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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year ago

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An Afternoon with Minerva

Summary: Ari finds himself finally ready to admit the truth about his feelings for you...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Slight Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death, Cancer, Dead Mothers, Brief Mentions of War, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Somewhere Four Hours Outside of Bell’s Creek, Texas

“Shit!” Ari hisses when he almost slips in the middle of trudging up the muddy hillside. It had been raining pretty much non-stop since he’d made it out of Dallas and it hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down.

But that hadn’t been enough to stop Ari Levinson – not today anyway. Today he was a man on a mission. And that mission involved a meeting with a very special woman. The very first love of his life, and he’d almost missed it.

What kind of son forgot about his own Mama’s birthday? Not him. Otherwise he would’ve never heard the end of it from Evelyn and Marcia.

He knew without having to call them that his sisters had already been by with their families earlier in the day. And the last thing he needed was them throwing a fit over his absence, no matter how justifiable it might’ve been.

The Bounty Hunter nearly stumbles again as he weaves his way through the numerous memorials and monuments. He tries to move carefully, doing his best not to disturb the tributes dedicated to others’ loved ones who’d all gone too soon, regardless of how much time they’d spent on this earth.

And his sweet Mama was no exception. She’d left him just shy of his 21st birthday. He’d been by her side, holding her hand as she took her last breaths. Which seemed only fitting since she’d been there holding him on the day he’d taken his first.

Cancer had done his Mama dirty. But while it had robbed her almost everything – her hair, her ability to walk, and ultimately her life – her fighting spirit had remained. Minerva “Minnie” Levinson had gone out swinging, leaving him behind to see after his two younger siblings.

A sixteen-year-old Evie had been so angry back then. So small, but so unbelievably pissed at the world. Meanwhile, sweet baby Marcie had clung to him so tight he’d damn near had a fight on his hands whenever he wanted to take a piss by himself for longer than two minutes. That ten-year-old might as well have been his second shadow.

He’d honestly had no idea just how much he missed her following behind him until he’d been deployed overseas during his first tour. But they'd needed the money and the benefits. And he’d needed an enemy – someone or something that could help him channel all of the rage and anger and hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface.

So he’d left them behind to help fight another man’s war. But not before entrusting his sisters’ care to his friend, Vicky Gunther. And at the time, the fact that she’d also been his highschool sweetheart had felt like an added bonus.

It hadn’t necessarily mattered that his mother had never been too crazy about the woman. But what had mattered was that the girls had someone he knew to look after them while he was out risking his life.

Ari’s grip tightens on the flowers in his hand as he finally finds himself nearing his Mama’s grave. Evie and Marcie had picked it out, all he’d done was sign off on the check. They’d assured him that it was exactly what she would’ve wanted, right down to the quote etched into the granite, which read: “Always keep them guessing.”

That had been Minnie Levinson’s favorite phrase whenever they pulled up in a new town. When you’d grown up being on the run, staying one step ahead of your opponent was an absolute must. Especially when that opponent happened to be your own damned father. Growing up the son of Rex Levinson meant always having to look over your shoulder.

Because you never knew where he might be lurking. He could be states away or, more likely, right around the goddamned corner. Waiting to strike when his poor, terror-stricken family least expected it.

So they’d had to learn to always expect it. Even now, the only reason Ari felt any peace was because his Daddy was currently enjoying an all-inclusive, taxpayer funded 15 year stay at the James Crabtree Correctional Center in Helena, Oklahoma.

Thankfully, Rex still had a few years left on his tab before society deemed his debt to them finally repaid in full. Once he was released, he’d deal with it then. But right now…

Now it was time to see about his Mama. And this chat that they were about to have was long overdue.

A smile finds its way to Ari’s lips once he’s finally standing in front of his mother’s memorial. He pauses briefly before crouching down to place the bouquet he’d brought with him next to the offerings left behind by other members of his family. Although he wasn’t surprised, he was happy to see that they’d all brought daylillies, which had been her favorite.

“Hey. Happy birthday, Mama.” Ari whispers, allowing his fingers to brush along the cool granite. “I made it. Just like I told you I would.” His eyes flutter closed as a light breeze blows by, gently ruffling his chestnut locks.

It was a sign from Minerva herself, letting him know that she was there with him too. Just like she said she would be. And his Mama had never been one to lie to him. Not even in death.

“I see the girls have already been here. I’m surprised they haven’t blown up my phone.” He stands then, grimacing when his left knee cracks as a result of the movement. It seemed like that old injury only bothered him when it rained. Shit sucked.

“I’m sure Evie brought by baby Micah for his first visit. He’s cute ain’t he? Little chubby-cheeked shit machine.” Ari chuckles at that, scrubbing a big hand over his heart. “And I’m not being rude. First time we met he had a blowout in his diaper that was so bad we both needed a shower.”

He laughs harder at the memory of him desperately trying to hand off his incredibly messy nephew to first his own Mama, and then his sister. They’d swerved him so fast, claiming that it was about damned time he learned how to change a diaper.

He’d been mighty pissed at the time. But even so, he and baby Micah had stomped off to the bathroom, determined to handle the stinky situation like a couple of real men. And when they’d emerged from said bathroom forty-five minutes later, they’d been the ones to have the last laugh.

Okay, not really. Micah’s mother, Evie, had been too busy napping on the couch to notice much of anything, her body buried beneath a sea of half folded laundry. And Marcia was playing Go Fish with their four-year-old niece Isobel. But Ari hadn’t allowed the lack of fanfare to take the wind out of their sails.

He’d just grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and retreated to his sister’s bedroom, intending to teach the kid about the importance of football until they’d both dozed off. And he still had the picture Evelyn had taken of them both that afternoon, fast asleep in the bed. The baby rocking a Dallas Cowboys onesie, and him wearing her lavender bathrobe.

“They were just jealous, Mama. There I was being a good uncle, bonding with my nephew, and they were playing paparazzi.” That breeze kicks up again, the smell of wet earth filling the air.

“But I’m sure you already know that. You were there. You saw everything. Those two were picking on me like they always do.” Ari pouts then, jamming his hands into his pockets. “There’s just something not right about those girls. Everytime I’m around ‘em, they pinch and poke and prod. Always asking if I’m seeing someone.”

“It’s annoying is what it is. Makes me feel like a damn pincushion or somethin’.” The Bounty Hunter grumbles, nudging a tiny weed with his foot. “How am I supposed to tell ‘em anything if I haven’t run it by you first? Especially when it’s…when it’s…” He trails off as he searches for the right word.

“Real.” He sucks in a breath as his head dips to his chest. “It’s real and it’s right and it’s new. It’s all those things, Mama. And I don’t know what to do with any of it because it’s like I spend half the damn time fightin’ with myself and the other is spent fightin’ her wanting to fly away on me.”

One hand leaves his pocket to rest on the back of his neck. “And I know what you’re probably thinking, Mama. But that ain’t the issue. This woman, my little Bird…she ain’t Vicky.” He rocks back on his heels, careful not to slip in the rain soaked grass.

“And I know you didn’t much care for Vicky. I already told you that I made a mistake with that one. I thought I was doing a good thing leaving the girls with her…” A harsh sigh leaves him as a fresh wave of bitterness rises in his throat. But he swallows it down, refusing to let it choke him.

Because there was more to be said about the woman in his life today. His woman. His sweet Bird.

“Bird is everything I thought Vicky was. But it’s more than that. She’s the best part about that godforsaken Bell’s Creek. And something tells me that she’s wading knee deep into a pile of shit with this fuck, Martin, and these assholes, the Prescotts. It’s all one big mess that I normally would be chompin' at the to get rid of…”

Ari’s head drops again as he prays for another gust of wind, wanting another sign from his Mama to let him know that she was still listening. He doesn’t speak again until he feels it on his skin. This time it’s a loving caress, a gentle reminder that he’s not alone.

How could he be when he had Minnie Levinson by his side?

“I haven’t had a single nightmare since I met her. I’m not saying I’m fixed or anything…” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “But maybe I’m not quite as broken as I thought I was. At least she sure doesn't seem to think so. She just tells me I am an ass.”

The sound of squirrels playing in a nearby tree is enough to distract him, albeit briefly. Once they settle down he quietly forges on.

“Ma, I swear this girl is really something special.” Ari whistles, running a hand over his beard. “Sweet, funny, absolutely gorgeous – and did I tell you she runs a bookstore? Can’t go and leave that part out now can I?”

By now the rain has stopped, with the sun finally beginning to emerge from behind the clouds. He welcomes the warmth it brings. His Mama deserved to enjoy a little sunshine on her special day.

“She – we fight like cats and dogs sometimes - my Bird and I. But that’s not really my fault. I mean I consider myself to be plenty damn agreeable with most things. But my woman…let’s just say I’ve met mules less stubborn than she is. But even so, it’s…it’s like I can’t get enough of her.”

Ari blows out a comforting breath before closing his eyes, his fingers going to the bridge of his nose. “She’s…she’s making me wanna stay. Got me wantin’ to plant roots and build her a house, complete with the white picket fence.”

“I’ve been lost since the moment I laid eyes on her, Mama. And nothing feels right unless I’m with her. When she’s not around it’s like I can’t think – I’m off balance and…” He swallows thickly. “Like even now, I’m here with you and there’s a part of me that is just itchin’ to get back in my truck and haul ass all the way back to Bell's Creek. I mean, I suppose I could’ve brought her with me.” He cocks his head to the side as the thought strikes him. “She would’ve come, but I couldn’t...”

Ari goes back to awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I couldn’t bring her here because I needed to talk to you about her first. Introduce her properly so that I could tell you myself that I…” He swallows again, fighting the lump in his throat.

“I love her, Mama.”

There. He’d gone and said it. Not in his head. But out loud to the air. To the world. To his Mama.

“And that sweet little spitfire makes me work for it every day. I’m telling you right now that she needs a damn keeper. And I need her to keep me…balanced.”

A grin spreads across his features as he feels the weight he’s been carrying suddenly lift from his shoulders. “I’m gonna introduce her to the girls, okay Ma? I know they’ll love her like I do. But can you do me a favor and tell ‘em to be nice? You know they never do anything I say.”

Ari bends down to let his fingers graze over his mother’s headstone one last time. “And when the time is right, I’ll bring her here to meet you too.” He murmurs, wishing for a moment that they were actually speaking face to face instead of like this. But unfortunately, that couldn't be helped.

“Until then you rest easy, alright? Because me and the girls are doin’ just fine.” He takes a tentative step backwards. “I love you, Minnie Levinson. And I’ll be back to see you real soon.” Ari turns on his heel, preparing to navigate his way back to his truck.

Halfway through the maze he pulls out his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he lights upon your name. He taps the entry before holding the device to his ear. The sound of your voice on the other line is enough to ease the subtle ache in his chest. At least for now. But he also knew from experience that it wouldn’t go away until he had you in his arms again.

Just four measly, lonely hours until Ari Levinson felt whole again.

END

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kometqh · 15 days ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

Viscount!Captain Rex x Maid!F!Reader Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt4 tbc.

Under the Viscounts' impatience, the two of you retreat to the village to solve important business matters. Throughout your journey, the Viscount reveals a side of him that no one but his brothers have had the fortune to know, and you're left stunned and wondering as a surprise guest makes an appearance upon your return. Word Count: 8,181 Warnings: Minor depictions of sexual activity, jealous, confusing Rex. A/N: This took forever to write but I wanted to focus on placing a lot of effort into this chapter, hopefully it's up to par with expectations hehe.

The greenery was a welcome distraction. Luscious, tall trees swayed in the breeze, shielding the carriage from direct sunlight and clear blue skies, lingering branches extended out, pointing the way towards the exit of the manor’s extensive stretches of land. The iron gates were tall, and as you peered out to see the tip of the spikes, you felt watched. The complete stillness and lack of life against the green forestry was like black paint on white. You’d only seen them once, a few weeks back when you had arrived for the job. They were as domineering now as they were on your first day. They were watchful, peering over and their gaze tailing you until the carriage disappeared far into the distance, hidden away beneath the greenery of the forest.

The sky was a contrastingly brilliant blue against golden wheat. Even the most skilled painter couldn’t replicate the vibrant scenery on their best canvas, or so you thought as you peered out through the carriages’ window.

Warm air clung to your skin, trailing it with thin streaks of sweat, disappearing between numerous layers of your uniform. The smell of humid country air filled the carriage, seemingly cramping the small space up more so than it already was; from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the Viscount tugging at his collar. He breathed out a heavy puff of air, frustration evident in the crease between his eyebrows and the downcast of his lips.

The ride was otherwise silent, but the constant songs of birds and the vibrating hum of the carriage aided in keeping it from being unbearable. You busied yourself with observing the scenery, noting a distant taste of smoke on the tip of your tongue.

The Viscount could surely make anyone replicate this view on a canvas at the mere snap of his fingers and a handsome payment. You were curious as to just how much it would cost one to do so.

Your eyes reflected the wondrous scenery like a mirror, which Rex found himself drawn in to, enjoying quietly observing your childlike wonder.

When he had noticed your sneaky glances, he had pretended to be annoyed, exasperated even. The carriage was stifling, and he was quick to regret his impatience to leave the manor - Mrs Opal would’ve definitely known how to keep the heat at bay, though he wasn’t regretting the chance to watch your mannerisms, as miniscule as they were around him.

He also knew Mrs Opal would not be impressed with him. She loved to make her thoughts known even when unprompted, and so Rex knew she’d make you sit quietly with your head down.

Though you did manage to hide all your thoughts behind a pretty curtain of long lashes and quick escapes from his sights. It was difficult for Rex to tell what you were thinking. You were terrified, that he knew. Yet you were also curious, attentive and careful, like an animal of prey scoping and mapping out its’ territory.

Slowly, your head turned, and your eyes met his.

The slight widening of your eyes snapped him out, and Rex threw his nose into an awfully boring article once more. His heart was racing like a galloping horse, thrilled and yet terrified. You’d just caught him staring. The Viscount. What was he doing?

The air in the carriage stilled, the silence overwhelming as you tried to make sense of the situation. Why was he staring? Did you do something you weren’t supposed to? A shiver ran down your spine.

You were so glad Mr Owens wasn’t here.

You remembered the way his watchful gaze never left your figure this morning, eyes squinted until they were but tiny slits, judging and scorching and awaiting, as if he was sure you would mess up. You knew what happened if a servant was insubordinate. Or simply made a silly mistake.

You visibly swallowed, turning your attention back to the fields. You wouldn’t slip up. You couldn’t. You weren’t even sure if punishments differed depending on the servants’ role and status, but you weren’t about to go trying to find out. Maybe they became less severe, or maybe they were completely different.

Mr Owens was nothing if not a lion waiting for you to wander into his den when it came to slipping up.

For the entire journey, the Viscount did not speak a word, and neither did you. You really had to ask Mrs Opal about the rules on interaction. Maybe this entire situation would be less awkward if the Viscount was a Viscountess.

Eventually small, spiky rooftops and chimneys began popping up in the distance like a trail of mushrooms in a fairytale. Grey smoke oozed out from a few like a steady stream, soaring into the vast sea of summery blues.

The distant rumble of village life began increasing in volume and energy, and you found yourself gaping at the people. Small children pranced around, enjoying the coolness of water from a nearby stream. Women and men were scattered around, amid various tasks, dust and grime decorating their figures. You inwardly recoiled into yourself at the thought of how difficult it would be to wash all this dirt off. Maker, were you glad you were no longer in charge of washing duty.

As you became lost in observing the village life, the carriage had come to a slow stop, and you looked around confusedly.

“We’ll carry on by foot.” The Viscount’s voice was much closer now, startling you.

He was leaning over, reaching for the door handle. His breath fanned over the tip of your nose, and his entire stature was impossibly close. Too close for comfort, you could say. Or professionalism.

“Let me open the door for you, my Lord!” Squeaking, you too reached for the handle. Your fingers slipped beneath his, taking a firm hold of it. His hand landed on yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. Your breath hitched as you slowly looked up, eyes widening as his presence was now much closer, much warmer. Close enough to-

Your eyes widened as the handle clicked and all forms of support vanished beneath you, your figure plummeting to the ground.

A burning sensation flamed all over your skin, beginning in the legs and travelling all the way to your arms. Gravel pieces dropped from your palms as you rubbed them over your skirt, wincing at the increasing pain. Shaking your head, you were about to get up, but your breath was caught in your throat.

Injuring yourself seemed to quickly become the least of your worries as your sight landed on your skirts - they were tattered and dirtied with soil and dust and whatever else littered the earth.

You’d have to wait until wash day to be able to clean them and you only had one other uniform and that hadn’t even been issued by your current employer.

Either you’d continue working in these skirts until wash day or you’d have to explain to Mrs Opal why you weren’t wearing the correct garments.

“Kriff… This is bad-” You muttered, wincing and scowling simultaneously. A series of ‘no’s’ escaped your lips, as you spotted more and more dirt and mud. What should you do? The Viscount certainly wouldn’t be pleased, walking around with a dirtied maiden in tow. Perfect. Things were going terribly wrong terribly fast.

“My apologies, my Lord, I didn’t mean to-”

“Were you hurt?” Interrupting, the Viscount reached for your hand, taking it between his own gloved ones. He turned it over, inspecting the scratched, bleeding skin. “Here, take this,” He muttered, wrapping his handkerchief around your palm. “We’ll treat it as soon as we’re back at the manor.” His brows were furrowed as he quickly looked you over. Ignoring your stupor, he moved away once he was satisfied.

“M- My Lord? I cannot accept this, I-”

“I insist.” With a firm voice and a warning look, he’d managed to silence your protests.

Your heart was slamming against your chest, like a bird trapped in a cage as you nodded, “Thank you,” you muttered, looking away as you felt your face heating up.

The Viscount gave you a small nod, releasing your hands.

“We should get going, if we do not wish to be late.”

You found yourself cemented to your spot. Confusion was painted across your features, the Viscount’s contrasting behaviour muddling over your thoughts.

Why was he so… Kind? At the manor he made sure you felt like nothing but a small speck of dust, floating just outside his vision so as not to rouse his ire. Yet now? It was as if you were watching an entirely different person.

The Viscount was already a few steps ahead of you when he looked back expectantly.

“Are you coming or not?” He questioned. Your legs moved on their own accord.

“Y- Yes, my Lord.”

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Getting to the boutique was straight forward. The Viscount clearly knew where he was headed to and was unwavering under curious overt looks. Your skirts felt awfully heavy under the afternoon sun, and to be honest, you felt like a sweaty dog.

Glancing over to the Viscount, a tinge of jealousy prickled your heart as he was seemingly unfazed by the heat.

The silence felt almost worse than the heat, and you found yourself tugging at the collar of your shirt for some comfort. You weren’t sure how formal you had to be when interacting with the Viscount, but his change in demeanour towards you inspired a little confidence.

“Are you not feeling warm, my Lord?” Unsurely, you glanced towards him. His cardigan was a navy blue colour, absorbing majority of the light that hit it.

“A little.”

Not talkative. Maybe he’s shy.

With a sigh, you looked back to him, “Would you like to take your cardigan off? I can carry it for you, my Lord.”

“That is not necessary.” He muttered, his throat growing dry. Rex wasn’t good at small talk. The Viscount did not engage in small talk.

You didn’t say anything else, instead opting to give a small nod. The path you took seemed to be a silent one, and the village felt more like a ghost town. Everyone was busy. Everyone was out and about in the fields and the farms and the barns, doing their fair share.

The boutique was situated in the town centre, alongside all the other shops. A market was also set up in the town square, but that wasn’t very busy on a mid-week afternoon.

A few lonesome figures were scattered here and there, but the silence was palpable. Your pace slowed as uncertainty clouded your thoughts - you weren’t sure which shop exactly was the boutique.

The manor life was too busy for a maid like you to be going out every now and then, and even in the few spare moments you had, you’d been too exhausted to go sight-seeing.

Luckily, you had the Viscount with you and you trailed after him like a timid pet dog.

Different shops and huts adorned the place, ranging from tall to small, providing different services. A butcher shop here, a tailor shop there. You’d assumed that’s where Mrs Opal went to have the Viscount’s suits fixed.

A quaint flower shop rested in between the bustle of the food market and the many homes scattered around, and you found yourself drawn in. Ruby roses and honey-coloured tulips were neatly decorating the outside of the shop, a chalkboard sign sitting outside, naming all sorts of flowers and their prices. A beautiful arch adorned the door, silky white gypsophila’s and other sorts of carnations growing around it, soaking in the hot sunlight.

A young woman could be seen trimming stems from the cover of an arched window, a faint smile situated on her lips. Two braids rested on her shoulders, and freckles painted the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looked lovingly at her flowers, faintly feeling the petals of a sunflower against the pads of her fingers.

The sight brought up a smile of your own and her gaze suddenly caught yours. Your breath hitched, cheeks tinting red as she waved at you.

Embarrassed, you turned away to hide the fact you’d been caught staring, but your face was met with a brick wall. Your nose quashed itself into the Viscount’s shoulder blades, your fingers scraping the material of his white button-up shirt. When had his cardigan come off?

“Everything okay?” The Viscount asked, surprised at the sudden impact.

“Y- Yes, my Lord! My apologies.” You quickly stuttered out, looking up with bright red cheeks.

Maybe it was the glaze of embarrassment or the heat exhaustion, but you swore you noticed the corner of the Viscount’s lips turning up. Was he smiling? Did he find it funny? You shook your head as you made your way beside him, holding your arms out for his cardigan, only to be promptly ignored.

You took one last look at the flower shop, noticing that the girl had disappeared from view, her sunflowers laying limply on the cash counter.

The front of the boutique seemed to be nothing if not simple. A foamy green door, a wide window showing off two floral dresses and a suit. A bell chimed as the Viscount pried the door open, his arm extending and body flattening to the side as he uttered an, ‘After you’.

With a soft thank you, you took a step into the small shop.

The inside was much more colourful compared to the outside. Colourful fabrics ranging from the deepest of violets to the faintest of yellows decorated the walls. Silks and frills and bows hung from the ceiling and carefully crafted pieces and glinting jewellery littered every corner of the room. Off to the side was a curtain and a space where a door should be but wasn’t. A fitting room, perhaps.

As you looked away from the onslaught of colour and sparkle, you noticed a woman, possibly in her mid-forties. Her frilly hair was pinned in place atop her head and her eyes looked bored and disinterested in the arrival of new customers. She had a cigar clasped between two fingers, a newspaper in the other, thin-rimmed glasses atop her pointed nose and a dress that resembled nightwear. She’d barely even glanced up.

The Viscount cleared his throat.

With a loud sigh, the lady made her mood crystal clear; completely and utterly disinterested.

“What services may I offer you today, my Lord?” Her voice was nasally, her words sharp and concise with every syllable that left her lips. It clawed at your back in shivers like a cat’s talons on a curtain.

The Viscount was indifferent to her tone, a small smile present on his lips. “I’d like to order four new dresses for this young lady.” He motioned to you.

“Four?”

“Yes, four.”

“Anything else?”

With a hum, he paced around the shop, observing the sea of colour, a gloved hand reaching out for something. A navy-blue, silky fabric. “Yes… The colour. I’d like for it to be blue and white.”

The lady lowered her glasses, thin eyebrows raised as she eyed the fabric. Her interested had been piqued.

“Silk? I hope you’re aware the price for is quite… Hefty.” She set down her pamphlet, rubbing a thumb and forefinger together.

