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deepspacedukat · 1 year

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Begin Again - Part 4

Alright, things are beginning to heat up! I’ve got an outline now, and I think this’ll be nine chapters if all goes according to plan. Enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Koss (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut adjacent, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies attraction, Human/Vulcan attraction, mentions of sexual thoughts, innuendo, mutual pining, they both believe their attraction is one-sided but it’s mutual, they’re just idiots experiencing sexual tension, also made-up Vulcan food.

~*~

Nearly another week passed before I gave in to the urge to go down to the underground spring. After Koss mentioned that Vulcans swim au naturel, I found myself both intrigued and nervous about the possibility of going down there and finding my handsome neighbor unclothed. Such a state would do nothing but stir unnecessarily improper mental images.

Eventually, though, my discomfort and frustration with the heat forced me to swallow my reservations. Donning a red one-piece swimsuit, the only one I currently owned, I wrapped a thin robe around my shoulders to wander down into the caverns. Surely it was late enough at night that Koss would be asleep? The thought of enduring the heat for another moment was repugnant, though, so I’d just have to risk it.

As I rounded the corner to the cavern’s opening, I almost didn’t see him at first. Koss was seated amidst a small cluster of lit candles with his legs crossed. He wore only a thin pair of pants, and despite how much I knew I shouldn’t, I paused to silently admire his figure.

His broad shoulders really were just that broad, and the rest of his torso was equally as muscular and solid. I wondered vaguely if his job as an architect intersected with actual construction work, because his skin was sunkissed enough for it to be a possibility. His posture was perfect, and the only expression on his face was one of complete serenity and calm.

Had I been skilled in the medium, I would’ve been inclined to carve his likeness in marble.

“The benefit of the spring is much more substantial when you are submerged in it, Ensign.” Steady but gentle, his voice called out to me. My breath caught in my throat when I suddenly found his gaze locked with mine. There was some question in his eyes - not accusing but curious - about whether I would turn and flee since I’d been discovered or if I would summon my courage and enter despite his presence.

Who was I to disappoint him? Lifting my chin very slightly to at least give the semblance of confidence, I made my way over to the small cabinet at the side and untied my robe. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I slipped the cloth from my arms and laid it across the top of the cabinet.

“Is that a bathing suit?” Glancing over at his question, I noted a faint green blush on his cheeks as if he hadn’t truly intended to ask it aloud - perhaps he hadn’t even meant to reveal that he’d been watching. Now that it was out in the open, however, he couldn’t take it back any more than I could take back the small smile that played over my lips.

“Yes, it is,” I murmured as I struck a pose in jest. Seemingly giving up on his meditation, Koss stood and made his way to me. Had he always been that tall? “It must look odd to you.”

“No, not odd. Different, of course, but...the garment suits you,” Koss stated as his eyes floated back up to my face after his inspection. “Would you join me for a swim?”

“But what about your meditation?”

“What I completed prior to your arrival will be sufficient for tonight,” he said offering me his arm. Koss’s voice was weighted, but surely that was just my imagination.

How odd for a Vulcan to offer physical touch so openly. They weren’t very tactile under normal circumstances, not that I had been overly successful in coaxing Soval into telling me the reason for their aversion.

Grasping his forearm lightly, I walked with him to the water’s edge. I assumed he would pause to remove the last of his clothing before we got in, but he stepped into the water without hesitation.

When he was immersed to his waist, he turned and offered me his hands. Twice in one day? Very strange for a Vulcan. Laying my palms in his upturned ones, I walked slowly forward, descending the three carved steps into the water until I was practically standing in his arms. The heat radiating off his chest made my cheeks burn as I looked up into his eyes.

Koss swallowed before taking a slow step back in the water and releasing my hands. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he looked as flustered as I felt.

“I thought Vulcans didn’t wear clothes to go swimming?” My voice was shakier than I’d hoped it would be when I finally spoke, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glanced down at his doused pants.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t certain that you would be comfortable with that,” he explained, and I couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

“Koss, that’s really thoughtful of you, and I appreciate you taking my feelings into account, but I don’t want you to sacrifice your comfort just to satisfy what you believe mine to be,” I said as I stepped a little deeper into the pool and the water level finally rose above my chest. The crisp, cool water felt heavenly swirling around my skin. “I’m quite capable of adapting to changes.”

“I do not doubt that.” The wry humor in his tone made me smile. “You had adapted to the Forge rather well prior to your lirpa injuries, and you seem to be taking to your change in residence with ease.”

Oh. He’d meant it logically. Of course. How had I thought I’d heard humor? My wishful thinking was going to end up making an idiot out of me.

Shaking off my momentary lapse, I changed the subject to Vulcan literature - a topic which allowed us to talk and swim for several hours that night. When my new friend tossed me a towel and we both returned to our respective homes for the night, the sight of Koss stepping out of the spring with water droplets clinging to his bare torso was seared into my memory. For the next several days, that damnable image popped into my head at the most inopportune times, plaguing me with inappropriate thoughts and distractions.

Even Soval noticed my preoccupation. He was kind enough not to ask what was on my mind more than once - my reluctance proved to be an effective deterrent for once - and he even saw fit to teach me a Vulcan technique that helped me clear my mind.

Just when I thought I’d forced my imagination back into safe territory regarding Koss, that’s when it all fell apart. I ventured back down to the spring under the foolish, arrogant assumption that I had my mind firmly under control. The siren call of the cold water promised a nice, calm, relaxing night and relief from the unrelenting heat of Vulcan’s suns.

Too bad Koss had other plans. When I descended into the cavern once more, my jaw dropped. My Vulcan neighbor was meditating again, but this time he was entirely without clothing. Biting my lower lip, I tried to behave as I normally would, hoping he hadn’t noticed how long I’d been lingering in the doorway. Without saying a word, I removed my robe, laid it over the cabinet as I had before, and used all my focus to walk toward the water without sneaking a peek at Koss’s...endowment.

As I neared the edge, however, a quiet call of my name forced me to turn toward him. I looked down where he’d been sitting, but my eyes ended up where they shouldn’t, and–

Oh.

Koss had stood up, and he was very well-equipped. My eyes flicked quickly back up to his, and I hoped he couldn’t tell how hard I was biting the inside of my cheek.

“Shall I lay out a towel for you?” How could he sound so casual when he’d just caught me checking him out?

“I-I...Yes, please. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.” I mentally cringed at how breathy I sounded. Blessedly, he didn’t comment on how brightly my cheeks were burning. On shaky legs, I made my way down the steps and dove under the water. I hoped that the low temperature would help cool me down in more ways than one.

Alas, it was a futile effort.

Coming up for air near the spring’s side, I flicked my wet hair out of my eyes and grasped the smooth stone of the outer rim as I drew a deep breath. There Koss stood with his back to me, putting two towels aside for us. He had a few scars here and there which only added to my curiosity about him. I knew I should look away, but he was so handsome. Surely it was logical to admire beauty when one found it in another...wasn’t it?

Oh, who was I kidding? Anyone would have scowled at my absurd justification for such an emotional reaction to seeing a bit of skin, especially a Vulcan like him. After all, this wasn’t anything sexual to Koss. What I saw as swimming nude was simply swimming to him. It was normal for his people, and I shouldn’t have allowed my hormones to control my thoughts for as long as I did. Taking a deep breath, I tried to behave more calmly as my companion joined me.

“How was your day?” I didn’t dare look over at him until I was certain the water was high enough to cover his modesty. Koss sounded so matter-of-fact.

“It went well. Soval and I have been working with an Andorian diplomat about establishing a trade agreement. My experience with Commander Shran and his crewmates from the Kumari have given me a baseline for establishing the Ambassador’s mood, so our discussions have been mostly cordial.” I didn’t want to ramble too much, so I gave Koss a smile and reciprocated his interest. “What about you? Design any new architectural masterpieces?”

“Not yet, but I was commissioned to design a new wing for the Earth Embassy today. I was told that it should be suitable for Andorian residents. Presumably, the Andorian Ambassador whom you mentioned sees the potential for a positive outcome if he wishes to remain. Logically, it stands to reason that he has recommended his government assign a more permanent delegation,” Koss explained as he swam to my side. “You have obviously made quite an impression.”

His arm brushed against mine just beneath the surface of the water, and something electric passed between us. Had Koss felt that too, or was I just going insane?

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’m sure it was Ambassador Soval who swayed him. I was just there to smooth out a few rough edges, that’s all.”

“Then why would the Andorians request a residence for their diplomats inside the Earth Embassy? If the Ambassador truly thought nothing of your own involvement, it would be more logical to request a separate space.” Koss’s logic was sound. I hadn’t considered it that way.

I thanked him quietly, and we moved onto different topics. Over the two months that followed, our evening swims became an almost nightly ritual. Our conversations flowed more smoothly as we grew more comfortable around each other. Pretty soon, Koss was able to read me like a book, and I’d gotten better at doing the same for him.

Our banter became more casual and frequently entertained us well past our respective bedtimes. Well, at least past my own bedtime. Vulcans didn’t need as much sleep as Humans, so usually when I left for the night, Koss settled in to meditate before heading to his bed. He’d pretty much given up on attempting the practice beforehand.

Tonight, I hadn’t intended to come back down after I’d bid Koss a good night, but I’d gotten up to my living area to find it storming. I’d been through several storms on Vulcan before, but none had been quite as loud as this. Making sure the rooftop garden was covered, I got into a pair of pajamas, grabbed a blanket, and wandered back down to the spring.

It was so blessedly quiet down there. The reverberations of the much-louder-than-Earth’s thunderclaps were entirely silenced in the caverns, so it was the logical place for me to go.

Koss looked up from his meditation at the sound of my feet against the stone.

“Ensign? You should be resting. Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just storming pretty loudly, and I figured I’d have a calmer night down here,” I explained, and Koss tilted his head curiously. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all, but...does Earth not have storms?” If he hadn’t asked it with such earnest innocence, I’d have guessed that Koss was messing with me.

“We do, but they tend to be quieter. Normally, I can sleep through thunderstorms just fine, but the ones here on Vulcan are somewhat more vocal,” I said walking over to the large pile of cushions. As I’d discovered a few weeks prior, they were all massed atop a large, silk-sheet-covered mattress to form an absolutely luxuriant sleeping area. I moved a few of the pillows out of the way and propped myself up with one. Just as I draped my blanket over my legs, Koss extinguished his candles and came to join me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It is of no consequence. Tonight, I lacked the necessary concentration, so I would not have accomplished much anyway. I will repeat the attempt in the morning,” he stated simply as he moved a few cushions as well and reclined beside me. He’d donned only his pants since I’d attempted to go to bed earlier. His robe still lay over the cabinet where he’d placed it. “As it stands, I would much rather take this opportunity to speak further with you.”

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“Only when I am conversing with you, it seems,” he murmured, and I couldn’t stop the little huff of laughter that bubbled out of me. Over the duration of our friendship, I’d worked out that Koss enjoyed seeing me flustered. Tonight was obviously no exception.

We talked for a while longer before I started drifting off. I mumbled an apology, but Koss just convinced me to lie down and tugged my blanket a little farther up my body. He lounged on his side next to me and gave me an almost-smile that made my fuzzy little brain melt even further as I struggled to keep my eyelids open. “Sleep. I’ll make sure you wake up in time to get ready for your shift at the Embassy.”

How could I argue with that? Nodding my head silently, I snuggled into the veritable pile of pillows and let myself glide slowly into unconsciousness. Koss said something in Vuhlkansu, but it eluded the feeble grasp of my sleep-addled mind. It could wait. So could the gentle fingertips that brushed over the apple of my cheek as dreamland took me.

Low, gentle words wafted over my ears, but all I could do was let out a sleepy little sound.

“I apologize, ashalik, but it is morning. You need to wake up.” I knew that voice. It was such a nice one...soft, warm...safe...

“Koss?” Even half-asleep I was aware enough to recognize that I sounded at least as disheveled as I probably looked. Blinking slowly, I looked up to see Koss kneeling beside me, not one iota more dressed than he had been before we’d slept with the exception of mussed hair.

“Good morning. I apologize for keeping you up so late,” he said as he looked into my eyes almost sheepishly.

“Oh hush. I always enjoy spending time with you. I’m surprised we haven’t stayed up that late before now,” I said as I forced myself to sit up. As soon as I did, he turned and grabbed a tray. “You made breakfast?”

A slight blush colored his cheeks as he set the tray between us and passed me one of the bowls.

“I did. It was logical to assume that you would be hungry when you awoke,” he stated as he handed me a spoon. “Besides, you made a meal for me. I thought it fitting that I should return the favor. The gespar are freshly picked, so they should still taste their best.”

I looked up at him slightly alarmed when I processed what he’d said.

“Did you go out in the storm to pick them?” He held up a hand calmly and shook his head.

“The storm’s cycle came to an end before I went to make the morning meal. I assure you, I did not risk my safety, though I do appreciate your concern,” he explained, and I turned my gaze down to my food so I wouldn’t embarrass myself further. Koss had made what looked like something similar to oatmeal only it was blue with sliced fruit - gespar, I should say - laid in a semi-circle over the top.

“This looks delicious, Koss. Thank you.” When I moved into this home, I never thought I’d have breakfast with a shirtless Vulcan in an underground cave. Yet there I was. By the time we went our separate ways to begin the day, I was more content than I had been since my transfer.

~*~*~

Vulcan words:

ashalik = darling

#deepspacedukat fic #koss x reader #Koss of Vulcan #Koss the Vulcan Architect #mentions of nudity #smut adjacent

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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You again, Spider | Spider-Man Prequel Series P.7

Follows the events of Spider-Man 2

Catch up on parts 1–6 -> Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x female!reader/ Black Cat (romantic), tobey!peter x Mary Jane Watson (only for S1), Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Eddie Brock, Norman Osborn, Otto Octavius, J. Jonah Jameson (pretty much every character from the Raimi trilogy)

Content Warnings: profanity, criminal activity, flirtatious banter | Female reader (she/her)

Premise: Peter’s plans never seem to work out—which has become more prominent as he struggles to balance both a civilian and superhero life. Unable to see MJ’s show, Peter starts his night on patrol only to find himself in a pickle when his webs seem to fail on him. And he’s not the only one to witness it happen, because a curious cat lurks in the shadows.

Note: I know this is short, but the next few will be longer I promise.

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One second Peter Parker, donned in red and swinging across New York city after failing to make it to Mary Janes show, thinks everything is going to be fine. He’ll get to class early, apply for another job, and try to get MJ to forgive him. Then the next second, he finds himself in a pickle. A pickle in which he’s falling through the air and landing, very hard, on the roof of a building. Thankfully the air vent tunnel broke his fall.

But his back was going to take the brute of it.

Peter was sure all of New York could hear his scream. Limbs failing all around until eventually he let out a nasty grunt upon making impact. Huffing, he pulled himself up and cranked his neck. ‘What the hell?’ He thought to himself. What occurred had never happened before. There was already so much going on, the last thing Peter needed was for his powers to start acting up. As hand started to rise, preparing to take off his mask, a faint giggle stopped him before he could. A familiar giggle at that.

Turning around, Peter froze when he located the source. “You,” he said aloud. She was sitting perched on the ledge of the opposite building looking down on him. The Black Cat. The name of New York’s newly infamous cat burglar, dubbed by J. Jonah Jameson of the Daily Bugle himself. For almost two years she’s managed to rob over a thousand businesses and high profiled individuals—all while keeping out of Spider-Man’s reach. Rumor has it the Black Cat has been working for the organized crime boss Kingpin.

Like Spider-Man, no one has successfully identified the woman. It’s said her white hair is actually a wig, the color of her eyes are contacts, the mask she wears muffles her voice and there’s no hints as to what her background may be. All that was known about the cat burglar was she was great at breaking & entering, handling a grappling hook, and making a fashion statement. Since she rose to ‘fame’ there had been an increase in black leather sales.

And here she was looking down at Peter with a glint in her eyes. “You again, Spider.” There was no doubt she just witnessed him fall several stories and break his back and ass on the vent tunnel. It’s a good thing she laughed, otherwise Peter would’ve exposed himself. “That look liked it hurt.”

“Well it sure didn’t feel like a massage, that’s for sure.”

Another giggle, “What happened, Spider? Got your webs in a twist?”

“Feels like it,” he mumbled, but she heard nonetheless. Her eyebrow quirked up, almost disappearing beneath the black outline of her mask. Peter shook his head before asking, “Been busy tonight causing trouble?” The twitch beneath her mask gave him the answer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She pushes off the ledge, landing on the roof of the building he was on in a cat-like pose. As she stood she said, “it’s been busy these days. I’ve moved up in the ranks than just a simple gem burglar.”

Tension filled Peter, eyes narrowing under his mask. “So it’s true then. You’re working for Fisk?”

“More like returning some favors I owe him.” She walked over slowly, but doesn’t get close enough. It was tempting for Peter to shoot a web at her, to prevent her from getting away, but given it just failed to swing him there was a chance it would not work. She probably knew this too and was testing him.

“He’s a dangerous man.”

Something flashed in her eyes. “All men are dangerous.” Peter wanted to defend himself, but knew it would do no good. There obviously was a deeper meaning to her words. Part of him wanted to know, but out of respect he did not question her.

Instead he changed the subject. “So…I’m sorry I don’t know what to call you? Black Cat? Cat? Person who’s calling me trouble?”

“ooo I like trouble,” she hums, hopping onto a thin ledge to balance herself. Peter nearly rushes when it looks like she stumbles in her high heels, but she simply was doing a turn. “Cat is also nice. Fits since I call you Spider.”

Peter tries to ignore the anxiety filling him as she continues to spin and twirl on the ledge. One wrong move and she would go over the building. And unlike his downfall, there would only be hard pavement to catch her fall.

But then again she had her grappling hook and managed just fine for two years. Maybe he was worrying too much.

“Anyways….Cat, what’s caused you to just..” he waves his hands awkwardly and she just tilts her head him. Peter then sighs, “you know. For two years you’ve kept hidden from me. Now all of a sudden you—.”

“Well when you hear Spider-Man screaming for dear life and literally falling out of the sky, it makes one curious don’t you think?” She does a handstand, making Peter’s breath catch before coming down and flipping off onto the roof. “I know, I know, curiosity is what killed the cat. But considering your….technical difficulties regarding your webs, I doubt that will happen tonight of all nights.”

He scoffs, “don’t get too cocky now.” It only makes her giggle, rolling her eyes in the process. When she does another spin he catches sight of the grappling hook attached to her side. “I take it was a slow night then, considering you stopped whatever it was to come check on me.”

“Check on you?” She repeats amused, then gives a shrug. “I guess you can call it that. Would’ve been tragic to find New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man knocking on deaths door. What happened anyway?” He could hear the curiosity in her tone. It made him unease, for she could surely take advantage of the situation at any second.

“I’m really not sure,” he says honestly, glancing down to his wrists. He pulls the suit down slightly to check and finds nothing wrong with it. “Some kind of spoof. B-but I’m sure it won’t happen again,” he rushes out urgently, assuring mostly himself than her. She just gives a ‘hmmm.’

