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thewritingrowlet · 29 days ago

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The Crazy Lesbians pt. 2, ft. tripleS Sohyun, Xinyu

same thumbnail because why not

tags: creampie, dp, anal, cunnilingus, (a bit of) domination play

length: 9k+

author's note: the company I'm working for paid for and sent me on a data science bootcamp, so I haven't had much time writing, but somehow I managed to finish this. Let me know what you think about this one.

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Sohyun was supposed to sleep in your bedroom with her girlfriend, but instead, she’s on the sofa, cuddling you through the night. Her limbs are wrapped around different parts of your body the same way yours are around her.

“Baby,” you softly call to her in a coarse, sleepy voice, “good morning.” Sohyun hums, still around 70% asleep if you were to guess. “I don’t know how much time I have left, but I love you.” “Huh? What are you talking about?” You give her pets on the back. “We’ll return to our lives soon, and we probably won’t get to do this again.” Sohyun lifts her head, looking at you with half-open eyes. “Are we not welcome in your place ever again?” “Of course you are,” you say. “Then there’s no need for such bullshit—especially not this early.” You peck the top of her head in apology. “I’m sorry for that, baby.”

Sohyun gathers her might and moves to lie square on your body. “Daddy,” she calls to you, “I love you.” You chuckle. “We’re not dropping the names?” She grunts. “Why? You don’t like it?” “Baby, c’mon,” you start stroking her back gently, “I was just playing—of course, I like it.” “Good,” she says, “because we’re not dropping it ever; it’s easier like this.” Also, to ensure “safety,” you ask her to remember to only say it in private settings, and she agrees to your request.

Sohyun asks you to check up on Xinyu, so you make your way to your bedroom. When you open the door, you see that Xinyu has her long limbs splayed all over the bed while her mouth is wide open. “Sweetie,” you slap her cheek lightly to get her attention, “good morning.” “Good—” A yawn interrupts her sentence. “Good morning, daddy.” “Are you ready to wake up, sweetie?” Xinyu opens her arms wide. “Carry me to mommy, please.”

You carry Xinyu like a koala and take her to Sohyun, who is still chilling on the sofa. “Mommy,” Xinyu calls to her, “good morning.” Sohyun laughs. “Now that we have someone to call daddy, it’s starting to feel like a small family—it’s just that we’re all the same age.” You lower Xinyu onto her mommy. “And we’re gay, and you’re our third wheel,” she adds.

“Not just that, but mommy, daddy, and baby have sex with each other; we are one problematic family,” you pile on the final punchline.

You arrive at your go-to breakfast spot with Sohyun and Xinyu for some toast and coffee, which are Sohyun’s favorite breakfast items.

“Changmin-ah,” she’s clever to not use the names outdoors, “what do you want to have?” “An iced latte, a peanut butter toast, and some dumplings, please.” After relaying your order to the staff, she turns her attention to Xinyu, who says that she’d like to have the same things Sohyun is having.

Sohyun joins you and Xinyu at the table after ordering for the crew. “Do we have anything to talk about?” Before speaking, you look around the establishment to check where people are—there are that two women near the door, a few tables away from you, and also that group of four close to them, so no one is going to hear your conversations.

“Alright, we’re safe,” you say, “how’s your ass, baby?” “Oh my God,” Xinyu reacts, “are you that curious?” “Well, yeah—it was your first time after all.” “Well, I loved it; it was painful at first, but my God was it hot.” Xinyu quickly covers her face in shyness. “You’re okay now, though, right?” Xinyu nods. “L-let’s talk about something else, please.”

A text from Sohyun seizes your attention. “Fuck my ass tonight, daddy,” the text says. “Baby, look at this,” you whisper as you show Xinyu your phone, “mommy is very naughty, don’t you think?” Xinyu covers her red face behind her palms. “S-she is, daddy,” she replies, “a-and it’s because of you.” You lean closer towards her. “Yeah? What do you think I should do to her, baby?” “Tie her down, daddy, and shove your cock into her holes,” she whispers to you, covering her face as she does so that Sohyun doesn’t catch it. There’s a naughty smirk on your face and one of similar nuance on Sohyun’s. You unlock your phone to reply to her text. “We’re going to have so much fun today, baby.”

Food arrives at your table, thus snapping you out of your nasty trance. “Well then, let’s eat, girls,” you say as you help the staff distribute food. You take a sip of your latte. “Mm, that’s good,” you say, “are you girls alright?” Xinyu nods enthusiastically at the taste of her toast and iced americano. Sohyun, on the other hand, is silent, seemingly detached from the situation. You reach for her hand that’s on the table and tap it gently. “Are you okay?” Sohyun smiles a bit and says that she just had some thoughts. “Pay attention to her, daddy; the last time she had some thoughts, we ended up in your bed,” Xinyu warns.

Nothing extraordinary happens during breakfast, as everyone was busy munching and sipping. “Are we ready to leave, then?” The two girls say they are, so you stand up and make your way out of the place with them (after paying, of course). “You can drive, can’t you?” Xinyu says she can, so you take a seat in the second row with Sohyun because you want to address whatever thoughts are clouding her mind—if she’d let you, that is.

“Sweetheart,” your voice is as gentle as intended, “would you like to talk about it?” Sohyun takes your hands in hers. “It’s my brother’s birthday, Changmin-ah, but we’re not on the best terms,” she starts. “I was just reminiscing our old relationship—you know, before I came out and all that.” “It’s difficult when it’s family, isn’t it?” She sighs. “It is, but at the same time, he’s a decent guy; at one point, it felt like he was concerned about my well-being more than his moral correctness,” she says.

You notice that Xinyu keeps stealing glances via the rear-view mirror, so you stick out your tongue playfully every time she looks at you to lighten the mood. You then turn your attention back to Sohyun. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that you’re fine and you’re loved, but if you want to do anything for your brother, let me know.” Sohyun shakes her head. “It’s fine, I’ll just let him be,” she says.

You take a seat on the sofa after extending it. “Daddy, can I use your computer? I have some assignments.” You see that Xinyu has her tablet in hand. “Sure, baby—password is 020202,” you say. While Xinyu makes her way to your bedroom to use the computer, Sohyun joins you on the sofa, and without saying a word, she cuddles you from the side.

“Hi, sweetie,” you give her a peck on the top of her head, “you want to watch something?” Sohyun says that she’ll watch whatever you put on, so you play this documentary video on Pallas’s cats that the documentary dubs as the Masters of the Plains.

“The great plains of Mongolia,” the narrator starts, “home to a surprising feline: the Pallas’s cat.” “Baby, look,” you point at the screen, which shows the small head of a Pallas’s cat behind some foliage. Sohyun giggles when a drone footage of a cat running across the vast plain is shown. “Where is the car going,” she quips. “It’s got places to be, babe,” you reply. She squeals and slaps your chest repeatedly when the video transitions to a shot of kittens running towards the camera. “Oh my God, this is going to be so much fun.”

Sohyun is quiet during the first few minutes of the documentary, and honestly, it’s reasonable; there is no Pallas’s cat to be seen yet. She giggles a little when a biologist pulls out a cat from its burrow and holds it in the air, putting into perspective the size of this friend-shaped predator. “Aww, look at the tummy,” she comments. She continues giggling when the cat, after being measured and released, starts sprinting away from the biologist and his crew.

You find yourself giggling with her as clips of the cat roaming around the snow-covered plains looking for prey are shown on screen—there’s something about the way the cat runs that you and Sohyun find cute. Eventually, in its exhausted state, the cat plops down onto the snow while its gaze is aimed at the camera rather comedically. The biologist from earlier says that lying flat on the ground is one of the cat’s defensive mechanisms, as it allows it to blend with the background. “Yeah, I don’t know about that—I mean, that brown fur is perfectly visible in the snow,” you say. “Yeah, well, you’re not part of the diet,” she counters.

A timelapse of a Pallas’s cat hiding from its predators by lying still, its face covered in snow, and occasionally sticking its tongue out makes Sohyun’s giggles become louder. “Oh my God, look at that kitty,” she points at the screen, “that must be cold, right, babe?”

You and Sohyun continue watching in silence, paying full attention to the documentary as if you were going to take a quiz after it’s done. That said, you make sure to mix in pecks and pets here and there. “I love you, baby,” you whisper. She lets out a deep exhale. “I love you too.”

Soon, Sohyun slaps your chest to get your attention. This time, a mama cat and her 5 kittens are shown on screen. The narrator speaks about how the family of cats have to move every few days because if they don’t, they’ll run out of food eventually. As they move, the mama cat keeps looking back to make sure no kitten is left behind, which is cute to see. “Wow, they can travel that far with those small legs? That’s crazy.”

“But with only so much rocky terrain to choose from, it’s easy to unexpectedly bump into neighbors,” the narrator says, “two families appeared to have chosen the same spot.” Sohyun tightens her grip on your arm. “Oh, please don’t fight—j-just share the spot with your neighbors, please.” Her tenseness dies down momentarily when a kitten is seen sprinting straight towards the camera crew with its tiny legs. “Bravely, the kitten gets as close as three meters from the camera,” the narrator adds. ”Then, perhaps after sensing the crew’s presence, it thinks better of it and turns to run.” It is when it’s back near its previous spot when the other kittens start swarming it, welcoming it back after such a brave adventure. Finally, as the kittens begin running further from the camera, the narrator explains that the two families are living alongside each other contently for now, and Sohyun is no longer uptight.

Xinyu comes out of your bedroom at some point near the end of the documentary and joins you and Sohyun on the sofa. “Mommy, daddy,” it looks like she likes those names, “I just finished my assignment; tell me you’re proud of me.” You pull her in for a cuddle on the other side that’s vacant. “I’m proud of you, baby,” you peck her on the top of her head. “Watch this with us, baby—it’s about to end, though.”

“Look here, there’s a steppe eagle’s feather,” the biologist says. The camera is then pointed at the remains of what is said to be a young female cat that the biologist has been keeping an eye on for research purposes. “Only 30% of young cats reach a year old, and there’s no guarantee the others will survive the winter,” the narrator piles on. “Damn, I joined during the sad part,” Xinyu says.

“As aggressive predators, these cats have passed down skills from mother to kitten seen in no other species of feline, yet they must be cautious enough to avoid becoming prey themselves. They are the true masters of the Mongolian plains.” Finally, the documentary ends with a drone footage of a cat roaming the frozen flats in its lonesome, looking for prey while avoiding whatever danger is lurking.

“That was cool,” Sohyun speaks her mind, “thanks, daddy.” “You’re welcome, sweetie,” you peck her forehead, and that is when you hear Xinyu whine. “I won’t forget you, baby.” You give Xinyu a peck on the forehead like you did Sohyun. “Is there anything else you want to watch?” “No,” Sohyun yawns, “let’s just chill like this.” She says she wants to chill, but Xinyu places a hand on your crotch. “Yah, did you not hear what mommy said?” Xinyu slowly moves her hand away from your cock, but you’re already hard because of it. “You’re going to face repercussions later, Miss Zhou.”

Sohyun has fallen asleep on the sofa at some point, and Xinyu thinks that it’s time to have fun. “Daddy,” she whispers, “don’t you want to touch me while mommy is asleep?” “Baby—” “Please, daddy, I want to have you to myself,” she insists. You look to your right; man, Sohyun is so pretty and elegant even when sleeping. “Alright, okay—I’ll join you in the bedroom after this,” you decide to give Xinyu what she wants. Once she gets off the sofa and leaves, you gently free the right side of your body from Sohyun’s grasp. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” you whisper to her.

When you enter your bedroom, you see that your computer is still on. “Daddy, look at my score,�� she points at it. You see that she got only one wrong out of 10 questions. “9 out of 10, huh?” “Me smort,” she says, proud of her achievement. You give her nine pecks on the lips, one for each question she got right. “Good job, baby—I’ll give you a present if you get all correct on a quiz next time,” you carefully word your promise, hoping that Xinyu will catch it.

“Can you give me a preview of that present now, daddy?” That is precisely the response you were looking for. Xinyu bites her lip when she sees your bare torso. “God damn,” she quips, “and you use that sexy body to play tennis?” You haven’t played tennis in a minute but yes, you do use this body to play it. “I don’t know, daddy, it feels like you’re playing the wrong fucking sport.” You chuckle. “Hey, at least I can hit the ball harder with these muscles.”

It is when Xinyu exposes her bare torso that you start getting hard (and drooling). “Fuck,” a curse flies out of your lips, “you are insanely hot, baby.” She giggles. “Mommy said the same thing on our first time.” “Does she say that still?” “Occasionally,” she says, “most of the time she just starts touching me as soon as I’m naked.”

You give Xinyu the chance to take off her pants by herself in peace. “I’m ready, daddy.” Initially, you thought about “crashing” into her like uncivilized-like, but after looking at her one more time, you opt to approach her slowly and softly. Putting your hands on her waist, you pull her in for a quick kiss. “I love you, baby.” “I will miss you for sure, daddy.” “You are always welcome here, baby—that is, if you want to see me.” Xinyu kisses you fleetingly. “Unless you give me a reason to hate you, you’ll always have a space in my heart.” You chuckle. “Don’t say that around mommy too much; wouldn’t want to make her jealous, hm?”

Xinyu falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you with her in the process. You gently rub her cheek with your thumb, earning a sweet smile from her. “You make me feel like I was your girlfriend.” “Would you rather be my sex buddy, then?” “I’ll be whatever you want me to, daddy; just tell me what you want.” You tell her that you want to take it slow to start and will pick up the naughtiness as you progress. “Sure, daddy.”

Having been shown the green light, you ease your junior into her pussy with a hand to guide. Xinyu lets out a lengthy moan as more of your shaft enters her until it’s entirely inside. “Oh, yes, daddy—am I tight, by the way?” “Very,” you say breathily, “you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” “O-only for mommy and daddy,” she replies just as breathily, “n-no one else deserves me.”

After taking a deep breath, you start moving your hips, and more moans start freely flowing out of her lips like water out of a tap. Amongst the moans, she mixes in some “daddy” and “I love you” as well. Xinyu gasps audibly after a particularly deep thrust. “R-right there, daddy, please.” You guess that she wants it as deep as possible, so for the next thrust, you make sure to lodge the entirety of your shaft in her. “Yes, daddy, that’s perfect.”

You maintain this slow pace, savoring the way her sexy moans are entering straight into your eager ears. As she expresses her enjoyment with these whispered words, you softly speak into her ear that’s right next to your mouth how tight and hot she feels around your cock. “Y-you’re so sweet,” she quips, “a-and so big.” You chuckle slightly. “You know how to fuel my ego, don’t you, sweetie?” The way she randomly licks your cheek sends a jolt through your body. “I-I have a secret to tell you, daddy,” she continues, “mommy’s dildos don’t—oh, God—they don’t compare to the real one, daddy.”

Your arousal reaches its peak; Xinyu for sure knows which buttons to press to get the best out of you (and Sohyun, but she’s not in the room). “Daddy,” she calls again, “I-I know how hard you are.” “Yeah?” “Y-yeah, daddy.” “So?” “So, turn it up, please; treat me like a sex buddy—make me scream until mommy wakes up.”

You straighten your posture and flip her onto her stomach, pulling out momentarily so that her long legs don’t hit you on the head. You part her plump butt cheeks to look for your target. “I want this,” you place a finger on her rear hole. “M-make me cum, a-and then I’ll give it to you.” “Deal.”

As soon as your cock is back in her pussy again, you start smashing her roughly, making her scream just like she requested. “Louder,” you spank her, “wake mommy up.” Adhering to your command, Xinyu turns up the volume of her screams, borderline exaggerating her reactions.

You keep fucking Xinyu at this rough pace, tugging her hair—wait, what is that feeling? “What—what the fuck?” When you look behind, you see Sohyun licking your asshole, thus forcing you to stop. “When did you get here?” She lifts her tongue off shortly to answer you. “Just now, but I’ve been listening from the other side,” she says.

You pull out from Xinyu’s tightness to sort out the situation. “You,” you point at Sohyun, “sit on that stool and watch—touch yourself if you want.” Sohyun nods and makes her way to the stool. “Now you,” you place a hand on Xinyu’s back, “be good.” “Y-yes, daddy.”

You take a seat on the bed and pull Xinyu onto your lap. “Tell mommy what you’re feeling, baby, okay?” She nods, and that is when you plunge into her warm pussy again. “M-mommy,” she starts right away, “d-daddy is so fucking big in my pussy.” You turn your head to the right so that you can see Sohyun, and would you look at that: she has a hand between her legs. “Keep going, baby,” you whisper to Xinyu as she’s moving along the length of your cock. “I-I’m taking daddy’s big dick like a good girl, mommy,” Xinyu piles on, and you hear a moan from Sohyun; she’s begun touching herself at the sight. “Let’s give mommy something enjoyable to watch, baby.”

With your hands fixed on her waist, you guide Xinyu to bounce on your shaft, and at the same time, you thrust upwards to meet her in the middle. “Mommyyy,” she begins dragging her words, “mommy, he’s fucking me like a sex buddy.” You laugh internally at how she’s phrasing it. “Daddy, daddy,” she shifts her attention to you, her hand reaching backwards towards your nape, “I-I won’t last—oh, fuck, I won’t last too long, daddy.”

You pick up the tempo to the maximum that you’re physically able to reach, highly eager to make Xinyu cum. “Let’s go, baby—let’s fucking go.”

With one last loud scream, Xinyu announces her orgasm, her thighs and legs vibrating violently as she goes flying across the finish line. Xinyu falls feebly onto the bed, going face first onto the pillow that’s thankfully fluffy enough to soften the landing.

Your attention is promptly shifted away from her when you hear splashing sounds from behind. “Oh, you too, baby?” Sohyun tries to get closer to you, but her weak legs just won’t cooperate, so you decide to approach her. “What does a mommy do when her baby makes a mess?” “The-the mommy cleans after the baby, da-daddy,” she answers. “Correct,” you say, “so, what are you waiting for?”

Sohyun takes you in her mouth and runs her tongue along the underside of your cock, making you jump a little when she reaches the spot just before the tip. “Great job, sweetie,” you make sure you don’t forget the praise. “Great fucking job.” Having fixed her hands on your thighs, she keeps bobbing her head along your cock. “How does your baby taste?” “Good, sir,” Sohyun pulls out a new name for you, “I-I like her taste on your cock, sir.” You pet her head gently. “Alright, that’s enough, sweetie.”

Sohyun grabs your leg when you walk away from her. “Don’t cum in her.” “You have my word, baby.” Satisfied, she lets you go, so you continue walking towards the beauty in bed. You stroke your cock aggressively, and with a low moan, you spray cum all over Xinyu’s firm tummy. “I love you, baby girl,” you say in a soft tone.

Xinyu is still deep asleep, so you decide to have food delivered here for lunch. Sohyun says she wants a burger and some fries, so that’s what the three of you are having this afternoon.

You lie on the sofa with Sohyun as you wait for the food. “Changmin-ah, I’m not happy that you touched Xinyu before I did,” she doesn’t sugarcoat her words. “I’m sorry,” you don’t know what else to say, “she, erm, she wanted to have sex while you were asleep.” She stays silent for a moment, trying to come up with a reply. “I don’t want to compete with you, Changmin-ah—I can’t compete with you; you have a real penis, but I don’t,” she says.

With the way she’s phrasing it, you realize that she’s worried about losing Xinyu to you because of her double sidedness. You also realize that at one point during the session, Xinyu spoke of how the dildos don’t compare to a real penis. “Yeah, alright,” you say, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

When the food arrives, Sohyun goes to the bedroom to get Xinyu while you sort out the dining table situation. You want to greet the sleepy girl as she walks out of your bedroom, but the way Sohyun is glaring at you (it’s also possible that she’s just looking at you with those sharp eyes with no ill intent) stifles your tongue.

“Why is no one saying anything? Did you fight when I was asleep?” Xinyu is quick to pick up the awkwardness in the air. You put on a smile for her. “No, we just had some things to talk about,” you deflect. “Talk, of course.”

Your eyes are locked on the wrapped burgers on the table until Sohyun turns your face towards her. “Can I help you?” Sohyun gives you a flash kiss. “I don’t hate you, just so we’re clear.” You put on another smile for her. “That’s great to hear, sweetheart.”

You decide that you’ve had enough of the awkwardness and grab a burger, followed by Sohyun and Xinyu who do the same. “Enjoy your lunch, girls.” After taking a bite from the juicy cheeseburger, you chase it with a few pieces of fries. Hums fly out of your lips as you savor the glorious taste—there’s a reason why this burger shop always has long lines, especially in the evening. “Babe, relax,” Sohyun snaps you out of your feeding frenzy, “no one is trying to steal that from you.” You hold in a laugh because your mouth is full. “Me plenty hungry,” you say.

The three of you fill the room with conversations about light subjects such as college life and past dating experiences. “So, daddy,” Xinyu says, “what happened to your last girlfriend?” “Well, she left,” you say plainly, “the problem was with me, not her.” “How so?” You sigh. “Well, I didn’t make time for her enough; there was this one week where I was so busy with classes and a bunch of other things, and the only interaction I had with her that week was dinner on Tuesday and Thursday and sex after—I think that pushed her over the edge.” Xinyu nods as she listens to your story. “Well, I figured since I’m still busy with myself, I’ll just spare these girls the bullshit and be alone for now,” you add. “Isn’t that sweet,” Xinyu comments.

After lunch, you go back to the sofa. Xinyu tries climbing your body, but Sohyun gets to you first. “Aaaah, mommy,” Xinyu whines. “No, you’ve had enough fun with him already.” In your head, you guess that this is her way of stopping you and Xinyu from touching each other, so you just let Sohyun do what she wants. “You’re not trying to steal him from me, are you, mommy?” “No,” Sohyun says, “if anything, I’m trying to stop him from stealing you from me.” Xinyu blinks slowly as she processes what she has just heard. “S-stealing me? From you?”

Sohyun gets off your body and takes Xinyu’s hands in hers. “Baby, listen, please,” she begins, “I’ll come clean and say that I’m scared of losing you to him—he has the single thing that I don’t.” “I bet you’re talking about his dick.” “I mean, yeah,” Sohyun admits, “when I had sex with him a few days ago, I told him that you also deserved to feel the same ecstasy I did, so I brought you to him—now, though, I feel like I’m losing you because we all know you play for both sides.”

Xinyu glances at you over Sohyun’s shoulder before shifting her gaze towards her again. “Mommy,” she says, “I must admit that sex with daddy is amazing, but that’s not going to sway me from you—I love you with all my heart, mommy.” Behind Sohyun’s back, you let out a big sigh of relief; Xinyu just assured (wholeheartedly, at that) Sohyun that she’s not losing her girlfriend to you, and you imagine that hearing it directly from Xinyu is as good of a certitude as it gets.

“Oh my God, what the hell am I nervous for?” You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Sohyun slaps your thigh playfully. “If Xinyu leaves me for you, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to a cat.” You chuckle a little “The Pallas’s cat from earlier?” Sohyun laughs. “Yeah, one of them.”

“Huh?”

“Hi, there,” Sohyun’s face is hovering closely over yours. “Good nap?”

“Very,” you say, “very good.”

“Nice, I’m glad.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I want—no, we want your dick.”

Of course, they do; what else would they disrupt your peaceful nap for if not sex?

You say to her that you’ll join them in the bedroom after gathering your consciousness, so Sohyun leaves first while you rub your eyes and get yourself ready to perform in front of these women, and in your head, you’re curious if they always have this much sex on the daily.

Xinyu only has her underwear on when you get to the bedroom while Sohyun is just about to undress herself. “There he is,” Xinyu welcomes you, “you looked cute when you were sleeping, daddy.” “Only when sleeping, huh?” “I mean, yeah—ah, wait, have mercy!” She laughs uncontrollably when you tickle her waist in revenge for the incorrect answer. “You should take on media training; you need to be able to say the correct things, you know.”

You and Xinyu keep exchanging jokes until Sohyun snags your attention by tapping your forearm. “Strip me, daddy.” You drag her towards the wall and hold her hands over her head, trapping her between a rock and a hard place. “Didn’t you see that I was in the middle of a conversation?” Her eyes shake. Intimidated by the sudden change in your attitude. “So-sorry, d-daddy,” she stutters, “I—” You intrude by latching your lips onto the smooth skin of her neck, forcing a moan out of her because of the surprise.