Panic was evident in your eyes as you looked between the two, protests lingered on the tip of your tongue, and you turned to the Viscount, “My Lord, are you sure? That is much too expensive for a dress designated to a lowly servant like me-”

“I’ve come prepared today.” The Viscount didn’t spare you a glance as he answered the seamstress, a confident smile on his face.

With a curt nod, she made her way over, pulling the roll of fabric from its spot on the shelf, before sauntering away towards a pearly white one. She returned to her desk, fishing out some measuring tape and safety pins.

With a flick of her hand, she had the two of you following her into the back room and with a push on your shoulders, she had you discarding your skirts and cardigan, but not before pushing the Viscount out. The curtains were drawn with a soft whack, allowing you some privacy.

She took different measurements, manoeuvring you like a rag doll, matching different shades of blue and white to your body in differing patterns and shapes.

“He wants these done within a week… Absolute lunatic!” She muttered to herself, dismayed at the Viscount’s request, before shoving the fabric into your chest. “Hold this, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

She opened the curtains with a flap, her figure disappearing behind.

You looked into the mirror, holding the silk up, admiring the smoothness of it beneath your fingers. You’d only seen such beauty from afar, worn by all kinds of men and women of status. You never imagined that one day you would be the one to hold it.

The sound of your name being called snapped you out. The Viscount.

A hand gripped the curtain. Your heart dropped as the Viscount was about to open it. Your hands flew to keep it closed; a breath caught in your throat as you held it with a death grip. Just because you were a servant it did not mean you wanted to show yourself off to everyone within your vicinity.

“Yes my Lord?” Squeaking out, you peered your head out, covering the rest of your body below the neckline.

The Viscount looked you up and down, a confused quirk in his brow.

He didn’t know what he was thinking. Rex was used to being around the ladies from the inn, having grown comfortable with their ease in their nudity around him. A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he was met with your panicked, bewildered eyes. The shop wasn’t well lit, only a weak ray of light illuminating the changing room. Rex hoped you didn’t pick up on his own reddening face.

Clearing his throat, he tried to scramble up a response.

“Are the fabrics to your liking?”

Perfect. You’re a Viscount for a reason, Rex.

Throwing a glance at the fabrics pooled around your feet, you gave the Viscount a small nod. “Y- Yes, I’m waiting for Ms Isabel to return. She took my measurements and took off.” You breathed out, giving a tight-lipped smile.

He returned a small nod, praying to the gods for you not to realise the state he was in.

“I’ll be just around the corner then, shout if you need saving.” Promptly, he turned around, rubbing his face exasperatedly once he was out of your sight.

What was he doing? You weren’t some woman he’d be spending the night with. You were one of his maids. He was here to buy you some dresses to have you looking presentable at balls, to ensure his status as a Viscount wouldn’t be questioned.

At least he’d managed to keep his composure, to cover up for his lack of consideration. He had only wanted to see you, as he found himself growing comfortable in your presence at an alarming rate.

That would need to be sorted out later.

Taking a seat in the front of the shop, he watched as Ms Isabel hurriedly returned, the sounds of curtains being pried open and a squeak tumbling out from the back, followed by her gruff voice.

“Give me that fabric, girl.”

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

“Why are we walking, my Lord? Don’t you have urgent business to attend to?”

The Viscount was a few steps ahead of you, as you both had silently agreed on it being inappropriate for you to walk beside him. Maybe if you were Mr Owens, his personal butler, then it’d be deemed appropriate.

“Ms Isabel was done earlier than I expected, so I wished to walk instead.”

With furrowed eyebrows and your focus centred on not tripping in the tall grass, you failed to notice the small glance he’d thrown at you.

“I’m sure you can promenade in the gardens, my Lord. I do not wish to be rude or imposing, but this is much too difficult for a maid like me, my skirts are too heavy and too long.” You pointed out, nodding at the different branches and tangles that threatened to trip you up.

The Viscount paused in his steps, turning abruptly to face you.

“Would you like some help with that?” He pointed to your fists that were clenched tightly around your skirt.

“May I ask how exactly do you plan on helping me, my Lord?”

“Well, if it isn’t obvious, I can hold one side whilst you hold the other.” With a shrug of his shoulders, he extended a hand out. You looked to him as though he was the silliest looking animal on the whole of Naboo.

You blinked a few times, attempting to come up with some sort of response or even acknowledgement of his words.

“You cannot possibly be serious, my Lord. I apologise, I did not mean to sound so… Whiny.” You quickly backed away a step, anxious at the thought of how the Viscount had interpreted your words. Sure, you’d love to accept his help, but you didn’t think a noble should be aiding you in keeping your skirts above ground. You didn’t think you were allowed to even request this kind of aid.

The Viscount sighed heavily as he took another step forward, his face expressionless as he lifted one side of your dress.

“M- My Lord! I do not require your assistance, I insist!”

“The more you protest the longer it’ll take us to return to the manor.” Was all he said as he motioned towards the seemingly small building in the distance. “Now let’s go, if we want to get back in time for tea.”

Plush green trees fenced the wheat fields from the village to the hill on which the road to the manor began, they swayed in the wind and occasionally parted to provide a small derailing trail deeper into the forest. You noticed that this wasn’t the road you’d taken in the carriage, but you recognised this view whenever you’d seen it whilst cleaning the windows facing the south, or when you’d found yourself doing chores in the gardens. The trees and brush came to a round stop as you eventually neared one end of the field, and the Viscount had to urge you forwards as you came to a slow stop, wondering whether the two of you were really heading in the right direction.

The two of you headed straight on through a semi-thick wall of trees, your eyes watchful for any outstanding roots and fallen branches that could be seen as hazardous. If your skirts caught on any of it, you were sure they would rip.

The Viscount had carried onwards, ahead of you at your request, once you were clear of vision-blocking wheat plants. This had left you to fall behind, as you had struggled more to climb over brush and twigs. You called out to him, concerned when the trees didn’t clear up fast enough, but the Viscount only called back, “Follow me, we’re almost there,” and took on a quicker pace through the forestry.

Your heart pumped blood at a more anxious pace as the Viscounts’ figure started to slowly slip from your vision, yet your worries were eased as you caught up to him, raising a questioning brow at why he had come to a stop.

“My Lord?” You asked, stepping over a particularly large branch before looking up.

You came to a sudden stop as the Viscount gripped your arm, pulling your body back. “Careful there,” he said, pointing at the sudden dip in the path.

Breathless and confused, you look towards the meadow ahead, stunned and speechless. The trees had cleared up, a meadow lay ahead of you with countless flowers spread far and wide, glinting in the sunlight with hues of deep purples and ruby reds, creating a trail that led a clear path towards the gardens of the manor.

“What the…?” You glanced to the Viscount, mouth gaping wide open, heart fluttering at the softness of his smile and the mellowness in his eyes. Slowly, he turned to face you, that smile still ever so present, “Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked, nodding towards the meadow.

With a small nod, you could see that it only led upwards from there on, and exhaustion suddenly seemed to tug at your limbs more prominently now.

“Indeed, though I’ve never been here before,” You said, observing how a brook flowed downwards somewhere to the far right, away from the fields you’d just emerged from. Yellow buttercups and bluebells lined the edges of the water, taking sips and twinkling under the setting afternoon sun. “It’s certainly pretty enough of a place for a picnic, my Lord.” You suggested, beginning to step down the gradual slope below you. A few tree roots stuck out from the earth, acting as nature’s steps. The Viscount was quick to follow, reaching equal ground sooner than you before he reached out, offering for you to take his hand.

Quietly you thanked him and sauntered towards the brook, grasping your skirts and leaning over the edge to see what could be hiding within the water, a smile blooming on your face as you noticed tadpoles swimming close to the earth.

“Tadpoles?” The Viscount questioned beside you, crouching down to poke at the water.

“I believe so, it’s about time for them to hatch,” You replied, watching as the little creatures swam in flurries away from the Viscounts’ hand. “You’re scaring them, my Lord.” You pointed out, observing the side of his face.

“I don’t believe I’m causing them any harm.”

“For all we know, they might think you’re a stork. Heart attacks in tadpoles are a matter not to be laughed at, my Lord.”

The Viscount laughed anyway. “I’m not sure I resemble a stork all that much, cyar’ika,” The nickname slipped out, Rex felt panic curse through him but quickly realised you didn’t hear it, or understand it.

“To them you might,” You mused, having crouched down as well before you dipped your own hand in the water, “If I was a creature that tiny, anything would resemble harm and danger to me.”

The Viscount said nothing as he turned to you, watching the peaceful expression on your face. He’d never imagined that the two of you would be spending your time together like this; as if you were a pair of close friends. The two of you should’ve resumed your journey long ago, but he was content to just sit there with you, enjoying the peaceful beauty of mother nature. Majority of the women in his life were either mother figures to him or single ladies looking to marry, or desiring intimacy, but you were neither. You were a maid who had the misfortunate of catching him red-handed with a woman he wasn’t married to, so really he was only making sure you kept your lips sealed.

You behaved differently to every other maid he met. You were hesitant and clumsy. You preferred to stay further away from unfamiliar things, people, yet you were insistent on interacting with him.

He watched as you dropped a pebble into the brook, silently observing as it drowned to the bottom, settling amongst other stones. “Shall we continue?”

“Continue? Continue what?”

You smiled, glancing at the Viscount, “Continue walking, my Lord. The sun is setting,” you pointed out, motioning to the sky.

The Viscount followed your train of thought, realising just how low the sun had set, barely peaking over the treetops and brush.

“Let’s continue.” He rose from his crouched position, offering you a helpful hand.

“Will your skirts be okay?”

“Sorry?”

“Your skirts. There’s some dust and mud on them. I’m asking whether you’re fine with that.” He explained, noticing that mud from the brook had overlapped with the dirt you had fallen into earlier that day.

“I’ll have to wait until wash day.”

“Wash day?”

“Yes, my Lord. That’s when we wash all the garments of all the personnel and nobles in the mansion.”

“And when is that?”

You pursed your lips, looking over the filth your dress has become. “End of next week, my Lord.”

“You can’t possibly wait that long.” He said, concern painted across his features.

“I have no spare uniform, my Lord. This’ll have to do.” You shrugged, beckoning him to start heading towards the mansion once again. Taking a few steps forward, you didn’t get far as the Viscount took a gentle hold of your bicep. Frozen, the two of you stared at one another, your gut twisting with a strange, foreign feeling. You didn’t like the look he was giving you. Was it pity? Was it guilt? You felt naked under his gaze, squirming as he studied your reactions. The corners of his eyes seemed to be downcast, reflecting the faint frown on his lips. He was making you uneasy under the weight of his stare, “What is it, my Lord?” you breathed out, unable to take the silence or the staring any longer.

“I’m sorry,” He said, before clearing his throat, turning away to look at the manor, “I’ll have a uniform issued to your quarters by tomorrow morning.” He added, before following an invisible path leading further up the meadow.

Following in tow, the Viscount left no room for discussion, and left you to bubble in your confusion in silence.

The path up to the manor stretched out for what felt like hours as the Viscount did not utter another word to you for the rest of your walk, his mood having plummeted for a reason unknown to you.

There were long shadows casted on the face of the manor as you and the Viscount walked along the gardens, watching as one by one, the windows lit up under some candlelight.

He had remained silent for majority of the walk back, only gracing you with one word responses and grunts to every conversation starter you threw his way. Eventually you gave up, settling on walking in silence and admiring the beautiful evening.

You could see a figure waiting in the distance, arms on their hips and a foot aggressively tapping the stone steps below them. “Where have you been?” Mrs Opals’ voice rung out across the stretch of grass as she quickly made her way towards the two of you, an unpleasant scowl growing on her face.

She had stopped just a few metres away, waiting for you. You glanced towards the Viscount, who was unfazed by Mrs Opal’s clear display of displeasure.

“We went to the village, had the girl fitted and made our way back,” he said, “Why do you ask?”

“You were gone for hours, I was starting to worry that you got lost, perhaps,” Mrs Opal said sternly, leading the way into the manor, “Nevermind the fact that you left me without saying a word!” She exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. The three of you rounded the building to avoid walking through the kitchens, and were now entering the lit up entrance hall of the manor. Around you, the candlelight flickered and burned and kept the hallways bright, creating a warm orange glow and mixing with the royal red carpets that lined the grand staircase and disappeared into the shadows of the lower grounds of the manor.

“You have an unexpected guest, my Lord,” Mrs Opal paused as she led the two of you to the lounge, where presumably the guest was residing. The Viscount took a sharp breath, as if to cut her off but she beat him to it, “I know, you said no visitors, however this is someone whom I couldn’t deny entry. He’s had a long journey and insisted on waiting for your return, sir.”

“Who is it?” The Viscount inquired curiously, his eyes thinning into slits as he stared the older woman down.

Mrs Opal cleared her throat, adjusting the collar of her dress nervously, “You’ll be happy to know that it’s someone familiar,” she said, glancing back, “It’s your brother, Lord Fives.”

You observed the Viscount’s behaviour, noticing how his shoulders instantly relaxed at the mention of the name. You guessed the Viscount preferred this brother over Lord Wolffe, who made it his mission to intimidate every servant in the manor. Maybe this brother would be kinder, more welcoming than the two Lords who inhabit this place.

“Fives?” The Viscount asked, his voice a gruff whisper, “He’s arrived early.”

“Maybe he was excited to see you, my Lord.” You mused, glancing over at him as you reached the lounge room. The dark brown doors were closed, and you had to help Mrs Opal open them as they were too heavy.

As the doors opened, you were greeted with a comfortable silence. The room was rather small, resembling a private study more so than a lounge. It was cozy room, decorated with deep red carpets and curtains, it had a high ceiling and a large fireplace that emanated heat and sparks and comfort the closer you moved to it.

Candles littered the room all around, however none were lit up, you assumed that the fireplace provided enough light to the room. As you looked around the room, you noticed a bar cart in a far away corner, with a few glass bottles and glasses lining it in a neat row. Whiskey. A bookshelf lined the opposite wall, filled to the brim though you spotted an empty slot. Returning to the middle room, you counted a few armchairs, which sat around the fireplace in a half-circle, and as your sights finally landed on the rooms’ only occupant, you paused, realising the missing book was in his hand.

The book had a red cover, with neat golden letters decorating it. The beholder was wearing a white button-up shirt, with high-waisted trousers, and a cardigan lay to the side of him. His hair was an ebony black, cut precisely to tame his curls and goatee. His entire build was large, but what piqued your interest were his shoulders; they were broad and heavy-looking, and you caught yourself wondering what they’d be like to touch. Not only that, but his side profile was certainly a welcome sight-

“Brother! What a pleasure to finally see you!” Rex exclaimed as he walked towards Fives, his arms outstretched to welcome the latter in a hug. His sudden outburst startled you, ripping your focus away from admiring all things about the Lord. They tightly embraced one another, wide smiles adorning their faces as they laughed, and once again, you found yourself inwardly swooning.

“I’ll admit it’s been a while, Rex. It’s good to be back,” Fives said as the two parted. “I thought I’d stop by, afterall we are going to the same ball.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here, if I had known we would’ve come back earlier,” The Viscount said, walking over to the bar cart, “Have you spoken to Wolffe already, then?” Pouring himself a glass, the Viscount tipped the glass in the Lords’ direction, to which the latter proceeded to nod.

“There was no need for you to hurry, brother, I believe I’ll be staying a while,” Lord Fives watched as the Viscount poured a second glass, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ as the two sat down together, “Echo will be joining us at the ball as he had some business to take care of back in the Capital,” He paused, taking a sip of his drink. Waiting for a moment, the Lord hummed in approval as the alcohol left a burning trail down his throat, “I haven’t seen Wolffe yet, no, Mrs Opal said he was out.”

With that, he motioned to the older woman, a toothy smile on his face.

His sights landed on you and he quirked a brow at the Viscount.

“And who’s the other lady?”

The Viscount’s gaze was intimidating as he savoured his drink, “That’s my new maid,” He gestured towards you, looking between you and Lord Fives with a glint of confusion in his eyes, “She’ll be accompanying me to the ball.”

“To the ball?” Fives raised a brow at that.

“Indeed. It isn’t good for Mrs Opal to stand around for too long, ever since her knees worsened, and, to be frank, my new maid is a capable one.” For a second, you felt your heart leap into your throat as the Viscount’s compliment registered.

Lord Fives looked back at you, his eyes roaming over your figure, studying you. You felt timid under his gaze, fighting the urge to shrink into a corner of the room.

“Ladies, would you care to join us?” He asked suddenly, and you heard the Viscount choke on his drink at the suggestion. Looking nervously to Mrs Opal, you tried your best to remain looking relaxed.

If you were to be honest, the new Lord seemed to have a certain effect on you, but what that effect was you weren’t quite so sure yet.

“That’s kind of you, my Lord,” Mrs Opal answered, a small smile dancing across her lips as she motioned for you to follow her. The two of you took a seat on the sofa, your figure remaining close to hers. You felt watched as you fixed your skirt, ensuring that none of the mud would be touching the material beneath you.

“So, how new are you then, cyar’ika?” Lord Fives asked, tilting his head slightly. He rested his elbows on his knees, swirling the whiskey absentmindedly.

You glanced at the Viscount and Mrs Opal, unsure whether you were permitted to reveal all the details.

The Viscount gave you a small nod, and your heart thrummed under his intense stare.

“It’s been a couple of weeks now, my Lord. My duty isn’t as important as Mrs Opals’, however I do feel grateful for the opportunity to work closely with the Viscount.” You muttered out, looking up at him. His his eyes widened the tiniest bit upon hearing you.

Humming in response, he took a long second to study you. His gaze trailed from the top of your head, down to the dark blush which settled on your cheeks, to your dirtied dress. Though he didn’t question it, you still felt slight embarrassment over not having the time to put on something different – oh well, it couldn’t be helped now.

“How come the Viscount chose you?”

Blinking in surprise, you tried to scour your brain for explanations. The true reason was something the Viscount wished to keep a secret, you were too fearful of what would happen if you were to reveal it.

You opened your mouth, ready to reply with some lame excuse, but the velvety thrum that was the Viscount’s voice interrupted you.

“I’ve noticed her a while ago, working in the gardens on a hot day. She was dusting the carpets and took a break and picked up a fallen rose from the ground, I watched her walk around with it in her hair the entire day,” The Viscount hummed, staring down at the almost empty glass in his hand, “I guess something about her intrigued me.”

To say that you were speechless was an understatement. You remembered that day as clear as words on a page, but you never realised that the Viscount had ever noticed you up until recently. How many times had he caught you acting like a fool? Prancing around with flowers in your head and snacks in your hands at odd hours of the night?

You couldn’t control the wildfire that spread across your face, nor the fastening of your heartbeat, nor the way your mouth was left agape as you focused on the Viscount.

Lord Fives looked between the two of you. He was analysing the stunned expression on your face, his brows lightly furrowed as he compared it to the Viscount’s. Something didn’t feel right, but Fives knew when not to push a certain topic. He wouldn’t, at least not yet. Something in his gut told him Mrs Opal hadn’t been involved in the recruitment process.

“Actually, my apologies, could I be excused please? I’d like to wash up before bed, and I believe it’ll be better for the three of you to catch up without my intrusion, my Lord.” You spoke, aware that your request might’ve been made at an inappropriate time.

Fives quirked a brow at you before turning to the Viscount, who only gave a small nod in response.

Fives turned back to you, a soft smile on his face, “I see no issue with that,” He paused, finding the look on your face sweet, “However you owe me a promenade tomorrow. Deal?”

You blinked up at him, mouth slightly agape as his question took you by surprise.

“I- I’m not sure… I’ll be with the Viscount and-”

“That’s okay, I have a meeting to attend in the afternoon and you won’t need to accompany me, so you may consider it a day off,” Rex spoke up, eager to end the interaction between you and Fives. He could already tell his brother fancied you, and smelled out the partial bullshit in your recruitment story, but Rex could tell you were feeling lost and uncomfortable. Fives could have you all to himself tomorrow, even if that didn’t sit right with Rex.

“I see. Well, thank you for your time, I will see you tomorrow, my Lord,” You looked to Lord Fives, throwing on a tight-lipped smile, “Have a good night, sir.” You bid your goodbyes quickly, bowing slightly towards the two Lords, murmuring a quick goodbye to Mrs Opal as you left.

Rex watched the entire interaction, his stomach churning at the faint blush present on your face. He couldn’t understand what had you blushing and stuttering when it came to his brother, but Rex slowly began regretting his decision as he watched you quietly slip away under Fives’ watchful gaze.

Rex swallowed thickly as his brother turned to face them, and the small smirk on his face did not go unnoticed.

“So, where were we?”

----------

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, leaving behind traces of a warm breeze and running thoughts. You sat by your open window, observing the way the stars were dotted all over a canvas of dark purples and blues and black shadows. The moon had disappeared off to somewhere, stranding the manor in a gloomy darkness. Orange lamps decorated the exterior gates, which stretched far and wide around the manor, but the light didn’t dare to enter the gardens. You leaned your arms against the windowsill, sighing heavily. It had been a tiring day, and every so often you felt your body being lulled into sleep under the beauty of the night.

Your sleepy eyes trailed from left to right, admiring the beautiful rows of hedges of baby pink roses, which stood out against the pitch black like a reflection of the stars in a lake. A reoccurring blush settled on your face each time you thought back on the Viscount’s words.

A gardener would come every morning to tend to the flowers, ensuring they were kept at their best, cutting away pieces that had died. It was a pity, but at the end of the day, you always found yourself picking up the leftover flowers he had forgotten to throw away, hiding them away in your quarters to admire later on. That’s how the Viscount caught you playing around like a little girl.

Further on in the distance, across fields of pitch black nothingness, you could faintly spot the flickering, diminishing lights of the village. You assumed not many people stayed up for long after nightfall, as only a few scattered glimpses of light illuminated the night. From the comfort of your bedroom, the village resembled something out of a fairy tale. If you squinted hard enough, you could imagine a trail of fairy lights dancing around the borders of the village, keeping it safe and protected, with the darkness keeping it hidden away from dangerous creatures and visitors, allowing the magical fairies to live happily in their mushroom huts and treehouses, to continue their peaceful existence amongst the darkness of the forestry. You’d always imagined such a world, wishing that one day you’d walk through a tall wall of rose orchards, expecting to see nothing out of the ordinary, but instead being taken to a land of fairytales and love stories.

You sighed out again, hiding your face away in your arms, as the warm embrace of sleep lulled you further into an unconscious state. You intended to get some shut eye but only for a moment, just long enough to gather some semblance of strength to drag yourself into bed.

However, the moment turned into a few, within which you drifted in and out of sleep, floating in a deep sea of darkness, like a small boat drifting somewhere far away, somewhere far in the middle of the ocean.

When you opened your eyes again, it was completely dark. Only the moonlight illuminated the landscape. A strong gust of wind blew past you, eliciting goosebumps all over your skin. You felt confused, woozy. Still sleep-drunk as you looked at your surroundings. How long ago had you fallen asleep?

Something was different. Off.

Shakily, you gripped the windowsill and stood up. You waited for a long moment, head hanging low as you waited for the room to stop spinning. There was a dull ache in your shoulders, and you cursed yourself for falling asleep anywhere but in your bed.