A few seconds of silence pass over them. Neither knowing what to say next. It felt a little awkward, but then again what does a superhero and their criminal nemesis talk about after two years since their last encounter?

Then she started to snap her fingers, pointing him as if she was trying to put a name to something. “You know, there’s something familiar about you. But I just can’t put a name to it.” Peter tenses lightly, tilting his head as he stares back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms, bringing her pointer finger to her chin to tap it. “There’s something about your…..aura, I guess. Like I’ve met you outside of this,” she gestures between them. Again, a rush anxiety fills Peter. What if she was right? Could they have they met at some point in the civilian world?

It was possible. But New York is huge with millions of people alone in the city. Maybe Peter walked passed her on the street and had no idea. Or photographed her in the background in one of his photos. Maybe he was just some bloke to her who bumped into her on the subway. Whatever it was Peter didn’t dwell on it. As long as he didn’t give himself away than he was safe.

It would be bad news if a associate of Wilson Fisk knew his identity.

“Eh, who am I kidding?” She then chuckles, making him relax. “Big city, big world. I’ve robbed people who’ve met me in everyday life and they have no idea. Gotta love living this life off the grid.”

“Hehe. Yeah,” he scratches his neck. Crisis averted. Peter then looks at her both with curiosity and suspicion. “Why do you do it anyway? Rob high profile people like it’s nothing?”

There’s a light scoff from the Cat, her hand brushing hair from her face. “Wouldn’t you if you had the chance?”

“Committing crimes is not really my forte, as you can see.”

“Well duh,” she rolls her eyes again. “How could you be the cities favorite vigilante if you did? Anyway the point is, Spider, I don’t take from those who are in need of it. Basically they’ll still be fine if they were to lose a couple thousand dollars or that watch worth 25k, or even one of their dozen cars collecting dust in a garage.”

All Peter could do was let his mouth slightly part open. Of course she didn’t see it. “It’s still stealing,” he tells her, hand going out as if to emphasize his point. “You’re still committing a crime.” While he could agree that it was unfair how the rich slept comfortably at night while thousands of people were homeless or barely making it day by day, the law was still the law.

“Ugh,” she made a gagging sound while waving a hand. “Self-righteousness is so overrated, Spider. Think of all that could be done if they were to give up just a faction of what they make. Kids in the orphanage would have plenty of clothes and food and things to keep them entertained. The soup kitchen and shelter could house more people on the street and give them a warm bed at night. Schools in the projects would be funded.” With each sentence she got more passionate, he could see it in her eyes.

The thought then crossed him, “Are you saying you don’t keep the things you steal?” There was a flare of respect and admiration to the burglar. “You essentially give it back to those in need.”

There’s a flicker of pride in her eyes as she nods, “Although I do keep a small percentage to myself. As a treat, you know. But the majority does go to those things. There are more people in this city deserving of it than some greedy corporate scammers.”

Peter was astonished. Never has he met someone so selfless—ignoring the part where she does keep a bit because honestly he couldn’t blame her—but still, not many criminals were like her. There was still the question though, “Why Fisk?”

“Like I said, favors.”

“Okayyyy,” he draws out, “But how? He’s the most dangerous and well known crime boss in the city. How does a lone cat burglar get on his radar?” Something in her gaze told him she wasn’t in the mood to get into it. The talk of curiosity killing the cat dawned on him—only it was in regards to him and not the one with the namesake.

“Let’s save that for another day, Spider. Long stories require time and that’s something you and I don’t have right now. Better to leave things unsaid—for safety reasons of course.” He sees her glance over her shoulder, as if to check if someone is watching. Then he remembered Fisk always had spies at the ready for his employees.

“Sure thing,” he agrees, also taking a moment to scout the area. Luckily nothing was out of the ordinary. The only thing they could hear was the sounds coming from down below.

She clapped her hands, the sound making him jump slightly. “Well then, this is where I take my leave. It was fun running into you again—although it was very unorthodox if I must say.” She starts to walk toward the ledge, Peter follows her but keeps distance. When her back is to him he attempts a web in her direction, but nothing comes out. “Nice try,” she calls out, causing him to freeze as heat takes over his body.

“Couldn’t hurt to try,” he mumbles under his breath.

She laughs, spinning on her heal to face him. White hair whips against the slight breeze and her hand goes to her grappling hook. “I’ll be seeing you, Spider,” she makes a motion of her eyes to his. “Hopefully you’re little problem will be fixed. Can’t have a spider without it’s web.”

The young man sighs, defeated and annoyed by the timing. Finally the Black Cat was in his grasps, but he failed to catch her once again. “Catch you later, Cat. Literally.” The last word makes her laugh again, this time harder with her head tilting back. She even wipes away a fake tear much to his annoyance.

“You’re funny, Spider.” The grappling hook removes from it’s holster. “You’re an optimist. I’ll give you that.” With one last wink followed by a ‘see ya,’ the hook shoots off to the adjacent building, pulling the woman off her feet and into the air. She swings past Peter and out of his sight. Gone in the blink of an eye.

All Peter could do was drop his head to his shoulders, shaking it as it goes. First disappointing MJ, then his web situation, now loosing the Cat amongst it all. Luck was just not in the cards for Peter Parker. Or Spider-Man.

Would he ever get a break? Not even an elevator ride would give him that.

………………..

Tag list: @todaywasafairytale07, @r0bynsblogins, @edgycatx, @gwephen, @fuck-goes-on, @m-1234, @secretsthathauntus, @grippleback-galaxy

#spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #tobey!spiderman #tobey!peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #black cat #black cat reader #black cat imagine #peter parker x y/n #tobey!peter parker imagine #tobey!peter imagine #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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c-rose2081 · 2 years

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Starchild || 20. Belonging

(Disney Z-O-M-B-I-E-S)

—

“I wish you weren’t doing this, Zed.”

A-ddison’s voice was barely a rasp; practically a whisper coming from nearly an hour of absolute silence. Outside her window, night had already fallen, leaving only a faint tinge of orange across the back of the horizon. Zed sat in front of his girlfriends (he could call her that now!) desk, as he had been for a while now, hands gripping his hair in thought. A-ddison had previously been sleeping, wrapped around her Shrimpy toy and an ice pack while Zed ‘studied’.

Except…hadn’t really been studying, either. He’d been staring at the same math problem for what felt like an eternity. No, he was far too busy glancing at his z-band — watching the time tick closer to 10:30 — his mind filled with thoughts of how horribly wrong this plan could go. Breaking into z-corp wasn’t harmless…it was criminal. He’d not only screw things up for Zombietown if he got caught, but would probably be arrested (or worse). It was a terrible idea on all fronts, one he shouldn’t have even been considering.

Yet as he turned to face A-ddison, pure crystalline eyes (one’s that could reflect even the most distant of universes) once again took the wind from his chest. She was just…so pretty, fully laid out across the sheets, silhouette outlined by the fading light. He could make out faintly glowing stripes from under her tank top, and a long, blue tipped tail was wrapped elegantly around the bedpost. Turquoise hair the same color as the sea cascaded in rivulets across the pale blankets, framing two eyes of a similar hue.

The disjointed diamond shaped marking on Addy’s forehead pulsed in perfect time with her heart, and from that diamond a straight white line traversed the curves of her face to split her features perfectly in half. The facial marking rose and fell with every dip and curve, caressing pale pink lips, and traveling down the front of her neck. The line was a tease, as Zed could follow it all the way to the ‘U’ of Addy’s tank top’s hem before it vanished under fabric, making him wonder how far down it actually went…

*You’re thinking very loudly, you know.*

Blinking at the voice echoing in his mind, Zed ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he fumbled, “how much…?”

“All of it,” A-ddison told him faintly, “you flatter me.”

“It’s nothing but the truth,” Zed shrugged, leaning on his knees, “how are you feeling?”

“A bit better,” Addy sighed, still clutching the cheerleading shrimp Zoey had given to her, “I’m…concerned about this mission, Zed.”

“Me too,”

“I’m sure there’s another way. I…I’ve been listening to your thoughts, I know how many ways this could go wrong.”

“A-ddison,” Zed chided unhappily, though he couldn’t really be mad. Not when she was laid out like that, staring up at him in the most innocent (worried) way. Her antennae flattened, giving away her guilt as she pursed her lips.

“I’m sorry. But this thing you’re doing is illogical and dangerous…”

“A-ddison, someone knows something out there. Maybe about you; about us? I don’t know who, and I don’t know what their intentions are. But I don’t wanna wait and find out.”

“Zed, you have a life here. Please don’t throw that away.”

“I was nothing until you crash landed into my life,” Zed grumbled, folding his hands, “I was just going through the motions. I was pretending; lying to everyone about who I supposedly am. But then you came and tore me to pieces, and put me back together. I can’t imagine where I’d be without you here, Addy, which is all the more reason we need to get you back home.”

“Let me come,” the girl croaked, “let me do this with you.”

“No. Your wounds are still to fresh, and they’re looking for you as an alien, and as a human. I’ll do this alone. If I fail, no one else takes the fall for me.”

“There’s no changing your mind,” A-ddison sighed, stating her words more as a fact than a question. But Zed nodded firmly anyway, rubbing his hands together over his knees. He could tell there was something else A-ddison wanted to say, but was holding it back, “did you think for a moment that I maybe wanted to stay?”

Zed frowned at his girlfriend, furrowing his brows as she stared forlornly at his shoes.

“I…no, I didn’t think about that,” he admitted, “I thought you’d be happy to be reunited with your family. You’re always so sad when you talk about them.”

“It’s true I hold incredible fondness for my siblings, and I do miss them terribly,” Addy sighed, “but ever since I was a Young One, it’s always felt like I was some sort of…treasure to them. Something they chose to protect; an obligation of sorts bestowed upon them the day I arrived. It’s nothing like what you have with Zoey. The whispers of warmth I felt as a child are gone; chased away by the coldness of space. They can get along better without me. I like it here, Zed. I like the colors, and the feelings…it’s…” A-ddison paused, no doubt trying to choose the right word, “it’s like a Utopia. I don’t want to leave.”

“Addy…”

“I know that not what you want,” A-ddison stopped him, “and I’m sure if the situation were different, you wouldn’t be so insistent on sending me away…”

“Don’t put it like that,” Zed mumbled, “you know I don’t want to live without you. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like…”

“Then we can find another way,” A-ddison insisted again, “please Zed.”

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” Zed stated, “not again. Never again,” Zed flexed his hand, wincing at the thought of the wound still healing on A-ddison’s ribs. The one he caused.

“You know I already forgave you,” Addy said, rolling her eyes as he made a face of discontent, “I don’t need to read your mind to know what you’re thinking about, Zed. You’re easy to read. One of the things I love about you.”

“It’s still strange,” he mused, “how fast we happened. Having you as my girlfriend.”

“I don’t think it’s strange,” A-ddison shrugged, avoiding his gaze, “on the Mothership, it wouldn’t have been my choice at all who I was to spend the rest of my life with.”

“And you’d have just gone along with it?” Zed wondered, a bit bothered by the idea of A-ddison being with someone else, “no questions asked?”

“It’s…normal, Zed. So willingly putting your life into the hands of your Elder? Trusting that they won’t make a choice that would be un-beneficial to the survival of our people. It’s been that way for hundreds of years.

“But you aren’t taken into account.”

“No. Some Elders, like my Older A-Spen, are more than willing to involve the one being mated in the process. But how the pair feels about the match is not usually considered once begun. It’s between the Elders of the two families, and the numeric probability of success. It’s why the idea of ‘love’ doesn’t exist where I come from.”

“Because it’s not love,” Zed confirmed, “it’s a trade.”

“It saved our species from extinction,” A-ddison told him flatly, “but is nothing more than that.”

“So…you…us, falling in love? Being together? Would you have fallen in love with the first person you came across here on Earth?”

“No,” A-ddison frowned, as though offended by the idea, “when I was born, I lived here on Earth, just like you. I was human before I was A-Lurian. I don’t think the time I spent here ever left my memory, no matter how hard my Great One tried to make me forget. I’ve been fighting with it my whole life. Trying to be something I’m not…just like you. It’s easy to recognize kinship when you come across it, Zed. And, at least for us, those who understand one another have a better chance of being content when matched.”

“You told me you didn’t fit in,” Zed asked, “when we first met, you understood me better than my own Dad does sometimes. How…how bad was it, growing up?”

A-ddison, for the first time since the conversation begun, hesitated. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and her antennae flattened back. She clearly wasn’t fond of this particular subject, “sorry,” Zed apologized quickly, “you don’t have to answer that.”

“It…” Addy halted and swallowed thickly, expression turning from one of worry, to one of very faint pain, “it isn’t the A-Lurian way to demean others. We value harmony and unity amongst ourselves. But it’s still in the nature of all creatures to dominate one another. In my cultures past, I would’ve been killed before my first birthday for my differences. That kind of ideal can be dissuaded — it can be looked down upon — but it takes far longer then a mere millennium to fade. Ever since I was young, those who displayed the A-Lurian ideal reminded me every second how much I didn’t fit in. They would use words to hurt me, because I couldn’t stop myself from feeling them. And when that no longer worked, they would find new, more painful ways to assert themselves over another who they deemed…worthless.��

“And your siblings didn’t do anything about this?” Zed fumed, clenching his fists, “what about your Grandma?”

“Zed, my Great One and I were very close, but she stopped caring for me when I was ten. Independence is nurtured early on in A-Lurian culture. Exceptions are not often given in that respect. I lived with my siblings; and though they did their best, they can’t be there all the time. It was expected of me to handle myself, to grow stronger on my own. Something I…well, struggled to do. It got easier when A-Spen was promoted to Captain — messing with the Captain’s family is a serious matter — but that was only a year ago.”

“Is that why you don’t want to go back?” Zed wondered honestly, “it sounds miserable.”

“It certainly helped me grow into some of my A-Lurian traits,” A-ddison sighed, using her hand to gently remove her tail from where it rest around the bedpost, “running and hiding are useful skills to have; but I also learned how to face danger with dignity. A trait we share, apparently.”

A-ddison smiled faintly, and Zed ran a hand across the back of his neck, “I’m not usually afraid of the future, Zed. But what happens tonight could mean that future doesn’t have you in it. And that scares me more than anything.”

“Me too,” Zed agreed, rising from his chair and stretching. He needed to leave soon, if he were to make Bucky’s rendezvous, “I have to go.”

A-ddison sighed, nodding against the pillow.

“I know.”

“I’ll be back soon, ok?” Walking to the bed, Zed leaned down and gave his girlfriend a gentle kiss to the temple, running a hand through her curls.

“Just promise you’ll come back,” A-ddison half-begged him, “please, Zed. If there’s nothing I can say to stop you from doing this, at least promise you’ll come back.”

“I promise,” he nodded, fully meaning it despite how his gut twisted in pain, “rest up. I’ll be back before morning. Gar gar gaza, A-ddison.”

Zed expected her to say it back; the ‘I love you’ which they’d shared only a few times before. Instead, she stared up at him with her huge eyes, and spoke a language he didn’t understand. It was elegant and foreign to him, yet he knew it meant something incredibly profound. Something that meant more to A-ddison then a mere I love you, when she knew he was, in essence, going off to war and leaving her behind.

“Apura enic ashaxt ailohoieoshi, Xedenon.”

May the stars guide you home, precious Zed.

—

@theredrenard

@disneyfan50

@rose-sparks13

@magical-ashley

@kokinu09

@octolingo-writes

@fantasticvoidnerdshoe

@sayorseee

@zeddisonss

@uglyduckling339

@descendantofthesparrow

@mbradshaw1997

@mmultifandommultishipper

#disney zombies #starchild au #alternate universe #zeddison #so much zeddison guys #fluff #zed necrodopolis #addison wells #z o m b i e s 3 #z o m b i e s 2 #z o m b i e s #dcom #disney #disney fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #world building #lore building

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tiredassmage · 1 year

Text

inconvenient alliances

Idk what titles are, what do you mean I have to title things? Anyway, I finished Hoth, so that means *beaming more comp!au smuggy things onto ur screen*

“We meet again, Captain.” Cee’s eyes narrowed at the SIS agent leaned against the airlock elevator. He stood as she got closer, hands folding neatly - perhaps instinctively, given his fluidity - behind his back. “I’m sorry for the lack of notice. I was hoping to catch you before you took off.”

“I believe our business was concluded, agent.” Cee frowned. She shrugged a little deeper into her thick coat. She just wanted off of this ice ball. It was like the freeze was still sinking down through her bones.

Oliver eyed her for a moment, the faint rise of his shoulders betraying a carefully inhaled deep breath. “Senator Dodonna would like otherwise, Captain. It would seem she’s had me reassigned.”

Her pale blue eyes narrowed sharply. “Consider your next moves very carefully, spyboy.”

Oliver waved a hand in placation. “Your mistrust is well-placed, Captain, I understand. But I think you misunderstand my intent. I’m not interested in trouble.”

Cee huffed a chuckle and jammed a finger against the elevator button. “Talkin’ to me? I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong place, then.”

Oliver’s lips quirked up in amusement in one corner. “No trouble between you and me then, I hope.”

“Alright,” Cee relented, “I’ll bite.” The elevator coughed up a notification of its arrival. “Walk and talk with me though, spyboy. I’m still freezing.”

Oliver stepped with her into the elevator. She punched the button for her airlock and folded her arms with a sniff against the way the end of her nose still felt frozen. In such a tight space, she was suddenly… quite aware that the agent was… rather tall.

Her nose scrunched as she begrudgingly realized she had to look up to meet his steady steel-colored gaze.

“Well, spyboy? The lady senator so displeased with the absence of her little toy that she’s gonna have you spyin’ on me now?”

The agent slightly dipped his head. “That… would be appearances, wouldn’t it?”

“Quite,” Cee said dryly.

“I didn’t tell her anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Cee frowned, her brow knitting together tighter.

The agent leaned a shoulder against the wall and propped a foot as he folded his arms across his chest. “Technically, Captain, my assignment for the SIS was on the Empire’s activities. It is unfortunate we weren’t able to recover the tech, but… it is safely outside the Empire’s grasp as well.”

“You’re joking.”

Oliver met her scrutinizing gaze evenly without flinching. “We were both there, were we not?”

The elevator shuddered again as they reached the airlock and the door opened. Cee eyed him up and down once more.

He was a bit easier to take in now - cleaned up and out from under a couple thermal protective layers. A faint outline around his eyes had set in from months under goggles in the reflected glare off the ice and he was maybe due for a bit of a cleaner shave. What rough and misshapen edges there was to it seemed out of place against the confident set of his broad shoulders.

“I don’t really have much of a choice if it’s from the lady Senator, do I?” she tested.

Oliver shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose neither of us really do. But I think we’ll get a lot more done if we work together.” He straightened and offered out a hand. “What say you, Captain? Think we can get along enough to work together again?”

