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jyoongim · 2 months

Note

This is more of an idea (feel free to not respond btw)

But what if married reader gets knocked up with Alastors fawn and the husband divorced her once he realizes the baby isn’t his? You can bet your ass that the deer daddy is already trying to ensnare the reader in his grasp lol

Hehehe i have never written a Part 2 so fast !

Part 1

————————————————————————

“Oh my Satan dear! Look at you! Ya look like you’re bout to pop!” Rosie exclaimed when you walked in her shop.

’Pop’ was an understatement.

You were very near the end of your pregnancy and it had not been kind to you.

You never told your husband about the incident with Alastor.

Would he had even believed you?

Alastor was A LOT of things, but the two of you were friends…your husband would think call you insane….

Your eyes widened seeing the very cause of your discomfort.

Alastor.

You wanted to dash out the door, run back home and hide.

The red Overlord turned around, hearing Rosie’s voice, you froze seeing his eyes look you over, you instinctively placed a hand over your stomach when his lips stretched into a smile.

You heard Rosie excuse herself to go get some appetizers but you were too focused to acknowledge her.

You were alone.

With him.

You took a shaky breath as memories from several months ago flashed across your mind, but you shook your head lightly to discard those thoughts.

”My my look at you” he purred approaching until he towered over you, beaming like a Cheshire cat “You really do make a fine mother” his large hand caressed the swell of your belly, smile softening when he felt movement.

”j-just leave me be please” you whispered, wincing when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

Alastor chuckled ”leave you be? Oh ma cherie no can do!”

He bent his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice dropping to a whisper “especially since you’re about to give birth to my baby?”

You pushed him away, putting distance between the two of you. Your face was flushed, eyes narrowed “I am NOT having your baby! I am having my husband’s baby!” You defended.

But there was a sliver of doubt you always felt when it came to the little soul nestled within you.

Alastor’s smile never wavered “Hmm you sure? Because i remember vividly filling your cunt with my seed until it dripped down your legs”

You froze.

”You took me so well I was positive you would be pregnant”

He took small steps towards you

”Did you tell your husband?”

Your snarl fell at his words and he knew he had you.

”T-there’s n-nothing to tell” you said turning around, ready to leave.

You didnt have to take this.

He hummed coming up behind you. “Nothing to tell?” He chuckled darkly as his lanky arms wrapped around you, cradling your swollen belly. He leaned his head on top of yours.

”Oooh darlin I’m hurt! You didnt tell your loving husband how you milked my cock? How I tasted the cunt that belonged to him? How I claimed you for myself? That I sent you home filled with my cum?”

You were shaking.

”How unfaithful you were? Could the poor man tell another man’s cum was inside you while he fucked you?”

He kissed your neck

”I can’t wait to meet our little fawn”

Your baby kicked causing him to smile.

————————————————————————-

Pain.

Thats all you felt as you tried to breath through your contraction.

”You got this honey! You’re doing great” your husband soothed as you wailed.

”One more push maam the baby’s almost here” the nurse reassured you.

Almost? It felt like you been pushing forever

”I cant” you panted.

Everything burned.

Your husband dabbed at your sweaty forehead, pressing a kiss to it “You got this baby. C’mon just one more push and then it’ll all be over”

Your eyes clenched and with a scream you pushed.

”Aaahh!”

Relief and then the shrill cry of a baby.

The nurses cooed “Ooh a healthy boy!”

she cleaned up the baby and you sighed as you slumped against the bed.

Finally.

”Ok mama” you felt a small weight on your chest.

Soft noises had you look down and you felt your heart break and bloom.

Red tufts of hair curled on the babe’s head and he looked at you with big red eyes.

He looked like you; round cheeks and a cute nose.

He looked nothing like your husband.

And every bit like…

”what the fuck” you heard your husband say. You turned to him, eyes wide.

He was staring at the baby.

”I-Its n-not what you think dear j-just let me-”

”You fucked Alastor” he was frowning, standing up from the bed.

You shook your head, tears swelling

”N-no that’s…I didnt i swear”

”I am looking at his exact copy. The damn brat looks nothing like me!”

You couldnt move “Honey p-please”

The man backed away. He was angry.

The baby began to cry, you tried to rock the poor soul, but your attention was on your husband

”Honey-”

”I should have known” he hissed lowly, pacing.

”I should have known by the way he acted. How you flirted with each other! The fucking radio demon!? Tsk!”

He turned to look at you.

”I dont want some bitch who takes me for a fool. Hope it was worth it you fucking slut” he turned to walk out.

tears ran down your face, your heart was racing “W-What? Honey no it wasn’t like that..it-it was never-”

”I want a divorce. You are dead to me”

and like that he was gone.

You sat there stunned.

Your husband just…left.

He left you and he didn’t even let you explain, tell him how or why all this was happening.

The baby cooed and you looked down at him.

You wanted to be angry, you had every right to be, but looking at this sweet soul…he didnt deserve your anger.

You were a mother now. You would do your best to love your child.

Even if you had to do it alone.

————————————————————————————-

“What a fine mother you make indeed my dear”

He smiled watching the little fawn latch to your chest and stare back at him with vermillion eyes.

You hissed at him, earning a quirked brow “haven’t you done enough?”

Soft static buzzed through the air as the Overlord approached you. You took a step back, as he extended a hand to the babe and rubbed his chubby cheek.

Alastor ignored your question ”How are you feeling love?” He asked as the baby nuzzled into your neck.

How were you feeling?

You were divorced, a single mother, and living with Rosie.

Shunned.

All because of him.

”Like hell but I know you’re not here to ask about my well being”

Alastor ignored your jab.

”I do care for you darlin and its only right that I provide for you and our fawn”

You went to growl, threaten him to die, but your baby reached out to the red demon.

Alastor’s face light up and he grabbed the fawn, cooing and tickling the baby.

Your son squealed and giggled, trying to grab at his claws.

”Let’s make a deal dearest”

You straightened at his words. A deal with Alastor was dangerous.

But you were at rock bottom.

”What kind of deal?” You asked cautiously.

”Marry me. Marry me and you’ll have nothing to be worried about. You’ll be protected, cared for, and have anything you desire.”

The baby was gumming at his collar.

”Be mine”

You bit your lip. What did you have to loose?

You sighed, taking your son.

You looked at the tall demon, green magic swirling around him.

”Do we have a deal?” he extend his hand.

You looked at your baby and then back at Alastor.

”I hate you” you said taking his hand,

You winced as your hand burned and watched a gold ring appear on your finger.

Radio static buzzed and then a soft humming. Alastor purred, smiling, fixing his jacket.

“Oh my dear” His arm looped around your waist, bringing you close to him as he chuckled “Such a good girl”

“Now! I think I have the perfect place for us to raise our fawn”

—————————————————————————————

“Uggghh Al you got a little something…” Charlie said nervously as she watch Alastor sip his coffee.

The little red fawn was hanging on his antlers, happily gnawing at the appendages. Alastor looked up, smiling “Oh he’s fine”

”Alastor have you seen…” your voice floated into his ears as you entered the lobby, stopping when you saw your son among his father’s antlers.

Alastor let out a grunt as the baby pulled at his ears “Hes right here dear”

Your baby babbled as you approached, squealing when you plucked him from his father.

You scowled the Overlord, placing the baby on your hip.

”How many times have I told you not to just let him hang-”

”da-”

You froze.

“Da…da” your son babbled, squirming in your arms.

Charlie cooed and Alastor smirked as the fawn’s eyes welled with tears as he reached for his father. Alastor walked towards you, scooping the baby from you.

You pouted as the baby happily chirped, nuzzling in his father’s neck.

Alastor sneaked a soft kiss to your lips

“See he’s fine”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, arms crossing.

”Oh smile my dear. Maybe the next one will say mama first” he laughed, eyes settling on your round belly.

”After all you’re a great mother”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut

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thefact0rygirl · 3 years

Text

ROUGH BOY, SWEET WORDS | Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: praise kink, affirmation play (is that a thing?), tied up/restrained hands, mention of face sitting, grinding, teasing, penetrative sex (p in v), cowgirl, creampie, alluding to a breeding kink, cockwarming, soft!din

Summary: Din just wants to be held and whispered words of affirmation. He just doesn’t know it.

{masterlist} {cross-posted on ao3}

Din Djarin has no qualms praising you and showering you with affection, but struggles when you return that same affection.

And "struggles” is putting it lightly.

He is a Mandalorian, a warrior. Being treated like porcelain is the exact opposite of what has been ingrained into him.

Din is also your partner, your riduur. It has taken him so long to become comfortable with the idea that someone as morally grey as him could be likened to a rare stone in another person’s eyes. Over time, he has let down his walls to bathe in your warmth and affection, but there are still moments when he shies away from it.

Like now.

Since reuniting Grogu with the Jedi, Din has grown wary of your compassion and sincerity. It feels alienating to him, like it’s wrong for him to accept love when your little clan is torn apart. With your ad’ika gone and your lives in shambles, Din slowly returns to the one stability he knows all too well: roughness.

Rough bounties, rough words, rough hands.

Reuniting with his old persona as the big, bad bounty hunter, he finds shallow solace in insults and the camouflage his beskar provides. It’s what he knows best.

Even sex is rough with Din manhandling you in place as he fucks his frustrations out onto you. Not that you don’t enjoy it, oh no. Not at all. Rough Din hits different, but you're worried about him. He is in a state of perpetual tension, shying away whenever you go for something gentler. It’s hard to miss the way he stiffens whenever you try to adore him with genuine flattery.

It’s then in a rented room on Nevarro that you decide to try something different to make him feel your love. You know he is expecting something kinky when you use your old blindfold to tie his hands to the bedpost. You don’t confirm or deny his assumptions either, opting instead to straddle his head between your thighs, riding his face until he is drenched in your release.

Sliding down his body, you hover over his hips until your pussy is inches away from his throbbing cock. You coo his name like it’s a melody until he looks at you. The room is dim, save for a small lamp in the corner, but to Din, you look like the sun itself, sweat shimmering off your body like the finest silk.

With a coy smile, you ignite his world when you lower your hips until his cock is nestled against your heat. He gasps when he feels your pussy pulsing against his shaft, desire ripping through his veins as his nerves crackle in pleasure.

Din’s hands twitch against the restraining cloth that keeps him mounted to the bedpost. He could easily break through the flimsy material, you both know that. All it takes is a flick of his wrists for the fabric to tear before he does the same to you.

But he doesn’t.

He stays put, watching as you gyrate against him.

The restraints were figurative, anyway, something you wanted to try and he was more than happy to oblige if it meant seeing you in such a salacious position. So luxurious, so spoiled with your head thrown back as you use his body for your pleasure.

Tugging on your nipples, you pant out, “Stars, I love your cock.”

You start small with your praise, a simple comment he’s heard countless of times before. Something to add that extra spark to your rocking hips, but not enough to scare him.

You don’t expect him to respond, and your guess is correct. Din groans in response, letting the comment roll off of him without a second thought. Your mouth is open in an ‘o’ and all he can imagine is shoving his cock down your throat.

“Yeah? My pretty baby wants her pussy stuffed?”

A low gasp escapes you when Din’s thighs twitch under you, the sudden movement causing the head of his cock to catch against your clit.

Biting your lip, you nod, “I love your body. You’re so big, so strong.”

Now that gets a reaction out of him. His brain stutters for a moment as every part of him pauses. His body stiffens under you, but doesn’t reply.

Din tries to reason with himself as each drag of your hips propels him farther in arousal. You don’t know what you’re saying. He doesn’t even know if you really did say…that. Your pussy is throbbing so hard against him he wonders if this is actually a wet dream. Probably best to just avoid it all together.

Yeah, just don’t say anything.

But then you lower yourself until your hard nipples are pressing into his scarred chest. Nuzzling your face over his heart, words continue to spill from your mouth, “I love your scars. I know you hate them, but I adore them. They mean you fought and survived.”

