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gender-trash · 13 days

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I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

#so anyway i love going to art museums--#the trashcan speaks #long post

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spade-club · 6 months

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Aaaaa. Its raining today so getting out of bed is super hard. This is not a good development for my body as ive reached "need to get a job immediately or else I lose my appartment" status bc damn. I'm hella unreliable because of my back and I dont want to have to push through this all the time. Just experiencing it at home is hard enough. I wish I knew what to do...

#Aaaaaa #having a day #probs MJ or something idrk #just having a melty blurry one today because existing is hard #I'm in my room rn tho and it reminds me of my room from my parents house because it has all the same things in it & set up so similarly now #and im just watching youtube videos about videogames #but im in the future now where I have to worry about rent & utilities & credit card debt #& car insurance ew ugh. too much to worry about financially!! and all I want is to like. not feel unstable about multiple of my basic needs #shelter. food. sleep. all really fucking difficult to juggle rn #I should look into like a rideshare or delivery job... I just dont know which ones are actually good? I guess I know ppl. i can ask around #nvm just remembered an old coworker telling me about one they did and how well it was going!! looking into it now maybe!#excited by the idea of getting a couple extra dollars for driving around!#even tho sitting in my car for too long hurts me too. its not as bad and I really enjoy driving #& I can just do it now... yeah?#okay hold on this was a big revelation!! excited now!!

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 9 months

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A Fresh Start [24]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: [18+ only] controlled training combat, self defense lessons, smut (we're finally here, folks), oral female receiving

Word Count: 6,444

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: so sorry this took nine thousand years. i probably have more announcements here but i'm bone tired so let's get on with it lolol also lowkey i did not edit this one to the degree in which i should have i am so sorry]

#24: RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS

"i'm not sure what this is between us, but i am sure that i don't want it to stop, whatever it is." -j.a. redmerski

What does one wear on a date where combat was the plan? It wasn’t a question you thought you’d ever be asking yourself, yet here you were. After staring at your options for another beat, you grabbed something you’d be able to move in. The more athletic clothing you owned weren’t really the cutest, but your goal with them was focused on utility. You could always save the cute outfit for your part of the date tonight. The idea of impressing Din by being competent on his date and then pretty on yours was appealing to you.

Din was dropping Grogu off with Peli until tomorrow morning. With every second he was gone, you found yourself more nervous. Being with Din was always so easy. That was part of the reason why you fell for him so fast. Having him as a cemented part of your day was natural. So, it made no sense that you would be nervous at all, but it seemed the butterflies in your belly didn’t give a damn about logic.

You wandered back out into the main room of the house and let your eyes glance over the decor you had already set up. The second Din had left the house you had tossed up the decorations. In preparation for tonight, you had food prepped in the fridge for dinner and you had hung string lights all over the kitchen and living room. A blanket was laid out on the floor with a few pillows just for comfort. It was a simple set up and initially it had excited you, but in the time it took for you to get dressed for your combat date your anxiety had grown. What if it were too simple? What if you didn’t know Din as well as you thought you did?

Before you could second guess yourself any further, you hurried out of the house. Din had told you to meet him at the tarmac which caught you off guard. You assumed this would be taking place at least on world. It made you curious as to what he had planned exactly. On your way to the tarmac, you returned the greetings to those who waved to you. A few even tried to stop you to ask about something medical and you had to politely point them toward the clinic where they’d find Aayla. Any other day and you’d linger to help, but you had a Mandalorian waiting for you.

You had only stepped a few feet onto the tarmac when a hand was suddenly in yours and dragging you through rows of parked ships. “Din?” You questioned the shiny, beskar covered man. “Hi to you too, honey.”

“I’ve had three different people try and stop me to ask about one problem or another.” Din grunted.

“Aw,” You chuckled, “I had people try to stop me for medical advice! Look at us. Staples of the community.”

“Today, they need to make do without two staples.”

It had been a surprise when Din pulled you onto the little starship, but you were completely caught off guard when said ship broke through the atmosphere of a small, green world. You gazed out through the glass at the greenery that formed the large jungle you now flew over. He said he was taking you to a nearby, abandoned and uninhabited moon.

“Din…” You breathed in shock. Maker, this no named moon was gorgeous.

“You said you missed seeing the color green.” Din replied simply. Your eyes snapped to him in awe. It had been a toss away comment made quite some time ago. Growing up on Naboo, you had raised with forests and bodies of water. Then you bounced from Coruscant to Tatooine to Nevarro where the ground was non-existent or dry.

Din steered the ship toward a clearing in the jungle that sat on the edge of a cliff side where you had a view of the never ending trees. It was just shades of green and blue as far as your eyes could see. As soon as the ship was safely parked, you leapt out of your seat and rushed down the now lowering ramp.

The air was cool and humid. You took in a deep breath and marveled at how the smell of earth and vegetation filled your lungs. Din’s heavy steps came up behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to give him a broad grin. You were beaming in the reflection of his visor.

“So, this is okay?” He asked with an almost nervous tinge to his voice.

“Okay?” You laughed. “Din, this is…” You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your midsection and hold you close. “Thank you for this.”

“You may want to hold off on thanking me.” Din chuckled in your ear. “We haven’t even gotten to the rest of the date.”

You pulled back with a smirk and held a finger up at him. “I think you mean ‘courting session’.” Din let out a soft laugh before letting his hands fall from your side. You watched curiously as he began to unlatch portions of his armor. Your eyes widened and you glanced around outside the ship as if there would suddenly be a crowd where there hadn’t been one before. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re going to spar.” Din replied simply. “I want to make sure you can defend yourself.”

“And you need to strip down… why?”

Din huffed, “I’m not stripping down. I’m just removing my beskar.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms with a quirk of your eyebrow, “Who says you’re not the one who is gonna get hurt here?” Din laughed while pulling off his chest piece. The laugh was accurate. There was no way in hell you were going to even land a hit on him unless he wanted you to, but you feigned shock and disbelief. “Wow. How smug of you, Mandalorian.”

Din tilted his helmet at you in a ‘really?’ manner while pulling his cloak off. It left him in just his dark brown flight suit and you shouldn’t have found the plain outfit as attractive as you did. You continued to stand there and stare with a smile as he pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots. Din set his hands on his hips, and you motioned toward his clothes. “Feel free to keep going. I won’t mind.”

“Alright, enough.” Din chuckled and set his hands on your shoulder. He turned you around and lightly pushed you out of the ship. You laughed under your breath and once you stood where he wanted in the field by the ship, he let his hands drag down to your hips. You expected him to spin you to face him, but instead he just took a step closer. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his chest against your back. In a softer voice, he leaned his head closer to the side of yours. “How much self-defense do you know?”

“Oh, you know, the basics.” You mumbled with a little shrug. If you had to quantify the self defense you knew it would probably add up to less than the basics. Suddenly, before you could even blink, Din’s right arm wrapped around your neck in a choke hold. Your eyes widened and your hands lifted to grip the crook of his elbow to try and pull him away. “Dank farrik!”

Din flexed his arm enough for you to feel it but it wasn’t cutting off your air flow. You felt nervous for a whole other reason. His helmet was pressed against the side of your face in this hold, and he was so close that you could hear the slight static hum of his modulator. “Escape me, ner kar’ta.” You swallowed nervously and tried uselessly to tug Din’s arm away from your throat. He chuckled and you tried to kick his legs but even when you did make contact he didn’t budge. “You can do better than that.”

You thrashed your shoulders with a grunt, but he locked his grip. Din lifted you up so your toes only barely brushed the ground and began to drag you backwards. You yelped in surprise and rapidly tapped against his arm⏤ the universal sign for giving in.

Din set you back down and loosened his arm to hold you by the arms, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I am.” You replied. “I just didn’t see myself getting out of that anytime soon.”

He chuckled and slipped his arm back where it had been. Din nudged you and your hands went back to the crook of his elbow. “Step one foot forward.” You stepped out with your left foot. “And use your other foot to slip to the side and turn around. You wanna⏤”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, you tried to slip to his right side, but the second you tried to turn you found his hold around your neck tighter as he pinned you to his side. Din let out a soft laugh, and you beat on his back a bit to try and pull out.

“You slipped out the wrong way.” Din said.

“I noticed, thanks.” You muttered.

Din loosened his hold enough that you could straighten back up. “Try the other way.” You did the same thing, but this time you spun toward the left. Now, you were facing Din’s chest with his arm resting on the back of your neck and shoulders. “Good. Now push me away.” With all your strength, you shoved against Din’s midsection and you stumbled apart. “Very good, ner kar’ta. Again.”

He made you do it a few more times with his arm tighter each pass, and it got easier and more smooth every time you did it. You did it one more time, grinning triumphantly when you pushed him away, but this time Din lunged to grab you. His leg hit the back of yours and you went sprawling back. A cry of surprise left your lips and you braced for the blow of hitting the ground. However, at last minute Din caught you and carefully laid you against the grass the two of you were practicing on.

You opened your mouth to complain, but found your voice missing. Din was straddling you with his knees pressed to the ground on either side of your hip. He held himself up so he was carrying his weight on his knees and not crushing you. The sight of Din towering over you like this made you ache with need. He was right there. You could drag your hands up his thick thighs and to his belt with such ease. If this was affecting him the same way it was you, he didn't show it.

The sound of overhead thunder from distant storm clouds made Din look up as he searched for the source. Seeing your opportunity, you sat up and threw yourself forward to push Din backwards. Caught off guard, he fell back and you threw yourself on top of him. “Ha! I⏤” You didn't register what Din did, his movements were a quick blur of color, and suddenly you were on your back again, “Hey!”

Din grabbed your wrists to pin on the ground by your head. Rather than straddling you, this time he was situated between your legs. Oh, Maker. This was worse in the best kind of way. Din tilted his head, “That was cheating.”

“Whoops?” You gave him a sheepish smile. Din shifted so his weight was pinning your arms down rather than resting on the back of his calves. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know, I thought combat meant I was gonna get to punch and kick you more.”

“Should I be worried about how eager you are to punch me?”

You laughed, “Really though.”

“The chances of you being in an actual fist fight is lower than you being placed in a hold.”

“I mean, I’m planning to avoid both of those options.”

“I like that plan, but it’ll help me sleep at night knowing you at least know how to free yourself.” Din replied with a low chuckle. His hands lifted off your wrists to place a light hold on your throat. Your chin tilted up, making room for his large hands, and your reflection in his visor showed you that you were not hiding how badly you wanted him. Din didn’t apply any more pressure than the light hold he already had on you, but he did lower his face closer to yours, “You think you can focus and get out of this hold before we get rained out?”

You squirmed under him, hips shifting against his, and you felt his body stiffen. A slow smile crossed your face as you moved your hips more deliberately this time. Din let out a soft grunt, and you chuckled, “Guess that depends. You think you can teach me how without getting distracted?”

“Wayii, ner kar’ta.” Din murmured. He lifted a hand off your neck to grab your right hand and set it on the wrist of the hand still pretending to choke you. “Hold here and…” Din set your other hand on his left shoulder. “With this hold, you’re gonna pivot out from under me and put me in an arm bar.”

“Um, sure.” You said skeptically.

Din nodded to your left leg, “Put that foot against my hip so you can lift your other. You need it across my shoulder blades.” You tried to do as he said and it forced your hips up from the ground in a position that felt unnatural. “Good, good. Now that foot on my hip? Lift it and throw it over my head so both your legs are resting on my same shoulder.” With a grunt you did just that and it left the arm you had been holding trapped between your arms. Naturally, the hand that was on his shoulder fell to hold his wrist and you pushed your hip back down to the ground and it forced Din onto his back as you straightened your body. “Good, that’s⏤ah!” He tapped the thigh laying on his throat. “Good.”

You let go of him, but the moment you did he was on top of you once more. You cried out, startled, but Din had his hands at your throats. “Again. Faster.”

He squeezed just enough to get you moving. You followed his instructions, trying to remember each step, and you successfully got him into another arm bar. You let go of his arm so you weren’t accidentally hurting him, but you kept your legs where they were. One rested over his neck, right under his helmet, and the other on his lower chest. His arm bent so he could rest his hand on your thigh and he gave it a playful squeeze.

Din began to laugh and the sound was so relaxed, so boyish, that it brought a warm smile to your face. You sat up, leaning back on your hands, and stared down at him. His entire body was relaxed as he lazily dragged his hand back and forth on your thigh.

“This position can’t possibly be comfortable.” You teased.

Din’s helmet turned to look back at you. “Ner kar’ta, I could spend the rest of my life right here.” He squeezed your thigh again and chuckled. “Right between your thighs.” Your face grew warm at his words and Din rubbed your leg. “You’re doing so good. Making me proud.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and watched as a drop of water plinked against Din’s helmet. Then there was a second, then a third, and then you and Din were in a downpour. You pulled your legs off him and the two of you scrambled off the ground and back to the cover of the ship.

“Just… Just give it a minute or two.” Din stood at the edge of the cover so he could peer up at the now dark sky. “It’ll pass.” The clouds had rolled in quick and sudden, but they lingered. A full ten minutes passed and Din stood in his frustrated dad pose at the end of the ramp. You wandered down to stand beside him. He sighed, “I'm so sorry. If I had known it was going to rain I would’ve taken us somewhere else.”

“Din, this place is perfect.”

“It’s storming.”

“Yeah, but,” You set your hand on his arm, “We’re together.” Din turned his head to glance at you. “That’s all that matters.” The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt. You held your hand out to feel the rain against your skin. A thought occurred to you. “When’s the last time you felt the rain on your face?”

Din shrugged, “I fell into the Living Waters.”

“That’s called drowning,” You shook your head, “And it doesn’t count.”

“I took a shower last night.”

“Still not the same.”

He shrugged in response.

You squeezed his arm, “Well, this moon is uninhabited according to you. I can sit in the ship with the ramp up, and give you a second.” He tilted his head in what you assumed was confusion. “Everyone deserves to feel the rain on their face. Just to⏤ to feel alive, and we’re not getting any rain storms in Nevarro anytime soon.”

Din nodded once. You turned to walk back into the ship, but his hand slipped into yours. He squeezed your hand and pulled you out into the rain. You flinched at the first few drops, the cold water startling even knowing it was coming, and on instinct you lifted your head up so the rain splattered across your face. Din’s hand left yours but it was quick to find your skin once more. He cupped your jawline and you tore your gaze from the sky to his visor. His thumb dragged against your cheekbone.

“Close your eyes.” Din whispered.

Without hesitation, you let your eyes fall shut. Din’s hand fell away from your face. You heard the hiss of his helmet followed by the soft thud of heavy beskar landing on soft grass. More than anything in the worlds, you wished you could watch him experience this. Din let out a quiet sigh, close to a soft moan, and your lips twitched up into a smile. A pair of hands cupped your face and your own hands rose to rest on top of his. Din was close⏤ his body radiated heat. The tip of his thumb traced your bottom lip.

“Gar're bid mesh'la.” Din murmured and he was close enough that you felt his warm breath fan across your mouth. “So beautiful, ner kar’ta.” Warm lips slotted against yours and you breathed Din in. As always, Din kissed you with every part of who he was⏤ every single time was its own unique experience. His hands roamed down your body, never leaving contact, until they found your hips. Din’s lips broke from yours but continued to brush against yours as he sucked in a breath, “I… You’re so important to me.” The hands on your hips slipped up and under your shirt. His touch hot against your cold, damp skin. “Everything, ner kar’ta.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull his lips back against yours. The kiss was bruising. A desperate tangle of teeth and tongue in a attempt to get closer⏤ as if he wasn’t already pinning the two of you chest to chest with his strong arms. The kiss began to simmer in desperation, but the passion remained. Even when it seemed slow as you caught your breath, he continued to lightly press his lips against yours in soft, chaste kisses. As if he couldn’t stand being apart.

“Din…” You murmured softly. Thunder rumbled overhead. The power of the sound competed with the pounding of your heart. Din nipped at your lower lip before dragging the tip of his tongue against the spot. You let out a soft sigh, and he pulled your lower lips between his own. His hands had slipped out of your shirt so they could instead cup your face and tilt your face at the ideal angle to allow him to continue his onslaught. He dragged his lips across your cheek until they pressed against the skin right under your ear. An involuntary shiver rocketed down your spine and you trembled enough that Din must have felt it.

“I need to get you out of the rain before you catch a cold.” Din mumbled against your skin.

You sighed and when he tried to pull back you trapped him by wrapping your arms around his torso, “That’s an old wives’ tale. Being in the rain doesn’t make you sick.”

“Fine, doc. I need to get you out of the rain before we get struck by lightning.”

“If you want I can make up some statistics about lightning strikes.”

Din chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound, and you felt him kneel down. You stayed in place until the cool metal of his helmet pressed against your forehead. At the reassuring touch, you let your eyes flutter open. In his visor’s reflection, you saw what a mess you were. Soaked to the bone with swollen lips. You groaned, “Maker, I look like a drowned porg.”

“A very cute, drowned porg.”

You shoved at his chest with a laugh and Din chuckled and began to drag you back toward the ship. The two of you left puddles in the ship and you helped Din get his armor back on. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable with how wet his flight suit was, but he’d be parking in a populated area of Nevarro and couldn’t go without it.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” Din said as you sat down in the co-pilot seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you dare apologize for the best first ‘courting session’ ever.”

Din let out a soft laugh and brought the ship up into the air. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh⏤ fingers curling into your skin as his thumb rubbed back and forth. You leaned back in your seat and despite the gorgeous scenery right outside the window, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his form.

There was never a lull in the conversation with Din. Talking to him always came naturally. It made you silly for ever being nervous about your portion of the date in the first place. After getting back to Nevarro, the two of you had gone back home and when Din saw the decor you babbled through an anxious explanation of your plans. He had been delighted at the sound of it. It took no time for the two of you to clean up after the courting session episode. Din traded his armor for a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you had tosses aside the wet work out clothes to put on a simple dress that made you feel cute with buttons down the torso.

Din hovered over you while you made food and helped despite you telling him he didn’t need to. Then, the two of you just enjoyed one another’s company. Back to back, eating dinner, and basking in the glow of the string lights you had hung up.

“This really is so incredible. Thank you.” Din said.

You set aside your bowl with a chuckle, “You don’t have to thank me for that, Din.”

“No, I do. I know this isn’t…” Din paused and there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t quite place. He sighed, “This isn’t typical. I’m sorry I can’t take you to a restaurant in town and sit across from you for a normal meal.”

“Din, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But⏤”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You shook your head. “I’d have every single meal, for the rest of my life, hidden away or in private as long as it meant I got to have them with you. That’s all that matters.”

You felt him begin to turn and immediately shut your eyes with a mumble that he was safe. Din’s fingers found the side of your face and you allowed your body to follow his movements as he pulled you to face him. His lips were on yours again with no preamble or hesitation. It only lasted a brief moment, pure and chaste, before he separated to lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good to me.” Din’s voice sounded hoarse as his hand traced the side of your face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be cared about⏤ you deserve to be…” The word ‘loved’ sat on the ip of your tongue, and you only barely caught it in your mouth before it tumbled out. You were confident of how you felt, and you were highly suspicious that Din was on the same page as you, but it was still terrifying to consider saying it out loud. “You deserve this and more, honey.”

“Have I told you how much I enjoy hearing you call me honey?” Din leaned back in and began to pepper kisses across your lower face.

“It’s come up a time or two.” You teased in response. He ghosted up your jawline, his breath hot on your skin, until they wrapped around your earlobe⏤ teeth nipping at it lightly. You couldn’t hold back a soft moan. “Maker, Din.” You felt his chuckle as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. Din carefully tilted your chin up and to the side so he could finish his line of kiss down your neck. “Keep this up and I’m… I’m not gonna want to get up, and I have dessert in the fridge for us.”