Sohyun starts humping your thigh that is neatly placed between her legs, and you can feel how wet she is through her panties. It is when Xinyu says that she wants a piece of Sohyun that you take her to bed. “What do you think we should do to her, baby?” “I want to fuck her ass, daddy,” Xinyu says, her eyes fiery in lust. She then leans closer towards Sohyun. “A virgin ass must be so fucking tight, isn’t it?” Xinyu drops the naughty charade momentarily to ask if she has Sohyun’s consent, and she does.

As usual, you take your rightful spot on the stool to watch these ladies conduct business. “Ready when you are,” you quip, making Xinyu laugh. She’s probably asking herself why you, a spectator, are seemingly more excited about this than she is. “Mommy, look,” she says, “daddy is horny just from looking at us.”

Sohyun looks at you for a split second before looking back at Xinyu, visibly nervous about getting fucked in the ass for the first time, and you think that this is a good time to step in. “Timeout, ladies—time-fucking-out,” you say. You approach the bed, your eye locked on Sohyun. “Your heart is racing, isn’t it, baby?” “Y-you can tell?” You put on a soft smile as you pet her head. “You’re breathing fast, and your face tells me that you’re nervous.” “Y-yes, I-I’m nervous,” she admits with little argument.

Xinyu promises that she’ll use a lot of lube and be gentle, and for your part, you sit on the bed next to Sohyun and hold her hand through the ass-taking. “Squeeze my hand as much as you want—you can also scream if you want to; we’re safe here.” Sohyun nods slightly as she’s looking at Xinyu, who is busy coating the rubber dick with lube.

Sohyun gasps sharply when she feels the tip poking her rear hole. “G-gently, baby, please,” she begs. “Sure, I’ll try.” Xinyu has no problem speaking since she can’t feel anything, but based on how hard your hand is being squeezed right now, it has to be intense for the anal virgin.

You keep an eye on both Xinyu and Sohyun as the former begins moving in and out of the latter’s asshole. “Daddy,” Xinyu steals your attention, “you didn’t hold me like that when I was getting fucked.” An apology is everything you can come up with, but she doesn’t want words. “I’ll forgive you if you’d lick my ass.” Adhering to her demand, you move behind Xinyu and start eating her ass, earning a long moan from her. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, daddy—eat my ass just like that.”

Amidst your busyness of eating ass and stroking yourself, you can hear that Sohyun’s grunts have been replaced by moans; she must be finding anal enjoyable now that she’s spent a few minutes getting used to having her ass filled.

Shortly after, however, Xinyu tells you that she’s had enough of your service and that she wants you to watch as she “takes mommy to cloud nine.” You return to your throne and wrap your fingers around your cock. “Go on then, baby.”

You’re a bit surprised when Xinyu folds her mommy in half; you didn’t expect her to have the heart to be rough on Sohyun’s first time like this. “You always do this to me, mommy, and today, you’ll learn how to take it.” Sohyun screams very loudly when Xinyu begins fucking her ass roughly, and admittedly, this is very arousing to watch. “God, these girls are insane,” you think.

“You like this, mommy? You like getting fucked in the ass with a fake dick?” Too busy moaning, Sohyun resorts to nodding. “Aren’t you a dirty fucking slut.” Once again, you didn’t know Xinyu had it in her like that, but your hand moves faster along your length, nonetheless, finding the sight hot.

While Sohyun’s hands are busy holding her ankles above her head, Xinyu uses hers to rub the nub without letting up the pace. “Cum for me, mommy—cum for me like you always do.” The moans become louder as Sohyun approaches her orgasm, and with a scream, juice spurts out of her, splashing all over herself and Xinyu. “Good, good,” Xinyu coos, “good job, mommy.” It is when Xinyu pulls out of the freshly fucked ass that you see the gape. “We’re totally not virgins now, mommy.”

You stop stroking yourself to prevent semen from coming out of your cock. “You girls are insane,” you mindlessly utter, still high on arousal. You gasp when Xinyu touches your cock. “You’re still hard, and I have an idea.” “F-fire away.” She looks behind her quickly to check on Sohyun, who is visibly drained. “Fuck me, daddy, and when mommy is ready, I want the both of you.”

After taking off the strap-on, Xinyu drags you towards the bed and bends over. “Fuck me like this, daddy.” “No, no, that won’t do,” you say, “get on the bed, baby; we’ll give mommy a proper show.” She lies on her stomach and makes the time to give Sohyun a quick peck. “Mommy,” she says, “daddy is going to fuck me, so please watch us with full attention, okay?”

You tease Xinyu by poking her asshole with the tip of your cock, making her jump a little. “Not yet, daddy.” “Later, then?” She looks at you with a sexy smile on her face. “Just start already, hm?” You slide your cock into her, and since she’s not spreading her legs, her thicc thighs makes it feel tighter, on top of her already-tight pussy. Xinyu begins moaning audibly, borderline exaggerating her reactions for the sake of Sohyun’s entertainment. “Oh, yes, daddy—fuck, yes.” She screams when your palm lands on her butt a few times.

You think that now is a good time to really get to it; the two of you have warmed up enough, and you, in particular, are really desperate to cum. You plant your knees on the bed on either side of Xinyu’s thighs and start moving your hips back and forth while your cock is lodged in her, earning soft moans from Xinyu, mixed with some high-pitched ones occasionally.

It must be because you’ve stimulated yourself earlier, because you can already feel orgasm approaching quick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby,” you say, “I don’t think I can last long.” “D-don’t cum inside, daddy,” Sohyun speaks on Xinyu’s behalf, and you nod in response. You maintain this high pace during the last stretch of this short session while keeping it in the back of your head to pull out when you cum. Noticing that your shaft is throbbing, you pull out and stroke yourself to completion, thus painting Xinyu’s smooth butt with semen. “I love you, baby,” you make sure you don’t forget the sweet words for the girl.

Despite your weak legs, you move to get some wet tissue to clean up both Xinyu and Sohyun. “We’re going to swap the sheets again after this.” “No,” Xinyu rebuts, “I-I want to go again—with mommy and daddy this time.” You guess-timate that you’re still capable of doing another round, but what about Sohyun? You look at her, and she seems to have gathered herself. “You alright, sweetie?” Sohyun simply nods, a small, cute smile decorating her face. “We’ll take a little water break first, and then we can see how we can proceed, okay?”

You leave to get some water from the kitchen, filling a large tumbler for the girls to share and another one that’s smaller for yourself. You mix in some cold water so that it’s more refreshing, especially since everyone is exhausted.

When you return to the bedroom, Sohyun and Xinyu are embracing. “Hello, hello,” you greet them, “is everyone okay?” They look at you with a smile, but Sohyun’s eyes are glassy. “I, uh, just told Xinyu how much I love and cherish her,” she says. “And you’re the one crying, you little softie?” “You know me.” That is right, you do know her; you know it better than most that Sohyun is soft and kind at heart, and it’s solely because of her styling choices that make her look, for a lack of better term, cold.

You hand Sohyun the big tumbler, and she immediately takes a sip. “Oh, that’s nice—thanks, daddy.” She then guides it towards Xinyu and helps her take a sip, getting a peck on the cheek as a reward.

“So, what now?” “Xinyu said she wanted one more round, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to do it now; she doesn’t look to be in the mood,” you say. Sohyun chuckles a little. “She’s always like that; she’ll say that she wants more but run out of energy after the first round.” Based on how Xinyu isn’t refuting, Sohyun’s words must be right. “I guess we can keep it for later; we still have time, don’t we?” “Yes, we do.”

You’re about to boot up a game on your PlayStation when Xinyu jumps on the sofa and puts her head on your thighs. “What are we playing, daddy?” “I’m thinking about a sports game; I don’t feel like thinking too much tonight.” She chuckles. “Never thought I’d hear such words from a Dean’s List guy.” You laugh. “I mean, I use so much brain space for my studies that I don’t want to use more of it to play games.”

You start NBA 2K and jump into a quick match. The game has you take control of the New York Knicks and play against the Brooklyn Nets. On your first possession, while controlling Jalen Brunson, you manage to make a 3-point basket off a catch. “These guys in black could use your help, baby,” you comment, making Xinyu giggle. “Maybe I should consider learning basketball—wait, you play basketball, don’t you?” “I used to but haven’t played in quite some time now.”

At one point in the 3rd quarter, Sohyun joins you and Xinyu on the sofa. “76 to 83, really?” “McBride couldn’t hit a shot to save his life,” you complain, adding a sigh to emphasize your annoyance. “Excuses, excuses.” In a moment of desperation with a few seconds to go in the 3rd, you do a little pick-and-roll with Brunson and McBride, and finally, you manage to make a long-range shot with him. “Goodness me, that was so frustrating.”

Sohyun says she wants to make a bet with you, and the term is that if she can win the game with a margin of at least 10 points, you’ll do something for her, and if she can’t, she’ll do something for you. You hand the controller over to her. “Do your worst, baby.” Sohyun is quite experienced in playing video games, specifically NBA 2K, so the chance of success for her is actually decent. It’s just a matter of whether she can make shots to not only come back from the deficit but also get a 10-point lead.

She immediately goes quiet after making the first layup, putting on her signature “I’m fully concentrating” face that includes a little pout. “Look at her, babe,” you say to Xinyu who then laughs at the sight. Sohyun mumbles something, seemingly annoyed, when Jericho Sims fails to score a contested attempt near the basket. “Oof, unfortunate, Miss Park,” you tease her. She gives you a short glare before turning her focus back on the game.

Sohyun is currently going on a scoring run, and with less than 2 minutes left, she’s up by 6 points. Similar to how you did it with Miles McBride, she does a rolling screen and follows it up with a 3-point attempt with Karl-Anthony Towns. “Oh, God, please go in.” The ball rattles around the rim for a moment before going through the net, and you swear that all three of you let out a sigh of relief at the same time. “Don’t bottle it now, Sohyun-ah,” you say.

Unfortunately for her, however, Cam Thomas manages to slip through the defense for a layup, which means that she’ll need 3 points on the other end of the court to win the bet. You notice that she’s gripping the controller harder as she tries to use the little time she has left in the game to get that 10-point lead. With Jalen Brunson leading the team across the court, she calls for another screen with Towns, but instead of using it to go towards the paint, she backs off and takes a shot from the 3-point area. “Oh my God,” she says, out of breath, “I made it—I won the bet.” You want to say that she technically hasn’t won the game yet, but you don’t want to point that out and potentially ruin her mood. “Congratulations,” you reply, “so, what do you want?”

Sohyun sets the controller down gently on the table in front of the sofa. “Well, why don’t we have sex one more time?” “That’s a lot of sex in a day,” you comment. “Surely you’re strong enough for it—also, I won the bet.” You see that Xinyu is looking at you, waiting for you to say the correct response. “Yeah, alright,” you say, “let’s have sex, then.”

You follow her back to your bedroom, and when you’re right in front of your bed, Sohyun plants her hands on your chest, making you tumble backwards onto it. “Watch me strip.” She wastes little time getting rid of her clothes, letting them scatter on the bedroom floor for the nth time this weekend. “One day, if we have time, I’ll invite you over and we won’t wear anything indoors; we’ll just have sex whenever and wherever,” she says. “Shit, that sounds crazy.”

In the corner of your vision, you notice that Xinyu is joining you and Sohyun in the room. “Sorry, but daddy is mine, baby.” “W-what are you going to do with him, mommy?” “I’m going to take him in my ass.” Her words make you hard instantly, so you move to undress yourself quickly. “Look at him, he must be excited.”

Seeing that you’ve ridden of your clothes, Sohyun jumps onto your lap, your erect cock pressed against her firm tummy. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, isn’t it, daddy?” “I mean, lube can help with that.” She scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that?” “Well, where’s the fun in painful sex?” Your counter makes her roll her eyes, and you’re unsure what it means.

You get some idea when Sohyun lifts her butt and takes you in her pussy; she’s probably suggesting that her pussy will be able to coat your shaft before it goes in her ass. “Oh, that’s so hot.” “Better than a dildo, hey?” “Much better,” she whispers, creating goosebumps all over your body. It is when she begins fucking herself on your cock that moans start flowing out of her parted lips.

You almost want to protest when she removes you from her pussy. “That should be enough lube,” she says. Sohyun then pulls you onto your feet, bends over, and spreads her butt to expose her puckered hole. “Fuck my ass, daddy.” You add more lube onto your cock in the form of spit, hoping that it’ll be easier for both of you to do this. “Here I go, then.”

With your tip poking her rear, you move forwards and force your way into Sohyun’s ass. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You spank her a few times, and she lets out more dirty words in response. “Oi,” you turn briefly to Xinyu, “watch us and don’t touch yourself, or else.” Having fixed your hands on her waist, you start fucking Sohyun’s ass recklessly, and based on the sound of her moans, it’s nearly too much for her, but fuck it, it was her idea to not use proper lube.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she chants mindlessly amidst the clapping sounds, “you’re in my ass, daddy.” Her tight ass stifles your tongue, making you unable to respond verbally, so you use your shaft to do the talking, and that is when Sohyun starts screaming out loud as if it was her first time all over again.

You don’t how long you’ve been pounding her ass like—wait, what on Earth is that sound? Your attention is seized when you hear splashing sounds on the floor. “You’re really squirting from this, huh?” Sohyun nods weakly against the mattress. “I-it’s too fucking good, daddy.”

You pull out of her tight ass and flip her onto her stomach. “You have two choices to atone for the mess right now: one is to continue getting fucked in the ass until I cum, and the other is to fuck Xinyu with me until I cum.” Sohyun’s lips form a naughty smile. “Let’s fuck Xinyu together, daddy; she said she wanted it, didn’t she?”

Xinyu looks at you nervously. “B-both of you a-at the same time?” “You asked for it, remember?” She did, but now that she’s about to get it, she’s getting nervous. “No longer interested in being a good girl for mommy and daddy?” Xinyu grabs the strap-on from the bedside table and hands it over to Sohyun. “I-I’ll always be good for mommy and daddy.”

You help Sohyun get onto her feet and put on the sex toy while Xinyu positions her naked self in the middle of the bed. “So, do you want to be in her pussy or ass?” “I’ll fuck her pussy first, and then we can swap,” Sohyun says.

Before you start this wild session, you make sure Xinyu is on board first. “Baby, I know we’ve been acting weird, but do you consent?” She nods slightly. “Y-yes, b-but I’m nervous.” You put on a soft smile for her, in contrast of your hard cock. “Mommy will do it first, and I’ll join after, okay?” “O-okay, daddy.”

Sohyun lies in bed, and Xinyu moves to sit on the fake dick, moaning as more of it enters her body. You let her get comfortable with Sohyun before even thinking about joining. Based on how fast she’s bouncing on Sohyun’s lap, you guess that she must be pretty damn horny from watching the two of you earlier.

“Daddy,” Xinyu turns her head to see you, “I’m ready now.” You take a spot behind her and aim your cock at her rear. “If you want to stop, just scream, okay?” She gives you a nod, and that is when you negotiate your shaft into her, going deep right away. “Oh, oh, God, fuck,” she scrunches her forehead, overwhelmed by how stuffed she is. “Fuck, I-I’m so full.” You slowly move your cock back and forth in her ass, and as high-pitched moans escape Xinyu’s lips in abundance, Sohyun starts moving too.

“P-please,” Xinyu says, “fuck me, please—fuck me, fuck me!” You and Sohyun try to maintain this alternating combination where the two of you take turns thrusting into Xinyu. Among the loud moans, sometimes Xinyu lets out hisses too, especially when it’s your turn to thrust into her. “My ass—fuck, my ass is on fire, daddy.” “I know,” is your answer, because the way her muscles are gripping your cock hampers your brain’s capabilities like none other.

“T-timeout.” Xinyu moves forwards with all the strength she can muster up, removing you and Sohyun from her ass and pussy respectively, and rolls onto the bed. You keep your eyes on her as she starts rubbing herself. “MOMMY, HOLD ME!” She screams as her body is reacting violently to the orgasm; her thighs and legs are the parts that are shaking the most.

Sohyun has her limbs wrapped around her girlfriend, adhering to the latter’s request of being held. “You’re fine, baby; you’re perfectly safe in my arms.” She keeps whispering nice words that you hope aren’t falling to deaf ears because they’re that sweet, especially considering the context. “I’m so proud of you, baby—you did so, so well,” Sohyun adds.

“I-I can’t,” Xinyu is panting heavily, “I can’t continue.” You ask if she’s in pain, but she says no; it’s just that she’s very drained. “Well, that’s unfortunate,” you think, only concerned about yourself and the fact that you’re potentially getting blue-balled. Your eyes happen to land on Sohyun, and she promptly invites you to get in between her legs.

“I know what you’re thinking, daddy,” she says, “give it to me—I’m her legal representative.” You laugh. “What are you talking about, babe?” Sohyun joins you in laughing. “Well, you know what I meant.” She invites you to lie down on the bed next to Xinyu, who is somewhat serene now. “Do you have condoms?” You nod and point at the bedside table on the other side of the bed, next to Xinyu, and Sohyun grabs two of them. She uses one to envelope her rubber dick and tosses the other to you. “Put that on,” she says, “ass-to-pussy sounds like a recipe for STD.”

Sohyun jumps back onto the bed, her knees set on either side of your thighs and her pussy floating closely over the tip of your cock while her hand is busy trying to shove the dildo part of the strap-on into her ass. “Oh, ngh, fuck.” You hold her hands as she squirms around, getting used to the sensation in her rear. “I-I’m ready.” “So am I, baby.”

You move your hands onto her hips and guide her towards your cock, and the sensation of being double stuffed makes her moan loudly right away. “Daddy, daddy,” she calls to you breathily, “I-I’m so fucking full, daddy.” You want to say something back, but first, you take a deep breath because it feels like her pussy is squeezing your cock more tightly. “Fuck, you’re much tighter like this, baby,” you utter. “Oh, oh, fuck—really, daddy?” “I think—oh, God, yes, you are.”

Sohyun slowly lifts her hips off yours and goes down again just as slowly, savoring the first moments of double penetration. “Fuck, I-I feel bad for Xinyu now,” she says, “w-we went hard on her, daddy.” Your eyes quickly move to the side to look at Xinyu, whose jaw is dropped, wordless at the sight in front of her. “W-we’ll make it up to her later, baby.”

Without command, Sohyun begins bouncing on your cock, unintelligible sounds escaping her lips as she does. “Oh, God, sorry.” She stops momentarily when she loses balance. You hold her hands and place them on your chest to help her stabilize, and now that her tits are within arm’s reach, you take them in your hands. “Fuck, I knew that would happen.” You chuckle a little. “I don’t want you to fall.” She smiles a little before resuming her movements, and in the corner of your eyes, you happen to spot Xinyu rubbing herself, no longer stunned by the view you and Sohyun are providing.

You don’t know how long Sohyun has been fucking herself on your cock, but one thing that’s certain is that your orgasm is not that far away now. “B-baby,” your voice is breathy, “I-I won’t last long.” Your words make her pick up the pace. “I-I’m close too,” she says, just as breathy as you are.

You’re surprised when Xinyu suddenly sits on your face. If only she was facing the other way, you’d be able to breathe, but then she’d not be able to kiss Sohyun, so you’ll make do of this situation. You run your tongue back and forth across her pussy, occasionally mixing things up by licking her little nub. You use your strong hands to hold Xinyu down whenever she jolts around too much so that your tongue won’t miss its target.

You’re a bit concerned when you feel yourself twitching in Sohyun’s pussy—you haven’t asked if she wanted it inside or not, but at least she’s on top; she’ll be able to remove your cock from her insides easily if she wishes so. “Yes, fuck!” Despite your ears being blocked by Xinyu’s thighs, you can still hear Sohyun’s scream when you release hot semen into her. “Oh, I came inside, huh?”

Xinyu finally gets off your face, and that is when you can see Sohyun’s high-from-orgasm face; her forehead is drenched in sweat, her thighs are shaking subtly, and her mouth is wide open. “T-that’s so hot,” she says, “h-how are you always so hot, daddy.” “I-I don’t know,” you reply simply. Sohyun gradually lifts herself off your cock, letting some excess semen drip out of her pussy and onto your crotch. “I-I’m done, I can’t take any more,” she says. You notice that she’s getting limp, so you pull her into an embrace before she falls in a less-favorable direction—wouldn’t want her to fall off the bed and onto the floor, would you?

Sohyun takes advantage of the position and kisses you warmly. “I love you, daddy.” “I love you more—I love both of you,” you correct yourself. She lets out a small giggle. “Y-you’re going to have to take us home later, daddy.” “Gladly,” you give her a peck on the lips, “but you’re going to help me change the sheets and clean things up first, okay?”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #triples smut

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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

Text

Jealousy

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the team tracks down the unsub they are looking for, it’s up to reader to lure him out of the bar with nothing but her charm and charisma. Spencer however, just can’t stand watching it. He makes sure to make his feelings known to the reader later on.

Content Warnings: Post-Prison!Spencer, Jealous!Spencer, BAU!reader, case details, coarse language, Dom!Spencer, kinda mean!Spencer, sub!reader, possessiveness, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (F receiving), fingering, hair pulling, spitting, aftercare, fluff at the end

Word count: 3k

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Well, here it is! Can I technically call this ‘Jealousy (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)’ ?

Spencer approached Emily, his brow furrowed with concern, as he held a file tightly in his hands. "Emily, we need to talk about Y/N's undercover assignment. I've been analyzing the data, and there are some significant risks involved that we need to address before we even think of sending her out there.” he began, his voice laced with urgency.

Emily, her expression serious yet attentive, met Spencer’s gaze. "I understand your concerns, Reid, but we've already vetted this operation thoroughly. Y/N is well-prepared and capable of handling herself," she responded, her voice steady and reassuring.

It wasn’t matters of him thinking that Y/N wasn’t prepared, it was him being worried because this unsub was taking women who fit her image description and killing them after doing horrible things to them.

The male nodded, his worry still evident. "I know Y/N is skilled, but the circumstances surrounding this case are unusually complex. I just want to make sure we have contingency plans in place and that we're ready to support her in any way necessary," he explained, his analytical mind racing with potential scenarios. She could have a knife pulled on her and be forced out, this unsub could drug her by sticking her with something, he could kill her right there if he figured out she was a federal agent..

After being released from prison, Spencer became a different man. He used to be more composed, now however, he was more temperamental. It didn’t help that Y/N was his girlfriend, the need to protect her being obvious. Besides, who wants to see their partner talking with a man who was brutally stabbing women and doing horrible things to their corpses? Especially when each of those women could’ve been her twin. That put her in a high risk situation that wasn’t a guaranteed arrest.

“Reid,” The Unit Chief let one hand come up to rub her face, the woman being tired of the argument. She could understand the worry and frustration, however this was Y/N’s job that she’d been doing for a good six years now. She knew the stakes as well as what she could or couldn’t handle.

“I promise that we will have this covered. We have surveillance all over the bar. Alvez, Simmons, and you are going to be inside, close enough to stop anything if things go too far.” She stressed the details, the woman just being exhausted explaining her decision continuously. “You aren’t changing my mind. I need you to understand that this decision was made with Y/N. You need to let her do her job.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸��

Y/N walked into the dimly lit bar, her gaze looking around for Marcus Black, the man’s face still fresh in her mind from the picture that Penelope had sent her while she was on the way over to the location, the woman trying to mentally prepare herself for the mental gymnastics she’d have to go through for this. It was a common misconception that undercover missions were much easier than having to risk it by assuming who the unsub is and building off the profile.

Y/N would argue this is much harder. You have to stand in front of a person who did unspeakable things to others. You have to get close and personal, be able to hide that overwhelming feeling of being disgusted, nervous, and even terrified. This was a man who was definitely bigger than she was in every aspect, being able to take her down if he truly wanted to.

That didn’t stop her from flashing a bright smile at the bartender as she’d approached the bar, sitting in a bar stool while ordering a vodka tonic. Across the room, she could get a clear view of Matt Simmons, the man keeping his gaze fixated on her as he gave a nod once the two made direct eye contact.

She had a wire, the team could hear everything from the earpieces they all had in order to communicate with one another as well as communicate with her, even if she couldn’t very well respond in an obvious way.