Without his helmet, Din is an open book. You see it when he averts his eyes to the ceiling, his tan skin flushing to a rosy brown. You could practically hear his mind puttering, the gears working overtime, to rationalize your words as if they were some riddle.

Because why else would his riduur see anything but adoration and love for him? Right?

Before he can fall further into his unease, your finger tips rub light circles around his nipples as you pucker your lips to assemble a line of kisses. Starting at his sternum you kiss up his neck, over his Adam’s apple, and stopping to lick up your cum that soaks his chin.

Din wilts from your touch. Your skin is so soft, your kisses so delicate, he whimpers as he feel your hands move to cradle his head. He just wants to feel you, run his rough hands against your silk skin, revel in your softness and forget about the nonsense spewing from your mouth. The bedpost squeaks as he tugs against the cloth.

Feeling your thumb resting at the corner of his mouth, he turns until he places a kiss against the finger pad, as if trying to push away his uneasiness.

Feeling your breath on the shell of his ear, you confess quietly, “You’re so much stronger than you think and you amaze me, Din.”

Embarrassment and confusion blend together until they form a strangled protest in his chest, working its way up his throat. He should be the one praising you, not you praising him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, pushing his face into your hand in an attempt to hide the blooming red tint on his cheeks.

“Doing what?” Your hips continue to rock in a steady pace.

“The compliments.” He voice grits out like it’s dragging across sandpaper.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He lets out a breath, “I…” He stops, not answering the question.

Din shies away from the praise instinctively, having trouble reconciling his self-esteem with the way the remarks make his cock twitch. He feels warm and tingly, draped under a pleasant haze of affection, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it.

But he wants to. He wants to so fucking bad. After everything that has happened, he wants to feel okay. He wants to hear words of affirmation from one of the only beings in this forsaken galaxy that matters.

You.

He wants to hear your voice, even if he isn’t ready to admit it. So, he shuts his eyes, his hips involuntarily twitching as you continue to grind against him. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Weaving your hands in his hair, you tug on the curly brown mess at the nape of his neck. You bury your nose against his neck, inhaling his comforting blend of musk, soap, and metal.

“I love your smell.”

Your tongue drags along the protruding vein on his neck, following it down to the dip between his neck and shoulder.

“And the way you taste.”

Din calls out your name in an attempt to fight off the warmth of your words, but his throat betrays him, constricting to keep his protests down.

“And, stars, the sounds you make,” You moan, sucking tiny bruises into his flesh. “Those little whines when you come. I think about those when you’re gone.”

You lift your head so your lips ghost over his. You’re so close and your words are making his stomach churn as blood rushes to his weeping member.

There’s something in the way you keep grinding against him paired with your sweet words that reminds him of his better self. The one that traveled all across the galaxy, risked his life, all to reunite a little, green boy with his people. He wants to drink your words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling of intoxication.

He lifts his head up to attempt to kiss you, but you sit you up before he can. With your hands letting go of his hair, Din trashes his head to the side at the miss. You don’t miss the way his tenses in anticipation.

“Cyare,” He insists, rosy cheeks turning bright red.

“My strong and beautiful riduur.”

“Okay, stop.” Din pants, arms pushing forward to break free.

You don’t miss the sound of breaking threads and you shove his chest with enough force to push him back into the mattress.

“No,” You growl, eyes narrowing at him.

Eyes widening in disbelief, he chokes out, “Fucking tease.”

“I just can’t enough of you.” You move your arms behind you, hands holding onto his thick thighs as you arch your back and rut faster against him.

“But you know what’s my favorite?”

You don’t wait for an answer, you weren’t expecting one. You just keep rocking against him, coating him in your wetness until he’s soaked, your juices dripping down to his balls.

“When you cum inside me. I love it when you drip from me. Stars — feeling your seed filling me, I feel so close to you.”

“Stop,” Hr grunts your name. “Just, f-fuck—S-stop. Before I cum.”

Din hisses for the split second that cool air hits his cock before it’s enveloped again in warmth. Smirking down at him, you hold him tightly in your hand as you lower yourself down, wincing at the familiar stretch as he fills you.

Finally feeling your pulsing cunt consume him, Din lets out a surprise grunt, his hips jumping up, and you have to give him a second to get under control.

“Fuck, cyare,” He whispers, struggling not to melt back into the bed as you grip him like a silk glove, your inner muscles flexing around his intruding length.

Not wasting a second, you start swaying immediately. You’re both too desperate to go slow anymore, you’ve been at this for ages now. Din leans his head back, tilting his chin to take in the breathtaking sight of you, blissed out and lost in the growing pleasure between your legs. Your body rolls with your movements as you bounce on his cock, your breasts jiggling from the force of your hips. Din can’t help but moan at the thought that his tattered body could bring you so much bliss.

Din is close to his own release, his orgasm carrying him along the edge of climax. And then you start up again with saccharine words.

“Feel how wet I am, Din?”

“That’s all you, riduur. Only you can do that.”

Cracking your eyes open, you look down to see Din’s skin colored red in embarrassment. He can only nod, eyes screwing shut as he tries to gain control of himself. He is so close after being teased for so long. He jerks his hips upward, impatient.

You want to whisper more praise at him. You don’t want to stop until he feels your love, but for now you stop. Din is still hiding, breathing heavily as his hips move in involuntary motions, hard cock throbbing desperately inside of you.

Leaning down to nip at his ear, you listen to his breath shake, as you bounce on his lap. His cock is easily sliding in and out of you from how wet you are. You’re soaked.

“Din,” You call, kissing the side of his mouth. “D—Din. Look at me.”

He groans, but follows your request. His pupils are blown out from need and a haze of conflict clouds his brown irises. For all the teasing and mixed emotions your words bring him, he craves them.

He craves you.

Your loving eyes, your soft whispers, the purple patches you paint on his neck — they’re the things that show him he is in your thoughts. He watches your eyes as you look at him like he has the stars in his hands. You are just as consumed in him as he is of you. If he captivates you, then he will happily be your captive.

In that moment, all he wants is to touch you. Add a physical stability to your words. He wants to roll between the vowels, let the words sear into his skin like another one of his scars.

“What is it, Din?”

He shudders, pushing his chest up against yours, desperate for the skin to skin contact. “I—I want…Keep talking, but just let me — L-Let me touch you.”

Nodding, you move to the bedpost, but Din is faster. He pushes forward, tearing your old blindfold to shreds while pushing his upper half up until he is sitting up. His hands hold your back to steady you from the sudden movement and to keep you still impaled on his cock.

With you cradled in his arms, his lips crash down to yours. It’s messy, but steeped in a passion that ignites the purest and most vulnerable versions of yourselves. It’s between your moving tongues that there is a promise of realness that Din embraces, allowing your affirmations to crack his defenses.

Pulling away, he sees love in your eyes, and when you speak, he welcomes the burning on his cheeks, rolling around in honeyed words.

“I love you. You’re so strong, so beautiful.”

You sit up straighter, bouncing in Din’s lap. You dig your heels into the bedspread to gain momentum, but you had been at this for an hour, riding his thigh, tying him up, and your movements get jerky and unsteady as the sensation grows more pleasurable.

“I love you, too,” Din gasps, dropping his head until he is hunched into you. You’re wrapped around him, his protective cocoon, as his breath tattoos Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum into your skin.

“D—Din! Oh, stars,” You babble into his hair. “So close…”

He growls at the announcement, pulling away from you as he propels himself forward to push you into the bed. You’re now under him, your legs instinctively locked around his waist.

You’re right where he wants you. You’ve had your fun, now it’s his turn. Holding himself up, he slams back inside your tight pussy.

You cry out, your body seizing and shaking and you struggle to keep your eyes open so you can watch Din’s reaction.

His lips are bruised and red, hanging open on sounds of pleasures and ragged inhales. His eyelashes fan out over his flushed cheeks and his hair is slick and mussed on the top of his head.

“F—Fuck, how did I deserve this?” Din cracks, watching you trapped under him. He’s driving his hips against yours, your body thrusting up from the force of his snapping hips. He may be the one on top, but you are in control. With your little whines and adoring eyes, you’re squeezing his heart and setting his lungs is on fire.

Chanting his name like a prayer, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he loses control. There is no rhythm and rhyme to it, he just fucks you deeper and harder. It’s too easy for him to lose himself to you, in you.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes screwing shut as he feels his length enter you, going deeper with each thrust.

“You’re lovely. Love you so much,” You tell him and Din sobs, clutching at you tighter to him.

“Riduur, my riduur.”

Your heart skips. Not from his words, but the way his voice shakes with the first vowel before entirely shattering my the end. It’s the little whines that escape him as he fucks you harder into the mattress, his need for you spilling into something so powerful he can’t help but moan.

As Din’s movements become more frantic, you lodge a hand between your bodies and find your clit, rubbing sloppy circles until you moan. The growing arousal ignites your core, ripping through your body as your walls clench around him. Your muscles shake as the wetness between your legs pools, splashing against Din’s groin as you ride out your peak.

“G-good girl, milk my cock,” Din whispers, chasing his own release.

His own orgasm takes him by surprise. He can feeling it building, but he doesn’t expect it when his balls draw up and his cock throbs, hot liquid spilling inside of you.

It’s intense — more intense than it has any right to be.

Moaning, he paints your walls white. He continues thrusting through his orgasm, a meager attempt to push his seed deeper inside of you. Maybe even deep enough to reach your womb…

You move against each other, involuntary, shallow shivers as your orgasms drag out, pulling pleasure from ever nerve inside of you.

“You’re beautiful.” You say, swallowing precarious gulps of air.

You drop your legs from his waist, releasing at least part of him from your hold. But he doesn’t move, staying lodged between you as he softens.

Din lets out a dry chuckle, “You’re going to have to wait for round two.”

“I mean it, Din,” You say so much conviction, he is unsure of what to say.

He leans towards you, pressing his lips against yours in soft kiss. You smile gently at the connection and lay back, pulling Din to follow you as he remains inside of you. He lays his head against your chest, letting your erratic heartbeat lull him in a peaceful state.

He whispers, “I know.”

mando’a translations

Riduur - spouse, partner, husband, wife

Ad’ika - little one, son or daughter at any age

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - I love you (literally, “I know you forever.”)

Cyare - beloved

taglist: @thundersheild @itsjammin @justanotherblonde23 @ladyjenny19 @tibbietibbs @zombiexbody @stardust-galaxies @tenderclio @maulpunk @kat-r-in @tibbietibbs

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#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x yn #din djarin x ofc #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian x yn #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x ofc #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x yn #pedro pascal fanfic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfic

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dudeandduchess · 4 years

Text

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Breeding Kink (Smut, Kinktober, NSFW Scenario)

Warnings: Smut, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Daddy Kink

MASTERLIST

***

“Good morning, my love,” Kyōjurō whispered softly against his wife’s neck, peppering her delicate skin with tiny, fleeting kisses that trailed all the way up to her left ear. He then nipped down on the tender flesh and proceeded to tease it with nibbles and licks, earning a soft hum of pleasure from (Y/n).

Her soft mewls— and the way that she arched into his body— had him feeling much needier for her than he was before; cock getting much harder, and his urge to breed his wife once more flaring up within him.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now,” The young man whispered against the shell of his wife’s ear, trailing the tip of his tongue against the outline of it and smirking when he heard her breath hitch in her throat. “I promise I’m going to knock you up so good; fill you up with so much cum that you’ll be such a mess.”

(Y/n) could only hum in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, pulling him down even further against her naked body so she could latch her lips onto his left shoulder; biting down on his pale skin and relishing the heady feel of his cock twitching with need against her lower abdomen. “Please, Daddy. I want you to breed me. I need to feel your cock inside me.”

It didn’t take long at all for Kyōjurō to give in to his wife’s wishes; first letting the fingers on his left hand delve within her pussy— index and middle fingers scissoring within her wet cunt, and his thumb rubbing circles against her clit in a tantalizing motion.