Cee smacked a hand against the door controls, reminding them to stay open for a moment longer. She caught Oliver puff a faint breath of amusement out of the corner of her eye.

Alright. She clapped a hand into his and gave it a shake before she waved him out after her. “D’you know much about starships, agent?”

Oliver jogged a stride to fall in step beside her. “I’ve been taught my fair share about how to pilot.”

“Paws off,” Cee fired off with a haphazard grin. “And I’ve already got a mechanic.”

Oliver shook his head, though a smile started across his lips. “Fear not, Captain. You lead, I’m content to follow.”

He slowed, so Cee stopped with him. “Captain?” She cocked her head inquisitively at him. “That was some damn fine work out there. I’m looking forward to working together more.”

“Let’s look forward to it on my ship,” Cee said. “I told you, I’m freezing,” she grumbled.

“No complaints there, Captain. I think I’ve had my fill of Hoth.”

“You get stuck in many wampa caves here, agent?”

Oliver chuckled. “Can’t say I did, Captain.”

“Oh, lucky you,” Cee cooed. Her nose crinkled again in distaste. “Wouldn’t recommend it, mind.” She cuffed his arm roughly. “And enough ‘Captain’ nonsense, agent. My name’s Cee.”

“I suppose that makes my name ‘agent.’“

When she shot a narrowed eye look back at him, an amused smirk had spread across his lips. She rolled her eyes. “Well, is it ‘Oliver’, or did you take a shining to ‘Shadowstalker‘ or whatever scary nonsense them pirates called you?”

“Nah, too dramatic.” Oliver waved a hand. “Think I’ll stick with ‘Oliver’ for a while. Keep things simple.”

Cee shook her head. “Whatever you say, spyboy. C’mon. Risha’s liable to leave us behind to freeze on this rock if we keep her waiting any longer.”

#swtor #swtor fanfic #vs: king and lionheart [smuggler!tyr]#cee still feels like a popsicle she'll warm up to him #my google doc for this little venture is turning into quite the mess lol #dot words

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Note

I have a Writing™️ question so I apologize on principle.

I absolutely love “Magnetic.” That can stand on its own. Specifically I’ve been thinking about it bc I’m trying to get myself to write more, and I’ve been debating writing a oneshot series, but I really don’t have much of a grasp on how to do that in the sense of having a common thread and a plot that has direction but the pieces can theoretically stand alone.

So overall my question is how do you approach oneshot collections? Do you follow a beat sheet or take a “fuck it, we ball” approach? A third option? Any insight would be appreciated.

Your writing is excellent, I can’t wait to read more.

Ahhh no feel free to ask writing questions, it's totally fine!!

I'll be honest, a lot of oneshot series that I've written are very fuck it, we ball. I usually write a oneshot with the intentions of it only being a oneshot, and then an idea just...Won't leave me alone. Old Dog very much started that way, it was supposed to be one smutty Bond fic and then it wound up being hideously long and multi-parted.

I think for me, writing a oneshot series...Has the element of common threads, but also has the ability to be read without the previous parts? Like I think you can sprinkle in elements that are specific to the previous chapters, but they can stand on their own...Like having a book that can stand on a shelf by itself but could also benefit from bookends.

...I'm certain that this makes no sense, I'm so sorry.

I will say that once I realize that something is going to be multi-parted, then I do write an outlines, which are usually single-pointed/bulletpointed with sections of dialogue that may've already popped into my head. These usually wind up getting changed or reshuffled.

I'm gonna pop a bit of a current outline for a Benedict Bridgerton x Reader from my notes app below for an idea of what I...Do? When I'm outlining?

Feel free to reply or reach out again if this did absolutely zilch to help

Reader nickname: Birdie “A better nickname for you,” You insisted, “You’re so bird-brained.” “That’s awfully harsh.” “Why do you call me that, anyway?” “Because you always twitter about, Birdie.” “Stop that.” “Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.” --

Chapter One - A Matter of Importance Reader is forced to return to London for her greatly-delayed coming out. “I heard that the queen mandated it.” “Did you.” “Mhm.” “…News travels fast in London. I’ve forgotten that.” “Then it’s true?” Eloise pressed. “As true as it was when I mentioned it at my club,” Archibald rounded into the room, “A letter arrived with the queen’s seal. Mother practically fainted.”

Chapter Two - A Matter of Perception

Reader is made to consider her prospects on the marriage market. She admits (to herself? Acknowledges?) that she has no intention of marriage, as her grandmother has left her a sizable inheritance in a trust—one that she’ll be able to live off of.

(“Why not simply marry Colin?” Benedict’s question made the both of you wince and scoff, glancing to one another before turning away again sharply. “I don’t know what your brother has been drinking, Colin, but I believe it’s turned.”)

#asks #replies #Writing #I'm sorry if this didn't help ! ! I hope that it did tho D:

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silverdelirium · 3 years

Text

STICKY WASHING MACHINE | D.M

summary: draco fucks scorpius’ nanny on the laundry room

warnings: breeding kink, rough sex.

———

“so do you accept?” asked draco to the girl who only stared at him with mouth slightly agape. “i-i mean i guess” she replied, not meeting his eyes.

“see you on monday then” nodded draco and turned on his heel, walking away.

y/n really didn’t know how they ended up on the topic of her being draco malfoy’s son’s nanny. it really wasn’t much work, a three year old baby just needed attention, food and sleep. but still, me out of all people? she thought, why did i even agree?

but here she was, beaming at the sight of scorpius’ new drawing which consisted on draco’s exaggerated tall figure, y/n and scorp. she sometimes felt bad that astoria was never in the picture, in every sense. she had left draco after scorpius turned 3 months old and never came back, draco explained this when they first reencountered, apparently it never really affected him. considering it was an arranged marriage.

“wow baby this is so good, i bet you’re gonna be an artist some day!” you exclaimed at him. he giggled and turned pink but a loud yawn cut his smile off. “i think it’s time for your nap, come on” she said, standing up and dusting off her skirt, scorpius holding up his arms.

y/n settled scorpius on bed and he was asleep in seconds, she chuckled and just snuggled the blanket closer to him. her eye caught a peek of scorpius’ laundry basket. sure, she was just a nanny that was supposed to take care of the child and that was it, the clothes were the elf’s work. but scorpius was terrified of them so draco took care of his clothes, y/n decided to just take his clothes to the laundry room and throw them inside the washing machine.

as y/n made her way to the laundry room, draco came through the fireplace that was at the whole other wing of the manor, making y/n unconscious of his presence.

draco gave a big sigh and immediately entered the kitchen for a glass of wine, opening up the cabinet that had one of the bottles opened already, courtesy of draco’s previous stress.

he knew scorpius must be asleep, taking notice of the silence that resonated through the manor’s atmosphere. in his midst of thinking, a few drops spilled from the rim his cup when he inclined it too harshly, making them spill on his white shirt. draco gave a groan at this and threw his head back.

narcissa always told draco that it was better to immediately wash clothing items if he ever spilled something on them. so he grumpily made his way to the laundry room.

as he got closer he could hear shuffling of clothes and a low humming, eventually stopping at the doorway to catch sight of y/n bent over, placing small clothing items into the washing machine. he went wide eyed at the peak he caught of her lace pink panties, cunt perfectly outlined.

draco was frustrated, sexually more than ever. he always found y/n hot, even in hogwarts, he remembers having a huge crush on her during fourth and fifth year, but they never really talked except for the polite hello’s and brief conversation when they were partnered in class.

right now, all the past emotions were coming back. and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her like he never did to a woman before. for hours and hours until she turned into nothing but a blabbering mess.

y/n eventually straightened up and went to pick more clothes, but she was met with a paralized draco on the doorframe.

“oh- hello draco, i didn’t know you were back” she saluted politely, going back to scorpius small basket that was placed on top of the dryer.

draco was snapped out of his trance at her voice, he swallowed hard before responding, “evening, just came to- uh put this in the washing machine” he gestured to his shirt, making her look at his chest but eventually trailing down to his very apparent bulge.

he saw how her eyes went wide but she said nothing and just gulped and nodded, gaze not meeting his.

the laundry room really wasn’t that big, making it hard for draco to pass y/n to go to the washing machine that was placed next to the dryer. but he still came in contact with her. his clothed cock pressing perfectly into her ass, a small gasp escaping her while draco grunted at the friction.

they both stilled.

y/n was the first to turn around, groin now pressing into her front, he was breathing heavily. and like magnets they connected together, tongues exploring each other’s mouth. draco’s hands rubbing her ass, down until the back of her thighs were in his large hands. he tapped them lightly, signaling her to jump, which she obliged instantly and jumped, draco hoisting her onto the washing machine.

he disconnected their lips to travel down to her neck, a small whine escaping her when he found her sweet spot. draco absolutely devouring the skin and littering it with purple hickeys. he eventually pulled away to take a good look at his little piece of art.

y/n brought him back into a heated kiss while unbuttoning his shirt, his own hands finding way to the hem of hers. once he shrugged off his shirt he helped her pull hers off, throwing it onto the floor. he pulled away from the kiss once again to look at her soft mounds that sat perfectly in a bra, he groaned at the sight as his cock twitched on his trousers.

“can i take this off sweet thing?” he asked, tone low as he hooked a finger on the bra strap.

y/n eagerly nodded, draco wasting no time and unclasping the bra in a quick motion, disregarding it to the side, mouth immediately attaching to her nipple while his hand toyed with the other. she gave a moan at this breathing heavily and leaning back on her palms, panties soaked and pussy throbbing.

draco kissed his way down to her stomach, dragging her skirt down until it hit the floor. he stepped back and admired with pure mesmerization at y/n’s form, tits with perked up nipples, dampened panties and breathing hard. “look at my pretty princess” he said, unbuckling his belt and lowering his pants low enough so his dick popped out.

she went wide eyed for the second time that evening at his size. draco was much bigger than anyone she had ever been with and he was just a very big person in general, she wasn’t sure she could take him all.

draco stroked his cock up and down slowly, tip red and leaking with pre-cum. he got closer to her and moved her panties to the side, eyes glinting when he saw her bare cunt, dripping.

“so wet baby” he said as he passed two fingers over her folds, y/n shuddering while he brought them up to his mouth and hummed at the taste, watching her face heat up.

“taste so good too” he growled, inching his face closer to her and leaning their foreheads together while his fingers plummeted themselves slowly into her, a loud moan escaping her lips.

he started moving them at a slow pace, almost torturous. watching intently as she released small whimpers and moans, his cock twitching every now and then.

he started scissoring his fingers inside of her, going faster. “ah! yes draco right there” she moaned out when he curled his fingers, touching that spongy spot inside her. “yeah? think you can take my cock now?” he questioned.

“yes” she replied quickly, pussy clenching at the thought of having him inside her, finally.

he seemed to notice this and chuckled, removing his fingers and dragging them to his cock once again, coating it with her juices. he guided it to her entrance and drenched the tip with her arousal, making y/n buck her hips up and whine.

“sh sh sh, now be patient little girl” he warned, fingers lightly tapping her clit, making her jolt and quickly shut up as she waited in anticipation.

draco entered y/n slowly with a groan, a strangled moan leaving her throat. he let her adjust to his size for a few moments before starting out on a decently fast pace, making her throw your head back and release several moans the faster he went, breasts bouncing everywhere, much to draco’s delight.

he settled for a brutal pace that had the washing machine shaking, watching her eyes go crisscross when he reaches to rub her clit.

“fuck baby look at this pretty pussy squeezing me, so fucking tight” he groaned, looking down at her juices dripping out, thighs glistening. “you have no idea how many times i’ve dreamt about this” he said, voice strained. she hummed in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down to another steamy kiss, he greedily ate every moan she made, her legs starting to tremble.

“fuck baby im close” he said when she pulled away for breath. “me too!” she replied, his thumb assaulting her clit harsher.

“yeah? gonna cum all over me? and then let me put my fucking cum inside you until your fucking pregnant?” he teased, moving his hands to grip her ass, y/n gave a loud moan in response and rapidly nodded, orgasm right at its peak. “fuckfuckfuck yes draco!” she screamed as she came, legs completely shaking and letting that coil snap while he fucked her faster, riding out her high while chasing his.

“shit, gonna cum so hard inside you and give you my kids princess” he groaned, his thrust sloppy when his orgasm hit him, releasing a loud moan as he came.

after they both calmed down from their highs he sighed in pleasure and looked down to her puffy cunt, he pulled out slowly and watched as her pussy spurted out both cums. he collected some on his fingers and held them up to y/n.

she opened her mouth and kept eye contact as she sucked on them, humming at the taste like he had done previously, making his once soft cock perk up immediately. she was gonna be the death of him.

she giggled at his reaction and got off the, now sticky washing machine due to their arousal on it, leaning her top half over it and arching her back. draco’s mouth agape at the view.

“round 2?” she taunted.

but right as draco was about to fuck her into tomorrow, a small paddle of feet could be heard in the distance with a faint “daddy? y/n?”.

———

part two

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @helleli @metaraxia @daddybutmakeitagirl @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @riddleswh0r3crux @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @dracosafety

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fic

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genshingarbage · 3 years

Note

can i req some genshin boys reacting when your nipples hardened from the cold weather?? (scara kazuha albedo xiao) 🥺

I see you picked the socially awkward/less kind boys to pick out hmm? Unfortunately I can't write for scara since I don't know enough about him yet, and I also don't think he's in our list of boys we officially write for right now anyway. But I can certainly do the other three for you- so I hope that's okay! - Mod Diluc

Genshin Boys Reacting To S/O Hard Nipples.

(Xiao, Kazuha, Albedo)

|| Head Cannons ||

Xiao

He's gonna blush. Instantly too.

He'll try act like he hasn't noticed and doesn't care, but he has, and he does. A lot.

He's gonna get mad because that's just his go to attitude toward anything he cannot properly handle.

He won't even know why he's made now either, mad at you? Or himself? No idea. He's just mad.

Couldn't possibly be because it's made him flustered to see your nipples become that perky, noooo, of course not.

A lot of clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact with you the moment he's seen it too.

How has she not noticed yet? He was boiling under his skin right now. His face had been flushed a light dusted pink this entire time now.

You were so unaware of your nipples just, there, clearly outlined through your thin silk top. Chatting away about some nonsense or another pointless thing Xiao didn't care for.

Even on normal days he can barely pay attention to you- so how on earth can he focus now when everytime he tries to make eye contact with you, your pert nipples are on full display for him.

"Xiao? Are you even listening!" You pouted your lip at him; unbelievable how he just picks and chooses when to listen to you, hmph!

You crossed your arms to add further theatrical disappointment his way, however you stiffened slightly when you felt your nipples hard as cut diamonds pressing against your arms.

Has she finally noticed? He was praying to the archons you had.

His question was answered when he saw the same flustered and embarrassed expression adorn your features now too.

So there you both stood... blushing, silent and looking like a pair of total idiots.

Kazuha

He will try act gentlemanly over the situation.

Natural reactions to the cold winds afterall; women can't help such a thing.

But he is a guy after all...

Its gonna take a lot of self control to stop his eyes from constantly darting down.

Stealing glances between words to see if they've finally stopped being so in his face.

But everytime he's gonna have to swallow down hard and regain focus because there they still are, hard as ever.

"Please elaborate." He replied to your previous statement.

If he can just keep you talking he doesn't have to worry about the constant crack in his wavering tone.

Was it really this cold out? Your nipples have been hard and painfully obvious to his eyes for some time now.

How is he suppose to continue to focus and carry on this idle pleasant chatter? When everytime he looks down he sees them as if you were stood there naked before him.

His cheeks were a faint pink, but it went unnoticed to you since it was so cold out; you rounded it up to his body reacting to the cold.

He wishes he could carelessly round up your reaction to the cold so nonchalantly too. But it was slowly eating away at him.

In the end it got too much for him to cope with.

"Y/N, please put on warmer clothing..." he muttered as his ears now went red at the tips.

You raised a brow in response, looking down at your body to see what was so bad about your clothing choice- oh! Oh dear...

Your cheeks also went a bright red now and you turned away embarrassed and rushed off to find a thick warm coat to put on...

Albedo

Completely oblivious for the most part.

He is busy in his experiments after all, or his painting; whichever one he's tending too at that current time.

But if he does finally turn to you and see, his cheeks are gonna be hotter than any fire he stands by when in Dragonspine.

He'll go back to his task at hand and try force all his focus onto that.

But if it becomes too bothersome for him, he will very quickly make you look yourself.

Why should he be forced to endure such an embarrassing and hard to restrain moment and you be let off free?

"That's wrong, I've already tried th-" He found his words left him quicker than his constant fleeting interests of several different experiments on a daily basis.

Your nipples were so hard right now... shockingly so considering you were wearing a slightly thick jumper.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the easel, continuing his painting on the canvas.

"I've already tried that. It was inconclusive." He shakily finished his sentence.

You scrunched your nose slightly with a low hum, now lost for answers.

You began to go back into deep thought again.

He remained uncomfortably awkward right now, its a normal human reaction, right?

She can't help this. He thought to himself.

But he couldn't help it was distracting him so much.

He couldn't focus on his painting anymore and it was becoming annoying; he didn't like distractions that he can't handle...

"Y/N, I think it's too cold for you out here. Maybe you should return back to camp and stay near a fire." He said bluntly.

His eyes met yours, you looked at him with a puzzled expression, he let his eyes slowly trail down your body to a certain point.

Out of confusion you looked down at your own body to follow his eyes line of sight and saw exactly what he was referring to.

With a face red and hot you turned away and headed back to camp as fast as you could.

He then casually continued his painting thinking to himself peacefully; fascinating, human bodies and their reactions. Gives me so many experimental ideas.

#genshinimpact #albedo #xiao #kazuha #genshin headcannons #Mod Diluc #genshin blog #albedo headcannons #xiao headcannons #kazuha headcannons #albedo oneshot #xiao oneshot #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #ask #genshin ask

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1kook · 4 years

Text

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v wc; 4.6k

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,�� you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts jungkook #mine

3K notes · View notes

221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

i. Initiation

Stirring Sensations Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2325

Warning: lots of really inapropro thots all because of that.fucking.chain.

A/N: I’ve had a really bad week and it only got worse last night and I almost had to go to the ER but crisis averted everyone and I’m about to fuck up this presentation but I needed to write this because wow we’re all so horny for this man and that chain he wore during the D23 Expo 2019. Also, this tiktok didn’t help. There might be a second, more NSFW part. Depends on if yall like this :)

You couldn't stop staring at it. Lord knows you tried your hardest to be aware of the conversation going on but it was impossible. It wasn't even anything special, just a shiny little chain, and yet you were absolutely hypnotized by the way it hung around his neck. Why you found it absolutely mesmerizing with that shirt you would never know but there was something about the way he carried himself around, especially today, that had you wishing you were bold enough to say something. But no, he was a friend. And he was kind enough to invite you to an after-party with his colleagues whom you still tried your hardest to act naturally around.