Although as Y/N was lost in her thoughts, she could feel a presence beside her, one that oozed darkness. The vibe had dropped tremendously low, however Y/N needed to keep up a façade or all of this will go to shit, something the team definitely doesn’t need right now.

Especially when they could just taste the capture that was going to come. “Hi.” The woman spoke, a charming smile gracing her features while her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her fingers playing with the straw in her drink.

Which as she had struck up a conversation, Spencer was quietly watching from the other end of the bar, nursing a full glass of some mixed drink in front of him just to avoid suspicion. He knew that she had to fake interest but that didn’t stop a heat rising in his chest, one associated with jealousy.

Seeing his girlfriend giving another man bedroom eyes, laughing at every word he said, even putting her hand on his upper arm was enough to make him seethe in his spot, hazel eyes focused on his girlfriend.

She was giggling, he could just hear it from his spot, probably telling him that she just couldn’t bare the thought of going home alone. He was just further pissing himself off thinking of the potential things she could be saying, not even tuning in to the actual dialogue because he knew it would’ve pissed him off much more than his own thoughts.

It was enough to make him clench his hand around the glass in his right hand. It was like his brain was trying to trick him into genuinely believing that Y/N was enjoying herself. He knew better, however the anger over the ‘what if’ had him shaking.

It reminded him of when he was in prison.

Y/N would come to visit him and it was one of the only things that got him through the hell, however the other inmates always had their comments. Saying explicit things about his angel, what they’d do to her given the chance to ever see her outside of those four cement walls. He wanted to keep his head down at the time but god damn, if this version of him was in prison, he would’ve been throwing fists and starting fights over his girlfriend, adding onto his sentence.

This was absolute fucking torture, Spencer’s leg bouncing in annoyance as he was using his opposite hand to put the earpiece in his ear, just in time to hear something that would have him absolutely livid. “I don’t think you could handle me, sweetheart. However if you’re up for a challenge, I’m always happy to take a precious little dove like yourself home.. However.. I don’t know if you could take what I’m going to give you,”

The male’s voice was the first thing Spencer was greeted with. “Is that so? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. But I promise, once you've tasted the forbidden fruit, there's no turning back.” Y/N countered, her voice low and in a seductive tone while her fingers were tracing over the rim of her glass.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, honey.” The man continued while looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Most women can’t handle what I offer. We make a wager..” There it is! Now tell her, you fucking fuck.

“If they can get through my little game, they get to go home. If not?” He began, reaching in his jacket pocket. Which was enough to make Spencer jump up from his spot before he was storming over, catching a glimpse of a knife being pulled from an inner jacket pocket.

It gave him probable cause to shove the man over the counter, making Y/N’s eyes widen at the surprise while she was jumping back.

“Marcus Black, you are under arrest for the murders of Christine Brailey, Jessica Fredricks, and Emily Knight as well as the attempted murder of Amanda Grey.” Spencer spoke through gritted teeth, the handcuffs locking tightly on his wrists before he was shoving him out of the bar.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N’s back was hitting the front door of the apartment as soon as she and Spencer made it inside, the woman gasping while she was trapped between her boyfriend’s body and the wooden door.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying yourself back there. I mean you were really trying to sell it, weren’t you?” Spencer asked, eyebrows raising as his hand was coming under his girlfriends chin to make her look at him. He looked furious, it was enough to make Y/N nearly fall on her knees right then and there.

The thing about Spencer was that he was much different now, prison changing him in many ways. He was still a good man, there were no doubts about that, but now he had more anger.

Which Y/N was the outlet he needed when he was having a hard time, fucking her deep into their mattress where she was soaking their bedsheets with her cum, getting to the point where she was crying from overstimulation and begging for more.

“Get your little ass in the bedroom.” Spencer spat, dropping his hand before watching his girlfriend scurry off, making a b-line to their bedroom. It took Spencer an agonising amount of time to lock up and make sure everything was turned off for the night before he was making an appearance.

“You know, I could tell you were truly enjoying yourself. How does it feel to be a fucking whore?” He spat, making Y/N clench her thighs together as she could just feel her arousal soaking her panties from the harsh words.

“Look at you. Fucking pathetic. You’re really getting wet right now while I’m scolding you for being a whore?” He asked, taking a few steps over before letting his hand tangle in his girlfriend’s hair, tugging her head up to force her to look up at him from the spot where she was sitting on their king sized bed.

“So cock hungry.” He spoke while letting go of her hair while working to loosen his tie, urging his girlfriend to take his belt off for him. However as she was moving to start on his pants, his hand was wrapping around hers. “No.” He began, using the tie he’d loosened and taken off to restrain her hands behind her back.

“You don’t get the pleasure of touching me tonight.” He scolded his girlfriend before pushing her back onto the mattress, his hand grabbing her right ankle before he was pulling her to the end of the bed.

The black dress she wore had a perfect eyeful for him, her tits threatening to spill over the top as he was running his large hands over her body, fingertips tracing over the straps before he was pulling them down, letting her breasts out of their confinement while he groaned lowly. He had seen her body so much and he could navigate it with ease, but seeing her was always like the first time. Just.. He knows what he’s doing now and he’s not as nervous. “Fucking gorgeous.” His voice was low while he was using no effort at all to tug the dress down her legs, throwing it somewhere on their bedroom floor.

“The point of panties is to have something to cover you up.” He spoke lowly, chuckling as her needy, swollen cunt was practically swallowing the fabric of the panties that were on her hips. With a soft hum, his fingertips were running across her covered slit, collecting her arousal on his fingers while sighing, his head shaking.

“Look my angel. Who’s got you this wet?” He asked, his hands pushing her thighs apart more, falling to his knees at the edge of the mattress. “Y-you.” Y/N was whispering, shaking with anticipation as she was really desperate for something, anything. She knew the game Spencer was playing though.

“Damn right,” He gave an arrogant smirk while blowing cool air on her soaked pussy, a chuckle leaving his lips at the pathetic mewl that fell from her lips. “That’s right. Me. Because you’re mine, Y/N. Gonna show you what happens when you get too into flirting when you only had to do the bare minimum.” He murmured, his fingers hooking in the waistband of the black panties, tugging them down her legs while discarding of them somewhere on the floor.

Spencer was delving right in, eating her as if she was his last meal and he was a starved man, the way Y/N’s whines and cries making his cock stand at attention. However it wasn’t long until he was pulling away, tongue paying attention to her throbbing clit while two of his long fingers were being pushed into her without warning.

Her pussy was clenching around the digits, her back arching off of their sheets as she was blabbing her own praises, even if she wasn’t making too much sense because she was a sobbing mess as she could feel those long fingers curling.

Her hands were still bound, grabbing onto her own wrist, although she’d rather have her fingers in Spencer’s hair and being able to shove his face against her more. However, it was all crashing down when Spencer was pulling away, the male chuckling as his girlfriend was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She was desperate for relief.

“Shh.. I know.” The male chuckled, now getting off his shirt, shedding his slacks as well before his boxers were the last to go. He was getting situated, his hands wrapping her shaking legs around his waist while he was spitting onto her already soaked pussy, the tip of his cock teasing her desperate cunt by spreading the sit around as if she needed to be lubed up.

“Alright, angel. Are you ready for my cock or do you need my fingers a little longer?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. Even in his state, he’d always ask before going too crazy. Last thing he needed was to hurt her.

“Cock!” Y/N blabbed immediately, eyes glossed over while her hips were rolling in an attempt to get some sort of friction, clenching around nothing as she was left to lay there helpless.

“Answer any faster, why don’t you? Someone is eager..” Spencer chuckled, however he was getting quite desperate himself. So, he wasn’t wasting time before his cock was pushing into her cunt, his head falling on her shoulder while he let out a low groan.

Y/N was letting out a drawn out moan, a few whimpers following after. There was always a delicious stretch, the pleasurable pain having her squirming and trying to push herself against his cock for more, the only thing stopping her was a strong hand on her hip.

“Patience. I’ll pull out right now and cum on your stomach and leave you here to squirm. You know better than this.” He warned, his voice low as he kissed the spot under her ear.

Feeling his rock hard cock stretching and stuffing her felt beyond amazing and she loved it. Once he was bottoming out, Spencer wasted no time in beginning to ram his cock into his girlfriend.

The feeling of her velvety, plushy walls was always enough to drive him insane. It was like she was made for him, not even just her body but her as a person. She complimented him so well and he did the same with her. It was safe to say that she was his person. Emphasis on his.

The sinful sounds of skin slapping against each other and the moans, whimpers and cries from Y/N were filling the once quiet bedroom. Their neighbors hated them enough, Spencer could already hear the complaints from the woman next door. She’d already made several noise complaints in the past, which Y/N would joke with Spencer that it was because she hadn’t been touched in a good thirty years. What a life that would be.

Spencer kept up his steady, relentless thrusts. His goal was always to have Y/N cum first, mainly because the mere sight of her creaming around his cock was enough to make him explode. “Sp-Sp.. I-I… C-Cu-“ That was all he got out of her before he knew exactly what she was trying to convey judging by the way her cunt squeeze tightly around him, a cry leaving her lips as she was doing hitting her orgasm, her back arching off the mattress as her nails were digging into her wrists.

“Fuck!” She cried, Spencer giving a few more sloppy thrusts before long ropes of his sticky cum were beautifully decorating her inner walls, his thrusts fucking it deeper into her while he was slowly coming down from his own high.

Y/N was in full orgasmic bliss, her face flushed, her eyes glossed over, her once neatly done makeup running down her face as well as her face being all over the place. She was fully fucked out, making Spencer lean down and press a few loving kisses against her lips before he was pulling out and pushing himself to stand.

He disappeared off to the bathroom for a few moments, getting a warm bath ready for his girlfriend before heading back to the bedroom, a soft hum leaving his lips as he was carefully picking up his tired, fucked out partner.

“There we go. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He breathed, the woman letting her arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. She was still in the stage where she was crashing down from her high, so he was placing her gently in the warm tub before grabbing a washcloth.

As he was washing his girlfriend, he was looking up at her face once he could see the content smile on her face. “Hi,” He whispered, the two sharing a little giggle amongst each other. “Hi.” Y/N responded, leaning over to press a kiss against her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I hope you know, I might be flirting with more people more often if this is the outcome.” She joked, making Spencer laugh.

“Like hell you are.”

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voiceofdragons · 7 months ago

Text

Danny With the Street

150,000 people die every day on average. On average, 385,000 people are born on that same day. Thats 535,000 souls made and unmade every day. Some peacefully at the end of a life lived, either fulfilled or not, and some tragically and early. Some even die the same day they are born. 535,000 people. 385,000 births, 150,000 deaths. These, however, are simply the averages. No one living can get the exact numbers, and they’d change daily regardless, so that data would be of no real use.

That’s only humans though. Those numbers are dwarfed in comparison to the averages for animal life, and the less said about plant life the better for our collective migraine. Still, that is no small amount of people. For the number of deaths, you’d get a population somewhere between the size of Kiribati and Guam. For the births it would be between Iceland and Guadalupe. The combined number puts you at Malta.

You have probably never even seen that many people in person before. And that is not even a percentage of a percentage of the worlds population. 535,000 is not barely a drop in the bucket. This number is important to Danny, for the simple fact that you can figure out a lot of interesting things regarding ghosts with it. He’d pestered a few of the Observants, when they weren’t trying to literally get him out of their picture, with a bunch of questions a curious 14 year old would want answers to.

Some were not answered, in typical Observant fashion, but they’d given him an interesting answer to the question “how many people even become ghosts”.

“The rate changes day to day, but we’ve figured out that its normally 1 ghost out of however many are born and day in a day added together.” This particular Observant then proceed to ramble on about how smart they were for figuring it out, how much better off the universe was for having them watching over things, blah blah blah.

Even if the rate changes, it doesn’t change drastically enough to ruin the precise and exacting science of guestimating things. If its one in 535,000, but only 150,000 die a day, then that means its somewhere between 3 and 4 days to get a new ghost. Their reasons for lingering were there own, and were often normal. And then there were the fruitloops that he dealt with so often that it was kind of starting to get old. The ghosts were getting easier to handle most days though, especially after he helped lock up Pariah Dark again. Who knew making their dimension safer would make them hate him a bit less?

And these days his biggest headache was that government agency that had temporarily bought Fentonworks to try and nuke the ghost zone. They’d failed, but still tried their hardest to make his life miserable.

Case in point; they were in the living room with his parents. Talking about Phantom. Specifically about some ‘concerning’ footage of him they’d been able to record of the ‘ectolasmic scum’. He was hiding invisible on the stairs, his mom and dad on the couch with two familiar white suited dingbats standing across from them. They had placed a tablet on the coffee table, a video taking its sweet time loading.

“As interesting as i’m sure this video is, would either of you gentlemen like to see some of our latest projects?” his mom said, clearly growing bored as the video took yet another minute to load. Thank goodness ghosts effected technology the way they did, clearly whatever film they’d taken was hard on their systems. Mom picked back up with “we’ve been experimenting with some new ‘ecto-electrolysis metal plating’ its a lengthy process, but the results are-” suddenly the video started to play, cutting her off. Danny leaned forward to get a better look, and froze. It wasn’t Phantom.

It was normal, human looking Danny Fenton. Walking down the street. The same one that Johnny and Kitty had gone racing down last thursday. Suddenly a familiar looking mist pooled out of his lips, and the screen started to glitch and lag a bit, but he remembered what happened next. He’d look around the empty street, not see anyone, and then-.

“Going Ghost!” his familiar catchphrase came from the tablet, and the glitching stopped. And Danny Fenton was no longer on the screen. All the glitching had coalesced on a single point on the screen, exactly where he’d been standing, making it clear there was a ghost in the footage. Then another blob of corrupted screen appeared streaking down the street, and the first one sped off after it.

The video stopped, and his parents were frozen. His dad reached for the tablet, and restarted the video. The catchphrase, the mist, the glitching, and his disappearance. His parents replayed the video about five more times before his mom shakily flipped the tablet face down. His dad hugged gripped her shoulders as she brought her still shaking hands up to her face.

“We understand that this must be difficult for you both, but it is imperative for state security and research that you assist us with the capture and containment of the entity.” the agent on the left spoke softly, clearly trying to be gentle, but it brought no comfort to anyone in the room, least of all Danny.

“This is not simply difficult!” his dad said forcefully. “This is our son, and you’ve just told us-” his dad stood up and started pacing, clearly distraught. After a minute of pacing he slumped back onto the couch. Mom sniffed and rubbed her face down before bringing her hands to her lap. Her next words were enough to make Danny freeze in shock and terror.

“He’s upstairs in his room.” dad turned to look at her, shocked was an understated descriptor for his face. Danny stood up still invisible and made his way up to his room. He had to leave before anyone came for him. He just barely heard her continue. “I’m going to lock down the house so he can’t get out, but just to be safe you should go outside in case he somehow gets out.” he didn’t hear the agents respond, or his dad.

Once in his room he grabbed one of his notebooks and wrote a quick message to leave for Jazz. ‘GIW told mom and dad i’m phantom, had to leave the house, i’ll be with a friend, i’ll call.’ he then slipped it under her door and then phased through the ceiling just in time to see the familiar ghost shields surround the building. The agents were by their van, arms crossed, and Danny flew off in the direction of tuckers house, tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

Landing at the corner of Tucker’s street he rubbed his eyes to clear them before walking toward his best friends house. The wave of relief he felt when the house came in view was quickly squashed by the sight of a familiar white van, and two white suits talking to Tucker's parents on the porch. Staying invisible he flew off again for Sam’s house. When he didn’t see a white van outside he was relieved.

He was less relieved to see none of the lights were on and their car was gone, meaning the whole family was out at the moment. Still floating he decided to fly to the Nasty Burger, deciding to wait there until one of his friends or for Jazz to go there looking for him.It was when he was flying past Caspar High when he saw something that gave him reason to pause.

There was a new street there that hadn’t been there yesterday. The buildings were brightly colored, and there were people mulling about wearing clothes he’d never seen anyone in Amity Park wearing. Getting closer, he expected the usual white mist that meant a ghost was nearby, knowing that in a town like Amity, anything weird was probably ghost related. There was nothing. He landed, still invisible and walked quietly down the street, deciding to see where things went.

The multi-colored buildings turned out to be a hardware store, a military surplus hut, and a bunch of other places you wouldn’t expect to be in pastel pinks and purples. Reaching the middle of the street was a building dubbed ‘Peeping Tom’s Perpetual Cabaret’ all done up in bright flashing lights, music leaking out onto the street from inside.

In short, this place seemed awesome, and as soon as he was able to reach Sam or Tucker he was bringing them here. He passed more fun looking stores, and some more adult stores that he knew he was too young for on his way to the end of the street closest to the Nasty Burger, and he stopped when he saw the street sign.

‘Danny St’.

“Well that’s weird” he said, still invisible.

A cloud of steam popped up from a nearby sewer grate with a sound almost like a gasp, and strangely enough it turned into a series of exclamation points and question marks.

“Also weird,” a fluttering sound behind him made him turn to see a pile of leaves spell out ‘says the invisible boy’. Danny took a step away from the pile, waiting for the mist that meant a ghost was nearby. It didn’t come. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a ghost.

Deciding that questions would be an alright distraction from the nightmare his day became he asked, “Who are you?” and another noise from behind him, this time a metallic squeaking. When he looked it was the street sign rotating around. He laughed, and turned back to the pile of leaves, only it was the sign on the window that responded this time, changing its arrangement to ask ‘what’s so funny feele?’.

“My name is also Danny.” deciding to trust the talking street, he stopped being invisible. The steam from before came again, just exclamation points this time though. A rustling sound had him turning right where a banner unfurled to declare ‘Neat Trick Twinsie!’ making Danny laugh. Deciding to ask a few more questions, he walked over to a conveniently placed bench across from a pawn shop.

“You’re not a ghost are you?” he asked, and the pawn shop window grew a question mark. “Oh, right, you’re new in town, considering I didn't see you here yesterday.” waving his hand around Danny continued. “Welcome to Amity Park, the most haunted city in America. My first thought when weird things happen here is it’s a ghost doing something, and I've seen a lot of weird.” The window proclaimed ‘ooooooh’ before another sound had him turning his head left. This time a cafe menu board said ‘Not a ghost, but are you?’

Danny clapped his hands as he said, “Half points Danny, thank you for playing!” the question mark came back so he elaborated. “I’m only half ghost, all the abilities of ghostliness, still alive and kicking.” he then smirked as some word play popped into his head. “Kicking all the other ghosts butts for messing with the town.” he then remembered his current problem, and slumped backwards, his view of his new… friend? Acquaintance? Friend, suddenly flipped.

“Or I did at least.” he sighed. “No idea what i’m supposed to do now, got some fruitloop government ghostbusters after me, and they just told my parents! Who are also ghost hunters!” from his upside down view he saw more letters rearrange across the street, but he didn’t want to parse out what Danny had said. “I was going to go wait for some friends before I spotted you, try to figure things out.” he sat up and turned around, not wanting to ignore a message. ‘Thats rough buddy.’ his face split into a grin. “Its just my luck that the same day all these bad things happen, I also meet a new friend with impeccable taste in memes!” he stood up and stretched, feeling a bit less panicked. “I’m going to go meet with them, but can i bring them back to see you? They’d love your… everything!” the banner from before flipped over ‘that would be dolly Danny! Bona to Vada!’ this was starting to remind him of when he first met Wulf, and learned of the wonders of Esperanto. A fun new dialect was just the distraction he needed.

Waving at the street, a few of the people walking around waved back, even though he hadn’t spoken to any of them. A flag flapped aggressively in a nonexistent wind, and his smile stayed on his face as he turned invisible again and flying off to the Nasty Burger.

It had only been thirty minutes since his parents found out, but his anxiety made it all feel like seconds ago as he sat there waiting. Five o'clock approached and a familiar face walked in, though not one of the ones he’d been waiting for. Valerie was starting her closing shift in ten minutes, and Danny was sitting at a booth waiting for Tucker, Sam, or Jazz. she put her bag behind the counter and slit to the opposite side of his booth.

“Why so antsy ghost face?” Valerie asked with her arms crossed. Their situationship had been weird for a while since she’d found out he was half ghost, but things had been improving lately since her dad got a new job. Guess most of her aggression had been stress induced.

“So… My parents found out i’m a ghost. The Guys in White told them, I had to leave the house, and when I went to Tucker’s house they were there too, Sam wasn’t home, and now I’m waiting for either one of them, or Jazz to come find me so i can figure out the shipwreck my life has become!” the floodgates had opened and he’d word vomited everything to his frenemy, and then promptly face planted into the table.

She visibly blue screened for about ten seconds before she reached over and patted his head. “That’s rough buddy.” he glared up at her for all of two second before snorting a despondent laugh. She joined in and after a few seconds of laughing together he leaned back, smiling a bit more easily since the anxiety had claimed him five seconds into waiting.

“You are not the first person who’s said those exact words to me tonight! I should start collecting nickels, I probably won’t get more than two but it's weird that it’s happened twice!” she didn’t laugh at that, tilting her head in an unspoken question. “You are not going to believe this, but on my way here I found a new street by Caspar High. Just there, new buildings, decorations, the whole shebang!” he flared his fingers out to emphasize the point. “I was invisible, but when I saw the street was called ‘Danny St’ I had to say something. And it started talking back, kinda.”

“That’s a load of bull-” she started before he waved his hands to cut her off.

“Val, after half the stuff we’ve dealt with since my parents opened the portal, is this really too much for you to believe?” she raised a finger and took a breath before closing her mouth and lowering her hand. They’d dealt with a lot of wacky nonsense.

“Valid, but I won’t believe it until I see it. What kind of ghost looks like a whole street?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“That’s the thing! They weren’t a ghost, I would know! When I asked, they didn’t know what I meant. Had to explain kinda about Amity Park being the most haunted town in America.” This time he crossed his arms, leaning back to look out the window, hoping for a familiar red hat, or someone dressed in all black and purple.

Valerie stood up suddenly, and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry this happened to you Danny. My shift is starting, so I’ll make you some fries while you wait. If you’re here till closing, mind showing me this magic street you found?" It was nice having her be this friendly with him again, and he grinned and gave a thumbs up.

“Sure thing!” he said, before the doors burst open and four men in white suits rushed in, guns aimed at him. He shoved Valerie out of the way and went intangible through the wall to the outside. He then went invisible and rushed as fast as he could over the buildings.

He was passing the new, and brightly colored Danny St when he felt a sharp pain in his side, and smelled burning flesh and ectoplasm. Losing control of his abilities amidst the pain, he crashed into the side of a building before flopping onto the street. Looking up he heard loud music and saw the word ‘Tom’s’ visible on the part of the sign he could see. A crowd started to form, but he was too dazed to understand what most of them were saying. A pretty face popped out of the crowd and bent down to check on him. She was tall, dark skinned, in a glittery outfit with big hair.

“Kid, are you ok? How did you fall?” she was checking him over for any open wounds, but he was to dazed to do much. He heard tires squealing in the distance, and knew that the people chasing him were going to be here soon. He didn’t want anyone hurting his new friend, the talking street, or the people that were just now worrying for his wellbeing.

“I need to go, the Guys in White are after me!” he tried to stand but the woman placed her forearm across his chest to keep him from doing more than sitting up. She turned her head, listening to the squealing as well, before she focused back on him.

“Who are the ‘Guys in White’?” she asked, very seriously.

Danny tried to phase through her arm to stand but the pain in his side made it hard to focus, so he gritted his teeth and kept trying as he responded. “Government sponsored ghostbusting fruitloops, now please let me go they don’t care about collateral damage!”

The woman sighed and closed her eyes for half a second before she turned to look at a few people in the crowd. “You heard the kid, we got government on our tale! Danny, we need to leave.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do lady!” Danny said, while at the same time one of the store signs changed from advertising fatigue leotards, to saying ‘Time to scarper!’

“Was talking to Danny, kid.” she said distractedly.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” he retorted, his head starting to hurt and the burn on his side starting to throb dully.

She laughed, a short, loud burst of amusement before she told him pointedly, “Oh you’ll fit right in kiddo!” and that’s the last he heard before a wave of vertigo took over his senses, the buildings and sky around him twisting and folding impossibly, and he leaned over to dry heave and then pass out.