Din shook his head and dragged his nose up against the column of your neck to find your ear once more, “I have dessert right here, ner kar’ta.” His words, in that deep, honeyed voice, sent shivers down your spine. Want pooled in your belly as you melted into his hands. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You murmured. Din pulled away from you and you groaned at the loss. “Wait, no,” Din laughed at your whine and the sound was distant, “Come back.”

“Be patient!”

You heard his approach and felt him as he settled in front of you again. Din was wrapping something around your eyes and tied it behind your head. “That feel, alright?” You nodded in response and adjusted the blindfold to sit comfortably on your face. “Just want you to relax and not worry about accidentally opening your eyes or not. This okay?”

“Only if you start touching me again.” You grinned and tilted your chin up a hair.

“Oh, mesh’la,” Din was quick to cup your face once more and he pushed you back to settle on the blanket softly, “I’m more than happy to.” You had never been happier in your choice of clothing than now with Din unbuttoning the front of your dress. One large hand cupped your breast while the other stayed wrapped around the back of your neck. Din let out a breathless whisper of Mando’a before adding in Basic, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, “I swear to the Maker if you stop I’ll kick your ass.” Din chuckled and shifted so he could rest between your thighs. You accommodated him by letting your legs fall open to rest on either side of his hips. “I know how to do that now since you taught me.”

“Teaching you how to get out of two holds is a little different from kicking ass.” Din replied amused. His hand left your breast and you felt the tips of his fingers brush against the scar along your collarbone. You stiffened slightly⏤ more out of self consciousness rather than discomfort or fear. Din leaned down until his lips pressed against the skin there. “Do you know how beautiful you are, ner kar’ta? Absolutely gorgeous.” You buried your hand in his soft hair, letting out a sigh, and Din kissed your scar twice more before letting his lips taste the skin of your chest. “Breathtaking.”

His mouth found the curve of upper breast. Din was careful as he pulled your bra down and when the cold air met your now bare nipples you gasped. More breathless Mando’a filled the air and only ended when Din’s lips wrapped around your right nipple as his hand held the underside of your other so his thumb could trace lazy circles around that nipple. Din’s tongue circled your sensitive skin and you groaned⏤ hand tightening in his hair.

The Mandalorian was new to using his mouth, but just like with kissing he was quick to pick it up and passionate about exploring with his tongue. All of his movements were focused and completed with the discipline of a bounty hunter. Even in a situation that was new to him, he used his body with confidence by dedicating to the action. Din’s mouth spent ample time tasting the skin of both your breasts, sucking and licking, and your entire being felt like it was on fire. Every inch of you craved his touch, you were drunk on him and were left a squirming mess under his strong hands. Pinned to the ground under his broad body and blind to everything but the sound, feel, and smell of him.

“Maker.” You gasped and tugged on his hair. “You’re killing me, honey. It’s…” He let his teeth lightly graze your overly sensitive nipple and your back arched in an attempt to follow his mouth as he pulled up. “Fuck. It’s so much. Too much.”

Din squeezed the breast his mouth wasn’t on and then crawled up just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “Sorry.” He hummed and you could hear the smile he was wearing. “Just can’t help myself.” Suddenly, you felt Din’s hand brush against the outside of your leg. It trailed back and forth from your knee to where the edge of your dress laid. You were already an absolute mess but having his warm touch against your thigh was making the need for him a hundred times worse. “Can I taste you, ner mesh’la kar’ta?”

You sucked in a sharp breath nervously. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip briefly. It had been a little while since you had anyone go down on you, and with the way you felt about Din you wanted things to be perfect. The thought of Din not enjoying himself or just feeling obligated haunted your mind and the anxiety dulled the pleasure. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? It’s not⏤”

“Have to?” Din’s fingers squeezed into the meat of your thigh and your hips involuntarily rolled up marginally to find a source of friction to ease the ache in your core. “There is literally nothing I could want more. I cannot even begin to describe how often I’ve thought of this moment right here.” You gave a small, weak nod. He squeezed your thigh once more. “Wanna hear you say it, ner kar’ta.”

“Yes, Din. Want that⏤ want you now.” Your desire beat out any anxiety you may have felt.

Din crawled down until he could press a kiss to the inside of your knee. His strong arm wrapped around your thigh, settling on his left shoulder, and you found comfort in that hold. You let out a relaxed breath. Din was safe. There was no reason to feel any anxiety in the arms of this man. With that, the anxiety began to ebb away and with every kiss Din laid on the inside of your thigh gradually traveling up the ache worsened.

The edge of your dress was pushed up with his left hand and it splayed across your abdomen. “This is my first time doing this with my mouth, mesh’la. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” Goosebumps formed across your skin at the cool air that now washed over you, but the weight of his hand seemed to burn straight through you. Din’s mouth pressed against your clothed heat. He kissed through your sinfully soaked underwear.

“Din,” You gasped, your hand refinding his hair, “Fuck. Din.”

His right hand slipped under the side of your underwear to tug them down your thigh. Din kept your right leg on his left shoulder, unmoving, and he hummed, “Knee to your chest, mesh’la.” You did as he asked and he used the movement to slip your left leg out of your underwear. The second you were uncovered, Din groaned, “Good girl.”

He buried his face into your wet folds in desperation. What Din lacked in precision he made up for with eagerness. He mumbled words of Mando’a straight into your pussy between licking long stripes through your lips. Din worked in broad strokes of his tongue, and every few seconds his nose would find your clit. It’d either brush too lightly for you to fully enjoy or press firmly against it and send jolting strikes of pleasure straight up your spine.

“Din, Din.” You moaned and he pressed in deeper, his tongue circling your hole. He hadn’t come up for air in a bit and you wondered how he managed to keep this up. Regardless, it was driving you wild. “Baby, please.” Din lifted his head and the sound of him panting was unbelievably attractive to you. “Shit, Din.”

“You alright?”

“Yes. Maker, yes, but…” You groaned. “I know you’re probably not meaning to do this, but you’re teasing me and it’s got me right on the edge.” Din shifted, you heard him chuckle, and before you could try to explain to him what you meant specifically when it came to his mouth, his thumb dragged through your folds up and straight to your clit. He circled it with insane precision and your mouth fell open in a silent cry as the arousal pooling in your lower belly grew and the ache almost sent you over the edge. “Maker! Din!”

Din pulled his thumb away and you were breathless. He placed a chaste kiss to your thigh where he could reach, “I’m not that unfamiliar with it, ner kar’ta. I told you I've used my hands.”

“Gotcha. So you were teasing me on purpose?” You scoffed and Din chuckled. You tugged on his hair and his breathy laugh grew louder. You grinned and shook your head. “You ass.”

“How about I make it up to you?” Din’s lips were back on you and this time he wasn’t just broadly tasting you. His precision had turned deadly and it was devastating how fast he drove you right back to that edge. “Taste so fucking sweet, mesh’la.” His tongue circled your clit before he began to apply enough suction that stars filled your vision. Your body began to tense as you spiraled into your quickly approaching orgasm. Din hummed and spoke against your clit, teeth and tongue brushing against it as the vibrations of his words buzzed against you, “Gonna come, ner kar’ta? Fall apart for me. Let me devour you.”

His lips wrapped around your clit again and the onslaught of his mouth had your orgasm washing over you. You let out a loud cry, his name garbled on your tongue, and as you came down from your high it felt like you were falling into a soft cloud. It was only then that you realized Din hadn’t stopped for a second. The slurping sound of him devouring you was downright filthy and you moaned again.

“Just like I said before, ner kar’ta.” Din dragged his wet lips up to kiss your abdomen in any random spot he could reach. “Could spend eternity between these gorgeous legs.”

You sat up on one elbow and blindly reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. “My turn, honey.” You gave his shirt a few tugs. “Want to taste you too.”

“Who said I was done here?” Din teased. He crawled up your body, still between your legs, and his hips pressed against yours firmly. You felt his hard cock straining against his sweatpants and he let it grind against your messy pussy. You reached down for the waistband of his sweatpants and Din’s hand rested by your neck to hold himself up while his other caressed the column of your neck and along your jaw. “I’m not done eating dessert.”

Your lips curled into a broad smile as you recognized the similar position you were in to what had been going on earlier today. Quickly, your right hand grabbed his left, the one holding him up, and before you could second guess yourself you let your legs kick up just like in the courting session until you were able to push him off you into an arm bar. This was the exact position he had been in last time, but this time you were unable to see him. Still, you felt your legs across his chest as you held his arm between your thighs.

For a beat it was silent, and you were worried you had upset him in some way, but then he began to laugh. Without the modulator of his helmet, the sound was clear and downright musical. You’d trade your soul if it meant getting to see the way his face looked right now. You wanted to see his smile, wanted to see the lines that formed on his face when he laughed like this.

“Maker, you’re so perfect, ner kar’ta.” Din breathed as his free hand came up to caress your legs. “I can’t begin to… You’re… I…” He let out one more laugh. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

“What does that mean?” You didn’t recognize those words.

“I’ll tell you one day. I promise.”

You chuckled, “Bold of you to deny someone who has you in an arm bar right now, honey.”

The hand you were holding between your legs suddenly tightened around your wrist and he pulled you toward him while pushing your legs off of him. With a yelp of surprise, he had you flipped so your arms and head were laying on his chest while your legs were sprawled out behind you. Din grasped the side of your face to pull you to his lips. His hand raked through your hair lovingly, and you sighed against his kiss. Din swallowed the sound of your content.

You felt so warm and comfortable against Din, and as if you hadn’t been aware of it before, it was startling how much you loved Din Djarin.

mando'a translations:

ner kar'ta: my heart Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I will know you forever Wayii: Good grief Gar're bid mesh'la: You're so beautiful mesh'la: beautiful

taglist (closed):

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #a fresh start #din djarin #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #star wars #din djarin smut

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arcielee · 1 year

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Taste of It

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a delightful sex dream. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 2406 Warnings: Smutty smut, fingering, choking, language, p in v. Author's Note: Hey, this is my first Reader fanfic I have ever written. I am open to all criticism, because it will help me be a better writer and is definitely not a degradation kink. This was inspired by the story you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me) by @themotherofhorses. I just loved the idea of a lucid dream with Aemond Targaryen. ♥ Thank you @f4ll-for-you for being so kind to read this over! Series: Call It Dreaming

“What are you doing here?”

His voice is low, lethal, and somehow familiar to you, despite the unfamiliar setting you find yourself in. Your hands wash over your body, feeling your favorite oversized shirt, an old David Bowie print that was comfortable with age and just long enough to cover your ass, with the hem touching the peaks of your bare thighs. There is a coldness to your surroundings, which was all the more apparent on your bare feet and the skimpy, cotton underwear you wore beneath your nightshirt.

You remembered being cozy on your couch after a long, hot shower that peeled away the stress accumulated from both work and schoolwork, partnered with a mask to exfoliate your pores. You remembered the scent of your new lotion, a mixture of vanilla and brown sugar, while you admired the reflection of the black underwear and matching bralette on your figure before you decided to put on the oversized vintage top before you crawled beneath your blanket to rewatch House of the Dragon.

“I asked you a question,” his voice repeated, his tone sharp. You could hear the sound of a book snapping shut that caused you to jump and turn on your heel. Your eyes flit over your new surroundings; you were in a room with tapers lit that added to the warm, amber glow emitting from the hearth and its embers, highlighting the meticulous placement of furniture and its grim vibe.

You nearly choke on your heart when your eyes finally find who the voice, the one that was both low and lethal, belongs to.

Aemond Targaryen was seated in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand holding a closed book by its spine and his brows knitted above his gaze, one lavender eye and one sapphire eye, focused on you with a look of sheer annoyance.

You could scarcely react when he pushed himself from his seat, his long legs allowing long strides to cover the distance of the room, and you could feel the heat from his body as he pinned your back against the door. His large palm was on your neck and he slowly squeezed the sides.

You can still breathe, but your vision begins to fog and he pushes closer, his nose pressed against the side of your head with the hot whisper repeating his question, “Who are you?”

This is a dream, your mind rationalizes. A sexy dream you guess from the heat that pools in your lower abdomen and melds with the heat that exudes from the prince. His scent is intoxicating; he smelled clean, mixed with a woodsy musk and the hint of smoke. It was a dream, you decide, and gods be damned if you would not utilize this subconscious interaction.

“I have been sent for your pleasure,” you finally manage to say, your mind spinning from the lack of blood.

Your words release his grasp, but his hand remains rested on your collarbones. “Another one of my brother’s whores?” He asks with the curl of his lips. Perhaps he tried to sound annoyed, but you hoped instead for him to be intrigued since your modern garb was hardly the fashion of the Streets of Silk. “You may show me what you have to offer and I will make my decision.”

This is promising, you smile at him. Aemond takes a step back but you note he remains within arm’s reach, thinking you may try to flee but he is completely unaware you have no intention to leave this room. With slow breaths as your vision clears, your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it overhead, dropping it at your feet to show him your black cotton bralette and matching cheeky underwear.

You watch his eye roll over you, pupil dilated, from your head to your polished toes and back again. You hold your breath and only relax when you hear his hum of satisfaction.

Aemond moved to grab you, perhaps he meant to drag you, but you are quick and willing to follow his direction towards the bed, gleeful when you feel his large hands rest on your hips and bring you around to push you back against the mattress.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him bending at his slender waist, his arms caging you and the curtain of silver hair spilling on both sides. His head tilts slightly to peer at you and you stare back with blatant admiration of the sharp angles of his jawline, the gleam of his sapphire eye that you did not notice the dagger he held until the glint of the blade caught your attention.

Your breath holds as he presses the dagger flat beneath the front of your bralette and it hitches in your throat with his fluid motion to twist the blade and bring it upwards, tearing the fabric.

“Hey!” You gasp, pressing up to your elbows to face him as he falls back a step, holding the torn fabric in one hand and sheathing his blade, all while admiring the natural slope of your breasts. You feel a slight burn and look down to see a red line and beads of blood forming from the sliver.

“I only wished to see if you were real,” his words were not an apology, but more an explanation.

You push to sit upright, your hand grabbing his own to bring his palm to your breast. “I assure, I am very real,” your eyes are glassy with your bold words and actions, but it works and he moves to press on top of you. You fall back and mold against the mattress, his tongue burns as it trails the cut and there is the smear of blood as his mouth moves to find your nipple.

Your back arches in response from the touch of his tongue that flits over the peak of your nipple and rolling circles around your areola. His hot mouth closes, suckling and his teeth nipping the soft flesh of your breast before he moves to give equal attention towards the other.

A soft moan spills from your lips and he moves to capture your mouth with his own. His tongue presses to explore your mouth and you welcome the softness of his lips and the copper taste of your own blood. Your hands move to comb your fingers through his silk locks, your nails scratching his scalp and you feel the vibration of his hum of approval.

Aemond presses closer and you can feel his hardness, his hips rolling to rub against your cloth cunt. He grabs onto your hip with one hand, large and warm to the touch, and his other moves flat against your chest; his tongue slows with languid movements, relishing your taste before he breaks away.

“You taste like a sweet wine, but with chocolate and mint?” His brow quirks with his question.

Ben and Jerry’s, you think to yourself but he does not need an answer, instead bringing his lips to bruise against your own and his fingers trailing lower to cup your cunt. He seems pleased with how you are drenched with your anticipation, pressing his lips against your throat with the growl of, “Sīr lōz syt aōha dārilaros.”

So wet for your prince.

You burn with how his tongue rolls the words. Gods be praised, you think when you recognize the words that made your core ache, your annoyance for the Duolingo notifications vanish and you respond with a breathless, “Kirimvose, ñuha dārilaros.”

His brow raises in response and his look makes your heat roll over your body. “You also know High Valyrian,” he says and, again, it was more a statement than a question.

“Mērī mirrī,” Only a little, you admit to him, the heat flushing your face from his brazen stare. You chew your bottom lip as you bring your feet to the edge of the bed and lift your hips, peeling off your underwear.

You note the curl of his lips and he moves to mold against you again, his teeth grazing the pulse of your pounding heart. His touch is gentle, his fingers just grazing your hip bone and moving towards your center, his slender finger trailing your soaked slit before it curled inside of you.

You cannot help but mewl his name as he adds another, moving to massage your walls, his palm cupping you and allowing his thumb to stimulate your clit. The warmth in your lower core begins to boil with his ministrations and your breathing grows erratic, which quickens his motion.

“Jurnegon nyke,” he commands, Look at me, and you bring your eyes forward to see him leaning over and bracing himself above you with his free arm. “I want to hear you,” he breathes.

His breath, his words partnered with the sinful curl of his fingers within you allows your orgasm to crash into you, drawing the air from your lungs with your pitiful cries of release. Your skin is aflame and you had not noticed he pulled away until you heard him cleaning his fingers with his mouth, standing over you, the bulge of his breeches unmistakable.

The sight of him cleaning his slender fingers emboldens you to grab his waistband and bring him against you, desperate to taste yourself on his soft lips. The grace of your tongue is not matched with your hands that fumble with the latches of his tunic, but you feel his smile as his hands guide your own. You peel his layers off to reveal his hard chest with faded scars of silver that decorated the rivets of his toned abdomen, the moonlight mixed with the low flames giving the prince an ethereal glow to his lithe body.

Aemond gives a hum to claim your attention, his lips curling as he is adamantly aware of the hunger in your eyes, and his hands reach to grasp the peaks of your thighs and pull you closer to the bed edge. You push yourself to your elbows and watch rapt as he unlaces to remove his trousers, curious to see if the Tumblr assertion of his genitalia was accurate, but his hand pushes you back against the bed and trails to your neck.

“Open,” he commands and your mouth relaxes, your tongue pink and drowning in saliva from seeing him almost bare.

He presses two fingers into your mouth and you close to suckle, tasting the remnants of your release and his own saliva from his clean up. You coat them and there is a string of spittle that follows when he pulls away, eventually breaking and wetting your chin.

His hands move to lube his cock and you feel the press against your cunt, the undeniable stretch as he pushes into you. Your hands grasp at the bedding on each side and your back arches as he pushes to split you in half. “You take me so well,” he soothes, but does not allow you time to adjust and presses further still.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck me,” you gasp at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

Aemond pauses for a moment, reaching to clasp your jaw and bring your eyes to look at him, “I intend to.”

You shudder when he bottoms out in you and his hands move to clasp onto your hips, pulling you to meet his each thrust, his hip bones digging into the underside softness of your thighs and his cock reaching into you further still. Your hands move to grab above you, twisting into the sheets, and you arch your back into each powerful thrust.

His pace pauses for a moment, his hands wrapping around your ankles and bringing your feet to rest onto his shoulders, canting your hips to angle you as he slips back into your warmth. Your heart flutters when his hands return to your hip bones, admiring his side profile and the scrunch of his brow. “Your toes… is that glitter?”

“Kostilus, ñuha dārilaros,” Please, my prince, you cannot help but whine. You are on the cusp of your second release and the fear of waking up looms over you. “I must have you.”

The High Valyrian renews his attention, as you hope it would, and he pushes to fold you in half, the new angle allowing him to slip into your cunt deeper than before. His arms hold himself on each side, caging you in, and his soft, silver tresses spill onto your bare chest with a tickle. You moan in abandon from the stretch of him reentering you as his hips rut against you.

It rolls in waves, gooseflesh rippling over every inch of your body and your nipples taut from the pleasure, clenching at his cock. The tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you repeat his name, “Aemond, Aemond-”

His thrusts become sloppy and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you; you open your legs to allow him to fall forward against you, a damp brow to your own. You steady your breath, savoring the mixture of his scent combined with the scent of sex, wanting to savor your unconscious a moment longer. Your sex dreams never ended so satisfactory before and you knew it would not be much longer. You bring your hand to his defined jawline to tilt his head up, bringing your lips to his with a slow, lingering kiss.