Finally you moved, looking out at the gardens once again. Your body felt stiff and tense, your blood pumping in your ears a tad too hard, a tad too loud. Your eyes scanned the rose hedges, looking for something within the darkness. Something that would validate your gut feeling. But there was nothing.

And with a sigh, you climbed on the windowsill, reaching for the handle. The breeze was too cold for you to leave the window open overnight.

Just as your hand gripped the handle, you heard it. A noise.

For a single moment, you were paralysed with utter, blood-chilling fear, convinced there was a beast hidden within the shadows.

You whipped your head back and forth, eyes wide open, body on full alert. Could it be a coyote? An escaped bull? No. Not around these parts of the countryside. The village was too far, the farms even further.

You shook your head, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air before sliding the window slightly shut, leaving a few inches open. It was about to be summer, and the nights were getting warmer, so your room would be steaming in the morning. You moved away as you didn’t wish to stay up any longer, especially since you had to be up bright and early. Your back would be awfully sore in the morning, and you were already dreading it.

It was just before your body touched the mattress when you heard another noise. It was much closer this time, though, and much louder.

Ripping your body away from the bed, you moved immediately towards the window.

If there was a coyote, the guards needed to be made aware-

Something was moving. Something in your reflection moved, yet you didn’t. It was strange, an instant sense of fear so powerful it froze your body to where you stood. You could only move your eyes, the rest of you solid like a statue. You watched, waiting for something. Some kind of movement, or yet another wail.

That’s when you saw it.

Two figures, pressed against the gates of the back gardens. Moving animatedly, hidden away by the confines of darkness. They were dressed simply, as simply as possible to be able to do what they were doing-

The noises had now become clearer, and you were able to discern them as moans and whines, and you realised that they did indeed sound like a wild beast. Maker how fast were they going at it?

You opened your window quietly, leaning over the windowsill again. You squinted your eyes as hard as you could, trying to discern the faces of the people. They weren’t exactly the best at being discreet, and they did rise your ire.

A faint blush dusted over your cheeks as you realised you were essentially being a peeping Tom. But you weren’t doing anything weird. They weren’t being discreet, and you just wanted to tell them to knock it off. To have a little bit of shame.

Realisation struck your sleep-hazed mind like a chord.

It wasn’t just a pair of random servants going at it like banshees in the cover of the dark. No.

Something prickly, something ugly twisted at your gut as the realisation dawned in on you, cruelly sobering you up.

It was the Viscount.

42 notes · View notes

swee7dream · 7 months ago

Text

ilichil as agere caregivers ! nct 127 x f!reader

warnings feminine nicknames dni if you sexualize age regression in any way . author's note i guess this is my opening to start writing cg!127 and cg!wayv ! mahae can be found here and winwin's headcanons can be found in wayv's when it's out .

seo youngho (￢‿￢ )

you got him wrapped around your finger! not that he’ll ever admit it

saw a cute dress? he got it for you. your stuffie’s arm ripped? he’s learning to sew for you.

purposefully hides pieces of the puzzle you’re building and feigns innocence just to see you get mad when you find out his schemes

“how’d that happen?” he pouts, cocking his head to the side.

if he every truly upsets you, he’s quick to apologize, pulling you into his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheeks until you’re laughing again because it tickles so much and he’s holding you so tight you can’t get away!

johnny loves being called daddy! he’s your daddy and you’re his babygirl!

loves cheesy, old-fashioned nicknames like honeybun, buttercup, cupcake… he just thinks you’re sweet, is what he’s trying to say

he loves when you sit on his lap and show him the coloring pages you finished while he was gone. he’ll make up stories off them like the purple elephant that wants to be a trapeze for the circus!

another big fan of playing pretend

his favorite game is dinosaurs, stomping around the house in slow motion with an evil toothy grin. you always manage to sneak away from his t-rex arms somehow but he’ll get you one day!

but johnny isn’t just a big goof. he knows when to put his foot down and is more 50-50 with it rather than taeil’s 90-10.

“i said no. put that back, please.”

his serious voice never fails to cause a shiver up your spine, settling you down within seconds.

when you finally decided to tell johnny, it took a minute for him to understand what exactly age regression is but kept the line of communication open. very open.

once, you were at work and your screen lit up with a message notification from him reading ‘do you like pacifiers?’

you almost beat him up

lee taeyong (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

worrywart !

doesn’t wanna make your regression feel even the slightest bit off. prioritizes your safety and comfort

at the beginning, taeyong as a cg can be seen as… a bit much

in preparation for his first time caring for you when small, he bought so many things. just anything he saw mentioned just once in all of his research of agere.

from itty bitty gear to middle/teen gear, bubu bought it all. if you don’t use any gear at all and have the ice cold heart to tell him so, you watch the color drain from his face.

poor guy

he just likes to be prepared. there’s nothing he likes more than a good plan.

cooking together is always so much fun. never lets you near the knives or heat but likes to keep you around to be his taste tester!

“what do you think, sweet pea?” “so yummy, bubu!”

loves doing crafts with you, particularly finger painting. you do it regularly, always forgetting that taeyong’s going to make you take a bath when the two of you end up with paint all over your faces and clothes

if you are allow it, taeyong is great with bathtimes !! he’s got rubber duckies and bath crayons to play with while he washes your hair.

cackles like a witch with a cauldron when adding a bathbomb to the bathtub, saying he’s preparing ‘baby soup’

“mommy, stop bein’ creepy.” “sorry, bug (っ- ‸ – ς)”

nakamoto yuta (￣ω￣)

“so yeah, it was just me and this big panther booking it down the forest to get away from this bear.” “and then?!” “i dunno i made it up :3”

an evil, evil man that takes advantage of your imagination during your tiny time to make up stories only to not finish them!

“what do you think would’ve happened next, baby?”

evil, but a good storyteller that gives you ideas for games nearly everyday you suppose….

loves playing dress up and salon

learned to do your hair! it’s an ongoing process… how did you end up with one low bun and one high? don’t ask

your breath hitches because he pulled a little too tight and he drops everything. are you okay? are you crying? he’s sorry, so so sorry. you know what? let’s have ice cream for dinner

likes listening to acid black cherry while doing your (v-kei) makeup! lets you sit on his lap when its your turn to do his

“daddy’s making you a total rockstar, baby.”

lets you draw on him! might get one (or several) of your doodles tattooed on his skin permanently just because he likes it so much

cuddling is his true life’s passion. takes out all the pillows and blankets in the house to make a pillow fort for movie nights. if he has any left over he uses them to wrap you up into a burrito

kim dongyoung （´▽｀）

just smile and wave, doyoung, smile and wave

maybe he shouldn’t have introduced you to his friends… they help add to your mischievous streak

“bunny? kangaroo! …pogo stick?” “doie… ‘s obviously you.” “me?” “yeah! when you can’t get the stuff on the top shelf at the the store so you did like this. ‘member? doie so bad at charades...” “:D ?!”

simultaneously the most competitive and worst player when it comes to video games

says he’s gonna win as you load up animal crossing like ….? okay gramps

hates when you call him that so you do it as much as possible because you live to displease

always knows the right thing to say when you’re feeling big feelings that feel only bigger when you’re small

treats you like you’re made of porcelain, his fingers delicately wiping your tears away silently.

never tells you to not cry or to stop, just tries to makes the process of feeling your emotions as easy as possible by making sure you’re drinking as much water as you’re crying out and making sure nothing could trigger you further

when you first told him about your regression you weren’t sure what his reaction was gonna be. he just stared dead at you in silence for like 8 minutes and then whispered “yeah… that makes sense” to himself

what is that supposed to mean? you know as well as i

jeong yunoh o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

he really just wants you to think he’s cool

that’s his main thing. of course, you being comfortable and happy is first, but you thinking he’s cool is a close second

most of his cg work is actually done behind the scenes; trying recipes, researching agere tips, and learning different crafts so that when you’re finally little again he can see the sweet, sweet sight of your awe

if you two planned for you to have some tiny time after a long time spent without regressing because overwhelming stress and responsibilities, you can bet on jaehyun to have organized an entire mermaid scavenger hunt in your home at a 6pm on a wednesday evening

the reward is always a ticket for something like a veggie-free night or a warm hug (he’ll give them to you whether you have one or not)

he calls them baby tickets

yes, that’s really what he calls them. yes, he chose the name himself.

there’s a reason you don’t let him name your dolls or stuffies

you tried once, this is basically how it went:

“hyunnie, what you think?” “it’s a bear… and pink… what about bearie? like strawberry and bear. bearie, haha. get it?” “…”

likes being called mister! but it’s actually rare for you to call him anything other than hyunnie

“say ‘please’ and i’ll think about it.” “please, mist-”

he’s already swiping his card

dong sicheng ♡✧( ु•⌄• )

read here (when it’s published) !

kim jungwoo (☆^ー^☆)

the silliest!!!!! how can you not love snoopy

your number one supporter in every single thing.

“the way you colored the sky with cerulean blue instead of the standard blue is just a peek into the artistic genius mind you have, my dear. how is every single art piece of yours just flawless?”

your babbles? “you don’t say! you know, i never did like that scoundrel…”

loves playing doggy! he could be cleaning around the house but if you slip that dog ear headband on him he’ll drop everything to entertain you.

he’s shattered a few plates...

he’s the most loyal friend you could have. he herds all your sheep plushies together and sniffs out the clues to help you solve the mysteries!

he also lets you doodle on his face. he’s just so easy-going it doesn’t matter what. whiskers? meow! mustache? hm, yes, it’s quite becoming of him, he thinks. you stuck some gem stickers on his cheeks? he’s an alien from the moon.

likes playing pretend much more than playing with toys.

sulky when you choose to play with your dolls rather than him. when he’s literally right there!!! your best friend :(( your buddy :((

i don’t know how else to describe this other than a dog-like caregiver

energy is always up, even when its bedtime which can be counterproductive sometimes. although? not completely? he definitely helps you tire yourself out until you’re knocked out on the couch

his nickname for you is giggles !! your giggles are his favorite thing in the whole wide world and makes sure to tell you that often.

lee minhyung (ᓀ‸ᓂ)

read here !

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ

read here !

extra ! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

cg!johnny+yuta is being hit with whiplash every two seconds because they can either be the sweetest people ever or pranksters from the deepest depth of WICKEDNESS AND DARKNESS. they always, always, always tag team too, so it’s not like you can run to one when they other is trying to tickle you to death

cg!jeno+jungwoo is what happens when a baby is left alone with an old, tired dog (jeno) and his younger brother that has all the energy in the world (jungwoo)

cg!taeyong+doyoung has the same power imbalance as djj, leaving doyoung groveling at the ground even when he’s supposed to be the one taking care of the others

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slotmachines-fearofgod · 4 months ago

Text

babby ahsoka + twins

Please enjoy this not proofread not edited not ready WIP! we need more baby ahsoka & clones in the world

---

For the first time in his (relatively short) life Rex was at a loss.

They were investigating some temple on behalf of the Jedi. Anakin had been sent because of his intense attunement to the Force and the 501st had happily followed his lead. Rex hadn’t gotten much out of the man, just that the Jedi would know what to do and all he needed to worry about was following their lead.

Rex was going to kill him.

When they first landed and entered nothing had seemed off. It was an old, crumbling structure built by neither Jedi nor Sith millenia ago. The Jedi wanted it investigated due to the strange flow of energy around it, an energy that had steadily been increasing over the past month until the signal reached Coruscant itself. Rex had braced himself for mental games or mind tricks but there had been nothing.

In fact, there had been so little sign of anything that Anakin decided it would be best for them to split up. Coming as a surprise to no one Ahsoka took Fives, Echo, and Rex along with her down the side passageways, leading them through a winding maze Rex wasn’t sure he’d be able to figure out on his own.

Which was what led them here.

Rex stared down at the three children in front of him and felt the vague urge to cry.

Fives blinked up at him, his big eyes full of curiosity as he looked at Rex’s armor. Rex, still frozen from where he’d busted through the door that had trapped his compatriots, watched as his second waddled up to him and grabbed his kama.

“Fives?” Rex croaked, incredibly out of his depth.

Fives laughed brightly, “See Echo! I told you it would catch on.”

Echo, now half his original size, scowled, “No fair. Why do you get the fun name?”

Ahsoka, his little commander, his almost-sister, his charge, stuck her finger in her mouth and immediately jammed it into Echo’s ear.

Echo yelped, scurrying away from the girl who was grinning with her fangs out, “Ew!”

“What’s your name?” Ahsoka asked, seemingly innocent.

Echo grumbled quietly so they couldn’t hear, still trying to wipe the spit out of his ear.

Fives ran over to him, laughing all the way, “It’s Echo! It’s ‘cause he only repeats what the trainers say!”

“Shut up!” Echo’s face lit up red as he smacked his brother, “I do not!”

“Ow!” Fives whined, rearing up to hit Echo back, “Don’t be such a tubie!”

“I hate you,” Echo growled, “Stop being so mean.”

“I’m Ahsoka!”

Both clone cadets momentarily paused to look at the togruta girl.

“I’m a Jedi!”

And with that their feud was forgotten. Rex sighed and walked over, accepting that this was his life now, as Echo launched question after question at a giggling Ahsoka. Fives was trying to bodily drag her away to see her do “cool Force shit,” leaving Rex to wade in between the pack to pick up the little padawan.

“Hey,” Fives complained, “Give her back.”

“Hush,” Rex fixed him with a look, “Give me a sitrep cadet.”

Fives rolled his eyes, a move that would’ve gotten him another hour of training at the least on Kamino, while Echo stiffened into a less than perfect parade rest.

“Sir!” Echo started, his voice just a little too loud in the echoing chamber, “Myself and CT-5555 were enjoying our downtime in the bunks. We were taking the allotted rest period to sleep and woke up here in this…where are we? Sir.”

Rex sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, “We are on the planet Erot in the Outer Rim. As for the name of this place, I was not granted access to that information.”

All three kids' eyes widened.

“Outer Rim?” Ahsoka asked, “That’s so cool!”

Rex shifted her onto his hip so she’d be easier to carry. If he had to guess, they were all about five or six standard years. They could speak plainly and fluently and had little coordination issues, but they were much younger then they’d been a mere five minutes ago.

“Ahsoka,” Rex started, “Do you remember what you were doing in this room?”

Ahsoka shook her head, now looking around the space, “No. I was in the creche with Uzaa and we were going to class with Master Che. I was late.” Ahsoka looked down sheepishly, a blush of her own on her face.

Rex smiled weakly, “It’s alright. We’ll work it out.”

“Who are you?” Fives piped up, never content with being silent too long.

“I’m Rex,” he could answer that at least, “Captain Rex.”

“Captain?” Echo looked up at him with something like admiration, “Wow. Does that mean the war has started?”

“What war?” Ahsoka asked, now alarmedly squirming in Rex’s arms, “Why do you all look the same?”

Rex winced, “It…may be best if we regroup before we talk about everything,” he said apologetically, “But I’ll explain.”

Ahsoka frowned, wiggling so much that Rex gave up and just set her down, “Okay. Are we going back home?”

That was a good question. Right now Rex wasn’t sure what to do with his sort-of soldiers. And there was no way he was getting back through the tunnel system without a guide to help.

Rex looked around the room, searching for clues or hints of what did this to them. There were strange carvings on the floor in the center and metal piping running along the ceiling, but other than that the place seemed empty. Devoid of anything and everything except for the group of four at the door.

Rex pinched his nose as he pulled up his comm, already dreading this call.

“Skywalker here, what’s your status Rex?”

“Uh,” Rex looked down at three innocent and eager faces, “I need a rendezvous at my position ASAP.”

“What?” Skywalker’s voice changed, now startled and anxious instead of cool and collected, “What happened to Ahsoka? She can’t lead you?”

Ahsoka gasped, “He knows me?”

“...What was that?”

“That is my predicament sir,” Rex sighed again, “I believe your padawan activated something. ARC troopers Fives and Echo are down along with Tano.”

“ARC trooper?!” Fives cried in excitement, now bouncing on his toes, “We make ARC troopers?”

Rex gave all three of them a scolding look and pressed a finger to his lips. They all looked down at their feet, adequately shamed.

“Riiight,” Skywalker drawled, “Sounds like I should see this myself. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Bring Kix please,” Rex tiredly requested.

“Of course,” Skywalker sounded less upset now. It helped soothe some of Rex’s own nerves as he mentally cussed out stupid Force shit in every language he knew. “I look forward to seeing what this is about.”

Rex let out a breath of relief as the call ended. He sat heavily next to the kids, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

At least until Echo rounded in front of him.

“Captain?” Echo asked in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“Are we in trouble?”

Rex softened a bit and shook his head, “No. It’s just been a long day.”

Echo hummed, “So is it true? Has the war started?”

Ah yes. The great war. The one they used to dream about as kids. Their strange light at the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah,” Rex said hoarsely, staring into Echo’s eyes and suddenly being hit with the realization that this Echo’s brothers were still alive, “It’s started.”

Echo frowned, “But you’re not an A clone. Why are you deployed?”

Rex shook his head, “It’s complicated. We’ll explain later, I promise.”

Echo seemed unhappy with that answer, but he didn’t get another word in before Fives was bullying his way into Rex’s line of sight.

“You said we’re ARC troopers,” Fives accused, “But we haven’t even graduated our base combat modules!”

Rex laughed softly, “You’ll get there someday. Trust me.”

Fives scowled, unsatisfied with Rex’s half answer but Rex wasn’t really sure how much to tell them. Telling them everything - Rishi, their batch’s destruction, their missions with Torrent - seemed unwise. They were still kids. They deserved to be kids. Just for a little bit.

Rex startled as he felt a weight lean into his side, briefly reaching for his blaster before looking over and realizing it was Ahsoka.

She looked up, her usually large eyes now seeming comically huge on her face, “‘M cold.”

Right. Togrutas were warm blooded. And she hadn’t gotten as lucky as Fives and Echo, whose blacks shrunk with them. She was still stuck with her skirt and stupid tube top. Rex wanted to rip that thing to shreds and replace it with armor. He’d had the instinct many times before but now…

Rex just opened his arms, allowing the girl to crawl into his lap with a happy sigh.

He glanced at Echo and Fives, unsurprised to find them bickering quietly off to the side.

“Boys,” he called, his voice booming around the chamber, “Cut it out.”

Fives made a frustrated noise and stomped his foot, going off to sulk in the corner, while Echo stared after him with an angry look. Eventually the younger of the two made it over, subtly checking out of Ahsoka had left any room in Rex’s lap.

Rex scooted backward against the wall so the three of them could sit more comfortably before he called out, “Fives. Come here.”

Fives turned around, stuck his tongue out, and turned back to the corner.

“CT-5555,” Rex put a little more authority into his voice, “Now.”

Fives hesitated, fighting with himself a little bit, before groaning and stomping over. Rex gave him an appraising once over, finding nothing wrong with him other than the attitude.

“What’s this about?” Rex tried his best to go for strict older brother but he was pretty sure the image was ruined by the two kids in his lap.

“Don’t wanna be here,” Fives mumbled, crossing his arms and looking down, “I miss 4040.”

Ah. Cutup. Fives’ favorite of his old batch.

Rex relaxed a bit, crooking his finger at Fives and watching the kid tentatively step toward him, “It’ll be alright. We’ll get you three fixed up in no time.”

“Fixed?” Echo craned his neck to look up at Rex.

Rex winced, knowing where Echo probably jumped to, “Back home, I mean.”

Echo nodded, slumping against Rex as Fives tried, and mostly succeeded, to fit himself between his brother and his future commander. Rex held the three of them in his arms and tried to remember to breathe.

He didn’t know what to do with this. They couldn’t fight and there was no way in hell Kamino would take Fives and Echo back. He didn’t have the first clue what to do with Ahsoka, hell he didn’t even know if they’d allow her back at the temple after this. Were the Jedi as strict as the Kaminoans? Certainly not except for the exceptional cases. The issue was this was most certainly an acceptable case.

They sat in a tight anxious silence for the next few minutes. Rex was shielding as best he could, but his skills were rudimentary at best and he knew it was getting to Ahsoka. Adding on to that Fives and Echo kept poking each other and making faces when they thought Rex wasn’t looking. Eventually one of them was going to hit Ahsoka and he just knew that would start an all out war.

Ahsoka perked up before the rest of them, her eyes going wide and her figure stilling. Rex let out a sigh of relief, well aware of what that meant by now.

Sure enough, a few moments later they heard hurried footsteps and a few calls between troopers. Rex had them all stand, drawing his blasters and putting on his helmet as he walked to the door.

Skywalker was the first in line, his face curious but not alarmed. Rex let the blasters fall when he saw him, nodding respectfully to his general.

“Rex,” Anakin greeted him, “Mind showing me what this is about?”

Rex nodded, peeking over his shoulder to see Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. That was good. The boys would love Hardcase.

“Yeah,” Rex stepped aside and pointed at the trio of children, “Feel free to take a look.”

Anakin, it seemed, had the same reaction to children as Rex did. Which was freeze.

Kix nudged him aside easily, sparing a curious glance at his general, before he too paused in the doorway.

“Hi!” Ahsoka waved cheerily, one of her hands in Echo’s, “I’m Ahsoka!”

#arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #ahsoka tano #captain rex #deaged fic #idk i just needed one #these are my guilty pleasure #and there arent a lot for clone wars #:(#star wars tcw #star wars #tcw fanfic #fluff #omg i can finally use that tag

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tartigglez · 2 years ago

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"would you?" pt.1

zhongli x f!reader

・❥・smut with plot, mostly

・❥・1.8k

・❥・16+ light yandere!zhongli, reader is called princess, light brat taming, reader gets picked up, hickeys, aftercare, reader turned adpetus i guess, they get engaged lol, reader gets sick at one point, flashbacks in orange, cliffhanger bc pt.2 will come soon.

・❥・hi folks! new theme, things are gonna be a lot tidier around here from now on, and hopefully a little more serious, i'll be making a new blog for shitposting methinks, enjoy the fic! (ps. sorry celeste, i love you really <3)

rex lapis was not allowed to fall in love with mortals. the laws of the land, of celestia itself, forbade it. but then again, who has ever had the courage to tell the rex lapis that he couldn’t do something? when he has the ability to end them right then and there, who would ever say no to him?

the prime of adepti has, of course, never once doubted his capability to share his power and transform a mortal into an adeptus, but this wouldn’t be right, it wouldn't be proper, now would it?

would it?

if the power of love had blinded even the very strongest of the archons, how could there possibly be any hope for anyone else?

and so, these circumstances resulted in rex lapis, the god of contracts, doing what he does best, writing up a contract. a contract which was not really a contract, one which he knew didn’t have any real value, because it didn’t matter if you signed it or not, he was still going to carry out his end of the bargain. he would change the form of your body, because he knew that he never wanted to let you go. he wanted to become one with you, to merge with you. he never wanted you to leave…

it started with the basics, sharing his power, his authority. he had to consider how to alter your very being, to change you. then it came to him, he needed to ask you something important, something so crucial to his plan that it couldn’t be avoided, something he had wanted to ask you ever since the moment you both met, but he knew he had to restrict himself, to hold himself back. archons, he was so done with holding himself back.

it was on a late night stroll in liyue harbour when he asked you, when he took your hand in his, when he pulled out a small box from his jacket, and dropped down, on to one knee…

was he seriously doing this? was this actually happening? you never would’ve expected it to be right now but…

“darling, will you marry me…?”

you suddenly felt… lightheaded. not because you wanted to say no, simply because you loved him so much, and he was finally ready for the contract.