“Jack, we need to hurry before those agents find him!” Madeline Fenton said from the passenger seat as they approached Caspar High. As soon as they realized that Danny had left the house they’d begun their search, especially vigorous due to the agents also on the prowl. They’d seen some agents leaving Nasty Burger and firing wildly into the air, and they’d seen one of the shots land on something invisible.

And then they’d seen their son materialize and plummet thirty feet to land a few streets over near his high school. Jack was driving them there, and that alone was enough to get the agents to pause on their way to their vans. Small blessings. When they neared the high school though they saw something odd.

“Honey, am I crazy or was that street not there last week?” Jack said as they approached.

“I don’t think that matters right now dear.” she rescinded, though it was bugging her as well. She knew they tended to get a bit focused on their work, but that work often took them out on the town. She would have seen something of a new street before now, especially with such charming looking stores.

“Theres people milling about, maybe one of them saw him!” Jack pointed out, her wonderful optimist.

“Lets hope! We need to get him back to the lab to check him for injuries, after that we need to game plan keeping him safe.” she looked down at her lap, her jumpsuit a comforting familiarity. “He’s Phantom. He’s been Phantom this whole time! Oh he must have been so frightened.” Jack parked the GAV and reached over to squeeze her shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Our kid is a tough one, and just as brave as his mother. Lets get him safe and we’ll figure it all out.” he unbuckled himself, then reached over to undo hers for her. They both stepped outside and as they turned to look down this new street they saw something that made them take a breath of equal parts relief and terror. They saw Danny lying prone with a crowd of people clearly trying to help him. He would be fine.

And then, just before they could step foot on the pavement of the street, everything sort of shifted and folded, the other streets stretching to fill in the space being left behind as the street they were now desperately reaching for vanished. The last thing they saw was their sun jerk to the side, several people trying to help him, and then both he, and the mysterious new street vanished.

#dc x dp #danny the street #danny fenton #fanfic #good parents jack and maddie #miscommunication #guys in white #on the run #hurt/comfort

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in1-nutshell · 3 months ago

Note

Well first off we now need IDW Steve because you have to pry Ophelia and Steve out of my cold dead hands.

I haven't read anything about IDW Steve (if there is any) so this Steve is my interpretation of the bot.

Will also be referring to this Ophelia and Steve for MTMTE.

Hope you enjoy!

MTMTE Steve meets MTMTE Ophelia

SFW, Platonic, Hinted Romance, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Like many other Cybertronians, Steve just wanted a fresh start in life.

With the ending of the war, the former con didn’t really know what to do and there was no way he was going to stay on Cybertron as it was.

Either being on the same planet as Prowl or going on a definitely ‘real’ quest to find some mystic knights.

The knights sounded much more pleasant than Prowl.

Steve knew for a fact there were still great prejudices between bots and cons.

He wasn’t blind to the glares and snide remarks behind his back.

Thankfully, Drift helped make settling onto the ship much easier.

Drift and Steve walking down the hall. Steve: “Thanks again for helping me Drift. I can never get directions the first time.” Drift: “No problem. I’m heading to Swerve’s with some of the others, care to join?” Steve: “Maybe next time—” Steve suddenly spots a large bot talking to Rodimus. A very familiar looking bot. The bot momentarily looks up at the pair, smiles, then waves. Steve absent mindedly waves back. The larger bot walks with Rodimus to Swerve’s. Steve: “You know what, Rung did say something about meeting new bots. Count me in Drift!”

Steve didn’t really know why this larger bot seemed to be occupying so much of his thoughts.

It was… strange.

Maybe it was because he met only a few bots that large.

It took a while for him to actually begin to talk to her.

To his surprise, she was a friendly bot.

Soon enough the pair began hanging out around random places in the ship.

From meeting rooms, to Swerve’s, to in between work.

It was nice.

What was not nice was how Steve found out she was a minibot.

Steve opens the medbay carrying a box of medical datapads. Steve: “Ambulon? I brought the extra data pads you asked for.” He stares at Ratchet and First Aid, both with their servos inside a grey frame of ‘Ophelia’. Steve dropped the box and screamed. Ambulon quickly came to the screaming bot. Steve: “AAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Ambulon: “Steve! Steve, calm down!” Steve: “CALM DOWN!? CALM DOWN!? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER!? WHAT—” Ophelia walks into the medbay with a couple of energon cubes. Ophelia: “Ratchet they didn’t have your usual. I asked Drift if you liked any other drink, so I…” Ophelia looks at the scene in front of her. Steve was staring at her, wide optic; Ambulon had both his servos holding said bot still; Ratchet had a welder in one servo while First Aid still had his servos in her mech suit. Ophelia: “… Am I missing something?” THUD! Ophelia: “OH SWEET PRIMUS! STEVE!” Ophelia hurries over to the unconscious mech’s side. Ophelia: “What in the Allspark happened?!”

Yeah, it took a bit to explain her mech suit and why she put it on.

At least, what she told most bots.

It was hard being at war and being so small on a team known for taking heavy hits.

The suit helped not only her, but her team.

Steve had to take a few minutes to properly understand that this minibot that barely made it past his knee joint was the same bot who arm wrestled Whirl for a free drink (that she gave to him after she won).

Just wait until he finds out about Minimus Ambus…

Steve often finds himself questioning how the Autobots won the war, seeing how dysfunctional they are.

But then again, the Decepticon’s weren’t better off either.

It takes a bit for Steve to get used to seeing Ophelia outside the suit, that meaning stop looking up but down, but he didn’t mind it too much.

Ophelia was still the nice, friendly, kind, and pretty—

Did he say pretty?

Pretty small!

Yes, she was pretty small…

Ophelia and Steve are walking down the halls when the halls start getting crowded with larger bots. Steve looks down to see Ophelia slowing down a bit from having to weave through the number of bots pedes. Steve: “I can carry you.” Ophelia: “What?” Steve: “I mean, so we don’t have to slow do—OW!” A bot had accidentally pushed Steve back. Steve waited to feel the harsh ground connect to his helm. It never came. Instead, he felt a pair of smaller servos on his back. Ophelia was holding him and walking like he weighed nothing! Ophelia starts walking with the crowd. Ophelia: “Maybe we should get back to the classroom and wait until everyone leaves. That way we don’t have bots trying to step on us or push us out of the way because who-knows-what.” Ophelia notices his stare. Ophelia: “1 percenter. You don’t weigh a thing.” Steve still in awestruck: “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Ophelia laughs at the comment. Ophelia: “Trust me Steve, you haven’t even scratched the surface yet.”

And he believes it.

Steve just knows that there’s something Ophelia isn’t sharing with him.

Something big.

But he’ll wait for the time to come, he isn’t in a hurry after all.

It was a couple of days after the percenter reveal that Steve sat up at three in the morning realizing he did, in fact, had a crush on Ophelia.

He doesn’t know how to properly go through this.

So many ‘what if’ scenarios go through his processor.

What if he confessed?

What if she said no?

What if she said yes?

What if she wanted an Amica instead?

In all his years in the war and now post war, Ophelia, the minibot powerhouse, was the reason his spark started up like a speedster on circuit boosters.

The reason he started getting out of his room earlier.

The reason he ‘borrowed’ Rodimus’s buffer from time to time (He put it back when the captain was training with Drift).

Steve, all buffed and shiny, enters Swerve’s. He spots Ophelia, out of the suit, happily chatting with Chromedome. Steve waving: “Hey—” Whirl suddenly gets in front of him. Whirl: “And where do you think you’re going?” Steve: “I’m just going to Ophelia—” Whirl: “And what?” Steve getting a bit confused and annoyed: “I just want to talk—” WHAM! Steve gets hit in the face and stumbles onto a table, that flipped on top of him. Whirl: “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” Ophelia turns to the sudden sound of glass shattering and screeching metal. Ophelia: “Steve!” A while later… Steve winces a bit as Ratchet fixes his injuries. Ophelia is sitting in a seat next to his medslab with a worried look on her face. Ophelia: “So he just punched you?” Steve: “Essentially… but that’s Whirl.” Whirl on a nearby medslab: “And I’d do it again!” Ratchet: “Both of you hush!” Steve winces again. Ophelia immediately grabs his servo in support. Ophelia: “You’ll be okay Steve. Ratchet’s the best in the business. Just take a nap, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Steve doesn’t hear that last comment, just focuses on his servo slightly dwarfing her servo. He catches from the corner of his optic Whirl glaring at him before... winking? …Maybe Steve could use that nap…

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #mtmte x platonic reader #mtmte x reader #mtmte ophelia #ophelia #mtmte steve

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fanfoolishness · 6 months ago

Text

A New Fascination

Tech isn't sure why Phee fascinates him so, but when she tells him about an intriguing creature by the shore, he takes a chance to further investigate things. Fluff, the teensiest hurt/comfort, long conversations, and several firsts all wrapped in a bow; TechPhee and a little bit on Tech & Crosshair. Canon-compliant, set after Pabu. 8100 words.

---

Tech sat in the boughs of the great weeping maya tree, recording sounds. Omega’s morning flying lesson had been bracing, her inexperience and bravado combined nearly enough to cause him to ponder his own mortality, and now that they were safely back on solid ground he thought he would focus on less potentially deadly pursuits.

He always cataloged new sounds as he came across them, but the challenge came in when they were layered and stacked and interlaced with each other. Wingbeats of the fluttering jeweled finches were swallowed up by the sounds of their vocalizations, mixed with rustling leaves and the voices and footsteps of passersby. His datapad did a fine job of sorting things on a cursory level, but it often required manual input for greatest accuracy. Up here, higher above the colonnade, the sounds were crisper and easier to parse.

He had pleasantly lost himself in this pursuit for some time when a voice broke through his focus.

“Didn’t take you for much of a climber, Brown Eyes.”

He lifted the visor up with its stream of data, peering down at her through his goggles, the leaves, and the afternoon shadows. She stood ten feet below, shading her eyes and gazing up at him.

“It is the best area from which to collect direct recordings of the local avians. The jeweled finches, particularly.”

She sat on the large bough beneath him, grinning. “Sure you don’t want to listen to them from down here?”

Tech frowned. The recordings would contain more interference and ambient sound the further away he was from the canopy the birds frequented. However, coming down would provide a better opportunity for conversing with Phee. And Phee was fascinating in her own right.

He paused. He had not yet determined why Phee so fascinated him, but she did. His initial hypothesis had been that her treasure hunting, or “liberation” as she colorfully put it, required a wide subset of skills, an ability to quickly adapt, and a nimble intelligence. That was certainly part of it. But he had met many intelligent and skilled people throughout the galaxy, his brothers, certain reg clones, people like Romar, and none of them had inspired this type of interest from him before.

He had considered pheromones as a possible trigger, though human pheromones were significantly weaker and less effective than those of many other species. He could not discount them, though, or how else could he explain the way he enjoyed being near her for no apparent reason?

“You coming?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said determinedly, climbing down. He sat beside her and she gave him a bright smile, tilting her head to one side. It was a smile that was full, easy, beaming. It was new, having such a smile frequently directed at him, but it was… very nice.

Of course, he had also considered the fact that she was objectively beautiful. Warm brown eyes, a musical laugh, luxurious hair, a sleek and strong figure… he was not blind to these things, and appreciated them as he would any source of beauty. He simply wasn’t used to appreciating beauty in the form of a curious and clever person who seemed to appreciate him, too.

Perhaps that was why he always felt slightly off-kilter near her.

His datapad chimed, finishing its collation of data. He took off his helmet and set it beside him, then hunched his shoulders to get a better look at the screen. He needed to sort the information he had gathered before it became less fresh in his mind.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, scooting closer so that she could lean over his shoulder, nearly touching him. His heart beat more quickly.

“Samples of the finches, separated out from the sounds of the weeping maya, the wind, and the marketplace,” Tech said. “I find it engrossing work.”

“What are you saving the recordings for?”

“For?” Tech pondered the question. While there had been times his recordings had been extremely helpful on missions - Skako Minor came to mind as a particularly memorable instance - most of the time the data was simply stored, saved carefully where it could be retrieved at a moment’s notice. “I enjoy collecting sounds. It could be considered a hobby.”

Phee chuckled, apparently surprised by his statement. “I like that. Everyone needs a hobby. And I, of all people, understand collecting things.” She looked out at the busy marketplace, concentrating as if listening. “You know, Pabu’s got its share of interesting wildlife. Do you like nature sounds the most? Or any sounds?”

“All sounds are interesting,” said Tech, raising his eyes from his datapad to look over at her briefly. She was looking at him with curiosity, her full attention focused on him. He quickly turned back to his datapad. “Machinery generates patterns that can easily form a type of music. Battle sounds are both highly varied and highly predictable, depending on the situation. Natural sounds provide some of the most unique samples, though. Animals with different vocal apparatuses and anatomy can produce a nearly infinite variety of sounds. Some are not even made with mouths. Have you ever heard the sound of a winnowing wood-snipe from Batuu?”

“No, I can’t say that I have. I’ve been to Batuu a few times, but only to the outpost,” Phee said. “It wasn’t exactly crawling with wood-snipes, whatever those are.”

Tech quickly found the pertinent file and played it. Ghostly, high-pitched twittering emitted from the datapad in waves. Phee looked intrigued.

“That wasn’t an animal call?”

“No. It was created by small, uniquely-shaped feathers at the base of the bird’s tail. When soaring and diving, the airflow creates these noises,” said Tech. Reading of the bird’s description beforehand had not fully prepared him for the startling nature of its sounds. “There are thousands of such examples of unique adaptations across the galaxy.”

“Hey, now that’s all right,” Phee said, nodding, clearly impressed. “I would’ve never guessed that wasn’t a song. Not sure there’s anything quite like that here, but there’s still some interesting wildlife, especially down near the shore. I remember Shep telling me about some creature that sings near the caves. Want me to get some more info and get back to you?”

Tech paused. She did not need to bother herself. “I could also ask Shep, if you are busy.” It did sound interesting.

“Suit yourself,” Phee said, “but I don’t mind asking as a favor.” She smiled again, then clapped a hand against his shoulder. Her touch was brief, but electric.

Ah. She wants to do it. He nodded, not wishing to discourage her. “If you would like to find out more information, I… would be grateful.”

Another of those bright, beaming smiles. He tried one back, though it was nowhere near as wide and carefree. She nodded, looking pleased. “I’m on the case.” She swung her legs off the bough, slipping back down to the ground, and waved goodbye. “See you around, Brown Eyes.”

---

She found him the next morning attempting to clean up after some much-needed repairs to the Marauder. Another flying lesson with Omega had been… bracing. He sat amidst a pile of spanners and tools, covered in engine grease, sorting the tools to put away when he wasn’t distracted by the sounds of the finches. There was a new vocalization he could hear -- perhaps young birds begging to be fed -- and he had left his datapad inside. He switched on the auxiliary recording function on his goggles, making a note to import and analyze the sounds later.

“In the middle of something, I see. Those flying lessons out there looked a little rough this morning,” Phee said, casting an eye over the tools strewn around him.

“Omega is still mastering the concept of incline control,” Tech said. “It’s creating some extra wear and tear on the engine, but nothing I cannot repair.”

“Never doubted that.” She dropped down to squat beside him, idly picking up a spanner. “That’s a solid one.”

“Standard Republic issue. I have since seen some of the Imperial repair kits, and they are inferior, clearly turned out quickly to keep costs down.”

“Sounds like the Empire all over,” Phee said, sighing. “Quantity over quality. I guess you’d know all about that.”

Tech nodded. The Empire had discarded the clones similarly, of course.

“So, I talked to Shep about this creature. He said it’s something the people here call a sea ghost.”

Tech made a face. “A rather whimsical name.”

“Not much for whimsy?” Phee asked, looking amused by his response.

“It is not remotely descriptive,” Tech complained. “Is it mammalian? Avian? Some type of cartilaginous or bony fish? ‘Sea ghost’ does not give us any indication as to what kind of creature could be expected.”

“Well, I’m guessing it lives by the sea with a name like that,” Phee laughed.

Tech gave her a look. She had him there.

“He said it lives down near the northwest cove, whatever it is,” she continued. “It goes out to sea sometimes but often comes back to sing in the caves. He said its song is supposed to be hauntingly beautiful. Hence the ‘ghost.’”

“If it sings in the caves, it may be taking advantage of the area’s natural acoustics,” Tech mused. “Is it sentient?”

“Not exactly, I think. More like a wise animal is how he described it. People here used to tell stories about it, long ago.”

Tech wiped his hands off on his thighs, smearing the fabric with oil as he got to his feet. “Well, I am game to search for this creature if you are. Give me a few moments to gather these up and we may go.” Hunter’s intense aggravation the last time Tech had left his repair work for later would be an irritating way to start such a promising day, and he had no intention of letting that distraction interfere.

“You want me to come?” Phee asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly smile. “Not Shep? He’s actually seen it, you know.”

“Shep may be best suited to finding the creature,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. “But I am asking you because I would like for you to be there.”

He hoped he had not miscalculated. He thought that it was what Phee had been intending all along, that this would be a time for the two of them to be alone during an enjoyable and interesting activity, but for a moment, he was unsure. It was one thing to calculate his own thoughts, responses, plans. It was quite another to attempt to guess what Phee might desire. He swallowed, watching her closely, hoping he had read the situation appropriately --

She grinned. “Why, Brown Eyes, I thought you’d never ask.”

---

They took the winding stairs down to the beach, passing islanders as they went. Several nodded or said hello to Phee, and a few said hello to him as well, perhaps remembering their efforts from the night of the sea surge a few weeks ago. Tech nodded to them as they passed, surprised they remembered him. He commented on it to Phee.

“You and your brothers don’t exactly blend in,” she said. “You might all be clones, but here you’re the new kids in town, and that makes you easy to remember.”

“I suppose that would be the case in a place with a relatively small population,” Tech said. “It is still unexpected.”

They rounded a corner and ran into Hunter, Wrecker and Omega, carrying woven bags of foodstuffs and supplies. “Tech! Phee!” Omega said. “We’re going to try some new recipes for lunch. Are you coming back up?”

“Recipes?” Tech asked. “None of us has ever shown any aptitude at cooking.”

“We’re going to try,” Hunter said heavily. He appeared dismayed at the prospect. “Wrecker’s promised to eat anything that goes horribly wrong.”

“It’ll be a sacrifice, but I’ll make it happen,” Wrecker said. He narrowed his eyes, looking between Phee and Tech. “You two going somewhere?”

“Phee has informed me there is a creature with an unusual song that visits near the beach,” said Tech. “We are going to investigate.”

A wide, eager smile stole over Wrecker’s face, and he was about to speak until Hunter elbowed him subtly in the side. He closed his mouth again. “Uh, that sounds nice,” he said.

Tech was certain that had not been what he was originally going to say.

“Good luck,” Hunter said, giving them an odd look that Tech did not know how to interpret. “If there’s leftovers later, you’re welcome to try them.”

“But Hunter,” Omega asked, “wouldn’t you be able to help them track the creature?”

Hunter paused, searching for words. “Ah, they don’t need my help, Omega. And I promised I’d help you with this recipe of yours. They’ll be fine without us.”

“We appreciate the vote of confidence,” Phee said. “Bye, boys. See you, Omega.”

“Bye, Phee! Bye, Tech!”

Phee and Tech continued down the stairs. “That’s cute,” Phee said.

“What is?”

“Wrecker wanting to tease you about me, and Hunter trying to play it cool,” she laughed. “Reminds me of my cousins growing up. They used to tease each other mercilessly. Especially if there was a boy or girl involved.”

“Wrecker often attempts jokes at my expense,” said Tech. “Though… this is certainly the first time a ‘girl’ has been involved.” He felt a flicker of warmth in his cheeks, that funny sense of being wrongfooted that he seemed to only feel around Phee.

“I thought that might be the case,” Phee said. She turned to him, laying a hand on his arm and keeping him from descending the next flight of steps. “Look, Tech -- I think it’s clear we like each other. Right?” One of those warm, sunny smiles again. He nodded at her, feeling slightly lightheaded. “But if this is all new to you, I don’t mind taking our time, you know? You’re worth doing this right.”

His mouth seemed incredibly dry. With a great effort he swallowed, managing to find enough saliva to speak again. “I -- I will take that under advisement.”

Phee snorted. “Glad to hear it.” She nodded towards the last set of stairs. “Come on, we’re nearly there. Let’s go find this ghost.”

---

The path to the cove was hidden and cunning, half-covered by tidewaters or stretches of exposed seagrass. Tech thought that even Hunter would have had a difficult time picking his way through the stretches of rocks, sand and shallow water. Phee led him through a narrow cleft in the rocky wall, both of them forced to turn to the side and creep through, hands scraping the rocky surface. At one point Phee’s hand brushed his, and she paused for an instant before she pressed forward once more, to Tech’s disappointment. He would have liked it had her hand lingered.

She led him around a bend and a large pool of gently lapping waves, sheltered from the main beach, lay before them. Beyond that Tech could see the entrance to a cave, carved out from the rocky walls as if by invisible hands. Phee stared appraisingly at the pool.

“We’re going to have to wade for it,” she said. “Shep said with most low tides this water’s receded, but some are lower than others. Guess we got lucky.”

Tech nodded, sitting down in the sand to pull off his boots. While they were water resistant, they had not been designed for complete submersion, and he did not relish the idea of walking the return path in soaked boots and footwear. That had been troublesome enough after the underground river on Ipsidon.

He peeled off his socks and rolled up his blues to his knees. At least his datapad was waterproof, so that would not be a problem.

Phee pulled off her own boots, then removed her jacket and blouse, revealing a skin tight sleeveless shirt in a pretty blue color. She folded up her clothing and stuffed it into the bag she had brought. He gazed at her bare shoulders, her toned arms, the curve of her breasts and waist, until he heard the sound of a throat clearing. “Ready to go?” Phee asked, with a look on her face that suggested she knew he had been staring at her, and didn’t mind.

He turned away, nodding. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He followed her into the pool. The water was warm and gentle, a perfect temperature when combined with the soft cool breeze blowing in from the sea. It came up to his knees, then his thighs, then past his waist. Phee waded beside him, one hand holding her bag safely above the water, the other swirling random patterns in the surface of the water with every step.

“Ever do much swimming?” she asked as they made their way through the pool.

“Swimming proficiency was mandatory for all clones,” said Tech. “Kamino is a waterbound world and it would be laughable to fail to instill swimming skills in that setting. There were also special clone commando units with additional training in underwater operations, though our squad had only cursory training in that department.” He paused at the look on her face. “But yes, I am an adequate swimmer. It is not my specialty.”

“You’re like me. Flying’s really where we shine, right?,” said Phee, wading towards the shore. The cave’s entrance rose up before them, and Tech could see the reflections of blue and white from the water’s surface painting the walls of the cave. “But I can swim if I need to. Once I had to retrieve an artifact from a Naboo battlefield over an old Gungan settlement. Place was boobytrapped to high heaven with battledroids, but not in the water. Turned out the droids were the least of my worries. You ever been to Naboo?”

“No,” said Tech. “There were no clones in service during the battles on Naboo. Kaminoan production only began in earnest shortly after that time. My brothers and I had not yet been designed, let alone decanted.”

Phee shook her head. “Clone aging… that’s still a hard one to wrap my brain around.”

Tech shrugged. “We age at roughly double the rate as unaltered humans. It is simply a fact of life for us.”

Phee was quiet for a moment, a hint of something sad behind her eyes. Her mouth twisted to one side. Then she shook her head again, and continued. “Well, anyway -- Naboo’s a nice place. If it wasn’t for the Empire, I’d say you should try to visit sometime. But avoid going underwater, there are some freaky things down there, and I don’t mean the Gungans. Nearly got eaten by five different giant creatures.” She shuddered. “Got the artifact, though, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“I am glad you were not eaten,” said Tech. “It sounds as if it would be most unpleasant.”

She reached the shore, climbing up but slipping for a second on a rock. Tech closed the distance between them, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her shoulder. She refound her footing and clambered up, turning back to him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He followed her up, water dripping down his legs, running in rivulets down his feet. Phee was just as wet, her clothing clinging to her in a way he quite liked. He turned his attention back to the cave, listening closely.

“I do not hear anything.”

Phee screwed up her face in concentration. “Me neither, but it might be in deeper. This cave system goes in for a little ways. I don’t feel like getting deep into spelunking for this, but there might be something in one of the near chambers.”