His actions had her hips bucking into his touch; desperate to have more of him than he was already giving her. But it was necessary to tease her, if only to get her ready for his thick cock.

But the payoff was blissful, as Kyōjurō pulled his fingers out of his wife and used her slick to coat up his shaft; at least, somewhat. Then, he encircled the base of his dick in his left hand; guiding the head to run up and down her slit, smearing his pre-cum all over her cunt, before using the underside of his cock to spank her clit repeatedly.

Every hit had her crying out softly, with her nails digging into his skin, while her legs tensed up on either side of his hips.

“Please, Daddy. I need to you to fuck me now,” (Y/n) almost sobbed in desperation, feeling her toes curl as Kyōjurō pressed the underside of his cock flush against her slit and slid it down to tease her all the more. However, instead of sliding it back up to get an even more desperate reaction from her, he placed the head of his cock against her opening and pushed it inside her with his thumb.

“Fuck,” The young man gasped out, not expecting his wife’s walls to clamp down on the head of his cock. He didn’t even want to move, fearing that the intense pleasure that he felt would end.

But when she relaxed her walls around his length, he began to thrust up inside her— pushing his cock all the way to the hilt and fucking into her gently. He made sure that he hit her cervix with every thrust, as it was a sensitive part that had her moaning for more.

Every inch of him wanted nothing more than to take her rough and hard— like he had the night before— but he didn’t have it inside him to get her so fucked out when both of them had to get ready for work in the next half hour.

If only they had more time, then he wouldn’t even let her out of bed. He’d just keep fucking her until he was sure that she was pregnant.

His thrusts were gentle and even, stroking her cervix pleasurably with every pump of his cock inside her; and eliciting such sinful moans from (Y/n)’s lips. It was such a heady feeling that Kyōjurō found himself getting lost in their rhythm; especially when he sealed his lips against his wife’s and began to pick up the pace— all so he could chase both of their orgasms.

However, they didn’t cum at the same time.

(Y/n) reached her climax first; feeling every inch of her body succumbing to the white hot pleasure of her orgasm coursing through her. It had her unlatching her lips from her husband’s, as she cried out his name in a keening moan.

And it didn’t take long for the aforementioned husband to follow suit. Kyōjurō pushed his hips flush against (Y/n)’s as soon as his cum started to spurt from his cock in thick ropes; trying to prolong his orgasm by rutting against her in the most minute of motions.

And by the time that he was done filling his wife with his seed, he was so breathless— yet so happy as he felt his warm cum coating his wife’s walls.

“I can’t wait to see you pregnant, my love.”

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samadiw · 3 years

Text

Drunken mistakes and dire consequences 🔥🖤

A smutty drabble 🔥😘

Draco comes out of the bathroom, a trail of hot steam follows him into the common room.

The area smells manly and intoxicating.

Hermione watches the Head boy and frowns.

Fuck his fit body and arrogant attitude.

Her eyes rove over his firm body hungrily, she bites her lip, he catches her looking and smirks.

D : "Going out, Granger?"

Hermione cocks her head to the side and sneers.

H : "None of your business."

Draco towels his hair, water droplets fly in all directions and a few land on Hermione.

D : "Is it a coincidence that I find you standing in front of our shared bathroom?"

Hermione narrows her eyes.

H : "I don't give a flying fuck what you think, I need to use the loo."

Draco chuckles and blocks her path.

D : "Fiesty, why the cold shoulder, do you miss our morning fuck?"

Hermione steps away from the bloody sinful smell and fires back.

H : "Fuck you, Malfoy, in your bloody dreams."

Draco drawls seductively.

D : "Ah, you already did that, remember how you lowered yourself on to my cock and rode me till I was spent?"

He steps closer and teases.

D : "I would be happy to jog your memory, if you like."

Hermione hisses.

H : "I was drunk and no thank you, I don't repeat my mistakes."

Draco let's out a sarcastic laugh and muses.

D : "Drunk? Were you now? Because, I remember a very receptive witch moaning in pleasure and bouncing on my dick."

Hermione bares her teeth. The bloody bastard.

H : "Consider it a drunken mistake and move on."

Draco grins and shakes his head.

D : "Oh, I wish it were that simple."

He closes the gap between them and pushes the unsuspecting witch up against the wall and presses his body flush against hers.

Hermione tries in vain to push away the imposing man but he doesn't move an inch.

She struggles and demands.

H : "Let me go, Malfoy."

Draco hisses darkly.

D : "Are you heading out with Weasley?"

His hand disappears under her skirt and she feels his long fingers caress the outer material of her underwear.

Hermione gasps but manages to reply.

H : "That is none of your business, get your filthy hands off me."

D : "Filthy? I'll show you just how filthy they are when I lick your cum off my fingers."

Draco increases the pressure and presses the flat of his thumb over Hermione's material covered clit.

D : "Besides, I can't stop touching you and quite frankly, I don't think you want me to."

Don't give in, Hermione, she silently berates herself but it was only a matter of time before she fell apart.

She musters every bit of remaining self control and snarls.

H : "Let me go, Malfoy, I'm warning you."

Draco smirks.

D : "Warning me? Do you have any idea how wet you are?"

She hated that he was right.

Draco uses his free hand to rip open her blouse, he pulls a bra cup down, frees a breast and takes the rock hard nipple in his mouth.

He twirls his tongue around the eager bud and grazes it with his teeth.

Oh, fuck....

Hermione whimpers

H : "Please...."

Draco brings his head up and kisses Hermione fervently, he parts her lips and pushes his tongue against hers forcefully.

Breathlessly, he asks in frustration.

D : "Does he touch you like I do?"

Hermione is a quivering mess, she protests weakly.

H : "I don't want you, Ron is my...."

Draco turns Hermione around, bends her over the nearest table and smacks her bare arse.

Her skin wobbles delightfully and blood rushes to where his hand connected with her creamy white buttocks.

She cries out in pain and he smacks her again and demands.

D : "Answer the fucking question."

Hermione struggles to control her rapid breathing.

H : "Go to hell, Malfoy."

Draco smirks triumphantly.

D : "Fine, have it your way."

His fingers part her soaking knickers and gently caresses the inner folds

D : "Such a dirty little Head girl, aren't you?"

Hermione closes her eyes and a sultry moan escapes her lips.

Draco grabs Hermione by the waist and slams her into the wall by the bookshelf.

His breath ghosts the inner shell of her ear and a shiver goes down her spine.

D : "Did you think you could sleep with me, let me have you and then toss me aside?"

Draco pins Hermione's hands above her head and crushes his lips with hers.

It's a bruising, punishing kiss.

He growls between heated kisses.

D : "Tell your boyfriend it's over."

Hermione kisses him back and they fight for dominance.

H : "Never..."

Draco stops his movements momentarily and stares intently into Hermione's lustful eyes

D : "Never? Tell me to stop, Granger, and I will this time, I swear it."

Stop? Merlin, give her the strength.

She felt his erection press into her thigh, her initial reaction was to push him back and flee.

Her hands act on their own, she yanks the towel off his lean waist and tosses it aside.

She strokes his hard cock and he groans as new sensations flood his body.

D : "I want you, Hermione but I won't fucking share."

Hermione stares daggers at the man tracing lingering kisses up the heated flesh of her neck, he stops to suck on the pulse point.

She glares sternly.

H : "Share? You have no fucking right, I saw you clawing at Pansy earlier today."

Draco sucks deeply leaving his mark and chuckles.

D : "I knew you were watching, got off on it, didn't you?"

H : "I hate you."

Draco bites down on Hermione's collarbone.

D : "No you don't."

Draco pushes Hermione's skirt down and rips the knickers off her body and tosses it aside.

Hermione closes her eyes and parts her lips, she knows what's coming next.

D : "If you give yourself to me, then I'm yours, Granger."

Draco lines his throbbing precum leaking cock with Hermione's wet entrance and pushes in hard until he is completely sheathed within.

H : "Fuck...oh God, why do you make me feel this way?"

He thrusts deep and fast, his girth fills her up completely.

The urgent need of flesh hitting flesh echoes through their shared space.

D : "That's my girl, tell me you're mine."

Draco picks up the pace and plunges into Hermione mercilessly, her thighs already have his marks of pleasure branded into her but now it reddened with his powerful pounding.

D : "Fuck, Granger, your cunt loves my cock, I love how tight you are."

Hermione grabs a fistful of Draco's hair and pulls it back.

He groans, she takes his bottom lip between her teeth and bites down hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood.

H : "It's quite the opposite, it's you who belongs to me."

D : "Yes, fuck...you feel so good."

Heat gathered from all parts of her body and hovered over her engorged clitoris.

H : "Draco..."

D : "Let go, my love."

He kisses her deeply

D : "I want to feel you drown my dick."

Hermione feels the rough edges of the wall dig into her back, the bruises will burn later but right now, it adds to the sensations wracking havoc through her body.

One hard push and she comes crashing around him, wave after wave of her orgasm washes over her and she whimpers and moans as she rides her high.

It was truly over with Ron.

It was over the second she kissed Draco.

A voice growls in her ear.

D : "Mine, no one touches you but me."

H : "The same goes for you, if you cheat on me, I'll show you just how good I am at detaching your cock from your body."

Draco eyes flutter, he throws his head back and groans.

His release cripples him, Draco holds Hermione close until the last drop of his seed leaves him.

Her arms go around his sweat soaked body and she hangs onto him and runs her fingers through his hair.

She kisses the side of his pale neck.

H : "I think you need another shower."

Draco winks.

D : "Care to join me?"

Hermione shakes her head and attempts to stand on her own, her legs feel like unset jello.

H : "I'll pass."

Draco rolls his eyes.

He tosses Hermione over his shoulder and despite her protests carries her into the bathroom and kicks the door close behind him.

#dramione #draco and hermione #draco x hermione #hermione granger #draco lucius malfoy #dramionefanart #dramionefandom #dramione smut #draco fanfiction #dramione fanfic

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

Carol Danvers x GN!Reader : Compensation

Summary: Money isn’t the only form of payment.

Genre: Smut. It’s filth truly, I’ve never written anything like this, feel free to scroll away!

Warning: 18+ dom!carol\switch!reader, oral, unprotected sex, light choking, bit of a breeding kink, cockwarming

Word Count: 1,921

* * * * * *

An immediate sigh falls from your lips when you step into your apartment. Classic Rock blasts through the unit accompanied by the sounds of a video game.

You were so ready to just relax after work, maybe read a book while listening to Lo-fi, eventually cook dinner.

But it appears your houseguest is back tonight.

“Carol.” You greet the woman with nod, dropping your bag on the ground by the entrance way.

She smiles over at you brightly,“ Y/N!” She shouts over the music as opposed to turning it down.“ Figured you’d be pretty late, there’s pizza in the oven.”

Narrowed eyes stare back at her as you cross the living room to the radio and deliberately turn the music down slowly.“ This is an apartment complex Carol, I’m gonna get a noise violation if you keep blasting music all night.”

“Oh screw them.”

“You say that until I lose this place and then where would you bring your trysts and live rent free.” You tease as you head into the kitchen.

Carol stands and walks to the island connecting the kitchen and living room. With a mocking pout she tilts her head at you and says,“ you know you love having me around.”

“Do I?” Your eyebrows raise, both of you chuckling softly.“ Look I don’t mind having you here and I’m happy to house you but it’s been months Care, my bill’s gone up cause I’m using twice as much elec and water. I was able to cover it before but-”

An eyebrow quirks,“ bold of you to assume I have the income to pay rent.”

She definitely has the income. You’ve seen the paystubs she gets from the Avengers. She could pay your rent for the next eight months off one check and still have plenty left.

The eyeroll you give her is in place of the comment on her funds.“ Well geez Carol, I can’t cover this on my own.” You mildly gesture to the place around you.