But fucking hell this was hard. It kept on swinging around with every little movement he took, whether he was motioning dramatically with his hand as he explained something about one of the scenes or was simply leaning over and laughing over something Jon said. It was just...there. Taunting you. Begging for your attention. Any kind of attention.

You kept on staring at it as you drank your wine, occasionally nodding along to pretend you weren’t imagining biting down on the chain and tasting his sweat on it as he fucked you into the mattress. It was getting difficult with every passing moment though, especially when he had to nudge you a few times to ask your opinion on something and furrowed his eyebrows when you apologized and told him to repeat his question.

You thought you were being subtle enough but then Pedro leaned over and whispered something in your ear and you all but lost control, the sharp intake of breath making him lean away and ask if he’d done something wrong.

“N-no sorry I- god, I think I drank too much. I just need...some fresh air. Be back in a minute.” Pedro stared at you as he nodded, and you watched as his hand slipped under his shirt to scratch at his clavicle, the action forcing your eyes to the chain yet again. Before you could stop yourself, your tongue was peaking out and licking your lower lip, wishing it could lick across the shiny necklace if only for a second. Once you realized what you’d just done, you raised your eyes and met his, finding the usually umber brown eyes dilated and unforgiving in their gaze.

And then he mirrored your actions and licked his lips and you knew you needed to get away from him before you made a fool out of yourself.

“Excuse me,” you smiled at everyone and walked to the balcony of the restaurant, finding a quiet and private spot in the corner overlooking the awfully busy street. Taking a deep breath, you shut your eyes and leaned against the wall, finally allowing your mind to give into the pathetically filthy thoughts involving Pedro’s fucking chain of all things. You thought of what it would feel like to pull on it as he kissed the air out of your lungs. Wished you could twirl it around your fingers as he licked and nipped down your neck before slipping his hands beneath your pants. Fuck, what you would give to just bite down on it, maybe lick it and his skin as he used you to get his cock off. Would he let you suck on his neck, that glorious fucking neck that was somehow always glistening and smooth and so fucking inciting? Would he moan when you tell him how sexy you found it, especially with that floral shirt? Goddamn that shirt. It was so loud and yet he pulled it off. And with those light brown pants that were positively tight and almost left nothing to the imagination...

But none of that compared to how captivating he looked with that chain. It was very rare for Pedro to look unattractive in whatever clothes his stylist picked out for him. Actually, that wasn’t true. Pedro never looked bad in anything, even if it was a worn down sweatshirt or jeans. He just always looked nice and you weren’t sure if it was because you’ve had these feelings for him for so long or if it was because he was an honest-to-god sex symbol.

You rubbed at the base of your throat, thinking of worshiping him and kissing down his neck before he forced you down on your knees and fucked your face. And to hear that voice, that beautiful, deep, hoarse voice as he moaned and swore and growled at you as you pleasured him. What a sight he would be.

When you took longer than he anticipated, Pedro excused himself and walked past the balcony doors, surveying the large open area and almost walking back in when he didn’t find you anywhere. But then he noticed you in the corner near the edge of the railing, tilting his head to the side when he saw how hard you were breathing. He approached you carefully, his eyes taking in the way you were rubbing at your neck and harshly you were biting down on your lower lip.

So busy imagining the touch of his hand on your heated skin, you didn’t notice Pedro’s presence until he broke you from your haze with a concerned question.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped and grabbed at your chests when you heard Pedro, rolling your eyes when he started laughing and apologized before rubbing your arms to calm you down.

“Jesus Christ you scared the fuck out of me. God, how many times did I tell you not to do that?” You gulped before turning to the railing, trying to calm your heart rate so he didn’t suspect anything.

“Not my fault you’re so jumpy.” You shook your head at his teasing comment, taking in a deep breath to try and forget what you were just thinking about before he interrupted you. “You were gone for a while...is everything okay? Did something happen and you don’t want to tell me?”

“W-what? No no nothing...nothing happened I promise. I just needed some air. It was getting a little intense back there. Sorry I’m just not used to being around so many, you know-” You trailed off and hoped Pedro wasn’t offended by your words because the last thing you wanted him to think was that he was bringing you to anxiety-inducing gatherings.

Your smile faltered when you finally glanced at him, finding it near impossible to not shift your attention to the unbuttoned collar and the godforsaken inanimate object hanging around his neck. Pedro was taking in your changing expressions, trying his hardest to figure out what was going through your mind and hoping it mirrored what was going through his.

But he didn’t have to wonder for too long because all of a sudden, you were reaching up and pushing his shirt apart, and he felt his heart skip a beat when your fingers lightly trailed across the chain he was wearing. He didn’t dare to say anything, afraid you’d break out of whatever trance you were in. He hoped to whatever higher power existing out there that he wasn’t misreading the situation because he wasn’t sure how much more he needed to control himself. You continued to stare at him as you traced the outline of the cold metal, slipping your hand beneath it to touch his skin. Pedro shivered when one of your nails scratched at the hollow juncture just below his Adam’s apple and he all but lost it when feather-light touches skimmed over the cartilage moving down his throat. Your fingers descended down his throat again, and he ceased to breathe when you twirled his chain around your index finger before tilting your head to the side in interest. When you licked your lower lip and began to lean forward, Pedro couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck…” The growled expletive snapped you out of your haze and you snatched your hands away, about to start apologizing to him and begging him to pretend that you weren’t just pretty much assaulting the man in public.

Pedro regretted the way he responded to you when he saw sheer panic and fear etched on your beautiful features. He didn’t think of what he was doing as he pushed you further into the wall and cornered you between his arms. Pedro wanted to make sure you weren’t about to run away from him because now that he had you here, with a pretty good idea of what you were thinking of, he wasn’t about to let you go.

You watched as his jaw muscles clenched tightly, unable to look away from his dark eyes as he stared down at you.

“I thought I was imagining things...the entire day. You’ve been...you kept on looking at me like...like you were- like I was-” Pedro gulped to try and contain his thoughts, not wanting to scare you by what he’s been thinking of when he caught you looking at him like you wanted to devour him. “Every time I looked at you, you would either look away or pretend you were talking to someone else. But fuck baby I didn’t think- didn’t think you’d ever...fuck. I can’t stop thinking about you sweetheart, and if I’d known that it would take me wearing this fucking chain...goddamn, I would have worn it a long time ago if it meant you’d look at me like you were imagining...that I- that we- Please...I- I...shit, are we on the same page here baby or am I completely misreading this entire situation?” Pedro stuttered through his admission and you weren’t sure if you found it cute or sexy that he was trying to hold back from telling you what he’s been thinking about.

“Pedro-”

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, and he couldn’t care less if he was being honest, because you were in his arms, devouring his lips and fisting your hands in his shirt as he snuck his tongue into your mouth and kissed you with every ounce of his being. You sighed into him as you felt his hand slip into your hair at the nape of your neck and pull on it. You were thankful that he had his other arm wrapped around you because you felt faint with every little moan he whispered into your mouth. Nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of his kiss. You would never tell him but watching his on-screen kisses did something to you and you always thought he would be generous with whoever he was with but this, this was something else. It was a cliché but this must have been what it felt like to watch a shooting star fly through the sky. It had to be. It was magical, intimate, and absolutely breathtaking.

When Pedro pulled away and looked down at you, he couldn’t help but push himself flush against your heaving chest, once again swearing when he felt your shivering hands slip beneath his shirt and pull on the chain. He followed your lead and molded his lips with yours, this time more carefully and with less desperation. You smiled against him, and let out a deep breath when you felt him smile into the kiss. Pulling away from him, you rested your head on his chest and let go of his shirt, trailing your hands across his back to try and somehow pull him closer to you.

“I- I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” His voice was soft, exuding calmness and joy. But you could hear his heartbeat and you knew he was just as nervous as you.

“Me too.”

Pedro grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away so he could take a look at you.

“This isn’t a- I’m not...I’m all in baby. I’m all in, if- if you want to give us a shot. Please.” Silence enveloped the air around you and you looked into Pedro’s eyes, finding nothing but love and hope and happiness in them. You’d always wanted to make him happy, he deserved the world. And now that you knew you could, it was indescribable.

“I’m yours Pedro.”

You smiled when you noticed the familiar dimples take over his expression, sighing in relief when he pulled you against him once more and tightened his hold on you.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed your hand and moved towards the restaurant.

“What? No wait Pedro this is your day. I’m not- we could figure this out after tonight. I’m not about to ruin your night. It can wait.” Your eyes widened in surprise when he stepped towards you and grabbed your cheeks so you could look at him.

“Baby...I waited to hear you say those words for too damn long. I need to have you all to myself tonight. Please. I’m- I’m begging here. They won’t mind I promise. I just- I want you in my arms. I want to touch you and kiss every inch of you and hold you until you get tired of me. I want to whisper sweet things in your ears and show you how much I lo- how much I care about you. I want you. And I can’t wait anymore. Please hermosa.” Pedro noticed the small gasp emanating from your lips at the last nickname, and he raised an eyebrow when you turned away from him to look at something else.

“Oh, good to know.” He laughed when you narrowed your eyes at him in annoyance.

“Come home with me hermosa. Please.” He knew he had your undivided attention when you looked up at him, barely holding back from smiling because you could never refuse anything when he used that tone with you.

“Ok.”

Pedro leaned in one last time and kissed your forehead before taking your hand and walking back inside. Well this was going to be interesting.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #d23 expo 2019 #chain #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #not beta'd

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bimswritings · 3 years

Text

Armorer x Reder Pt. 2/2

Pt.1

Kofi

Ao3

Warnings: Typical Canon Type Violence

A/N: Part two for my love! Now that I've finished this, you can expect part three of the Savage fic, with the outline already nearly finished! Hope you enjoy, and until next time!~Bim

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“What is the meaning of this?”

She had been expecting Paz to have come to her earlier, seeking answers for what had just transpired . It could be considered nothing short of a blessing from her ancestors that she had been allowed the time she was, for if he had arrived not five minutes earlier she surely would have not been able to answer him. Even now she found it hard to find her voice, swallowing thickly as she tried to dispel the invisible grip that held her. It was as if the dust from the rubble had infiltrated the filter of her helmet, invading her senses and clogging every sense with a layer of dust.

“The empire sent TIE bombers.” The vecoder of her helmet masked the cracking of her voice from the large warrior in front of her, lest she appear anything but unyielding even in such a moment. It did nothing to dampen the way it reverberated within however, and the echo fact was like a hit to the chest plate all over again.

“Were there any other survivors.”

A light shake of her head gave him his answer. Even if they were strangers to her, the carnage she had witnessed would have been a shock to anyone.

None had been spared from the Empire’s wrath. Not a single structure nor person was left standing, and at places there were little more than scorch marks burned into the ground, the only testament of what was once there. The burns matched those marring the flesh of the scattered bodies, which there was no shortage of. Most were too burned and damaged to tell age or gender and she had no doubts that there were more victims, either buried or bodies completely destroyed in the initial blast and still burning flames.

“How did they make it?” He questioned further, and unsurprisingly.

“Their house was located further outside the village. It received the least of the blast, though there is still no home to return to.”

Yet again she was thankful for your reclusive behavior. It was only thanks to your distance, and the armor she found you buried in, did you survive, though you weren't without injury.

As soon as she received your transmission she had turned back mid flight, making it there in record time. Having never used the transmitter before, the fact that you did so now expelled any worry she might have had over your previous encounter.

When she arrived to find what had happened, she had immediately started digging. Using every tool and ounce of strength at her disposal to move the rubble, looking for at least a body to confirm her fears.

At long last she had found you, body bloodied and arm twisted at an unnatural angle. It was a shock to her system, heart nearly stopping as she took in your still form, thinking you were surely dead. Gloved hands ghosted over your exposed skin and still attached armor, which itself was badly damaged. As well made as it was by your own hand and her careful guidance it still had trouble holding up to the immense weight and damage it took. The metal surface was marred with countless scratches and dents, even completely caved in at places. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that you were already gone. There was no telling how long you had been under the rubble before she had arrived, and even if she had gotten there minutes after, your wounds were so numerous it would have been close.

Raw pain ripped through her as emotion broke through her carefully crafted dam, spilling out all at once over it’s months of accumulating, effectively taking grip over her entire being. She did not cry however. The ability to do such had been lost to her years before and would never come back. Instead, she simply held your body close as she knelt in the dirt, mourning what she had never had the chance of claiming. She had been so close. Her helmet showed that your heat signature had not even grown cold.

Taking her glove off, she reached for your own hand. Even if it was just once, she wanted to feel your skin against hers, without the barrier of metal or leather you both consistently wore. Fingers lacing your own, it once again brought a wave of sorrow crashing over her.

Your hands, strong and calloused from years of work, felt better pure Naboo silk to her own. They remained loose and unmoving, even as her own knuckles turned pale at the strength with which she grasped them. A silent plea to her ancestors, the maker; anyone who would answer the questions she herself didn’t know. Never having been one to believe that those unseen could have much of an influence on the living, she didn’t expect an answer. Only someone to shift the unbearable grief to.

Yet, as she lay mottionless over your corps, she received one. If her own hand hadn’t been so tightly clenched she may have missed it, and in her stay she thought she was imagining it. But then it happened. Again. Then again.

Your pulse, weak and uneven, but there.

Throwing herself back, she quickly changed the viewing mode on her helmet as she tried in vain to keep her hopes from rising. She knew very well it could just be her own that she was feeling and until there was concrete proof then-

There.

In the corner of her visor read your heart rate weak and uneven, just as she had felt before, but there.

She wasted no time pulling you from the rubble and nothing short of sprinting back to her ship, keeping in mind there were undoubtedly unseen and internal injuries as she did her best not to jostle around. She could only thank whatever force there was out there that she had taken the one ship of the coven that had a med chamber in it. Though it was well worn and outdated at best in comparison to the newer ones, it would serve her purpose until she could do something better.

The machine’s light humming reached through the air as it began working on your more severe wounds, the steady drone of the machinery a stark contrast to her own shaky hands as she piloted the ship off the cursed planet, making sure to keep an eye out for any lingering ships of the empire. It would only make your situation worse if you were to be caught in the middle of a firefight as your wounds were tended, though she did not even know if she would be able to gain enough control of herself to fly away from such an endeavor unharmed.

Once certain that there was no one following and they were out of range of the planet, she set the craft to autopilot and was back by your side immediately. The droid had just finished removing the armor from your body and tending to the majority of life-threatening wounds, moving on to what it could finish with the limited supplies it had. She had to resist grabbing your hand, instead putting the energy into pulling the medical log. Reading over it, her heart sized at the vast number and varying severity of each listing as she read further and further on.

Oblique-displaced fracture-R/Humorous, Transverse Fracture-R/Tibia, Hairline fractures of Ribs-R/arm/leg, Bruising of Kidney/Lungs/Liver, Puncture of R/Lung-Bone Frag. Removed-Origin-twelfth intercostal rib, Sever Grade four concussion, Multiple lacerations

She had no idea what had been fixed and what had not, but the number of bacta patches missing from the supply put a small ease on her, and the sight and sound of your slowly steady vitals was enough to keep her from jumping to extremes. She had no particular love for droids, though certainly not hating them as much as the young Din, the money spent to install the machinery was well used, even if the original purpose had been to heal warriors after missions with wounds that needed immediate attention.

That did not mean she found any time to rest on the way home, constantly watching for the slightest sign of life other than the low beeping of the monitor, and the ever so faint rise and fall of your chest as she counted each breath you took. The flight seemed to take double the amount of time it normally did, each second dragging on for eternity, until finally the landing gear of the Starjumper touched the surface of Nevarro. Thankfully it was night, and she had no issues once again lifting you into her arms and carrying you through the deserted streets to the coven. Its familiar coolness encompassed her as soon as she emerged from the stairs into the lower levels. The deathly silent halls were a stark contrast to her own panic.

Ignoring the guards, who’s attention faltered as they caught sight of her haul, she brushed past and headed straight to the only person who could help.

Olia, their healer, answered the door in her sleeping clothes, helmet clearly having been shoved on in her haste to answer the Armorer’s loud and incessant pounding on the door.

“What in the stars do you want this late..at..” Her sentence tapered off as she saw it wasn’t just a random idiotic warrior who had injured themselves, but her Alor, holding someone who clearly wasn’t Mandalorian.

“Fix them.”

The next few hours were a flurry of activity as Olia fixed what the med unit had not, resetting your afflicted arm which had been simply bandaged before and trying not to flinch at the nasty noises it made while doing so. Each thread of the needle to close skin together felt as if it were digging into her own flesh. Still, she watched, unable to tear herself away even as she knew in the back of her mind that rumor had already spread about her return. They would be looking for answers, and she would give them in due time. For now, they would have to practice patience just as she was.

Finally, two hours later, Olia was done. Wiping the sweat from the back of her neck as she admired her work, she explained the situation to the Armorer as she approached your bedside on stiff legs. She simply stared, not daring to touch when you looked so fragile. She hated it, the way your skin had lost its beautiful tone. The once powerful and proud posture she had seen stepping around the forge like a wild loth was nowhere to be seen. Your body seemed to have sunken in on itself, defensive even now.

“Her body is keeping itself under for now. Not surprising given the amount of trauma and injuries sustained, but if she does start to come around, I’ll give her something that should keep her under, or at least enough that she won’t register what’s going on. I would recommend it for as long as we can so that her wounds have time to heal without issue.”

She looked back over your still body, letting out a sympathetic sigh as she moved to do so.

“Even then, she’s not going to be moving around on her own too much any time soon. Wherever she came from, I hope they aren’t expecting her back anytime soon.”

The Armorer could feel the underlying question in her words, and for what she had done the women had earned her answer.

“That won’t be an issue. There is nowhere to go back to.” She looked away from your form for the first time, something that did not go unnoticed by the observant healer.

“She’s ours now. Treat her as you would any warrior, for she has fought just as bravely.”

She nodded solemnly. The Alor was know to always be serious and straight laced, but the way she was acting now gave way to more than words could ever tell. Tentatively, she rested a hand on her pauldron.

“Go. Get some rest. I can watch over her for now.”

The Armorer hesitated, feeling the lack of rest catching up as the adrenaline finally began to wear from her system. But to leave now would only leave her mind to wonder instead of knowing what was happening at every moment.

Olia sensed her hesitation, pushing her more firmly in the direction of the door.

“Once she’s more stable I will move her to a more comfortable bed. If there’s any changes then I’ll alert you but until then there’s nothing for you to do, and the others are bound to be wanting answers.”

Rod straight shoulders dropper slightly at her words, and a smile tore its way across the old woman’s face as she realized she had won.

Guiding her further out, she made sure the smith was out and well on her way to her own space before closing the door. What she didn’t see was that, instead of turning down the hall that led to individual dwellings, she instead turned right, down the path that would lead her to the only place she could think, to feel less powerless than she was right now. Her forge, where she fell heavily onto her work bench, unmoving as she stared blankly into the once comforting blue flames of the fire. Now they only acted as a painful reminder, thinking back to the times back in your own dwelling. She had yet to move, and Paz found her in the same position when he entered, leading to their current situation.