She carefully picked out a path on the rocky shore as they entered the cave. There was a narrow spit of rocks encircling the water, and they climbed atop this, looking down into the water below for signs of movement. Light dancing on the water’s surface helped to light the cove, as did glimmers of sunlight peeking in from up above them through small gaps in the rocky ceiling. They were quiet for a few moments, concentrating on their footing and the gradually dimming light within the cave.

Phee was surefooted, leading the way without hesitation, occasionally pausing only to study the water beneath them. He watched the water too, but his attention was divided between the gently lapping waves and Phee herself. She moved with an easy elegance that was intriguing; long graceful neck shifting to allow her a better view, hands held out to her side to steady herself, legs balancing adroitly on the uneven rocks. He followed in her footsteps, occasionally startled when he noticed her looking back at him with a similar focus.

The light dimmed further, and up ahead was largely darkness. She stopped her, sitting down on a rocky outcropping and resting her arms on her legs. She gave him a nod, and he sat down beside her at the invitation.

“Seems like as good a place as any to wait,” she said.

“What else do we know of this creature?”

“Not much,” Phee said. “Last I checked, Pabu doesn’t have a marine biologist, and it’s not exactly a place that’s been extensively studied. One of the disadvantages of being so out of the way.”

“I could change that,” said Tech thoughtfully. “If we’re to spend more time here, I would like to continue learning about the local ecosystem and culture.”

“I think you might be the most curious person I’ve ever met,” Phee said quietly. “I like that about you.”

“I have never understood a lack of curiosity,” he said. “There is so much to learn and understand in this galaxy. I could never begin to come close to learning all of it, but I would like to try.” He smiled. “You, of course, also seem to be a very curious person. I… like that about you, too.”

She smiled brightly at him. Her brown eyes glinted with the dappled blue and white light reflecting off the water. She leaned in, listening to him.

He wondered, suddenly, what it might be like to kiss her.

“I guess I’m just a curious soul,” Phee murmured.

His heart seemed to be beating rather faster than normal, and he searched for something to say. “You have asked me a great many questions about myself, for example.”

She laughed quietly, the sound echoing sweetly off the water and the walls. “I’ve just never met anyone like you before. You’re one of a kind, Brown Eyes.”

Perhaps she was teasing him. He leaned back, shaking his head. “That is blatantly incorrect. While I am unique in being a genetically modified clone, I am still one of millions --”

She reached out, fingertips brushing his cheek, her touch feather soft. “No. There’s no one like you, Tech.”

Oh.

He stared into her eyes, frozen.

And then he heard it, faint in the distance, coming closer. A sound, haunting, beautiful, delicate piping layered with echoes of reflected notes building upon each other. Phee dropped her hand, focusing intently as Tech quickly pulled out his datapad and started recording.

“The ghost, there --” Phee started, pointing past him. He reached out quickly and took her hand, holding it closely within his own. She turned back to him and he made a shh gesture with his free hand. She nodded, staying quiet and still as the creature swam into view.

A pale gray shape skimmed the water’s surface, its form rounded, plump and smooth-skinned. As it drew closer Tech realized the dappling on its back was not only due to the reflections in the water, but also due to speckles of white and darker gray spotting its skin, crisscrossed with the shapes of faint scars. The creature was sirenian in nature; he remembered a similar manatee-like animal that had swam and played in the pooled waters of the vast wroshyr root system on Kashyyyk. But the alshyyyr of Kashyyyk had had no voice like this.

Phee leaned in close to him, her bare shoulder brushing against his, and he realized he was still holding her hand. His focus shifted from the fluting calls filling the cavern and back to Phee. Her face held a look of wonder as the ghost sang, its ethereal music resonating with the water and the stone, but that had fallen into the background for Tech.

Phee’s hand was soft in his, but strong; his thumb glided over her knuckles, the back of her hand, mapping fine hollows and ridges, tracing small old scars. She gently squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, marveling at how such a small motion could be so engrossing.

She nudged him, slightly, and he looked back up at her. “Sea ghost, remember?” she whispered, winking.

Tech nodded, gazing back at the ghost and its sweet singing. He closed his eyes to listen to the music, alien, haunting, singular. He was grateful they had found it, and glad that he was recording it to analyze and assess later. Of course he should be studying the animal after their work to get here.

But Phee’s hand in his fit perfectly. He liked holding it. Liked touching her. This new thing between them, smiles and stories and laughter and touches, was truly what he had come here to investigate, and the sea ghost, lovely as it was, took a distant second in his concentration. He could not explain it, even to himself; it was confusing. It was new and strange.

It was mesmerizing.

---

They listened to the music of the sea ghost for nearly an hour before the dappled gray creature dipped below the water and vanished into the dark. They waited for a few more minutes, but at last Phee turned to him and said, “I think it’s taken its leave. We should probably go too, before the tide comes in further.”

Tech nodded, turning off his datapad and slipping it back into its pouch. He felt a little disappointed at seeing the creature go; though how much of that was due to the ghost’s departure, and how much of it was due to the fact that this moment between him and Phee would end?

They made their way back along the rocks, Phee following along behind him. His bare feet gripped each rock tightly. It was slick along here as the tide had begun to come in and water had splashed on the rocks. He picked out his path carefully while he led them back to the mouth of the cave, deep in thought.

He narrowed his eyes as they stepped out of the cave. The sun was now in full afternoon brightness, and even with the adaptive settings on his goggles it was still difficult for his eyes to adjust after the dark quiet of the cave.

“Phew,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “It didn’t seem that dark while we were in there, but that is intense.”

He turned to her once the brightness of the sunlight no longer forced him to squint. “Thank you for coming with me. I would not have been able to find this on my own.”

“Everything you were hoping for?” Phee asked, crossing her arms. “I have to say, that was some concert we were treated to.”

“I am looking forward to analyzing the recordings of the sea ghost,” said Tech. He turned to her, smiling faintly. “But I also enjoyed spending this time with you.”

Her face creased in a grin. “Me too, Brown Eyes. This getting to know you thing? It’s all right.” She waded into the deep pool between the cave and the rest of the shore, the water rising up to her chest. He followed her, the warm water rising up past his waist within a few steps. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure at first if you were interested. And I didn’t want to scare you off if this was all new for you.”

“It is new,” Tech admitted, taking another step behind her. “But that is not a problem. It is very intriguing.” He hesitated. “You are intriguing. And… I wish to learn more, if that is also what you want.”

He reached out, and took another step --

Pain. Blinding, searing, lancing pain shooting up his right foot and leg. He groaned and stumbled, falling forward, the water closing over his head.

“Tech!” There was a frantic scramble of limbs and splashing of water, and after a few confused, agonizing moments he realized he was back on the sand, Phee kneeling beside him and pulling something out of his foot. “Ahh, kriff, you stepped on a shore urchin. That would do it!” She tossed away a shard of bright purple material. “How’s it feeling now?”

Tech blinked, his head swimming, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the sting or from Phee’s look of concern. He tried experimentally to move his leg. The pain was receding, leaving a buzzing, prickling sensation rolling up and down his foot and shin. He stared down at the leg, realizing that the right foot was already approximately twice the size of the left.

“Ah,” he said sagely. “It seems to be venomous. Fortunately, the venom also seems to have an anesthetic component. The blinding pain has stopped and I can no longer feel my foot at all.” He let out a long hiss of breath, trying and failing to wiggle his toes.

“Well, I gotta love the optimism,” Phee said, her face a mixture of amusement and worry. “I know it looks bad, but it’s not serious. Your foot’s gonna blow up like a puffer pig for a day or two, but it’ll be all right. Happened to me once.”

“Really?” Tech asked. The knowledge did bring a small measure of comfort.

Phee gave him a guilty look. “No, I was just trying to make you feel better. But hey. I really have heard of people stepping on these things and being fine.”

Tech reached up, disengaging his goggles to wipe them on his shirt. He squinted up at her. “This is an inauspicious end to our afternoon together, unfortunately.” He slipped his goggles back into place, blinking.

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Phee chuckled. “We still need to get you back in one piece. I have a feeling your family would have strong words for me if I left you here for the birds.”

“The gulls would not be interested in me unless I had already died,” Tech pointed out. “I am far too large to register as a prey item for this species.”

“Ahhh, there’s that charm,” she said. “Here. Let’s get you situated.” She pulled her bag over her head. It was now soaking wet, which Tech realized must have happened when she dove in after him. She reached in and pulled out a spare kerchief, similar to the blue one she wore most frequently, and wrung it out until it was no longer sopping. She carefully bandaged his right foot, which scarcely resembled the left. It was now mottled an unappealing red, white and purple, though at least the anesthetic properties of the venom were holding.

She gathered their shoes they had left in the sand, putting his right boot into her bag. He wiped as much of the sand from his foot as he could before jamming the left boot back on. It was going to be an uncomfortable walk up the stairs, he wagered. But at least he would be in good company.

“All right. Let me help you up.” She held out a hand, bracing herself in the sand, and got him up. She pulled his arm over her shoulders. It was a very pleasant sensation having her so close, his arm draped over her shoulders, her arm slid around his waist. It would have been better without the prickling-numb swollen foot he was dragging, however.

“It is a shame we had to sever ties with Cid,” Tech mused. “There was no chance to retrieve AZI-3 from her bar before coming here to Pabu. He would have been particularly helpful in a time like this.”

Phee nodded, beginning to walk, going slowly so that he could hop along with her. “Well, I don’t think she’d be all that happy to see you if I brought you back there. But there’s first aid options here. Old Namira’s got a pretty good setup at her place for minor wounds and injuries, we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you for the support,” Tech said, focusing on keeping his balance in the sand. “It is a pity it was my right leg that was affected. The left is still slightly weaker after I fractured it earlier this year.”

“Omega was telling me about that,” Phee said, concerned. “That must have been painful. Rough year for you, huh?”

“It was unpleasant,” Tech said. “Femoral fractures are intensely painful.” He shrugged, taking another hopping step, his left leg sliding in the sand. Phee stabilized herself against him, compensating for the uneven terrain. “Between AZI’s ministrations and the increased healing abilities of clones, I was only disabled for a matter of weeks. It was still not something I am eager to repeat.”

“Do all clones heal quickly?” Phee asked as they finally reached the first staircase.

“Yes, it is something we share with the regs. A sublimely useful modification by the Kaminoans, particularly for soldiers,” Tech said. They took the first step, and Tech winced as his dangling foot accidentally hit the first step. It gave a peculiar burst of sharp yet muted discomfort before fading back into numbness. He gave it an appraising look. “It appears to be swelling even more.”

“You good? Or do you need a rest before we start heading up? We can take a breather.”

“I’m all right. Let’s continue,” he said, adjusting his arm so it lay more evenly across her shoulders. Their cheeks brushed, and he swallowed. His senses buzzed, each small touch from Phee electrifying. This close he could smell her hair if he turned his head, and he caught the scents of a rich woody oil and the flowers of the weeping maya tree. It was intoxicating. He shook his head, trying to redirect his thoughts.

“You’re right,” she said, wincing. “It is getting bigger. I’m sorry, Brown Eyes. Not how I thought the day was going to go.”

“One never knows what hazards may be encountered in the wild,” Tech said. “It reminds me of something that happened to my brother. That was an insect envenomation and not an echinoderm encounter, but it triggered an intense hypersensitivity reaction. Not only did his hand swell up, he broke out in hives everywhere. Of course, he kept insisting he was fine -- up until his eyes threatened to swell shut.”

“Oh dear,” Phee said as they reached the next flight of stairs, breathing a little harder from the exertion. She readjusted her arm around him, pulling him closer. “Let me guess, Wrecker?”

“No, Crosshair,” he said. He could still recall Crosshair ripping off his helmet to reveal an appalling urticaria over his entire face, his eyes swelling until they could only see narrow slits, his hand barely able to bend over the butt of his Firepuncher, let alone pull a trigger. “Luckily, a few antihistamine injections were all we needed to reverse the effects. We knew that he would make a full recovery when he began complaining again.”

“Hang on,” said Phee, pausing. “Who’s Crosshair?”

Tech turned to her in surprise. “We have not spoken of him? ….No, we have not.” He looked up at the stairs above them, then at Phee, still breathing hard. “Here. We should rest a moment.”

She helped him get down to a sitting position on the stairs, then sat beside him and lifted his leg to rest it on her lap, keeping it elevated. She rested one hand loosely on his knee, another electrifying touch.

“That’s better,” she said. “Only… fifteen more flights to go. We got this.” She laughed. “But come on, who’s Crosshair? Another brother? You don’t talk about him. None of you do.”

“No,” Tech said. “Hunter prefers not to. Wrecker and I do speak a little of him, sometimes; Omega would speak more of him, but she was only able to spend a small amount of time with him. He is our other brother, but as you have seen he is no longer with us.”

Phee covered her mouth with her hand, her brown eyes soft with pity. “He died? Oh, Tech, I’m so sorry.”

Tech’s eyes widened, and he adjusted his goggles hastily. “What? No, he is alive.” He amended that statement, as he could not be certain of the veracity of it. “Or, we hope he is. He has chosen to remain with the Empire.”

“Oh.” Her voice and her face shifted, a hint of coldness coloring her expression. It looked out of place on her. “Sorry to hear it. I guess that’s why you don’t talk about him.”

Tech frowned. He knew how Hunter felt about Crosshair’s decisions, but he could not fully agree with Hunter’s interpretation, and it seemed somehow important to him for Phee to have a better understanding of the situation. “It is difficult to explain,” he said. He took a moment, focusing on what he would like to say.

“The Empire built a failsafe into all clones as a means to control us,” he began. “With assistance, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo and I were able to circumvent this, but Crosshair was not. The Empire was able to use this to divide us, forcing Crosshair to do terrible things. But at some point, he chose to no longer be controlled -- yet continued to remain with the Empire.”

“Why would he do that?” Phee asked. “Surely he’d want to escape, especially if they were forcing him to do something awful.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand.

“I believe that the things he was made to do while under Imperial control disturbed him,” said Tech. Crosshair’s agitated behavior on Kamino, coupled with his desperation in attempting to convince them to join him, had suggested as much. “But Crosshair is a very proud man, and most unyielding. I suspect it caused less cognitive dissonance for him to believe he would have acted the same, with or without that control, than to accept that he had been forced into doing things against his will. So he has remained with the Empire rather than admit the Empire, and by extension himself, has done wrong.” He gave her a small shrug. “That is my understanding of what has happened.”

Phee looked horrified. “That’s terrible.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “It must be difficult to feel like you’ve lost him, even though he’s still out there.”

“It is strange to know that he was once here with us, but is no longer,” Tech agreed. “I wish he could have chosen differently. But if he had, he would not be Crosshair.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Phee asked. “Even after all of that.”

“Yes,” said Tech. “I thought that was obvious.”

She gave him a small, sad half-smile. “I’m sorry. Maybe… maybe someday he’ll come back to you.”

“It’s possible. But it is difficult to imagine a path forward where he chooses to do so, unless he is able to change,” Tech said, looking out at the sea. It had begun to turn reddish gold in the late afternoon light, dancing with sparkles of white reflections. He thought of Omega, huddled in the blue dark of a cave on Ipsidon, reaching out to him for understanding. Perhaps what he had learned that day would help Phee understand. “Our… family… has not been the same without him. I have not been the same.”

“You were close?” she murmured. “Before?”

Tech nodded. “As you may have noticed, I often have a great deal to say. Crosshair was always an exceptional listener, no matter the subject. That is not to say he always remained quiet -- he could be quite cutting when he wished -- but there were many times he indulged my observations without complaint, even when I was particularly… exuberant.”

“Well, that’s something the two of us have in common,” Phee said, giving him a teasing smile. “I like your observations.”

“It has not escaped my notice.” He smiled slightly.

“Come on,” she said, patting his leg. “Let’s see how much further we can get before sunset. Up and at ‘em?”

“Yes,” he said. They continued up the stairs, one at a time. It was not easy work to do one-legged, even with Phee’s support, and he distracted himself by telling her more about Crosshair. He had not spoken so freely about their brother in some time, and he was surprised by how it gave him a sensation of something loosening within his chest. It felt good.

“So what was Crosshair’s role in your squad?” Phee asked, perhaps sensing the necessity of the distraction.

“He was an exceptional marksman,” Tech explained. “His enhancements included heightened visual acuity, improved depth perception, and the ability to calculate complex ricochets in real time. He is not proud without reason. I am a fair shot myself, but there were times it was simply enjoyable for us all to watch Crosshair set up a difficult shot and see him execute it to perfection.”

“I can see how that would come in handy. You’re all impressive in action, but it’d be interesting to see how a sniper in the mix changes things up,” said Phee. She whistled. “I’d have hated to be up against all of you.”

“We were indeed formidable,” Tech agreed. “Until the collapse of the Republic, we had had a one hundred percent success rate in our missions.” He sighed. “Of course, things have gone rather differently since then. We have been… adrift.”

“Well, maybe this is a place where you can find solid ground,” Phee said. “You all seem happy here.”

“We are,” said Tech. “It is something we have been discussing. Omega deserves a stable environment after all she has seen.”

“You do, too,” Phee pointed out. “Your whole life has been fighting. Maybe it’s time to find out what else is out there.”

“There are things that are worthwhile here,” Tech said. He paused, shifting to face her. They were so close. Her breath was a soft puff against his cheek. He searched her face, taking in her sparkling gaze, fixed on him, the way her lips curved into a gentle smile.

“Why, thank you, Brown Eyes,” she said, and before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him.

Ah.

This was new.

His mind whirred with sensations. There was Phee’s mouth on his, her lips soft, smooth, slightly parted. There was the warmth of her cheeks pressed close to his. There was her arm around his waist, her other arm sliding around him, pulling him closer, keeping him balanced on his good leg. He responded in kind, arms curving around her as instinct drove him, an overwhelming desire to keep her close within his arms and simply hold her. The blood rushed in his ears and his heart stammered, beating a rapid new rhythm.

It was overwhelming. It was extraordinary.

She pulled back all too soon, her brown cheeks a little pinker, her eyes dancing. He blinked at her, then reached up and shifted his goggles, breathing rather too quickly.

“That was… fascinating,” he managed. Was that an adequate word for everything that had just happened? It seemed as if it did not even come close to describing the moment they had just shared.

Phee’s smile was the most dazzling he’d seen yet. “Care to give it another try?” she asked slyly.

“Oh!” Tech said, unable to keep from grinning back at her. “Yes, if you are amenable, I very much would.” He leaned in, closing his eyes, and lost himself in her again.

---

It was well after sunset when they limped up the final stairs to the colonnade, both of them exhausted. They had taken their time coming up the stairs. While Tech’s foot was starting to look better -- the swelling had gone down by half -- it still was not easy to take the stairs up without bearing weight on his right leg.

They had also gotten distracted, several times, by taking breaks ostensibly to rest and kissing through them instead.

“Thank you for your, ah, assistance,” Tech said. “It is most appreciated.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Phee said, winking at him. “Now, how are you feeling? Your foot’s looking better, but we could still go swing by Namira’s if you want to get it looked at.”

“I believe it will continue to improve. If you would help me get to our ship, I will monitor it through the night,” Tech said.

“All right. But you know I’ll be checking in on you tomorrow,” she said, squeezing her arm around him.

“That would be most agreeable.”

They made their way to the ship beneath the rising moonlight, their pace slow and steady. He suspected part of it was that neither of them wished to break the physical contact they shared now. He reminded himself that she would be stopping by tomorrow. There would be additional opportunities to spend time with her then, to learn more about her, to share more about himself. He could not wait.

He had felt this way a hundred, a thousand times, eager to learn more and to explore and investigate a new subject. But he had never felt this way about a person before, and he did not know what to do with this feeling except to follow it as thoroughly and as passionately as he did for all things.

They reached the Marauder and Omega bounded down the gangplank to see them, Hunter and Wrecker emerging behind her. “There you are! Did you find the creature?” she asked.

The creature?

Phee nudged him in the side, and he chuckled. So much had happened since the song in the cave he had nearly forgotten their original purpose in going to the beach. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I would be happy to play you its song later. It was a most intriguing creature. Though our expedition was not without a slight mishap.”

“Your foot!” Omega gasped.

“Don’t tell me you broke it again,” Wrecker said, concerned.

“No, Brown Eyes here had an accident with a shore urchin,” Phee said. “Don’t worry, it’s already looking better. He just needs to stay off it ‘til the swelling goes down.” She let go of him and pulled his boot out of her bag, handing it back to him. “All right then, you take care of yourself, got it? See you around.”

“I… will see you too,” Tech said. She winked again, and turned to walk away beneath the moonlight. He watched her go until he felt Omega’s hand in his, pulling his attention back to his family.

“Come on in and get some rest,” Omega said, smiling up at him. “If you’re hungry, we’ve got leftovers!” Behind her back, Hunter mouthed the word “no,” shaking his head. Tech allowed her to lead him inside, gingerly starting to put a bit of weight on his foot again as he did so. It would be better by morning, he thought.

Omega let go of his hand as they reached the doorway, heading to the small refrigerant unit. Hunter turned to him and said under his breath, “You can give yours to Wrecker. Just let her down easy. She worked hard.” He gave Tech an odd look, then smiled. “Hm. Looks like you both had a good time.” He followed Omega, stepping back into the ship.

Wrecker helped him into the ship the rest of the way. “So… what’d you two really get up to, anyway?” he asked. “‘Cause something about you seems different, and not just your foot.”

Tech raised his eyebrows. “I believe that is between me and Phee, thank you.” Wrecker stared at him, mouth falling open, so surprised he wasn’t even able to make a joke.

Tech limped back to his bunk, smiling. There were a thousand thousand topics he could eagerly spend hours discussing, overwhelming even the most patient listener with minutiae and intricacies. He knew he would tell the others about the sea ghost in the quiet cave, play its songs for them, extrapolate on its lineage and life cycle and habits aloud. That he would happily share in all its detail.

But the rest -- Phee’s kisses, her hand in his, the way she had felt in his arms, her laugh, her smile -- that was something he was perfectly pleased to keep to himself.

#techphee #tech x phee #phee x tech #tech bad batch #tech the bad batch #phee genoa #phee bad batch #tbb tech #tech tbb #bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch #my batcher fic

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spoiled-milk · 1 year ago

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honkai star rail characters’ reaction to your tattoos [ft dan heng, welt, blade, kafka, gepard]

a/n: it's been four weeks of uni and i have pulled too many all nighters and consumed way too many energy drinks. i am running on no juice at the moment and i wrote this is like two sittings and it is very much not proof read

content warning: mentions of tattoos (duh), very out of character characters probably, shitty writing, sfw

word count: ~780 words

dan heng

neutral to your body tattoos and just see it as another part of you

i personally hc that he has at least one on his body and it’s on right shoulder (source: me i saw it in person in his bed)

doesn’t mean that every time you wear a tank top and your back is somewhat visible he can’t help but stare at you

it’s just fascinating to him. he wants to know if it has meaning to you or if you got it on a whim, if you were meticulous in picking every element represented or it’s just a collage of your favorite things. if the artwork on your back shows your lifetime story that words can’t describe

sometimes at night when the you’re giving him information to fill in the data bank and you fall asleep he’ll unconsciously hover his hand where your tattoo is and rub circles where it is

welt

welt sees your tattoos in pretty much the same way dan heng does, but he admired how the artwork on your body highlights your beauty

when you fall asleep on the couch filling out paperwork for both himeko and for the data bank, your tattoo is visible

as you snore on the red couches in the lobby of the express, welt can’t help but bring you a blanket and shift you into a position that won’t hurt your back in the morning

welt sits next to you book in hand while he watches you snooze away. eventually he too succumbs to slumber and he is seen sleeping next to you on the couch (no one is sure how the two of you manage to fit on one couch)

blade

he’s the first one and probably the only one to notice that your tattoo covers a scar

he won’t ask you about it (it’s not any of his business) but he would point it out in private

“you’ve got a scar there” he’d point at your tattoo and you’d play dumb “pfft… what scar?” then he points at the exact spot on your tattoo where ink covers scar tissue

freaks you out tbh you thought it was not that noticeable and blade senses your panic and reassures you it can’t be spotted that easily

he’s a little confused on why you would want to cover it and you tell him honestly. you don’t like it when people point it out while in public and you just found out easier to cover it up permanently without needing to always apply foundation

he feels bad for you but he’s got bandages on his hands so who is he to talk about covering up wounds

he has a new sense of closeness to you and vice versa. You sometimes catch him eyeing your tattoo and you ask him if he wants to get one too

he politely declines but if you wanted to get matching tattoos with him in a discreet spot, he won’t reject probably

kafka

i’m surprised that in that one light cone of kafka from forgotten hall she’s got none but that’s okay she’s still hot nevertheless

mommy kafka thinks your tattoos are hot probably so she deliberately buys you clothing that don’t cover the tattoo (backless dresses, sleeves less shirts, low rise jeans, shoulder less blouses)

she will be upset if you don’t wear the things she buys you

she probably thinks back tattoos are the sexiest and if you let her she would totally kiss your back just to make you squirm

loves water color style type tattoos the most, but whatever you have on you is hot to her

gepard

in one of gepard’s voice lines he mentions that he’s into gardening (hot hot hot) so i think if you had a tattoo of flowers he’d melt probably

if it’s on your shoulder or back and you show him? he will scream. he’s gonna scream, throw his jacket at you, then go into another room. he’s just a little baby you gotta cut him some slack

will admire your tattoos from afar but cannot look you in your eyes because he will go red in the face

if you ask him for his input for some flowers for a new tattoo idea that you have, will be honored that you asked him of all people

he would suggests lilies, amaryllises, morning glories, or bellflowers. don’t ask him why though he will not be able to tell you without blushing

he thinks all these flowers are gorgeous and he finds you gorgeous and if you incorporated some of these in your new tattoo he will be putty in your hands

he rarely gets to give out advice that’s not related to silvermane guard rules, regulations, and formalities so he’s secretly ecstatic

#milk.txt #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #dan heng x reader #blade x reader #welt x reader #kafka x reader #gepard x reader #dan heng hsr #welt yang #gepard landau #hsr kafka #blade hsr #Spotify

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awkward-tension-art · 5 months ago

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Bacta and Bandages Epilogue (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 9.