It’s quiet for a moment, before she stands, and rounds the corner into the kitchen. She takes careful yet precise steps forward.

“Well I may not be able to pay your landlord, but I can most certainly repay you for letting me stay here.” Her tone drips suggestion and your eyes snap up to hers.

Brown eyes stare back at you in a way you had never seen them before and it takes everything you have not to swallow nervously.

You can’t lie and say your friend isn’t absolutely gorgeous. Her suggesting that she repay you this way has thoughts flicking through your mind that had previously been confined to dreams you kept to yourself. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look like a deer in headlights.

“W- what’d you mean?” Mentally you curse yourself for stuttering.

Carol, who had been joking, takes pleasure in your flustered state. It gives away your thoughts and she’s now curious to see if you’d actually go through with this.

Taking yet another few steps forward, she halts in front of you, her hand brushing your arm before she rests it on the counter at your side.“ You know exactly what I mean Y/nn,” the fingers of her other hand teasingly trail over your belt,“ you aren’t a little curious as to how I make all those girls scream.”

She watches as you swallow, your throat bobbing with the action, and she smirks.

“Carol I, whatever your thinking probably isn’t a good idea.”

“What I’m thinking? From the looks of it you can’t seem to take your mind off it either.” She pointedly glances down and you already know she’s eyeing your hardened member.

You’d felt it begin to strain against your compression shorts the instant her hand brushed your arm.

When you don’t give any kind of denial, she hooks her finger into your pants, and walks you back toward your bedroom.

Truthfully you’re far from opposed to having sex with Carol. But she’s your friend and quite frankly you never thought something like this would actually happen.

Her back hits your door and she uses her free hand to open it, pulling you in. Just as the door closes her lips crash onto yours. You both keep moving until the backs of your knees hit the bed and she’s more than happy to push you back.

Your body bounces on impact and Carol’s smile turns dangerously seductive. If your heart hadn’t been pounding before it certainly is now.

“Take your clothes off for me baby.” There’s no room for arguing in her tone so you do as she asks.

Keeping your eyes on her, you remove your clothes. Each article hits the floor with inaudibly and both of you wait with bated breath, Carol’s eyes taking in every inch of your body.

Why had she not seen you like this before? You look as if you’d been sculpted by the gods.

Quickly her hands reach out to stop yours,“ I’ll handle that part.” In a way that has you damn near drooling, she eases to her knees, and pulls your briefs down to the floor.

As you watch her, she watches the way your member springs free and stands at attention. Her jaw drops(probably the first time you’d ever seen her shocked), brown eyes staring at you.

She doesn’t even own straps as big as you are, and that’s saying something. Your length and girth had her questioning if she’d be able to handle this, but she was nothing if not curious.

The woman’s finger runs across your tip, the small action making you moan, mainly in anticipation.“ Carol please,” you sigh.

“For the record,” she swipes away the precum that spilled from you, allowing that to slick her hand as she started to pump you,“ I’m going to be taking control, understand?”

Momentarily frozen in pleasure, you fail to reply, which makes her stop, her hand leaving you completely and the air much colder than her palm hand been.

“Do you understand?” She asks again with a challenging raised brow.

It wasn’t often that you aren’t in control, in fact you’re usually the main one giving in your relationships and sexual escapades. You didn’t mind relinquishing control, at least this once.“ I understand.”

That’s all she needs to hear. In an instant her lips are wrapped around you. When she adds her tongue into the ministrations of her sucking you completely understand what made her girls scream.

How and why the appendage seems to be so long, you don’t understand, but it’s driving you mad. Your hand raise and you push a few fallen strands of hair back from her face, nearly falling apart at the sight of her mouth around you.

“Fuck Carol, if you keep this up I’m not gonna last long.” You sigh as you fall back on the bed.

“Can’t have that just yet now can we.”

Your chest heaves as you breathe deeply. Carol’s eyes linger on your naked form hungrily. Mustering the little self-control she has left, she strips, taking pride in feeling your eyes on her.

She’s stunning in every way. God those curves, those legs. The second she’s within reach, crawling up your body, your hands are on her. Every inch of skin is smooth, angel soft being the best description.

The blonde rests on your lap and you moan at the feeling over her wetness on your member. You hadn’t touched her yet and she’s this aroused?

Hesitantly, you move your hands to rest on her thighs, thumbs smoothing over the skin there.“ This okay?”

Carol smirks at you, loving that you asked, like a proper bottom she thought.“ It is.”

You grip her thighs in your hold as she rises and grabs you. Teasingly she rubs your tip through her folds and watches you as she sinks down.

Inch by inch she feels herself conforming to your size. The stretch stinging in the slightest but majority pleasurable.

It takes her a moment to adjust to you. Once she does, she rises and falls again. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and you watch yourself disappear inside of her over and over again.

“Goddamn.” You throw your head back.

Carol clicks her tongue against her teeth when she feels you plant your foot into the bed. Both of you are well aware that you were about to thrust up into her.

Her hands trail up your body, squeezing your breasts, and then one moving up to your neck. Palm resting over your throat, she gently squeezes the sides of your neck, and you moan.

“Who’s in control?” She leans down to whisper against the shell of your ear.

The choking puts you in a bit of a daze. It’s a sensation you didn’t realize you’d ever enjoy. There’s a possibility it feels so good because it’s Carol doing it but you can’t know for sure.

“You.” It’s a breathy reply but it’s a reply and Carol takes it with pride.

Sitting up, she keeps her hand around your throat, and speeds up the movement of her hips. Her walls flutter around you and the familiar tightening in your stomach is a warning.

“Carol I- fuck, I’m close.” You grip the wrist of the hand around your neck.“ You gotta move or I’m gonna-”

Blonde hairs tick the side of your face as she leans down and kisses your neck where her hand had been,“ I want you to.”

A flustered frown pulls at your brows,“ are you sure?”

“Fill me up.” She smirks and her hips stutter as she lets go.

Despite that she continues to ride you slowly bringing you over the edge right after her. And she moans at the feeling of your seed shooting into her.

Silence settles, minus your labored breaths, as you both come down.

Tiredly you reach up to run your fingers through her slightly damp hair. Her body seemingly shines from the thin layer of sweat she’d produced with all her hard work.

When she rises up a shiver runs over her body at the now cooling atmosphere and you sit up as well. It appears she has no intention of moving off of you, so you wrap your arms around her waist and stand.

A small laugh falls from her lips when your member twitches inside her and she wiggles just a little to feel it again.

“Carol.” You groan, pulling the covers back.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not.” She laughs again.

Narrowing your eyes at her, you drop her on to the bed, leaving her empty once again and she glares at you instantly. Your cockiness however vanishes when she takes a hold of your sensitive member.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You breathe with raised eyebrows. Moving quickly, you lay down, letting her slide you back inside her.

She sighs and cuddles back into you, surprisingly soft after her sexual dominance. Admittedly you’d never seen her like this, as her friend you could honestly say she’s a bit of a douche at times, so this is new to you.

Before the quiet settles entirely and you fall asleep she asks,“ was that payment enough?”

“I would say yes but your behind a few months.” It’s a risky statement on your part, especially knowing that Carol doesn’t sleep with the same person twice.

“Well I guess I better catch up on that.” She retorts, rotating her hips in a way that has your member awakening again.

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #reader insert #request

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rayveewrites · 3 years

Text

Ray Hijacks the Team ZIT Ghostbuster AU Again

So @shadeswift99 made a few posts a while ago about a Team ZIT(S) ghostbuster AU, And then I may or may not have hijacked the post to add in ideas for most of the other hermits because why not.

Now, back then I was spitballing ideas and making them up on the spot, which is admittedly my usual writing process, but hey.

That said, I've had more time to think about it, and then last night I blacked out for a few hours and came to with a Google Doc filled with short bios for all of the hermits and a handful of hermit-adjacents. Now, this rapidly turned into an urban fantasy AU in my hands, but hey. It's fun.

This is in alphabetical order, with alternate personas (EX, Helsknight, Beetlejhost) beneath their original counterparts when applicable:

Bdubs

Lives in an old mansion in the woods alongside Doc for reasons known only to them. Bdubs works as an interior designer, with a side gig as a freelance hairdresser. His eyes are unnaturally large, similar to Keralis’, and he is at least partially a plant. Completely feral and frequently gets in trouble for having knives on him at all times. He and Cleo have a thing called Knife Club which makes everyone else nervous. Nobody messes with Knife Club. It’s not worth it. Sunbathes frequently.

Beef

Is a perfectly normal human being. He works as a butcher with a side gig as a graphic designer specializing in album covers and spends his free time playing pokemon and dragging Etho along to social events. He was the first person to spot the cryptid, and the first person who Etho approached of his own accord.

Biffa

Is a ghost possessing a robotic shell. Biffa is from the future. While initially his main goal was to get back home to his own time, Biffa has since made friends and settled down into a new life running a cafe specializing in a wide range of teas. He’s quite content with this, and has actually found himself far happier than he was in his own time. While his nature means he can see, hear and touch ghosts, his body was built specifically for a disembodied soul to be in the driver’s seat, and he doesn’t want to risk another taking control. Also, he has more important things to do than have fistfights with ghosts.

Cleo

Is a ghost possessing her own dead corpse. Her nature allows her to see, hear and touch ghosts. Can and will fistfight spirits. She works as a teacher, so she’s usually busy, but occasionally in really nasty situations the Beetlejhost will drag her in to break a ghost’s legs. Does sculpture in her free time, and is actually really good. The only one who can wrangle Beetle to any real capacity, and she’s learned to keep him on a fairly short leash. Housemates with Joe, and Keralis also pops in pretty frequently. Has Knife Club with Bdubs. Has an enchanted flower crown that prevents her from decaying further; a gift from Beetle. Recently started learning magic in the form of necromancy and illusions. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Zloy, in which she temporarily traps his soul in random inanimate objects every now and then.

Cub

A bit of a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, Cub’s experiments are not exactly the most ethical, though they’re at least more professional than Doc’s. Responsible for the creation of Jevin. Cub gets possessed stupidly easily- sometimes willingly- and can usually handle it himself but sometimes has to call for help. Has a magical method of communication with Scar for exactly this reason. Has a day job as co-owner of a business called ConCorp, which he started with Scar. Has probably broken the Geneva Convention.

Doc

Was presumably human at one point. Now an abomination. Repeated experiments on himself have resulted in a massively changed facial and foot structure, a body covered in mottled green scales, claws, and goat horns. He lost half his face in one of his experiments, and constructed a new cybernetic one. He lost his right arm fighting God. Killed said god and would do it again. Lives in a mansion in the woods with Bdubs, though nobody’s really sure why. Owns a casino because of course he does. Also a living crime against fashion, because the man refuses to wear anything other than his tattered lab coat, torn jeans, and crocs.

Ely

Runs the local radio station. Nobody’s ever seen him in person, and nobody knows where he gets people’s voice clips for his remixes. Probably a cryptid. Maybe a ghost. Seems pretty chill, despite the blatant invasions of privacy.

Etho

Is a cryptid. Lives out in the woods in an abomination that can barely be called a house. Has never been seen in anything other than full Kakashi cosplay. Tends to keep to himself, but occasionally lets Beef drag him along to social events, often with Doc and Bdubs. Nobody really knows what his deal is. Probably not human. Probably.

False

Used to be part of an illegal underground cage fighting ring, until she earned enough to buy her way out. Having grown up in said ring, she struggles to adjust to normal life, but living in a town where the barista is a robot and the local tailor has wings makes it easier. She now has a job as security at Doc’s casino, alongside Iskall.

Grian

Is either an angel or a demigod, but nobody knows which. Has wings. Is both a tailor and an architect. A complete gremlin who has elaborate masks of various birds and will wear them to commit crimes. Eats seeds. Messes with everyone else’s plants. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats. Volunteers at the local theatre.