“y-yes… yes! i will! i will!”

after giving you a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and putting the ring onto your finger, he stood up from his kneeling position. he then grabbed you by the waist, pressed your lips together, and kissed you, to seal your promise to each other.

his plan was finally in action.

when the pair of you finally got home from your walk, the first thing you did was pin him against the front door, pressing your lips upon his, so desperate for his attention, despite the fact that you already knew he rarely ever paid any to things that weren’t you. he gripped your wrists and rapidly pulled them together in order to wrap one of his hands around them, flipping you over and trapping you against the door, and you quickly realised how this was going to go.

“already in need, princess? how lovely” gosh he was a tease. for someone who was normally so reserved and calm, he certainly changed his tune when he wanted you, when he needed you.

you could feel your cheeks heating up when having to admit to your longing for him, “jus’ want you,”

“well i’m right here, aren't i?” the mock fell straight from his lips, dark, lustful, needy.

he tilted his head to the side, closing the gap between you both to breathe hot air near your lips, slowly moving closer, and closer, and closer, until your lips met his, gently locking together as he kissed you. at first he was soft, longing, simply showing his love for you. but, of course, it mustn't be forgotten that zhongli, rather, rex lapis, will always have dragonic instincts, and of course they were going to take over…

still pinned against the door, he became more harsh and needy in his kiss, leaning into you, as you began to feel his fangs brush against your tongue. upon letting go of your hands, he gripped onto your waist with one hand, staring you in the eyes, serious, but loving.

“is this okay, my love?”

“more than okay, ‘li”

“good.”

he quickly viced his lips on your neck, moving his large, veiny hands down your body slowly, listening for your pretty little breaths, until one reached your thigh, the other resting on your ass. he quickly picked you up, moving your legs to encircle his waist, still kissing and biting your neck rapidly, never staying in one place for more than a few seconds. as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sweetly playing with the little curl that sits at the back of his neck, he began manoeuvring you, slowly walking up the stairs to your bedroom.

fuck, it was going to be a long night…

the first thing you felt as you woke up was zhongli’s hands -now larger than usual, having large black and gold talons at the end- carding through the hair on one side of your head, gently massaging your scalp. you were both completely naked, the warm, soft skin of his chest against your cheek as you rested your head upon him. you moved slightly, feeling the sweaty, sticky air between the two of you. truly, whilst zhongli was normally a kind and caring lover, who only ever wanted to make you feel good, this would sometimes prove to be at your own expense later. you were exhausted, and in pain, not horribly, but it was undoubtedly noticeable.

“darling, you're awake” his dark, mahogany voice echoed through your ears, reminding you of the sweet, yet vicious praises it whispered against your neck the night before.

“are you okay?” this time, his tone had changed. he was nothing but sweet, loving, kind. he seemed genuinely worried about you. he always was, after things like this happened between the two of you. he was always so frightened that he would hurt your soft, frail mortal body. he was afraid that he would inflict pain on you when being caught up in the moment.

“i’m okay, just… sore”

you moved slightly, attempting to roll off him, and onto your back upon the mattress. however, this failed, the aching in your muscles taking over as you collapsed back on to him, feeling a sticky fluid near your crotch, and starting to recall the events of last night…

“c’mon pretty girl, you can take it. just one more, hm? just one more. you can do that for me princess, can’t you?” he was thrusting into you at insane, unnatural speeds, hitting the very deepest points inside, teasing you with his words, but giving you everything with his body..

you gently mewled into his shoulder, trying desperately to take his cock, but it was so much, so, so, much. “i can take it ‘li, have to take it fo-”

“i told you, that’s not my name, princess. behave.”

“m’sorry, m-morax. so s-sorry”

just hearing the whisper of the name he had only been called so many moons ago coming from you was enough to send him over the edge, enough to send him spiralling, enough for him to spill globs of sweet, sticky cu-

“should i run you a bath sweetheart? perhaps it would help relieve some of the aching, hm?” his gentle voice interrupted your train of thought, as the pads of his fingers drifted ever so lightly over your back, providing comfort and warmth.

“yeah, yeah that’d be nice, ‘li,” you softened your voice as he gently pulled the duvet off the two of you, sitting up slowly, and helping you move your form off his body, softly placing you on the mattress. you pulled the duvet up over you again, as he made his way to the chest of drawers next to your bed, grabbing a pair of boxer briefs, and putting them on, despite the fact that he was still covered in both your release, and his own.

“i’ll be back soon, darling,”

placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he left the room, making his way to the bathroom. the acoustics there echoed the sound of water running out of the baths tap, as well as zhongli… lighting candles? he wanted everything to be perfect for you, because although his immediate primal instinct was to mate, the one that came right after was to look after you.

in all truth, he knew that you enjoyed this, of course he did, but there was some part of him that would always feel a pang of culpability deep within his chest. like a warning to himself. he was going to hurt you if he didn’t change you, so changing you was what he had to do…

it happened on an afternoon a few weeks later. zhongli was taking care of you, because you were sick. nothing serious, just a cold, but knowing him, you would be in bed for a week. under normal circumstances he was protective over you, so when you were ill, this was of course going to be extremely amplified.

it would be a lie if zhongli said he understood mortal sickness, but he tried his hardest to, and knew that rest would help. still, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you, sick and weak. he also couldn’t help but feel that now would be an appropriate time to ask you the question hes been intending to for a very, very long time.

“my darling,” he seated himself on the bed next to you, allowing you to drop your head onto his shoulder, still sniffling, nose red from the silk handkerchiefs he insisted you use, as opposed to tissues, which would be rougher. “i have something to ask you, and i’m not sure how you’ll react,”

“what’s up ‘li?” you move to sit up straight, crossing your legs and looking him in the eye.

“i’ve been thinking…” he trailed off. zhongli only ever trails off when he doesn’t know how to phrase something, when he’s afraid he’s going to say something wrong.

“what is it? y’know nothing you say can ever affect me that badly, right? i mean, i’m literally engaged to an archo-”

“what if i turned you into an adeptus?”

“w-what?”

“what if i could make you stay with me, by my side forever…? would you do it?”

would you?

#cael writes #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #rex lapis #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x you #morax x reader #morax #morax x y/n #here you go celeste #a meal

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hanasnx · 2 years ago

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green in the eye

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.6k SUMMARY: jealousy causes anakin’s spite to reveal itself to those you toy with. NOTES: mostly a conversation between you and hunter, and then anakin and hunter. very lightly smutty. this piece was a warm up, and i think ill write a follow up to it some other time, this was honestly kind of a prequel to a bigger project later on that i havent figured out how to make work yet. but hey if you like it and want more lmk :) jealous ani is my fave WARNINGS: anakin x reader x hunter | you flirting with hunter | anakin being an asshole | no actual smut, no implied smut either, just adult conversations ab sex ig | rex trying to help | wrecker and hunter checking out your ass | established fwb relationship with anakin | commander!reader

It was in your nature to flirt. It wasn’t like you were exclusive with your General ANAKIN SKYWALKER. Regardless of that fact, it seemed as though he encouraged faithfulness, but would refuse to explain why he expected it. It pissed you off to no end, especially because you observed how Anakin always got what he wanted, and you weren’t just going to roll over for him. Warming your bed was a privilege, not a right, and treating it so carelessly only pushed you further away.

Working with both Anakin and Clone Force 99 killed two birds with one stone.

“I like your tattoo. Got any more?” you asked HUNTER, your current object of fascination. Generously, you scanned him, noting how well he fit into his uniform. How it glinted in the warmth of the bonfire.

Hunter didn’t seem to register your flirt yet, and answered honestly while he sharpened his knife. “Yeah, underneath all this armor.” If only he stopped to process it a second longer, he would’ve realized how invitational he came off.

“Oh,” you replied, intrigued, as you bit your bottom lip. At the words, Hunter’s eyes curiously swept over to meet your sultry gaze, sharpening slowing to a halt. “Maybe you can show me sometime.” Your tone betrayed the context you referred to. Hunter gulped. It’s not often he’s spoken to so forward. He liked it. Perhaps a little too much.

Shyly nodding, he held your eye contact, and returned to his work once he realized how public this conversation was. His bashfulness only made you smile, kicking him playfully with the side of your foot and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

Anakin grit his teeth, a few feet from the fire. He’d held up his hand to Rex to signal his silence so the General could listen in, having heard your shameless flirting. Rex furrowed his brows at Anakin sticking his nose into something he shouldn’t, following when Anakin trekked over to sit near Hunter.

As casual as ever— even while knowing full well the jealous nature of Anakin Skywalker— you sighed. “I’ll go grab more firewood. We’re close to running out.” Picking yourself up, dusting your hands off, you passed by the two men. Despite their fronts facing the fire, their backs burned from the remnants of your presence as you walked by them. “Wrecker, with me. I’ll need your help to carry.”

“You got it, Commander!” he said enthusiastically as he trailed behind you. Unbeknownst to you, both Wrecker and Hunter watched your hips sway. Anakin kept his suspicious eyes on the pair until you were out of view. When Hunter noticed how unwavering the General’s gaze on him was, he cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence.

“She’s trouble.” he scoffed, the scrape of his stone against his knife filling the air with white noise.

“More trouble than she’s worth, I can assure you.” Anakin spoke from experience, but he didn’t realize how obvious he just made that secret. Hunter’s head tilted from the minute discovery, narrowing his eyes to himself. The General’s jealousy was rearing its ugly head, and clouded his judgment.

Rex, hoping to change the subject, faked a cough as he patted Anakin’s shoulder harshly. “The tea, sir, it smells like it’s burning.”

Anakin didn’t correct him to say it wasn’t— that tea didn’t burn— but he was grateful for the reminder. He pushed forward and stirred the ladle in the pot. The herbs Anakin had handpicked swirling around in the boiling opaque green liquid.

His chronic inability to let things go caused him to continue digging. “Perhaps if you’re lucky, she’ll invite you in her tent for a roll in the sack.” he told Hunter, gauging his reaction carefully.

Abashedly, Hunter shook his head, chuckling wryly, to disguise his suffocation in this atmosphere. “Oh, no, sir. I wouldn’t distract myself on a mission like that.”

Distrustful, and stooping lower, Anakin mused as disingenuously as possible, “How noble.” It ended the conversation.

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starwarsbutmakeitgay · 1 year ago

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Miscellaneous Star Wars headcanons :3

((This aint all of them but we’d be here forever if i put all of them))

Ahsoka grows to be taller than Anakin (yes Anakin is offended by this)

Anakin’s first language isn’t Basic (its not even his second its like 4th. Outer Rim folk don’t speak a lotta Basic)

Tatooine is like Australia, Colombia and Texas combined SO the accent is Australian, Colombian and Texan combined. Luke’s Tatooine accent leans harder on the Texan side. He says howdy :)

Leia studied former politicians from the Pre-Empire days (because Bail wants his girl to be EDUCATED) and accidentally ends up learning a little about Padmé.

Leia’s first words would’ve been mama if Padmé and Anakin had gotten to raise their child

Luke felt isolated as a kid, even though he was very social. Partly because kids found him weird, partly because ‘Skywalker’ is a slave name.

Obi Wan doesn’t find it gross that Anakin eats bugs, he finds it gross Anakin eats RAW UNSEASONED bugs. So uncivilised

The Clones on Kamino have hug piles. (They need comfort ok)

Rex cries a lot in private.

Even though Aalya and Luminara are a few years older than Anakin, Anakin befriended them really quickly became friends :)

Canonically Anakin is a really good artist but doesn’t show people SOOOOooo the headcanon is Obi Wan finds a sketch of him one day by Anakin while cleaning up after Anakin’s mess in his room and loves it so much he hands it in how own room.

Padmé proposed to Anakin

Padmé gets just as jealous as Anakin, she’s just not as melodramatic and can destroy people with words

Anakin smokes from time to time (don’t tell Obi Wan or Padmé they will kill him)

Obi Wan had 0 spice tolerance before living on Tatooine and had to build it up when he started living there

Anakin, Leia and Luke are all autistic

Han is surprisingly good at mingling with ‘the higher ups’ during politics dinners/parties with Leia

Shmii was a lil bit Force sensitive and helped shield Anakin when he was little

Padmé experienced prenatal depression and didn’t tell Anakin. Or anyone.

Shmii and Anakin couldn’t write and Anakin only knew how to read a few words. Anakin learnt when he was taken to the temple

Togruta’s yawns like a snake. When Ahsoka yawned infront of Rex for the first time his soul left his body

Yoda hunts frogs in the ponds within the Temple. Little Dooku saw him donit once. No one believed him

Owen mumbles to Cleigg and Shmii while he works like they’re still alive and with him

Shmii would tell Owen tales of what Anakin was like

Both Leia and Anakin make attempts to befriend any droids they meet. Its polite :)

Luke would dig for bugs with Beru and they’d pan fry them for dinner

Vader heard so much gossip because officers and stormtroopers just assumed he wasn’t listening to their whispering.

Ahsoka is banned from any and all kitchens because she burns 99.99% of everything she cooks

Shaak Ti had to babysit lil Anakin once and found him delightfully courious

Anakin swears in Hutesse to get away with it infront of Ahsoka. Ahsoka figures it out and starts repeating after him.

Anakin is banned from 501st game nights because he’s too competitive

Obi Wan experienced really bad nightmares after Qui Gon’s death for months

Anakin thrives in disfunction

Leia never really allowed herself to properly mourn her parents. Breha and Bail always plagued her mind.

Padmé is a dancey drunk. Anakin finds this hilarious

#There are 35 headcanons here ooooooo booooyyy #i have so many thoughts #so many things to say #many many thoughts #star wars #star wars fandom #sw fandom #anakin skywalker #leia organa #padme amidala #sw #obi wan #ahsoka tano

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r0ttenb0gb0dy · 7 days ago

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Cyberpunk!Shadow Company AU by @r0ttenb0gb0dy

featuring my shadow company ocs in all their glory as well as graves!

TW FOR TYPICAL CANON VIOLENCE, MINOR GORE, ADULT LANGUAGE, MANIPULATIVE DYNAMIC DOWN THE LINE BETWEEN REX AND GRAVES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! :)

Night City has never been forgiving.

Coda knew that for many years prior to the exact instance that's reminding him of that fact, but the pack of Tyger Claw thugs chasing him through Kabuki is an excellent refresher. He doesn't have nearly enough chrome to compete with these guys, some two-bit fucking optics and a grip for his pistol, but he dropped the pistol about six blocks ago and he can't exactly stop to pick it up. It's at the point now with Wakako that he knows he owes her eds, she knows he owes her eds, and so does every nearly-psycho Tyger Claw that sees him on the street.

Evenings often end like this. Sprinting down the block, praying he finds somewhere safe to run into before they beat the credits out of him and he’s left battered and without cab fare to make it home.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Coda glances back over his shoulder to see they’ve gained a bit of distance, one of them has to be running a Kerenzikov or something, he's making Coda’s full tilt sprint look like a cakewalk. He makes the call last second to try and hop the fence into the back alley behind a bar, vaulting over it without a hitch, but he can't quite stick the landing. The dumpster breaks his fall, but he knows he isn't lucky enough to evade capture.

He should be a fortune teller, he thinks, as the Claw wrestles him out of the dumpster and up against the brick wall, a snarl of a laugh escaping as he knees Coda directly in the stomach. If he had eaten dinner, it would've been on the concrete. He writhes against the hold of several men and women, far larger than him thanks to their chrome, with little more fight to give than the spit in his mouth.

Bad idea.

“1万5千ドルだ、モレリ、それがお前の勘定に残っている金額だ!”

Coda doesn't speak Japanese.

He winces in preparation for being hit again, but to his surprise he hears gunshots, and they're close enough to have blown his head off. When he opens his eyes he sees the Claw holding him with a bright red hole where the side of his head should be, optics visibly shutting down as he crumpled and lets go of Coda. Scrambling away, towards the gunfire, he watches the other Claws drop dead before looking to his savior.

“Told them no good bastards to stay out of my fucking property.” A dark haired man mumbles, checking over a pistol in his hands. He’s pretty chromed out, a half mask covering the lower part of his face and presumably some killer implants. “You alright, kid?”

“Got a nasty fucking headache, but…yeah.” Coda says with a sigh from where he’s still sat on the ground, arms behind him for support, looking at the bloodied corpses of his attackers. “You didn't have to do that. I could've handled it.”

“That bitch had a monowire that would've cut your head off.” The brunette replies, extending a hand to Coda. He’s got smart-grips, and what looks to be mantis claws hiding beneath his sleeves. Coda can just barely make out the edge of the sharp metal implants, a subtle red glow under a suit jacket.

“Maybe I would’ve deserved it — y’don't know me, choom.” Coda isn't even close to face-to-face with the man, a height disadvantage making him feel remarkably dysphoric in his bones. He steps back and lets go of the man’s hand, looking past him to the bustling activity inside the dimly lit bar.

“Nobody deserves a fate like that — ‘sides, you look pretty harmless. Thirsty?” He doesn't miss a beat asking if Coda wants to come inside, which is a welcome gesture. These types of bars, usually you need to know someone or pay some ridiculous cover charge, so Coda considers this a stroke of luck and nods.

“Incredibly. They chased me here from Jig-Jig Street.”

“Shit, maybe I should've let them have their prey if you made ‘em run that far. Must’ve really pissed Wakako off, huh?” He holds the door for Coda to walk in and the air shifts ever so slightly, smelling of bergamot and vanilla, icy and cold.

“I owe her a few eddies.”

“15 grand isn't a few.”

“How do—”

“Real time translation implants — oughta get you a set if you're gonna keep trying to fuck over Miss Okada.” The brunette states in a matter of fact manner as they walk deeper into the bar, a neon sign behind the counter marking the place as ‘Shadows.’ It’s white neon on a black background, an ace of spades playing card smack behind the word Shadows. Something tells Coda that he shouldn't be here, but he can't quite place a finger on it, especially not when he takes a seat at the bar alongside the brunette that saved his life. He’s awkward and small in comparison to the hulking mass of a man, who speaks first to the bartender. “Two Blue Grass, double shots, on the rocks.”

“You got it, Wasp — who’s your friend?” The bartender asks the newly named fellow, Wasp, with a raised brow as he pours the drinks.

“Well, kleptoid?” Wasp asks, taking his glass and pulling his mask down. No heavy duty chrome, just a whole lot of scarring.

“Coda Morelli.”

“Spitfire. This one’s on the house, keep them sticky fingers off of anything it looks like you can't afford, yeah?” Spitfire says as he nudges Coda’s glass across the counter, a lopsided smile on the blonde’s face out of kindness. He seems much warmer in demeanor than Wasp does, but that just might be surface level customer service.

“I’m not a thief, you know — I just got wrapped up in some bad biz is all.” Coda murmurs as he sips the whiskey, wincing slightly at the burn it leaves in his throat.

“You mean to tell me you racked up fifteen big ones in debt? Not stolen eds?” Wasp almost laughs. “Shit, choom, I should've let them eat you alive.”

“Yeah, it's…it's debt.” Coda sighs and slams the rest of the drink before resting his forehead against the cool surface of the bar counter, eyes shut. “But, hey, I’ll figure it out. Always do.”

“D’you think Ace has anything—” Spitfire starts, but Wasp cuts him off quickly.

“Kid isn't a merc, look at him. A gentle breeze would knock his ass out.” Coda can hear the smirk on Wasp’s face without having to see it there.

“He’s not wrong.” Coda sits up straight again, propping his head up on a closed fist. “I’m not a merc.”

“You need the scratch, don't you?” Spitfire raises a brow, idly pouring Coda a second drink without asking.

“Yeah, but—”

“If you get zeroed trying to make the scratch, it doesn't matter. You’ll die if you don't pay her back.” Spitfire says in a way that is somehow both incredibly serious and dangerously playful at the same time, like he’s daring Coda to take the bait and ask. He does.

“So…who's Ace?” Coda asks, taking a sip from the second double shot of Blue Grass. It tastes better the second time.

“Probably the only fixer that can actually get you out of this mess.” Wasp replies as he replaces his mask, standing up from the bar. He tosses a cred chip at Spitfire, who catches it, stashing it at the terminal for payment. “Come on. Let's see if he'll even entertain letting a prole take a contract.”

Coda can't help but follow.

Shadows is a cozy, dark bar, with a lively nightlife. There’s mercs drinking and dancing, brain potatoes in the corner somewhere getting their rocks off on XBD’s, and a distinct lack of gambling. It's interesting. Most places at least have some sort of slot machines or a zombie running five finger fillet with a rusty knife, but anything of the sort is absent here. Coda keeps his eyes low as Wasp leads him through the bar, through what is very clearly a joytoy hall, and then to a top floor where the owner presumably resides. There’s a door with a spade on it, just like the symbol behind the bar, but with an A in the centre of it. Wasp knocks with two knuckles, firm.

“Commander, got some fresh meat out here that wants work.” Wasp barks, and there's a subtle clatter inside the room.

“One second.” A voice calls back, and a few moments later the door opens. Who Rex can only assume to be a joytoy, dark hair and soft blue eyes, stumbles out with a huff as he adjusts the collar of his shirt. His gaze then shifts to the man behind the desk, who has a real-time face distortion field. It’s not like old world television static, more like a censor bar or black ice on the net. When his face shifts, so does it. “Evening, meat.”

“Coda Morelli.” Coda corrects, stepping into the room.

“You say your name like it should ring a bell.” The man chuckles.

“It shouldn't, but I’m not just meat. I deserve a name. Yours is..?” Coda cuts back as Wasp shuts the door, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared to save Coda in the alleyway. The air feels stuffy, especially as the owner lights a cigarette, though he does crack a window immediately afterwards.

“Ace.” The owner says back, extending a hand for a shake. He’s barren of visible implants. Coda isn't sure he even sees a jack-port on him, let alone anything on his hands or neck. “You don't look like a mercenary, Coda.”

“I’m not. I need work, though, I need the eds to pay back a debt that I owe — twice over, now, I guess because your tall, dark and angry lackey back there saved my life from the Claws hunting me down.” Coda murmurs the last part with a bit of embarrassment, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. He feels awkward and sort of like a loser, begging for work after such a close call with his own demise, but if this man can help him then it's worth it. If he can squash his debt with Wakako, then maybe he can start to find a way out of the pit he’s dug himself into.

“Sounds like him — what do you have experience with? Driving, net running?” Ace asks, taking a drag of his cigarette mid sentence, blowing the smoke out the window respectfully. He hasn't told Coda to get the fuck out yet, which is a good sign.

“I can drive, yeah.” Coda nods. “I have a Mizutani Shion MZ1, 2065. Used to run races with it.”

“You win?”

“Always, every time, sir.” Coda isn't sure where the formality came from, but it feels right on his lips. Afterall, this man could help him out, a little ass kissing won't hurt.

“Then I have a task for you. Transporting some goods from a contact out in the Badlands to here — if you get it back here safely, then I’ll pay out a nice little piece of the earnings to you. How much do you owe?”

“15 thousand.” Coda is embarrassed, it's clear in the way he shifts his gaze away.

“Done. You’ll get twenty.” Ace nods.

“What is it I’m transporting that’s worth so much?” Coda raises a brow.