The Hunt

CW: Talk of unfair treatment of clones, kisses, Ahsoka on the hunt, She tries to figure out why Rex is being all soft, Mention of Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag List (Thank you everyone!): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69 @ghostlyembassy @notgonnaedit @tentakelspektakel @sparks0918 @clawmask

Ahsoka noticed Rex changed. After Drosaria was freed from Separatist control, the togruta noticed the difference. She thought it was temporary, but after a few more battles, it clicked how different he was acting.

He seemed…more relaxed. His smile came easier.

Only around you though.

Rex was still the 501st captain. Stern. Loyal. Hardworking.

But it seemed like all of that melted away when he saw you.

Ahsoka hummed in thought in her quarters, “what is the deal with Rex…” she mumbled. The padawan looked up to sigh, blue eyes landing on the vent grate.

….oh.

She had an idea.

With a smirk, she stretched and got up, leaving her quarters. The young togruta was on the hunt for the clone Captain, and she was going to pounce.

First was locating her friend. He wasn’t in the barracks, nor was he on the command bridge. She didn't want to ask. Afterall, she couldn’t give the game away. If someone told Rex that the commander was looking for him, he’d switch his demeanor. Act as Captain and not as Rex.

No, she had to remain a hunter. And…she may just have to lie in wait.

She could go into his office. But…that seemed too personal. The Captain probably needed a private place to go over data, protocol and other army matters. Ahsoka didn’t want to break that security and have him look over his shoulder when he would normally feel safe.

Afterall, she knew that most Clones didn’t get such private, personal areas to themselves. Even a bed wasn’t guaranteed for them.

So, Rex’s office, off limits to her.

However, once she returned to the prowl through the hallways, she found the 501st Captain. He was down the hall, looking over a datapad as he walked. The togruta kept her distance, doing her best to look natural, but still remained out of his sight.

Ahsoka turned a corner, leaning out slightly to watch Rex walk into one of the lounges on the floor. She narrowed her eyes and glanced around. If she went inside the lounge, he’d know. With a sigh, she looked up.

Above her was the metal ceiling. And a vent grate.

A vent. Just what she was looking for!

Ha! She could continue her hunt!

With the Force and a jump, she was inside the inner workings of the Resolute. As quietly as she could, she crawled through the vent system of the venator class ship. Once she navigated her way to the lounge, she watched him.

He hadn’t put down the datapad, instead, holding it in his left hand as he prepared a cup of caf. Other troopers were relaxing, either sleeping, chatting or watching the pod racing broadcast on the holoTV.

They didn’t pay their Captain much mind. He was silent, most likely not wanting to bother the soldiers in their downtime. He put the small plastic cap over the caf cup and quietly left the lounge.

Damnit. He’s on the move.

She huffed, opening the grate below her and jumping down. She landed silently, also refusing to bother the troopers while they relaxed.

Her steps were quick out of the room, and back into the hallway.

The hunt continued.

Captain Rex kept his eyes on the datapad while he walked. The caf was steady in his other hand, but he wasn’t taking a sip. It hit the padawan that he was bringing it to someone.

Was it you?

She continued her stealth, wanting to confirm her suspicions.

Rex made another turn and opened the door to the medical bay.

…And just like that, Ahsoka was back inside the vent system. She remained in the shadow, blue eyes trained down on the Captain and you.

You sipped the cup, letting out a relieved breath, “Thank you, Rex.” Your smile was warm and friendly.

“Of course, kar’ta. I know the last battle exhausted you.” He raised a hand to brush it over your cheek, “The injuries were high, and you’ve done a good job taking care of everyone.”

Kar’ta? Ahsoka frowned. It sounded like mando’a but she couldn’t be sure.

Maybe it was a term of endearment? The clones called each other vod, so maybe it meant something similar. Like ‘friend’ or-

You leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

Not friend. Kar’ta probably didn’t mean friend.

Rex laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was flustered, but happy to have received such affection. It felt like the Force sang around him in joy.

You, however, kept your smile, and the padawan could sense an air of love and adoration from you.

Ok, definitely not friends. Lovers.

Ahsoka’s hunt was over. She got exactly what she needed. Confirmation why the 501st Captain was acting differently. She was victorious!

…and she was an idiot.

Suddenly everything made sense. Ever since the Blue Shadow Virus Crisis, she figured something was going on, and now his behavior made sense.

Force, how was the padawan that oblivious!?

Rex pecked your lips, “I need to get back to my office and go through these requisition orders…” He sighed, actually sounding mournful to leave the medical bay.

“Go on, be the Captain everyone needs you to be,” You stroked his cheek, returning his kiss. The two of you separated, and he left your side to return to the hallway. She did as well.

Ahsoka waited for a moment when the hall was empty before she jumped down.

So the Captain and Doctor were lovers…

Unexpected. Not a bad thing of course! Just…unexpected.

The togruta had heard the stories. Of clones being found with romantic partners and being forced to break-up or moved to Kamino for reconditioning. It made her sick to know that her men were forbidden from such things or face the consequences.

She won’t give anything away to anyone. Rex and you deserved happiness. The padawan would keep your secret.

The Jedi couldn’t form attachment because their focus was the entire galaxy. But the soldiers? These hardworking, determined men? There was no valid reason they shouldn’t be able to find love!

She sighed, thinking of her master.

Anakin held the same thoughts as her. That the troopers should be able to be free to pursue relationships if they wanted.

Ahsoka stopped, realizing something.

The aura around you and Rex. It was sweet. Affectionate and warm. Something she had sensed when Anakin was with Padme. However, she never had a frame of reference for it. So she just assumed her master and senator were good friends, like they both said they were.

She slapped her hand to her face.

By the Force...she was a moron....

#reader insert #my writing #tcw x reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex #tcw rex #star wars tcw #star wars x reader #star wars the clone wars #ahsoka tano #star wars ahsoka #bacta and bandages

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jpitha · 19 days ago

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Between the Black and Grey 68

First / Previous / Next

Fen stayed still a long time, running in emulation. This wasn't her fault, she knew this. She spent a long time running back through her memories. While she was in software it felt easier; she found she could remember things much more clearly. Pretty much since Ma was killed, she's been passive. Things happening to her rather than because of her. She's been along for the ride.

That was part of why Fen was so upset now. The Nanites had their own agenda, Penny had her own agenda, the previous Empress had her own agenda, Gord and the AIs have their own agenda. The only person she could think off that wasn't trying to get something out of her was Zhe. Fen sighed at the thought. She hadn't treated Zhe well enough for how good of a friend she had been. Zhe was kind and helpful from the get-go. Sure, she was a pirate from a family of pirates, but that doesn't mean she wasn't a nice person.

If Fen was going to get out of this, she was going to have to take the reins and start doing things because she decided to do them.

So, what was she going to do then?

This was tough. Better to back up. What did she want?

In the end, what she wanted was to be with Ma-ren. Okay, that was extreme, but doable. She already had a leg up in that she knew where she was and how to get there... well, two ways on how to get there. One was traversing a wormhole link that the other...well she wasn't quite ready to take the reins in that way just yet. She remembered the bomb that Han'iel implanted, and wondered how it was triggered... No. Not that way. Not yet at least. It would do nobody any good to check out now and leave everyone to deal with the Nanites from both sides.

Okay, we're getting somewhere she thought. Now she knew that while her number one wish was to be with Ma-ren, her number two wish was to defeat the Nanites once and for all. Fen stared up at the non existant ceiling. For the millionth time, she wished Ma was here. She was always the planner, she always had the ideas. How do you get rid of a being that is a mass of nanoscale machinery?

Break the machinery.

But how? Fen sat very still. She felt like she was on the cusp of something big. How does this happen in BI bodies? Wait....

"Gord! Chloe!" Fen called out. Before she could blink, they appeared in her space.

"What is it Fen? What's wrong?" Gord said, looking at her. Chloe eyed her, but she appeared to have her attention directed elsewhere.

"Gord! Can we make a virus to kill the nanites?" Fen said, her eyes wide. She looked like she was trying to hold onto the idea, lest it slip away. "Like, something nanoscale like they are, but instead of being intelligent it just-" She waved her hands "-does something to them? Isn't that how a virus works? It takes over cells and makes the cells make more viruses?"

Gord started to shake his head. "We tried that back with Melody's....." he trailed off. "No wait. We didn't. Our gas tried to interrupt their connections to each other and force a disconnect. It worked at first, but they were able to easily overcome it." He snapped his head to Chloe. "Could we do that?"

"Hmm." Chloe's image flickered a moment, and then came back. She had finished whatever she was working on and was back at full attention. "Maybe. We would need access to Han'iel's data. Do you think he kept backups?"

Fen nodded. "I know he did; he used my personal datastores. That part should be easy."

"Good. Theoretically we could. It would be relatively simple code. Take over a Nanite, make more viruses, disassemble whatever is left, continue on." A 3d model appeared in space in front of her. It looked almost like a molecule. At this scale, everything looked like large molecules anyway. She spun it around, peering at it. Fen realized that this was all being done for her benefit, Chloe didn't need something like this. "We'd need a way to deliver it to a lot of them at once so they couldn't isolate and work on an anti-viral. It would also need a power source."

Gord grinned. "You mean like - for example - the white hole? Coincidentally also where a metric ton of those Nanites are congregating?"

Chloe nodded slowly. "Yesss, like that. Hmm." She stared off in the middle distance again while she thought. "How would we deliver them?"

As the three of them looked at each other, the room transitioned to the chamber where Fen's cabinet was kept. Gord whistled low. "Fen, you may only have been digitized for a day, but you've got a knack."

Fen smiled weakly. "I'll take the compliment Gord, but how do I deliver the... virus?"

Chloe answered. "We have to treat it like a real virus. Sneak in under the Nanite's defenses. They're nanoscale, they're probably used to defenders like a biological body has. Antibodies, white blood cells, similar. Viruses get in with trickery. We can look at the nanites in your body - both the originals and Han'iel's, and see if we can work out their defenses and how to sneak around them. The propagation of the coding is the simple part. It's getting them infected that'll be tricky." Chloe flashed a rare grin. "It's a good problem Fen, I'm excited to work through it."

"This is good though." Gord added. "This will give the Nanites time to congregate at the white hole. They'll be fighting Han'iel's Nanites too. We'll use the time to our advantage and then deploy you there and we can ideally knock them both out!"

Fen's blood went icy. "What's going to happen to me? Will... this kill me?"

"No, we'll extract a small amount of both nanites from your body in hibernation. You will be our vector and our test subject as well." Chloe was sanguine. "It'll all work out. Probably."

"Probably?!?"

The next week went by in a blur. Gord showed Fen how to change her perception of time while in emulation, and they were able to spend subjective months working out the problem while only a week of clock time went by. Fen was no nanoscale engineer, and had barely any idea about how biological bodies worked, but she was game to learn, and she was someone that Gord and Chloe could rubber duck to - that is, to explain their problem half to themselves and usually they answered their own question. In the rare times they couldn't at least Fen offered an ear and sympathy.

Chloe was able to extract quite a few of the original and Han'iel's nanites and placed them in very secure storage. When placed together, the two of them would fight, and when apart, they'd attempt to consume all the matter in their confinement and then would just go dormant, waiting for more matter or a host. Chloe kept them in modified antimatter containers, and that seemed to be safe.

The three of them stood around a virtualized screen, giving a radar view of the chamber with the original nanites. As she watched, Chloe pressed some buttons, and lightning quick, a needle entered the containment and injected something. It retracted before the nanites could attack it, and they watched.

Fen could barely make sense of what she was seeing, but Chloe had added some helpful annotations to the video. One cloud was tagged 'virus' and another cloud was tagged 'nanites.' As she watched, the nanite cloud moved over to the virus cloud. She couldn't exactly figure out what was happening, but it was clear that the virus cloud was growing and the nanite cloud was shrinking. After a few minutes, the nanite tag disappeared as the virus cloud looked to be nearly twice as large as before.

"There! A successful test, I'd say" Chloe said proudly. "We'll test it on Han'iel's nanites and-"

There was a distant sound like thunder, and both Gord and Chloe's attention snapped away. In Fen's peripheral vision, red emergency overlays appeared, warning her about systems she didn't have access to. "What's going on?" She asked.

"Attack. We're being attacked. Sit tight." Gord said, and the two of them vanished.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #jpitha #humans and aliens #writing #sci fi writing #humans are space australians #humans are space capybaras #FlashWarp

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megaerakles · 8 months ago

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To Whom It May Concern

Tim couldn’t stay.

No matter what Bruce had said when he caught Tim in the act of laying the paper trail to establish his Fake Uncle, no matter how long Dick had sobbed into the phone at him during an inordinately expensive long distance (read: off planet) phone call, no matter how much Alfred had been fussing over him and insisting it was no trouble at all to care for him since Tim’s scheme had been revealed and promptly foiled, it just didn’t change the fact that Tim couldn’t stay. Truthfully, the Wayne family’s apparent sudden burst of affection for him actually made this whole thing worse because somewhere along the way, without even trying, Tim had failed to keep things wholly professional between them and somehow tricked them into thinking he belonged in their family!

He couldn’t let it stand. For the sake of Jason’s memory, for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the true Wayne family, he had to stop this… this absurdity of pretending that Tim belonged with them from continuing! Tim had to run. Tim had to vanish. It was the only way to make things right again. Sure, the thought of never seeing any of them again, the thought of being done with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Barbara and everyone in his life he currently held dear once and for all made it feel as though his heart was being ripped out of his chest only to be shoved back down his throat to stop the flow of air into his body—but it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not nearly as much as they did. This would be for their own good.

Tim was leaving, and it turned out to be easier than he thought it would be in the end. Not emotionally easier, but logistically easier. Bruce had been extra attentive lately, so he thought he’d have to fake an injury and get ‘benched’ so that they would lower their guard long enough for him to slip away. But by some divine stroke of luck, a new player had waltzed onto Gotham’s criminal scene not too long after Tim’s Fake Uncle plan fell through and started making threats against Batman and Robin. They had apparently freaked B out enough to prompt him to send Tim off to Titan’s Tower to ‘focus on his team for awhile’. Tim had accepted the command with the requisite amount of complaint, planted some fake texts to make it look like he’d actually communicated to his Team that he would be there, shoved everything from his guest room in the Manor that he couldn’t bear to part with into a duffel bag underneath a spare uniform, gave Bruce what only he knew was a more emotionally charged nod goodbye than usual, and then poof. Tim Drake was zapped out of the Batcave for the last time ever.

He let himself have one night in the Tower. Partly to catch a few hours of sleep in a familiar and secure environment, but mostly so he could clean up his room for its next occupant, sweep his belongings and his person for any extra trackers, and repack his bag more efficiently. He also took the time to grab a spare backpack and fill it up with emergency rations. While he was taking plenty of cash, he didn’t want to risk having to go into stores with security cameras for a while, at least until he’d cleared a suitable distance from San Francisco proper as well as implemented the first of his many planned disguises. He didn’t think a bottle of cheap hair dye and some colored contacts would be enough to fool Oracle indefinitely, but if he was appropriately cautious it might keep her from getting a confirmation of his location long enough for the Bats to either get bored looking for him or to actually realize they were better off without him around.

When the early rays of dawn started to bathe the sides of Titan’s Tower in ember colored light, he was off. He left behind seven trackers pulled from his clothes and bag and one more from behind his ear; he’d kept the one he noticed in his favorite pair of sneakers because it was a type that wouldn’t start transmitting data until the Bats actively started tracking it and he was hoping to find someone who wore his size at the bus station he could pay to wear them so he could throw them off for even longer. If all else failed, he would just toss them in an out of the way trash can. He had also left a letter of resignation for Batman that he’d whipped up based off of an online template, signed and sealed and awaiting discovery atop the pillow in his nearly empty dorm room (he had tried for something more personal, a longer note of explanation for Bruce about why he couldn’t stay despite being asked, but—the words just wouldn’t come, and he’d been running out of time). His bag was heavy, courtesy of all of the extra supplies he’d grabbed in anticipation of having to evade not only Batman’s team but the rest of the Justice League. His heart was heavy, courtesy of emotional baggage that he wished was as easy to unpack as his actual bags would be when he finally found somewhere to settle.

He boarded the first bus he saw after he’d gone a few blocks and took a seat towards the back, where he leaned against the window and stared back at the iconic giant T that he used to belong in, however briefly, until it disappeared from sight. And just like that, Tim Drake’s life as Robin was over.

—

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately.

Thank you so much for the opportunity to work with you all for the past three years. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the team and appreciated the opportunity to learn about vigilantism and hone my detective skills. I’m excited to take these skills with me as I pursue the next step of my career.

During the past two weeks, I have done everything possible to wrap up any ongoing cases and leave no unfinished business. The Robin suit as well as my spare have been cleaned and placed in the armory of Titan’s Tower along with any gear I have been issued.

I wish Batman and team the best, but am afraid I will be out of contact for the foreseeable future.

Sincerely,

T. J. Drake

—

Red Hood stalked into Titan’s Tower with all the grace of a wildcat closing in on its prey, his vicious smirk hidden by his helmet, his unauthorized entrance hidden by virtue of the heroes’ own stupidity in failing to remove his codes from the database. Seriously—he’d thought gaining entry into their so-called fortress would be the hardest part of this little trip, and had only tried his access codes for the sake of checking the most stupidly obvious Plan A off his list! For them to work, to realize that there was nothing truly separating the precious sidekicks from the wrath of a vengeance minded crime lord, well… it sure made the message he was about to send feel all the more poignant.

He had come equipped to subdue an entire horde of Teeny Titans without hurting them (much), but to his surprise, the tower was empty of kid sidekicks despite Robin having been sent to work with his team yesterday afternoon, a fact Jason had gleaned last night from listening to the mind numbing chatter of Nightwing being bored on a stakeout and wanting to chat with anyone over the comms Jason had hacked into. Which he’d done in order to better plan his aggressive takeover of Crime Alley, not because he missed hearing his family’s voices. Nope.

(Since coming back to Gotham, it had been more difficult than he anticipated to stick to the plan when some part of his mind still stubbornly clung to those foolish, childhood dreams of belonging and family and a father who gave a shit and things like that, and kept popping up with annoying questions like ‘what if he revealed his identity to Dick or Alfred or someone just to see if maybe Talia had been right and they’d want him back after all. Clearly, the existence of a new Robin meant that they’d never really given a damn about him, so he was going to go through with this thing, just watch him.)

Truly this had to be fate, because the path to Robin was practically unfolding before him with no barriers. All that was left to do was find where in this gigantic clubhouse the itty little birdie was nesting. Jason tried the common room first. Then the kitchen. Then the rec room. And then the training floor. And the med bay. And then the armory, where he found Robin’s suit, but no actual Robin. He supposed the next place to check would be Robin’s bedroom, because even though it was well past eleven, Drake was a teenager and could conceivably be sleeping in, especially since there was no Alfred around to rouse him at a reasonable hour. Luckily, the doors on the floor with sleeping quarters were all clearly marked with either the name or symbol of the person it belonged to, so it was easy enough to find the one with that all too familiar stylized ‘R’. Jason paused to take a steadying breath before gritting his teeth and deciding to really make an entrance by kicking down the door.

…To an empty bedroom. Like, not just devoid of Tim Drake, but also devoid of books, trinkets, photos, decoration, clothes, dishes, mess, et cetera, et cetera. It looked as clean and sterile as a hotel room, and if Jason hadn’t literally just seen Robin’s insignia on the door he would think he’d entered an unassigned room by mistake. He frowned and yanked off his helmet, as if looking with his own two eyes would suddenly change the scene, but no. Nothing. He strode into the room and yanked open the closet—empty. He walked over to the desk and yanked open the top drawer—empty. He yanked open the bottom drawer, and mostly empty except for—wait, was that a pile of deactivated Bat trackers? Fucking bizarre. When he stood up, he glanced around again, and this time something on the bed caught his eye. It had been easy to miss against the white pillowcase, but there was an envelope tucked up against the pillow. With a scowl, he stalked over and grabbed it.

When Jason flipped it over, he noted that it was addressed to Batman, but decided that since he was a crime lord now he didn’t have to care about something as trivial as opening someone else’s mail. He didn't want to take off his gloves and risk leaving prints on anything, so he pulled out a dagger and used it to slice open the envelope. As he flipped it over to dump its contents on the desk, he had the fleeting thought that he probably should have put back on his mask in case this had been some villain’s ploy to poison Batman, but luckily all that fell out was a single sheet of printer paper folded into thirds.

This he was careful not to damage as he unfolded it. It wasn’t a long note, just a few small paragraphs, so it was quick enough to read: To whom it may concern. This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately…

Jason dropped the letter and took a step back, staring at the innocuous piece of paper with wide eyes and racing thoughts. Robin had—Drake wasn’t—Timothy—the kid, he was quitting? Leaving? Gone?

It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. Except Robin shouldn’t have had any way of knowing Red Hood would be able to track him all the way to Titan’s Tower so why would he have set a trap for him in the first place? A trap for someone else, then? If it was, it was really, really stupid of him because the kid had signed his resignation letter from Robin with his actual name, and surely he wouldn’t have made it this far if he were that careless with his identity. So, it was either a very bad trap, or not a trap at all. And if it was not a trap at all, then…

Then Robin had… resigned. Which, ok, Jason’s stated goal coming into this thing was to get Tim Drake to stop being Robin. So he should be happy about this, right? Except he’d not gotten to toss the kid around and work out his aggression at all so there was no satisfaction in it. Also, the timing was fucking obnoxious. Go figure that the very day he decides to do something about his replacement, the kid decides to peace out of the Gotham vigilante scene and… and go…

… Somewhere. Jason had no idea where Tim Drake would go if he were no longer Robin. Given how he’d waited until he was alone and then left the note to be found on the other side of the country, Jason had a sneaking suspicion that returning to Gotham was currently off the table. The letter had said he would be ‘out of contact’ for the foreseeable future; Jason could read between the lines enough to figure out that meant he was running away.