Hypno

Has three eyes, but hides the third one under a bandanna at all times. Can see ghosts with it. Had problems with sections of plumbing randomly getting clogged and also making very weird noises, and eventually called Team ZIT when the plumbers couldn’t find the source. Was prepared for ghosts, but wound up with a slime creature instead. Works in a $2 store for some reason.

Impulse

Is fully human. The most sensible member of Team ZIT (which admittedly isn’t saying much), Impulse has a day job as a freelancer building custom PCs and fixing broken tech. Agreed to the whole ghostbusting deal because he was bored, mostly. Was the first one to meet Skizz face-to-face, and is the one to own that particular place outright. Gets possessed every now and then, usually by larger spirits. Used to run solely on caffeine and chronic anxiety until Zedaph started getting on his case about his sleep schedule. Now he runs on less caffeine, more sleep, and the same amount of chronic anxiety.

Iskall

Was part of a cloning experiment to create the ultimate hitman, and was the only known one to both survive and escape before the whole thing was shut down by the authorities. Their eye and arm were replaced with cybernetics in order to increase their already enhanced abilities, and they were chased by said authorities, eventually winding up on Mumbo’s doorstep and becoming Mumbo’s problem. Now works as security at Doc’s casino, alongside False. Lives at Jungle Wood flats. Occasionally volunteers at the local theatre. Does bonsai as a hobby.

Jevin

Is the slime creature in the pipes. Hypno lets him live with him under the condition he stops blocking the plumbing and making weird noises at 3 AM (Jevin still blocks the plumbing and makes weird noises at 3 AM, just not as much as he was). Has taught himself to take a humanoid shape, and likes having fingers. Sleeps in the bathtub because he can. Was created from a vat of chemicals in a secret lab underneath the house, which used to be owned by Cub. Doesn’t really talk to the man in question that much, but will occasionally refer to Cub as his father for the sole reason of watching him go through eight existential crises in three minutes. Has a glock.

Joe

Head librarian at the local public library, and has read a lot of books on Supernatural Things. Is a veritable fountain of exposition if you can figure out what he’s saying or have Cleo along with you to threaten the integrity of his shins. Has never been seen in the same place as the Beetlejhost. Are they the same person? Are they entirely separate beings? Is there a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-type situation going on? Who knows!

Beetlejhost

Literally nobody really knows what his deal is. Nobody. Team ZIT ran into him on a call that they expected to be a false alarm and then he decided to follow them home. Spends most of his time being a minor nuisance in the most bizarre ways possible. Is implied to be responsible for the Ever Given getting lodged in the Suez Canal, but never confirmed. When he’s not bothering Team ZIT or getting them out of tight spots, he’s usually pestering Cleo, the only one who can keep him in line. It’s not really known if he and Cleo have a history or if they’re just Like That.

Keralis

Is a ghost haunting an architecture firm, and is mostly bound to the building, though he can travel to other buildings the firm has built, which is, uh, most of them. Initially only able to do small things- mostly writing notes or drawing diagrams- he eventually meets the Beetlejhost when the latter follows Mumbo to work one day for shits and giggles (he wanted to see how long he could mess with Mumbo before the man noticed. As it turned out, about a week, and by the end it was Iskall who noticed). After a couple of days in which Beetle teaches Keralis Ghost Things™, he scares half the office when he finally manifests for the first time. Has unnaturally large eyes and nicknames for most of the workers. Has no idea how he died or what his unfinished business might be. Very knowledgeable about architecture, and his input is usually very much appreciated.

Mumbo

Is a perfectly normal human being who does IT at Keralis’ architecture firm. Lives at Jungle Wood flats and spends most of his free time tinkering with tech and trying to keep Grian and Iskall out of trouble, which is a losing battle. Has a large, beating golden heart in his flat. He’s not really sure what its deal is, but if he feeds it apples it produces enough power for the entire building. Oh, and if he forgets to feed it for an extended period of time it starts draining his bank account. It’s really weird.

Pixlriffs

Was a perfectly normal human being until he died protecting a certain Russian zombie and became a perfectly normal ghost. Was a reporter in life and is a reporter in death. Runs a blog alongside Zloy about the local goings-on, supernatural or not. The blog’s the type where unless you live in/near the town you most likely won’t stumble across it, but they do have a small following of outsiders who assume the blog’s just a work of fiction. His unfinished business is to prevent Zloy from doing anything particularly stupid, a constant battle. Is able to go more places than Zloy due to being incorporeal, but respects people’s privacy. He’s bound to Zloy to a certain degree, not being able to go beyond a certain range of his friend. The range is pretty big, though, and he has plenty freedom of movement.

Python

Had a run-in with the fae as a kid, in which he accidentally pissed one off. In retribution, the faerie challenged him to answer a riddle or he’d be turned into a snake. Python’s answer was partially correct, so the faerie only transformed him partially. Python is fairly chill, though he strongly dislikes the cold and starts hissing if anyone disturbs him during Sun Time™. Sometimes Bdubs, being partially flora, joins Python for Sun Time™. He’s not venomous, because, you know...python. Also, he has a mildly disturbing habit of strangling rats and mice and then eating them whole, but he can’t help it and just tries not to do so when he has company.

Ren

Is a werewolf. He’s pretty chill regardless of form, though it’s only been recently he’s been comfortable enough leaving his ears and tail visible. He works as a lumberjack. One time Pixl introduced him to Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song and it quickly became his favourite thing. He spends most of his free time volunteering at the local theatre because Ren is absolutely a theatre kid and nobody can convince me otherwise. Gets possessed every now and then. Lives in Jungle Wood flats.

Scar

Works as a landscape developer. Gets possessed absurdly easily, though not quite as frequently as Cub. Has a magical method of communication with him. Technically co-owns ConCorp, but isn’t as involved. His cat, Jellie, is very obviously an eldritch abomination in feline form and he is comedically unaware of this. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats with Grian, Iskall, Mumbo, Stress, and Ren.

Skizz

Is the ghost haunting Team ZIT’s office. He was murdered by someone he’d thought was a friend who was trying to use his place to hide from the cops, and he’s stuck around, haunting the building. His unfinished business is to make sure nobody else uses the building for anyone shady, but the ghost rumours tended to chase most people off. Eventually he gets used to having Team ZIT around, and when Tango admits he doesn’t really have anywhere to go one day, Skizz eventually makes the decision to finally unlock the still-furnished upper floor for him. He’s bound to the building, but Impulse learns that carrying Skizz’s old vest with them allows him to leave. After that, Skizz sometimes accompanies them on missions and occasionally just hanging out. He’s usually more helpful than the Beetlejhost is.

Stress

Is a witch. Stress lives in Jungle Wood Flats and works as a doctor who specializes in supernaturally caused injuries- Team ZIT are some of her best customers. She also sells magic potions of various kinds, and has a side gig as a florist. She’s 90% of the Jungle inhabitants’ impulse control. Also has cryokinesis.

Tango

The Team ZIT member with a car. He gets possessed with frankly ridiculous frequency, but claims not to believe in ghosts for a long time (and keeps up the bit for even longer). Has developed various signals to indicate when he’s being possessed again. The strongest one, a rather nasty demon Cleo and the Beetlejhost had to team up on, left him with his glowing red eyes. He didn’t really have anywhere to go before Impulse bought the office, and tended to sleep on the couch or in his car until Skizz decided to let him into the upper floor, where he now lives alongside Zedaph and Impulse.

TFC

A now-retired ghostbuster, TFC calls in Team ZIT one night when he finds himself in over his head against a ghost with a grudge. He winds up becoming a bit of a mentor figure to the trio, usually coaching them over the phone if they’re not sure how to deal with one of the stranger spirits. Lost his leg years ago in a fight with a poltergeist that could have gone better, and now has a robotic prosthetic made by Doc.

Wels

While Team ZIT was out investigating some rumour or another in the woods, they came across a large stone box. Following video game logic, I guess, they then decided opening this large stone box sounded like a fun idea. Well, Tango and Zedaph did. Impulse was a bit more hesitant. The box actually held a medieval knight who’d been put in an enchanted sleep for centuries by his demonic doppelgänger, and was very much not prepared for modern life. Team ZIT took him to Xisuma, who happened to live closest, and Wels is currently helping out on the farm and trying to adjust to life in the 21st century. He can understand and speak modern English just fine because magic. Volunteers at the local theatre quite a lot.

Hels

Is Wels’ doppelgänger. Technically a minor demon. Won a fight with Wels and sealed him away for centuries as a result. A recurring problem. His real motivation is that he really desperately doesn’t want to go back to Hell, but he’s too proud to admit it. Lives in the woods with EX, who’s basically his only friend, though the weirdo with the brown cardigan keeps pestering him about his backstory and feelings for some reason. Has minor pyrokinesis.

Like Biffa, XB is also a ghost from the future, though it seems to be a different timeline than Biffa’s. His unfinished business is preventing the apocalypse, but he has no idea how to do that, no idea if he’s in the right timeline, and is pretty sure he’s gone back a lot farther than he probably should’ve. Also, there’s the whole paradox issue, where if he prevents the apocalypse he never has a reason to go back and prevent the apocalypse, so he doesn’t prevent the apocalypse, so he has to go back and- he tries not to think about it too much. He mostly just hangs out in an abandoned house on the edge of town and vibes.

Xisuma

Is a beekeeper. Nobody’s ever seen his face; when he’s not in his beekeeping outfit, he’s either wearing a helmet, or (more recently) an extremely lifelike and detailed animal mask (is it a mask?). Actually a shapeshifting alien, he crashed down to Earth after a scuffle with his evil clone and was stranded because Earth doesn’t have the right tools or resources to repair a spaceship. These days he’s actually found he’s happier tending to his bees, selling honey, and helping his friends out, and probably wouldn’t leave Earth even if he could. It’s a simpler life, but a pleasant one. He bonds with Biffa over a shared love of tea and being stranded in a technologically inferior world and finding a home.

Evil Xisuma

Is Xisuma’s clone. Feels that if everyone’s going to call him ‘Evil’ he may as well own it. Shot his original’s spaceship down in a scuffle but wound up being brought down with him. Currently hides in the woods. Generally more of a minor nuisance than an actual danger. Used to spend his free time bothering X but has gotten put off by Wels, who has a problem when it comes to evil clones. His friends consist of Hels, who is a terrible role model, and Zedaph, who’s trying to help him work through his problems behind everyone’s backs. Can summon lightning because he deserves it.

Zedaph

Is the reason Team ZIT is ghostbusting in the first place. He’s a sheep shearer by trade, but that’s a fairly seasonal thing and ghostbusting is more fun anyway. Has somehow never been possessed, and claims it’s because he’s always standing next to Tango. He makes sure the other two gets enough sleep Because we all know they can’t be trusted to do it. Probably has some sort of really bizarre and situational magical powers he is thoroughly unaware of. Qualified to be a licensed therapist. Made friends with Evil X at one point, somehow.

Zloy

Like Cleo, he’s a ghost possessing a corpse. Unlike Cleo, there’s a good chance it’s not his corpse. Eh, it’s not like anyone else was using it. Runs a blog with Pixl, because why not. Was already a zombie when he met Pixl, who was still alive at the time. His body is a bit more decayed than Cleo’s, but it’s fine. His goggles are enchanted with the same preservation spell; it’s not really ever explained where he got them from. Has no regard for privacy but is fortunately unable to turn invisible or phase through walls due to inhabiting a physical body. Both can theoretically physically fight ghosts and has enough time to physically fight ghosts, meaning he would be a valuable ally if he could be bothered. Lives in a graveyard. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Cleo, in which he puts jabs at her on the blog. Once spent a week as a (very sarcastic) floating potato.