“Find out when you get it here, won'tcha sugar?” Ace has a low, husky rumble to his voice that makes Coda’s hair stand on end, his eyes focusing on where Ace’s eyes should be in an instant. The empty blackness that stares back tells Coda he ought to behave on this once in a lifetime chance at saving his hide. “I’ll flick the cords over and call my contact, let him know to look for a…what, a black Mizutani?”

“How’d you guess?” Coda flashes a smile.

“I drive the same one.” Ace is smug about admitting this, but his soft expression reflects a certain kindness as well. Coda is about to make a comment when he gets the notification of the coordinates, pinging so incredibly far out in the desert that he wonders if he’ll have enough gas to get there and back. He wants to ask for a meeting time, but Ace has other plans. “Better get going, kid. It's getting dark out.”

“Right.” Coda nods and backs away, out the door and into the hallway before he can even register what he’s gotten himself into. He feels his pockets, checking for his keys. It's not often that he actually calls his Mizu out or uses the auto-driving features, because truthfully the fee is outrageous, but this sort of mission beckons the frivolous eddie spending. If he succeeds, then he can afford a permanent subscription to the auto-arrival feature. All that exists in his mind as he steps back outside and onto the sidewalk in front of Shadows, pressing the auto-arrival button on his keys, is the notion that there’s a way out of this hole.

It only takes a few minutes for the car — affectionately named “Betty” to pull up — and for Coda to get behind the wheel. It's already warmed up, the engine, so he floors it in the direction of the Badlands coordinates. His main hand taps anxiously at the steering wheel as the other holds the shift stick with intention, expertly moving between gears to make the engine roar out as he weaves in and out of inner city traffic.

Eventually, the traffic breaks, and he can see the stars. Night City’s light pollution is a distant memory in the desert, out in the wild, breathing in slightly cleaner air. Coda reaches over and pops his glove compartment, grabbing his backup pistol from where it's stashed, checking that it's loaded as he pulls up to the middle of nowhere. It's a landfill, essentially, a junkpit. Full of Night City’s discard, probably a few dead bodies and a booster or two.

He leaves his engine idling as he gets out of the car, stuffing his pistol in the back of his jeans with an anxious huff as he waits. No headlights in sight. Regretting that he didn't ask Ace for any sort of contact information regarding the person he was to be meeting, he pulls his phone out and thumbs over it. The screen glows quietly, showing a lack of text messages and the music that's playing in Betty, some melodic metalcore that quickly fades whenever he sees headlights approaching.

Quickly.

The car, some nomad modified special, drifts across the sand and skids to a stop mere inches from Coda’s front bumper. He scrambled back to avoid the impact, pulling his heat the instant he saw the gonk that was driving it fall out. It's a nomad, sure as hell, of the Bakker variety. He’s got a hole in his chest, bleeding profusely, and a look in his eyes that screams terror.

“Hey — fuck — you’re Ace’s merc, right?” The Bakker gonk asks, hand pressed to the gaping wound as he stumbles to his knees, then to his feet.

What the fuck did Coda get himself into here?

“Uh — sure.” Coda nods slowly. “You alright, choom?”

“I’ll be fine, listen — the package is in the back, don't — don’t fuckin let them catch up. Maelstrom gonks.” The Bakker nomad huffs as he stumbles to the trunk of the car, Coda following with an anxious twitch to his aiming hand.

He doesn't feel safe, something's fucking wrong, it's like he can feel the danger without seeing it.

Maelstrom is bad news, this he knows, but something about having a half dead nomad talk him through the process whilst actively bleeding out from these guys…it makes it feel all the much more terrifyingly lethal. The trunk opens and he swears he can hear cars in the distance, growing closer, engines screaming louder. His gaze shifts to a large metal container, several massive locks in place on it, with a big, fat MaxTac logo smacked on the front of it.

“Get going, kid, I’ll hold ‘em off you as long as I can.”

“Wait, wait, MaxTac?” Coda stutters. “The fuck is this thing?”

“Are you the only fuckin’ prole in the city that doesn't know to delta the fuck out when they hear about Maelstrom coming or what?” The nomad barks, hand still pressed to the gaping wound on his chest. Coda doesn't answer, just picks up the case and jogs to the back of Betty, popping her trunk and gently placing it inside. When he looks back up, he can see the nomad wrenching an oversized rifle out of the back of his ride. He’s propping it up on the trunk, bracing it against the shoulder that isn't wounded, not even glancing back to see if Coda is running.

He is.

It doesn't cross his mind that he should protect the Bakker clan member, not whenever Maelstrom is clearly interested in whatever Ace has him transporting. Betty is hurtling across the desert before he can even begin to question his choices, he’s shifting and steering with the same hand whilst the other is fucking with his phone, trying to find contact information for Ace. Afterall, he flicked the cords over, he should be somewhere in there…

“You've reached the voicemail box at the office of The Shadows, leave a message after the—” Coda practically throws his phone into the backseat and glances back in the rear view mirror to see several sets of headlights tailing him.

“Motherfucker.” Coda mutters under his breath as he shifts once again, car rapidly making way towards the bridge entering back into Watson, which he knows he can get into Kabuki from. If he just takes a deep breath and navigates the streets, he can fucking do this. He just has to lose the Maelstrom rats along the way, right?

Gunfire. It's getting closer. They really want this package, don't they?

Coda keeps looking back as he drives, eventually deciding that he can't risk returning fire. He needs to lose them the old fashioned way, with good and hard driving, as fast as he possibly can in crowded streets. Night City is a bustling hub around every corner, with sharp turns and complicated traffic laws. Good thing he intended on ignoring street lights and crosswalk signals. There was no way he could be a lawful citizen right now, not if he wanted to take this package back to Ace and get his miracle paycheck.

He just prayed that the badges weren't going to be in his way, and floored it. Coda turned the radio up so loud that he couldn't hear the gunfire or the thumping of his heart in his head, eyes affixed on the road ahead and the peripheral traffic interference.

The bullets are penetrating the car. He can hear it, the thwip of full metal jackets slicing through the metal exterior.

Hard turns. Bearing into the curves. Coda can't breathe. He’s watching with nothing short of terror as two large, kitted out Maelstrom cars pull up alongside him and attempt to push him back and forth. Cars are swerving out of the way frantically, he's certain that he can hear police sirens in the distance, eyes locking briefly with a bunch of beady, red optical implants on the gonk driving the car on his right. They make eye contact and then he can see the barrel of a gun, flinching on instinct and taking the gunshot directly to the upper arm.

Everything is a burning, searing pain, but he doesn't stop driving.

He doesn't even slow down.

Coda decides to take an alternate route back to Shadows, whipping Betty around a post with expert skill, losing two of the Maelstrom chasers in the process.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Coda lets a shaky breath out as he starts navigating the streets to the best of his ability, scanning the signs to see where he needed to go. His hands aren't shaking anymore. There’s confidence in the way he swerves in between other cars, despite the gaping bullet wound in his arm that’s screaming in pain.

A few more blocks.

He watches in complete fear as a couple of badge cars round the corner and cut Maelstrom off, leaving him a few precious seconds to speed up and evade them, which he does. With Betty whipped into a parking spot outside Shadows, he sits there with the bass blasting for just a minute more, white-knuckle grip on the wheel as tight as ever. Well, with one hand. The other isn't able to grip as tightly as he would appreciate, not with the — oh, that's worse than he thought it was.

When he looks down at the bullet wound he's sure they must've been hollow points or explosive rounds, because it's not just a gaping maw of flesh — he isn't sure there's much at all aside from bone holding his arm on, and even then it’s been shattered by the bullets. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.

At least it wasn't his head.

He’s still sitting there, shaking ever so slightly, when someone thumps on the window to the driver's side door, which swings open a second later. Wasp. Coda wasn't sure that he could ever assume that big, angry looking fucker to be a sight for sore eyes, but here he was.

“You’re alive.” Wasp scoffs. “Bones, gimme a hand, would you?”

“Bones?” Coda murmurs.

“Oh, pequeño, está bien. Bones está aquí, estás en buenas manos.” A dark haired woman is in his line of sight in an instant, thick red chunks of dyed hair sticking out in the midst of the natural hue. She’s a ripperdoc, she has to be, she’s got all sorts of BioMon implants and a stethoscope around her neck. Her sclera are white, but her actual pupils appear to be red crosses. “Coda, right?”

“Yeah — right, no— where’s Ace?” Coda argues as Bones helps him out of his car, watching as Wasp pops his trunk open to retrieve the MaxTac case. The Merc whistles as he picks it up, seemingly in awe that he actually has his hands on the contents. It has to be something priceless, something worth murdering for. In Night City, that bar is low, but with MaxTac grade gear…it has to be something good.

“Can you relax, kid? You survived, Bones’ll take care of you — Ace doesn't forget an act of bravery like this one.” Wasp isn't very convincing, but the needle that Bones is injecting him with is. It's some sort of sedative, because when Coda wakes up his vision is blurry and he’s lying uncomfortably on what he can only assume to be Bones’ table.

He doesn't know it, but he's been there for a few days. Drifting in and out of consciousness thanks to any number of painkillers to keep him satiated through the initial brunt of his injuries. Hopped up on regulation hormones to ensure he doesn’t panic upon waking up, but there's little stopping him from doing so anyways.

It's cold and hard, the table. Not cushiony by any means but she’s a ripper after all — they're life savers, not comfort bringers. He can only guess how high the fucking bill will be for this one, because he’s sure that Shadows won't comp an entire medical bill on top of the fee Ace agreed to pay him for this mess. Coda sighs and shuts his eyes again, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as the sedative wears off completely and things start to come into focus. The world is less blurry this time, sounds less sharp, lights less bright.

“Keep still.” Bones’ voice is distinct, rigid as she demands that Coda doesn't move. He obliges her without question, glancing at the curtain that's currently obstructing his view of his arm, the one with the bullet wound.

It's a blessing that he can't feel the pain anymore.

“What's the damage, doc?” Coda murmurs, holding as still as he can for fear that she’ll chastise him.

“You were due for some chrome, barely had any running.” Her only reply doesn't ease his mind in the slightest, because it makes him wonder just what she had to do. Is there a metal plate in his arm? A titanium joint replacement? It could be any number of things and he won't know until she moves the damn curtain. “You scared of going psycho or something?”

“Isn't everyone?” Coda asks, wincing slightly as Bones tweaks something behind the curtain, the pain shooting up his entire arm. He can feel it twitch independently, and he begins to fear the worst. “Is it gone?”

“Is what gone, pequeño?”

“Very funny — my arm?”

“It's…better. Consider this your scratch for the job well done, hm?”

“What about the eddies?” Coda protests, but Bones is moving the curtain before she can answer, letting him see his arm. What remains, at least. It's a full prosthetic, entirely made of high carbon steel, thin lines of neon glowing somewhere within its confines. The place where it conjoins with Coda’s shoulder is still red and angry, bandaged up, but the rest of it looks silver and pristine. He can see a sharp edge along the back of his wrist, probably a blade of some kind, as well as a brand new jackport. It doesn't hurt, but it feels strange — heavier than the old arm, like it has more heft behind it than a fist of flesh and blood ever could. “O-Oh…”

“MaxTac custom, made specially by Militech for the NCPD’s newest addition. Delivered here by you, so…I figured you’d accept it as your reward.” Bones says as she watches Coda lift his arm up and turn it over, flexing his fingers and wiggling them to ensure they all function. It's uncomfortable to say the least. He wants his arm back, without a doubt. “What? You don't like it?”

“...I agreed to be paid in scratch, doc, not…not this.” Coda says, still in shock, reaching over with his left hand to touch the cold metal surface of his right.

“I’m sure you can work out the details with Ace, guapo.” Bones replies, nonchalant as she slides away on her rolling stool, humming to herself as she slots in at her desk. The screen is showing that Coda's brand new chrome should be functioning at max capacity, so she unplugs it from the diagnostic scanner and stands. Her hands are extended to his, a gentle offering of peace to help him stand. “Come on, sleeping beauty.”

“No, I don't — I don't want this thing. I want my arm.” Coda protests firmly, his hands refusing to find Bones’.

“It's in a dumpster outside, though there's a chunk from your elbow to your shoulder that’s the closest thing to ground beef it can get without being the real thing.” Bones gestures over her shoulder towards the door, and Coda begins to wonder if it's the same dumpster he fell into when he was running from the Claws earlier that day — was it yesterday now? The timepiece integrated into the wrist of his new arm told him it was in fact three later.

He fucking hated it.

Coda takes Bones' hands within his own after he contemplated ripping the implant off, standing up on shaky legs that quickly regain their stability. She smiles at him in a way that makes him feel at ease despite the foreign body attached to him, the icy static where flesh meets metal still tingling.

“You’ll need some anti-rejection chems for a little while, but…you took to it well. Chrome suits you, Coda.” Bones looks him up and down like a hungry animal searching it's prey, and he sort of scoffs while looking away. “What? You really that disappointed about it? That thing cost a lot more than Ace was paying you.”

“I needed the money, doc.” Coda insists, sighing as he scratches the back of his head with the new hand. Metal fingertips lack nails, so it doesn't do the job quite right.

“Hm.” Bones crosses her arms. “Ace said he’d be around to check on you once you were vertical, guapo, you’ll have to ask him. Lift back up to Shadows is down the hall.”

Coda nods and thanks Bones with a cred chip carrying just a little extra scratch, a tip for a job well done even if it was work he didn't really want. She installed the chrome beautifully, and it was slowly starting to feel less foreign the more he walked around using it.

Then again, that was the point, wasn't it?

Chrome is supposed to feel like an extension of the self, especially for whoever it's custom made for. Of course this unit wasn't made for Coda, some roided out gonk on MaxTac is likely missing an arm because of this, but it sure feels like it was made for him now. He sits at the bar, flexing his fingers repeatedly from a fist to an open palm, occasionally sipping on a seltzer. Spitfire watches him, leaning on the glass bar surface as Coda plays with the new limb.

“You know, whenever I first got my leg I hated it, too. Felt strange.” Spitfire hums as he watches Coda drop his drink, still getting the hang of the whole neuro-sensitive response thing. He gave him a plastic cup for a reason, and this was why. It would've been rude to give him a glass and expect him not to drop it at least twice before really getting the hang of it.

“Was your chrome on purpose?”

“No. Lost it back when I worked with NCPD.”

“You? A corpse?” Coda laughs, picking up the dropped cup and snatching a rag from behind the counter to wipe up the spillage. “I can't imagine it.”

“Mmmhmmm…I used to love myself in a three-piece suit until one day, they had me attempting to arrest some gonk that went psycho, wanted me to zero the girl — I can't support that shit. There’s a person in there that's probably terrified.” Spitfire sighs, pouring Coda a new drink without missing a beat. Liquid comfort seems to be going a long way towards his coping with the limb-loss, that's for damn sure. “Oh — heads up, klep.”

Coda can't lie, he damn near breaks his neck to turn and see who he’s been warned about. Ace still has the live facial distortion field on, but Coda can get a view of the back of his head whenever he takes a seat beside him at the bar counter. His right ear is clipped, looks like a bullet cut through it and took a chunk, but that's as close to the face as Coda can see before it's all hazy from the black ice censor. Ace appears to be blonde, with warm tanned flesh, but again — it's difficult to discern anything more.

“What can I get you, boss?” Spitfire asks, a smile crossing his expression briefly.

“Silverhand?” Ace raises a brow.

“I don't think I remember the recipe perfectly but I can give it a shot.” The blonde bartender replies as he disappears to find the ingredients for a ‘Silverhand’, a drink that Coda hadn't heard of, but the irony isn't lost on him. He looks down at his chrome plated palm and then to Ace, who he knows is smirking despite the distortion filter.

“Well, I know you have questions, sugar. Shoot.” Ace leans forward slightly, though he’s very clearly still looking at Coda. It's awkward to make eye contact without actually making eye contact, but Coda wants some answers more than he wants humanity.

“I can't take this implant. I needed that scratch, Ace, I…I appreciate the reward, and the replacement of a busted limb, but…” Coda shakes his head and averts his gaze. “I’ll give it back if you just give me the eddies.”

“Slow down. I already talked to Miss Okada.” Ace replies as he takes the drink from Spitfire, swirling it around in the glass before taking a sip from it. He seems satisfied, because the bartender slips away without comment, leaving them to their conversation. “Your debt is paid, sug, you don't owe her a cred.”

“Huh?” Coda is baffled. Beyond baffled, fuck, he’s floored. He shakes his head once to clear his mind before turning entirely in his seat to look at Ace, or at least where his features should be under the distortion. “You paid it off?”

“Sure did — Bones said you needed the chrome, I knew you needed the eds, but therein lies a problem. That arm was gonna sell for…hell, twenty, thirty times what you owed Wakako.” Ace states as he polishes off his drink, turning to face Coda all the same. He can see the dark haired man just fine through the distortion field, watch his green eyes dart back and forth anxiously as he waits for the devastating news. Ace would deliver it with a smile, if Coda could see it. “So now you owe me — let's call it a hundred grand.”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Coda mutters, his face buried in the palms of his hands, a cold sweat running down his back. What the fuck had he done? Not only had he gone and gotten his body mangled past the point he ever saw it going, but he’d gone and dug himself into an even worse debt in the process. This time to a man he barely knows, doesn't even recognize the face of. Ace could shoot him on the street tomorrow and he’d never know it was him.

Hundreds of possibilities whir around in Coda’s mind as the reality sets in that he’s got one hell of a target on his head, but Ace’s hand on his back levels him out. It’s heavy, his touch, grounding his wandering thoughts back to earth. Ace rubs large, bounding circles with his palm, covering the entire expanse of Coda’s small back.

“With chrome like that, Coda, you’ll be an effective merc. It's got smart-weapon integration, aim assist, a built-in mantis claw — I’m sure the smart-grip’ll help with your driving, too, which I heard was impeccable.” Ace continues to idly rub Coda’s back as he praises him for the job well done, giving him a rundown of what the prosthetic can do. It almost comforts him into forgetting that Ace just smacked a several year merc contract onto Coda’s very existence.

He was property of Shadows now, at least for a while. It was better than being dead, better than being hunted by Tyger Claws until he was a shell of himself. Ace was at least trying to improve his little existence, and he wasn't kidding — this caliber of cyberware was incredibly powerful. This motherfucker could do some damage, permanent damage, to anything in Coda’s path. He sits up slowly but Ace’s hand never moves, if ever so slightly down to the small of his back. It's intimate. Uncomfortably so. He instinctively twitches to shrug Ace’s touch away but he holds firm.

“You have a place to stay in, or do you need one?” Ace asks after a long silence.

“I have an apartment in the megabuilding.”

“I’ll take over the rent payment.”

“I’m capable of paying my own rent.”

“You’re not gonna spend a cred without me knowing, sugar. I had my netrunner get access to your assets — our assets. Just to make sure that you don't delta before your debt is repaid to Shadows, of course, I won't touch any of your personal scratch.”

For some reason, Coda doesn't believe him.

“Anything else I need to know about?” Coda asks, turning to look into the black void that stares back at him. Its abyssal emptiness is a stark contrast to the warmth of Ace’s hand, snaking beneath his jacket to touch at the bare skin between his cropped shirt and the waist of his jeans.

“You’ll need a uniform. Other fixers’ll leave you alone if they know who owns you.”

He isn't sure how he feels, but fucked doesn't begin to cover it.

—

SOOOOO HOW DO WE FEEEEEEEL ABOUT IT ?!? graves fixer name is ace cause playing card get it...im so clever. mwah. i love u if u read this far.

tags //

@simonrriley @whitewolfmystery

#bogs ramblings #bogs writing #rexgraves #coda morelli #coda rex morelli #philip graves #walker wasp hayes #eric spitfire torres #cyberpunk au #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #au #oc x canon #canon x au #cod au #cyberpunk cod au #doomed toxic yaoi

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skywlker-sluvtt · 1 year ago

Note

Obviously I have a request now 🫶🏻, Can I have hurt/comfort prompts #4 & #59 with Anakin pleaseeeee, I need him to make me suffer and then fix me again ☝🏻😁

Once again congratulations angel mwah mwah 🫧

— fuckmyskywalker 🐚

HEY BABYGIRLLLLLL!!!! this one made me giggle and kick my feet with all the angst <3

500 followers celebration 500 masterlist

anakin x gn!reader sfw! (me writing something smutless 🤩) word count: 497 prompts: 4 “why should I listen to you?” + 59 “why do you care so much?”

You were sat in the med-bay angrily still slightly numb from the anesthetic. It didn’t take long before Anakin came storming through. “What were you thinking!?” He growled. “I was thinking about my duty” You replied dismissing his anger. “Your duty? Rex and I had to risk our lives to save yours! Stop being so selfish, you do this every mission” He snapped. “Selfish? I didn’t ask for help, you should’ve just left me” You replied. “You wanted us to just leave? My duty is to protect you. Stop only thinking about yourself” Anakin continued. “I’m not thinking about myself! The only reason we got out of that ship was because of me! You would’ve never been at risk if you had just left me” You argued.

Anakin sent you a stern look shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t get it, do you?” He asked. “Why do you care so much? You’re a Jedi, I’m just a pathetic civilian to you!” You shouted. “You’re not just a civilian to me. How can you even think that?” He said reaching his hand to touch your arm. You flinched away from him the pain of the blaster wound in your shoulder sending a burning sensation through your side. “I care about you Y/N” He stated. “Why should I listen to you? Y-You’re just saying that to make me feel bad” You replied.

“Why would I bother lying to you? Why don’t you believe me I really, really care about you” Anakin said now sitting at the end of your cot. You rolled your eyes and fixed your bandage silently. “I-I’d almost say that I loved you” Anakin whispered placing his hand on your leg comfortingly. “You don’t mean that do you?” “Of course I do, I’ve felt that way about you since the day you joined my battalion” He smiled. “No one’s said that to me before” You whisper.

He leaned forward with a small smile and wrapped you in his arms carefully. Anakin’s warm embrace sent a fiery feeling up your spine. Your heart began to beat rapidly as you reached your uninjured arm to his back and swallowed hard. The warmth Anakin was emitting was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. He held you against him for a long time, resting your head against his shoulder you sucked in a shaky breath.

“I care about you too” You whispered. “Then you won’t risk your life like that again?” He questioned pulling back to gaze at you. “I won’t” You whispered. “Good” He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You looked up at him with wide eyes and blushed before kissing his cheek in return. “Anakin will you stay here, just for a little while longer?” You asked softly. “Of course, beautiful”

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin angst #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars fic #anakin imagine #anakin fic #500 follower celebration

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ahsokathegray · 1 year ago

Text

Pent Up in the Skywalker Penthouse || Part One

Pairings: Rexsoka, Anidala

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Oct. ‘23 - Body Heat

Summary: The war is won and the holidays have arrived. Ahsoka's plans for the solstice have fallen through, but Anakin's made it his business to make sure she isn't spending them alone while house sitting.

Tags: 18+, language, explicit sexual content, accidental voyeurism(?), accidental drug use, angst

Word Count: 6,313

A/N: If you haven’t already, go give @rexsoka-monthly a follow and join us in supporting and creating prompt-based Rexsoka content! 🫶

read on ao3! / masterlist

The wrinkles between Ahsoka’s brow markings deepened, the lines staying longer than they used to. Anakin tried not to notice.

She glanced between him and Padmé, swallowing any words her younger self would’ve blurted without second thought. “Of course,” she settled on, forcing a smile upon her cracked lips and attempting to appear opposite than how she felt.