—Which, fuck. Another Robin was running away from Batman because of… well, Jason didn’t know what this kid’s issue with B was, but there were plenty of potential flaws in the man to choose from so Jason was going to play it safe and assume it was something Bruce did. Clearly, the man could never learn. And now, this poor dumb Robin was going to pay the price! Jason was more than familiar with the number of horrors that awaited kids who ended up on their own. He could starve; he could freeze to death; he could catch some disease like the flu, or get cut on a rusty nail and get tetanus, and then die from it because he couldn’t access medical treatment. He could get mugged, or harassed by cops, or snatched up by traffickers, or—

And fine; Jason himself had meant to hurt him. But that had been for ideological purposes, to prove a point about putting children in danger and not taking good enough care of them and stuff. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt him that badly, just bad enough to freak out Bruce a bit. But Jason was also the Red Hood, and the Red Hood’s mission was to do what was necessary to stop awful shit from happening to vulnerable kids. And this stupid, stupid letter was apparently enough to abruptly transfer Timothy Drake into that category in his head.

Everything Jason had heard about the kid said he was smart, and the timing of his disappearance pointed to some thoughtful planning on his part. Jason could imagine that the little shit had some sort of plan in place to evade Batman’s attempts to locate him, and he probably could manage to run without getting caught by Bruce and the Gotham team for a while. Heck, the kid probably had strategies to get away from most if not all of the Justice League members, since B was sure to call in favors once he got frantic enough about the little bird. But one thing the kid likely did not plan for was being pursued by him. Ex-Robin, currently a crime lord, League of Assassins connections, and a bone to pick with Timothy specifically? (He ran away from home and left a fucking resignation letter about it? Does he not realize what that would do to Dick, to Alfred, to Bruce—)

After stuffing the letter into his pocket, Jason put back on his helmet and stalked out of Titans Tower as silently as he’d arrived, this time with a new yet equally furious purpose sharpening his steps. Sucked to be Timothy Drake, he thought, because the Red Hood got his message and he was officially concerned.

#my writing #my fanfic #tim drake #jason todd #to whom it may concern #would be what this fic is called if I ever continue it haha #but this is as far as I got and then kinda lost steam #but it stands as a one shot pretty nicely so I thought I'd share it here see what people thought. ya know.#could it be a multi chapter fic one day? sure. what do I know. will it be soon? probably not.#um ok what else #unreliable narrator #tim drake has self worth issues #are probably the two most critical tags/warnings for this one.#anyway actually being on desktop is giving me way too much power look at me go all these tags and no typos damn!

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meetinginsamarra · 6 months ago

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mayprompts2024, #27 jealousy

Chapters 1 to 3 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Seven (jealousy)

When both of them had calmed down from all the laughter, Sherlock clapped his hands on his thighs and leant forward in his chair.

“Let’s talk about your cover-up.”

“Please, do.” John fixed all of his attention on Sherlock.

“First of all, whose idea was it to get a tattoo?”

“Oh, that was me. I wanted something of her to last. Something to show how serious it was for me, our marriage. You know, til death do us part, kind of.”

Sherlock hummed but was clearly not impressed by this reason.

“And whose idea was it to put her face on a Virgin Mary image? She has not actually been a virgin when you’ve met, right?”

“Well, no.” John blushed. “It was her idea. Because, you know, her first name was Mary and she thought it was a great...” John trailed off, sighing then looking at Sherlock who thankfully kept his mouth shut but was slowly turning his head in an unmistakable “no”.

Defensively, John added, “It wasn’t, in hindsight, okay?”

“It’s never been right from the start.”

John rolled his eyes. “You just needed to say it out loud, didn’t you?”

“She proposed that you tattoo her face on your arm to make a statement. A clear mark that you’ve been taken, by her. She wanted that the other women and men,” Sherlock winked knowingly at John who merely snorted, “become jealous of her. Look at my prize! It’s mine and mine alone! Possessive behaviour at its best.”

Again, in hindsight, that makes so much sense. John thought ruefully.

Sherlock continued, ignoring the distressed expression on John’s face.

“At least, your tattooist has done quite a good job, technically. No blurring, no wonky lines, no blotchy shading. Good placement of the design, too. Matching the natural contours of your upper arm. Which makes a cover-up much easier.”

“Good. I really want to get rid of this.”

Sherlock stood up. “Come on, John. I’ll explain my process to you.” He opened the purple curtain, holding it open for John to pass through into the room behind.

It housed the actual tattoo studio. The first thing John noticed was that everything in this room was high-end.

The recliner seat for the clients, the worktable with Sherlock’s tools, shelves with bottles of ink, needles and at least five different tattoo guns. Everything was also clinically clean. One corner of the room was occupied by a tiny but professional photo studio, including spotlights and an expensive looking camera on a tripod. There was another worktable with a state-of-the-art computer setup.

“Take off your jumper and stand in front of the camera. This is a special camera with a 3D software. It’ll scan your arm and every line of the tattoo in high-res and send the data to an image generating software on my computer. This way, I can design the perfect phoenix for you, one that will match and cover or even use the lines you already have without any optical distortion.”

“Wow, that’s, Jesus, that is quite elaborate.” John gaped. “All this for a cover-up?”

“No, it’s what I do with all of my clients. It’s the only way to achieve the perfection I desire.”

“Brilliant.” John looked at Sherlock, full of awe. “Extraordinary.”

Sherlock blinked. “Really?”

“Of course, all the effort you put into this!”

Sherlock ruffled his curls, obviously abashed. He turned his head to hide the pinkish blush that had started to spread on his sharp cheekbones and mumbled something unintelligible while he rummaged uselessly around in a drawer.

But John had already seen it.

For all of his aggressive seductive behaviour, could it be that he gets shy when someone genuinely praises and appreciates his process? John mused. A bit ‘all bark but no bite’ under this self-assured demeanour and abrasive personality? I’d really like to to have a photo of this blushing Sherlock, it’s adorable.

The next ten minutes went by in silence, only interrupted when Sherlock told John how to turn and place his arm in front of the camera.

“How long will it take until you’ve got the final design?”

“At least a week. The next days are packed with clients. Also, there’s something else to my process, about creating the perfect ink which takes some time as well.”

John was struck by another question. One that John had not yet thought to ask which might possibly come across as pretty stupid now.

“Erm, we haven’t talked about what you charge for all of this.” Can I even afford this? Him?

“Oh, silly me!” Sherlock exclaimed theatrically. “I forgot to mention that you have to sign a contract in blood and sell your soul.”

“Dork!” John playfully punched Sherlock against the shoulder. “Don’t pull my leg.”

“Ah, don’t look so frightened, John. You can afford my services. I charge my clients depending on their wealth, you know? I helped a disfigured young man for the price of a bottle of ink and I had a rich investment banker pay me 600 pounds an hour. I’m not going to rob you blind.”

“Ta.” Relief flooded John, then he remembered Sherlock’s last remark. “What’s that about the ink?”

“Yes, right.” Sherlock’s voice got excited. “Do you want to see something really special? A secret?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

#mayprompts2024 #number 27 jealousy #my sherlock fanfics #white pony tattoo AU #no beta we die like (wo)men

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polufabrikat-na-vilke · 5 months ago

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Thoughts about Diavolo and Doppio

Introducion

All that ton of text exists because I didn't believe it was DID since my first time watching and reading Golden Wind. Literally from the first time seeing their actions and interactions, I thought it looked more like some sort of supernatural thing than that condition, to which I only found more confirmation as I watched. I still want to call the following examples thin, since there is a very high probability that Araki was simply going way too wild with all this mystical mysterious secrecy of the antagonist, and everything that I will give may turn out to be just the fattest wicked technique for exaggerating this, but I want to express my thoughts nonetheless. Plus, I think it might be a narrative trick after all, so I may turn out to be right in the end of the day.

Point

So, let's get it straight: the theory is that there's no DID in that story, Diavolo is not an alter-ego, but something else and probably not a human at all. And now to the specifics.

Let's start from afar: his (to make it easier to read, I'm talking about Diavolo in a generally accepted way) mother, in her words, became pregnant from an unknown man who died 2 years before his birth, and, moreover, she has been sitting in isolation from the outside world for 2 years, in a specifically women's prison without any men at all. AND, MOREOVER, the anime adaptation shows that the fetus develops in just a few hours (I’ll say a few more words about the validity of David's version later). Well, it’s impossible, well, it’s a huge nonsense, even if we consider from a seemingly scientific point of view of this universe, with which Araki tried to explain, for example, the change in physical parameters when switching egos. Here's mystical supernatural shit number 1.

Further. This particular point is relevant only for anime adaptation. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any data on how much Araki took part in its creation, I confess, but I have the right to assume that if it was approved by him and released the way we see it, it is quite a canon by which we can argue. It came out after the manga and this is quite possibly a more correct representation of events from the point of view of canon details. In the same scene, after birth, the baby's eye color momentarily changes from hazel to red, then back. This move, I want to note, is often used to show a character’s possession, usually with supernatural forces or the like. Yes, it is also used to refer to a "second personality" or some hidden nature of a character, but newborns do not have DID, it is a disorder that develops after severe repeating trauma. Mystical supernatural shit number 2.

We smoothly move on to the extreme turbidity and ambiguity of DID, and I’m not even going to talk about body changes when switching. So, DID develops, as, by the way, even in the original source is noted, as a result of a deep shock or trauma. A person dissociates from the traumatic experience, which, if severe and repetative to the point when their mind can't really survive it, results in violation of an identity integrity. It does not develop immediately and is noticeable to others, while commonly not being noticable to a person expiriensing it. And what do we see on this topic there? Nothing, only Doppio shows symptoms of dissociation, and only in situations where something threatens to expose the boss’s identity (or in other situations related to him, that’s the only way), which is strange, because I can’t even imagine such a trauma can be (i.e., it becomes a chicken-and-egg paradox: the trauma, in theory, should be related to the boss, to alter, but without the trauma there should be no boss, no alter). Other trauma is either not shown, which is a serious omission from the script, because this is no longer a mystery, but a hole, or it simply does not exist, because in the village, as far as can be seen, the attitude towards him was near normal, and his foster father is caring and loving, and has a trusting relationship with him (judging by the phrase casually thrown by the drivers from a flashback with his youth, where they warn him not to complain about an accident on the road to the priest, which seems to refer to the fact that this has already happened at least once before, and as if he would hardly have gone to him to complain if he did not trust him). Mystical supernatural shit number 3.

The same muddy and unclear story with his mother under the floor. Why is she there? For what is she there? How did she survive there? But who would know. In my opinion, it looks like some kind of some ritual-related bullshit, or at least a sacrifice to something, but I don’t undertake to make any special statements or comments here, I’m just noting and thinking. Mystical supernatural shit number 4.

Let's get to non-flashback events. POSSIBLY Diavolo is able to influence Doppio's consciousness (which does not happen in the opposite direction). This is indicated by the latter’s holy faith in the fact that he is talking to his boss on real work phones, well, that’s how he sees them, as well as the clouding and memory lapses that suddenly occur after the end of the call, which is strange, but still convenient for Diavolo, what a goddamn lucky coincidence, huh? I don't think alters are able to perform such tricks. Mystical supernatural shit number 5.

In the SCR arc, characters mutually switch bodies with closest persons. What's going on with Diavolo in that situation? He, like a self-respecting individual soul newly revealed to the audience (!), not like everyone else, not like a sucker, "attached" to someone else’s soul (it was kind of similar with Doppio before), and for time secretly sit happily in one body for two. And now, this is no longer a person suffering from DID (that is, a soul with, in our case, an ego split in two (that's PSYCHE thing)), but a whole separate being, moreover, also capable of ruling his soul as he pleases. Mystical supernatural shit number 6.

We will need some of the things from the previous point now. At the end of the arc of Ciocolatta and Secco, Diavolo not only immediately knows from somewhere that Bruno can only see souls, but he also, in order to make Doppio look like Trish for him, lends him a fucking piece of his (let me remind you, separate, like we have already found out) soul. A piece of his soul, God damn it! He (again) not only knows some unreal information about souls, he, as already said, is able to manipulate at least his own. Mystical supernatural shit number 7.

His eyes (iris and pupil), already extremely unique in themselves, are the eyes of his entity, but not his body. When he takes control of someone's body it is visible, when Bruno is in his body it is visible. Worth a mention. Mystical supernatural asshole number 8.

The last, probably the most interesting mystical, but not so supernatural screw-up lies in a small detail: when the souls of the characters in the final battle return back to their bodies, we are shown all of them, except for Diavolo's (well, more precisely they showed King Crimson as it, but this doesn't count (otherwise Diavolo is KC, lol)). Coincidence? I don't think so. More likely it was done on purpose, and this is not even attributed to the supposedly yet another creation of an aura of mysticism around his personality - at this point we seem to already know very well what he looks like... Or we don't, actually?

Conclusion

That's all, actually. The bottom line is the same: Diavolo is something supernatural, I don’t presume to say what he is exactly. This is probably all the fairly significant evidence (meaning those that are less than half conjecture) that I had. There were a lot of strange things in JoJo, inspired by some things from the real world, and then blown up to the point of "incredibility," but here they tried to tie it into some kind of pseudoscientific nonsense that I didn’t believe in. In any case, this is not the first "spirit" in this universe (it’s worth remembering Anubis), so this theory, I think, is more than valid.

So thank you for reading, it's open for discussion, since we'll never know the truth for sure (DID was the assumption of the characters of Vento Aureo, and they called it "assumption" themselves (I want to believe with all my soul Araki fooled everyone, being an unreliable narrator so Diavolo will be even more of an enigma)).

#jjba vento auero #jjba part 5 #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba doppio #jjba diavolo #vento aureo #jjba golden wind #golden wind #vinegar doppio #diavolo jojo #doppio jojo #fan theory #analysis #polufabrikat thinks

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ovenproofowl · 2 years ago

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a lot of people have said it, but I’m throwing in my two cents just to get it off my chest.

Picard season 3 was . Bad . For a LOT of reasons . It felt like - as many before me have expressed - a self-insert fanfic with the dullest self-insert in history.

Jack Crusher wasn’t much of a character but he could have had some promise if they hadn’t spent an aggravating amount of time having him decree how different he always felt, you guys. Did you get that part? He’d always felt different. That sort of dialogue might have flown if we were dealing with Picard’s adolescent son, but instead we’re dealing with a 24 year old played by a 35 year old who looks every bit his age. (It was a hard 24 years, we must assume.)

The reason that Jack Crusher didn’t work for me personally, though, wasn’t because of how cliché his character was. I would have let that pass much easier if it wasn’t for the big ol’ elephant in the room. And that is simply that :

JACK CRUSHER WAS NEVER NECESSARY

Jack may have served a purpose to the storyline that was presented if only because he was the sole reason there was a Big Bad to be defeated in the first place. Everyone wanted to kidnap him, he brought the old gang back together just to protect him and then later save him from said Big Bad which was also actually .. him. Everything Was About Jack. But I’m not talking about the main plot. I Really Don’t Want to Talk About the Main Plot. Ever. What I want to talk about is what Jack represented that made him so unnecessary:

He was intended to represent Jean-Luc Picard’s only reason to start living.

Personally, that really, really offended me. Picard didn’t need to have a biological kid to have a purpose. In fact, it’s been established time and time again that he wasn’t ever really dad material. More of a... weirdly intense uncle. For a while, he wasn’t a fan of kids at all. Eventually, though, Picard is seen to warm to the idea of letting children within his general vicinity. This starts in TNG and continues on in season 1 of Picard. The Only Categorically Good Season of this whole. show.

In season 1, we see flashbacks of Jean-Luc’s relationship with a young Elnor, how he would read him stories and have sword fights with him. He was an absent father to an adopted child he hadn’t even realised he’d adopted and yet Elnor still fought for his hopeless cause. In much the same way, Picard meets Dahj and then later, Soji. He feels a kinship with these androids because of their connection to Data. He wants to protect Soji becase he couldn’t protect Dahj and Soji even canonically questions whether she should allow Picard to act as her father figure before she begins to remember where she came from. Both of these dynamics were infinitely more interesting and a lot deeper rooted. Soji and Elnor were both young twenty-somethings without parental guidance but found that guidance through Picard. Soji had her connection to Jurati, too, and Elnor had his with Seven and Raffi and that’s what made the whole group so intriguing to follow. They all had interesting connections to each other that had so many avenues to explore.

Unfortunately, the show decided to more or less write Soji and Elnor out of the story come season 2. Elnor was killed off for the majority of the season and only brought back by Q intervention in the last episode. Soji wasn’t even a part of the story at all. And do you know what’s sad about that? What’s really sad? Season 2 was trying to sell us the exact same message as season 3. That Picard needed a reason to live. But, like, not that reason. Not the reasons he’d already been given in the form of his found family with his Romulan and android adopted children, or even the rest of the La Sirena crew. No no no, we can’t have that, better get rid of them. This time, Laris is the focal point. Picard had been avoiding a romantic relationship with her because of a never before mentioned dark history surrounding his mother’s suicide. Because, sure, at this point, why not? While we’re at it, let’s also kill off Rios in the most slap-in-the-face out of character way possible and fling Jurati at the Borg for good measure just so she won’t be around for season 3. Her character development into the Borg Queen was pretty intriguing, but we’ll totally ignore that they even exist post her departure, just for funsies. Oh, and Soji and Elnor? Best not mention them at all come that third and final season. Otherwise, people might get the crazy notion that Picard already had a reason not to hunker down and die at the vinyard at the tender age of 104.

Season 3 picks up where season 2 leaves off in that Picard is now in that aforementioned romantic relationship with Laris. Except, no he isn’t because he immediately gets an emergency call from his ex and literally never sees or talks to Laris ever again. There wasn’t even a throw-away line or implied reference to her, but by now I’m sure you know the reason for that.

That’s right, folks. Because if we were allowed to remember Laris and what she meant to Picard, then we might just remember that other thing. Say it with me now!!

JACK CRUSHER WAS NEVER NECESSARY!!

In summary, there were so many brilliant options to give Picard for signficant found family dynamics, but the show just wasn’t interested in any of them. Season 3 wanted a Picard who had given it all up, who was ready to die because he’d never had a family to pass on his legacy. They wanted him at his lowest so that we’d all rejoice to see him return to the TNG crew. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a massive TNG fan and I could rave about the fan service and nostalgia porn for hours on end. If season 3 had stood alone as a singular unconnected event, it might even have been passable as a warm hug from old and beloved characters with some fun new spins to their stories along the way, juust so long as you didn’t squint too hard at the actual attempt at plot writing going on in the background.

But the fact of the matter is, Picard season 3 came far too late into the game. Season 1 held the building blocks to something new and interesting. By the end of season 2, it was becoming clear we were never going to see those blocks stand. By season 3, those blocks were just scattered headstones in a graveyard.

They teased us with the potential new show of Captain Seven and her Number One Raffi Musiker and that might have just been okay. . .

. . .If the La Sirena Crew had been allowed to be a part of that future.

In closing: Picard season 3? Too little, too late, mate. 👎🏻

#star trek picard #picard spoilers #anti picard #jean luc picard #jack crusher #anti jack crusher #soji asha #elnor #raffi musiker #seven of nine #i didn't mention everything i didn't like here or in fact everything I DID like #because if we ignore the plot and just focus on seeing the crew back then yes I did in fact enjoy quite a bit of it #and also vadic was the best goddamn villain and they should have done more with her oh my god #but i had to get this off my chest #and also yes i acknowledge that elnor was very much seven and raffi's adopted kid as much as picard's #but this has to focus on picard because.. well.. that's the name of the show right?#could've fooled me. i thought it was the jack crusher show #ok ok i'm done bitterness out #it's said and i'm moving on

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 7: Old Friends

Secrets can only stay secret for so long. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-6 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None but whole fic is violent and smutty so Minors DNI. 18+. No use of Y/N.

Length: 6.6k

Din was relieved that, when you emerged, you gave the girl a broad smile and asked if she wanted to play a game before leading her to the hold. He stayed out of your way, trying to watch you without showing that he was watching you. It was pointless. He knew that. In a few weeks or months he’d leave you on Dantooine to start your new life - one that would hopefully stick now that the war was done. There was no point in being your… friend.

“Let me show you some good climbing tricks,” you said to the girl, getting down on her level. “Just in case you don’t always have a jetpack on when you’re all grown up….”

You helped her maneuver onto a crate, showing her how to gauge where to grab, good footholds, how to leverage her weight to make things easier. He smiled. You looked happy - or the closest to happy he’d ever seen you. It was the first time he thought you looked your age, like you had the hope of a life that fit you. And it wasn’t one that belonged on a bounty hunter’s ship.

Layari started getting cranky and yawning earlier than Din had expected. He really wasn’t used to children, hadn’t spent much time around them and didn’t particularly want to. She ended up passing out on your lap as you read to her aloud from the data pad, one of your hands steadily running through her hair.

“Would it be OK if we put her in your bunk?” You whispered, the girl nestled against your chest. “I think she might sleep through the night there….”

Din looked at you both for a second longer and had a moment of wondering what you’d be like with a child of your own. He wondered if you’d ever even considered that as a possibility for yourself or if you’d spent so long being used by others you hadn’t thought of your own life.

“I’ll take her,” he said, gently lifting the girl from your arms. She didn’t stir, just pressed herself against his armor, smiling a little. He realized that he probably reminded her of her father. He looked down at her. It was strange, thinking his armor was a comfort to someone.

He found you in he cockpit after he put the girl to bed, in your usual place against the viewer, watching the stars blur past.

“We’ll get there tomorrow,” he said, standing next to the hatch, arms crossed. You nodded, looking away from the stars and at him.

“That’s good,” you smiled a little. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, being away from your child like that. The sooner we get her back, the better.”

He nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry,” you said, sitting up a little straighter. Din frowned below his helmet.

“For what?”

“Everything,” you shrugged. “I fucked up at the party, I could have done that cleaner. I shouldn’t have broken down then, I’m better than that. And it’s not your job to take care of me when I do…”

“No,” he shook his head, cutting you off. “But I wanted to.”

You nodded slowly.

“Does this make us friends?” You asked, watching him. He wasn’t sure why but sometimes, when you looked at him, it was like you saw past everything - the beskar and the flight suit and the silence that came from years of working alone - and he had no choice but trust you with no defenses.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t have many friends.”

You laughed.

“Me either.” You looked at him for a moment longer. “Got a holochess board?”

He couldn’t seem to get ahead of you in the game, the pair of you playing three and you winning each one. Your strategy was all over the map, you were unpredictable but you were effective.

After the first game, you proposed making things interesting. Every time one of you lost a major piece, you had to share a story of a time you felt like a fool and take a shot of Corellian whiskey. Din told you about the first time he tried to fight a rancor, laughing as he explained how a lucky move being the only thing that kept him from losing his head. You told him about a time you tried to sneak into an Imperial base only to get lost in a ventilation shaft.

Your laugh was contagious and grew easier with each drink, eventually gripping his arm across the table to stay upright, almost falling over in your glee.

After the third game, you fought to get your breath back, glancing over to his quarters, making sure the child was still asleep.

“You should sleep,” he said. Your hand was still on his arm. He didn’t want you to go.

“Yeah,” you nodded and smiled. “It’ll be better tomorrow… This doesn’t happen a lot but when it does… anyway, it’ll be better tomorrow.”

“It’s OK if it’s not,” Din said.

“It will be,” you smiled. “Thanks… this was nice. Being… whatever this is. It’s nice.”

He watched you go to set up your bed and he went to the cockpit, needing to put space between you before he wanted that space any less.

***

You really should have known not to drink after having one of your episodes. You felt lightheaded when you laid down, pleasantly so. The Mandalorian was different than you’d expected when all his guards were down. He still wasn’t a huge talker, but you were getting better at reading him. He was funny, a bit sarcastic and obviously smart. He was decent at holochess and you imagined he’d kick your ass if he had anyone to play with regularly. You were a bit out of practice too, though. It had been a while since you’d played with Sosha, her enjoying the game to keep sharp. You were the only one who would regularly give her a run for her money, though she won a bit more than she lost with you.

The first time you’d ever been drunk was with Sosha, too. You were 16, the only two people on a ship and you’d found a stash of Spice liquor. You were jumping, had all night, and you figured if you were going to die in a war you may as well live a little first.

It had been fun, though strange in hindsight. A bright spot in what had otherwise been a nightmare. You fell asleep remembering. So you should have known I would have turned into dreams.