Hermiton

Is the name of the place they all live in/near. Located in an ambiguous location in an ambiguous country, Hermiton is technically large enough to be considered a city but has Town VibesTM. Supernatural going-ons are a fairly normal part of life, and a good number of inhabitants aren’t humans. Despite this, the wider world seems mostly ignorant of the existence of ghosts, magic, etc. I’m not too sure about geography, but it’s surrounded by forest in most directions and in a warm enough climate to not have snow in the winter (so Python doesn’t, you know, freeze to death). Most people don’t tend to bat an eyelid at strange-looking people walking down the street or serving them at the store; they’re used to it by now. There are several theories as to why Hermiton specifically has so much going on when it comes to the supernatural- ley lines, secretly the resting place of some long-forgotten god, et cetera- but it’s actually more of a case of ‘people who have supernatural traits hear rumours of a place where a lot of people have supernatural traits and go there in search of answers/a place to belong’. This doesn’t exactly explain where all the ghosts came from, but hey. Nothing’s perfect.

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dontcrywrite · 3 years

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a kingdom betrayed chapter four excerpt

word count: 1,656 words

notes: here's the very first helen/cory scene in akb, ft. everyone's favorite horse whiskey!!! <3 this takes place the night before helen leaves for her quest!

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @bronwennjames @twentythreecrows @writeblrfantasy @chishiio

@nikkywrites @drippingmoon @forthesanityofsome @amberskywrites @ashen-crest @hellishhin @oh-no-another-idea@thelaughingstag

Once the excitement dies down, Helen slips off towards the stables.

It’s an old habit of hers, one that goes all the way back to when she was a child, hiding in her foster father’s stables and waiting for the panic choking her to subside. Even now, years later with the chaos of the day hanging over her head, Helen is only able to breathe once she sinks her fingers into Whiskey’s mane.

The stables are quiet this time of night; if they aren’t on duty, most knights are lounging about the courtyard enjoying their rare free time. If she listens hard enough, Helen can hear their voices floating on the air. Usually she’d go out and join them, but right now she’s content to sit in the dark and let the gentle sounds of the horses moving about in their stalls calm her nerves.

She’s supposed to head out tomorrow morning, according to Muriel. Helen’s been waiting for this moment ever since she first joined the palace guard; she even has a bag already packed and stored safely under her cot, ready to go. And yet Helen can’t help but feel a low sense of panic humming under her skin at the thought of the quest. There’s so much hanging on this. What if she doesn’t succeed?

Helen is so focused on running her fingers through Whiskey’s mane that she doesn’t hear the creaking of the stable door opening. She does, however, see the shadows move across the wall as someone slips inside.

Now, logically Helen knows that it’s someone from the palace, but she’s been on edge all evening. Instinct pushes her to move without thinking. Jumping in front of Whiskey, she throws one arm out in front of the horse and the other resting on the sword hanging at her hip. Whiskey didn’t react, too engrossed with the food in front of him to realize what was going on.

“Helen?” A familiar voice calls out from the shadows. “Are you in here?”

Helen’s shoulders slump, and she leans back heavily against Whiskey’s flank. Whiskey nudges her shoulder gently before returning to his food. “Don’t scare me like that,” she says.

Cory steps out of the shadows, a grin dancing on her face. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

The sight of Cory is enough to dissipate the tension that has been coiled around Helen’s spine ever since the prince had returned to the palace with one foot in the grave. She looks exactly the same as she did this morning when Helen ran into her: light hair pushed back from her forehead, spade shoved in her pocket, a streak of dirt across her cheek. Helen has never been more thrilled to see anyone in her life.

“What are you doing here?” Helen asks, lips twitching up in a small smile.

“Thought you might be in here,” Cory says with a shrug. She walks over to Helen, a slight bounce in her steps, before rummaging in her pockets and presenting Helen with a slightly crushed daisy. “Stressful day?”

“Don’t get me started.” Huffing out a small breath, Helen accepts the flower and threads it behind her ear. It’s a little ritual the two have shared since they met; Cory had started it, when she all but shoved a bright lily Helen’s hand the first time they’d run into one another.

Cory hums gently, sidling up to Helen and pressing into her side. “You’re heading out tomorrow morning for your quest, right?”

“Yeah.” Silence fell over the two. And then Helen realizes what Cory had just said. “Wait, how do you know about that? I haven’t gotten the chance to tell anyone yet!”

Cory shrugs. “Emory overheard Muriel talking to Joanna about it. The whole castle knew twenty minutes later.”

Helen groans and buries her head in her hands. Cory pats her shoulder sympathetically.

“So where are you going?” Cory’s voice is casual, but Helen knows her well enough to hear the undercurrent of curiosity in her voice.

Now, technically Helen isn’t supposed to talk about her mission to anyone. She was given strict instructions to keep everything close to her chest, to not trust anyone. Someone had infiltrated the palace and passed information to Ausburn; no one could be trusted until the Mage’s plans were unveiled. Not to mention that any and all missions handed down from the king himself weren’t to be shared with anyone, not even her fellow knights.

But this is Cory, the first person Helen befriended when she came to the palace. This is Cory, who always knew how to draw Helen out of her shell and knows exactly what to say to make Helen smile. Helen would trust Cory with her life. She’d never even considered keeping this from Cory.

“You know what happened to Prince Levi.” It isn’t a question. There isn’t a person in the palace who hasn’t heard what occurred that morning. Cory nods, wrapping a hand around Helen’s arm and giving a reassuring squeeze. “Well, Muriel has reason to believe Mage Ausburn was behind the attack.”

Cory hisses in a breath. “I thought he was holed up in the Hingcour Peaks?”

“Apparently he got bored.”

“So, what, they want you to go find him and ask him to stop? I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“There’s no concrete proof that it’s him. Not yet. Muriel doesn’t want to go after Ausburn until it’s strictly necessary.” Helen gestures to herself. “That’s where I come in. I have to find Ausburn. I find him, I find the proof we need.”

Cory’s fingers tightened around Helen’s arm, just shy of being painful. “That sounds incredibly dangerous.”

“It’s part of the job description,” Helen shrugs.

Cory’s hand leaves Helen’s arm. Helen turns back to Whiskey, resuming her brushing. She can feel Cory’s gaze on her, but doesn’t look up, not wanting to see the concern that she knows is shining out of Cory’s eyes. Whiskey shakes his head gently under Helen’s hands, pleased with the attention.

“Alright,” Cory says after a moment. Helen readies herself for the lecture on safety that is sure to follow. But instead, all Cory says is: “I’m coming with you.”

Helen whips around to face Cory, brush hanging limply from her hand. Even Whiskey lifts his head, as if he was just as shocked at Cory’s words. Had Helen heard her right? "What - what do you mean you're coming with me?"

Cory’s lips are pursed, arms crossed over her chest. Helen knows this look far too well; Cory’s gearing herself up for an argument. “I’m coming with you,” she repeats, narrowing her eyes at Helen.

“That’s - you -” Helen splutters. “You’ve never said this about my other missions!”

“Your other missions didn’t involve you running headfirst at the most dangerous mage in Arla!” Cory throws her hands in the air, voice bordering on a shriek.

“I’m not running at him! It’s just reconnaissance!”

“But what if you get caught? What if he hurts you?”

“I won’t.” Helen reaches out and grabs Cory’s hand, linking their fingers together. “I’m going to be fine. I’d be more worried about you if you came along.”

Cory’s really pouting now. “I can take care of myself!”

“Well, right, but -”

“Remember when I beat you in that spar?”

Helen frowns. “Just because you fight dirty -”

“I won fair and square!”

“What about your job?” Helen asks, hoping the new topic might yield better results. She knows for a fact that Cory would rather cut her own hand off than let anyone touch her flower beds. “You can’t just up and leave without any explanation! Who’ll take care of your flowers?”

This slows Cory down. She rocks back on her heels, looking torn.

“They’ll probably have Ryan take over for you,” Helen says, nodding sagely. “Remember what happened last time he came near your flowers?”

There hadn’t been a plant left untouched. Cory had been devastated. Ryan spent weeks apologizing; he didn’t mean to kill the plants, not really. The poor man didn’t have much of a green thumb.

For a moment, it looks like Cory might conceded to Helen’s point. But then she just shakes her head. “I can always plant new seeds. If I lost you …”

She trails off, but Helen can hear what Cory isn’t saying. If Helen fails this mission, there’s no coming back. Cory’s doing her best to hide it, but Helen can see worry in the way Cory holds herself, stiff and unyielding.

Of course she knows how dangerous this mission was. How could she not? But how could she bring Cory along, only to put her in danger? Cory is more than capable of taking care of herself, yes, but what if she got hurt on Helen’s watch? She’d never be able to forgive herself.

On the other hand, isn’t she one of the only people who would could keep Cory safe?

Cory is pouting again, eyes silently imploring Helen in a way she’s never really been able to say no to. And really, that’s not playing very fair.

“Alright,” Helen sighs, already knowing she’ll regret this. “You can come.”

Cory brightens immediately, throwing herself at Helen and throwing her arms around her shoulders. “Thanks, Hel! This is going to be great!”

For a moment, Helen can’t breathe. Despite her small stature, Cory was deceivingly strong. “If you come with me,” Helen says, wheezing just a bit, “you can’t mess around. This isn’t a game.”

“Of course,” Cory nods solemnly. She then immediately ruins the mood by grinning at Helen. “You know, I’ve never been on a road trip before.”

Helen groans, pushing her face into Cory’s neck. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she grumbles, voice muffled.

Cory laughs, and Helen can feel the vibrations through her skin. “You love me,” she teases as she tangles her fingers in Helen’s hair.

“Yeah,” Helen sighs softly. “Yeah, I do.”

#wip: akb #writeblr #original writing #fantasy writing #fantasy wip #the goal of this scene was to move the plot a little bit but mostly show you helen and cory's relationship #i hope that came thru??#this is the first draft so it's gonna be a little rough oof lol #i skipped chapter three to write this lol #writing this scene was so fun #oc: helen mast #oc: cordelia langston #whiskey is the Best Boy i love him #he's the best character in this book #this scene was v fun to write i love helen and cory so much 🥺🥺

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gowyuko · 3 years

Photo

Had there existed a time when Ko Gowyu had been nothing of what he was now? Perhaps a time when he’d been a young boy, without any worries in the world, playing and running along with his friends. Or even the idea that he’d been close enough to someone to call them more than a mere acquaintance but even worse a friend.

There had been a time as such; it was but long ago.

The fae realm possessed magic that Gowyu would catch himself missing more than he ought to, because behind all that was ethereally beautiful in his homeland, there also was something ugly that made him nauseous at the thought of returning. The mere thought of finding himself back there, stuck and unable to leave. Gowyu had left something rotten to the core, but the way it’d corrupted him from within, he was not regretful of, rather, Gowyu was grateful for the lessons it’d taught him as a young child.

Two hundred years he’d been when betrayal had landed at the tip of his tongue and the furry of it had sent him almost commiting a crime that would not have seen any mercy, not even from his dear mother. From his father, Gowyu had never expected anything, the respect he had for him would never compare to the affection he carried for Inyri. A conversation between Tooen and Inyri started the spiral, Sayge’s name for the first time putting forth a conflict against their name.

Another one, more sinister than the other, of contempt and how Gowyu would never get them where they needed to be and his sister would be a better bet. But alas, she’d been gone for so long and it did not seem as if she would return anytime soon. That did start to plant the seed of envy, because the whispers came from mouths that had smiled at him, hands that had held him and voices that had carried to shower him with praises that Gowyu had soaked in years after years.

It led to doubts; did his mother also think the same of him while she told him she loved him? Was it the kind of love that was only displaced because the truly adored one was not complying with the rules of her lineage? Gowyu had been red with rage, but deep somewhere within, a place that had ceased to exist now, he’d also been hurt. Far from being the innocent and docile fae he’d always portrayed himself to be, Gowyu had always thought that he’d one day be the pride of his clan.

He’d been socially thriving, the facade had been paying off, he’d been doing so good at making connections, creating himself links that would strengthen his position in the clan; or so he’d thought. Gowyu had been nothing else but a puppet in a game that many had been playing, a piece that was only pushed forward and idolized because the main one had fiercely locked its defenses and refused to let anyone try to climb up to its fences.

