it. He knows your body better than anyone else, better than you know yourself.

“Shit, ah-fuck, Mando…”

Right as you feel yourself about to release, Mando pulls his fingers out of you and his tongue leaves your clit, placing a chaste kiss on your inner thigh and then rising to his feet. It’s damn near impossible to hide your disappointment. It’s infuriating—being so fucking close to release, only to be denied at the very last second.

“Why—” You begin to ask but the rest of your question is silenced by his lips crushing onto yours. His tongue finds yours and you can taste yourself.

“Shhhh,” he whispers onto your lips, and then he’s pressing his body on yours once again, arms wrapped around your back as he carries you into the fresher.

The space is just big enough to fit you both, your bodies practically stuck together. Your eyes are still closed and that only adds to the intimacy. His hands grab onto the hem of your tunic and he instructs you to lift your arms. You do as your told and he lifts the shirt above your head, discarding it at your feet. You stand there, naked and fully at his mercy.

“You can open your eyes,” he says just after hearing the door slide shut. At first, you hesitate, unsure if the room really is pitch black or if he’s trusting you enough to look at his face. When you finally do open your eyes, you can’t see a damn thing. The light inside the fresher is off and you feel a sudden rush of relief and disappointment wash over you because of course he’d make sure the room was dark enough so you couldn’t see his features. Why would you think he’d be comfortable enough to show you his face?

You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s already pushing you up against the wall, hands resting on the wall to either side of your face and sucking at your neck once again. The skin is tender, little bruises protruding along the sides of your neck, but Mando is mindful enough to be gentle. Then his mouth trails down your neck, giving chaste kisses along your clavicle, travelling down just above your breasts, cupping the flesh with his hands. With his thumb and index, he rolls your nipple, pinching the skin and then giving it a gentle nip with his teeth.

“Maker…” you whisper in awe. No one has ever been so tender with you. With all your previous sexual encounters, you’ve made it clear that it was purely about sex—nothing more. With Mando, everything is different. Neither of you are in a rush. You take time to understand each other’s bodies; what makes you writhe, what makes you scream, what makes you come. It’s about what will bring out the most pleasure in each other. You could both spend the rest of your lives learning everything about each other, from the curves in your skin, to each birth mark, to each scar.

He pulls away momentarily and using what little time you have; you grab only his hips and spin you both around, so he’s flush against the wall. Your fingers grab onto the bottom of his shirt once more.

“Can I?” You ask him tenderly.

Mando says nothing and you take that as him consenting. You hike up his shirt just a little bit, waiting for him to either stop you or allow you, and when he lifts his arms up so you can remove it, you throw it on the ground, somewhere close to where your own shirt is. You stand just inches apart from each other, neither of you are able to see the other. Wrapping your arms around his biceps, feeling the curve of his muscles as your fingers trace down his arms, across his chest.

His chest is covered in marks, scars from previous battles he’s fought in. Your fingers brush over his pecks, down the centre of his stomach, all the way to the small trail of hair that meets his shaft. When your hands settle on the waistband of his trousers, you unbuckle them and begin to push them down. He helps you a bit, stepping out of his pants.

In the fresher, you’re both fully exposed, completely vulnerable in a way you’ve never been before. The last time you were in here together, it was after the first time you had sex. That was different. You were both still dazed in the aftermath of what happened, neither of you fully aware of each other’s own nakedness, but now it’s so different. You’re not only aware of each other’s vulnerability but you’re relishing in it.

Mando turns the water on. A warm, steady stream cascades over your bodies. Steam from the warm water quickly fills the air, blending with each other’s body heat. Within seconds, you’re both soaked and for the first time, you’re the one who leans in for a kiss. For the first time, you’re the one with the courage to plant your lips on his, to catch him off guard. Mando groans in his throat, catching the sound in your own and swallowing it. With your hands placed on either cheek, you think this might be the first time anyone’s actually held his face and Maker, how fucking lucky you are to be the one to do this. He’s opened himself up to you; something he’s never done with another soul. You might not know what his face looks like, but you’re able to make out enough of his features by touching them. The sharp cut of his jawline where you feel his stubble, his moustache has tickles and pricks at your skin whenever he kisses you. The curve and bump of his nose as it clashes against yours, it’s enough for you to paint a picture of what you think he looks like, and if he looks anything like what you’ve made up in your mind, it’s a damn shame that the helmet covers up something so breathtaking.

You lean down to plant a kiss on one of his pecks, feeling the goosebumps form right where your lips meet his skin. There are a million things you want to tell him: how much you care for him and Grogu, how much he’s changed your life, how thankful you are to have him by your side. All these things you’ll probably never be able to tell him because expressing how you feel about someone has always been something you struggled with.

Although, you get the feeling Mando is in the same boat. Like he too is carrying the very same confessions as you that he too is unable to express. Maybe you’ll never know how he truly feels about you, just like he might never know exactly how you feel about him, but sometimes, words aren’t necessary. It’s more about the way you lean on one another, the way you touch one another. It’s your own way of communicating. Expressing yourselves through each other’s actions—that’s what draws you together.

He deepens the kiss, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you to him as close as he can. Sloshing your mouths together, darting each other’s tongues, lips saturated in each other’s spit, it’s the most chaotic, desperate kiss you’ve ever had. When you finally pull away, chests are heaving, you’re both practically panting into each other’s mouths.