Typically, on the annual Winter Solstice, they were side by side on the battlefield. War never halted for special occasions, birthdays, or even holidays, but Master and Padawan always found a moment to celebrate — even if it was sat atop a heap of clankers and splitting one more ration bar than they ought to have.

But the war had ended, Ahsoka had returned to the Jedi Order as a Knight, and Anakin had stepped down to be a husband and father. Naturally, he’d want to spend the holidays with his real family.

It was rare now that they even saw one another. There was no more passing by him in the Temple or finding him arguing with Master Kenobi in the war room. They had been actively mending that absence these last several months over a series of dinners. Though strained, their relationship was improving. Ahsoka had even watched the twins for him and Padmé a few times while on leave so that they might have a date night to themselves.

She had assumed that she’d get to spend the solstice with the Skywalker family — this time at an actual table rather than a makeshift one made from a still-smoking spider droid, sharing a tender roast nuna instead of stale rations.

Except the galaxy had changed and, with it, their pitiful tradition. Ahsoka recalled the previous year’s Winter Solstice. She’d spent it in a hungry, teeth chattering, loneliness in the Coruscant Underworld — save for the orange tooka that found its holiday feast in the trash bins beside her.

This year was supposed to be different, warm, stable. Instead, she would be spending it alone again, house sitting in the Skywalker penthouse.

“It’ll be nice to get away. Luke and Leia can’t miss their first Festival of Light,” she added, trying not to dote on her collapsed plans and instead recalling how brilliant the Naboo festival had been while the war still waged. The first one after the execution of Chancellor Palpatine was sure to be a monumental event.

“Thank you, Ahsoka. We’ll be back in just a few days,” Padmé smiled softly, her comforting eyes empathetic and reassuring. It was impossible to fight off her contagious, radiant positivity.

Anakin nodded at his wife’s words. “I’m sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. When we get back, we’ll have you and Obi-Wan over for dinner. Even Rex… and Cody too if he’s around. It’ll be just like old times,” he grinned, crossing his arms and donning his signature smirk.

He noticed how the lines in Ahsoka’s face softened at the Captain’s name, followed by a flash of pain behind the blue of her eyes as the lines redrew themselves.

Padmé had kicked her husband’s foot under the table on countless occasions, warning him not to speak too long on the subject of Rex. Each time the good Captain had come up in casual conversation, Ahsoka’s responses became curt. It was always the same dance:

“Have you seen Rex lately?”

“Not really.”

“He was over here a few nights ago for dinner and asked about you.”

“Oh? I’ll have to catch up with him then.”

Ahsoka noticed how the tired Senator leaned into Anakin and gave him a discreet nudge with her elbow. “We’ll return the day after the celebrations and not a moment later,” Padmé said, walking over to a (surely priceless) bowl to retrieve the passkey to the apartment and placing it in Ahsoka’s open palm, squeezing it with her own before she let go. “Don’t worry about watering Ani’s Felucia fern. It’s long dead. He’s a much better parent to the kids than he is to plants. We’ve got a stocked kitchen and the guest bedroom has already been prepared for you. Please, make yourself at home, Ahsoka. Comm us if you need anything at all.”

“Oh and Snips, don’t clean me out of candied bofa fruits this time,” Anakin teased, knowing she wasn’t the culprit that one time and also that she was too old for that nickname now — but using it anyway to lighten the mood.

It worked. Briefly.

Staying in a penthouse was wildly different than staying in the Jedi Temple. Ahsoka knew well that this didn’t account for even half of the luxuries to be had in the galaxy, but it was still something that left her stunned when opening something as simple as the utensil drawer.

What was previously Padmé’s apartment, was now the family apartment. Ahsoka couldn’t comprehend how one person could have a need for so much space. Even with the addition of her husband and two kids, the home still seemed to have a faint echo lingering about.

She found quickly that said echo could be somewhat muffled inside the master refresher — which was its own overly large area, shimmering in gold and encrusted with precious gems. The walls were painted to resemble the lake country of Naboo, frescoes depicting waterfalls, boats, and springtime flora in full bloom. If Ahsoka had to guess, Padmé spent much of her time in this room.

A glance to the sonic told her that the water cascaded from the multiple shower heads in a mock waterfall style. Of course it did. Spending the solstice on Naboo made more sense now. Coruscant was not Padmé’s home — it was Anakin’s and his wife was homesick.

She looked at the claw-foot bathtub in the center of the room. It was so large that it could’ve fit two people comfortably. Ahsoka pressed her cracked lips together and the ache in her muscles felt as though it had doubled. This wasn’t the case, however, it only felt like it at the proximity of such promised relaxation.

Massaging the knot in her back, Ahsoka decided on her plans for the night.

Back in the guest’s quarters, she’d found that Anakin had a hand in making sure that her stay would be as comfortable as possible. The heat was on, her favorite snack food was stacked on the nightstand, and a Shilian holo drama was on the big screen. She smiled to herself.

The other nightstand had a different selection available — snacks she recognized but didn’t reach for often. Perhaps Anakin just wanted to give her more than enough variety during her stay. He really was serious about the bofa fruit, then.

Her own refresher wasn’t nearly as decadent as the master, but still just as impressive. Fluffy towels were stacked on the counter space and Ahsoka clutched one to her chest before padding back across the apartment to the massive claw-foot tub surrounded by murals of the lake country.

Her right montral soon cradled the lip of the tub and her eyes grew heavy with the warmth. The combination of the candles, the dark, and the pink bath crystals were working to whisk her off to sleep, making each moment lasting longer than was supposed to. Ahsoka sank deeper and the soapy water lapped at her skin, swallowing more of her the longer she was in there. All that stuck out above the surface now was her shoulders and head. Her lekku swayed in the water and grazed the hardened peaks of her nipples, pulling a gasp from her cracked lips.

Her eyes opened long enough to see that it was now snowing on Coruscant. Flurries danced downward through the floor length windows, looking like stars in a light polluted sky.

Stars were never visible from the surface of Coruscant.

Ahsoka’s breathing picked up just a little bit, briefly forgetting that the windows were made of one-way glass. She sank back down beneath the bubbles anyway and had more peace of mind for when she did eventually decide to exit the bath.

She was so relaxed and so… alone. She was never really alone like this anymore — not since she’d walked away from the Order. This level of solitude and comfort didn’t exist in the Jedi Temple. Maybe house sitting wasn’t all as bad as she’d predicted. Maybe some types of loneliness weren’t so bad.

One of her hands drifted downward to the bone of her hip, the contact making her jolt. It had been quite a while since this kind of touch had been there. She sighed. Ahsoka was reminded of the fingers that last touched her like this — fingers that hadn’t been her own.

Rex had delicately taken hold of her here, his other hand on her left hip, as he’d thrusted into her aching center and pressed hot kisses to her neck. She remembered the way small bruises had peppered her skin the next morning and the sounds he’d made in her montrals.

A soft moan vibrated on her lips and she gave a breathy laugh at herself.

Her core fluttered, squeezing around nothing but a memory. Everything that had transpired between them on Mandalore, the journey there, the journey back… all of it had led to a stolen rendezvous in the Tribunal after it had been stationed back on Coruscant.

They’d delivered Maul to the Temple and stopped by the barracks to check on the men. Rex had insisted on accompanying her to the Venator shipyard to do a round of inspection after the inspection team had finished — after the lights had half gone out and suspiciously way after hours.

For what seemed like a split second of a rip in the seam of time, neither one of them had a responsibility to their titles.

She was a citizen and so was Rex.

There was no rank, there was no war, there was no Captain, or Commander, or Jedi, or advisor — there was only what they had for one another. There was only the resolution of so much charged banter. There were only them in the General’s quarters on the Tribunal. Only them on Coruscant. Only them in the galaxy.

Ahsoka felt the sting on her lips as a gasp escaped her lungs, ragged as she circled her clit in the same, slow and torturous pace Rex had done. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before letting it go with a moan. The water around her had begun to ripple, now a product of the movements below the bubbles. She sank further into the water and threw her head back, recalling the drag of Rex’s thick cock between her thighs.

The sensation felt impossibly heightened.

Choking out another moan, Ahsoka bravely lifted one leg out of the bath and hooked it on the edge of the tub, giving herself more room to move and allowing her fingers to drift lower.

Rex fished the passkey to his former General’s apartment out of his pocket and waited for the light to flash green. The doors parted for him and closed softly as he stepped into the entryway.

It was notably odd being here alone without the usual hosts present and greeting party of astromech and the protocol droid. He almost welcomed the silence had it not been so eerie.

They could’ve left the lights on in the foyer at least.

When Skywalker had asked him to house sit, he’d raised an eyebrow but accepted nonetheless. What else was he supposed to do? Clones didn’t really celebrate the solstice. They celebrated everything and nothing and all of it with a drink in hand and a headache the next morning.

If bets were being taken, he’d put all his credits on the boys piling into 79s this week.

He hadn’t stayed with the GAR after the war had been won. And as much as he’d wanted to, he couldn’t allow himself to accept the permanent position of being Ahsoka’s Commander.

Being that close to her yet forbidden from being with her, would’ve been too heavy on the heart — not to mention dangerous for her, himself, and the men. So he left. Being a soldier was all he knew how to do and he regretted his choice every day. But it was necessary. He had to learn how to be something other than a clone, other than a soldier, and something other than a man in love with his superior.

Sighing, Rex tossed the passkey into the dish by the door and noticed that the spare one was missing. He stilled and slowed his breathing, checking a second time to confirm.

Skywalker had been specific. There were supposed to be two.

Reaching for the pistol strapped to his leg, Rex began making a sweep of the penthouse, aiming first for where most of the valuables would be residing. He took a left into the apartment and stalked towards the master bedroom, finding the door wide open. A glance around at the other doors told him this was indeed the right call — every other door was sealed.

His former General was still on speed dial. He could reach them if he needed, even if they wouldn’t do much good from Naboo.

Ahsoka was also still on speed dial as well.

Rex took a moment to glance down at the first button on his wrist comm. She was currently on leave if he wasn’t mistaken. A coil tightened in the center of his chest (maybe a little to the left). As war hardened as he was, the pain of losing her still cut deep. He ground his teeth.

They were adults. She’d come if he called.

No disturbances were coming from the main suite. The bed was made and tucked with droid-like precision. All of the drawers were closed and the curtains hung undisturbed. No glass or debris littered the floor. For a brief moment, Rex relaxed his grip on his blaster, but that was only until he saw the faint flicker of light coming from the crack in the ‘fresher door.

The lavender and gold doors flew open, ricocheting against the painted walls and chipping the lovely paint. His eyes were narrowed and brows furrowed as he scanned the refresher, not at all expecting to find lit candles in a dark room and a very naked Ahsoka in the largest bathtub he’s ever seen.

His eyebrows slowly rose upward in shock. Gone was the instinct of a soldier ready to strike.

She would’ve stopped it if she could, but it was far too late. Her eyes would’ve stayed squeezed shut had Rex not entered the room — the very image of what brought upon her orgasm was now standing directly across from her. She didn’t have to picture his fingers anymore. She could see them. His chest was heaving, his skin glowing, eyes reflecting the flicker of the candles, his pretty lips parted. Ahsoka was helpless but to choke out a moan, helpless to control the jolts of pleasure coursing throughout her body as she came, eyes locked with his as she came undone to the thought of him.

Three candles only provided so much visibility, but she didn’t need them to be able to tell that Rex had gone deeply red in the face.

He was frozen where he stood, unable to move, unable to divert his gaze. He’d only witnessed the climax of her pleasure for one night, engraved it into his memory, certain he’d never see it again. Yet here it was, here she was, legs trembling as she came right in front of him.

Ahsoka’s hands moved beneath the water, her arms following as she removed them from between her thighs. She was still holding eye contact with Rex, who began to notice that the only sound in the room was their combined, panting breaths. He’d been standing there, looking at her for far too long.

Discreetly, he stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets and adjusted himself, now looking anywhere but her and delayed in picking up on the scent of some recreational spice.

Chancing a look up to the small table next to the bath, he saw the pink dust. Perhaps her pupils were only dilated due to the drugs and not because of him. Ahsoka's head lolled against the side of the tub and Rex was all too aware that her eyes were still on him, watching him try to not watch her as she came down from just one of her highs.

Of all the things he’d been trained for, this certainly hadn’t made the list. He should leave. He should step out of the room and wait for her to be clothed. But his feet remained still. Stuck. What was he supposed to say now?

“I thought Jedi weren’t permitted the use of recreational spice,” he said, hearing his words tremble in his throat as he motioned towards the jar of dust.

Not the right thing to say. What are you doing? She’s in the bath. You need to leave.

Ahsoka giggled and looked at the spice and then back at him, pulling her one leg back into the water. He swallowed thickly. She licked her bottom lip, her mouth presumably very dry at this point. “The Jedi are quite different than you and I last remember,” she responded slowly, still laughing.

“Of all the rules they revised, I somehow doubt this was one of them,” he retorted, leaning against the marbled countertop and crossing his arms. You shouldn’t be in here.

Rex forced himself to push off the surface, to put a stop to this and not let himself grow comfortable here. Comfort was the furthest from what he was feeling, but something about Ahsoka made it feel so natural, even when it was anything but. In fact, it was most unnatural for a clone and a Jedi to be caught in this situation.

It was wrong before and it was still wrong now.

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”

His heart lodged itself in his throat.

She continued, sounding far away, “I thought it was bath crystals.”

He coughed and rubbed the back of his too hot neck, readying to take his fleeing steps from the room. Rex didn’t know what to do with his hands. At this moment at least. He absolutely knew what he’d be doing with them later, in the privacy of his own apartment and with an amount of guilt that would last him to the next solstice.

His disapproval of the drugs seemed to amuse her. She leaned forwards and crossed her arms, folding them under her chin on the edge of the bath, prompting him to cough again. Only the soap covered her chest, slipping between…

“Will you be able to get out?” Rex asked, clearing his throat and keeping his eyes fixed on the pink powder on the small table in front of her. If he didn’t, he’d be wholly incapable of keeping his eyes at appropriate levels.

Her confidence was… intoxicating. In this state, Ahsoka felt zero ounce of embarrassment from the act he’d just seen her complete.

Blinking lazily, she slipped a little on her knees and giggled. Well past her limit to exit the tub without injury, Rex concluded. He ground his teeth. Karking hells. Leaving the room alone certainly wasn’t in the question now. The soldier in him shifted into gear again, finding the towel that sober Ahsoka had set out for herself and thanking their makers that she’d done so. He stepped around the tub and held it up, letting the material unfold itself and shield her nudity from him. Rex put his back to the mirrors.

Ahsoka giggled again from the water as she bit on her lower lip, looking at Rex through half-lidded eyes.

Fuck.

Tearing his gaze away from her, Rex approached the edge of the porcelain tub and took great interest in the colorful tiles at his feet. The cool air coming from being near the windows told him he was sweating. “Can you stand?” he asked.

“I can try,” Ahsoka said, gripping the edges of the bath, wet fingers grazing Rex’s pants. He bit down on his tongue hard.

From what he could tell out of his peripheral vision, her movements were entirely uncoordinated — like a newborn kybuck walking for the first time. Taking a second to regain her land legs, Ahsoka rose with wobbly knees to her feet, the dripping of the water off of her body filling the room. Rex tried not to imagine it, he really did, the way the water traveled down her breasts and gathered by her navel. He tried not to imagine the shine and slip of her sienna skin, the water streaking down her torso and the swell of her ass, collecting there and trailing down her thighs.

It was an image he remembered all too well and an image concealed to him now only by a towel.

Yes, Rex remembered — all too painfully well. He was cursed to remember. The feel of her lips between his, her supple skin under his fingertips, the flutter of her eyes, the sounds passing over her tongue. He’d memorized the curve of her breasts, the taste of her kiss, the way her hands scratched along his scalp, the way she breathed his name, how slow they’d taken it at first, the way her cunt sucked him in and wrapped so tightly around him, how wet she’d been… and how they’d washed one another in the sonic after.

It was almost ironic that they meet like this now. Rex could’ve laughed if the memory hadn’t—

Ahsoka suddenly fell forward and took a frantic hold of the towel, thinking it would break her fall but pulling it from Rex’s grasp completely. It dropped to the floor in a heap and her hands scrambled for the next available thing, pulling him into her with two fistfuls of his white shirt. Reacting quickly, Rex’s arms shot out to both hold her close and prevent his own fall, placing one hand at the small of her bare back and the other on the lip of the tub.

But he was only successful at one of those attempts. His shins were flush against the bath and Ahsoka was flush against him, the soap in the water unwilling to allow her feet to grip the bottom. Finally slipping, Ahsoka took Rex along with her, yelping as they fell and the bubbles engulfed them.

Unscrewing his eyes, the first thing Rex saw were small heaps of bubbles falling around them and framing Ahsoka’s face. The warm water lapped at his neck, having soaked through his tee and trousers. He blew away the bubbles on his nose. Two lekku were draped on either side of his head and both of his hands were holding… holding her hips.

She’d either landed on top of him by sheer accident or he’d somehow managed to cradle her fall while they were going down. But the only thing he knew for certain was that a dark, hardened nipple had just grazed over his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, keenly aware of the twitch of his cock and the way Ahsoka’s hot core was seated against his belt.

He’d turned his head but seeing the white marks situated above her opening had been completely unavoidable. Heat seared across his face as though he’d been slapped.

Water continued to slosh around them and Rex tore his hands away from her naked frame, desperately trying to move in a way where she couldn’t feel the stiff erection in his pants. There’d be no tent and no hiding it. The water would allow Ahsoka to see and feel everything. His frantic reaction prompted her to leap into action, accidentally grinding herself against him in attempts to mend their situation and causing Rex’s hips to buck.

A moan was stifled in both of their throats and again he caught sight of the pretty white markings above her pussy, screwing his eyes shut to avoid a third. “Ahsoka,” he choked out, “Just follow my lead and I’ll get us out of here.”

What was left of the contents of the tub sloshed around them as Rex sat up. With his eyes closed, he reached out for her arms, which she gratefully offered to him so that he could pull them up together. Ahsoka swallowed, trying to wet her dry mouth, and found that looking down only made it dry up more. Rex was undeniably hard, the head of his thick cock outlined by his soaked pants.

A whine escaped her.

“Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” Rex asked.

“M’okay,” she squeaked, watching his boots as they left the tub. He cracked an eye open to look for the towel that had dropped, only to find that it too had been drenched.

He sighed and Ahsoka witnessed the flush occupying the shells of Rex’s ears. “Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed.

For the first time that evening, her heart leapt into her throat. Her senses were dulled and nowhere near the end of their fog, but this still made her insides flutter. Ahsoka did as she was asked, her eyes locked on Rex’s face as she hooked her hands behind him. Force, he looked as beautiful as ever.

She hadn’t seen him… hadn’t spoken with him since…

Rex’s hands connected with her hips again, lingering for a fraction of a second and not even giving her time to gasp before he bent and slotted an arm under her knees and one behind her back.

The small gasp fell past her lips as he lifted her up. Ahsoka looked past him and into the mirror behind them, witnessing the way his muscles rippled under his wet, white t-shirt. If her mouth wasn’t already dry, it surely was now. She giggled again to herself, kicking her feet in a girlish sort of way. It couldn’t be helped. Rex just made her feel so giddy and—

Ahsoka kicked the jar of spice onto the floor.

“Fuck me,” Rex sighed, defeated.

Pink dust swirled around them and they each coughed, his boots crunching the shards of glass now littered on the tiles. Ahsoka’s giggling ceased only for a moment before it started up again. She threw her head back in laughter as Rex walked them out of the room, shaking his head.

But Ahsoka saw the slight twitch in the right corner of his mouth.

His head was starting to feel light as he approached the guest bedroom. Ahsoka was humming and kicking her feet to whatever tune she had in her head. It almost sounded like a cheesy solstice carol, but Ahsoka was never one to hold the correct tune or even learn the proper words or melodies to songs. She was exceptional in everything she did — everything but singing.

It was like listening to a choir of porgs. No, actually, it was like a choir of porgs being grilled alive for solstice dinner.

And he loved her for it.

The lamps and holo tv cast a dim glow in the room and Rex was grateful. He nudged the switch for the fan with his shoulder, turning it off, and placed Ahsoka gently onto the mattress, feeling himself sway as he leaned down. She released her grip on his neck but her fingers lingered, trailing under his jaw and causing him to choke on a hiss.

His pants were already clinging to him and she was just making it worse.

He had to look up to the bed canopy to prevent his eyes from drifting any lower. The doors to her ‘fresher were open and he spotted a stack of towels, lifting himself off the mattress for it and grabbing up a fresh one. Switching the light off, he sighed.

He’d have to go back into the master ‘fresher and blow out all those candles Ahsoka had lit.

Placing the towel on the edge of the bed, he began the journey back down the hall. The less he looked at Ahsoka the better.

When he returned to the scene of the crime, the room was in a thin cloud of pink dust. One of the candles had already been put by their splash.

Rex pulled his shirt up over his nose so as to prevent any more inhalation and mopped up the puddle on the floor. By the looks of the painted walls, he doubted that Senator Amidala had ever intended to add a real lake to her Naboo themed refresher.

Quickly, he found proper cleaning supplies in a hall closet and erased the mess. It was like it had never happened.

He was blowing out the last candle, however, when he saw the remnants of the spice being sucked up into the vents. Of course this couldn’t be easy. If he didn’t turn off the entire system, it would spread throughout the apartment.

The walk back down the hall wasn’t as smooth as the first time around. His steps were noticeably less coordinated. As a soldier, it enraged him that he had no control over it. How much spice was safe to inhale in one sitting?

Ahsoka was shivering on the bed when he returned, toweling off her lekku and still stark naked. His dick twitched helplessly and he leaned into the wall.

“Rex,” Ahsoka slurred his name. He leaned further into the wall. She was looking down at her lekku. “I think the white is turning blue.”

“You’re not turning blue.”

“But—”

“I had to turn off the heat,” he explained, handing her one of the Senator’s robes.

She finally looked up at him and her lekku dropped back down to her chest. Her towel drifted down past her collarbones and Rex offered the housecoat more urgently.

Ahsoka pushed it aside, delighted amusement painting her face. “Rex, what are you wearing?”

“The same thing you’re about to be wearing,” he answered, “Take it.”

Orange fingers took the luxury housecoat and blue eyes went wide. “This is expensive,” her blown pupils tried to narrow, “Wait. If this one’s… Is that Anakin’s?”

Rex looked down to where Ahsoka was pointing. In the haze of shucking his wet clothes and pulling the robes on in the dark, he’d missed the monogram. Silver embroidery decorated the chest of the blue garment, reading in curly letters: Ani.

Karking hells.

He’d never seen Ahsoka laugh so hysterically. She fell onto her back with laughter, her face and lekku beginning to flush. Even Rex couldn’t keep a straight face this time. It looked ridiculous on him. He couldn’t tell if it was the spice, Ahsoka’s guffawing, or the image of General Skywalker wearing a fur lined, baby blue housecoat with his nickname on it that made him join her in hysterics.

Tears collected at the corners of Ahsoka’s eyes and somehow Rex was now face to face with her. Had he collapsed onto the bed in laughter? He couldn’t pick himself up or make himself stop long enough to answer. It felt like if he’d were to try and lift his head up that it would weigh thousands of pounds.