The hurt had come from the thought that he’d been getting played as much as he’d thought he’d been playing the field as well. The anger, he’d let it diffuse by returning to his chambers and doing something he’d grow fond of doing over the next years to come; sitting in the dark and letting his thoughts invade him in the shape of shadows that carried somber whispers. In this darkness that would soon come to carry no light, there had been something close to it before the downward spiral.

Gowyu had grown more suspicious, more paranoid of people’s intentions, of all of them, even his own mother. All but one person. Their voices had not been present during the conversation that he'd accidentally heard talking of him as if he was nothing but an insect in a world of predators. Gowyu had had one person to consider keeping his trust in, they’d grown up together. Ran through the years with smiles and laughter that no one else had genuinely brought forth from him.

Contrary to what he’d wanted to seem like for so many years, Gowyu had never felt emotions the way he’d supposed it should have been felt. He’d always had this vague sense of what he should have been and his mother’s affection had slowly softened the parts that had wanted to harden before its time. But this friend had done something Gowyu had never thought himself capable of doing; they’d brought out sincere feelings.

Had it been a spell? The Gowyu of now would affirm it had. The Gowyu of then was only a simpleton who thought this was a gem, something that belonged to him, made for him. He’d jealously cherished this friendship like he’d cherished nothing else before. If he could have locked it up in a shell that only he could access with a magic word, he would have. An idea he’d entertained very young, an idea that had tasted bitter the day his friend turned his back on him and spoke with a venom that Gowyu had never known to taste so sweet before.

Ko Gowyu had always known that snakes were the most powerful; slithering, double edged tongue and the strength to suffocate a prey that outweighed them by triple at times. They were marvelous. He’d always had a fascination for the kind. Dragons had always seemed to be just a bigger imitation of the one animal that ruled supreme. Subtle in the way they preyed, their venom capable of poisoning over a period of time and the warmer the blood, the faster the spread.

But Gowyu had had to get bitten and filled with the cold reality of it, feeling it spread from roots to tips before realizing that he too; had been born with the ability to sink his fangs in veins and never let go until his prey had succumbed to his venom. Because what it’d done to him was to know that the last person he expected to betray him had always planned on doing so; had only befriended because he wanted to have Gowyu eventually present him to the first born of the clan. There would, after all, be no greater honor than to find their place at her side as a mate.

Gowyu had started seeing green, at first, not from envy, hatred, or jealousy; but from the bite of another snake. It marinated overnight in the darkness of his chambers; rather than killing him, it grew and it festered an ugly wound that began to spread like an illness. A fever that began to grow faster than any mold. Gowyu had still had the thought of locking this rotten snake, this time only to see how long one could stay under a rock that weighed heavy enough to crush the bones but not give the mercy of death.

Then his mind lashed onto the one common thing behind everything that had begun to transpire; the first born of the Ko, Sayge.

Gowyu had spent quite a few days locked in, refusing to eat and refusing to sleep as he hissed. He’d felt the scales on his back and down his arms; he’d seen in the darkness, his eyes turn the color of a serpent and he’d found himself unable to speak without his tongue darting forward and sliding against his teeth. The whispers would sound like millions of snakes crawling up his ears, their venom would bulge in his veins and grow exponent to the point that one night he’d slept and awoken to his curtains pulled and a wet cloth against his forehead.

Inyri’s face had come from a blur above his face; Gowyu had felt nothing at first.

“What have you done, child of mine?”

His mother’s voice, he’d always loved the way it sounded; so Gowyu had let himself shed the last of his skin with it lulling him back to sleep in the background.

After seven days of unrelenting fever; Ko Gowyu had awakened a changed fae.

#the serpent ( solo )#the green ( venom )#ajkdhs last but not the least.#it's a new dawn for gowyu too.#thought i could start with a glimpse into who he was before the sayge arc

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belovedbangtan · 4 years

Text

Now & Later | pjm

Idol!Jimin x Reader | established relationship|

Word Count: 2k

Description: After months of only being able to see your boyfriend via Face Time, it was time you flew to see him in person. His schedule is hectic though, but he makes sure to take care of you.

Warnings: language, SMUT, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!), Slight Dom!Jimin & Sub!Reader, just a good ol’fashioned QUICKIE.

*not my GIF, credit to the owner!*

When I fell in love with an international Pop-star, I knew my time with him would be limited. Both of us were working on our careers and I loved that about our relationship. Late night Face Times- early morning for him- was how we handled our sexual cravings for each other. Most of the time, it would help. Recently, however, the phone calls weren't cutting it. My finger tips would tingle with the anticipation of touching him. Night after night, my dreams were only of him. Him and all of the things I needed to do with him, in person.His arms looked bigger, and I needed to wrap my hands around his biceps. His lips looked juicer than ever before and I needed them pressed all over my body. I decided it was time for me to use some of my vacation time and fly out to see my boy.

Of course, whenever I chose to come was fine. Unfortunately, I chose one of the busiest weeks on his tour to come see him. Of course, I did.

As soon as I arrived my luggage was being hauled away to the hotel room, and we were all being shuttled to where his interview was. His arms tight around my figure. I inhale his scent deeply, which instantly made me want to rip his clothes off. Rushing words from their manager has Jimin pulling my hand through the other boys, finally finding a somewhat private spot in the back of the bus.

He pulls me onto his lap, his hand flying up to brush the hair out of my face, “I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

I lean down slowly, audibly sighing into his mouth when his lips meet mine for the first time in months, “You have no fucking clue.” I lean into him more, my arm wrapping around his neck, placing light kisses to his neck and the shell of his ear.

“Baby, there is nothing I want more than your lips all over me… but I’m about to do a live interview and probably shouldn’t have a hard on,” He whispers into my ear.

I pull back biting my lip, my face bright red from a mixture of lust and embarrassment. I hear him chuckle lightly before pulling my face to his again.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have time eventually. And when we do…” His eyebrows raise and his bottom lip gets pulled in by his teeth, sending a shiver up my spine. He knew his lips were my weakness, so he liked to incorporate them as much as possible.

“Okay we’re here!” someone yells, pulling us out of our tunnel vision.

That interview lasted about 4 hours, the next one was almost 3. Just when I thought we were going to have some alone time, we had to be shuttled to the venue to start rehearsal. I insisted that I was obviously fine with the busy schedule to keep Jimin from apologizing as much as he had been. Honestly, I was okay with it, it was the aching between my thighs that was getting unbearable.

Jimin was out on the stage with the boys rehearsing for the performance, I overheard their manager explaining their timeline to an assistant. I silently groan when he doesn't mention anytime for a break in between now and the show. Suddenly I hear my name being sang through the loud speaker. I quickly look from their manager to the stage turning giddy when I see a cheeky Jimin waving to me. I laugh and smile back, blowing him an over exaggerated kiss.

Everything about him made my body ache in the most wonderful way. The way his lips brushed the microphone made my toes tingle. The way is body would effortlessly hit every beat of the choreography. How his sweatshirt would lift up every once in awhile to show me his chiseled abs. The way is hair stuck to his face when he started to get a little sweaty, had me envisioning how sweaty we would be getting later.

I turned away quickly realizing that it was only making my want grow more. I followed my feet to the backstage lounge area, where some of the hair and makeup crew were waiting to get started on the boys. You had gotten to know most of them pretty well since you and Jimin had been together for nearly a year.

“Y/n!” Dae, Jimin’s main stylist, yells as she recognizes me, “when did you get here?!”

I wrap my arms around her tiny figure, “This morning! It’s been too long, I figured I would fly out.”

“Too long, hmm? Face Time not cutting it anymore?” She raises her eyebrows making me laugh instantly. She was joking but she was 100 percent spot of which was the funny part.

“You have no idea,” my eyes widen as I shake my head.

“I’m sure that’s the first thing you guys did,” she starts giggling.

“Actually, it’s been a pretty busy day for him. That’s okay though, I’m sure I can get some kind of sexual gratification just from staring at him if I try hard enough,” I start to giggle, noticing the look on her face had changed, she was smirking and she was fixed on something behind me. Just I turn to see what she was looking at, I feel a familiar pair of muscular arms wrapping around my middle.

His lips finding my neck this time kissing his way up to my ear before he stops to whisper, “I’d like to give you sexual gratification in another way if that’s okay?”

I turned around swiftly in his arms, looking up at him with my chest practically heaving, unable to catch my breath. Before I could think of what my next move was, his hand was tight in mine and he was pulling me to God knows where. We get to his dressing room, and he peaks his head inside looking from the left to the right. Once he knows no one is in the room, he swiftly tugs on my hand pulling me inside. In one movement he slams the door behind us then pins my body to the other side. My eyes raise to meet his lust filled ones. He lifts one of his hands and slowly tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. My breath hitches when his hand continues down the front of my body, stopping when he reaches the hem of my dress.

His fingers tease my thigh as he drags my dress up, “Mm, did you wear this dress on purpose?” he rasps as his lips ghost the shell of my ear.

Any ounce of self-control I had, immediately went out the window, “Maybe.”

He laughs, a full but quiet laugh. I could feel the corners of his mouth pull up into a grin as he continued to nip at my neck. His hands now toying with the strap of my thong, pushing them down my legs.

“Well…” his lips press against my collar bone, “I’m glad you wore it,” his hands cup my breast forcing a growl from my throat. I can feel his hard on pressing against my thigh and I don’t think I can handle any more teasing.

“P-please Jimin.”

“Such a needy baby, hmm?”

The next few seconds flashed by in a blur. His hands took purchase on the backs of my thighs as he lifted me up. My legs wrapping around his hips and my arms around his neck. In that short period of time he managed to pull his own pants down. My back is pushed up against the wooden door, with one hand he reaches down and lines the head of his cock up with my entrance and slides it inside at an agonizingly slow speed. His lips immediately attach to my neck, “Fuck, so wet for me.”

My hands reach up to his long hair, the hair that I had been dying to run my fingers through for months, “You feel so good. I missed your cock, ” I moan as my fingers tighten in his hair, tugging gently.His breath hitches and his pace quickens, his hands tight around my hips as he pulls me into him.

“Been craving you so bad, love how you feel baby,” He praises in-between moans, “Fuck, you’re close, I can feel it.”

With each thrust my walls tighten getting closer and closer to my release. The second his teeth bit down on curve of my neck; I was done. My legs stiffened around his hips, a moan falls from his lips when he feels me clench hard around him.

“Right. Fucking. There,” I demand as I start to come undone around him.

“Let go Princess, cum for me,” He coos into my neck, and that’s all I need to push me over the edge. Within seconds he was right there with me, his seed painting the inside of my walls. Leaving a dripping mess down my thighs.

As if on que, Namjoon starts to knock on the door- the door I was just fucked against, “Jimin, you need to go to hair and makeup!”

“I’m coming!” He yells, as we hear the boys snicker from the other side of the door. Apparently, the door wasn’t soundproof, and we were definitely not quiet. His cheeks turned a shade of red that I had never seen before.

He sets me down on the sofa and rushes to find a towel to clean me with. Finally clean, we adjust ourselves in the small mirror, making sure we looked okay before leaving the room.

“Are you satisfied for now?” He says with a devilish grin.

“As long as I get more of you later.” I smirk at him as he chuckles silently, leaning over to press a kiss to my temple.

I start to walk to the door and before I can I feel his hand grabbing mine, as he pulls me into him. His hand finds my jaw and his lips press to mine in a much more intimate way.

“I really have missed you,” He whispers as he rests his forehead against mine. I inhale as I pull him impossibly closer to me.

He pulls back and nuzzles his way through my hair kissing the area just below my ear, “After the show, I want to take my time with you,” he tells me before running his tongue along the shell of my ear.