But you do not wake up, instead Aemond drags you beneath the covers and pulls you flush against his chest, which is hard and warm and molds perfectly with the softness of your backside in the most delicious way.

“You may leave me in the morning,” he murmurs in your ear as he nuzzles into the back of your neck and hair.

When you wake up, you are back on your couch and nestled beneath your blanket, the menu music of House of the Dragon playing on repeat from your television. Warmth envelopes you as you remember the vivid dream you had and you push to sit upright.

I will always fall asleep with you on, but your thoughts are cut short from the cold that touches your bare chest. Your hands wash over your body, naked, and you wince when your finger touches the gash in between your breasts.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

Where the fuck was your Bowie shirt.

#taste of it #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #thanks for reading #♥

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

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Title: Infestation.

Written for a lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Gyutaro x Reader (Demon Slayer).

Word Count: 3.5k.

TW: Modern AU, Implied Non//Con, Long-Term Stalking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Voyueristic Themes, Blood/Bruising, and Mentions of Cannibalism.

You only got to tour the apartment once before you signed the lease.

A ‘realtor’ with piercing eyes and silver hair met you at the door twenty minutes late with a heavy ring of keys in one hand and a disposable cup from an upscale coffee-chain in the other, muttering something about traffic as she let you into the dank, dark space. She explained, as she shoved open creaking doors and tried her best to clear the dust off neglected furniture, that her uncle owned the building, that she and her brother had stayed here for a while before she found another place on the other side of town. You asked if her family was close-nit, and she looked away, mumbling ‘something like that’ under her breath. You asked if she did this kind of thing for her uncle often, and she gave you a strange look and didn’t answer. You didn’t have the courage to press the topic. She had the kind of presence that made you want to shrink into yourself, to agree with everything she said and do anything and everything you could not to get on her nerves. If, at any point, she’d put a contract in front of you and told you to sign on the dotted line, you probably would’ve done it. If the apartment hadn’t been in the state it was, you probably would’ve asked her for it yourself, just to try and get on her good side.

The space itself was, somehow, even worse than the listing had made it out to be. The lights flickered, the walls were water-stained, and you couldn’t fully open the fridge door without lodging the handle against the cabinets on the opposite side of the kitchen. If you hadn’t been so desperate, you might’ve walked out in the first fifteen minutes, but you were, so you held your tongue and nodded along and let her sit you down in front of a manilla folder, already plotting out how you’d politely refuse and thank her for her time and beg the owner of the studio a few blocks north to give you another chance. That was what you thought you were going to do, at least, until you saw the rent.

“That’s… not what it was on the listing,” you muttered.

“That’s the rate. Take it or leave it.”

“Without utilities?”

“With. But you’re on your own if you want cable.”

“When would I be able to move in?”

“If you can get me out of here in an hour or less, whenever the hell you want.”

You signed everything she put in front of you, barely bothering to pretend to read the countless forms. She left you the keys, apologized for how loud the other tenants could be (something that must’ve changed since she moved out, you guessed – the entire floor was dead quiet), and in two days, your former roommates had sent you off with a tearful goodbye and, for the first time in longer than you could remember, you finally had room to breathe. A musky, beige room that you were pretty sure you’d have to have fumed sooner or later, but still – room to breathe.

And you were thankful for it. At first, at least, you were thankful for it.

And then, three months in, things started to go missing.

Which wasn’t that bad, on its own. You’d lost things before, and you weren’t the kind of person who’d break out the salt and thyme the first time one of your socks went missing, or you couldn’t find a pen you just seen a few days ago, or a mug you could’ve sworn you’d left on your bedside table the night before somehow made its way to your kitchen counter by the next morning, its contents drained but its clay handle still warm. You took it in stride. You laughed and smiled as you told your friends about the soft creaking you would sometimes hear coming from just behind drywall, the creepy stains on the bathroom floor that just barely look like dried blood when you squint, and you ignored what you couldn’t brush off so easily, kept the hours you spent lying awake at night because you just can’t shake the feeling of unblinking eyes prying into your flesh, the bruises and cuts you’ve decided to blame on thin mattresses and sharp corners to yourself.

You didn’t tell anyone when your missing things started reappearing, either.

Not that you really could. You didn’t know how you’d start to explain the cold feeling of dread that knotted in your chest as you lingered in the doorway to your bedroom, how to laugh as you told someone, anyone about the tattered remains of a shirt you hadn’t seen in weeks that were currently spread across your bed – all ripped to shreds and stained with the same chalky, white substance you couldn’t bring yourself to give a name to. It was all you could do to stare at the mess from a distance, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to ignore the bitter taste rising up from the back of your throat. Your closest neighbor was two floors down, and you’d only spoken a handful of words to the building’s other occupants as a whole, but still, half-formed fears of faceless stalkers and angered spirits gnawed at the back of your mind. It was probably--

Mice, you decided. It was probably mice. You didn’t know what an infestation looked like, never had to deal with one before, but for what you were paying for a place like this, there were bound to be mice. That’s all it could’ve been. Cute, harmless mice.

Still, you never found it in yourself to tell anyone about your little infestation.

And then, seven months in, the realtor let herself into your apartment.

It was a small miracle that you’d been awake at the time, that you were buried in a small mountain’s worth of blankets on your worn-out couch, reading some mindless contemporary romance when you heard the lock click, when you saw the same young woman who’d shown you around that first day step over the threshold – her expression one of mild annoyance and more than a trace of exasperation. She didn’t seem to notice you, not at first, not until you cleared your throat, sitting up in a half-hearted effort to make yourself more presentable. You tried to think of something to say, to ask if there was an emergency, but instead, made that much meeker and that much smaller by her aura alone, you just found yourself mumbling, “Can I help you?”

Her eyes widened as she shot to face you, her shock apparent. “You’re still here?”

“…yes?” Were you not supposed to be? You weren’t sure how long your lease was supposed to last, hadn’t talked to the landlord beyond a single, minute-long call when you first signed on. You’d been paying your rent, but still, there might’ve been a notice that you missed, a clause that’d slipped your mind. You didn’t know why the landlord would choose to address that by asking his niece to barge into your apartment in the middle of the night, but the panic remained. “Is something wrong?”

Her lips quirked, something coming across her features that you weren’t able to read in the dim light. “You’ve been away, though, right? On vacation? Staying at a friend’s house?”

“No, I… Was I supposed to be?” You pushed yourself to your feet. “Is there something wrong with the building?”

“The building’s not the fucking problem,” she snapped. You recoiled, but she didn’t seem to care, just letting out an irritated groan as she went on. “He knows he’s not supposed to take this long. Muzan’s going to be—” She cut herself off, throwing her head back and rubbing her temples. She clenched her eyes shut, and only when she opened them again did she seem to notice your discomfort, your muted distress. Just as quickly as she lost her composure, she regained it, her sneer softening into a small smile and her posture straightening until she looked not like a woman who’d walked into someone else’s apartment with no warning or explanation, but a passing acquaintance you’d been the one to approach and who was simply too polite to tell you that she had better places to be. “My apologies for the disturbance. I’ll make sure to call ahead, next time.”

She waited for you to nod, to pretend you knew what she was talking about before starting back toward the door, leaving just as suddenly as she’d come. Without giving yourself time to think, you rushed after her, leaning against the doorframe. You couldn’t imagine how she’d gotten here. The lights hadn’t worked since the day you moved in, and the hallway was as pitch-black and as endless as it’d ever been. “Wait!” She glanced over her shoulder, her smile already strained. You drew back, but forced yourself to go on. “It’s not a big deal, but I think this building might have a rat problem.”

She took a moment to respond.

Finally, as her grin broadened, she said, “There aren’t any rats.”

That night, you woke up screaming, covered in your own blood, and missing a piece of your thigh.

And then, a year after you first set foot in that godforsaken apartment, you met him.

‘Met’ might’ve been the wrong word. It implied something soft, something cute, something harmless – like mice or ghost stories or miscommunications. From the moment you snapped awake, a searing pain in your shoulder and hot blood already drenching your chest, he was all aggression, all bared teeth and dark eyes and gore-soaked lips curling back into a smile just as sickening as that of the woman who had to be his sister, if only because you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that your misery extended beyond the reach of their fucked-up family.

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe this was happening at all, but if you had to, you were going to tell yourself you had someone, other than yourself, to blame.

He was on top of you, straddling your waist, one hand planted next to your head and the other curled loosely around your throat, his palm pressing the delicate junction between your windpipe and diaphragm, making it difficult to manage anything but quick, shallow breaths. He’d never been this close before. You’d seen him out of the corner of your eye, occasionally – little, half-remembered blurs in the darkness; distorted splotches you’d tried to write off as depressions in the drywall or a trick of your own paranoia-ridden mind – but never like this, never close enough to see the muddled whites of his eyes, the pale grey tenor of his skin, the sharpened points of his teeth where your blood didn’t quite blot them out. On instinct, you tried to sit up, to bolt from underneath him, but he only had to flex his hand where it was wrapped around your neck and you were frozen, not willing to test his patience or your own perseverance. You didn’t know if he was strong enough to snap your neck, but he’d already proven that he could tear you apart. If he hadn’t already decided he was going to eat you alive, you’d rather not do anything to put the idea in his head.

You did what you could to go limp, to seem as small and unimposing as possible, and yet, he still let out a breathy chuckle as he shoved you downward – until your back was flat against the mattress and he was allowed to hover as far above you as possible, casting himself as something endlessly strong and impossible to grasp and impossible to escape as anything else that lurked in the dark.

“Easy, now. Wouldn’t want to get yourself hurt, would ya?” His voice was as terrible as the rest of him, raspy and barely audible yet dripping with corrosive, acidic arrogance at the same time. “It’d be a shame if you made be bruise that pretty skin. Loses some of its flavor if you beat it up too much.”

So he was going to eat you. You couldn’t pretend to be surprised, couldn’t say a nightmare featuring fanged monsters with hungry mouths hadn’t accompanied every new missing chunk of flesh and discolored bitemark, but your breath still hitched in your throat, your body going tense beneath him. Your distress was muted, but not subtle enough to escape his prying eyes. His grin widened, the corners of his lips cracking and splitting open. “You scared, little mouse?”

You hesitated, thinking for a moment before nodding. There was a bark of a laugh, a row of blunt nails burrowed into the space just below your jugular. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?” He asked, arching his back and leaning toward you, coming close enough for the tips of his messy hair to brush against your skin. “Tear you apart? Gut you and keep your hollowed-out husk as a trophy?”

There wasn’t a delay, this time. It was all you could do to wait until he’d finished to spit out the one thing you couldn’t seem to get off your mind. “Eat me.”

There was a long pause, agonizing and infinite.

Then, something sparked behind his eyes, and his smile took on a sickening lilt.

You could practically hear your heart beating out of your check, feel something deep in your chest twist and writhe as he dipped even lower; his face soon buried in the small of your neck. His hand fell away, drifting lower – his fingertips skirting over your side, groping softly at your hip before drifting to your wrist, to your hand. There was a clumsy attempt made to intertwine his fingers with yours, not helped by your own unchallenged immobility, but eventually, he managed to take your hand in his own. His skin was cold to the touch, and yet, you still felt like you were burning wherever his body pressed against yours. “No, no, I’m not gonna do anything to hurt ya. Not that badly, at least.” His voice lightened, his drawl softening around the edges. Like he was trying to calm you down. Like he thought anything he said could possibly calm you down. “I don’t have the stomach to binge like that. The last guy Daki dragged in wasn’t like you. All muscle, no flavor, had to choke down every bite. I would’ve swallowed you whole as soon as you as walked through that door just to get the taste out of my mouth, but you looked so damn cute, all oblivious and shit – I just didn’t have the heart to.”

He straightened his back, but didn’t pull away. Rather, he stayed as close to you as possible, his scarred lips brushing against your neck, then your shoulder, finally settling on your collarbone. He couldn’t be human. You didn’t decide that, you knew it. Nothing human or mortal or natural would have so many scars, or be so pale, or have teeth so sharp – even the gentlest touches violent enough to break the skin. Not that he tried very hard to be gentle. There was the faint feeling of rough lips ghosting over your skin, and then a sharp, sudden piercing sensation; flesh and muscle splitting apart underneath the first hint of pressure. “Not that I didn’t want to,” he muttered, his breath cold against your skin. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a decent fucking meal? If I had my sister’s self-restraint, I’d already be down to the bones.”

And yet, he didn’t stop himself from latching onto the shallow scrape, his tongue running over your skin as he let out a deep, guttural moan, the sound only slightly stifled by his proximity. You held your breath, clenching your eyes shut as he lapped up the thin trail of blood that flowed outward, over your chest. Visions of hearts torn from chests and pale hands digging through split-open stomachs flitted through your mind, but in the end, he only jerked back was a sharp laugh – more lively than it’d ever been before. There was a certain light to his eyes now, too, a new sense of rejuvenation you almost couldn’t bring yourself to recognize in the same creature who’d stalked you for months, who’d knocked on your walls and watched you at night and given you so many chances to run away, so many chances that you’d been too hopeful and too idiotic to take. You felt him shifting above you, heard your sheets rustle, and you braced yourself, going stiff in preparation for a pointed nail stabbed into your throat, or a skull-crushing blow to your head, or--

Or, for him, it, whatever he was, to kiss you.

You hadn’t known to expect it would be as brutal as it was. What little delicacy, what little gentleness he had was gone. For longer than seemed possible, your world was one of clashing teeth and probing hands and lips pushed against yours with enough force to bruise. You didn’t know whether or not he was trying to scare you, but the gesture was more violent than affectionate – messy and overwhelming and enough to have you on the edge of tears by the time he drew back, panting. He opened his mouth, but you were already talking, words spilling from your lips without reservation. Appeals to ‘please, don’t hurt me’ blurring with an incoherent blend of ‘don’t kill me’ and ‘I’ll do anything’ – anything you could think of, anything that might’ve gotten him to give you the space to breathe. Some of it made sense, most of it didn’t, and all of it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

If he was listening, if he cared, none of it earned anything more than a wry smile, a soft kiss to the top of your head. At that point, you were so desperate, so distressed, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into it – only whimpering as he hummed gently and drew you upward, until you were the one sitting in his lap, cradled in his arms. It occurred to you, not for the first time, how much bigger his frame was than yours, how small you felt in his arms. Like a bird with an injured wing, unable to fly and trapped in.

Like a mouse, your neck already snapped by the impartial hammer and your body caught in the maw of something much larger and much more dangerous than yourself.

“You’re shaking.” He was laughing, but you were. You couldn’t stop. Your body refused to listen to you, to push him away, to run, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from shivering – trembling violently enough for it to border on convulsions. “What’d I tell you the first time you freaked out, huh?”

That he liked the way you tasted. That he’d been watching you for months. That he’d thought about killing you and, if he got hungry enough, he’d probably think about it again.

You swallowed, willing the knot of dread at the back of your throat to loosen. “That you weren’t going to hurt me.”

“And you don’t think I’d lie to you, do ya?”

It would’ve been kinder if he did, if he pretended to be something remotely human. “I don’t.”

“Because I haven’t, and I’m not. That’d just be a waste, 'specially when I haven’t gotten half of what I want out of ya, yet.” You were dragged away from his chest, poised to face him. You were given a few seconds to stare up at him through the darkness, to try to begin to process what was happening, what he was doing, before a scarred palm was cupping your cheek, before he was kissing you, again – shallowly, fleetingly, before moving upward, pressing his lips against your forehead and dipping back toward your neck.

This time, he wasn’t content just to content just to hold your hand. You could feel his fingertips skirting over your thighs, leaving strips of numbness spreading across whatever he made contact with, making an attempt at delicacy before his attention drifted and his touch grew rougher, his hold bruising, his skin frigid where it pressed against yours. Against your better judgement, you leaned into your paralysis, not returning his bizarre affection, but making no effort to push him away, either. You tried to hold yourself straight, but not stiff, to keep your eyes open and your jaw locked into place, but even your neutrality was enough to encourage him, to spur him forward. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were being shoved downward once again, before you were being pinned against your own thin mattress with enough force for the jutting springs to dig into your back. Again, he was above you, and again, you were powerless beneath him, just as scared as you’d been when he was just a ghost of fear lurking in your peripheral.

“Don’t worry, little mouse.”

Just as helpless as you’d been when you couldn't see the threat at all.

“I’m takin’ care of you, now.”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere commission #commission writing #demon slayer #demon slayer imagine #yandere demon slayer #yandere gyutaro #gyutaro x you #yanderecore #yancore

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my-writings-and-musings · 1 year

Note

What if the reader ACTUALLY ended up getting pregnant by soundwave? 👀 How would the cassettes react to the fact that they're going to have a baby sibling soon? Feel free to write this 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

Wwwwwwweeeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllllll I might just have to give this a try anon, I definitely haven't been thinking about it since that last ask... (Or applying the same thought to other bots that you can totally ask me about at any time if any of you are so inclined)

I hope you all enjoy, and if you like my writing style you can always commission me!

All three of the minis still had their own unique expression of frozen shock when Frenzy finally went silent, leaving you to sit awkwardly across from them at the breakfast table. Soundwave knelt at your side, his demeanour tense but supportive as the quiet continued for several agonizing moments. It was Laserbeak that found his voice first, shaking his helm as if he was trying to process the information but simply couldn't. "How's that even possible?!"

"You're WHHHAAAAAATTTT?!"

Even without utilizing her sonic scream, Frenzy had the walls shaking for the entirety of her outburst, though such a reaction was more or less what you'd expected given the news you and Soundwave had just dropped.

"From the look of it, I'm due in seven months." you answered simply, unwilling to admit that was a guess at best. Based on your symptom you could reasonably estimate you were about two months in, but there was no way to know if this was going to proceed like a normal pregnancy, and it wasn't like you could swing by a doctor's office for answers. Soundwave settled his claws on your shoulder in a gesture of support.

"Known phenomenon. Scattered historical records." Soundwave answered for you, his explanation only somewhat shorter now than what he'd given you when everything had come to light. He'd also been able to translate and show you some of the texts describing the process, which included an explanation as to how Cybertronian gametes could "read" the genetic information of other species and interpret it to match their own anatomy, allowing for reproduction between vastly different beings. The little one within you now would be fully Cybertronian, but still related to you thanks to the wonders of alien biology. You wondered briefly what features of your own might be recognizable; your smile, the shape of your eyes, the proportions of your limbs...

"Well... When's the little one gonna get here?" Laserbeak continued as the others remained silent. Ravage was tense in his chair, optics narrow and audials pinned back in deep thought whilst Frenzy still found herself incapable of getting her jaw off the floor.

Giving the minis a date seemed to make the news that much more real, and the three exchanged looks, silently discussing their feelings on the matter with expressions alone. Too many emotions passed between them for you to identify even a fraction, but you caught a considerable amount of uncertainty from all three, which we to be expected. Frenzy finally spoke for the group, crossing her arms as if she was seated at a negotiating table as she tilted her helm for a pointed question. "Are we gonna have to share a room with them? It's already pretty crowded with the three of us."

"Search for more spacious dwelling; initiated." Soundwave replied quickly. The question was one the two of you had asked yourselves, and though searching presented its own dangers, you had concluded it would be far from ideal to have a growing family in this crowded bunker. In a mere month your mate had crossed hundreds of miles in his search, and the list of new potential homes grew each time he returned. Said information was relayed to the minis in a succinct summation of his activities. "Several possible locations located. Scouting to continue."

Hearing of a new home caught the interest of all three, an understandable reaction considering their limited space at present, and also seemed to turn some of their surprise to anticipation.