Mando takes a small step forward, hooking his hands under your arms and lifting you off the ground. You lock your legs around his waist, feeling his rock-hard cock grind against your stomach and then, your back’s on the wall again. His large hands cup your ass, digging half-moons into your skin as he nips at your shoulder.

“Fuck me … please,” you pant in his ear. His cock twitches, feeling drops of precome paint your stomach.

He wastes no time obliging as one of his hands lets go of you to align himself with your entrance. You wait impatiently for him to fill you up.

His head pokes at your entrance and immediately you feel your pussy gush. Bucking your hips forward, you push his head inside you, a pathetic mewl escaping your lips.

“Impatient,” he scolds and thrusts himself inside you all the way to the hilt. “Fu-u-uck,” he grits, biting back a moan.

Your head drops down to rest on his shoulder, arms crossed around his neck. Mando doesn’t move at first, letting your walls acclimate to his size. When he feels you relax around him, he begins to slowly grind his hips against yours, making sure you feel every fucking inch of him inside you. Trying to stifle your moans, you bite down on his shoulder and he whimpers at the sensation, driving himself even deeper, hitting your cervix.

“Fuck!” You cry out, head lulling back to hit the wall behind you.

Mando begins properly moving, slamming into you at a fast pace. The sound of skin slapping skin is only exacerbated by the water still pouring down over your bodies.

“Ah s-shit… fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Mando says through gritted teeth. You clench your legs around his waist and feel him grind his hips in response. “Kriff…”

He stills inside you for a moment, and you start to wonder if he came prematurely. When you open your mouth to say something, he answers the question before you can ask it.

“I didn’t come, don’t worry,” he mumbles breathlessly, and then he’s pulling out of you.

It’s stupid but you feel empty. You already miss the feeling of his cock stretching your walls, the way he fills you up so perfectly, like you were made to take him.

Your feet touch the ground, and you only have a moment to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. Tongues darting out to catch each other’s; it’s a wet, sloppy kiss, but with his hands cupping your face, hands that almost cover your face entirely, it nearly throws you for a loop.

He pulls away just far enough so you can still feel his breath on your lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Maker, you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you just from his words. Turning you around so that you’re facing the wall, you hear him spit and then his cock is teasing your entrance again. Rubbing his length between your folds a couple times, slathering it with your slick, he lines himself up and slams into you with as much force as he can, knocking the air right out of your lungs as your cheek clashes with the durasteel wall.

His hands find their way to your hair, and he grabs as much of it as he can and pulls, forcing you to arch your back and steady yourself by holding onto the wall in front of you. The rhythm he sets is so brutal and rough, the only thing you can hear are his balls slapping against your clit. Your throat is raw, unable to make a single sound. Wrenching your eyes shut, the way his cock hits that spot inside you is making you see stars. There’s something desperate in the way he’s fucking you. The day and a half without you seemed to have really taken its toll on him, and now he’s taking it out on you. You’d let him leave without a fight if it meant you’d get fucked like this whenever he came back. Feeling your slick drip down your thighs, you know you’re so close to coming.

“Ma-ando, I’m go-o-onna c-c-come.”

“Good girl,” he praises.

When you finally come, the cries burn your throat, raw and broken. Mando fucks you all the way through it, never once relenting his rhythm, pushing as many whimpers and screams out of you as he can. Your body nearly convulses from the sheer power of your climax, exploding pleasure from every nerve-ending inside of you. Maker, you’re fucking spent. Knees barely able to keep you standing, almost going limp as you come down from your orgasm.

“Come again for me, pretty girl,” he says gently, dropping one of his hands to spread your legs and cup your sex.

“I-I can’t,” you answer with a trembling voice, making a feeble attempt to close your legs.

“Yes, you can,” he hums, forcing your legs open and using two fingers to rub your clit.

You squirm underneath him, the overstimulation really hitting you as the rhythm on your bud gets faster and faster. Your cunt is fucking worn out, you’re barely able to take any more pleasure but you refuse to let Mando down. You want to make him proud. Taking a shaky breath, you attempt to relax your trembling thighs and within seconds you’re coming again, biting down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll end up breaking skin.

Mando makes a guttural noise, a purely animalistic groan as he feels you come around his cock. “Fuck, yes… good girl,” he growls with praise.

Grabbing your upper arms, he pulls you upright and flush against his chest, peppering wet, messy kisses along the nape of your neck. Your arm wraps around the back of his neck, pulling at his wet hair. His cock drives into you at a ruthless pace, and then he finally stills inside of you. Pulsing between your walls, he pumps his seed deep in your pussy, moaning your name into your ear.

When his hold on you slackens, you nearly double over and fall to the ground. He pulls out of you quickly and lifts you back up to your feet. Turning you around gingerly to face him, he leans you up against the wall.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He says with his hands on your face, a hint of guilt lingering on his lips.

You’re pretty sure your eyes are closed but you can’t be sure. Everything is so dark, your mind fuzzy. “No, ‘m okay,” you answer sheepishly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m okay, Mando.”

Feeling his forehead press yours, he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. If you had any energy left, you’d kiss him back but you’re teetering the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, too fucking exhausted to move any of your muscles.

After that, your mind goes… fuzzy.

It hits you in flashes.

You vaguely remember Mando cleaning you both up.

The water turning off.

Being guided out of the fresher.

Something being wrapped around your body—soft and warm, his cape probably.

Him slowly putting you down on the floor…

Someone warm close to you.

And then you fall asleep, the last thing you remember is feeling calloused fingertips grazing up and down your back.

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