With his face smushed into the bed, their laughing slowly started to cease, turning into only a smile as they watched one another.

The towel was millimeters away from exposing Ahsoka’s breasts.

Rex reached for her forgotten housecoat and pulled it up for her to grab. “Put this on. It’s gonna get cold. I’ll call someone t’come fix it in the morning.”

Ahsoka nodded and opened the robe to access the arm holes. She got one in successfully and pulled the excess material over her chest to hunt for the other. She missed. And missed. And missed. And missed again.

“Rex,” she whined, “Help.”

Her plea broke him out of his daze of watching her, not even realizing she was struggling. Something about the way her back kept arching off the mattress made his cock slap against his stomach and he’d been lost in the motions.

His fingers didn’t feel like his own as he moved the robe around to find the other arm hole and hold it open for her. Ahsoka fit it inside and smiled in triumph, allowing Rex to lean over her to close the robe shut, tying it securely. The hands that didn’t feel like his own stayed motionless at her sides.

A lone orange finger roamed over his knuckles before Ahsoka turned to look out the window. The snow was falling harder.

Rex swallowed and pulled away, collapsing back into the bed at her side and looking in the other direction.

Why were all of his favorite, guilty pleasure treats on the nightstand?

“‘Soka?” he asked, his voice cracking.

She hummed.

“Did you do this?”

Turning to face him, her brow markings turned inward. “What d’you mean?”

He licked his lips. Now his mouth was dry. “I mean why are you here? Why are my favorite things on the night table? Why is that Shilian classic on the tv with the woman I said looks like you? Did you know I’d be here?”

The crease between her brows had deepened. “Rex, what are you talking about? I didn’t d—”

Her words trailed.

He—

No.

Oh, when he gets back!

“Anakin,” she breathed, shaking her head and staring up at the ceiling. “He thinks he’s so slick…”

“I’m confused,” Rex said slowly, propping himself up onto pillows that cost more than his life.

Ahsoka did the same, pressing her nose into the fuzz that lined the collar of her similarly monogrammed robe. “Did Anakin ask you to house sit while he was away?”

His features didn’t move. “Well, yeah, but—”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

She nodded to herself and laughed at seemingly nothing, that was, until Rex remembered the passkeys.

“That kriffing— He—”

Ahsoka finished for him, “Orchestrated this whole thing.” She definitely butchered the first word.

Rex looked at the opposite nightstand and found that their guess was confirmed. All of Ahsoka’s favorite treats were sitting atop it — everything he knew her to love. And the film. She’d said once that it was her childhood favorite.

He should be angry. He should be outraged at Skywalker and he ought to return his passkey to the bowl and leave her to house sit. This wasn’t a two person job, afterall.

But he didn’t move. If he did, it might take thousands of pounds of effort.

“When did he ask you?”

“Just before he left. I’d come to surprise them for dinner,” she answered, her voice less musical than before.

They sat in silence for a long while, neither of them paying any real attention to the holo drama. With no heat running, the apartment’s silence was loud. They could even hear the snow falling outside. Ahsoka pulled the towel over her to retain more warmth.

Rex reached for the nightstand and downed half of the bottle of water Anakin had presumably left for him. He was trying to focus on sobering up and not think about how he and Ahsoka had found themselves in a bed together. How could the Gener— Skywalker do this? All those countless dinners. He and Padmé both know how painful the subject of Ahsoka was for him.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke — so quiet that he thought it was part of the program playing on the holo tv at first.

“Why did you leave?”

The silence between them suddenly felt heavy, like it could weigh thousands of—

“You resigned without even telling me first,” she continued, glancing at him once, bravely, before turning back to the window.

She was hurting just as badly as he was.

Rex felt like that shattered jar of spice.

“I– I couldn’t serve with you anymore,” he choked out. “I couldn’t serve under a superior I’d slept with. You’d agreed to rejoin the Jedi and… it wouldn’t… it wouldn’t have been in the best interest of the men if I’d had sexual relations with—”

“Is that all it was to you?” Ahsoka cut him off, her voice louder and wavering. “Sexual relations?”

The pain in her voice sent a crack running straight through the largest vessel in his heart. “Ahsoka. Of course not.”

His eyes were still adamant not to focus but he fought against the high to train his gaze on her.

“Ahsoka, it’s all I’ve thought about since. It’s all I’ve thought about for months. I thought… I thought leaving the GAR was what you wanted me to do. At the time, it’s what I wanted to do too. We’d finally been given the choice, all of the clones, and I made mine. I couldn’t choose the Republic and choose you too. It wasn’t even in the question to have both. I’d be failing the men, failing my government, and failing you if I stayed. You don’t know how I’d dreamed of one day being your Commander, calling you General. I thought after Maul, that’s what we’d get. I knew Skywalker would transfer me to you permanently. But when we got back… we— we got so much more than that,” he paused, “And then it just…”

She sighed, her eyes glittering with tears threatening to spill. “And then it just didn’t happen.”

“Just once. That’s all we got,” Rex laughed at himself to avoid breaking down. “I’d never regretted a decision more. I should’ve let you inspect the Tribunal yourself. I shouldn’t have come into your quarters with you. I should’ve turned in at the barracks, kept the promotion, and served with you and the 332nd. At least, that way, I’d still be able to see you. Even if you only spoke to me because you had to, we’d still be near, and I’d still die for you even then — gladly. We should’ve gotten so much more than we did.”

Moodboard by @ventresses

Pent Up in the Skywalker Penthouse (Part Two)

#rexsoka #rexsoka fic #rexsoka monthly #october 2023: body heat #my fic #pent up in the skywalker penthouse #ahsokathegray

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petertingle-yipyip · 2 years ago

Text

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - Lavender Haze

tags: @americaarse @dusstory @ironprincessstranger @johnmurphys-sass @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // three // five // masterlist

Pairing: Matt x Livia, Dex x Livia

Word Count: 9,303

Summary: Betrayal and reunions. For Exodus, seems one can’t exist without the other. All relationships are tested when it all turns into something bigger.

You and Karen took a seat at one of the pews closest to the side door. You were waiting for either Sister Maggie or Father Lantom, knowing one of them would be the best bet to talk to about Matt. He knew at least one of them would’ve sworn everyone else to secrecy, but they would talk to you.

They were always willing to talk to you, but you never quite knew if it was for your sake or Matt’s.

The idea of seeing Matt again, inside a place you so frequently visited. To know he was right there the entire time, the thought let the red haze tease your vision. You dropped your head and closed your eyes and to anyone else, the sight would’ve looked like you were praying. Rather, you were trying to settle the sparking heat of anger that was urging you to take off your jacket.

“Sister Maggie?” Karen said suddenly, leaving your side and your attention snapped up. All remnants of the red gone.

“Can I help you?” She asked politely, but you seemed to steal her attention as you stood by Karen’s side. “Alivia... It’s nice to see you inside finally.”

You gave a polite smile in return.

“Still doesn’t smell like cinnamon but…” You gave a small shrug. “We were actually hoping that Matt Murdock was here.”

She shook her head slightly. “No, he’s not.”

“Right.” You said with a small nod. “I wasn’t so sure anyways.. Thank you.”

“Livia, wait.” Karen reached for you.

“No, it’s fine. I can do it without him. Just.. Text me where to go and I’ll handle it.”

“Alivia.” Sister Maggie called behind you.

“Thanks for your time, Sister. I’ll see you next time.”

“Will you wait for just a minute?” She insisted. You sighed heavily and cursed yourself mentally before you turned to face her. “It wears you out, doesn’t it? Trying to save him from himself.”

“Considering I’ve only seen him once and he didn’t really care to talk or explain anything, it’s not like he wants me around right now to begin with. And it’s funny when you think about it. He used to be the one trying to save me from myself … You know what he told me? That I’ve already mourned Matt Murdock so I shouldn’t care. How can he tell me I shouldn’t care?”

“When someone in need tries to push you away, you have to find the strength to hold on tighter… Everyone in Matthew’s life has abandoned him, even me. He needs someone who’ll stand by all his struggles and be there to pull him through on the other side. You have to keep pushing back, Alivia.”

“How can I do that when he won't come near me?” You shrugged with an exhausted sigh. “He’s intently visited everyone that mattered before Midland Circle except me.”

“You’re a smart and stubborn girl, Alivia. I’m sure you can find a way.”

Karen picked you up later that night. She refused to let you go alone so you climbed into the backseat with your duffel in hand. As she drove, you changed in the backseat. She told you what her plan was, for her to go in first as a buyer and make sure Evans was there. And even though you didn’t like the idea of her going in alone, you knew it’d be less dangerous than if you showed up in your mask. Instead, you found a decent vantage point to watch her go in after slipping one of your comms mics into her pocket, then you clicked your mask and implant to watch her venture inside.

The hand on your shoulder was the only thing that took your focus away.

You instantly dropped to the ground. Sweeping their legs from under them, you yanked one of the knives from your belt and raised it above your head to throw. When you turned to find a target, you found Matt laying on his back with hands up in surrender.

“Тебе повезло, что я тебя не убил. Опять же.” You groaned and bit the blade as you hauled Matt up. (You’re lucky I didn’t kill you. Again.)

“Yeah, missed you too, Livia.” He said with a small smile.

“Sure doesn’t seem that way.” You mumbled. “Besides, that’s not what I said.” You rolled your eyes and flipped your knife idly before tucking it away.

“I know.”

“You do understand that we still need to talk. Right? About all of it. You owe me that much.”

Before he could answer, you heard a male voice in your head. Listening carefully, you heard Karen say his name and a tight, almost threatening response.

You hurried into the room with Matt on your heels. You got to the room just in time as Karen threw an elbow at the person behind her. You yanked the man you assumed was Jasper by his shirt collar and threw him into Matt.

Two more men came after you two so you ran at the first one. You slammed into him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as something to hold on. You kicked out hard at the second one’s chest and used the movement to throw your legs back and your torso forward to slam the first man to his back. As you stood, one of the men went to get up so you threw a knee against his temple and he fell flat. You looked over at Karen, who offered a silent nod that she was okay.

“You knew his last known address and that he’d probably be here.” Karen said to Matt. “What were you waiting for?”

He turned his head to you but you scoffed slightly and crossed your arms. Either he was waiting for you to say something or you were what he was waiting for.

“You knew we’d come?” She kept going.

“I’d hoped.” Matt answered.

“But you couldn’t have come to me?” You said angrily. You moved to Matt, still knelt by Jasper’s side, and forced your foot against his chest, pushing him to his back and leaning your weight forward to keep him down. “You didn’t want to just talk to me?”

“I didn’t know if I could get to you.” He tried but you leaned forward more and he groaned slightly.

“I may not read heartbeats but I know when you’re full of shit.”

“How was I supposed to try? When Fisk has the FBI in his pocket.”

“Because we live together!” You said angrily. “Because I never was! Because I was at that goddamn church every day!”

“He could’ve had eyes on you the whole time. How was I supposed to know?”

“You never even tried!” Your voice broke as you yelled.

You felt a hand on your arm and turned quickly, only to see Karen with a concerned expression. Her eyes darted between yours and you knew by the colors lurking in your peripherals that your eyes were reflecting that bright, hot red. You gave in and let her pull you off Matt but once you were clear, you turned and slammed your fist through a nearby picture frame.

“I’ll help you, but after that, you need to help me and Foggy. The FBI is all over us and-“ Karen tried to explain quickly but you could feel her worry for you.

“You want me to turn myself in.” Matt cut in as he stood, rubbing the spot on his chest where your weight had been. You knew it didn’t hurt him. He was still built too well for just your weight to hurt.

“You talk to Foggy?”

“No, but it’s the smart move.. Sure, I’ll do it. I’ll turn myself in.” He turned towards you. “To you.”

“What?” Your brows raised quickly and you pushed your mask to the top of your head as if you wanted him to fully see your expression. “I’m not supposed to be involved with your investigation. It’s the one conflict of interest I can’t get around.”

“I won’t do it if I’m not turning myself in to you.” He said simply.

“They find out I’m anywhere near you and I’m done. Everything I’m working on is thrown away.”

“I thought you were an elite spy?” He tried to joke.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if you turn yourself in to me, I would still have to hand you over to Ray. It’s not my case.”

“Wait, what if they’ve figured out you’re… you?” Karen tried.

“Ray would’ve been hassling me a little more to figure out me if he knew anything.” You waved a hand, wincing as you felt the small glass shards shifting in your knuckles. Matt made a move for your hand but you crossed your arms, unintentionally pushing the broken pieces deeper into your skin.

“The mask doesn’t do me any good if I'm a wanted man either way.” Matt shrugged. “Besides, if the FBI figures out who I am, maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll lock me up next to Fisk.”

“Да, хороший пентхаус в президентском доме для Кухня дьявола ада.” You snorted to yourself and Matt chuckled. (Yeah, a nice penthouse at the Presidential for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.)

“Foggy said you were different, that you had changed. I thought it was bullshit but..”

“You’re acting a lot like me, Devil Boy.” You warned as you repositioned your mask. “Remember when I told you that you were gonna become just like the one person you didn’t wanna be?”

“Whatever.” He scoffed and you had the desire to kick him in his teeth. “We can’t take his statement here. Fisk’s lawyers will say it was coerced.”

“We’ll take him to the Bulletin.” Karen answered. “We get him on record in front of witnesses.. Besides, my editor is gonna wanna hear all this with his own ears.”

Matt yanked Jasper up and threw him into a nearby chair. You collected a bright yellow ball of fear in your palm and pushed it into his chest, watching him jerk awake in sudden terror. He moved to get out of the chair but you shoved a foot against his chest and forced him back. You held that position, leaning your weight forward as Matt came to your side.

“It’s your lucky day. We’re gonna give you a choice.” Matt began. “Option one- I call the FBI and Fisk has you killed before you can tell ‘em how you got out of prison.”

“Trust me when I tell you that Fisk will be able to reach you, even from his penthouse.” You threatened, your accent tinting your voice as you leaned away. “Even with the FBI watching him.”

“Option two- you tell this nice reporter the truth about what you did for Fisk and I’ll let you run someplace Fisk will never find you.”

“I can’t.” Jasper shook his head.

“Cool. Option one.” Matt shrugged and made a move but you shot your arm out to stop him. You shot him a pointed look and he simply pressed his lips together in a line.

“If I talk, Fisk kills my son!” Jasper panicked. “We had a good life before the neighborhood went down and I got myself put away… Left my son without a father and this is what he does with his life.”

“What makes you think Fisk would need you to talk to kill either of you?” You countered simply. “If that man feels even the slightest bit threatened by what you know, he won’t hesitate to kill you both.”

“If Fisk stays out of prison, a lot of innocent people are gonna die.” Karen said, a dark tone in her words. “So you can either tell my paper the truth and we let you and your son run far away or you can go back to prison and I print the story like you talked anyway.”

“You would lie and get us both killed?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, she’s pretty well protected.” You gestured to yourself and Matt. “The way I see it, you are the one that needs our help.”

“If you three hadnt-“

“Shut up.” You groaned and leaned away, moving your foot off his chest. “What if I can guarantee your son gets out of town before anything happens?” You offered and you felt his panic slowly drop as he looked at you with wide eyes. “People in this town owe me some favors so I can have your son out of town tonight and you can follow right after you’re done. New names, new lives in a new place.”

“You would do that?” He asked gently. “I thought you didn’t give chances.”

“I’m not doing it for you.” You said honestly. “It’s a limited time offer that I will not extend again. I have no problem putting a bullet in your head if you back out or you take too long. Do we have a deal or not?”

The next morning, you and Foggy sat in the conference room as you waited for Ray. Your foot tapped quickly under the table and all you could think while Foggy and Ray talked was how different Matt really was. He was so much darker, so lost in his own head. You’d never seen him so miserable. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, whether he said it out loud or not, that thick slime of misery trailed behind him like footprints.

It was like he had forgotten everything about who he was.

Did you do that? Had your influence broken him?

No, you had been apart too long. There’s no way it was your fault.

“My client’s ready to submit to questioning.” Foggy explained before turning to you. “Under the condition that she’s the one to bring him in and is present during all interrogations.”

“She’s not allowed on this case.” Ray countered easily. “Conflict of interest.”

“I have a witness lined up that can help provide information on Mr. Murdock’s innocence.” You said honestly.

“Sounds like I’m being jerked around, Yersova.” Ray sighed. “You know you’re not supposed to be anywhere near this. I tell Hattley and you’re done.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“It’s too personal for you, Livia”

“It’s less about Murdock and more so about getting Fisk locked up again. I will hand Murdock over to you immediately, I swear. As long as he gets into your custody, does it really matter who he turns himself in to? I’m just there for the witness statement. Anything else that happens is out of my control. Besides, I’m the only one he knows isn’t playing Fisk’s games. I’m the only one at this bureau he trusts. Why not capitalize on that while you can?”

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah, it’s a running theme with me. Are we doing this or not? Cause if Murdock gets away, when he’s literally being handed over to you, that’s not on me. I’m sure Hattley will have a field day with that.”

With a heavy sigh and realizing you had him in a corner, Ray agreed. A weight lifted off your chest but a new one settled on your shoulders. While you made good on your end with Jasper, having called Natasha and asked her to help get some ducks in a row so the kid was out of town before the prior night ended, you were now worried about taking his statement. Fisk had to have eyes on Jasper to ensure something like that didn’t happen, that he didn’t open his mouth.

You knew something was coming. As someone who grew up knee deep in the blood of people who didn’t keep their mouths shut, you’d be lucky if you got two words out of Jasper before a bullet shut him up for good. Especially if a certain FBI SWAT sniper was involved.

Having returned to his hidden dwelling under his church, Matt was conversing with Sister Maggie and thinking. Every time he had spoken to Y/N since his return from the dead, it hasn’t been from him reaching out. It had been a matter of circumstance. But that didn’t stop one of her sentences from bouncing around his brain.

You never even tried!

The apartment was closer than the basement after he got out of the river. Karen brought her along when they confronted Jasper Evans. As far as Matt could control and despite the way it hurt, he wanted to keep her away. He didn’t try to reach her. In fact, he actively tried to stay away from her. Because he knew, no matter what was going on or who was trying to kill him or arrest him, he wouldn’t want to leave her side again once he returned.

Her life was going great without him, for the most part at least from what he understood. Whoever she was sleeping with. Her position at the FBI. No one trying to kill her. No secret to keep. Friends who cared about her. She had almost everything she ever wanted, everything she deserved.

Though, and he couldn’t admit it out loud, he was hoping there was still a part of her that wanted him.

Admittedly, he noticed something different in her demeanor. Something darker, empty. She didn’t feel quite the same but maybe that was due more to the change in Matt than her. Or that was a result of processing the grief and trauma from Midland Circle on her own.

As caring as Foggy and Karen could be, they just wouldn’t get it. The only person that probably would was Frank, and neither of them had heard from him in a while.

Despite it all, despite the protests in his head and all logic he had left, he wanted to be with her again. To feel her touch against his skin, more than while she beat on him - though he’d admit he deserved it. He wanted her sleepy voice, muttering some old song or just talking about whatever thought she had.

What he wouldn’t give to have his Livia back.

“This have anything to do with a certain fiery one with a couple scars that visits us?” Maggie teased with a knowing smile.

“Alivia.” He said her name softly, like a secret only he knew. He smiled as he thought of her, coming all the way inside a place she didn’t care for just for him. “Yeah.. I’m meeting her.”

“She’s lovely. Temperamental, but lovely.”

“She is.” He chuckled lightly.

“She knows you’re Daredevil.”

“She does. Took a while of her fighting beside me for her to figure it out but….”

“But she sticks around? Sounds like a keeper.”

Matt couldn’t hide the grin.

“Yeah, she’s… She’s definitely more than a friend.” He agreed. “I really do love her.”

“Nice to hear you used the f-word and the l-word.” Maggie continued with a smile. “And to see you reconnecting.”

“No, we’re not..” He tried to explain but the wrenching feeling of his chest cut the words off. He had to remind himself to keep distance, to make it easier on Y/N. “She’s just helping me… I gotta turn myself in to the FBI and Livia is the only one I can trust.”

“Trust?” She nodded in thought. “Trusting someone usually means you care.”

“I do.” He agreed sadly. “I care about her more than anyone but.. I can’t just waltz back into her life like nothing happened. She wants answers and I can’t give them to her.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I can’t give her the answers she deserves.” He clarified before he cleared his throat, hoping to clear the growing tightness, and redirected the conversation. “I’ve been falsely accused. Gotta clear my name.”

“You mean Matt Murdock’s name.. If you’re leaving him behind, what does it matter?”

“My life is complicated enough without being a wanted fugitive… Besides if they look too deep, they’ll figure out me and then they figure out Livvy. I’m doing this to protect her.”

It had always been to protect Livia.

“Livvy…” She smiled slightly, seemingly proud of what she heard. “Careful, Matthew. Someone might think you’re still a bit soft under that hard exterior.” She joked lightly as she left.

Something about the day felt off as you sorted the duffel from your trunk. It was a looming anxiety and it wasn’t coming from you. It was stemming from a distant source. Lonely. Cold. Afraid. Panicked. It was the feeling of someone who had lost everything, who was at the end of their rope. Teetering the ledge, willing to plummet rather than be saved.

It sent a shiver down your spine but you pushed the sensations away to focus on the task at hand.

You doubted you’d have time to change into the full suit, so that and your pack, you left in the bag. You had access to a mask and a pair of Bites in your glove box. Under your shirt, you wore the discreet vest and fit your holster with one of your own guns, rather than your bureau issued piece. Your badge was in your jacket pocket and two knives sat at your back, tucked safely into your waistband. You slipped a couple discs into one boot and a smoke bomb into the other. Satisfied with your simple collection of gear, you grabbed your bag and headed to pick up Foggy.

“How do you feel?” He asked as you drove with the radio low.

“He hasn’t explained shit to me.” You said simply. “He’s avoided every real chance at a conversation and he’s definitely different.. He reminds me a lot of myself and I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just give him some time. You are probably the one person that he can’t hide from for long.”

“It took him how long to admit to me he was Daredevil?”

“And it took how long for you to admit you were Exodus?”

“Are.”

“What?”

“I am Exodus.” You turned to him at a red light. “She’s not just gone because I don’t wear the suit as much.”

“Regardless.” Foggy said carefully, taken back by your words.

The determination was easy to recognize. There was no mistaking your intent. Exodus would never be the past for you, and the time without Matt - the way you let that side of yourself handle the fallout from Billy - was more than enough to recognize that you were more the vigilante than anything.

“Matt’s not a criminal.” He continued as you drove. “FBI won’t have anything and it’ll expose Fisk. We all win.”

“Once this all blows over, I don’t think I’ll keep this job much longer.” You confessed.

“I thought you liked the FBI.”

“I do but it seems like.. Every path I take, I end up in the same situations. I always end up in a fight that puts the people in my life at risk… I don’t know, maybe it’s better if I take off again. Keeps everyone safe.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to leave again.” Foggy said simply. “I’m still trying to get Matt back. You can’t leave.”

“Fog, c’mon.” You tried as you parked. “I have no place in the world.”

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “You don’t get to go anywhere. Your place is here, with me and Karen and Matt. End of story.”