"Well, if we can get somewhere with a little more elbow room... I'm on board." Frenzy said as she returned to her more casual sitting posture, looking more open to the idea now that she had some time to process and could imagine the fun that might come if it. Seeing a smile pull on her lips gave you a great deal of comfort, and you felt your shoulder relax in Soundwave's grasp. The music loving femme tapped her chin as she pondered the possibilities. "Something beachside would be pretty tight."

Matching her energy, Laserbeak added his own two cents, equally excited at the prospect of moving from their cramped abode. "I could go for something up in the mountains, nice to have open air under the wings."

You prepared to reply with a list of the places Soundwave had scouted, but Frenzy scoffed at Laserbeak's suggestion before you could speak, returning to her old self with impressive speed. "Boring! How are we gonna have fun in the middle of the woods?"

"If the bitlet ends up flying, where else am I gonna show them the ropes?" he replied, holding up his wings like hands in his exasperation.

The comment took you pleasantly by surprise. Moments ago they'd been so shocked you couldn't really tell if they were at all on board with the new family member, but Laserbeak was already planning for including the little one, and Frenzy made it clear she was doing the same with her retort.

"How can I take them to rock concerts if there aren't any?" she asked in equal exasperation, making you smile at how she was also planning for their future sibling. You were confident now their initial reaction had been purely one of shock, and now that it had faded they were all proving more than amenable to the idea of a little brother or sister.

"They can fly there!" Laserbeak replied as the silly argument intensified, the two minis squabbling over the best places to live for the sake of their interests as well as their future sibling. Ravage remained removed from the entire discussion, but you found his posture far more relaxed, and when his gaze met your own for a second time he was far from displeased. The Felicon looked to you for a moment of consideration before giving a nod, his way of indicating that he too was fine with this most unexpected turn of events. You nodded back in appreciation. This little one may have been unplanned, but they would be anything but unloved.

"Arguments unhelpful." Soundwave sighed as the petty squabble grew lightly physical, juvenile slaps being traded by Frenzy and Laserbeak as they debated whose idea for a new location was "obviously" superior to the others. You chuckled lightly and gave his servo a pat, certain this chaos would hardly compare to what your little family would be dealing with in just a few short months.

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unyandere · 1 month

Text

Yandere jock x reader who is really into how to kill people with poison and therefore finds training the body useless

Tw: plants (the poisonous ones), mention of killing and murder, curses, yanderish behaviour (both me and you know that’s not the most triggering over here), bad English I guess, reader is… uh… like those little kids who love to tell people how they would be able to kill them in extreme detail for no reason whatsoever

At school you were more or less a loner, no friends, teachers always forgot your name, are your lunch alone,… Yeah, you spent most of your time at school inside the library, reading books about murders and poisons.

Poisonous plants and animals had always been one of your many passions and the librarian, knowing you as well as your mother had known you, always kept some new books about plants and animals for you.

One day as you were reading about the atropine contained inside many plants and its uses you caught the eye of one of the school’s top football players.

At first he came up to you, sat beside you and looked at you while you were reading.

He was hypnotised by your beauty, your elegant movements, your oh so cute shyness,… As he set his eyes on you he decided you two would have some fun together.

“Hey hun~ Wanna… ya know?” He said pointing at one of the doors that lead to a utility room.

You lifted your eyes from the book and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Getting inside a small room with someone you don’t really know just because of an high libido is one of the most common ways to get killed” you answered looking at him coldly

“And how would you kill me? You don’t look like someone with muscles~ You don’t really look like someone who could beat me up~” he said walking behind you and grabbing one of your arms.

“There are countless ways in which you could get killed without the use of muscles” you answered jerking your arm away.

He got closer to you, he sniffed your hair and touched your neck.

“Reeeally? And how would you kill me?” He said smiling at you, putting his hand under your chin and lifting your face up to him.

“Well I could poison you with berries by putting one berry in my mounts and slipping it into yours during a kiss, I could put some rhododendron leaves in my pocket and scratch your skin as you get close giving you some of the nastiest infections, I could put some hemlock in my hands, cup my hand above your nose, make you breath some hemlock and kill you slowly and painfully,… and these are just some examples of how I could, and would, kill you” you answered briefly.

The jock looked at you in the eyes, for a moment his smile disappeared and he stepped back a little.

But just as soon as you thought he’d finally leave you alone to read, his smile reappeared and he got as close as he was before.

“Well, couldn’t I kill you in just as many ways with my hands?” He whispered in your ear smiling at the thought of you under him asking for help.

“While the answer is yes, you would definitely get in prison for that because of the signs on me and everyone being able to testimony that you were with me at the time of my death making you the prime suspect, while I, killing your with poison, will not become the prime suspect because most poisons take time to start showing their signs and kill people so you would be able to meet more people before dying making them the prime suspect for your death instead of me” you explained crushing his dreams.

The jock smiled at you taking again a little step back.

“I… see” he mumbled trying to keep up his smile and think of something to answer you.

“But what if I… erm… didn’t care about going to jail?” He asked whispering, getting close to you again (to your dismay) and sniffing your beautiful hair thinking of you, scared, doing whatever he asked you.

“Well, you would be quite stupid! Getting to jail is no joke, you will have a much harder time finding a job after you get out of jail!” You answer apathetically.

“Then, why would you risk your carrier to kill me? Am I more important then your future?” He asked again smiling while touching you thinking of you giving up your whole life for him made him quite excited.

“No, I just know I wouldn’t get caught… I know what errors killers usually make, I just have to avoid those and I’ll be able to do whatever I want” you explained again.

You were starting to get on his nerves, if your cute face didn’t make up for it he would’ve already beaten you up.

“I see… And what if I force you to come with me, without killing you, and see me play a game just for you?” He said expecting some more scared response to that.

“I’d ask for a restraining order against you” you answered with a plain pretty apathetic voice.

“Yeah but what if-“ he was going to ask but you got up and walked out of the library leaving him alone.

#yandere x darling #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere #parody

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moonlit-imagines · 4 months

Text

Rekindled

Dick Grayson x Kyle!reader

warnings: guns/violence, death, brutality. like, the typical arkham game themes. not graphic, tho!! mostly mentions

a/n: this sorta takes place in the arkham knight storyline but you really dont have to know anything about that game to read this, i wanted to give enough detail bc i liked this idea and the arkham game fandom is under appreciated. also lowkey y/n is based on an oc but almost all my y/n’s are <3

prompt:

Gotham was on fire. You were dumb enough to stay behind. Selina had been MIA for longer than you were used to, and every effort of contact was futile. Last time this happened, she had been arrested and thrown into Arkham City, so it was needless to say that you were a bit worried.

Last thing she told you was that a “pretty worthless supervillain” needed her help with something, but she left it at that. Yeah, she had a habit of making herself scarce, but she was your only family and you two always kept in touch. And now that the evacuation was in effect, you felt even more uneasy.

You pulled on your suit, black leather and spandex hugging your body tighter as you zipped up. Pulled your gloves on, claws and all. Clicked the belt around your waist, equipping your small set of weapons and utilities. The headpiece was pretty simple, just some silly cat ears to match your aunt’s, along with the goggles for good measure.

Gotham was more dangerous than you’d ever seen, only delinquents like yourself roamed the streets. Except, they didn’t carry a code like you. Scarecrow caused a panic, this “Arkham Knight” had a personal vendetta to fill, the city was on its knees. Tanks were starting to load onto the islands, troops taking over buildings, and riots overwhelmed what little protection was left here. You knew a few places to go, but your best bet was the movie studios.

Panessa, Batman’s secret base with the Wayne name slapped right on the outside, it always made you smile when you saw it. You were hoping to find an ally inside, maybe someone who could help you find Aunt Selina.

And you may be thinking you’d just sneak inside like a lovely little cat burglar would, but why not try the front door. “Stray.” You spoke into the voice box and chuckled as the doors opened for you. “It’s like they were waiting for me to crawl on back.” You stepped inside and into the elevator and poked the down button, trusting the rickety old elevator to deliver you safely to the lower level.

When you stepped out, there was only one familiar face that wasn’t behind a pane of glass. Didn’t know Batman kept prisoners. “Y/N?” Robin asked from across the room, setting down his tablet to meet you halfway. “What the hell are you still doing in Gotham?”

“Selina’s missing and I didn’t want to leave without her. What’s…all this?” You motioned at the containment cells, starting to understand why there were prisoners when you noticed their Joker-esque features. The lot began to make trouble, beginning to harass and poke fun the same way that clown would.

“Ignore them. I’ll call Batman.” Tim told you. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. You already broke in.”

“Broke in?” You scoffed. “I used the door, actually. Still have my little voice thing activated. I just had to say my name and I walked in. Kind of rude to assume I just break in just because I happen to be a burglar from time to time.” You ranted and heard a chuckle from Robin just before Batman answered his call.

“He wants to talk to you.” Tim called you over, holding out his arm in an awkward way to you could talk to Bruce.

“Tell me everything, y/n.” Batman instructed.

“Hey, good to see you, too. Uhh, yeah, so Lina said she was hired by some loser supervillain to steal something they needed. That was basically all she told me before she left, been a few days. Can’t get ahold of her.” You explained, looking over at Tim and shrugging. “She considers most of the so-called ‘supervillains’ of Gotham ‘losers,’ though, so it doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“Okay. Stay at the movie studios. I’ll look into it.” Batman hung up just like that and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to leave either. This…” Robin motioned to the Joker lookalikes, “is what Joker left behind in his death. All that infected blood from Arkham City, it wasn’t all caught, and I have to find a cure.” Robin went back to his tablet and you sat on a nearby chair. “Catwoman tell you much about the City?”

“Only that it was a shithole and Two-Face is a loser.” You started scrolling through the computer before you, reading little lab notes here and there. “How’s Oracle?”

“She’s in the city, of course. Refused to evac, wanted to help, but no one expected anything less.” Robin noticed you snooping, but let you continue. “Nightwing’s okay, too.” Your eyes peeked to the side and your brows raised. “Well, not really. Ego’s bruised since Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy kicked his ass the other night.” You laughed out loud, quite amused by the news.

“Good, he probably needed it.” You leaned back in the chair. “You know, I could probably help out there.”

“I already tried, Batman said to stay here.” Tim sighed.

“I don’t work for Batman. Maybe I wanna go kick some ass and try to find my aunt.” You explained, only half-jokingly. If was only seconds after that projections of the Riddler showed up all over Gotham. “Oh, brother. Not this guy.” You groaned, watching Nygma go on about his plan until Catwoman appeared on screen, causing you to bolt up and out of your chair. You would have run for it now if not for his explicitly telling you to stay away.

“Oh, and Stray, dear? Keep away, please. This is for Batman and Batman only, and if you get too close I might just…oh, well, you know.” Riddler chuckled at the insinuation that he’d detonate the bomb around Selina’s neck. Robin looked to you, noticing you were completely flush as you watched the broadcast.

“Y/N, he’s won’t let Nygma do anything to her. Try to stay calm.” Tim tried to snap you out of it, which only caused you to transition from fear to rage, jumping up from the chair and pacing around to keep from hitting him.

“Just…shut up, T—Robin. Shut up.” Your claws were drawn and you were steadying your breathing before things got ugly for everyone. More taunts were thrown at you from the Joker-infected and you needed to get the hell out of here, so you headed for the elevator.

“Wait, hey! Y/N, you can’t go out there, it’s not safe.” Robin jogged up beside you, but you ignored him. “You can’t save her right now, Riddler is obsessed with besting Batman. You can’t interfere or it’s over.” You stepped into the elevator and just as you were about to press the button, “Dick is in the city.” You paused.

“Why do I care?” You rolled your eyes and watched Robin pull a wrist communicator from his belt.

“You care.” He handed you the comm. “You can call any of us with that. We have our locations on, too. Keep in touch.”

“Where is he?” You sheepishly asked, looking down at your boots. You knew Tim had a stupid, told-you-so smirk on his face.

“Near the docks, he’s working on something. He’ll probably need your help.” Your eyes sort of lit up when you heard that, but you quickly took yourself back to reality knowing Tim was just trying to make sure you weren’t alone out there. For Dick’s sake.

You were still considered apart pf the family, even if Selina and Bruce weren’t a thing at the moment and you and Dick had gone your separate ways. You still caught yourself thinking about Dick Grayson often, wondering what could have been, what you would have done differently, why you guys even chose to leave. Sometimes it made sense, sometimes you struggled not to pick up the phone.

But now you stood on the rooftop of Panessa Studios, looking out to a city in ruins. A city in need of saving. As much as you respected Bruce, there’s no way you believed he could do this all alone. And if he was going to save your aunt, maybe you should lend a helping hand in the meantime. You fiddled with the device on your wrist, trying to get the hang of the new model communicator until you found Nightwing’s contact programmed in. Clicking the button made your stomach drop, you froze up as the line rang.

This comm was given to you, but wasn’t updated in the system as yours, so Nightwing answered the message from Batcom #1 and was shocked to see your beautiful face waiting for his answer. “Y/N! Are you…are you still in Gotham?” Dick’s calling of your name was embarrassingly high-pitched, but he recovered it upon his question. “Please tell me you’re not here.”

“Dick, I’m wearing cat ears and my aunt is being held hostage at the moment, of course I’m here.” You sarcastically answered, just like he remembered. “Tim gave me this thing, said I could go help out if I wanted. Just have to stay away from Riddler stuff for the night.” You explained, showing the Panessa Studios sign in the background.

“Yeah?” You could see Dick’s smile, like he and Tim knew exactly how to plan and you just wouldn’t figure it out. But despite this cold, brutal night, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside when that smirk grew on his face, you knew he was happy to have this opportunity. “I kind of need a partner for what I’ve got going on, Penguin’s doing something shady down by the docks. Wanna join me?”

“I could get behind that.” He sensed a bit of flirtation in your voice. “Meet you there?”

“I’m already here, why don’t I meet you in the middle? It’s really bad out here…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, thinking he’d come on too strong.

“You’re worried about me?” You chuckled and he told himself his suspicions were true. “How sweet.” You began walking to the edge of the roof, beginning to plot your path to avoid any psychopaths that may try to murder or kidnap you. “It’s not that far, I’ll be fine.” You hung up on him and he took a deep breath. Seeing his ex, probably his first love, after a long, long hiatus, it probably freaked him out more that Gotham’s takeover right now.

You barely felt the nerves he did, you knew you had a certain power over him. Not that you’d like to use it, not like you used to. Getting away with petty little crimes with your charm until you finally gave him a chance, let him show you the other side of things. Betraying that trust would put you down the wrong path once again.

Dick waited patiently for you, staring at the rooftops you may travel across to try and spot you, completing ignoring the smoke and flames from below. Running into trouble up there wouldn’t be much of a problem, everyone was busy robbing stores and shooting each other on the ground. You’d heard about some freaky bodies strung up on rooftops, some more Riddler shenanigans hidden around the place. Honestly, it didn’t surprise you much. This was Gotham City, where anything could happen.

Soon you found yourself just a few more steps from your past. You and Nightwing, both masked, stood across from each other with only a gap between buildings between you. With a graceful leap, you swung above the road and landed right beside the vigilante, who was a bit too stunned to speak, but he was the famed Dick Grayson…he doesn’t stay quiet for long. “Nice landing.” His smooth voice made you smirk involuntarily.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” You rolled your whip up and clipped it back to your belt.

“Eh, you did…but I’m willing to forgive and forget.” He quipped in his nonchalant tone, same boy you’ve always known. “Bat bossing you around?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to stay at that run-down movie studio. I really wasn’t about it.” You sighed, looking down at the arms deal below. “But I guess you know the feeling a lot better than me. I never really listened to the guy, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” Nightwing chuckled, kneeling down by the ledge. “You’re my inspiration for breaking away. Always giving Bruce shit, not taking him seriously. He hated it.”

“Hated me?” You asked him, wide-eyed.

“Actually, I think it was the reason he liked you so much back then. Usually people see him as like, an authority figure.” Nightwing explained, still observing the Penguin goons below. “And the people who didn’t listen were usually still a little afraid of him. But you were just that ‘kid’ who never quite listened and didn’t quite care.” You chuckled at some old memories that came back to you with his words. Memories of awkward patrols and first encounters with Batman and the first Robin. You and him were so young back then. So young and so hopeless.

“So you’re saying he approved of me?” You teased with a taunting smirk and poked Nightwing in the arm, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes. “Oh, yeah, the big bad Batman approved of the poor little street cat.”

“Well, as close to approval as possible. He is still a hardass.” Nightwing realized in that moment how easy it was to fall into your old ways. No awkwardness, just two people who have a bond you can’t break with time. “So, uh, these guys down here.”

“Righttt, the Penguin guys. North Refrigeration, huh? Man, you’d think Oz wouldn’t be so predictable.” You remarked as a car sped past you on the street behind, shooting an automatic rifle into the sky, but you paid little mind to it. “Remember the Iceberg Lounge? He must really like the cold.”

“He’s definitely got a gimmick.”

“Don’t we all?” You pointed to the cat ears on your headpiece and you both burst into quiet chuckles. “Are we gonna go down there or what, Dickie?” Your nickname for him made his heart flutter.

“Bruce wanted me to wait, he’s got a plan.” Nightwing sighed. “I’m only listening now because of how insane it is tonight, but I wish he’d let us handle it ourselves. He needs a break.”

“I think we all do.” You crossed your legs on the concrete rooftop and wrapped your arms around them, looking past the illegal activities below and over at the city skyline across the water. “If we all make it out of here alive, I think it’s time I leave Gotham.” You stared in silence for a few moments, pretending not to realize Dick staring at your profile. “Wanna do my thing and not listen to Bruce?” You snapped out of it and raised your eyebrows in a playful way. “You can’t say no, it’s not in my nature to listen to big strong men.”

“You wanna go bother these guys down here? They’re just doing their jobs.” He joked, getting up to play your game.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.” You shrugged, nearing the edge of the roof. “Maybe I just wanna say ‘hi.’”

“Oh, well if that’s all you wanna do.” Nightwing stood beside you and you both took a quick leap from the building to the ground, startling the group of thugs and interrupting their very important work.

“Shit! Catwoman?” One of the thugs asked before getting punched in the gut by yourself.

“Hah, he deserved that! Rest of us know who you are, Ronnie’s just a dumbass.” Another thug assured you before Nightwing shocked him with an escrima stick. You both took turns knocking around these cronies until all of them were laid out across the ground, only ones left were hiding inside of the van beside you.

“That was fun.” Nightwing nudged you with his elbow as you walked side by side to the back of this van. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

“How about when we find their hideout?” You suggested, knocking on the van doors. They flung open and were shocked to see two vigilantes waiting for them, then desperately drove off just as you’d planned. Nightwing grabbed you by the waist, pulled you close, and used his grapple gun to bring you both back the the rooftops so you could easily follow the van without being spotted. It was a bit off-guard, being pulled in like that, but you didn’t mind at all.

After some time and a bit of flirty remarks here and there, you both made it to the Penguin’s hideout. “You sure you’re in? There’s a lot of people in there, we can still wait for Bruce.”

“Come on, Dickie. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” You tilted your head to have him come along with you and led him to an unconventional entrance. “It’s gonna be tons of fun, you’ll see.” You opened the rooftop vent and slid down first, crawling beneath the floor and estimating how many men you’d be going up against with your infrared goggles. Probably twenty or so, but you and Dick had trained together for a long time, it would all come back to you in an instant—you hoped.

The both of you popped out from the shadows and immediately started beating on these criminals, watching them all scramble to figure out how to react. “Told you, fun!” You called out to Dick, tossing a pair of bolas at a goon’s legs causing him to trip right into Nightwing’s roundhouse.