“I would never doubt your commitment to the tribe, but I must doubt the wisdom of bringing an outsider here! Into the heart of our tribe!”

Had she been in any other situation, she would have no hesitation in putting him back in his place. Heavy infantry expert and lead warrior or not, he had no right to speak in such a way to her. The only thing that saved him from her hammer and tongue was the fact her mind was still filled with thoughts of you. In this moment she even found herself thankful for his questioning. It meant that there was at least one person still thinking straight enough to be an effective leader in her stead.

“It’s her.”

“It's her?” he parroted the words, twisted with their own sense of confusion. “What do you mean it’s h-“ The words stuck mid-sentence as the wheels turned in his head, slowly putting the pieces together. From where he knew she was going, the small glimpse and rumors he had gotten from the others describing you, and the way his Alor was acting now, he was able to come up with his own relatively accurate assumption.

“The Smith.”

Her silence was his only answer, but it was all he needed.

Moving slowly, he settled his own large frame next to hers on the bench, which creaked under the weight. It felt odd, seeing her look so deflated and almost small. Even after years of putting on muscle from the forge and training, she still had nothing on him size wise. Though he was still positive she could beat him in a fight if it came to it, and she had countless times before.

His voice took on a softer, more rumbling tone.

“How did it happen?”

“The Empire. I only got there after they were gone, though there was really nothing left to go back to.”

He wanted to ask more, what they were doing there, why they chose such an outlandish, insignificant town, but he already knew. They both knew. It was because of them. While tolerated by the empire, both sides knew the other would wipe them out if given the chance. With so many going to one town multiple times, it was bound to draw attention. They had just been willing to believe that the Empire would turn a blind eye to it, just like they had with Nevarro.

How foolish of them.

Now they had dragged an innocent bystander, who had done nothing but help them and expecting nothing in return, into their fight, costing them not only their home but almost their life.

Though Paz was more akin to fighting than feelings himself, he could see the turbulence going on within her. Years of being what one might consider confidents let him know everything he needed to.

“She’ll pull through. From what you’ve told me, she’s strong. Not to mention she has Olia looking after her. And besides,” he stood up, walking out to give her space to do what she did best. To think, and come up with the next best plan of action for them to take.

“I still have yet to meet this mysterious smith.”

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You had never been much of a morning person. Waking up bright and early just to face the scorching heat of your planet's twin suns combined with that of your forge didn’t make for a promising work day. Alas, that was when a majority of customers would come looking for wears and weapons, as well as to hire your services. Even though you preferred working during the marginally cooler nights, you still braved the day, gritting your teeth and dragging your feet as you forced your body into motion. As hard as it had always been then, it was nothing compared to how you were feeling now.

Every fiber of your being felt as if it had been run over by a Loshev, then further trampled on. Not even in the early times of your apprenticeship, when you had gone to bed with the inability of even being able to lift your arms to fold back the blankets after lifting your hammer an immeasurable amount of times, had you ever felt this sore. Everything from head to toe hurt, and the thought of moving at all was enough to fill your body with a sense of dread.

Instead of doing so, you settled on just getting your eyes open, which itself proved to be a difficult task. They felt as if the skin itself was welded together; made of Kiern metal as they dragged open painfully.

Darkness was the first thing you saw. Shapes and colors only came along after a few moments as your eyes adjusted. Blurred objects slowly came into focus as you took in your surroundings.

You were in a dimly lit room, the only source of light coming from a small lantern hanging from the wall. It’s glow cast drastic shadows on each object, giving the unfamiliar space a touch of comfort with its warm light. The furnishings themselves were rather bare, consisting of only a few boxes stacked on top of one another with small trinkets of one kind or another littered around, and the bed which you currently resided on.

Pulling the blankets aside, you hissed at the way your body groaned in protest, feeling as if every nerve were on fire. It appeared that the lantern also provided the only source of heat because as soon as the surprisingly quality blanket left you were subjugated to the cool air of the small space. You noted areas of bandages scattered all over your body, covering most of your arm and spilling across your torso. The scratchy material could also be felt under your pants, catching on the material and rubbing uncomfortably at your temples.

Pushing yourself into a sitting position, your head swam as the pounding from within increased, leaving you gasping for breath. As much as it hurt, you had to keep moving. You didn’t know where you were, or who was around. The last thing you remember was the walls of your home coming down around you as fighters screamed overhead. For all you knew, you were being held by some backworld smuggler who intended to use you for profit, working to make weapons or using your body for other means. Bandaged wounds or not, you had to get out before the choice was taken away.

Getting to your feet was, unexageratly, one of the most difficult things you had ever done. Your legs gave out as soon as they touched the ground, forcing you to use a majority of upper body strength to drag your way across the room to the door on the opposite wall. It was far from graceful, and there was even a point where you bumped into one of the various stacks of crates. It was nothing more than a little bump, but enough to knock a precariously placed holoboard from its perch on the edge.

Clattering to the floor loudly, it only prompted you to move faster, the fear of someone having heard the ruckus and coming to investigate. You prayed to the maker that wasn’t the case, but with the luck you had been having lately it should have been no surprise when the door opened with a loud creak. A shadow fell over your crawling form, and you looked up expecting the worst. Someone like a pirate or scavenger, maybe even an enforcer. What you weren’t expecting was a child, or what you assumed was one at least.

The person standing in the doorway was small. They were just shy of reaching halfway up the frame, lithe frame hunched in on itself from what you could see peeking around the opening. It was hard to tell their exact age, due to the achingly familiar helmet they wore. While far from being a replica, it was still close enough to that of your beloved Armorer to send a pang through your already aching body. The polished metal reflected the new light of the hall in an almost blinding manor. An owlish visor stared down at your form, just as frozen as you were.

Then, before you could react, they were gone. Light footsteps echoed down the corridors, growing more and more faint until they disappeared completely, leaving you in silence once again. There was only a moment of hesitation before you were on the move once again, now with a reinvigorated urgency.

Finally making it to the door, you used the frame to pull yourself up, gasping all the while as sharp jolts of pain stemmed from every part of your body. Emerging from the room you were met with the sight of similar metal walls as the room. They extended in both directions, the one to your left extending into darkness while there were two branching paths on the right. While having no idea where exactly you were and no reference on how to get out, you still pushed forward.

Heading right, your path was lit by only the occasional light on the wall. Some were the normal low lights that could be found on virtually any planet, while others were a more archaic version using oil and gas were scattered in between. You could tell you were most likely somewhere underground judging from the cool, damp feel the air carried. Either that or you were on an already cold planet, as judging from the state of the room you woke in, it was doubtable that you were in such a place that would waste resources on high quality cooling.

Reaching the split path, you paused, giving yourself a moment to breathe and recuperate as you listened carefully down each. The left was dead silent, almost unnervingly so, and for a moment you thought the second was the same. However, the light flicker of the nearest flame caught your attention. It moved consistently back in the direction you came, not like how it would normally; and with how much of your life had been spent staring and carefully watching such flames it was almost childs play to tell it was being manipulated by something else. Listening closer once again, you could hear it. The slight whisper of the wind. It’s draft was light, almost undetectable, but if you enough it was there. Gently caressing your skin and whispering promises of a way out.

It was a slow go, and painful the entire time. Your body gave not a moment of relief, in just as much pain as when you woke up if not more. It was hard to even take a full breath. Your lungs felt as if they would burst with each inhale. It was as if the air itself was made of fire. The pain didn’t leave much room for thought, but those that you did have were for the armored warrior you had been so abruptly reminded of earlier.

You had no idea where she was now, or if she even knew what had happened. The message may have never even gotten through, and while the Mandalorians were always well informed of the events going on around the galaxy you had no idea how long you had been here. It could be just a night or day; maybe even a week. She only visited every thirty rotations, so she could only find out when she came by for her next visit, only to find nothing but ash.

Would she mourn your supposed death, or would it be more so due to the loss of a weapons provider and face they could use to get supplies and information without knowing who it was really going to? Maybe it would be a relief not to have to worry about any information about them being uncovered. A loose end tied up without them having to do any of the work.

The thought of her throwing whatever connection you thought you had away, especially after having fallen so hard for the strong woman, hurt your heart almost as much as your body. It was a mortifying thought, and one that distracted you from not only the pain for a moment, but also caused a lapse in judgment that allowed your pursuers to get so close. It was only too late that you heard their footsteps echoing behind you in the dimly lit hall. A new wave of fear coursed through your body, pushing you further as they got closer to you, and yourself finally emerging into a larger section of the hall. This one had alcoves lining the top of the wall, allowing the moonlight and cool night air from outside to filter in and drain the hope from your body. The entire time you thought you were getting closer to a way out, you had just been losing yourself deeper in the maze of the unfamiliar compound. It was cruel for fate to do so, but there was nothing to be done now. Not when your pursuers were getting so close.

Your eyes darted around the small area, locking for a place to hide or at least a weapon to defend yourself with, before settling on one of the many alcoves. It was under the small windows that allowed the traitorous light and breeze in, leaving it bathed in darkness.

Thinking quickly, you limped over and forced yourself into the narrow space. It was plenty tall, but so thin it forced your shoulders straight and grated on your exposed skin as you slipped in. Here, your breaths sounded even louder and more labored, forcing you to muffle them with your hand and making it even harder to breathe. It wasn’t the best spot, and quite obvious now that you thought about it, but there was no time to find a new one as a group burst in through the arch you had emerged from seconds prior.

It was hard to see with your eyes still adjusting to the dimness of your little space combined with the light blur they still held, and you simply squeezed them shut, unable to watch as you listened to them get closer to your hiding spot, and focused on remaining as silent as possible. One hand clamped over your mouth, the other wrapped around your body as it squeezed as tightly as possible, as if it were the only thing keeping you together.

You could hear them talking. Their voices sounded muffled even as they bounced off the cold stone walls, and they spoke in low tones that made it nearly impossible to hear. A few still made their way through however.

‘Escaped’ ‘gone far’ ‘Find them-’ ‘kill’

The last word sent a shiver down your spine. It was only made worse as one of the group got closer than any had yet stopped mere feet away. The rough, damp stone dug into your skin as you pushed yourself further back, duly noting the itching pull of your wounds as they grew heated.

They were going to find you, and once they did they were going to kill you, or worse.

A moment passed. Then two. Then several more, all waited out with tension so thick it would put any ship hull to shame, before the shadowy figure retreated. Their own footsteps faded in with the others as they moved on in search of their present target of you, continuing to head down the maze of halls.

Even once they were gone you didn’t allow yourself to relax for a full minute, too fearful of them coming back. But as the momentarily spike in adrenaline wore off and your current position became increasingly uncomfortable, you allowed yourself to relax. Greedily gulping in as much air as your recovering lungs would allow, you were doubled over as you tried to recover. That position, combined with the increasingly loud pounding in your ears, left you unaware of your surroundings and defenseless against the shadow that unknowingly approached.

Their arm reached in, easily pulling you from your hiding place and out into the open.

“N-no! Stop!” You fought back weakly, pushing away at the figure that held you in an iron grip, not yet painful but refusing to budge as you clawed at it uselessly.

“Please.” It was a whimpering, pathetic sounding plea. One born of desperation and fear. Never in your life would you think yourself to sink to such levels, yet here you were, bracing for the pain you knew would come. They would drag you back, either to that little room or somewhere even more secluded, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You braced as the person shifted, recoiling as they brought their free hand up. You expected a hit, a slap. Something that would daze if not knock you completely out. What you weren’t expecting was the gentle caress of fingers along the skin, tracing along your cheek and following its slope up, where it gently rested, silently urging you to open your eyes and raise your gaze.

There was hardly a chance to be confused by the action before a sense of familiarity hit. Worn leather, softer than porg fur and just as warm despite the chilly environment, was stained with the smell of oil and sharp tang of metal. It was a scent that you had thought of many times, haunting your thoughts at night as you wished to be nothing more than wrapped in its comfort.

With a shuddering breath, you forced yourself to look up into the visor of your captor.

The gold of her helmet seems even brighter now as the light of the moon causes it to practically radiate under its glow, starkly contrasting the inky darkness of the owlish visor as it tilts in a way that gives away her concern.

There’s a moment of silence as you simply stare at one another, an exchange of silent emotion as you take each other in.

“Tracinya’ika…” The voice that flows from her helmet is akin to a whisper, seeming almost impossibly soft for such a warrior. However quiet, it’s enough to break the last of your resolve. The Armorer catches you as your legs give out, exhaustion finally catching up. She doesn’t say a thing, simply letting you bury your face in the warm fur covering clasped over her shoulders as you silently hiccup and stutter.

“H-how did I get here? The last thing I remember is-” your unable to finish, screams of the villagers mingling with tie fighters coming to the surface along with a crushing, constricting feeling gripping your chest, as if you were trapped under the rubble once again.

Seeming to sense your thoughts, the Armorer places a comforting hand on your lower back to lead you away. When it becomes apparent that there’s no way you’ll be walking on your own, she pauses a moment, before bending down and sweeping you off your feet to carry you bridal style down the hall, past the other Mandalorians that had appeared without a sound. They were silent as she passed, though their curiosity was almost tangible. She paid them no mind however, easily carrying you through the dim halls and allowing you to once again bury your face into the fur of her cowl. If she minds she says nothing of it.

“There is much to explain.” Her voice rumbles, vibrating through her chest and against your cheek. “But you have been through much. For now, rest. When you awake, you can ask as many questions as you like.”

You wanted to argue, to protest, but there was no energy left to do so. Your escape attempt had left you drained. Instead, you simply let your head rest against the chilled metal of her armor, allowing the gentle sway of her walk to lull you back to sleep without the fear of what was to come, knowing you were safe as long as she was around.

____________________________________

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You froze, the crate of rations you were about to hand to the man next to you blocking your vision from the worst of the glare you could already feel. That barrier was shortly removed, leaving you exposed to the cross Mandalorian.

It had been foolish to think you would be able to sneak off without her knowing. Nothing went on in these tunnels that she didn’t know about. If you didn’t know any better you may think that she had monitors hidden around the place, or maybe even a tracking device to keep tabs on you. It was more likely someone had mentioned your whereabouts in passing, or she had come for one of her usual check-ins throughout the day.

“You should not be up and about, none the less moving supplies.” Her gaze snaps to the others, who were all similarly frozen as they watched. You felt slightly guilty, knowing they didn’t deserve her wrath.

“Why would you let her in here? If the cold doesn’t make her sick then the labor will only make her recovery that much longer.”

The man visibly flinched at her tone, her attention now focused on him as the others slowly back away, letting him take the blame.

“Well, I just thought-”

“You clearly did not, else she would not be working herself to the bone.”

She takes a step closer to the man, sending him into a panic as he quickly backpedals, stammering.

“Hey.” You grab her arm, instantly shifting her attention back to you. Unlike the others, you don’t shrink back or even flinch. Instead you stare back into the darkness of her helmet. “It’s not his fault. I told him it was alright, that I was fine to work.”

The Armorer stares a moment longer, glancing back once more at the others before grabbing you by the hand, shoving the crutch you had been using since your leg healed enough to put weight on into your hand and dragging you away. She continues to scold you as she walks, never pausing in her climb from the lower levels as she continues to make you feel more and more like a child.

“There is no reason for you to have to work in your condition. Olia said rest would do you best.”

“That was weeks ago.” You huff, using the wall to stabilize yourself a bit better as you attempt to keep up with her quick pace. “And it’s only right that I do something to pull my own weight, especially after all that you and the others have done for me.”

“You have already done enough for us, and once you are fully healed I know you will continue to help. Until then I implore you to rest.”

The concern she held made you blush, her complimenting words nearly winning you over. Too stubborn for your own good however, your tongue speaks your thoughts before you can stop it.

“I know, but I can’t help but feel that I’m taking advantage of you. I just want to be, you know, useful.”

Your words cause her to pause, nearly causing you to collide with her back, sending a glance over her shoulder to your deflated figure. Logically she knows that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to help out, even sending a streak of pride through her at your eagerness to help her people, but the small voice constantly hounding her and leading to her protectiveness was too loud to ignore.

To your surprise, instead of heading down the left hall to what you knew would lead to the room you had been set up in since arriving, she turned to the right. Following cautiously, you looked about with wide eyes, having never been down this way before despite being her for weeks now. There were still many parts of the tunnels you didn’t know, mainly memorizing the paths to important places such as the communal area, storage rooms(which were the easiest to sneak off to help in), and of course the forge.

Soon enough you enter another section. The smell of metal and oil hits as soon as you step over the threshold, taking you by surprise. It was even stronger here than the forge, which was saying something. Though with the number of weapons and armor lining the walls it was to be expected. Every inch of the room, from the ceiling to the floor and even laying in piles were weapons. The order with which they were all organized in was impressive, not a single piece out of place in the organized chaos. And there, in the middle of it all, was one of the biggest men you had ever seen.

Your own father had been large, standing at six five, and while this man seemed to be slightly shorter he more than made up for it with width. Shoulders like a rancore, with hands so large they made you jealous of the potential grip strength, he looked as if he could snap you without a second thought. It’s not as if you were some petite thing in your own right, yet you felt dwarfed for one of the first times in your life.

As soon as he noticed you enter, he stood, his head bowing in acknowledgement.

“Alor.” He helmet shifted towards you, unconsciously forcing you further behind your bronze protector. “How can I help you?”

She shifts to the side, exposing you further as her hand gently rests against the small of your back, pushing you further towards the giant.

“It seems our newest friend can’t sit still. Unfortunately I can not watch them at all times to ensure they do not sneak off, but I know I can trust you to watch and keep them entertained.”

His head tilts, studying you closer as your heart jumps to your throat. In the process of trying to pull your own weight, you were now nothing this man with having to babysit you.

“I’m sure he has better things to do. If we just go back I could-”

“No. You will stay with Paz until I come for you. He will keep you from sneaking to the lower levels and lifting boxes.” A warning lay under her tone, both for you and Paz. His helmet dips in a nod once again, silently accepting his new instructions as she lightly ruffles your hair, pulling back only when your hand swats at hers.

“Do not worry. I am sure you two will get along just fine. I’ve had enough trouble keeping him away as it is.” Before you could try and argue once again she was gone, turning on heel and heading back down the passage. Great. Now you were alone with a giant and potentially grumpy Mandalorian while surrounded by weapons, which was both potentially good and bad.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and turned back to Paz, as he had been called. He was still standing, watching as you cautiously approached.

“H-hello there.” You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering, only imagining what he might think of you now. Still, you powered on. “You’re name is Paz, right? I’m-”

“I know who you are.” He cuts you off, flopping back down into his seat as he picks up the weapon he had previously been inspecting.

“Oh….You do?”

He snorts. “Everyone knows who you are. You made quite the entrance.”