You smiled slightly as you got out of the car. Despite everything, your own lies and secrets and selfish behaviors, Foggy refused to turn his back on you. Nearly everyone had abandoned you, some you admittedly turned your back on first but still. No matter how hard you pushed, Foggy pushed right back into his spot.

That’s why he was your best friend.

You two walked into the Bulletin and the Foggy found Matt before you did. You stopped at the end of the hall and felt your heart jump to your throat. You felt Foggy’s hand on your elbow and you glanced over, catching his concerned expression.

“You okay?” He said softly.

“Yeah, uh.” You nodded and gathered yourself. “I’m just gonna call and check in with Ray.”

“Livia.” He gave a small frown.

“It’s not like he’s gonna talk to me anyway.” You offered a sad smile. “Sooner this gets done, the better it’s gonna be for everyone.”

“Sooner you talk to him, the better it’s gonna be for you.” He softly insisted.

You let out a sigh and watched Matt’s head turn. His eyebrows raised slightly and you knew he was listening to you. Your heart rate or breathing. Maybe he was listening for your voice. Either way, you gave him nothing. Your pulse and breathing were as steady as ever while you quietly left to another room. You felt Foggy’s demeanor fall as he went to sit with Matt.

Your conversation with Ray was short and sweet. It was clear that he wanted some sort of confirmation that you had Matt and Jasper, but you gave him neither simply for the fact that you couldn’t guarantee who was listening on his end. All you asked for was confirmation that his team was en route and that was exactly what you got.

Their conversation suddenly fell when you got back.

“Ray’s getting his team together. They should be here in less than ten.” You said simply, standing behind Foggy’s chair.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Foggy tried.

“You sure this FBI agent can be trusted?” Matt turned his head to you.

“He just wants the truth.” You said honestly. “He’s a good guy as far as I can tell.”

“Then yeah, I’m sure.” He nodded.

“Livia.” Foggy turned. “Say something.”

“He knows.” You looked to Matt, shutting down the sharp pang in the center of your chest. “He saw everything at the prison. That’s why you’re under investigation, why he put a spotlight on you.”

“Are you?” He asked, a worry in his tone that he tried to push away. “Under investigation.”

“Not yet, but I’m sure the SAC is looking for a reason.”

“Livia…”

“Matt.” You said sharply, maybe sharper than intended, but that didn’t seem to bother him.

He smiled slightly but the expression quickly fell away.

“What happened?”

“You mean how you died?.” You said flatly. “Well you pretended to at least. Or did you mean after that?”

“You know what I meant.”

“And yet you still don’t get it. Death doesn’t happen to you. You’re not the one dealing with the fallout. Death happens to everyone around you, to the people left standing in the rubble of that building wondering how the hell are they supposed to go on without you. And your death happened to the people that couldn’t even talk about it.”

“You’re right..”

“Don’t just agree with me.” You said angrily. “Argue with me. Defend yourself.”

“You wanna have an argument in the middle of the Bulletin?” His brows raised in accusation.

“I want you to show that you give a shit. I want you to acknowledge the fact that you don’t care about getting hurt, and you sure as hell don’t care when it hurts someone else.”

“You know I didn’t want to hurt you, Livvy.”

“But you did.”

“If there was another way, I would’ve-“

“There was.” You cut in sharply. “You could’ve left when everyone else did.. No one was recovered from the rubble because they couldn’t get deep enough. So as far as I’m concerned, there was no way out and you made it by some grace of your God. You didn’t have to stay down but you did. But you won’t admit that you were wrong.”

“At the time, I thought-“

“So where have you been?” You cut in again, not wanting to hear an excuse. “It’s been a very long time since you’ve been home, Matthew.”

“I thought you’d be safe.”

“So you were trying to protect me?” You laughed.

“I’ve always tried to protect you.”

“Well you didn’t. You left. You left like I was never a reason for you to stay.” You felt the sting in your chest grow sharper, begging for the attention that you weren’t giving it. Instead, it manifested as a waver in your voice as he stood and made a move around to come around Foggy’s chair.. “You left and I just let you. So really, it doesn’t matter how we choose to remember what happened between us. Because I know two things. One, that I was good and I loved you. And two, it just wasn’t enough.”

“Livia, you’ve always been enough.” Matt tried but something over his shoulder caught his attention.

A wave of panic washed over you, disappearing as suddenly as it came, so you took a few steps to try and see something. Along with the panic you felt an empty sadistic pride, pride in the pain caused and a complete lack of empathy. What really worried you was the familiarity of that lack of empathy.

“Matty?” You tried, looking down the hall to where that feeling came from.

“Screaming.” He said simply, moments before the light cut off.

“Он сломал его..” You said to yourself, realizing your fake offer to help Fisk wasn’t needed and that’s why he didn’t take it when you offered. (He broke him.)

“What?” Foggy jumped up. “What does that mean?”

“It means that this just went from bad to worse. Get to Karen, get as many people as you can, and get out of here.”

“Go help him. I’ll handle this.” Matt said, trying to push you to follow Foggy.

“Not a chance.” You pushed him off. “You can't handle this on your own. Trust me.”

Matt grabbed your arm and gave a small squeeze, feeling for the usual material of your vigilante top.

“You’re not dressed for this.” He said lowly as you yanked your arm away.

“Neither are you.” You countered in the same quiet tone as you pressed against his abdomen, revealing not the hard pad of his suit, but the firm feeling of his muscles. He gave a small groan when your hand hit a still healing wound. “Unless the Devil suddenly fights in a suit and tie.”

“Livia.” He tried.

“You’re gonna need me.” You said simply. “Keep him busy till I get there. And try not to die.”

You hurried out to your car, striping out of your FBI jacket and button-up. You threw the clothes in the back seat which left you in your vest from Melvin, your under arm holster, and a short sleeve black workout top underneath it all. You grabbed the mask and Bites from your glovebox. You hesitated at the Bites when you realized that the brace was too easy to recognize.

It was meant to absorb kickback from pulling a trigger and impact from hits, but if it truly was Dex, he would know it was you. It left your wrist vulnerable but you couldn’t risk it. You noticed your gym bag was still on the floor of your backseat. You dug through it for your wraps and quickly secured them into place, You threw the brace in the back with your clothes and fit the mask to your face before rushing back into the building as you slipped the Bites over the wraps.

You threw the door open to the office space Karen was supposed to be when you saw him. Across the room, a familiar frame was sporting a very familiar look. He slowly turned to face you and it felt as if all the blood in your body drained out.

You expected to stand against Dex. From the second you knew Fisk wanted him, you didn’t have high hopes that you could keep him on your side. The man was a ticking time bomb from the start, and without you to keep the timer from running, it was a matter of time before you two were opposing forces.

But the fact that he wore Matt’s suit was what made you stop in your tracks.

“Thought you were dead.” You called across the room, watching his head tilt as your accent laced your words. “Been a long time, Red. I was starting to get lonely. Where’ve you been?”

He said nothing as the door was thrown open behind you. You watched as Dex smirked and pulled his arm back, a baton in hand. He launched the weapon across the room and you were quick to step in front of whoever came in after you, arms up to block your face as you braced for the impact. But the impact never came.

Lowering your arms, you saw the baton was caught by Matt. You released a small breath of relief before you shoved Foggy away. While the two boys were locked on each other, you took the chance to find a new angle.

You knew Dex was always better at a distance. He was strong but ricochets and projectiles were his strong suits. All you had to do was get in close. You were fast and precise enough that he shouldn’t be able to touch you for a while but the new problem was that Matt was in the mix.

Once there was an opening, you moved in. Matt had hit Dex hard enough to have him stagger back so you attacked from behind. You used the desk as footing and jumped off, hooking an arm around his neck as you swung yourself over his shoulder. Your fingers had closed around the material of the suit and yanked him with you, your momentum strong enough to throw him to his back. You landed on your knees and so you spun yourself and saw him pushing himself up to his elbows.

You planted both hands flat against the ground and kicked out sharply, slamming both heels against the side of his head. Once he hit the floor again, you pushed yourself through a backwards tumble and pulled a knife from your belt.

Dex turned to you and you could feel the anger from his glare. You offered a wink, which only seemed to piss him off more, before moving in first. You swiped for a familiar gap in the suit but he caught your wrist while his foot kicked out the back of your knee. He forced you to the ground and twisted your arm outward. You let out a yelp before dropping the knife to your other hand and slicing upwards, catching a space between the plates of his arm.

He dropped his hold which let you fall to the floor. Matt helped you to your feet and put his hands on either side of your head. You nodded quietly and waved away his concern so he could take over the fight.

You moved out of sight, pressing your back against the side of a desk while holding your blade between your teeth as you rubbed the aching joint. You shook your head quickly, collecting yourself enough to let your anger take control. You felt it burn through your veins instead and you rolled your shoulders to break it up before turning to peek over the desk and see what the boys were up to. Matt had knocked Dex down and you took your shot.

You slid across the top of the desk and hooked your ankles around Dex’s neck. His hands landed on your hips as he lifted you so he could slam you back against the desk. You coughed roughly but kept your hold, jamming your Bite against the exposed skin of his neck. He fell to his back, but with your ankles still locked, you were dragged down too.

You landed on top of him so you twisted your hips and leaned a knee against his throat. You freed the other foot and planted it beside his head for balance. You grabbed either arm and held them outwards, leaving him struggling under your weight.

His flailing was slowing when you were tackled off. You two rolled for a minute before Matt was on top of you.

“The hell is your problem?” You angrily pushed him off.

“You don’t even know this guy.” He reasoned breathlessly.

“You think that’ll make a difference to him? I wasn’t even gonna kill him.” You scoffed and turned to find Dex. “Yet.”

As soon as you did, you barely had a second to get your arms up. The butt end of a baton slammed into your forearms, forcing your own limbs against your face. You staggered back into Matt and you tasted blood in your mouth from how the impact slammed your teeth together hard enough to catch a piece of your cheek.

Dex slammed into you, tackling you into Matt and knocking air out of your lungs. Your head smacked the desk before you rolled over it and you could see Dex’s feet on the other side when you landed. You twisted and kicked the edge of the desk to hit Dex in the stomach.

You crawled under it and between his legs before he could stand fully. You reached under and hooked your fingers around the holster strap. You yanked him down and turned to get your feet against the ground. You pushed backwards and as you were rolling, you shifted your arms to grab his. You fell back and flattened his arm before kneeling on it. With a sharp red glow at your Bite, you lifted the weapon to fire.

You heard Matt getting closer so you lifted your other wrist to ensure he wouldn’t stop you again. Opting for a blue glow against your newly returned partner, you fired both weapons at either man. You hurried back to your feet, punctuating your success against Dex with a swift kick to his jaw, before you made a beeline for where you saw Foggy go in.

When you heard the slam of metal on metal above you, you turned and saw the light fixture coming down. You dropped to a knee and lifted your arms, wincing slightly as the spark scattered across your exposed arms and the corner of the metal scraped your forehead.

You grabbed the metal frame and turned back, seeing Dex giving you a proud smirk as he came around the nearest desk and grabbed a handful of things from the organizer. He kept eye contact with you as he flung them at Matt, who had just made it behind an overturned desk. You gripped the frame tightly, jagged edges digging into your fingers. You rushed him quickly, momentarily distracting him from Matt. You swung the frame at him, knocking him to his back. He hurried to reach for your ankle but you jumped over, changing the grip on the frame to slam it downwards against his chest. His body jerked with the impact and he groaned as you dropped the metal on him. You made a face to yourself and moved to find Matt.

“You probably just pissed him off more.” He mumbled to you.

You gave a quick shrug and waved him off. You heard Dex yank something off a desk but Matt turned the corner to steal his attention before you could. You shook your head in disappointment as Matt was launched into the desk behind him so you went the other way.

While Matt and Dex were playing a cat and mouse game, your fingers slipped into your boot for the smoke bomb. You’d be able to see through it with your mask. You figured Matt would be fine, considering you’d seen him fight through worse. Dex was the one you needed it to be an issue for and if your train of thought was right, it would be. You moved the device into your front pocket as you crept through the office space to get to the room.

You stopped when you heard the clatter. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw a shelving unit on top of Matt and Dex slammed his boot down to knock him out.

You looked between a now-unconscious Matt with scissors sticking out of his chest and the door to your friends. Your hands began to shake slightly as you felt that familiar heat of rage crawling up your spine. You tapped your mask to see through the door, finding there was something blocking it along with four bodies huddled in the corner. With a sigh, you stood in front of the door and faced Dex again.

They’d be alright as long as you kept him focused on you, so you took all of Dex’s rage and enjoyment from the prior events and redirected it to be focused solely on you.

“Finally… You learned how to have a little fun.” You spoke simply to egg him on, slipping a hand behind you for a knife - realizing you had dropped your other one - as you feigned ignorance. “What happened to you?”

He answered with a quiet chuckle.

“What now? You try to kill me too? Is that how you treat the woman you love?” You toyed with a pout.

His head cocked to the side before a smile took over. You realized then that Dex didn’t quite know the story of Exodus and Daredevil. Fisk clearly knew, willing to use it as leverage to break you at work. But he didn’t tell Dex everything. It made you wonder exactly how long Fisk planned on using Dex, because that was an easy man to snap.

Maybe you didn't need to break Dex for Fisk. Maybe you needed to break his trust in Fisk. And destroying trust seemed to be one of the things you did best.

You both heard the sirens at the same time and you let out a sign of relief. You had been so focused on keeping Dex away from Jasper and your friends, on ensuring Matt got out alive, you had forgotten that Ray and his team were on the way. All you had to do now was stall for a few more minutes so you left the knife where it sat at your back.

You reached into your pocket and threw the smoke bomb at Dex’s feet. Once the gray cloud erupted and your lenses adjusted, you pushed through it to slam your knee against his chest. The action forced him back against one of the temporary cubicle walls. He swung a left hook but you caught it, using it as stability to flip over and kick across his jaw. He swung a kick to your stomach as you landed but you spun to avoid it, meeting him with a roundhouse of your own that threw him to the closest desk.

You hurried around the desk as he was pushing himself up. You put your hands on the back of his head and dropped to a knee, slamming him back down. As you turned away, the edge of the desk jammed into your hip and you were knocked to the floor. You were quickly pinned under Dex’s body weight as one of his hands looped around the strap to your vest. The other landed hard jabs to your face, hits that you were barely able to squirm away from.

You began kicking your foot, trying to knock one of the shock discs out of your boot. You tucked your knees up and shook your foot, turning your head away from his hits in time to see the circular device slip out of your boot. You squeezed your knees together around his waist and threw yourself to the side to put you on top. You leaned and grabbed the disc quickly. You held the tech between your fingers while you pulled your wire between your hands. You pressed the wire against his throat and his hands came around your wrists in a panic.

He coughed and thrashed beneath you but that only made you press harder. You saw the drops of blood fall from your lips and land against the helmet, red on red to match the color of your vision. You pressed down harder and watched the dark bruise sprout across his throat.

His hands disappeared from your wrists and gripped the straps of your vest. He threw you over and you rolled until your side hit the edge of a cubicle wall. You groaned sharply as the impact vibrated through your old rib injury. You were getting to your hands and knees when a heavy kick slammed into your stomach, making you collapse again.

Another kick that knocked the air out of your lungs.

A third kick that made you cough sharply.

He threw a fourth kick but you turned to catch his foot. You yanked hard and he fell to his back. You slipped the disc under the top edge of your wrap near your knuckles and got up to a knee. Dex was making his way back to his feet so you used the cubicle as leverage to haul yourself up. Once Dex faced you, you threw your entire body weight into a hook that jammed the disc against his jaw. The shock jolted up your arm and you felt the joints throughout it lock up as Dex cried out. He fell to the floor with small convulsions as you felt yourself wobble slightly on your feet. You blinked hard and shook the vertigo away as your vision cleared of the manic haze.

You moved back to the door and as you were reaching for the handle, you heard a metallic clink just before you felt a sharp pain in your hip that caused you to cry out. Looking down, you saw your own discarded knife buried to the hilt at the bend of your leg. You fell against the wall, unable to support your own weight as Dex came over with a smug smirk. He used his foot to push you away from the door before breaking in.

You groaned loudly as you pressed your hand around the wound, moderately scared to try and take the blade out. Instead, you wobbled to your feet and used the door frame to hold yourself up just as you heard the gunshot. Your head snapped up and you saw Dex moving closer to Karen. You noticed a body on the floor from the corner of your eye. You turned slightly and realized it was Foggy. The sight made your knees buckle and you gripped the doorframe even tighter. Nudging the side of your mask with your shoulder, you gave it a second to load. You saw there was a heartbeat and you let out a soft sigh of relief. He was alive.

If he hadn’t been, you wouldn’t have hesitated to end Dex then and there.

“Hey!” You called out and his movements stopped, head turning slightly towards you. “You’ve gotta do better than that if you want me dead.”

“Hello, Karen. It’s nice to see you again.” Dex told her calmly and the sentence puzzled you.

Your moment’s confusion allowed him to get a hand around your throat and force you out the room, coughing and gagging as his grip grew tighter. You heard Karen calling for you but you took the concern she directed at you and moved it towards Matt, though you ensured there was enough fear in her to keep her from moving until you had Dex’s sole attention. Dex pulled you closer before slamming you into the wall behind you.

He forced you back again and again. You grabbed at his wrist and tried to push your Bites against his neck but he recognized it and slammed you before you could.

“I wasn’t gonna kill you.” He said lowly.

Head bouncing.

“But he said you would get in my way.”

Air forced out of your lungs.

“All for that guy.”

Back slamming.

“All because you love him.”

Rib burning.

“What happened? I thought you were gonna make this fun.”

He threw you to the floor and you coughed roughly, turning to the side to try and give yourself space to move while your throat burned .

His foot forced you to your back and he slammed it down on the Bite you were trying to aim, which so happened to be the one that needed the brace. You winced loudly and he reached down for the knife in your hip. Once his eyes left yours, you reached the other hand for the gun under your arm. You stole Frank’s old move that he used against Matt and pressed the gun against Dex’s forehead.

When you felt the blade move, you pulled the trigger. The loud bang reverberated through the otherwise quiet room, rivaling the sharp cry you released as the blade shifted back to its first position.

He fell off of you and you moved as best you could to Matt and Karen. You reached them and pushed both their heads down while Dex staggered out the room, holding his head and falling occasionally.

“Livia.” Matt mumbled, reaching for you.

“Yeah… I’m here.” You replied quietly, taking his hands in yours.

“Your leg.”

You offered a small smile, feeling some of your anger and pain melt into a soft sort of sadness. Almost like longing. “Your chest… Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

“Get out of here, okay?” You tried, looking towards the stairs and your lenses showing you Ray’s team coming. “I’ll find you when I can sneak away.”

“No.” He held your hand tighter, a desperation in his touch that made you soft - if only for a second. “No, I’m not- not leaving you.”

“Matt, you have to.” You brought his busted knuckles to your lips. Matt quickly put his hand at the side of your head, pushing his fingers into your hair, and pulled you to him to bring your lips to his. Behind your eyes, things turned a misty lavender when you felt Matt’s thumb running gentle patterns.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your lips. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Something deep in both your chests seem to snap.

“What about that guy?” Karen asked when you two separated, panic clear in her words.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You said simply, giving a determined tilt to your head.

“Livia.” Karen tried as you stood.

“Nadeem and his team are coming. Just hang tight till he gets here.” You patted her shoulder.

She reached for your hand but you pulled away. You hobbled to the stairwell and braced yourself as you yanked the knife out. A loud yelp left you before you gritted your teeth and forced your anger down, literally. You took the anger bubbling inside - anger at Dex for betraying you, at Matt for nearly getting himself killed, at Ray for not getting there in time, at Fisk for stealing your partner, at yourself for falling so far behind in Fisk’s game - and directed it down to your joint so the wound would heat itself while you wiped the blade against the exposed bottom of your shirt. The burning made you close your eyes tight and ground your teeth so hard you thought you’d break them. When your leg no longer stung, you pushed yourself up and kept going with your bloody knife gripped tight.

When you threw the door open, you saw Dex climbing the railing. You kicked Ray’s gun from his hand and slammed your shoulder into his chest to send him tumbling a few stairs, rendering him unable to follow or attack you, before vaulting yourself over the side. Both feet collided with Dex and you two tumbled down the stairs. When you two finally landed, with you on top with a knee against the center of his chest, you jammed your knife between the protections of his suit and he shouted loudly in pain.

“I’m leaving you alive to deliver a message.” You threatened, grabbing him by the chin to force him to look at you. “Tell your boss that I’m coming for him. And when I get to him, he’s as good as dead.”

“You’ll never get the chance.” He coughed.

You smiled slightly and twisted your knife, making him grab your hand in a panic.

“Try me.” You yanked your blade out and took off, hooking a wire around the bar before jumping the railing.

When your feet hit the ground, you flicked the wire to release it. You tucked it back into place and hurried back to your car, checking your surroundings before changing back into your original shirt and jacket. You wiped the blood off your hands and face as best you could and tucked your accessories under your seat before making your way back to the building.

You went right back up to the floor you left Karen on and found Ray in the room with her. Evans’ body was on the floor while two agents talked over him. An agent was checking on Ellison. Foggy was on Karen’s other side and Ray grabbed your arm to pull you aside. Your eyes didn’t leave your friends and they caught your gaze as you pulled. They both gave short nods that they were okay, but their concern for your well-being was more prevalent.

“Where the hell were you?” He asked tightly.

“Are they okay?” You asked instead, finally breaking eye contact to look at Ray. “My friends, Nelson and Page. Are they alright?”

He looked over his shoulder and sighed before facing you again. “Yeah, they’re fine. Nelson’s probably gonna have a black eye but other than that..”

“I was trying to help evac the lower floors while I waited for you.” You lied easily. “I couldn’t figure out what was going on and then- ” You gestured to the cut on your forehead.

”Ah shit. You good?” His eyes flicked between yours to gauge your awareness.

“Yeah, just knocked me down for a few seconds. I got up here as soon as I woke up. You see anything?”

“Yeah… Daredevil and his little girlfriend did this.”

“I saw a red suit but I thought I was hallucinating.” Your brows furrowed. “I would think those two would want Fisk locked up again more than anyone. This would’ve been the ticket to do it.”

“Maybe.” He nodded. “But how much you wanna bet they wanna be the ones to do it?”

“I doubt it matters who does it.” You made a face to yourself. “They don’t seem like the type that need the glory and the headlines.”

“I don’t think all of this was part of their plan. Not the girl’s at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cause she went after Daredevil. And not in a ‘my partner’s leaving me behind’ kind of way. It was like she was trying to take him down.”

“If Daredevil’s gone off the rails, she wouldn’t hesitate to stop him.” You agreed. “She’s probably the best qualified if we’re being honest. She can track him, contact him, and beat him better than any of us can.”

“Question now is why'd he snap.”

“If he snapped.”

“What do you mean?” His head tilted in interest. “You don’t think he’s lost it?”

“I’m from Hell’s Kitchen, right?” You explained and he nodded along. “I’ve seen this guy work. I’ve seen both of them work. This?” You gestured around. “This isn’t how they work. Not even the girl.”

“What are you trynna say?”

You glanced around, noted the puddles of blood from reporters. The trashed office scene. Pencils and pens stuck into the bottom of overturned desks. Shattered computer screens and fallen lights. Torn papers and loose cables. You sighed and turned back to Ray.

“I don’t know.” You lied. “But something doesn’t feel right about this.”

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