“Never doubted you for a moment!” Nightwing answered, pushing another thug your way so you could catch his arm with your whip, pulling his fist into his face. “Ouch! Why’d you do that, man?” Nightwing punched your victim once again. “Starting to think you like getting hurt.” The two of you continued throwing punches in sunch a calculated, synchronized way, catching a few as well. Once a thug managed to land a punch to your face, Nightwing was right to the rescue. “You okay?”

“Never better, baby.” You held your cheek and he worried you’d got a concussion for a moment before realizing you called everyone “baby.” Dazed, he also caught a punch to the back, knocking the final thug down with only his elbow. “That was it? That wasn’t even a challenge, that was a warm-up.” You told Dick, who was still kind of staring at you. “Hey, I told you I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled.

“It’s not that.” Dick chuckled. “It’s just, I’m thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What’d I say?” You kicked a guy’s arm away from your foot, wondering what Dick meant.

“About leaving Gotham…I’ve got an extra room at my place.” Dick shamelessly offered, but you could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“An extra room? Did you move apartments?” You raised a brow and saw his cheeks turn red under his mask.

“Uh, well…no.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I have extra room in my bed, though…if you’re down.” You stared at him, shocked and expressionless. Not many people could do that to you. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t expect anything out of you, but y/n, I want you in my life again.”

“…What?” You quietly answered him, still dumbfounded by the sudden proposal. You absolutely loved seeing him tonight, and you loved fighting beside him, and you loved him. It was like everything was coming back together.

“I left Gotham, I left everything behind. I left you behind. And I know that was both of our decisions, but if you’d just leave Gotham with me tonight, after all of this is over, I’d like to start over with you however you’d like.” Dick and you stood below these dim string lights in this criminal base surrounded by beaten foes, piles of money, and loads of firearms. A hell of a place for a romantic speech like this. “I just realized how much I was missing without you. And all the dangers of tonight, and you and I getting stuck here. I don’t want to be apart again, y/n.” He confessed to you.

You both quietly stood there a moment, not knowing what to do. You were still sweating from the fighting that had concluded a few minutes ago. Still breathing heavy with a fast heartbeat, but now for a new reason.

You said it yourself, you wanted to leave. Tonight solidified that decision. And Selina would understand. You were a Stray, you went where it was good for you, and maybe Blüdhaven would be good for you. It wasn’t on fire nearly as much, didn’t have as many supervillains, wouldn’t give you a target on your back.

And it had him.

And he was offering you everything.

And without another thought, you took a few paces forward into his arms and pulled his face in for a deep kiss, hands carefully cupping his cheeks as not to scratch them. Dick was surprised at first, but couldn’t resist what he’d been wanting since he left for Blüdhaven. He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly kissed you back, the passion was still there. Both of you felt it.

You pulled away slightly and gazed into his eyes, both smiling stupidly from the kiss. “Does this mean you’ll come with me? Please say it does.”

“Yeah, Dickie, I’ll come with.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #batman arkham games #batman arkham knight #batman arkham knight imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine

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fluorescentbalaclava · 26 days

Text

training season's over

Chapter 6: Contact

Summary:

Contact (mil.) Contact with the enemy.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, seeing König again

previous: chapter five "R&R"

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3 months later

"Listen---"

"---don't try to fuck us over. I know, Ghost, you tell me that every time," You whispered with a sigh, looking at him who was already looking at you, furrowing your brows. Already had the same conversation many times.

"Besides I've been on my best behaviour, you should give me some credit." You muttered, both of you were crawling on the ground, hiding in tall grass.

"Giving you credit for not betraying us? Fat chance," He mumbled back, making you roll your eyes.

Simple mission: Infiltration, one of your favourites. Ghost was against the idea of giving you that much freedom on the field, but Price decided that you were proven trustworthy enough to send you alone to steal some intel for an upcoming mission: coordinates for a delivery on the ports and its destination, that were kept inside a bunker disguised as an abandoned base. Of course, you were still wearing the ankle monitor, but at this point you got used to it, even put some stickers on it and Soap decided to draw a small foamy soap with a marker while you were taking a nap on the couch.

Price did allow Ghost to go with you to keep you in check, and watch your six while you got in.

It's been almost two months since Sage died, back on that private island, along with the Russian guard. And apparently Wire was born, as Soap considered it a more appropriate nickname for you, and quickly everyone followed, even Laswell. You had to admit that the double meaning behind it, alluding to the barbed wire you used that day and the fact that they kept joking about you being a spy was clever. You would still miss Sage, anyway.

On the bright side, they seemed to feel more comfortable using it rather than your other callsign, you guessed that it helped them to separate the “KorTac merc” from you. So, despite rolling your eyes when they first started using it, you grew accustomed to it. Although sometimes you didn’t turn around when they called you by it, forgetting your change of identity.

Ghost stayed back, letting you keep crawling through the fields alone. The breeze was nice, and the scent of the flowers was lovely, the ants not so much. Ghost freed one of the watch towers, eliminating the sentinel, and you secured a rope to climb, as he kept carefully shooting anyone who walked too close to his liking.

Ah, the coldness and the metallic smell of the vents, how I missed it.

After about 4 minutes you stopped, thinking you might have heard something in the distance, a muffled sound. After a minute or so of more silence, you decided to keep going until you saw the security room under you.

You carefully opened the air vent, putting the grill inside it, and with a swift movement you were down, your feet light against the ground.

The guard seemed distracted enough, not turning around and his face still facing the screens. Your eyes were fixed on him, as you took the knife out of your utility belt, holding it tight in your hand.

You crept up to him, knife in hand, and with a quick movement you grabbed him by the forehead to reveal his neck to your blade.

But something was wrong.

When you moved him, his whole dead weight fell to the side, landing on the floor. Lifeless.

You looked at him disconcerted, and just then you saw that the front of his uniform was already drenched with blood, the cut on his neck was still fresh enough to notice that someone got to him minutes before you.

"Maus?" You heard behind you, eyes widening and the grip on your knife tightening.

You turned around almost immediately, only to find König's towering figure about five feet away from you.

Back in KorTac you would joke to him, saying that it was impossible for the targets not to hear him coming, but now that you were in that place, he was silent, as if he materialized out of thin air. You neither heard or saw him, but a quick look around revealed an open maintenance closet where he was hidden, from where he heard some noises from the vent and saw it opening.

He recognized you on the spot, the way you fell from the vent as he peeped from inside the janitor closet, your hair in that bun, the way you stalked the man before attempting to strike. It was hard to recognize you with all that heavy gear, as he saw you wearing more scarce and light equipment before. At first, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't you, you would never wear camo and that 'awful military green' as you usually called it. But when he caught a glimpse of your eyes, he couldn't deny it.

You felt all your blood go to your arms and legs, staring into his eyes, the only part that his sniper hood left uncovered, black paint smeared around them, and he stared down back at you. Your brain immediately switched into survival mode. König was around 6'10” tall; you knew you were good, but you weren't that good, he would clearly overpower you in hand-to-hand combat. If you attacked him with your knife in hand, a quick strike on the neck could do, but you could also get yourself killed faster. If I reach for my gun I could probably---

But you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt him almost jumping at you, his hands quickly constricting around your body...but not in a harmful way.

He seemed to purposefully hold back, his touch careful. One hand wrapped around your waist while the other went behind your neck, as he leaned down and buried his face on the crook of your neck, holding you tight against him, your arms trapped on the sides of your body. A hug. You felt almost embarrassed that you were thinking about killing him. On the other hand, he was just glad that you kept using that bubblegum scented body wash.

"Krass! Maus, ich bin so glücklich, ich dachte, du wärst tot und niemand hat über dich gesprochen und---" He started saying in a hurried voice, as you were frozen in his arms, still processing what was happening. You have him a few awkward pats on his back with your free hand.

"König, english?" You asked softly, and he pulled away, looking down at you once again. His blue eyes filled with concern, looking into yours with familiarity, tenderness.

"I thought you died! I tried to ask about you and no one would say anything" he said in the same voice, a mix of excitement and anxiousness. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story" you said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by him, who was visibly thrilled to see you once again, and still slightly confused. "I got captured."

"Scheiße..." He muttered, and you could tell he was frowning under his hood. He then looked away, seemingly thinking about something. Before he started again. "We could go back to KorTac, explain to them all of this, and you're one of their best assets..."

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. One of their best assets? Probably his fondness of your talking for him. You were efficient, good at best, but still disposable. However, you kept listening to him, as he got progressively more carried away with his idea.

"...they could even relocate you to another country for a while, and cover your tracks, then we---"

Could you really do that? Just escape now in the middle of this mission? Would KorTac even want you back at this point? Or be willing to spend those many resources in helping you? They didn't even talk about you to König when he asked. Then your eyes drifted to the screens next to you. Your thoughts went back to being sat on the common room, sitting in the middle of Gaz and Soap, and them laughing at you as you sipped from the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” mug they got you back in town. Price was a nice commanding officer, he was clearly experienced, and it was nice to be bossed around by someone who was actually in the field with you, rather than behind a desk. Ghost…was Ghost, he still didn’t talk to you when off duty, but he kept it professional while working.

And even if you and König were relatively close, you never sat down like you did with your sergeants with him, your talks were limited to sharing one hour when he was at base and conversations while travelling. You didn’t know what he liked outside explosives and sniper rifles of which he, very often and with a childlike enthusiasm, talked about. And this was the first time he ever touched you, let alone a hug.

When you joined KorTac, you ghosted most of your friends back home, completely going off the radar from them, even when they tried to reach out through your parents, your excuse was that you were too busy now. So, friends were scarce at the time.

And your parents. Fleeing would not only mean running away from the 141 but also from your family. Who would send them money if you ran away? The mortgage, healthcare, bills, they were too much for them. You didn’t see them frequently, but the idea of not seeing them ever again made your stomach turn.

And of course, you would become a wanted criminal.

"König!" He snapped out of his rambling and focused his eyes again on you, tilting his head.

"I can't" You softly said. Your voice too strained to your liking, as you looked up at him.

He still hasn't let you go fully, still embracing you, just put space between you to be able to talk.

"W-What do you mean you can't?" He said shaking his head, clearly confused. In his mind, it was the obvious course of action.

You felt his grip tighten around you, and your comm cracked.

"Wire, how copy?" Ghost's voice said through the comm, sounding slightly impatient, prompting König to look at the source of the voice on your shoulder, and then at you again.

"Almost there, need a sec" You answered not taking off your eyes from the man towering over you.

"Wire? Was that the lieutenant of the 141?" he said drifting from your face to look down to your geared body, as if he was connecting the pieces, trying to make sense of the situation.

“You are working with them.” He said as realization hit him.

"But why, Maus?"

"I have a family, König. I can't live on the run, and they offered me a deal if I worked with them…I…I can't go to jail" You explained, looking up at him furrowing your eyebrows in distress, and you pulled down your face mask, letting him see your face fully. If it was possible, his eyes became even gentler at the sight of your face, his gaze taking in every detail.

"Family…? I didn't know" He answered in a faint and soft tone, looking down for a moment.

Then he looked at you for a few more seconds, that felt hours. He felt conflicted.

König wasn't dumb, he knew that every time you spoke to him you only revealed surface level information about yourself. Except from your PTSD, that probably was too heavy a burden to keep to yourself. Then, his hand moved from the back of your neck to your temple, as he gently traced the scar that peeked out of your hairline, going into your hair. His glove was surprisingly soothing against your scalp.

He still remembers the day you were captured. The mission went wrong, Konni soldiers were waiting for you, it was a set up; he remembers the unsettling calmness in which you explained the tortures you went through in those four days you were missing. Tied up, without food nor water, as you were constantly deprived from sleep, waterboarded, tortured with electricity, beaten up…he still remembers when the initial shock faded, and was soon replaced by anxiousness, grief, fear. He knew well about that. He remembers when you finally broke down and confessed that you could barely sleep at night, haunted by memories of being tied up, in the darkness, alone, or of your captors beating you. He tried to sooth you, to explain to you it was normal, but you needed help. Weighted blankets, sleep with a light on, drinking chamomile before bed, he recommended you what worked best for him, as well as therapy. How he wished he would have hugged you like this back then.

It took you a few months until you went back to being fully functional, he tried to take you out of your room in the barracks for a walk or tea, when he was in base, which he admits wasn’t as frequent as he would have wanted. The first time you smiled again was while on a truck, going back to the safe house KorTac had in Berlin. You showed him a photo of the little animal figures you bought, he didn’t understand what they were exactly or their purpose, but he was glad they brought you joy.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he let out a sigh, finally pulling away from you, basically forcing himself to. He slowly reached for his belt, making you flinch and instinctively raised the hand with the knife, to which he rose his other hand in surrender, as he reached inside one of his pockets, pulling out a flash drive, offering it to you.

"This is all the intel we found. There's a whole KorTac team here, I am leading Delta today. You and your new...friend, should go."

"König?" He reached for his handgun, spinning it on his hand and offering it to you.

"You moved too fast, you stole my weapon and shot me, and you fled with the intel. Nothing I could do to catch you. And I didn’t even saw your face, it was all too quick." He said with a sigh, but still gentle. You grabbed the weapon with a bit of doubt and inspected it before looking up at him again.

"I'm not going to shoot you. I could just knock you."

"Be serious, Maus." He said in a tone that said that it wouldn't be believable, and you would be mad if it wasn't true.

"It's okay, I don't mind" he said softly again, reassuring you.

"König, I'm not going to shoot you" you said in a firm tone, the one that usually made him slightly uneasy, but you were now met with a determined demeanour.

"Then they'll know I let you run away with the intel, and I'll face the consequences for my lack of judgement" You can't remember a time when you heard him so decided about something, let alone getting shot.

You groaned and reluctantly lifted his gun. You didn’t want him to get in trouble, he loves his job.

Thigh is out of the question, as well as torso. Feet are not fatal but crippling...

Shoulder.

He must have seen you aim there, taking a deep breath to try to ease your tension at the necessity of shooting someone who you consider close.

"Avoid the brachial artery, and if you could kindly avoid the---"

"Humerus because it's painful, and branchial plexus or you won't be able to move your arm. I know" you said looking straight to his shoulder before your eyes drifted back to his eyes. His gaze still fixed in you.

"I...I can't"

"Yes, you can, Maus. And we're running out of time. It's a 22. calibre, if you shot on pectoralis minor avoiding my bones and arteries, I'll be fine. Will be an in-and-out. Flesh wound. Textbook," There's nothing textbook about this.

You took another deep breath, your eyes focusing on the spot, until they drifted back to König, and his gaze still felt unbelievably soft, despite the situation. You have worked with him since you joined KorTac, your commanding officer…your friend. He saw you become who you are.

"Thank you" You whispered to him, gratefulness in your voice.

He nodded, and the way his eyes were creasing made you believe he might be smiling.

Across the hallway, Delta-3, who was shooting the last remaining witness with his silencer, heard a singular gunshot. Coming from the same door where their C.O. disappeared a few minutes ago. He quickly alerted the others.

König didn’t have a big reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut while he grunted before he told you to flee. And you thanked him one last time before you jumped back into the vent.

"Ghost, I have the intel, but I've been compromised. Building is filled with KorTac operators. Meet you at the exfil point." You muttered as you were quickly crawling through the vents again, hearing behind you screams in German and in English calling for back-ups. He was kind enough to give you a two-minute advantage.

You went down the rope on the side of the building, from the watch tower you used to get into, and ran as fast as you could through the fields. When you were half on the way you heard screams, quickly followed by shots on the ground and the trees beside you, before your figure was lost over a hill, making König let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

You kept running until you saw the Jeep that you used to get there, with Ghost already sitting on the driver seat, the motor already on.

However, when relief was washing over you, panting from the long sprint over the hill as you opened the passenger door, you quickly met the end of a gun pointing at you. First you looked back in confusion…then in fear, but you raised your hands slowly, meeting his eyes.

"Ghost..." You managed to make out, your words were slow and careful. Your mind already too clouded with emotions from your encounter with König.

"KorTac, huh?" His tone was cold, cutting right through you.

"I didn't know! I even had to shoot one of them" Not mortally, and he let me, but still technically true. "Laswell checks all my devices, I never leave the base, you have a tracker on me. Hell, I can't betray you even if I wanted.”

Ghost was not one to trust, especially you. You were in the comfort of your flat, bought with your mercenary money, crossing paths with him, and pretending you weren't into his team like a damn leech. He had to admit you were a good liar in general, probably the reason why you were on the job.

"Simon…please." You pleaded, your hands still up, your voice almost a whisper. His jaw tightened, biting into nothing.

He knew that you were calling him by his name as a desperate attempt of moving something in him, to make him think of you as someone somehow familiar, to make him trust you. He hated that it somewhat worked. His eyes were locked on your face, studying it. When you would talk to him on the lift, or when you arrived to your flat, in your eyes, he could see that you were lying. It was just a hint, something quick, easy to miss if someone wasn’t looking for it in the first place. But today he didn't find that, he saw something else. You were telling the truth, and you were genuinely terrified.

He moved his thumb, putting the safety back on, and lowered his gun.

You breathe again, your body is still tense, and with your heart still pounding in your chest, you quickly get into the car.

You spend the next hour on a very silent road back to the airport.

As every Tuesday night, you were in the common room, sitting on the couch with Soap and Gaz, watching the Great British Bake Off, a new season. You liked it, it temporarily numbed your brain, and having company was soothing.

"I miss the old guys. I still can't believe that cunt won" Soap groaned, leaning back to the arm of the couch. He had his legs over it, and a notebook resting on his legs as he seemed not focused on the TV but in the paper in front of him.

"Bonnie, can you lift your chin a bit?" He asked, to which you just raised your face slightly, complying. Still focusing on the screen, attentively hearing today's recipe.

"It's been like one month, get over it" Gaz said, and when he heard Soap's request, he turned to him, peeping over his legs into his journal. He saw a halfway sketch of your profile, along with other small drawings like your mug and a sketch of Riley. He then added.

"Drawing her like one of your French girls? Very smooth, MacTavish" he said teasingly, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, she saw my journal and she asked me to. Besides she is still dressed..." He said defensively. He had to admit that having an excuse to stare at you was pleasant.

“…for now," He muttered under his breath with a small smirk, jokingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"And I intend to keep it that way," You said back.

Gaz and you were watching attentively how one of the new contestants was putting his broken ganache aside, clearly frustrated as she started a whole new batch.

"She should try to melt it and whisk it. Still can be saved" A familiar husky voice said from behind the three of you.

All of you turned around, only to find a nonchalant Ghost, with his mask over the bridge or his nose, sipping on his tea and watching the TV.

Simon purposefully avoided the common room on Tuesdays, not wanting to perturb whatever ritual you had going on with Gaz and Soap, and to avoid you. The image of you, blood stained, sitting next to the guard you just butchered returned to his mind more than he would like to admit. The man was easily a head taller than you, bigger than you, and yet he was laying dead, face almost disfigured by your hand. He couldn’t help but being impressed, as he assumed you were only good to shove yourself into small spaces and stalk. Knowing that you were capable of such carnage, despite your size, sparked something in him. He hated that. But he appreciated the resourceful use of the barbed wire.

When you were in the jeep, silent and still shaken with adrenaline beside him, he felt a tingle of guilt from pointing a gun at you. He knew he was justified, as the whole situation felt oddly suspicious, but Price was right, you weren’t giving any reasons to doubt you, and you were right as well, as you were heavily monitored to even try something out of the ordinary. His thoughts were divided between apologizing and don’t, both sides had good arguments in his head. So, showing up was a middle ground. An olive branch, sort of speak.

"You bake?" Soap asked in an incredulous tone, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I know a few things," He answered before taking another sip.

"How come you never bake anything for us?" Soap asked again, this time sounding outraged.

"You never asked."

chapter seven: coming soon!