They started hazy, an adult voice and words coming from 11-year-old Sosha’s lips, stormtroopers running for her and away from you as you raced to put yourself between them, them never catching her and you never catching them. Just running and running and running until everything around you swam in starlight like you were flowing through hyperspace.

Then, things shifted and you forgot where you really were. Dagres was there, giving you his cocky smile, Sosha rolling her eyes and calling him a flyboy but smiling when she noticed the two of you watching each other. Then, suddenly, he was gone, so close and yet so far and you couldn’t reach him as he fell, darkness swallowing him.

Sosha was there then, beside you and behind you, alone on a planet that barely had the right air mix to be habitable. You were always short of breath and you were hiding from the Empire, two of them searching the area around the wreckage of your ship, you trying to keep Sosha hidden and safe.

So when you felt hands on you, you fought. You pushed and screamed for Sosha to run and tried to see if you cold get your fingers around a throat or into eyes or your teeth into flesh. But all your fingers could find was fabric and metal. You tried to use your head as a battering ram, but your shoulders were forced down onto the mat below you.

“Doll!” The Mandalorian was shouting, his fingers gripping your shoulders so hard you could feel them digging into your flesh. “It’s me! You’re safe, it’s OK!”

You went limp, breathless beneath him, eyes darting around as where you were caught back up to you. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, you were sure he could hear it and you fought to slow it down, breathing through the feeling of panic.

“You’re OK,” he said again and you were suddenly aware of his weight on you. His hands released your shoulders hesitantly before he climbed off of you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped. “I was dreaming…”

“It’s OK,” he said, sounding breathless himself, flat on his back beside you. “Are you OK?”

“I will be,” you nodded, breaths calming. You looked over at him. “Was I screaming?”

“Not until I tried to wake you,” he turned his head to look at you. “You were thrashing, I was worried….”

You just nodded, looking back at the ceiling.

“Who’s Sosha?” He asked after both of your breaths had returned to normal.

“A friend,” you said quietly. “We worked together, too, for a time.”

“Rebellion?”

You paused.

“Rebellion-adjacent.”

You heard him shift beside you, the soft clatter of his armor on the floor.

“You miss her,” he said. Like so many other things, it wasn’t a question. For the man behind the mask, you were very easy to read.

“Yeah.”

“I could take you to her instead,” he said. “We don’t have to go to Dantooine. Assuming she’s not…”

“She’s alive,” you cut him off. “But it’s not possible. We’d both like it to be but it’s not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

You both lay there in silence for a while, your hand slipping along the cold metal floor of the hold until you found his. He jerked it away at first, surprised, but slowly brought his palm to yours, lacing his fingers through your own.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked quietly. “It’s better when there’s someone…”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

You rolled to face him and he gently adjusted to be against you, his hand at your waist, thumb softly tracing the outline of your rib. His helmet lightly met your forehead and you curled into him. Even with the armor, he was somehow warm. You wondered how he got used to sleeping with it on, if people who slept in armor ever woke up afraid they were dying. Your hand went to his chest, rising and falling with his breaths, a constant calming force.

“Thank you,” you yawned.

“Anytime.”

The Mandalorian was gone when you woke up, but you were feeling more like yourself as you heard the small giggles of Layari from the galley. You got up and quietly found them, Mando’s back to you as he sat beside the girl. She was showing him something on the data pad with one hand, a spoon in the other as she ate breakfast. You smiled.

“Mirdala, ad’ika,” he said to her. “Jii…”

She looked up and saw you watching, her face lighting up.

“Mesh’la!” She jumped up, took your hand and dragged you to the already overcrowded table. Mando looked up at you and shook his head a bit.

“Lek,” he looked back to her. “Mesh’la. But we should speak Basic, she doesn’t speak Mando’a.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” you said, finding a ration that sounded passable. “I’ve never heard Mando’a before. It’s lovely.”

You perched on the small counter and watched as they spoke back and forth. It was clear Layari was still learning, Mando gently correcting her word order or pronunciation from time to time. You tried to see if there was some linguistic root you could recognize and to piece things together, but there wasn’t one you seemed to be familiar with.

It sounded harsh, at first, but when you just listened for a while, there was a musicality and flow to it you enjoyed. You could have been happy to listen to them speak back and forth all day.

But before too long, you sighed and went to get ready for whatever Nevarro had to offer. Layari wandered out for the galley as you were braiding your hair, sitting in front of your usual crate in the hold. She stood next to you, hands behind her back, standing just taller than you from your place on the floor.

“Yes, Darling Girl?” You smiled at her, not fully turning her way as you pinned a braid into place on your head.

“Can you do mine, too, Mesh’la?” She asked, biting her lip.

“Of course,” you smiled, scooting back and patting the floor in front of you. She plopped down, wiggling happily. “Can you braid?” She shook her head. “Here, I’ll show you.”

You demonstrated the most basic technique, getting her long hair back from her face. She smiled, watching her reflection in the mirror, toying with a finished braid, twisting it between her fingers. Mando came up behind you, arms crossed, watching.

“Ba’vodu!” She met the eye line of the helmet in his reflection, holding up the braid. “Mesh’la… What’s it called?” She looked at you.

“Braiding,” you smiled, smoothing her hair as you finished another braid.

“Mesh’la is braiding me!”

You bit back the giggle threatening to bubble out of your throat.

“Braiding your hair, ad’ika,” he said as you tied off the final braid.

“There,” you smiled, draping the four braids over her shoulders. “All done.”

She squealed before getting up and running the length of the hold, braids streaming out behind her. You watched her for a moment, awed by her resiliency. You knew better than anyone that one day, likely sooner rather than later, she’d need to reckon with what had happened to her. But, for now, she was just happy to have her hair braided.

“We’re coming up on Nevarro,” Mando said, looking away from the girl and to your reflection as you started braiding the last chunk of hair that still hung loose. “Would you like to come with us?”

You twisted to look at him instead of his reflection.

“Yeah,” you smiled a little. “I would.”

He nodded stiffly, going back to watching the girl. You finished braiding and got to your feet, brushing off the basic dress you’d put on.

“What does she keep calling me?” You asked, still watching her. “And what are you calling her and she calling you, for that matter?”

“She’s ad’ika,” he said. “It just means little one or a child that you’re close to. She’s calling me ba’vodu, which is uncle.”

You nodded slowly, watching him. He fell silent, watching her run.

“And me?” You asked eventually, laughing a little. “You won’t hurt my feelings or anything, promise.”

“Well, she’s very fond of you,” he said, hedging his words. “And most of the women she’s known are always masked…” You watched as he struggled to string the words together. Eventually, he sighed and spit it out. “Mesh’la is beautiful.”

You smiled in spite of yourself.

“Too bad her dad wants her back,” you gave him a wink. “Otherwise, I’d keep her.”

“I have a contact in Nevarro,” he said. “Layari’s father is meeting us there. He’ll also probably have more work for me but I know I need to get you to Dantooine…”

“I’m not in a hurry,” you said quickly, glancing over to him. “Feel free to do a job or two first. I… It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

He gave you a stiff nod before going to the cockpit.

Nevarro was different than other places you’d been. Maybe closest to Tatooine, a certain lawlessness to it that felt vibrant but threatening. You kept close to the girl, letting her run but not letting her out of your sight. The dress you’d chosen was nondescript but had enough pocket room in the skirts to stash your blaster and your knife. You might have been tired of killing but that wouldn’t stop you from taking the hand of anyone who touched Layari.

Mando reminded you of the rebellion soldiers you used to travel with as you walked through town. His head never just looked straight ahead, instead scanning the city, always on guard. But you made it to his contact without incident, Layari happy to just have more room to run and jump than she had in her cell or on the ship.

“Mando!” A large, broad man - though not quite as large as the Mandalorian - met you in the street, his arms wide. You instinctively tucked Layari behind you as she ran past, holding her there. You looked the man over. He was older than you - the Mandalorian, too, you thought - and seemed like the type who was out for himself and no-one else. “How’ve you been? Busy, I hope.”

“Busy enough,” Mando said. His voice was friendly, enough that he didn’t entirely distrust this man. You loosened your grip on Layari.

“Who have we here?” He asked, turning his attention you. You gave him a small, polite smile and offered him your hand when he reached for you. He took it, kissing the back of it while holding your gaze.

“Just cargo he picked up a few quarries back,” you said.

“Greef Karga. A man who got out of the game too soon if there’s cargo like you around,” he smiled, releasing your hand. Layari peeked around from behind your skirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric. He smiled and got down to her level. “And here’s the little one I’ve heard so much about! I’ve got your father inside, would you like to see him?”

You looked down just in time to catch her nodding quickly. You took her hand. The man looked up to you and the Mandalorian.

“Come on in Mando,” he said. “I believe we have other business.”

Mando kept an eye on Karga as you went inside, putting himself between the man and yourself. You kept Layari’s hand in yours all the way inside. In an office at the back of the building was a man in armor like Mando’s. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you before now that you wouldn’t know what to call the Mandalorian when there was more than one of them in the room. He seemed so singular you’d almost forgotten that Mando wasn’t his actual name. The two men greeted each other before Layari almost tore from your grasp and ran for her father.

“Buir!” She yelled, jumping for him before he’d had a chance to even open his arms for her. She just trusted that he would catch her. And she was right. He caught her and pulled her into his chest, clutching her to him. He almost fell to his knees he was holding her so tight, whispering things you didn’t understand in Mando’a. It was almost too intimate to watch, it felt intrusive. So you pretended to look out a nearby window, absently toying with a stand of your hair. Karga slid alongside you, putting his hand on the small of your back. You fought the urge to stiffen.

“Why don’t we leave them to get reacquainted,” he said, gesturing you to another room. You followed, door closing behind you, leaving the pleasant sound of Mando’a behind. Karga pulled out a chair for you at a table.

“Tea?” He asked.

“Please,” you replied, taking the seat. He pushed it in for you and made you both a cup of tea before sitting across from you.

“So,” he said, taking a sip and sitting back in his chair. You straightened, chin up. You knew posturing when you saw it. “I heard Mando had help getting the girl.”

“Seems like a hard thing to do alone,” you shrugged, taking a sip of tea.

“Heard it was a young woman,” he said, eyeing you. You set the cup in front of you. You wondered how close a contact this was for the Mandalorian. If he was a threat, you’d have to hurt him. Hopefully that wouldn’t hurt the only way you had off this planet, too. After you were silent for a moment, he shrugged. “Been working with Mando for a while. He usually works alone.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you said, taking another sip of tea. It was good. “I’ve only seen him handle a few quarries and even then, I stay on the ship. Just cargo.”

“Not this time you weren’t,” he replied, leaning in close now. “So tell me, cargo. What skills do you have that made our mutual friend come to you for help?”

You leaned forward, your arms on the table so your face was just inches from his.

“People skills,” you smiled. He barked a laugh before sitting back in his seat again.

“He is lacking there,” he laughed, looking you over again. “I could see how you may not be, if you’re not trying to freeze someone out. What’s your name?”

You considered him for a moment as you took another sip of tea.

“Amira,” you replied.

“Amira,” he repeated. He didn’t question it. Not as insightful as the Mandalorian, then. “Tell me, Amira. Are you looking for work?”

“Not at the moment,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. You were going to meet your mother’s cousin on Dantooine. You weren’t sure what you’d do after that, but you’d need to lie low for a bit. “I’m not planning to settle anywhere near here.”

“What if you weren’t planning to settle at all,” he said, twisting the tea cup in his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to have people with Mando’s skillset on the books but I have plenty of jobs that require a… lighter touch. Someone like you could make a very comfortable living. I could front you a ship, get you started…”

“Have me indebted to you in both credits and favor,” you quirked a brow at him. He laughed again.

“You don’t miss a trick, do you?” He said.

“I wouldn’t have lived through what I have if I did,” you shrugged. You considered him for a moment. “Mr. Karga…”

“Greef, please,” he said. You smiled. Just the response you were hoping for.

“Greef,” you said, leaning forward again. “I’m curious, answer something for me. Are you interested in the skills you heard a woman connected to the Mandalorian has or are you interested in a way to manipulate him?”

“Oh, you I like,” he said, giving you a half smile. He took a sip of his tea. “Honestly? Bit of both. He doesn’t… work well with others. But he always gets the job done, so what do I care? Anyone he decided to partner with is intriguing. How did you navigate that… sticky situation?”

“Talking to the right people in the right ways,” you said.

“A valuable skill indeed,” he replied. “And even after hearing that, I hadn’t expected him to arrive with you. I’ve never seen him travel with someone who wasn’t a quarry or a mission…”

“I’m cargo,” you cut him off.

“We both know you’re more than that, Amira,” he crossed one leg over the other. “He could have just left you on the ship or told you to find something to keep you busy in town while we met. Instead, he brought you here. You’re intriguing for that reason alone.” He took another sip of his tea, finishing his cup before leaning across the table, leaving his face just inches from yours again. “I’m surprised he’s left us alone this long.”

As if on cue, the door opened with a hiss and the Mandalorian strode in, one hand on his blaster, going for Karga.

***

It had been so long since Din had seen another Mandalorian, he hadn’t even noticed when Karga had taken you from the room. It was disorienting when he realized that you weren’t there and even more so when he realized that he wasn’t sure when you’d left or where you’d gone.

At first, he was afraid that you’d gone out into the city on your own. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself - you obviously could - but what if something happened to you and he didn’t know? Finding you bleeding in his hold seemed to feel worse over time, not better. Your agonized screams, the frailness of your life seemed to haunt him. Not knowing where you were scared him.

“She’s in there,” his brother Mandalorian jerked his head toward a door. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Din grunted but didn’t wait for him to elaborate.

Luckily, you hadn’t gone far. You were sitting with Karga, the two of you leaning over a small table like you were either adversaries or lovers, eyes locked and arms crossed. Your attention flitted to him for a moment and Karga smirked, smug.

“If you have dealings with me, you can take them up with me,” he said, gently grasping your shoulder and tugging you back in the chair so he could try to put himself between you and Karga. He felt your eyes on him. “She stays out of it.”

Karga looked at you, a small smile on his face before turning his attention to the Mandalorian.

“Just getting to know your associated a bit better,” he smiled. “Interested in understanding the woman who could capture the attention of Mando…”

“I’m just cargo,” you said. He could hear the eye-roll in your voice.

“She stays out of it,” he said, ignoring you both. His hand twitched toward his blaster and Karga noticed.

“She’ll only be involved if you involve her,” he sat back from the table, smiling. “At least, when she’s here with you. If she takes me up on an offer later then…”

“How’s Layari?” You cut in before the situation got any more tense.

“With her father,” Mando replied. “He’d like to meet you.”

“In that case,” you smiled graciously at Karga. “I appreciate the tea and the insight.”

“Always a pleasure to entertain good company,” he smiled, giving you a nod. You gave Din a look as you passed, your eyes never failing to find his beneath his visor. You brushed against his arm as you went by and it was like it shocked him, acutely aware of your proximity even through his flight suit. He watched you go, eyes lingering on the door even after it closed.

“I mean it, Karga,” he said, turning back to him. “She’s not on the table.”

“I never thought she was something I could buy, Mando,” he said, watching him closely. “But you can’t blame me for trying to talk her into joining the guild. She’d do well. She’s an adult, she deserves to make her own choices.”

Mando grunted.

“You owe me four quarries,” Karga said, sitting back in his seat as he changed the subject.

“I have two,” the Mandalorian replied. “We detoured to Coruscant before I could get the other two. I still have time.”

“I’ll take the two you have now,” he replied. “And see about extending the other two if you take on one more job for me.”

Behind the helmet, his eyes narrowed.

“What job?”

Karga smiled and Mando sighed. It’d be a long one, then.

When he went to find you, he’d gotten the job and two more pucks from Karga. The job he was torn on. It wasn’t really in his wheelhouse but it would take a while and it was one that you could come along for - that it would be useful for you to be along for. It would keep you closer for longer. But that isn’t why he’d agreed to it. Or, at least, wouldn’t admit that that’s why he’d agreed to it.

You were on the floor of Karga’s office, Layari on your lap when Mando came in. Joha, Layari’s father, stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching you and the girl. She was showing you something on a data pad, babbling away while you nodded along.

“She insisted… well, she just calls her beautiful, but… she insisted on showing her every image we have of home,” Joha said in Mando’a, voice low. “She wouldn’t leave without it. Your woman is kind, though, hasn’t acted bored once.”

“Not my woman,” Din grumbled.

“Whatever she is, I owe her my life,” Joha said. “You, too. Karga said you burned the place down and killed the man who took my girl. She’s safe because of you.”

Mando tried to not look surprised. You must have gone back in to set the blaze. “Before I burn this whole fucking place to the ground.” You’d actually done it, even thinking you’d have been left there to burn with it.

“If either of you ever need anything,” Joha continued. “You need only ask.”

He turned to Din and the gripped each other’s forearms in a firm shake.

“Layari,” Joha said, changing to Basic and turning to you and the girl. You both looked up from the data pad. “Come now. We need to go home.”

Layari looked at you and you smiled at her before she threw her arms around your neck, whispering something in your hear. You smiled wider.

“I’ll miss you too,” you said softly, adding something in Bothese and giving her a tight hug. The girl went to her father, who picked her up, gave Din a nod, and left. You watched them go, a sad smile on your face, before getting to your feet. You had a mask, too, Din had learned. It was a look of calm assurance, total confidence, quiet power. It slid into place, your back straight and chin held high.

“I’ve never been to Nevarro,” you said, sounding like the princess Din had first thought you were when you’d met. “Anything to write home about?”

“You’re not missing much,” Karga said, joining you. “Besides, Mando has some work to attend to that means leaving sooner rather than later. Work you’re welcome to join him on if…”

Mando’s hand went to his blaster.

“I’ll let him discuss that with you himself,” Karga said. He watched Din as he moved to stand in front of you, your back still straight, face still composed. “But my offer still stands if you change your mind on… settling down.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, offering him your hand. He shook it this time before both of you went back out into the city, stopping to pick up rations and other supplies.

“It’s going to be quiet,” you said as you both made your way back to the Razor Crest.

“Won’t have to watch where I’m walking quite so much,” Mando said and you looked at him, a hint of surprise on your face.

“Was that a joke, Mando?” You asked, smiling a little. He shrugged and you elbowed him playfully in the side.

“Solmé?” Someone called. Mando only noticed your reaction because he was so preoccupied with everything you did. Your head almost turned, an automatic reaction to someone calling your name, and your stride stuttered ever so slightly. But you disguised it, adjusting your neck and staring straight ahead. “Solmé, is that you?”

Your pace increased a bit and Din started looking for the person calling for you, readying to put himself between the two of you. But it was just a young man, around your age, jogging over to you from across the market, smiling and waving to catch your attention as he ran up.

““Solmé!” He smiled even bigger, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I can’t believe it’s really you…”

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to look confused. “But I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

You carefully removed yourself from his grip and walked off. Din followed closely, but so did the other man.

“No,” he said, catching up and walking beside you. “I know it’s you, Solmé. I can’t believe you’re alive! We all thought you were dead, we found Dagres’ body and you were nowhere, we all just assumed…”

“I’m not who you’re looking for,” you cut him off. The man looked to Din, his eyebrows knitting together. He lowered his voice.

“Is this guy bothering you?” He asked. “Is he forcing you to be here? Because if he is…”

“No one is forcing me to be anywhere,” you said, keeping your voice low. “And I don’t know who you’re talking about, I’m not who you seem to think I am I just have one of those faces…”

“No,” he shook his head, taking you by the shoulders. “I know it’s you, Solmé, I’d know you anywhere. We looked for you, after the battle. Dagres asked me to look out for you if anything happened to him but no one could find you and so many bodies were torn apart we lost hope…”

You spotted an alley and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him into the shadows. The Mandalorian moved with you, a hand at his blaster, ready to fire.

“Teav,” you said quickly.

“I knew it was you,” he pulled you into a tight hug, crushing you to his body. “I never thought I’d see you again, Solmé…”

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice thick. You hugged him back.

“Is this guy…” he glared at Din, whose blaster hand twitched. “I’ll get you out…”

“No,” you said, stepping back from him. “No, he’s helping me, we’re just passing through here.”

“Let me take you home,” he said, but you shook your head.

“I can’t go home, Teav,” you said quietly.

“Yes you can,” he searched your face, like he was looking for a joke. “C’mon. With your connections? You can always come home…”

“Not safely,” you said quietly. “Not for me or anyone who knew me then. Including you and Sosha. You know some of the things I did, what that would mean for people who still know me. You have to let me go, Teav. You thought Solmé was dead because she is. She can never go back.”

“He asked me to take care of you,” he touched your shoulder gently. “And I told him I would.”

“I never needed to be taken care of,” you shook your head and gave him a half smile. “Not then and not now.”

“I know,” he nodded. “That’s why he asked me to do it. Because he wasn’t sure anyone else ever would. He wanted something good for you and I can’t…”

“It will be good,” you reached your hand to his neck and pulled his forehead to your own. “It will. The war is over, we can leave it behind. It just will take more work for me than it will for you. But it will be good.”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Tell no one you saw me, Teav,” you said softly. “No one. Solmé is dead and she has to stay dead. It’s what’s best for everyone.”

“But…”

“Sosha knows,” you said. He seemed taken aback. “I’m sorry if she lied to you, but you can’t tell her. No one can know where I am now, it’s not safe.”

“How could she have just let you leave?” He asked, shaking his head.

“It’s best for everyone,” you said. “I promise.”

He sighed heavily before pulling you into a hug. You waited for a moment and hugged him back.

“I’m so sorry, Solmé,” he said softly.

“Me too,” you said. He gave you a squeeze and then stepped back, giving another look at the Mandalorian.

“You’re sure you’re OK with him?” He asked.

“Teav,” you smiled and laughed a little. “Do you really think one man could get me to do anything I didn’t want? Even that one?”

He laughed.

“Suppose you’re right.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” you said. “Even if Dagres asked you to. But… It’s nice. Knowing that he asked, that he cared.”

“He loved you,” he said. You closed your eyes and nodded. “And Solmé? It was worth it for him. I promise you, it was.

“It was good to see you,” he said. “Even if no one can know.”

The two of you shared a hug and he left, you watching the place he’d been in front of you well after he had disappeared. Eventually, you turned to Din.

“What are the chances Karga had us followed and heard any of that?” You asked. Your mask was in place, no sign of the encounter at all. “I can’t afford to have a man like Karga know that… Solmé is alive.”

“We weren’t followed,” Din said. He tried to think of the right thing to say to you but couldn’t find it. You finally looked at him, your eyes finding his immediately.

“Let’s get off this rock,” you said, turning and heading for the ship.

You were silent until the Mandalorian started the jump, with you almost tearing out of the cockpit the second you could. He made sure everything was running smoothly before he followed you.

You weren’t in one of your hiding places this time. Instead, you’d pulled out the whiskey from the night before, sitting with your back against a crate, looking up at the ceiling with your eyes closed.

“Whiskey?” You tilted the bottle in his direction, not looking at him.

“Sure.”

He took the bottle, turning away from you and raising his helmet just enough to take a drink. He left the seal of the helmet off before sitting beside you, close enough that your leg touched his.

“Heard you burned the place down,” he said after a moment, handing you the liquor.

“Mm,” you said, looking at him, your head resting against the crate. “Seemed like the best way to keep them from trying that again for a while. That and killing enough of them.”

“That’s why you went back.”

You just took another drink. You didn’t need to respond. He knew the answer. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, passing the whiskey back and forth.

“I can help you,” he said eventually. “I can protect you from whatever - whoever - it is you’re running from. I can help. But I need to know.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you said, twisting the whiskey bottle in your fingers, watching the liquid slip around the glass before you sighed and looked at him. “But you deserve to know. I’m a risk - an even bigger one now that someone’s recognized me. I don’t think it will get back to anyone looking for me but I didn’t think I’d run into someone from my old life in a small town on a planet I’d never been to, either, so what do I know?”

“I can help,” he said again. He meant it. Even more, he wanted to help. Wanted to give you what you needed so you could rest, find some of the happiness he’d seen you capable of the two days Layari had been aboard.

You looked at him, the uncanny ability you had to find his eyes and hold his gaze on display again. It felt like you were looking right through him, past the helmet and armor and skin. You sighed, your gaze turning pleading, like you were begging for him to let you maintain the illusion. He didn’t give in, and you started at the beginning.

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

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