You flush, still embarrassed you had made such a spectacle arriving. Definitely not how you had hoped to meet such esteemed warriors, bloody and defeated. He seemed to sense your embarrassment.

“No matter. I’ve known about you before then.” He twirled the blaster in his hand, one that you now recognized as your own craft. “Been a fan of your work for a while.”

Gesturing to the bench across from him, you soon found yourself becoming comfortable with the blue man. Within the hour you had relaxed completely, joking around with him as he answered any questions you had about the location of rooms or the odd Mandalorian you had yet to talk with. The conversation quickly shifts to, of course, weapons, as you talk about the ups and downs of each design.

“It’s good to have someone to talk with like this. Nobody back on Quilon were interested in the craft of weapons. They just cared if they shot or not.” He took the weapon you had just finished checking, looking for nicks or spots needing maintenance, and handed you another. It was a small mercy he had granted you. While not a physically demanding task it was enough to keep you busy and feeling useful. There was a lot to get through after all, and he surmised there was no one better to check weapons then one who knows their ins and outs.

“While many like to use the weapons, they don’t get too familiar with their inner workings.”

“That’s why we’re here though.” You point out, only causing him to sigh.

“Yes, but if I have to fix one more blaster that simply has a residue build up that could be solved with a good cleaning I’m going to strangle them.”

“I’m glad she brought me here. What she’s done, what you’ve all done, is amazing. If I could spend my life working alongside her it would be more than enough.

He pauses, in the middle of sharpening a skinning knife, his helmet tilting up before going back to his work. “I’m sure she would be delighted to hear so. You should tell her yourself.”

You pause, confused. “What do you mean? She already knows that I want to continue making weapons for you all.”

Now you had his full attention, staring back at one another across the small gap as you both tried to discern the others thoughts. His words made no sense. She knew your intentions to stay, so why would you need to explain any further? You wanted to stay, more specifically just for her, but there was no way you could just tell her that. To risk ruining everything you had built between the two of you? Just for some silly little crush? No thank you. You were content being as useful to her as you could now, relishing in the little crumbs of affection you received now.

“You have to be kidding me.” He finally says, breaking the silence. “She literally calls you ‘ni tracinya’!”

You blink owlishly, still not understanding. Your Mandoa was still coming along. As of now you only knew a few words, mostly greetings and curse words, much to the amusement of the clan and the disdain of the Armorer.

He throws his hands in exasperation, head practically slamming back into the wall behind him. “It means ‘my flame’ for makers sake! Listen,” He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as his voice takes on a more serious tone. “Think real hard, back to when you first came here. You’re telling me you haven’t noticed anything?”

Now that he mentions it, you do remember some odd things that you had never really put into question before now.

When you had first been cleared to move out of bed by Olia, the Armorer had insisted on moving you to a room closer to the forge, claiming its warmth would do you better then the cooler parts of the tunnels where the injured normally stayed. You had been cautious, unsure of being so close to the center of the tribe space and felt as if you were being invasive. She had assured you it was only temporary, to sooth your concerns you suspected, though that was quickly thrown out the window as the small space quickly collected a number of trinkets thanks to the little ones. After overcoming their initial hesitancy and fear of being an outsider, they were constantly bringing small objects and bits of easily bent and cut pieces of metal for you to make things out of, trading your creations for their own crude versions. The majority were from the Armorer however, and you treasured those the most. They were nothing extravagant, certainly not to the level of detail you would go into, but you wouldn’t have expected her to. Her focus was always more on practicality, though that’s not to say her works weren’t beautiful in their own right. Your own just placed more emphasis on the small details, and you were allowed the time and pleasure of putting them there.

She had brought you all your meals during that time, eventually evolving to the point where you would enjoy them together in her forge when you were well enough, your backs pressed to one another with a covering tightly wrapped around your eyes. Hardly was there a time when you weren’t greeted with the warm shine of her armor, the fur she wore brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine with how close she stood at times. Her hand would constantly be touching your back or shoulder, holding your wrist as she led you through the halls even when you knew the way. There were many nights you would fall asleep in the forge, lulled by it’s warmth and the familiar sound to metal striking metal. It both soothed and made the itch to work once more that much worse.

The memory brought on a shy smile, accompanied by a light flush across your skin. It was times like that when you could allow yourself to wish, to hope, that you might mean something more than just a friend or fellow smith.

Just as soon as the thought arrived you were quick to banish it. Dreaming of the impossible would only bring more disappointment. And so, with a small laugh and roll of your eyes, you implored Paz to put it to rest; and to his credit, he did. The thought still lingered on your mind however, and you wanted to curse him for putting it there.

You continue to check and clean the weapons in peace, avoiding any and all conversation surrounding the previous topic until dinner. Or what you thought was around the right time. It seemed that even with all the time spent in the dark tunnels you had yet to gain the innate ability to just tell what time it was without looking at a clock. Paz sure knew though, racking his weapon with you following his lead.

“Your company wasn’t as annoying as others, and your weapons knowledge and appreciation is respectable, though I would expect nothing else from someone in your situation.” He reached his hand out, watching as you realized he wanted you to shake it. His hands were just as strong as you had thought, firmly grasping your own as you got into a small battle trying to squeeze the other. “Feel free to find me any time you’re bored. Keep Alor from getting frustrated and who knows, once you heal enough I might be able to teach you how to fight for the next time you run into any imperial troops.”

“That sounds...great.” He dropped his arm, handing you your walking stick and leading you back through the tunnels to the communal area as you added the new path to your mental map. His large strides were hard to keep up with, and though you suspected he had adjusted his pace you were still out of breath by the time you reached your destination. Inside the circular space there were a number of mandalorians lounging around. Children ran amuck, some helmed some not, weaving between the adults and ignoring their complaints. As soon as you entered a crowded space they descended like a swarm. Small hands pulled at your clothes, climbing up your non injured leg. After the scolding they had received last time they made sure to give your injuries a wide berth.

They were clamoring, all trying to be first to show you the small projects that had been working on or made that day. The others looked on with mild amusement, or so you assumed that's what was shown behind their visors. There were many jokes passed around that you were turning their young warriors into inventors and thinkers, though you hardly saw it as a problem. Exploring bright minds and exercising critical thinking skills would only make them that much better in any tight situations. It’s not like they couldn’t do both after all.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, bouncing over the family colors painted in intricate patterns on armor as you looked for one in particular.

“She’s still in the forge.” You jumped, causing your current passengers to squeal as they were nearly thrown from your elevation to the ground. Olia stepped closer, shooing the children away, causing a ruckus of groans and complaints, but nevertheless did as they were told. They knew better than to disrespect an elder, and their medic at that. Placing two ration portions into your hands, she’s already pushing you down the main hall.

“Never a moment of rest for that one.” She jokes, turning on her heel and heading back into the common area before you even have a chance to speak.With nothing more than a shrug, you continue on, walking the by now familiar path to deliver the food.

Warmth is the first thing that greets you, a heavenly contrast to the otherwise cold and damp dwelling. Not that you hated it, but growing up on a planet with two suns and working in a forge for the majority of your life made anything below blazing feel like Hoth. The clang of metal striking metal rings clear and crisp, but as owled eyes catch your movement, the hammer pauses mid strike, afloat for just a moment before quickly being deposited back into her belt.

Holding up the ration packs for her to see, she’s already moving, fluidly packing up her project and clearing a space as you pull the bench from the wall, settling on the wood with a light creak. Not long after, gloved hands found your skin, briefly brushing over your cheeks and causing butterflies to erupt throughout your body, setting every nerve on fire as the soft fabric of the blindfold replaced her hands. It wasn’t something you ever questioned or protested, simply content being allowed the level of trust such an action required, though you would often question what you had done to earn such an honor from an esteemed figure such as herself. The tools along her belt clicked softly, the only thing telling her location as she closed the shutters to the forge.

Not a word was said the entire time, and you didn’t need any. The practice had been born after she had gotten on your back about finishing meals, only to have you express your awkwardness of eating alone while she watched, combined with your own concern with her eating enough. She was always working, crafting new armor and weapons, or meeting with elders and warriors to discuss and organize the smaller aspects of clan life. The disregard she had for her own health when she always put so much work into that of others was both adermable and frustrating. It became one of the few things you could do during the day, making sure she had eaten and stayed hydrated in the heat of the forge. Dinner was the only time she sat down however, enjoying whatever rations or food had been chosen for the night.

After the blindfold was on and your own ration pack was in hand, it wasn’t long before you felt her warmth at your back as she too settled down on the bench. The fur of her cowl tickled your skin, telling you of how close she sat. Then you just talk. Telling her about your day and the new things you had learned.

“Introducing me to Paz almost makes up for the scene earlier.” You joke “His knowledge of weapons and their care is amazing. I can see myself getting closer with him.”

You could have imagined it, but you could swear you felt her tense behind you.

“Not too close I would imagine. Olia has informed me that you should be cleared to go back to work within a week or two.”

Perking at her words, you grew excited. It had been so long that you had begun to think you would never craft again.

“I’m glad to hear that. I already worry about the muscle mass I’ve lost since being laid up.” Laughing, you bump your shoulders against hers. “I feel like my shoulders are only half their size now, everything all atrophied and squishy.”

She’s silent, and you think the joke just fell flat, or she’s simply tired from the day.

“So you enjoyed staying with Paz today. I can assume that means I won’t have to worry about you sneaking off if I leave you with him again?”

“No.” Chuckling, you set down the now empty ration container. There’s no rush for her to finish, as you enjoy these small moments. It’s easy to pretend to be something more, something closer.

It may have been the comforting warmth of her body combined with that of the forges own heat and scents, or simply the exhaustion that came with having been able to do actual work for the first time in weeks. Either way, your tongue was loose and words flowed without thought.

“It’s hard to believe I’m here. I never thought I would ever go anywhere besides Quilon. It’s where my family has lived since forever. My mother and father, my grandparents, their parents and so on. We’ve all come from the same planet. After they died I was scared to even think about traveling. I thought that if I left I would be alone. The forge was the only thing I had left even close to family.”

Losing it had been hard. When you had first heard the news after waking it had felt like you were crushed by its foundation all over again. Olia and the Armorer had to practically force you to eat, not having the energy to do even want to get out of bed. Recovery had been slow, especially when there was nothing to go back to. It was around the time she let the children into your room, tasking them with keeping an eye on you while she tended to the clan duties she had been neglecting. It was the young ones, so bright and full of energy, that pulled you from the slump. As soon as your crafting skills were discovered after absentmindedly making a flower out of paper scraps they had all but demanded you show them more. Leading you through the tunnels and teaching you games had come after. Soon enough you were almost back to normal, able to smile and laugh once again.

It had nearly broken her to see you in such a state. The fire your eyes had once held had been reduced to little more than smoldering ash, while the glow that radiated seemed to radiate from your skin itself had dimmed. You had lost everything to the empire, but Maker be damned if she wasn’t going to do her best to give it back and then some.

“Would it be wrong of me to say it was a good thing?” She jerked at your words, taken by surprise.

“And why would that be?”

“Well, I got to meet all of you. Olia, Paz, even the young ones. You’ve all been so kind to me.” A slight hesitation, unsure if the next words would be stepping over boundaries.

No. You had come this far, and knowing her she would only pry in that aloof way of hers until you divulged a proper answer.

“Even if none of you feel the same way, I like to think that you’ve become something of a family to me. It’s been so long since I've known what it's been like to be a part of a family, so that’s what I think this feeling is at least.” A deep breath, pushing the words that seemed to catch. You can’t live feeling like this anymore, Paz’s words coming back to you once again and giving you a small amount of confidence.

“I would like to be a part of your family. With you, that is.”

With bated breath, you wait. She’s silent, but not in the way she normally is. It’s more calculated, the air itself charged. Heart pounding in your ears, you're not sure if you would have even heard her answer. Instead of any words however, you find yourself blinded by the light of the flames as your blindfold is practically ripped off, revealing the cause of your emotional rollercoaster herself, helmet back on yet with a gaze more intense than you’ve experienced yet.

“I have always been content with my deal in life. I provide for my clan, do my best to lead and keep them safe. True leaders are those that are selfless, however,” her hand grasps yours, pulling you closer. The cool feel of her helmet sends shivers down your spine; a stark contrast to your own burning skin. “But since I have met you, I have been nothing but selfish. I want everything that you are; from your body to your soul.”

Getting up, she leads you to the far corner of her forge. A small strike of disappointment hits as she lets go of your hand to dig through one of the storage compartments. It quickly dissipates as she emerges with an all too familiar item.

You gasp. It was a helmet, just like the one you had been working on and lost on Quilon. The real one was lost, but the one before you took many of the elements you had worked into your own and combined them with a more traditional Mandoan style. The eyes had the same wider vision you had been incorporating. A combination of the classic t-visor with the more elegant swooped eyes that females seemed to favor. The jawline was also slightly more convex then normal, allowing for greater range of the head and felt less claustraphobic. Other than that, it seemed she had taken her own creative liberties and upon closer inspection you saw it was eerily similar to her own. Instead of bronze it was a silvery blue, the same three lines running down the forehead with only two horns, looking as if they were coated in the bronze color as her own. Etched into each of the cheek recesses was a hammer and tongs respectively, done in the same elegant etching found on many of your own weapons.

“I will not push you to make a decision, but I do wish you to know; if you pledge yourself to the creed, to the tribe, to me, you will never find yourself alone again. I will personally make sure of it.” Her voice barely makes its way past the vecoder. Never before had she spoken in such a gentle tone, even to yourself.

“You will be mine as I will be yours.”

Taking the helmet in your own hands, the surprising lightness of such a large metal object nearly causes you to throw it. Turning it over and inspecting every inch, you know you’re only delaying the inevitable. For so long you wanted to be part of a family, to help and be more than just a weapons crafter. Furthermore, the very person you wished, no, yearned, to spend the rest of your life with was the one to ask.

“To spend the rest of my life by your side, providing for the tribe, would be all too short.” Smiling, you pull the helmet, your helmet, closer.

For a second you think she’s short circuited, frozen in place. Then, quick as a blaster shot, she grabs your arm and drags you from the forge, all but throwing the shutter open and practically running down the hall as you struggle to keep up with your still sore leg. Briefly you catch a flash of familiar blue armor, but it's gone before you can get a good look. Instead you focus on keeping pace with the bronze warrior.

“Wh-where are we going.”

Others are watching as you pass, moving out of your path as their Alor continues her war path.

“The elders.” She says without stopping and, not winded in the slightest as, in one fell swoop, you find yourself swept into her arms and being carried bridal style as her pace continues to pick up speed. An impressive move if you hadn’t been so shocked.

“We have much to prepare.”

#star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #x reader #fanfiction #mandalorian armorer #the armorer x reader #mando x reader #mandalor #fanfic #paz vizsla #the mandalorian

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hoe-imaginess · 3 years

Text

cornered | dabi

dabi x reader

requested prompt: Villain F! Reader got secret information about the League, but is cornered by Dabi who is deciding what to do with her

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this honestly just turned into a little chase scene... hope it’s alright

⤰⤰⤰

You were teeming with triumph as you hurried down the alleyway.

Part of you knew that you were cruising on a premature celebration; you’d succeeded in your furtive plot, and taken the information you needed from the League. But obtainment was one thing—now came escape.

The benefactor of your risky mission required that you deliver the information to a warehouse near the old side of the city, the same place you’d made the deal in the first place. So there you went, almost as soon as the deed was done. You’d taken a sonorous route as a precaution, just in case you had any pursuers. But now, satisfied that you had no tail, and that you were mere moments away from collecting your due pay, you made haste to your destination.

The warehouse was empty and darkened, no lights giving illumination inside or out. You thought that was inconvenient at most, but not necessarily suspicious. Therein lay your mistake.

You pushed inside the warehouse and waited to be greeted. No one came.

Increasingly antsy, you moved around the gloomy interior as carefully as possible. You thought better of finding the lights and switching them on, so you continued your tepid investigation in the darkness, if only to idle while you awaited your patron.

Halfway into your search, you decided against testing your own patience, and pulled out your burner phone. Almost in the same instant that you dialed the confidential number, an offensive smell invaded your space. That, too, you found inconvenient, and nothing more. It was an old warehouse, you reminded yourself, as you put the phone to your ear. Nothing odd about a rank odor.

You heard the phone ringing through the speaker, and then, you heard the ringing in the warehouse.

Puzzled, you moved the phone from your ear and listened closely. Yes, there was a simple ringtone resounding through the place, and yes, it had to be your benefactor.

Still, the line continued to ring, and ring; the tone in the warehouse sounded in tandem. It was clear to you that you would be receiving no answer. And it was then that suspicious took its root.

You followed the ringtone in the dark, until you could see its faint glow yards away. By then, the horrid smell had turned almost intolerable, but also decipherable: like the stench of overcooked pork, stinging your nostrils with every inhale.

You envisioned a dozen nasty sources for the stench, some imaginatively morbid, but the scene you found upon following the ringing overwhelmed you.

A burnt corpse lay strewn on the floor. The scant moonlight coming in from the warehouse rafters gave poor illumination to the scene, but you could see quite clearly the blackened body, its form mangled by fire—a fire that hadn’t smoldered very long ago, if the heat coming off the body was any indication.

Beside the body lay the cell phone. It gave its last ring as your call went unaccepted, then the screen’s light gave out.

Your benefactor was dead. That much was certain. The rest was a mystery that buzzed in your head, quickly gaining into panic as you realized the demise that had befell the now-corpse was likely one you were meant to share. Why else would the man have been killed this way? Why here? And by whom?

The question was quickly answered.

“You must’ve taken the long route to get here,” a voice came in the darkness. “I’ve been waiting a while.”

You spun toward the sound, and took a step backward the moment you spotted a figure leering beyond the burnt body.

“Who are you?” you asked, unwilling to play the part of the victim, not when this assailant clearly had lethal purpose.

“Naive of you not to expect this, ya know,” he muttered, and moved out of the shadows.

You were just short of thinking that his voice sounded familiar, when he came into full view of the moonlight to reveal himself.

Dabi.

With hands in his pockets, and a joyless smile on his face, he carried the aura of a man who had all circumstance on his side. And you knew very well that he did.

“I figured if you were dumb enough to double cross us, that you’d also be dumb enough not to cover your tracks.” His foot tapped the forgotten phone on the ground, the one which had belonged to your late benefactor. “Eavesdropping on calls is easy enough, if you have tech savvy acquaintances.”

You tried to remember the League associates you’d met, and what their quirks had been. You couldn’t recall any with the capability to exploit your schemes, but that certainly didn’t mean you hadn’t been ignorant to assume you’d get away with this betrayal so easily. Apparently, you’d underestimated Dabi’s mistrust in you.

“As for whatever information on us you’re willing to sell,” he began, “I’ll be needing that back.”

You stood tall, proud to stand your ground, even as your hands started to fidget anxiously.

“Did Shigaraki send you?” you asked.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. But I’ll tell him the gist of it later, after I handle it. I’m curious. What exactly do you have on us?”