Sorry for taking so long! Had a few small issues but I'm feeling inspired again! Will be updating soon <3

Thank you to the lovely people following this! : @no-lessthan3, @blush-haze, @eustassh, @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod #konig cod #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #soap x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price

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im-a-writer-sometimes · 11 months

Text

Thank You, Doctor (Miguel O’Hara - Part 3/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language, angst, me trying to skirt around the fact that miguel o’hara is a bit of fascist

🕷

Miguel found nothing more than a trail gone cold in your father’s last universe. He’d left his calling card—a smashed portal bracelet he’d engineered himself. Miguel wasn’t sure why he always built a new one before jumping. Perhaps he didn’t want someone to be able to trace his footsteps, as if anyone back at headquarters had managed to crack the tech.

He’d taken this mission by himself, still getting used to the stretch of his scars beneath his suit. He hadn’t expected to find your father—he never did. On the occasion that he showed up, it would be a base-wide affair. Your father had earned the nickname The Jumper because of how often he hopped from universe to universe, leaving chaos sown in his wake. Several spiders had their own universes nearly wrecked by his hand. Every spider on base would be more than happy to help if he was found, and Miguel would be more than happy to utilize them.

“Find anything, Lyla?”

He was poking through the Jumper’s apartment, coming up short on anything.

“From the radioactive traces he left behind, I’m guessing he was here a while ago, for no longer than a week.”

He nodded, taking one last sweep of the room. “Keep combing through universes for that trace,” he said.

“What do you take me for? An amateur?” she asked, before winking out. He swallowed a groan of annoyance before pressing his own bracelet, calling forth a portal and stepping through.

When he got back to headquarters, it was already well-past twilight, the base void of its usual noise. His feet carried him to the cafeteria of their own accord—or, perhaps, by the accord of his stomach. When he got there, he found a familiar insomniac curled up at a corner table with a reheated cheeseburger and a book.

You looked up at the sight of him, eyes going wide. He realized then that he still had his mask on, and he likely blended in with the thousands of other spider people you saw on a daily basis. He tugged off his mask as he stepped inside, and your shoulders slumped with relief. You smiled at him before turning back to your book.

His heart did a somersault at the realization that you felt comfortable, maybe even safe, around him, and he turned towards the vending machine before he had to start unpacking that. You didn’t need to bait him with a bag of cheetos this time; he sat down across from you of his own accord. You didn’t glance up from your book, and it was only then that he saw the slight tightness in your shoulders. Maybe not completely safe.

“Still contemplating your own existence?” he asked, and you smiled at her book.

“Just riding that wave of existential dread,” you said. “How did your mission go?”

You still didn’t look up, but he could hear the quickened beat of your heart, the way you held your breath as you waited for a response.

“Dead end,” he said, and you let out a breath. He couldn’t tell if you were relieved that your father hadn’t been caught, or simply grateful to get that part of the conversation out of the way. “You never met him?”

You shook your head.

“Sorry for freaking out earlier,” you said. “I just walked in, and Sam was glitching in and out, and I wasn’t sure what to do.” You finally lifted your eyes towards him, and he simply watched you. “What?”

“You two seem to get along well,” was all he said.

You lifted your eyebrows. “Me and Sam? Sure, yeah.”

“Sure, yeah?”

“What exactly are you asking?” you said, your eyes narrowing.

“Nothing, I'm just inquiring about your life.”

“You know he’s about twice my age, right?”

“Yes, is that—” He paused. “Do age gaps matter to you?”

You bit back a smirk, setting your book down on the table between you. “Was there a specific age gap you were curious about, Miguel?” you asked.

“No,” he answered, a bit too quickly. You smiled. God, he hated that smile.

“You gonna eat that honey bun?” you asked, nodding down at the snack before him. He forgot he’d even gotten it. He ripped open the packaging and took a bite, glancing up to find you still smiling that stupid goddamn smile.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said around a bite of honey bun, and your smile only widened.

“Ten years older,” you said, picking up your book again. “That’s my limit.”

“I didn’t ask,” he said. You hummed in response, sticking your nose back in your book. Silence settled between you two before he gruffly admitted, “This is nice.”

“The honey bun?” you asked.

“No,” he said. “Just—being with someone. Not having to talk.”

You glanced at him. “I agree. It’s a lot like what Sam and I have.” He slowed his chewing, and your smile widened. “Kidding,” you clarified, and he shook his head.

“¿Por qué te aguanto?⁴” he muttered, taking another bite.

“You better be saying nice things about me.”

“Always,” he replied, gazing your way as you yawned. “Perhaps you should get to bed.”

You shook your head. “One more chapter.”

He sat there, finishing his honey bun, standing up to get a bottle of water and sitting back down to finish it as you read. He didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep in the booth until his water was gone and he was standing to leave.

“Y/n,” he said, nudging you. Your head plopped onto your shoulder, but you didn’t stir. “Y/n, wake up.” Another nudge, still you slept. “Lo que sea,⁵” he muttered, before calling softly for Lyla. “Where is Y/l/n’s room?” he asked. “Don’t say it,” he tacked on after she smiled. She told him where you lived, and he waved her off.

He grabbed your book first, noting the page number, tucking it under his arm before he scooped you up. The walk to your room was slow; he was sure not to jostle you as you slept. At some point, your face fell from his shoulder into the crook of his neck, and you softly muttered something delirious against his skin. He passed only one or two spider people as he trekked up to your room, and they all gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, before promptly turning away. When he got there, he laid you softly against your mattress, tugging your blankets over your slowly-breathing frame. He rummaged around until he found a sticky note, quickly tucking it inside the book on the page you were on before he quietly slipped out.

🕷

“Miguel and Y/n sitting in a tree—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” said Miguel, waving Lyla from off of the top of one of his screens. She dissipated and reappeared right beside him, smiling wide.

“I’m happy to report that Y/n was significantly less talkative with Sam this morning,” said Lyla. “After your late night rendezvous.”

“It’s none of my business who she’s talkative or not talkative with,” he said, once again brushing her away.

“Is it your business that your rival is currently approaching?” she asked, before disappearing.

“My rival? Lyla, what are you—”

The door quietly opened, and he turned, watching as Sam stepped through.

“Cosa descarada,⁶” he mumbled as he swung down from his platform, landing in front of Sam. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I—uh—” Sam simply blinked at him, and Miguel raised his brows, crossing his arms over his chest. That only made the man falter more, crossing his own thin arms. “I was just coming to thank you.”

“To thank me,” Miguel repeated.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes glancing about the room as he spoke. “So, thank you.”

“Y/n—or, Dr. Y/l/n, is the one who helped you,” he said. “I just happened to have a wristband.”

“Of course,” said Sam. “So, thank you. For having the wristband.”

“Right,” said Miguel, narrowing his eyes as the man scanned the room, taking everything in. “Was there anything else?”

“Quite the impressive setup,” he said, stepping past Miguel. “Is this the base of operations?”

“You’re still a prisoner here, Dr. Eddard,” he said, making the man pause. “Don’t breach your welcome.”

He wasn’t sure where the sudden ire had come from, but he needed this man to know where he stood. Sam Eddard had appeared out of nowhere, far out of his universe, using weapons from his own to pull clunky, petty robberies as if he was itching to get caught. He wasn’t guiltless. He wasn’t Y/n.

When Sam turned around, there was something sunken on his face, and Miguel felt bad—for a moment. Then the man was scurrying away, and Miguel was letting out a breath, and he could only try his best to stop thinking about Sam Eddard and the woman he worked alongside.

🕷

When he slipped into the cafeteria that night, he found you there as usual, but there was no smile to greet him. Instead, you slammed your book closed and sat up straight in your seat.

“Still a prisoner here?” you said, and his heart went still in his chest.

“What?” he asked, still standing halfway across the room.

“Is that what you think of us?”

“Us?” he asked. “Who’s us?”

“You thought Sam wouldn’t tell me what you said?” you asked, and his heart fell as you closed the distance between you. “You forget him and I are the same.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, crossing his arms. “He was a criminal, Y/n. You weren’t.”

“But neither of us knew what was happening. Both of us deserved to stay exactly where we were, criminals or not, before we were taken hostage.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t have chosen to stay,” he countered.

“How am I supposed to know what I would have chosen?” you scoffed. “I wasn’t given a choice!”

“What would you have had me do? Allow your entire universe to collapse? For one person?”

“I don’t know!”

“I don’t know why you’re upset with me!”

“I’m upset, because I’m apparently still your prisoner!”

“¡No me estás escuchando!⁷” he said, running his hands over his face. “You’re not him. You’re not a prisoner.”

“Then what am I?” you asked, throwing up your hands. “What am I, Miguel?”

“You—” He gestured vaguely before him, trying and failing to find the words. You took a step away, shaking your head.

“You can make jokes, and share my table, and carry me to my room, and bookmark my goddamn book, but that doesn’t change the fact that you had me brought here and caged like an animal—”

“The multiverse—”

“The multiverse is made up of people, Miguel. It seems you’re so blinded by your mission that you may have forgotten that.”

He brought his hands to his hips, standing taller. “I thought you had made peace with all this.”

“I haven’t made peace with the fact that I even had to make peace, and I—I don’t know,” you said, laughing slightly. “I don’t even know. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t know you.” Then you crossed the room, grabbed your book, and started towards the door.

“Y/n,” said Miguel, jogging to catch up to you, wrapping a hand around your arm to stop you.

“Am I not free to go?” you asked, and the venom in your tone had him dropping his hand and taking a step back.

“Y/n,” he repeated, softer this time. “You know it’s not all so simple.”

You shook your head, laughing again. “God, and to think I was sitting here giggling like a teenager at you and your stupid smile like I’m not just some easy catch already on the end of your line.”

“That’s not true!”

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here—”

“If it weren’t for me, your whole universe would be gone! If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead!”

You only smiled, shaking your head once again. “And what kind of gratitude do you expect?”

He said your name again, but he didn’t dare follow you as you left.

🕷

Part 4

(4) “Why do I put up with you?”

(5) “Whatever”

(6) “Cheeky thing”

(7) “You’re not listening to me!”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst

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rabidpomeranians · 1 year

Text

An unorthodox approach to troll reproduction

It’s blood.

Its always been blood, and we’ve all been fooled by our own preconceived notions of how reproduction works. We were given a fill in the blank riddle and got it so wrong that the thousands of fanfics that reference it stand now as a monument to our presumptuousness.

It’s the easiest bodily fluid to get a literal bucket full of quickly. It contains DNA that can be recombined with a partners and utilized by the mother grub. It keeps pairs of any sex/gender viable. And it weirdly explains why rainbowdrinkers are a thing...

First debunking the other possibilities:

From a human perspective the answers to troll reproduction that immediately come would be A) Two sexes with matched-set gemetes, B) All genetically male, or C) Hermaphrodites. Which all come with contradictions.

A) If individuals only produce sperm or eggs, than a statistically significant number of all pairs would be non productive. Given trolls have no concern over the viability of same sex quadrants, there must be a different mechanic in use.

B) If all trolls produce only sperm cells than there would be no mechanism for genetic mixing between individuals. In fact there would be no point in pairing/quadrants at all. Their social system would match ants or bees which forgo reproductive activity outside of one to one interactions with their queen.

Since its been stated that the viability of offspring is effected by the strength of a pair, we know that pairing is a crucial element. Also if trolls are all genetically male, than binary gender has little to no reason to exist (unless sex and gender are also conceptually divorced, which is another theory).

C) The hardest one to knock and the most popular for it. I guess I would pose the question why, in a strongly individualist society, would people form pairs to do what they could technically do all on their own? Or at least why would ‘self-pairing’ not be more common. Sure, pairing allows for more variety but if the gametes paired randomly, half of the resulting mix would still be self fertilized anyways.

Ok but what does blood have to do with anything like this?

The fundamental flaw that lies over all three answers and probably several more is that we’ve applied human physiology to an alien species. Yes they look similar but their quadrants and mother grubs are vastly different from our monogamy and individually assigned reproductive organs.

Blood mixing negates sex pairing issues, allowing any two individuals to produce offspring. It allows for genetic recombination, given it contains plenty of dna and possibly beneficial hormones produced from the emotional virility of a pair. Lastly, it necessitates pairing. Mixed and unmixed blood have some kind of fundamental difference, which disallows an individual from self-pairing.

I’d chalk it up to something with the immune system. It’s like how in humans certain blood types mixing causes an immune response. Which inside of a body is horrible because it bursts the blood cells, but in an external mix, bursting cells leave exposed dna, allowing for easier recombination. The ‘dominant’ blood type (immunologically, not caste related) dismantles and assimilates the ‘recessive’ producing a viable ‘genetic slurry’ to be hauled off to the mother grub.

And there is plenty of room for the social taboo behavior exhibited by trolls throughout the comic. Trolls live on a hell planet where everything, and everyone, everywhere is looking for an opportunity to kill them, all the time. Thus advertising that you’ve recently lost a half gallon of blood and are vulnerable because of it, would be really stupid. It makes sense then, to keep talk down and hide away any evidence. This evolves pretty seamlessly into a close enough match to the typical cagey/secretive behavior humans tend to show around their own reproductive activities. Hence why we perceive a parallel even though the reasoning is different.

tldr: We all assume that trolls connect sex with reproduction because that’s what we do, but they’re aliens, they do weird alien things. If their biology worked exactly like ours, they wouldn’t have a big weird moth laying eggs for them. Also you’re welcome.

#homestuck #troll biology #theory #I like to think hussie planned that from the start and got a nice giggle out before realizing we would never let it go #i know the reality is that it was just a shock thing that gained more momentum than expected #but the image of them suffering our presumptive stupidity as much as we've suffered all the weird shit that's come of this feels cathartic

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jazzycurls · 1 year

Text

You Belong To Me

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Its a surprise 😉🤫

Warnings/Tags: 18+ minors dni! Unestablished dom/sub relationship, bullying, cheating, slight coercion, smut, thigh riding, choking (let me know if I missed something)

An: Hi you guys! I guess I'm not new to writing anymore but I'm definitely still a newbie. All feedback is welcome, be gentle please haha. Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work, everything besides the characters and plot points by the original writers, belongs to me. Repost since Tumblr is tripping. Love you guys and thank you so much for the support, hope you enjoy ❤

Word Count: 3,245

You kept your head down as you walked down the hall, trying hard to avoid being noticed. Life as a high schooler was hard, even more so when you had someone who had made it their mission to terrorize you every chance they got. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you saw Mrs. O'Donnell's class up ahead.

'Just a few more steps,' you thought silently. The possibility of making it to class on time for once seemed very likely. It was no fault of your own that you were constantly late, your tormentor always chose the moments right before class to harass you. Before you could make it to the door, you were yanked backward by your backpack into a utility closet.

You yelped in alarm as you stumbled over your feet into the dark room. The door clicked shut when your back hit the solid surface with a thud. You let out a strangled gasp from the wind being knocked out of you.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as a looming figure towered over you threateningly. You were yanked upward by the collar of your shirt, bringing you face to face with your assailant. "Where is it," he uttered with a low dark voice.

Light seeped in from the cracks of the door, offering a small amount of light in the dark space. "What?" Your eyes zero in on dark solemn eyes, instantly recognizing it to be Eddie.

"Don't fuck with me, sweetheart." He took the hand fisting your collar, moving it upward to wrap lightly around your throat. His thumb rested on the front, applying enough pressure to make your head swim without cutting off your circulation.

"I— I d-didnt have time to do both of our work." The words left your mouth in a meek whimper. Your heart thundered in your ears and tears bristled against your lashes from anxiety.

Eddie shook his head in mock sympathy as he squeezed your neck tighter. "I'm really disappointed in you darling," he whispered as he leaned close to your ear. His lips ghosted over your ear causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"I'm sorry Eddie," you cried softly. A few tears skipped down your cheeks. For reasons unknown, you were genuinely saddened to have disappointed him. The rational part of you knew that you had no real reason to be upset but the feelings remained nonetheless.

The soft pads of his guitar-calloused thumbs wiped the tears away from your face. He let out a heavy sigh "No worries— I guess we'll just have to find a way for you to make it up to me," he stated simply as he played with the soft ends of your hair, twirling it around his finger.

You shook your head vigorously, eager to have the chance to make it up to Eddie and avoid any punishments.

"There's a party tonight at Janie Calhoun's. I want you to be there," he told you, leaving no room for argument.

"What about Chrissy," you questioned. You knew that he and Chrissy were a thing. There was no way he would take you to a party instead of her right?

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about her. You just show up and wait for me, I'll come find you." The sound of the tardy bell began to ring in the background, catching his attention. "Gotta go, I'll see you later," he finally steps away from you and drops his hand from your neck.

You move away from the door, allowing him to open it and slip out. You wait a minute before leaving the small room. Your mind runs rapidly with thoughts of what Eddie has in store for you.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Eddie wasn't a bully, at least he liked to think so. He had become something like a protector to the lost sheep who wandered the halls of Hawkins High. He took the outcasts under his wing, giving them a brotherhood of sorts that offered friendship and protection as well. He knew that if the dynamics of his relationship with y/n ever came to light, he would have a lot of explaining to do.

It's not that he didn't like y/n, it was quite the opposite. He thought that she was beautiful, sweet, and kind. She was also naive and shy, which also endeared him to her. Something about her nature made him want to dominate her. He knew it wasn't healthy and he didnt understand it, he just knew that it was a reaction he had whenever he was around her and only her.

The fact that he was with Chrissy complicated things immensely. The history between him and Chrissy ran deep and he felt obligated to her in a way. He loved Chrissy but he was in love with y/n. He needed and wanted you beyond comprehension.

The music thumped loudly, causing the house to vibrate. He leaned back against the couch, spread out comfortably with his arm wrapped around Chrissy. She sat close to him with her hand perched on top of his knee, while she spoke animatedly with her friends. A joint sat loosely between his lips as he inhaled and exhaled the smoke lazily.

Eddie hated parties and with his girlfriend being the social butterfly that she was, he felt obligated to show up as well. On the plus side, it allowed him to make a lot of money on rich inebriated high schoolers who couldn't tell when he was ripping them off.

His heart sped up at the sight of you as you made your way through the crowd of horny teenagers dancing in the middle of the floor. You had on a pink pleated skirt that stopped mid-thigh, paired with a white low-cut blouse that showcased your ample cleavage teasingly. Once you had cleared the floor, you made your way to the corner of the room and braced yourself against the wall.

Sweat trickled down the back of your neck from the heat of all the people crowded in the living room. Someone had cracked open a few windows allowing some of the cool night air to filter through. You pressed yourself against the wall as a couple squeezed by you, heading up the stairs. A sigh fell from your lips as you glanced around the room.

You were definitely not looking for Eddie, you told yourself as you searched the crowd. Your search was cut short as a guy with blonde hair and blue came to stand in front of you. A drunken smile settled on his face as he looked you up and down. He leaned close to your ear "Wanna dance," he yelled. You cringed as the smell of his beer-laced breath fanned across your face.

"No thanks," you stated firmly. You turned your gaze away from him, indicating the conversation to be over. He moved away from you as he left, in search of another prospect.

Your eyes met Eddie's dark gaze and an audible gasp pilfered from your lips. A girl next to you gave you a questioning look and you smiled back apologetically. You turned back to Eddie and noticed that he had left and the seat beside Chrissy was now empty.

You made your way into what you believed was the kitchen, searching for a drink. The only beverages available were beer, cheap liquor, and water. You decided on a beer and you could use one to help settle your nerves.

'This is so stupid,' you said to yourself, as you took a sip of your drink, currently on your third beer. Here you were drinking this God-awful beer, at a party with people you didn't know, all for a person who didn't even like you! Who were you kidding, the only reason you were here was because Eddie scared the hell out of you. The thought of defying him sent a chill up your spine.

Your bladder began to ache slightly, protesting the liquid you had rapidly ingested. You wobbled a bit as you pushed away from the counter and headed back toward the living room. Your eyes immediately went to the spot you had last seen Eddie, finding that his spot was still empty. Chrissy had also left and was now on the dance floor with the rest of the cheer squad dancing proactively as the jocks leered nearby.

You shook your head and turned towards the staircase as you made your way upstairs. As you passed by various rooms, your ears were bombarded by an onslaught of moans and thumping immersing from the rooms.

'How many rooms does this house have,' you wondered as you walked down the carpeted hall. You tried the last room on the right, which was the only room with no noises coming from the other side. You smiled in victory when you saw it was indeed the bathroom and closed the door shut behind you.

You quickly used the bathroom and made your way to wash your hands. You were checking your reflection in the mirror when you heard the doorknob turn.

"Someone's in here," you called out, with a frown gracing your features. You had been sure that you had locked the door behind you. The person on the other side opened the door, disregarding the fact that the bathroom was occupied.

Your heart fluttered nervously as you pressed yourself against the sink. Panic began to rise within you, making your stomach twist in knots. A curly head of hair peeked in, as they slipped into the bathroom. Relief flooded through you when you realized it was just Eddie.

You visibly relaxed as you let out a sigh of relief. "Eddie, you scared the daylights outta me." Your hand flew to your chest as you let out a nervous laugh. Eddie stood with his back against the door, his gaze dark as he regarded you silently.

"Eddie," you called out uneasily. Your nerves began to rise again as you realized that Eddie had yet to say anything. You were so happy that Eddie had walked in and not some dangerous stranger, that you had momentarily forgotten that Eddie was essentially a bully to you.

The deafening sound of the lock clicking rang in your ears like an alarm. "What are you doing," you whispered, watching as he stalked towards you.

"I told you, sweetheart, that I would come find you," he replied, quickly crossing the room. He leaned into your space, placing his hands on the counter on each side of you. "Y'know y/n I was real disappointed in you earlier. Thought that you were my good girl."

"But I am— a good girl," you exclaimed hesitantly, the thought of being anything but good upset you immensely. No one had ever called you anything but good before. You were known as the straight-A student who never got in trouble, a perfectionist who could also be a little high-strung sometimes. For reasons you couldn't explain, you wanted— no you needed Eddie's approval.

He shook his head as a gleam lit up his dark irises. "Think I'm ready for you to make it up to me baby." His arms wrapped around you and he spun you both around, placing himself against the counter.

'This is wrong,' you thought to yourself. Eddie was with Chrissy and he had never once shown any type of kindness towards you. Every one of your interactions together had been with some type of intimidation involved. Deep down you knew that you liked Eddie on some level. That's why you had never asked for help, deep down you liked the attention he gave you, whether it was good or bad. You had even begun to crave it without realizing it.

There was one question that plagued you....why you? You were certain that he didn't like you, why would he want to be with you in that way? The question fell from your lips as a small frown darkened your face.

"I don't know why," he admitted honestly. His carefully schooled features slipped for a moment, allowing a genuine expression to slip through. He had tried to stay away and not think about you but you had him in a chokehold. You were always on his mind and he had failed miserably.

"But I— this isn't right Eddie! You belong to Chrissy!" Your head swam as you struggled to breathe. You were braced tightly against Eddie. The feel of every hard angle on his body, pressed roughly against your soft curves was causing your breath to come out in spurts.

"And you belong to me," he said simply. I don't need permission to take what's mine. "You are mine aren't you?” He wedged his leg between yours, pressing it directly into your middle.

You breathed in sharply at the feel of his hard thigh ground up against you and your mind went blank, unable to form a response.

"Baby, I asked you a question." His voice was stern as he stared down at you. He moved one hand to your lower back and rested the other lightly against your throat.

The cool metal of his rings bit into your skin and your eyes glaze over as you nodded your head silently. A beautiful smile lit up his face at your response. His dimples peeked out and his dark eyes shone with tiny flecks of ember in them. Your insides warmed at the sight and you decided then that you would do anything to have him look at you like that again.

He takes ahold of your hip and begins to grind you along his thigh slowly. You grab onto his shoulders quickly allowing him to guide your movements. He eases your body into a languid rhythm and all thoughts flee from your mind as your body begins to move on its own. He reaches down between you and slips his hand underneath your skirt. His fingers brush along the sides of your folds as he tugs on the front of your panties, pulling the sides to the middle and upward. Your lips swallow the fabric, applying more friction onto your clit.

Eddie's eyes are trained on you, mesmerized by the faces you're making. You have your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you attempt to stifle your moans. A small smirk lifts the corner of his mouth as his eyes sparkle mischievously. His grip on your hips tightens as he presses you down, jerking you forward. Your reaction is immediate and a low groan leaves your lips, and your hands clasp together tightly behind his neck.

The hand around your throat tightens, limiting your air and making your head spin. "Go faster baby." His voice is stern and gruff filled with restrained desire.

You pick up speed and begin to ride his thigh in earnest. Your clit drags along the rough denim of his jeans, sparks of arousal shoot through you and your nub begins to swell from the pleasure. Your panties are saturated with your juices, making a delicious mess on his thigh. Heat spreads throughout your body making you feel like you are on fire. A stream of airy moans flows from you as your lower half pulses and clenches with an aching need to be filled.

Lust clouds Eddie's face as he leans towards you, sliding his tongue against the rim of your ear. His voice is husky as he whispers the filthiest things you've ever heard into your ear. His name falls from your lips with a gasp and your movements become frenzied as you hurtle toward your release.

"That's it baby, ride me. Yeah just like that." he praises, his eyes are dark and blown out with lust. His lips replace the hand around your throat and he starts to lick and suck into your soft skin. He doesn't stop until a pretty bruise is formed, front and center for everyone to see.

A red-hot flush spreads from head to toe as your orgasm hits. Shudders rack throughout your frame and your grinding slows down to a complete halt. You rest your forehead on his as you try to regain control over your breathing.

"Such a good girl," Eddie coos as he takes your chin into his hand softly. His eyes are soft and back to their normal dark brown color. He looks at your plump soft lips and wants nothing more than to kiss you right now. His gaze flits from your lips back to your face as he pulls your body closer to his.

Your breaths mingle together and your eyes slide shut when his nose nudges yours intimately. His lips part, tongue peeking out as he brings his lips down onto yours.

Eddie's heart stops when he feels your lips on his. Your lips are soft as you move tentatively against his, unsure of what to do. He's sure that this is your first kiss and feels proud that he's the first to have you in this way. He deepens the kiss and his fingers dig into your hips as he grips you tighter.

A loud knock pulls you both from the moment instantly. A guilty look flashes across your face as you jump from his lap, scurrying across the room.

"Occupied," Eddie yells out gruffly, pissed off at the interruption. You hear mumbling on the other side of the door before footsteps fade away. He stands up glancing down at his pants, noticing a wet spot on his dark jeans. His erection is strained against his pants, causing a noticeable budge. He looks over to you and you keep your eyes trained on the floor.

He crosses the small space over to you and you glance up at him beneath your lashes. His ringed fingers ghost over your lips as he looks down at you. "Gonna call you later tonight, sweetheart."

He lets his fingers fall from your lips and down your chin before he takes his hand away. He doesn't wait for an answer as he makes his way to the door, preparing to leave.

"Wait," you call out. He stops and turns back to you with a raised brow. "You don't have my number," you exclaim softly.

He gives you a knowing look before a laugh rumbles in his chest. "Just wait up for me sweetheart, I'll call." He gives you one last look making you clench your thighs together before he slips out the door closing it behind him.

Your mind is empty, and you feel almost giddy. You know that in the morning you'll have to think about the consequences of your actions but for tonight all is calm. You wait a few minutes to collect yourself before you exit the bathroom. You leave the party immediately and head home so you could wait for Eddie's call.

Part 2.

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comingyourlugubriousness · 5 months

Text

I wrote this a long time ago for Twst SMAU. Some lore on how Ghost King! Idia and Mario!Yume meet! I have a general plot planned, but right now I'm working on Ghost Marriage lore so I'm not sure when I'll get around to it! I have lots of fun with this au though! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

Enjoy! Writing under the cute!

Title: Ghost King Join's the Party!

Length: 6.5k words

“Whe he he!~ It’s finally finished!” Idia giggled, his sinister laughter echoing throughout the dark, cold dungeon.

“This is gonna be the one for sure, no way he gets out of this one!” He assured himself, and himself alone as there was no other soul in the room with him. His ghostly underlings were all at their posts; awaiting the expected arrival of one, said Yuuta Midori. Idia sighed, his brows furrowing at the thought of his rival.

During their last encounter Yuuta had “beaten” him…that part wasn’t…really uncommon. Yuuta interrupting his plans was a constant plague on his life to the point where he was genuinely worried about the amount of free time Yuuta had. But, even though Idia never won their encounters in a literary sense he had always gotten what he needed to do.

Sure, Yuuta may have stopped him from summoning an undead army, but he had gotten away with the necromantic book he needed with the spell. So in a way he was the true “winner” in their game. That is until last time….

Absent-mindedly, he touched the top of his head. A place where his family’s crown was supposed to be sitting.

“How annoying…freaking goodie goodie…” He grumbled to himself. Idia got careless with their last encounter. When trying to steal those parts for his machines he ended up losing his crown.

“It wasn’t my fault!” He groaned aloud, drearily pacing back and forth as he talked to himself.

“Those Toads wouldn’t sell anything to me! Just because I had some “terrifying and scary Boo's” with me.” He put finger quotes and rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

“So what if they scared a few people!?” He shrugged. “I needed the parts way more than them!” He pointed at himself indignantly, as if he was having an intense debate with someone.”They weren’t utilizing the parts to their full potential! Just letting them rust away in a corner because they were too STUPID to see its value!” He growled, the long blue flames of his hair blazing a harsh red for a second as he kicked a loose rock on the floor.

Idia yelped as it actually kinda of hurt his foot…

“But would that wannabe anti-hero with a mom complex hear me out?! Noooooo of course not!~ Cuz I’m just the gross, creepy, shut-in who lives with dead people!!” He complained dramatically, hopping up and down on one foot until the pain subsided. Idia’s voice simply echoed off the empty walls of his family's old castle dungeon. Only the slight jangling of chains in the wind through the cracks in the walls responded back to him…He stood there for a few moments soaking in the lonely silence as his face went passive and expressionless.

It was fine…he was used to it by now…

Idia sighed, feeling ashamed that he was once again getting himself so worked up in a conversation by himself. How pathetic…

“Well…I guess it doesn’t matter. Once I capture that wannabe hero, I’ll make him give me back my crown.” He grinned widely at the idea, his sharp teeth on full display.

“We just have to-Hm?” He stopped, hearing a notification sound from his tablet. He lifted his cloak, sticking his hand through it to the pocket dimension inside and pulling out of his tablet. Unlocking it to check his security cameras feeds.

“What the-?!” Idia’s brows furrowed and he leaned forward; hunching close to the screen.

There he saw a chaotic scene; dozens of his Boo subjects all scattering around, panicked expressions on their faces. They all flitted about, desperately finding places to hide and disappearing into old furniture. Through the blurs of barely transparent ghosts he could see the rooms of his family’s castle were a wreck, more so than usual, as if battles had taken place. Remnants of his puzzles and traps that he had so strategically placed were either rendered obsolete or smashed to smithereens.

Did Yuuta do this?? It usually took him longer to solve Idia’s traps and he NEVER scared any of his subjects like this, usually they did the scaring!

Idia watched as one Boo ran right into one of his security cameras cracking the lens. What was his name…? Herbert? Idia wasn’t sure. He was never good at recognizing all their faces and remembering their names… it was always Ortho who…

His train of thought was interrupted as someone stepped in the camera frame.

Due to the crack in the camera lens, Idia couldn’t make out any details, but he saw the Boo shriek and scrambled to get away. A blurred motion approaching the camera was the last thing he saw before it was busted. The camera feed going offline.

Idia winced and sneered in annoyance thinking about how he’d have to replace that camera now. Though he felt himself beginning to sweat as he cycled through the other camera feeds, trying to identify or even catch a glimpse of his intruder. But he never could, they were always just out of sight of the camera angles or moving too fast for him to get a clear picture. Just a red blur? He swallowed hard; he couldn’t help but notice that the cameras he was following were getting closer and closer to his current location.

“Gah, geez what’s with this horror movie atmosphere!” He bemoaned, growling in frustration as another camera was destroyed, just one room away from the dungeon he was currently standing in. A few seconds later he heard a bang from outside the door.

“Wha-! O-oh forget this!” He said, closing his tablet and stuffing it in his cloak.

“N-n-nothing w-wrong with a strategic retreat! H-hehe?” he said to himself, laughing, nervously as he hurried to gather his tools and keys.

*THUMP*

He jumped in place and failed to hold back a high pitched shriek, his tools falling around his feet; as the heavy wooden dungeon door entrance was suddenly struck.

“O-Oh! Oh, shit!” Idia looked around frantically. The banging on the door continued relentlessly. It wouldn’t hold forever.

Usually he would just phase through the walls to escape, but that was impossible here. The dungeon was designed to imprison even ghosts. He could try to take this threat head on, but without his crown his powers were so nerfed he could BARELY use them to fight. He let out a nervous noise, stepping around his trap's trigger, and cramming himself into a corner of one of the dungeon cells, crudely kicking an ancient skeleton aside as he did.

With one final *thunk* the dungeon door fell off its hinge, a cloud of dust puffing up and a deafening bang reverberated off the old stone walls. Idia cautiously peeked from his hiding spot, looking to see this new enemy…

“Whoa~!” Yume yelped as they fell through the door. A small ‘oof’ escaping them as they tripped on the door.

“Oww…” They groaned into the hard wood where they face planted. Maybe they used a little too much force on that last swing? They thought, clumsily stumbling to their feet. They gently dusted themselves off, taking extra care to clean their monogrammed hat. Yu went to adjust their glasses only to realize they weren’t on their face.

“Ah, my glasses!” They panicked for a second looking around the dark room until they found them only a few feet away. They sighed in relief, putting them back on and taking stock of their surroundings.

Yume glanced around the room, which looked to be a dungeon of sorts. A majority of the area was shrouded in shadows; only a bit of light coming from dull torches of blue flames. They could hear the slight jingling of chains as the cold air drifted through the room. Yume grimaced, their knees buckling for a second at the idea of exploring this creepy place.

Ugh! They should have gotten a flashlight like Yuuta told them. They jogged in place for a moment to calm their nerves. I’ll be okay, just some dumb little creep, I can take him! His puzzles weren’t even that difficult! Yume took a deep breath to calm down. Their face settling into one of determination.They would be fine, they just had to keep their guard up.

With that thought in mind they grabbed the handle of their hammer, pulling it from where it was wedged into the door. The old sturdy wood splintered under the head of the iron hammer head and they made a small noise of effort as they lifted the blunt weapon over their shoulder.

“Eek-!” An unknown noise echoed in the chamber.

Yume whipped their head around towards the direction of the noise, but all they could see was darkness. Their first instinct was to call out, but they hesitated for a moment. Was it an enemy? Or…maybe someone who needed help? They bit their lip unsure if they should speak…

“Hellooo? Is someone there?” They called out, their voice echoing across the chamber. They felt slightly silly at how much they sounded like a dumb horror movie victim. But if someone was here then…well…it’s not like they hadn’t heard Yu come in.

Yume waited a few seconds, but got no response. They let out a breath through their nose…guess I have to do this the hard way. With that final thought, Yu tightened their grip on their hammer as they slowly and methodically began searching the room .

Idia held his hands over his mouth. Shit that was close!! He hadn’t meant to make that noise! He scolded himself for acting like a dumb protag in horror movies, the very ones he always rolled his eyes at!

‘C’mon think, Idia think, you're better than those idiot normie throw away characters!’ He swallowed hard, finding it difficult to focus as he heard the intruder stepping around in and opening doors in the other cells. Each time getting closer and closer to his current location.. He couldn’t run away, the enchantment on the dungeon walls prevented even ghosts from phasing through them and if he tried to run through the open entrance they would definitely see him!

The footsteps came closer.

He could try to fight but without his crown he was severely underleveled! He didn’t know the stats of this intruder yet, but if what he saw on the camera was any indication they were not just some random noob! He could easily get K.O’d if he wasn’t careful!

The creak of the cell door next to his opened.

Gah-! He was running out of time he-! Idia felt himself start to hyperventilate.

The footsteps were right outside the cell.

He hated this, why couldn’t people just leave him alone!? Is what he was doing really such a crime?! He just wanted to be left alone! Why couldn’t they leave him alone? He wished he was anywhere else, he wished Ortho was here, he wished he could just disappear from the face of this earth for good!

Idia heard the door to the cell creak open and he gasped. Blinking away the tears and instinctually cowering and covering his face to hide. His bloodline powers activated automatically, making him invisible where he stood.

He held his breath as the intruder stepped around the cell, he could hear them, walking around towards each corner carefully until they got to his. They were so close, Idia could tell without even seeing them. Cautiously, he peeked through his fingers, trying to see this interloper up close…

Big brown eyes stared directly at him and he almost screamed in shock, but caught himself as he realized they couldn’t actually see him. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact regardless.

He moved his fingers aside just a bit to see them more fully.

Idia wasn’t sure what he expected, maybe a huge monster or a large buff dude but…instead this person was actually rather short…? Glasses resting on their rosy round cheeks, wavy curls framing a soft face, and a small pout their plump lips as they carefully examined the corner he was hiding in. Huh? Who…? His eyes trailed down, catching a familiar attire

Short overalls and a monogrammed hat? Yuuta wore something like this though in a different way…was this person…related to him in some way? Did he send them? Idia thoughts raced, his curiosity starting to overtake his anxiety.

If that was the case then…it's possible that they weren’t that much stronger than Yuuta… maybe they were even more of a scardy cat then him? At the thought a mischievous sharp tooth grin split on his face as he got an idea. A way to get this nuisance out of his hair AND avoid a fight with some NPC of unknown lvl. He just had to do what Boo’s did best.

As the person turned away from the corner, stepping over something and kneeling down to examine the entrance to the cell, Idia saw his chance.

Idia released his breath, making himself visible and with all the remaining strength he had left called upon his power to shift into his ghostly form. He felt his figure grow, his wispy cloak merging with his body. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as his mouth unhinged, displaying his rows of razor sharp teeth, his face twisting and distorting in an unsettling nightmarish visage. He loomed over his capture, now turned victim. Idia took a deep breath as he prepared himself to let out an unholy scream and hopefully scared them to death.

He took a step forward, getting closer and closer, waiting for just the right moment…

**Click**

Idia looked down with wide eyes, seeing the trigger of the trap release. Oh n-

Idia couldn’t even finish his thought as the trapped sprung and he yelped as metal sheets on the floor quickly folded up around him, locking him in a metal box. He couldn’t even scream as the small area encased him, forcing him to fold his body like a tetris piece just to fit.

“AHH-! WHAT THE FUCK!” He heard the intruder scream, then a loud metal thunk hit the trap.

“S-shit!” Idia choked out, finding it hard to breathe. The trap wasn’t made for someone his size in mind. He tried to shift his knees to sit in a better position.

This was fine, this was completely fine! He just had to get the remote from his pocket to release the trap. With great effort he shimmied his hand to his pocket to find…

…It empty?

“…!”

SHIT! HE MUST HAVE LEFT IT SOMEWHERE ON THE FLOOR! He had thought he would have more time to prepare before Yuuta came!

“No no nononono!” He whined and began hyperventilating again as he tried to kick and pound at the trap. Unfortunately, it was working perfectly as intended, leaving him with no hope of escaping on his own. What was he going to do?! It could be days before one of his subjects found him?!

A few seconds later three hesitant knocks on the container broke him out of his panic.