“Nothing,” you declared calmly, and without a haste of defense. “I have nothing on you.”

“Yeah?”

He kicked the burnt body with the cap of his boot. A piece of the crisped limb crumbled under the minimal force, and scattered along the concrete like debris.

“Is that what you were comin’ to sell to this guy?” he asked. “Nothing?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing the evidence and ambience were stacked against you. But you weren’t about to be cowed. You met his stare, matching his menace with defiance.

With the gravity of this situation quickly rising, you felt the warm brush of your quirk ready itself, prepared to defend in whatever way possible. You’d seen enough of Dabi’s power—and worse, his cruelty—to know that the dreadful anticipation you felt was fully justified.

“Bet you thought you were good at this sneaking around stuff, huh?” He took a step toward you; you stepped back. “I’ve been suspicious for a while, but honestly, I was more curious to see what you’d do, and how you’d do it.”

Now he was walking around the burnt body, forcing you to circle in the opposite direction.

You decided to drop any pretenses, lacking as they’d been in the first place.

“How long have you known?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve got an eye for this sort of stuff. And lately, it’s been on you.”

The threat behind his words suddenly made you hyperaware of the corpse between you two, of the putrid smell steaming off of it. Morbid fantasies seized you, and you realized you might soon be joining the heap of ash at your feet.

“So, I’ll ask again. What is it that you have? And what did this guy want with it?”

“I thought you were well-informed,” you returned, risking his patience, buying yourself some time.

He gave a gruesome, humored smile. It was a grisly contrast to his lifeless, torched victim below.

“I guess it doesn’t matter what you have on us,” he finally said.

The debased smile on his face remained, but there was a threatening descent in his demeanor, a pointed narrowing of his eyes that put a shiver down your spine.

“No one’s ever gonna get it, anyways. I’ll make sure of that.”

In the instant that his flames illuminated the gloom with their cyan, you turned on your heels and dashed into the darkness.

You didn’t know how spry Dabi was, or how easily he could catch up to you. But with what his long-range firepower could make up for, you doubted it mattered.

With most of the structures in the warehouse silhouetted against the dainty moonlight, traversing the interior in haste was nearly impossible. Even as you ran, you could still smell the cooked flesh, following you and dizzying your senses.

You couldn’t pinpoint the entrance, nor an exit. It left you stumbling practically blind through the poorly lit building, and you were thankful once you floundered upon a wall. You stumbled along, fingertips moving across the brick to guide you.

Somewhere behind you, Dabi was on the move. Now he spoke, his voice low and reverberating in the darkness.

“You’re startin’ to piss me off,” he called after you. “This’ll be a lot easier if you stop running.”

It occurred to you that he might want you alive, so that he could drag you back to Shigaraki Tomura, and face punishment at his hands—literally. That put heat into your steps, and you stumbled along that much faster in the darkness, hoping against hope that some source of escape might present itself.

The footsteps were behind you again, and quickly gaining. You moved carefully over junk strewn on the floor, and found yourself near a door. You twisted the knob, breathed out a quick sigh of relief to find it unlocked, and slipped inside.

You found yourself in a spacious room, an office of some sort. The first thing you noticed was the window across the room, throwing moonlight through its pane and brightening the dusty interior. You went to it quickly, and tried to wedge fingers underneath the frame and haul it open, to no avail.

“Come on girl, don’t make this hard,” Dabi called into the room. He was just beyond the door.

You bit your lip to keep a groan of frustration down, and hid in the corner of the room. As you did so, the door creaked open. You heard his boots crunching over the wooden threshold. Then the sound of the creaking door moving again. It closed, and clicked. He’d locked you both inside.

Then came silence.

You waited for him to speak, but nothing came. You peered out from your hiding spot, searching for him in the darkness. You saw only a faint outline of his form, the scant moonlight catching off the leather of his outfit.

“If I have to light this place up with you in it, that’s fine,” his voice echoed in the dark. Then came his punctuated, languid footsteps somewhere in the room. “But it’d be easier if you’re alive. I still have some questions for you.”

The thought of enduring what would probably be a horribly sadistic interrogation made your skin crawl. He wasn’t just here to catch you in your trespasses, but to squeeze information out of you, too.

Dabi moved across the room, searching for you. You couldn’t see him now, his silhouette hidden by stacked boxes and other clutter in the darkness. There was a side door that led to the outside, you knew. And you knew it had to be on this side of the building. You’d clocked it in your previous visits to the warehouse as an escape route in case of an emergency. This more than qualified.

But the dark gloom was so profound that locating the door was nearly impossible. This room was denied even a sliver of the moonlight.

At the least, Dabi was apparently as lost as you were. That, or he was taking his grueling time in his approach—which sounded much more fitting, especially knowing his fire might do him well if he needed to illuminate the room somehow. But clearly, he was toying with you. At least for now.

Just then, his footsteps stopped somewhere in the darkness. You waited, and waited some more. You wondered if he was expecting you to make a move, to expose yourself by sound. But you refused; the gloom was your ally, and you would utilize it in full.

But just as you thought you were safe behind the boxes, one of the shadows in the corner forsook its concealment, and he appeared.

Then, as you tried to flee, he slipped over to block your path. “I don’t think so,” said his shadow.

His cruel confidence gave his silhouette the appearance of something taller, something more menacing. The burnt odor returned in full force, and you realized it must have been radiating off his corrugated skin.

An instant later, you felt the wave of fire, and shrieked as the flames fed through the fabric of your shirt, singing delicate skin.

You dove for the floor, and rolled onto your back to extinguish the flames. But the damage was done, and as you backed yourself against the wall, your skin seared with fresh pain.

He stopped in front of you, leering down. His attack had merely been one of intimidation; he’d purposely grazed you, but the surrounding wooden boxes gladly kindled his fire, and quickly caught ablaze.

The flames rising around the room threw a sheen of blue over his expression: rigid and lacking mercy. You wondered if your schemes, your complicity in this act of betrayal, was worth whatever was to come next.

Your throat was tight. The dry, hot air choked you. But all you could do was glare up at him in a desperate show of defiance.

"You’re gonna regret ever thinking you could get away with this," Dabi said with a smile.

Indeed, you were thinking that very thing, when he reached for you.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

Text

În Viață Și În Moarte - In Life And In Death

ao3 link! you have every right to yell at me over on @homoo-wan-kenobi! I'm sorry for the sad fic, inspired by this ask by @schnuffel-puschel. tell me what you all thought, and please enjoy. mild violence and reader dies, I'm sorry. if it's any consolation, I cried writing this.

tu esti totul pentru mine - you're everything to me

***

Alcina had instructed you to stay in one of the rooms in the east wing of the castle, telling you not to open the door for anybody that was her, her daughters, or your handmaiden.

“I don’t care what commotion you hear outside this room, do not open this door for any reason. I need you to stay right here, draga mea, and I need you to take care of yourself and the baby.” Alcina said before she kissed your forehead.

“Come back to us, please.” You said softly as you squeezed her hand tightly, a move that she reciprocated.

That was four days ago. There wasn’t much commotion to be heard outside the door, just the wind howling outside your window. Your handmaiden brought you your meals whenever she could, often leaving you something to snack on just in case one of your meals was late. You’d often try to open the door, but soon realised that it was locked from the outside so despite Alcina’s words, you couldn’t let anybody in any way.

Pacing back and forth didn’t help with your anxiety over what was happening. What exactly was happening? Alcina didn’t tell you as she rushed you slightly to the other side of the castle. You jumped when the door to your room opened, hiding under the covers.

“Hello?” A voice called out. It definitely wasn’t Alcina. No, the voice was unfamiliar, but it sounded like a man’s voice. “Is anybody here?” The voice asked.

You slowly came up from under the covers, revealing your presence in the room. “Who are you?” You asked.

“My name’s Ethan Winters. What’s yours?” Ethan replied as he walked over to where you were on the bed.

"My name's Y/N. May I ask what you're doing here in the castle, Mr. Winters?" You asked.

"I'm looking for my daughter, Rose, they're keeping her here. Have you seen her?" Ethan asked. You shook your head. "I see you're having a baby too, right?" Ethan gestured to your protruding belly.

You smiled. "I am, she'll be born quite soon, actually." You replied.

Ethan nodded. "Well, we best get you out of this place. I'm sure the news of those monsters in this castle having my child worry you about them taking yours." Ethan replied as he grabbed your hand to pull you out of the bed, you resisted. "Y/N, what's wrong?" Ethan asked.

"The Lady of the castle has instructed me to stay here for my own safety." You replied. "She's taken very good care of me for well over a year, Mr. Winters."

Ethan scratched his head. "And you trust her?" You nodded your head. "Are you under a spell of some sort? Don't you see that she's just keeping you safe until she can get her hands on your child?" Ethan asked.

You slowly got out of the bed. "Alcina would never do anything to harm me or our child, Mr. Winters." You replied. "I'd really like it if you left the room or better yet, left the castle. Your daughter is not here, I'm afraid you've been misinformed." You explained.

"Maybe I have, but I can't just leave you here." Ethan said before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the room.

You struggled against him. "Mr. Winters, please, I'm perfectly safe. I appreciate your concern." You tried tugging your arm free but his grip was too tight. "Mr. Winters, you're hurting me." You whimpered slightly.

He stopped and let go of your wrist. "Sorry." Ethan said before he started walking again. You followed after him. "How do you get out of this place?" He muttered to himself.

"I can help you find the way out." You replied. "The front door should actually be open and then you're good from there." The two of you walked down the stairs. A maniacal laugh rang out. "Just keep going. That's probably Daniela."

You'd been right. "Y/N?" Daniela asked.

"Hi, Dani. I was just showing Mr. Winters the way out. He won't be bothering us anymore." You replied. You tried to open the front door but it wouldn't budge. You frowned. "Dani, why does Alcina have the front door locked?" You asked, turning back around to face her.

"To keep him from going out. Why aren't you in the room, Y/N? Mother's going to be very crossed with you." Daniela replied. "Cass! Bela! Mr. Winters is by the front door, if you're around." Daniela called out before she went to grab your hand.

"Don't touch her." Ethan said as he pulled out his gun.

You gasped. "Mr. Winters, what are you doing? Put the gun down." You said. "Please."

"Y/N, you really shouldn't witness what I'm about to do." Ethan replied. "Take this key, it'll lead you to the Courtyard. Whatever you do, don't turn around for any noises that you hear." Ethan handed you the key.

You shook your head and dropped the key to the floor. "No, I won't leave you alone with her." You replied. "Everything's going to be fine, Dani, I'm just going to help him leave the castle grounds and then I'll be back." You said.

"No, Y/N, you're not allowed to leave the castle, not with the baby on the way. Just go back to the room before Mother finds it empty." You nodded your head and turned to leave, but then you heard Ethan fire his gun, the bullet missing Daniela. "You son of a bitch." Daniela gritted through her teeth as she lunged forward towards him. You heard another two shots fire and then you heard a ringing in your ear and the faint sound of someone saying your name "Y/N? Y/N? Hey, stay with me." Daniela held you in her lap.

"What hap-" You couldn't get the whole question out.

"Cass! Bela! Mother! Please, come quickly!" You heard Daniela yell as loudly as she could. "You monster. Why the fuck would you shoot her?!" Daniela screamed at Ethan.

"I'm sorry, she got in the way. It was for you, only or you." Ethan was paralysed with shock, realising what he'd done. He dropped his gun.

You could hear the faint sound of buzzing and then faint clicking and clacking of heels. "Da- Dani, the b-ba-baby," You croaked out.

Daniela spoke to you through tears. "Shh, Y/N, Mother's almost here. She'll help you. You'll be fine. And the baby will be fine." Daniela rambled as she held onto your body tightly.

"Daniela? What happened?" Alcina asked. Daniela looked up at her. Alcina's eyes came upon your body and she turned to Ethan. "You fucking rat! What have you done?!" Alcina was furious. She wanted that man dead. You could hear the sound of blood squelching as she impaled Ethan with her claws, not stopping until her dress was covered in his blood or one of her daughters pulled her off.

"Mother, Y/N's losing blood fast, and the baby..." Daniela trailed off.

"Call Mother Miranda. Have her and Heisenberg get here as quickly as they can. Take Y/N to the sitting room and put her in a comfortable position." Alcina instructed her daughters. Alcina picked up Ethan's bloody body. "By the time I'm done disposing of his body, they should be here." Alcina left the room without another word.

You always thought a gunshot would kill someone instantly. You'd gotten hit in the shoulder and the chest. The shot to your chest should've been fatal, but here you were being carried by Daniela to the sitting room and being put into a comfortable position as her Mother had instructed. True to her word Mother Miranda and Heisenberg had gotten to the castle a few short seconds before Alcina came back.

"Mother Miranda, Heisenberg, she's in the sitting room." Alcina said as she guided them to where you were. Your breathing was quite shallow and it hurt to breathe. "Relax, my dear, Mother Miranda will do what she can to help you." Alcina ran her over your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Alcina, my dear, I don't think this'll work." Mother Miranda replied.

Alcina's face hardened. "Alci, think about Y/N and the baby." Heisenberg said. "We might not be able to save both of them."

Alcina eyes filled with tears at the thought of only one of you living. "No. No, we must help them both." Alcina said. "We can, we can deliver the baby and then tend to Y/N's wounds. Yes, yes, we'll give her the virus if we must." Heisenberg let out a deep sigh, Alcina scowled at him.

"Oh, Alcina, I'm afraid Y/N's lost more blood than I can work with. The virus won't take with the lack of blood." Mother Miranda replied. Alcina opened her mouth to protest, but Mother Miranda raised her hand. "However, I can deliver the baby if we can keep Y/N awake long enough. It's too risky to have her push with the blood loss so I'll have to cut into her."

Alcina nodded her head, taking your hand in hers. "Do what you must." Alcina replied. "I'm so sorry, iubirea mea. I've failed to keep you and our child safe, I failed at the one thing I promised you when you first came here. I failed at protecting you." Alcina pressed a kiss to the hand that she was holding.

You let out a small groan. "Al?" You asked.

"Yes, draga mea?" Alcina replied.

"The baby. Take care of her." It took you a while to get the sentence out but you managed to say it.

Alcina nodded her head. "Of course, my darling. I will protect her with everything I have in me. I won't break my promise to you twice, I wouldn't dare." Alcina could feel the tears falling down her face as Heisenberg's hand came upon her shoulder.

"You'll have to say goodbye now, Alci. It's likely that she won't wake up after the procedure." Heisenberg's word left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of you dying hurt him. You were like family to all of them even Mother Miranda. Heisenberg gave the hand Alcina wasn't holding a light squeeze before he walked over to the other side of the room. He couldn't find it in himself to say goodbye to you.

You could see the blurry outlines of Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela as they kneeled down beside you. You tried to give them a small smile but you just ended up grunting in pain at the attempt, coughing a bit.

"We'll miss you." Bela said. She placed a kiss to your cheek before standing up, the wetness of her tears lingering on your cheek.

Cassandra sniffled. "Terribly so. But we'll look after the little one, promise." Cassandra stroked your arm before standing next to Bela.

Daniela picked up your hand and looked up at her Mother. "It should be me lying here. His shots were meant for me, not you, you stupid little human. Why would you do that? It's not fair, you were supposed to be with us forever." Daniela wiped at her tears. "You said forever and now you're leaving us. Like two peas in a pod, you and Mother broke your promises. You stupid, stupid human, it should've been me." Daniela muttered those last few words to herself.

You gave her hand the tightest squeeze you could muster. "S-s-sor-sorry." Daniela brought your hand up to her mouth, her tears hitting the back of your hand. "Sorry."

Daniela pressed a kiss to your hand and then your forehead. "You better come back to us. I don't care how, just come back." Daniela whispered in your ear before she pushed herself up and went to stand with Bela and Cassandra.

Now it was Alcina's turn to say goodbye. You were fading faster, as your body was succumbing to your wounds.

"Y/N, my dear, tu esti totul pentru mine. Your spirit will live on in our child, I'm sure. She'll have your humour, your wisdom, and she'll have all of the love I can give her as I gave to you." Alcina placed one more kiss upon your forehead. "Goodbye, my love, may we meet again someday." Alcina went to rise but you moved your hand around to find hers. You could see her eyebrow raise through your fuzzy eyesight.

"Anastasia." You said softly. Alcina frowned. "Baby." You wheezed out.

Alcina smiled. "Anastasia. She who will rise again." Alcina said. "Sleep well, my darling. Our Anastasia will be taken care of." Alcina caressed your cheek before moving out of Mother Miranda's way.

You felt your eyes flutter close and you felt your breathing start to hurt less and less. Feeling the faint coldness of something against you as your breathing started to slow down. You heard soft cries as your hearing started to diminish. You felt at peace knowing that you were surrounded by the ones you called your family, knowing that they'd take great care of Anastasia. You felt at peace as you took your last breathe, your world now dark and quiet. As Mother Miranda had said while she sat beside you, "In each loss there is a gain, as in every gain there is a loss. and with each new ending comes a new beginning."

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu's daughters #ethan winters #mother miranda #heisenberg #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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giftofwonder · 3 years

Text

Cirque de Yuuie - MHA Various x f!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! So this is going to be a multi-part series of one shots. Each part will be a different character. There might be smut, we’ll see what happens. This is the introduction to the plot and characters. Some characters might have multiple parts as well. Let me know if you want anyone specific and also if you’d like to be added to their tag list! Also, let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated.

Intro

Your eyes cracked open, taking in the deep midnight hues that were cast over your room. Pale moonlight bathed everything in a faint glow.

You shifted, rolling to look at the clock on your bedside table. You groaned, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of your bed and turned toward your open window. You could hear the boisterous chatter from the streets below. A cool breeze swept in and danced along your heated skin, and you welcomed it with closed eyes and a soft sigh.

Each night you found yourself waking up restless and antsy, unsettled. You’d sit in the confines of your room, and then dress and make your way to the tavern across the road. Tonight was no different.

Your tired limbs trudged across the cobblestone, pushing through drunken bodies that reeked of liquor and sweat.

You grunted as you pushed open the heavy oak door, finding it just as congested as outside. Bodies littered the room heavily, the music and laughter so loud it left your ears ringing. You weaved through the empty spaces and took a seat on a stool by the bar.

“The usual?” You heard a voice called out.

You glanced up, locking eyes with the bar tender as you gave a faint smile and nod.

A glass was slid in your direction a few seconds later, and you wondered if he’d already had it ready for you. You figured that must be the case, it was routine at this point.

“No luck sleeping again, huh?” He said, leaning across the counter as you nursed your drink.

“Afraid not, seems like this is becoming my normal.” You gave a dry laugh, trying to offer up something lighthearted.

“Seems like it. Something troubling you?” His head cocked to the side.

“Just the usual, nothing too bad.” You said, shifting your glass around in your hand.