“Umh…H-hello? I-is someone in there?” Yume asked carefully, their hand on their chest to calm their still racing heart. What the fuck just happened? One second the cell was empty and then they heard a horrible loud noise? And now this metal box was here?? And it was making noises?! Where did it come from?? Did it fall from the ceiling…?

There was no response from the box. So, reluctantly, Yume leaned forward and cautiously knocked again; pressing their ear to the side of the container. A few seconds passed but this time they did manage to get a response.

“H-help…!” A feeble male voice choked out. If Yume wasn’t literally pressed up against the box they definitely wouldn’t be able to hear it. Yume gasped, placing their palm against the box.

“Help?! Who are you?! Are you okay? How can I help?!” They asked in rapid fire, their instinct to aid beginning to take over. Yu automatically grabbed their hammer, thinking maybe they could just smash the trap, but then they noticed. The spot they hit earlier didn’t even have a dent…Even if they pounded away at this thing all day; it might not budge...

“The trap is too sturdy-! I don’t think I can break it!” Yume explained. They squished their cheek up against the box; now able to hear the labored breathing of whoever was inside. Yume frowned, their worry for this person increasing with every second.

“H-Hey, it's okay, it’s okay! We’ll figure this out…!” They said, trying to calm the person. An unsure noise came from inside.

“I mean it!” They tried to reassure them again. “I heard that this guy always has an out for these kinds of things, there must be a way to free you? A-A key somewhere or-!” They did a quick once over of the cell but found nothing. Then the prisoner piped up.

“R-r-re-remote…!” His voice stuttered.

A remote? Yume thought, then like a lightbulb they remembered. A remote! Yume reached into their pocket, pulling out the strange device they had found earlier in one of the rooms upstairs. They didn’t know what it was then, but thought it seemed important. Definitely a key item! Maybe the Ghost King had dropped it and misplaced it? HA! What a total idiot!

“Hang on! I’m gonna try something!” They said, taking a few steps back.

“H-hurry…!” The voice pleaded.

Yume held the device out at arms length, leaning slightly away, and pressed their thumb down on the almost comically large red button.

A satisfying *click*, sounded. Something inside the trap whirled and the metal plating shifted rapidly as the coffin-like trap began to unfold itself. The top of the box popped open like a trapped door. A cartoonish spring noise sounded, and the person screamed as they were quickly and forcefully ejected upwards out of the trap.

“Whoa-!” Yume’s eyes followed the motion, holding on to their hat as a blur of blue flew up past them.

Idia let out a shriek as he was ejected into the air. After being tumbled around in the trap he was completely disoriented, he couldn’t tell up from down; the whole world was LITERALLY spinning. Were his traps always this messed up? A few moments later he felt a moment of equilibrium, before gravity overtook, sending him plummeting down.

He was falling? Time almost seemed to slow down around him. Since he’d inherited his crown it was a sensation he’d forgotten…Was he going to die? The thought crossed his mind matter of factly before the panic set in. N-No he couldn’t, he still had so much to do-! He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he fell, faster and faster. Idia pinched his eyes shut and tried to brace himself for the cold unforgiving stone floor…

“Gotcha!” Yume grunted, their small arms wrapping around the prisoner. Even as they caught him the force of the fall was a little too much for them and they both fell to the floor. Yume let out a groan as they fell flat on their butt. The person bouncing on their lap as Yu’s own body cushioned most of the fall. It knocked the wind out of Yume so they tried to take a few deep breaths.

“Ack!” Yume wheezed as they were suddenly squeezed in a tight hold. Long arms wrapped around their waist as the trembling prisoner clinged to them like a lifeline. Wisps of blue overtook their vision as the person buried themselves in Yume’s shoulder. They felt small panicked breaths hitting their neck as the person hyperventilated.

The sudden closeness started Yume and they were a little embarrassed, but they set that aside, their practiced heroic persona taking over.

“Hey hey, shh… it's okay…” They cooed, gently rubbing the prisoners back. Yume tried to pull them back a bit so he wasn't sitting directly on their lap. But, he flinched at the contact, letting out a small whimper. He clutched the back of Yume’s hoodie more intensely, bunching up the fabric.

Yume sighed, but relented, tentatively setting their arms around the person.

“Okay okay, you don’t have to let go.” They murmured softly, it wasn’t the first time they had to comfort a panicking victim, but usually it was only children who clingged to them like this. Though this person was clearly not a child, their tall frame almost completely enveloped Yume. If it wasn’t for how thin they were, Yume might have been knocked flat on the ground. Absent-mindedly they moved their hands around his waist. Actually, they were REALLY THIN! Yume’s brows pinched up in worry.

Idia was beside himself, he couldn’t think straight. It wasn’t the first time he had a panic attack like this, but this was one of the worse he’d had in awhile. Ironically, the only thing keeping him together right now was the very person who caused his composure to crumble in the first place. He hadn’t meant to cling to them, sure, it was a natural instinct when falling but… then he felt it…

The warmth of another living person…he had almost forgotten what it was like. Idia shivered as soft warm palms rubbed his back.

“...How long have you been here?” The intruder asked, sounding concerned.

How long? How long had he been here? In this castle; a glorified prison for his cursed family? He wasn’t thinking straight, a part of him knew that wasn’t what they meant but…

“Forever…” The words just came out.

“...I-I-’ve-” Idia struggled to speak, cringing at his own voice and giving up the thought halfway, choosing instead to steal more warmth from this person and burying his face in their neck. He caught a whiff of a fruity smell he couldn’t identify, but strangely it calmed him.

The stranger didn’t seem to mind, in fact they held him closer, a hand soothingly patting his head.

“Shh…it’s alright, I’ll protect you… '' They said the words softly, but with conviction. Even in Idia’s skeptical mind it sounded reassuring. Though, it was the next words that really got to him.

“You're not alone anymore.” The person whispered to him as if it was a promise.

Idia tensed, the words making him freeze in place. His brain jump started as he suddenly registered EVERYTHING that was happening. Where he was, who he was with, the position he was in. The scenario and sensations overwhelmed him, making him hyper aware of every stimuli in the room.

What the hell was he doing?

At the thought he pushed the intruder away, scrambling away from them.

They let out a noise of surprise at the sudden shove.

“G-get away-!” Idia choked out, all at once the warmth from before left him, sharpening his focus. Idia crawled away until his back hit the cell bars and he anxiously gripped one. Uncomfortably pushing himself into the cold steel to get as physically far away from this person as possible. NO ONE had ever made him drop his guard like that? Was it some kind of weird power? In his mind they were even more dangerous now then when they were just some OP freak with a hammer.

The push knocked Yume to the floor. They grunt in pain as they felt their elbows skinned against unforgiving stone. They recovered quickly.

“Ow! Hey! That hurt!” They growled, giving into their first instinct to get angry. They were only trying to help this person and this is what they get. Geez!

“What’s your fucking issue?!” Yume shouted as they sat up to glare at the person, puffing up their cheeks at him. Though their anger dissipated once they set eyes on this person; vaguely registering that this was the first time they could see him clearly.

Bright golden eyes trembling with fear met Yume’s. A glint of sharp teeth peaked from his mouth, nervously biting thin blue lips. His pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness. The illusion only became more prominent due to the actual flames of long blue hair; cascading wildly around his shoulders and back; framing his mature angular face.

Yume blinked twice, taking in the appearance of this person, a person who just a few seconds ago was sitting in their lap. Their face heated up now at the idea.

“Oh…You’re…” Yume started to say ‘beautiful’, but caught themselves, as they saw the man’s shoulders hike. Yu trailed off…losing their nerve to say what they wanted. They took a moment to collect themselves, clearing their throat..

“-You're safe.” Yu said, firmly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible; thought still a nervous laugh escaped them. “Y’know what, here let's uhm, start over!” They said kindly, shifting to sit on their knees. They clear their throat again, their nerves suddenly spiking as they realized they were meeting a stranger.

“ H-hi, I’m Yume Ume! Part Time Hero! ” They tried to smile, voice a little too loud and gungho; as they awkwardly put their hand out for him to shake. He jumped at the loud volume of their voice and tried to lean back even more at the quick movement. Eyes shifting back and forth at Yume’s hand, and expression, skeptically. He made no move to shake their hand, but raised an eyebrow at their introduction.

“Part time Hero”, that was the way Yuuta introduced themselves to people sometimes, too. Idia didn’t say anything but made note of it. A more pressing concern plaguing his mind right now.

“U-Uhmm…” He started speaking, cringing at his own stutter.

“A-aren’t y-you….g-gonna to attack m-me? O-or s-something” Idia muttered, he knew he should try and put on his villain persona, but his head was pounding. He felt so weak, he must have used too much of his power…

Yume’s eyebrows hiked up in surprise.

“Huh?!” They were confused for a second, so he shifted his eyes to their hammer lying in arms reach. They followed his gaze. “Oh! Oh no! No!” They said quickly, pushing the hammer away. It slid further across the floor, clunking loudly till it hit the wall.

“That’s not for you! That’s only for bad guys!” They said, holding their hands up in a placating gesture. Idia paused, his eyes widening and jaw going slack as he realized…

This person…this Yume…had no idea who he was.

“What’s your name?” They asked, further proving his assumption.

“O-oh! I..umh…” It’s been a long time since he introduced himself to anyone. Part of him understood, why would anyone want the name of some freak like him. Even the moniker of ‘Ghost King’ was given to him. Nobody, not even his subjects called him by his real name anymore…no one did, not since Ortho… He shook off the thought, not trying to go down that train of thought.

“M-my n-name-i-ts uh-!” He hesitated, bringing his knees to his chest and fiddling with his fingers. Unsure if he should tell them… In the end he decided it wouldn’t be worth the trouble of keeping up a lie.

“I-Idia j-just…Idia.” He whispered, peeking up at them through his bangs. Yume smiled at him.

“Idia…” They repeated, giving a little nod of approval. “That’s a nice name!” They said so sincerely it made Idia’s stomach churn a bit. Even so his face still heated up at the compliment, he wasn’t used to them. They went on, leaning into him a bit.

“Listen Idia, my brother, Yuuta! He sent me here to stop something the Ghost King was planning, I’ve searched this place to to bottom, but I still can’t find him, I don’t think he’s here so-”

“Wait-! YUUTA IS YOUR BROTHER?!” He asked in disbelief, leaning into them as well. Yume leaned back not expecting him to suddenly raise his voice.

“Yeah…have you met him?” They asked, raising an eyebrow.

“O-oh n-not I-I’ve just uhh…h-heard of him…! Y-yeah, talk f-from the dungeon g-guards ehehe…” He lied, chuckling nervously, pushing his index finger together to stim.Yume frowned looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

“You… must have been trapped here for a while, huh?” Then their brows furrowed. “No wonder you look so thin and pale! That guy is gonna pay!” Yume said seriously, bawling up their fists till they shook.

Idia let out a quiet noise as if he had been stabbed; any confidence he had plummeted to the floor and shattered, and he hunched in on himself.

“I c-can’t help how I look…!” He grumbled gloomily. Honestly, he had been called much worse by others, but for some reason the comments from Yume stung extra hard. He didn’t try to dwell on why.

“Ah-! Nono-! I didn’t mean-!” They tried, but Idia interrupted them.

“H-how do you plan on beating the Ghost king anyway!?” He asked, looking at them curiously. This whole thing was a big epic fail, definitely one for his cringe comp. But maybe he could get some useful information from someone so close to his nemesis.

“O-oh well!” Yume pushed up their glasses. “ Yuuta told me the last time they fought, he managed to steal the Ghost King’s crown. We didn’t know much about it or how it worked. So, I was worried it might be dangerous, y’know?” They gave a small shrug.

“Like, bro I love you. But you can’t just take freaky villain shit without knowing what it is!” They explained, and gestured their hand out as if it was an obvious conclusion. “Like that thing could be cursed for all we know!” They said, throwing their arms up dramatically.

Idia’s eyes widened and how close to the mark they were, but he didn’t say anything.

“Anywho, I took it upon myself to do a little research on the crown so my brother gave it to me and-”

“YOU HAVE MY CROWN!” Idia blurted, forgetting himself for a moment and scrambling closer to them; scanning Yume up and down to find it. Their posture turned a bit sheepish, seeming to be nervous at suddenly having Idia’s full attention.

“Oh no not on me I- '' Yume paused, Idia’s words catching up with them.

“Your crown?” They repeated, tilting their head and looking at Idia with narrow eyes. Idia let out a noise of shock, only now realizing what he had said as well.

“O-oh! I meant- W-what I meant is um-” He stumbled over his words, bawling his hands to his chest. Unable to come up with a lie to cover it. HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID! He internally screamed at himself.

“Wait a second…yellow eyes…and blue flames….” Yume said, their eyes carefully scanning over his features, he could practically see the gears turning in their head…

GAH, THIS WAS IT HE WAS SO DONE FOR! GAME, SET, MATCH! Idia’s eyes darted around, back once again in trying to find a way out of this situation. But there was nothing he could do, even if he ran they would definitely catch him.

“You…you're…” Yume continued. And Idia swallowed nervously, pinching his eyes shut and preparing his mental tombstone: “Death by hammer”.

“...A SHROUD!” Yume said confidently with a look of awe on their face.

“Huh?!” Idia said dumbfounded, his body untensing. It wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

“Yeah..?” Idia nodded.”H-how did you know?” He asked genuinely surprised. His family was considered the stuff of legends. They weren’t recorded in any historic literature; at least not traditionally. Whispers of the Shrouds only came up in myths or sometimes tales of cautions.

Yume gasped, doing an excited little dance at being correct. Then they propped their hands on their hips, looking proud that their prediction was true.

“I KNEW IT! Well not ‘knew it’, but it all makes sense!” They began speaking passionately.

“All the books I read about the crown mentioned a family with ghostly powers that passed down the crown from generation to generation! Some books even theorized that the bloodline had ended long ago, but they were all so ambiguous and never had definitive proof! A story that inspired so much mythology couldn’t have been based on a simple fairy tale! Gosh, I can’t believe it!” They rambled on passionately. Idia simply watched them, overwhelmed but…unable to take his eyes off them.

“Um-.” He tried, but Yume went on, speaking quickly and manically.

“And AND, you’ve been imprisoned here all this time! The Ghost King appeared only a few years ago, so that’s when he must have stolen it and learned how to unlock the secrets of your crown! By imprisoning you! AM I RIGHT?” They asked, sitting up on their knees leaning in only an inch from his face.

Idia laughed nervously, blushing at how close they were now. It took him a few seconds to process everything they said. They had really crafted this whole narrative in their head without Idia saying anything. But the scary thing was how almost accurate their theory was. Sure, they were just missing a few crucial details. But…they didn’t need to know that.

“T-that’s right!” He lied, nodding quickly to agree with them. Yume’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, and for just a second, Idia found himself having to hold back a genuine laugh at their expression. It was the same face he made when his favorite TV show theory got confirmed.

“Oh my gosh…what a conspiracy! Yuuta’s never gonna believe this!” They murmured to themself. “Like, ‘Hey bro, that thing we’re using as a paper weight at home, it's a legendary artifact of darkness from a royal family. Hey, who would have thought; not me!” Yume said, mocking out the conversation

“W-what, you just have it at your house-! Wh- A PAPER WEIGHT?!” He spluttered indignantly. “YOUR USING MY FAMILY CROWN AS A PAPERWEIGHT!?”

“I mean…yeah.” Yume shrugged, tilting their head and sheepishly grinning at him. Idia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity.

“I need it back!” He said desperately, even going as far to reach over and tug a little on their sleeve.

“A-ah okay okay, we can get it back…” Yume said, placatingly patting his hand. Their faced scrunched up in thought. “Hmm…well actually it's kinda of a long trip there and back…just going home for me is gonna be a journey in itself.” They murmured thinking to themselves for a few seconds, before their eyes widened; a creative sparkle to them.

“Oh I know! Here’s an idea!” They smiled. “You need your crown back and I need more info on the Ghost King! So, If you're willing to, I can escort you out of this place, and you can come back home with me to retrieve it!” They said.

“Hm?!” Idia’s first instinct was to grimace at the idea of leaving his land. Yume noticed his expression.

“Hear me out…!” They said, carefully placing a hand atop Idia’s. Idia noticed it, but decided not to yank his hand away to keep up appearance. The warmth was already spreading through his skin, even with his gloves on. Yume continued.

“This way we both can get what we need and besides I…well…” Yu looked away shyly.

“I wouldn’t feel right leaving you behind-!” Idia watched their face flush a bit.

“I mean-! S-someone who's never really been out in the world on their own! It would be hard to fend for yourself!” They flusteredly explained, looking back to him.

“I have connections back home too, people who can help get you settled back into society…you must have been so scared and lonely…” They trailed off, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before continuing.

“So…what do you say?” Yume asked, looking up at him through their long eyelashes, they almost looked…nervous? Idia didn’t understand why.

“Uhm…” He looked down, avoiding their gaze as he processed their words. They didn’t seem to mind; not pressuring him for a quick answer. He took a minute, running through all the possible scenarios in his head and came to a conclusion. His gut instinct was to tell them no, thank them for saving him and run off; when the “ghost was clear” pun intended. He could just return back to his castle and fortify his defenses. And apt strategy…however…This might be his best and only chance to get the crown back…and he needed it soon if his plans were ever going to come to fruition. He knew could never get it back with a full frontal attack, not with his debuff status ...but a stealth mission….that could work…he just had to play pretend, he could do that. He did that all the time as a child and even now.

Idia turned to them, doing his best to maintain eye contact.

“O-okay…I-i'll take you up on the offer…p-please take care of me.” He stuttered, doing his best to give them a warm pleasant smile and not be “positively creepy” and “wonderfully unnerving” as he’d been told it was by his subjects. Gently, he gave the tiniest squeezed in return to Yume's hand.

Either Yume was a big weirdo or he did a halfway decent job, because they beamed at him, looking relieved.

“Great!” And they grinned, as if he had told them the best news in the world. They helped him to his feet as he shakily stood; smiling at him for a few moments longer before they seemed to remember themselves, looking away and chuckling nervously.

“Well then-!” Yume heaved up their hammer. A glint of what Idia recognized as magic sparkled for just a moment as they wound up a big swing towards a crack on the wall.

*BOOM*

Idia jumped and let out a noise of surprise as a large section of the castle dungeon wall crumbled.

The dawn of the morning sun shone on the horizon and the birds chirped, signaling the start of a new day. It was so bright Idia had to shield his eyes and instinctively tried to take a step back into the shadows. Through the cracks of his fingers he saw Yume holding out their hand. The rays of light from the sun enveloping them and glinting off their glasses, making their warm olive skin almost seem to glow.

Yume smiled at him with a kindness he’d never seen from a stranger…

“Let’s go!” They said cheerfully, flexing their hands for Idia to take.

Their words broke him out of his stupor of awe and he stumbled towards them, nearly tripping over the debris, but at the last second Yu caught him, lacing their hands together to stabilize him. Idia blushed as they locked eyes, seeing nothing but pure sincerely on their face. How could they be like that with someone they just met, weren’t they embarrassed? Idia looked away, but couldn’t help but notice that somehow Yume’s palm felt warmer than the burning sun on his face.

As they began climbing carefully down the hill of the crumbling rocks, Idia couldn’t help but wonder what kind of mess he was getting himself into.

It was fine…he just had to stick to the plan.

No mess, no strings attached, just play pretend…that's all.

UI: IDIA HAS RELUCTANTLY JOINED THE PARTY!

#twisted wonderland #twst au #twst oc #smau #twst smau #myau #yume ume #idia shroud #disney twisted wonderland #oc x canon #yuusona #mywriting #myart #pumpkingart #nightlight and starshine #even in this au lol #might be a few mistakes grammar wise but oh well

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