“Come on now, you waltz in here every night and drink, people with problems that aren’t too bad don’t find themselves perched on one of my stools this often.” He whispered, his gaze intense as he inched across the counter toward you. His hushed voice was lost in the roars of the crowd around you, but you could hear him clear as day.

He wasn’t wrong. You had to give him that. The cluster of people surrounding you dispersed as groups made their way to exit back to the street.

Mummers still resounded around the room, but in the now much quieter atmosphere, you felt yourself relaxing. You leaned forward, propping your elbows against the chipped counter and braced your cheek in your palm.

“I just feel...I don’t know...an overwhelming amount of disinterest in my life. I wake up, I work hard and long days, I come home, eat and bathe and sleep. It’s a never-ending cycle that I’m doomed to repeat each and every day. It all just feels so lackluster.” You said, your voice soft as your eyes gazed at nothing.

“Well, that is quite the conundrum. Might I ask, why don’t you just do something else?” He quipped back with a grin.

“If only it were that easy.” You sighed, eyes slowly drifting back to him.

“Isn’t it, though?” He asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Is it?” You asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Hear me out, I’m no stranger to a hard days work by any means, but I like what I do.” He shrugged.

“Making drinks?” You pressed.

“No, I watch people. Get to know them, help them sometimes. You work in a pub and you meet a lot of people, hear a lot of stories. People get a bit of alcohol in them and suddenly their lips become uncontrollably loose.” He chuckled.

“So you’re nosy, then?” You spat back, a smile turning the corners of your lips.

“I prefer curious, it sounds much more pleasant.” He offered.

He turned and grabbed an envelope from behind him and slid it across the counter to you. It was unmarked, other than the intricate wax seal holding it closed.

“What’s this?” You asked, taking it and inspecting the “CdY” ingrained in the seal.

“A chance to escape.” He shrugged, and then leaned back abruptly, hands grasping glassware and a towel to polish the crystals surface.

“What do I owe you?” You asked, standing and grabbing your coin purse.

“Nothing. This ones on me.” He waved his hand.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. By the way, what is your name?” You asked, tucking the envelope into your pocket.

“Shinso, now get out of here and go off to do whatever it is you do when you stumble out of here each night.” He called, waving his rag at you. You smiled at the mirth lighting his eyes, offering a wave as you turned and made your exit.

______________________________________

You plopped onto your small wicker chair, it’s grooves lining up with your back perfectly, molded to your body after the countless hours you had spent hunched over in this seat.

Calloused fingertips reached to caress a fine silk that you’d never be able to afford. You pulled it to you, laying it across the table ahead and dug the patterns for a dress from the chest beside you at your feet.

You were a seamstress, and a fairly popular one. Women and men from both high and low society sought you out to tailor and craft their garments.

You had stitched an amazing collection of clothing, from simple gowns to the most intricate of pieces. Your customers had often boasted about your work, that you were able to create anything.

Until recently, you had been doing fairly well for yourself. You had purchased a home of your own, a massive feat for an unwed woman, especially one in her early twenties.

In the last six months, that had changed though. There had been civil unrest, looting and fighting at the capital. The local government had pushed back, increasing taxes heavily. With that blow came another, a new tailoring business on the other side of town. It offered cheap labor, using children from the orphanage as virtually free hands. The turn around was quick, much faster than the length of time it took you to produce a garment. But the quality was terrible. They used cheap labor and cheaper materials.

The first time you had seen their work, you had laughed till tears brimmed your eyes. However, the quick production and cheap cost had ended up hitting you hard. While the wealthy had no issue having you fashion something for them, most everyone else had flocked to them. It wasn’t terribly hard to do a simple stitch. To take in a gown or a suit. Suddenly, you found yourself praying for work as the jobs got fewer and fewer.

Meanwhile the heightened taxes left your coin purse extremely light. You hadn’t struggled like this in a very long time.

You finished the silken garment, folding it delicately over your arm as you took it over to the rack to hang.

Once hung, you patted off your apron and felt the crinkling of the forgotten envelope tucked in your pocket. You pulled it out, fingers dipping into the paper to tear it open. The red of the invitation was so bright, a high quality velvet lined in gold trim. You then wondered the status of your friendly barkeep, but chalked it up to his large amount of connections. Surely, a drunken man could be persuaded into giving an invitation in exchange for a free round.

Your eyes scanned along the paper, reading the fancy script that outlined the details of the event. You scoffed as you made your way back to your chair, shaking your head as the invitation was tossed onto your table.

A few moments passed before you picked it back up and read over the card again.

______________________________________

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the large gate before you. You were in a state of awe at the lights and music making the night feel alive.

You stopped at the ticket booth, met with a disgruntled employee who looked half asleep. His thick yellow quilt was pulled taunt around his body and his hollow eyes stared at you with something akin to annoyance.

“Welcome to “Cirque de Yuuie”, admission is ¥220.” His bored voice stated monotonously.

“Oh...I actually have an invitation.” You said, giving a weak smile.

He held your gaze for a moment before he quirked a brow, his eyes scanning over you before he gave a sigh and a shrug.

“Alright, give it here.” He held out his pale hand, and you gently placed the invite in his palm.

He quickly pressed a stamp to your hand and shooed you away, so you turned and entered in through the gate.

______________________________________

You had wandered around the grounds for a while, but saw no familiar faces. It was odd, not even children were present. The cost had been rather high to enter, perhaps it was an adults only event.

After you had completed your lap, you were not too far from the entrance to the large tent in the center of the area. Red and white fabrics were draped beautifully, tied off with an intricately woven gold banding.

As you went to step forward, a large wooden pole cut in front of you, you gasped, your head shooting up to find a cheerful looking clown above.

“Whoops! S’cues me miss! Almost stepped on ya there!” He laughed, his painted lips opening to reveal his bright smile.

“Oh, no I’m sorry! I was enthralled by everything and wasn’t paying attention.” You waved him off.

“Ah don’t worry about it, it’s a beautiful night, and the tent looks great! I’ve been distracted by it myself! The names Mirio, by the way.”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded and stepped to make his way off back into the crowd.

“HEY WAIT!” You heard a loud voice call out, and not a moment later, two more clowns turned the corner. One with green hair raced along side a blonde with large sunglasses and a lightening-shaped black streak in his hair. They were tailed by a very awkward and scared looking mime who ran behind them silently looking like he was going to be sick.

“Come on, Amajiki! Hurry up!” The blonde clown yelled behind him, causing the mime to flinch and pick up the pace. You laughed at their antics, they were definitely a good source of entertainment.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THIS IS YOUR ANNOUNCER: PRESENT MIC, PLEASE GATHER TO THE MAIN TENT AS THE FESTIVITIES ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN.....YEAAAHHH!!!!” A loud voice blared through the speakers overhead.

You pushed through the gathering crowd, entering through the fabric doorway. The ceilings were vaulted, and you were amazed by how large it seemed inside.

Chatter broke out amongst those around you as you passed a sign that read “Yuuie’s Spectacular Freak Show!”

You followed the corridor, peering in the labeled rooms as you passed by.

“Strongest Men Alive! All Might and Red Riot!” Inside the room were two muscular men. The blonde man was tall, looming over the crowd as he smiled and flex. The redhead was laying on a bed of nails, and a crazed looking woman with pink hair walked across him while he looked on unfazed.

“One Body- Two Men! Twice!” A man sat, arguing with himself, the crowd would call out questions and he’d answer two opposing ways, often breaking out into an argument. The crowd giggled and taunted as he yelled seemingly to himself.

“The Vampire: Toga!” Your stomach twisted as you watch the girl give a cat-like grin and chug a vial of blood. Shackles held her to her spot but she called out to the audience, telling them to come closer and let her have a drink.

“Invisible Girl: Toru!” You blinked at the empty room, rolling your eyes as you pushed past to the next stall.

“Frog Woman: Tsuyu!” A girl in a green dress crouched in a pool, her long tongue falling from her mouth as her large hand gave a wave. You couldn’t help but notice her webbed fingers and the faint croaks.

“Worlds Largest Woman: Mt Lady!” An insanely large woman sat on her knees, smiling and chatting with the audience. She was beautiful, but had to be at least 9’ tall.

“World’s Largest Man: Fatgum!” A very large man sat in the center of the room smiling and waving as he let children drift into his stall and eat from the various sweets lining the table beside him. Though the adults around you spoke insults quietly, you couldn’t help but think the man looked very kind. You smiled softly at the sight of a child hugging him in thanks before returning to their mothers side.

“Bird-Man: Hawks!” A young man laughed loudly, his beautiful red wings flapping as he gave a slight show to those who watched. Many looked on in awe and wonder, and women swooned at his charm. His feathers seemed to almost sparkle and while you noticed something mischievous in his gaze, you were mesmerized nonetheless.

“Dabi the Dragon and the Indestructible Bakugou!” This room was larger, and smoke poured out. You were curious about this one, as there was no crowd gathered out front. You only saw one person, a rather attractive but angry looking man, growling as he noticed you. He rolled his eyes as he lit off explosives in his hands.

Your hands shot up to cover your eyes, before peering out to see the man looked fine, bored even.

“That was amazing!” You exclaimed.

“Course it was!” He sneered.

Suddenly, the curtain behind him rustled and another man emerged from the darkness. He was shirtless, his body scared in burns that wrapped around his torso, arms and face. His black hair spiked wildly, just like the blonde beside him. He smirked at you, sauntering toward you before lifting your chin with his index finger.

“Want me to put on a show for you, doll face?” He whispered. You nodded mutely, feeling much like the mime you had saw earlier that night. He chucked and stepped back. His hand grasped a bottle and he turned his back toward you, taking a large swig from the drink.

He abruptly turned back, and blue flames shot from his mouth and filled the room. You could immediately feel the immense heat and no longer wondered how his scars came to be.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, giving a small cough before grinning at you.

“Well, what’d ya think, princess?”

“It was amazing! Does it hurt?” You asked.

“Hmm? Nah, not really. Just burns a little.” He snickered at his joke while Bakugou rolled his eyes in the background.

“I also do a bit of sword swallowing.” He added, stepping in close to you.

“Oh, yeah? That’s a neat talent to have.” You spat back awkwardly.

“I could teach you, after the show that is. I’ve got a good one for you to practice on.” His deep voice said in a hushed tone, hot breath hitting you as his hand gripped the crotch of his pants.

You stumbled back quickly, mumbling about needing to find a seat, and then ran off to the main room of the tent.

Your heart was pounding as you took an empty seat in the front row that had your invitation number on it.

The lights around you dimmed and the seats behind began filling quickly. People chatted amongst themselves until the music changed and the curtains at the far side of the tent were drawn.

A pale looking man with light blue hair and red eyes slowly walked out, taking center stage.

“Welcome. I’m so glad all of you came to join us for the show.” His hoarse voice spoke out loudly. His eyes dragged along the audience, taking in those around him.

“My name is Shigaraki and I’ll be your host tonight. You’ll see things that you never imagined, acts of wonder put on display before you. Prepare to be in awe and amazed.” He cheered, giving and eerie grin.

______________________________________

Halfway through the show, they called for an intermission. The lights brightened as people stood and flocked outside to grab drinks and food.

You stayed put, reflecting on the show so far. There had been an amazing act with tightrope walking, acrobats and aerial silks. They had been called “Children of the Sky” by those sat around you. Aoyama, Mina, Uraraka and Nejire were their names.

Then there had been the father and son act of fire performance. Enji and Shouto Todoroki. They danced with fire and spun batons and hoops that were blazing. Their act would have been more enjoyable if the father had been quiet, but instead every few moments he’d call out to his son correcting his posture and moves. Mid performance, Dabi had joined them on stage. His blue flames shining brightly in contrast. He had quickly noticed you and his eyes lit up as your stomach filled with dread.

He marched over, pulling you from your seat as gasps and whispers of his damaged skin rang through the crowd. He didn’t seem to notice. Or didn’t care. He had spun you around, dancing as his azure fire lit his arms. You were worried you’d be burned, but the fire never touched your skin. He brushed his arms with his hands, extinguishing the flame, as the music had haunted. You watched the smoke rise from his skin as you frowned, but he simply took your hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it before walking away.

You heard a voice rasp out “fucking show off” before seeing the angry blonde, Bakugou, take off after him.

Now you sat, watching a small man with balls on his head. He wore a jesters outfit and juggled before those left seated in the crowd. Slowly he made his way to you.

“Hey, how do you know Dabi?” He asked bluntly, wonder in his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t. Not really. I saw him in the freak show. That’s all.” You said, uncomfortable with the small mans leering.

“You actually watched him?” He asked dumbfounded. “No wonder he’s all over you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked perplexed.

“Uh hello, he’s gross looking. Definitely not as attractive as someone like me.” He beamed at you. You stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond and afraid to break the poor guys dilution.

“Hey I also do puppet stuff, you wanna see?” He asked, tone chipper.

“Oh, no that’s okay-“

“Okay cool, watch this!” He cut you off, pulling a small puppet from his suit. He dropped it and it limply hit the ground, the string much too long for him. The puppet dragged around weirdly as the jester spoke in a high pitch, giving the wooden body a voice.

You blinked, watching the train wreck as the doll slid through the dirt, getting jerked around by the man before you. He picked up the puppet and threw it at you, it landing in your lap. Then he pulled the string and yanked it back to the ground. You abruptly stood and walked away, hearing him call after you, but you only quickened your pace.

Once outside in the fresh air, a loud bellowing laugh burst from your lips. That was the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to deal with and you had been holding in laughing in the strange boys face.

“Seems like you’re enjoying the show.” A voice cut in.

Your head quickly spun, meeting the red eyes of the ring leader.

“Yeah! It’s nice, you guys are doing an amazing job!” You scratched your neck, feeling the hairs on your arms standing at the sudden tension as the mans smile fell.

“You weren’t invited here.” He stated.

“I...well I was given an invitation.” You replied.

“It wasn’t yours though. It wasn’t meant for you.” He said, eyes blank as his head cocked to the side.

“No, it wasn’t. I don’t know who it belonged to. A bartender gave it to me.” You explained.

“Hmm, is that so? Well, do enjoy the show then. But do me a favor, sit in a different seat when you go back in.” He sneered, and then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

You headed back inside, choosing a different seat in the front row that had been unclaimed earlier.

The music roared again as the clowns, Midoriya, Kaminari and Mirio, put on a show. Kaminari was being shocked while Midoriya rode around on a unicycle. Mirio stayed on his stilts and walked around the stage dancing and doing tricks. The trio was truly fun to watch, and then the mime, Amajiki, was shoved forward. A spotlight hit him as he stood frozen in fear.

“Come on buddy, you can do it!” Mirio whispered loudly in support.

Amajiki took in a big breath and lifted his arms, hands shaking as he formed an invisible wall in front of himself when a box hit him in the head and a drunken man “booed”. Amajiki immediately rushed to the shadows, pressing his face into the wall of the tent as an air of dread surrounded him.

“Uhhh...look over here!” Midoriya yelled out, pulling the attention of the crowd as he gave a large shock to Kaminari. Kaminari then “beeped” and “booped” and drooled as he wobbled around. The audience cheered and laughed.

Finally it was time for the final act of the night, the mysterious and powerful Mr. Compress.

A spotlight roamed the stage, and in a cloud of smoke he appeared. He wore a mask, top hat and yellow overcoat. His cane tapped against the floor with each step he took.

“Tonight, I will make you question everything you know about the world. Everything you believe to be real!” He called, and the crowd went wild, hooting and hollering.

He started with a few jokes, one about how he wasn’t the type to pull a rabbit from his hat, but then his hat shifted and he took it off. He pulled out the first rabbit, and then another, and then two more. You laughed at his seeming confusion. Finally, he plopped his hat back on his head and called out Bakugou to the stage. Bakugou marched to him, stomping his feet and crossing his arms as he came to a stop beside the magician.

Mr. Compress draped a large piece of fabric over the man, and then quickly pulled the cloth back to reveal a confused looking Shouto.

“I was just over there.” Shouto said, pointing to the other side of the tent.

“Yes! And now you’re over here!” Compress smiled, giving a grand wave of his arm.

“Aren’t I the one doing the magic then?” Shouto said blandly while Compress laughed.

“Alright then, do another trick for us.” Mr. Compress said, his tone amused. Shouto stood there silently, expression blank.

“I’m-“

“YOUR FIRE! USE YOUR FIRE SHOUTO!” His father yelled from off stage. Shouto glanced behind him, annoyance radiating from him.

“No. Nevermind. Just put me back where i was.” He said to Compress. Not a second later, the cloth was thrown over him and pulled off to reveal what looked like 100 butterflies.

The crowed oohed and awed in response, and you felt your eyes widen in amazement as well. It was so quick, you were trying to understand the trick, but could hardly wrap your head around it. This guy was good.

He went through a few more tricks, each a little better than the last. Finally he called for a volunteer from the audience.

Many hands shot into the air, while yours meekly raised. You weren’t one who gravitated to the spotlight, in fact, you had no desire to go onto the stage and have everyone’s eyes on you. But, you had promised yourself you’d let go for tonight and do as the bartender recommended. Escape.

Perhaps he could sense your distress, or maybe it was just because you were the closest to him, but he slowly walked toward you and extended his hand.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love it if you could assist me madam.”

You smiled, cursing inwardly at yourself, as you took his hand and let him pull you to your feet and lead you to the stage.

Red Riot ran over holding a heavy wooden chair, one you might find used as a throne.

Compress lifted the bottom of his mask and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, much like Dabi did, before directing you to take a seat. You did as you were asked, feeling the heat of the light on you, thankful that it’s blinding light prevented you from being able to see the crowd.

Mr. Compress started his speech about defying nature, and the use of powerful magic.

“Do not look away for a second, it is imperative you see your reality bent before you. With the help of my beautiful assistant, I will show you that the limitations we set for ourselves are often just an illusion. Anything you can think of is possible!”

He turned toward you, pulling the yellow coat from his body and leaving himself in his black vest and pants, the orange shirt beneath now visible. He pushed up his sleeves and held his hands outstretched toward you. You felt the chair jerk and sucked in a breath. It lurched again, and soon you were floating above the ground. You kicked your feet and smiled, trying your hardest not to shift in the chair.

Then the lights flickered, and a spotlight fell from the ceiling, crashing into the empty seat that had been assigned to your invitation.

In the moment of chaos, the chair dropped harshly, cracking against the ground as the impact tossed you to the side. You grunted, the wind knocked from your lungs and your eyes unfocused after smacking your head in the fall.

Screams were heard as the crowd panicked and scattered, the roars of animals following after them.

A harsh tug lifted you back onto your feet, and in the darkness you could see nothing, but allowed the person to drag you from the tent as your head spun.

Your mind was trying to process as you were pulled into a trailer, and as your body met the cot inside, you fell unconscious.

#dabi x reader #bakugou x reader #mr compress x reader #shigaraki x reader #mirio x reader #amajiki x reader #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #fatgum x reader #aizawa x reader #shinsou x reader #hawks x reader #kirishima x reader #all might x reader #endeavour x reader #kaminari x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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