Another set of banging on the door distracting us again. He pulls back and inhales deeply, looking down at me briefly before kissing me on the forehead.

“Sounds like we have a long night in store,” I tease, bringing my lower lip in between my teeth.

With another quick kiss he was gone, and I was left to think about the ways he was going to ‘take his time’ with me.

_________________________________________________________

A/N: Hey! Let me know what you think! It’s what fuels me :) Also, Im lowkey wanting to write a before and after to this story. Possibly like the phone sex they have when they’re apart, then the night they have following this. Whatcha think?

#bts #bts imagine #jimin #jimin imagine #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #park jimin #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #jimin x y/n

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Text

@tangleweave {{xx}}

Over the years since the apartment went from a home full of love and joy when Andy’s rescue-wing were stationed here in Brooklyn at Floyd Bennett Field to the expanse of emptiness that Stephen can see it is now; a museum of relics to the life Beth doesn’t live any more, she’s grown into it like a shell. Once through its doors, it is her fairy-tale tower where nothing is supposed to be able to touch her. Where she can lick her proverbial wounds that never seem to close fully on their own. Where she can stay frozen in stasis, wandering around inured to dreams that have all gone dark. And while she was far from where she believed she’d be by now, while she wasn’t even merely content, it was enough. She was doing good works. She was holding to the vow of first doing no harm. An ordinary life with ordinary things in them. Cutting herself off from almost everything she’d lost.

She doesn’t need to look around. She can see the massive loft apartment in her mind’s eye with an intimacy that most people never achieve. She should have taken down the guitars in their acrylic cases. She should have packed up the photographs. The ones showing what had been. None of them having been taken since after the funeral. She should have put her brother’s massive vinyl record collection into crates and from there into storage. They take up more room on the exposed brick than her various plants and surfboards do. Try as much as she might, she just can’t bring herself to do it. It might mean that she was ready to move on, and that is far from the truth. She holds onto things, the fragmented, the broken, the lost. With that same stalwart dedication, she tries to hold onto herself.

Dinner had begun half an hour before, precisely at 7:30 pm, just as it did every Sunday. Two courses down, two more to go. Not a single word had broken the terse silence at the large mahogany table where the Admiral sat at the head in his customary place and she’d been seated three feet away and to his right. She did not cringe a single time as forks and knives moved across porcelain dishes. The muscle in his jaw worked as he chewed and it felt like wordless castigation somehow even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. One hand lay limply in her lap, the other holds her fork poised over a mix of greens, but she has no appetite. All she really wants to do is drain her wine glass, daub at her lips with her linen napkin and beg to be excused. Just as she did every Sunday. And like all the rest of these interminable repasts, she isn’t able to effect her escape. The Admiral sets down his silverware ~actual silver, brought over from County Antrim~ and washes down his salade Niscois with chilled ice water. He reaches up and smooths down his carefully groomed moustache. Then he fixes her with his steely gaze, the same green eyes that her brother had had, the ones that rest in her own face, only his lack even the remotest speck of warmth. “You received your letter for your summer rotation. Were you going to tell me about it, Elizabeth, or was I supposed to find out when the papers reported on it?” Both hands are in her lap now, fingers twisted together, nails biting half-moon shapes into her palms. “No, Sir. I’m sorry, sir.” “I don’t want your apology, I want to know who they paired you with. I put in a word with Nicodemus West, on your behalf. He’s not in our orbit, but he’s patient enough and you’d be lucky to have him.” Her stomach becomes encased with ice. She’s never going to live this down in his eyes. Personal recommendation notwithstanding… “Thank you, sir. I’ve been...I've been assigned to Doctor Strange, actually.”

She might as well have told the Admiral that she’d committed war crimes while setting the American flag on fire. Oh how he’d raged at her. He called the man arrogant, an egotist of the first water, a New Money libertine that would only stain her already precarious reputation. He demanded that she speak to the board president or that he would make the call for her. Beth had then set her napkin aside and asked sincerely and politely if she might powder her nose. The Admiral understood what she meant, but couldn’t help himself with a parting shot saying that her complexion did look mottled. Once the door closed behind her, she immediately sat on the only space available, opened her purse and bypassed her compact completely. Instead, she grabbed her phone and fired off two very discreet emails. One to the rotation administrator accepting her three month work along, and the second to Stephen himself, thanking him for the opportunity, that she looked forward to working under his supervision. That would be the first of many personal emails between them. The first time she’d directly fought for Stephen, or more correctly, the first time she realised it. Beth had always had a competitive streak a mile wide. And with a class size of over six hundred students that year, she might have been one of the youngest students but by no means the only talented one. But the moment she’d stepped into the lecture hall, precisely three minutes and forty two seconds late, illuminated by the bright glow of the smart board because the only place to sit was at the very front row.

His stare could have impaled a rogue comet, and the lines around his mouth felt like chasms ready to swallow her whole. “Miss Riley, how very fortunate we are to be graced with your presence. I’m going to assume for the sake of argument that you felt your coffee order was much more important than this class, because you already know all there is to know about this particular case.”

When the earth was not kind enough to open up beneath her feet and swallow her before she’d had to admit her watch had stopped, she managed to glance at the words on the screen: Partially Thrombosed Giant Posterior Inferior Cerebellar Artery Aneurysm Mimicking A Fourth Ventricular Tumour. She fixed a demure smile to her lips and returned her gaze to meet his unflinchingly. “Depends, Doctor, on what you mean by that exactly. Posterior circulation aneurysms are less common compared to the anterior circulation aneurysm. Dissection distal Posterior Inferior Cerebellar Artery, better known as PICA, aneurysm is almost unheard of. In this case report, the surgeon assigned to this patient manages to diagnose her within six minutes of being presented to him. The woman had been investigated for gastritis, had undergone CT of the chest, abdomen, and pelvis because of reported symptoms and treated with anti-emetics before being discharged. She’d been treated and streeted three times over the course of ten months. Course of treatment prescribed for her by the diagnosing surgeon was for her to undergo endovascular drainage and removal of the Distal PICA aneurysm, and she made full recovery with resolution of symptoms.” The corner of his mouth twitched. Mirrored against her own. Beth happened to know this case specifically as he’d been the diagnosing physician. It had been his first year of residency on staff, and he’d saved a life that even his attendings would have squandered with their myopic views. She never admitted afterwards that he’d terrified her in those first few moments, even that one time they’d ended up doing sake bombs at Kura’s on St Mark’s Place, having successfully sneaked out of what happened to be the most boring retirement dinner the department had ever perpetrated. Nor had she ever forgotten the feel of his arm around her waist or the scent of his pressed silk shirt and the heat radiating off of him when he wrapped her in one side of his coat on the way back to his car because neither one had remembered to bring an umbrella. If she had to choose a moment when the first seed had been planted, when it had taken root and bloomed into the mess that came after, she would have had to say that was it. She would have been hard pressed to say what *it* even was.

Not that it ever mattered, it was all water under a very troubled bridge, and the paths of their destinies had been markedly different. That they entwined now after so long wasn’t something she could overlook but she didn’t want to because then she would then have to step beyond the shelter of ignorance and things would go on change.

Again.

Beth doesn’t hear him move. Everything is too loud. The water in the sink sounds like the rush of Manoa Falls, a place she hasn’t been for almost fifteen years but that she knows like the back of her own hand. The clock ticks with each beat of her heart, the hum of the refrigerator sounds like a roar, the traffic outside, the neighbours two floors down and their television. Her own pulse by itself is enough to deafen her and she can feel it starting to throb behind her eyes. But despite that, she can feel him. Each step, each compact flex of muscle, each breath comes ahead of his proximity and heralds the fact that he comes to a halt behind her and a little to her side. It’s everything she can do to hold back the feelings running amok through her but never once does she even think of flinching, not even when those fingertips graze her skin and it feels like sparks from flint and steel. Something stirs unnoticeably within her and greets the contact with a wave of slow vital energy almost as warm as faint morning sunlight. The same energy that not only sustains her plants but encourages them to thrive and grow. The same energy that often envelopes patients in her care and fosters quicker, greater healing even if she does nothing else but simply sit with them and converse. Beth isn’t even aware of it, it’s simply an act of being.

What she does know, however, is that she’s never really been able to keep even an ounce of what she feels out of her eyes and when he caresses her cheek and tilts her jaw, she has to close them. There’s too much of her there. Raw. Naked in a way that even if she stripped down to her skin she couldn’t be as exposed. And still the idea of shying away from him never occurs to Beth. If anything she has to stop herself from sighing. From turning and pressing all of herself against him, her face would come to the midpoint of his chest, right where his heart ought to be. If she did her hands would follow and bunch in the back of his shirt. Trembling in an embrace like that she would be able to hold onto exactly nothing and he doesn’t need or want those emotions, he’d said so himself in dozens of ways.

Just as skilfully as he wields a scalpel, he cuts through her with a few mumbled words ~Luke, 4: 23~ and her lashes flutter, her mouth starts to move but the words flee in the light of his gaze. Her nostrils flare as she tries to take a breath, as she tries to beat back the fires of miserable embarrassment like a seasoned smoke-jumper that she isn’t. The colour and sudden heat that floods her face is an answer in and of itself, perhaps a less than eloquent tale that demands explanation for which she has very little. But she sees the dawning of that understanding creep over him in shadow. She’s only distantly surprised that it’s taken him this long to put it all together, to examine it critically but with a professional detachment that was the one thing she had never been able to learn from him, try as hard as she might. And maybe it’s a glitch of language that his next words strike as hard as they do deep. That strangles something soft inside her and lets it lie broken between them.

She knows now, for certain, that he thinks her irrevocably damaged.

Five small, gentle fingers come up to his arms and rest lightly against his forearm where most of the damage resides. Beyond nerves and bones nearly ground to powder, beyond poorly sequestered tension running through them both, that touch begs his patience. It is also necessary to find some kind of stability that she doesn’t feel any more. She looks down, looks away.

“F-for what is worth,” she begins.

“Don’t laugh, it was highly traumatising for myself *and* the cat!” She does laugh though and covers her mouth to do so, fingers curling against her lips, little crinkles appearing at the corners of her nose where they meet her eyes. Stephen himself is so animated in the telling of the story that he shimmers in front of her like a heat haze rising up off summer-kissed pavement, and everything around them ~other patrons, the Samoan restaurant that’s closest to home-cooked food as she can find in all of New York, the ridiculously large ‘tiki’ cocktail for two they mistakenly ordered~ blurs out of clarity from her mind’s eye.

“Ho, Doctah, mebbe broke da….” she stops. “I mean to say, maybe we should put the breaks on-” “Why do you do that?” “Sir?” That slips out, unbidden. “When you’re relaxed, you have a distinctive Polynesian accent and then all of a sudden you clam up. You change it. I want to know why.” “It’s...it’s nothing.” She brushes him off and plucks a slice of pineapple from the rim of the fishbowl-sized glass. Reaches across the small space and teases his lips with it. His teeth flash as he snaps at it, gives it a couple chews before shunting it over to the side of his mouth. “You will answer me some day.”

She winks. “If can, can. If no can….HOT WINGS!” The waiter brings their pupu platter at just the right time.~

“It wasn’t..it was never…Other girls…it didn’t matter what you had to say, what you had to teach us. They wanted your body. I...I wanted your respect. I wanted you to see how much I learned from you. How much I admired and maybe even envied your talent. Your skill. Your brilliance. I lived for every moment we shared and with you...this.. This empty place in me didn’t feel so lonely. I never felt like I had to hold myself back, never that I was too weird. I...I thought you just understood because we were so much alike.” There was nothing that salt water couldn’t cure; tears, sweat, ocean tides. And for Beth, standing there so close to him, she can’t help herself and the gathered wet in her eyes start to slide down her face unchecked. “And then… then… when I realised that I’d messed up so hard…”

Beth feels her heart misfire in her chest, the off-beat a painful thing. “All I wanted to do was to protect you. And by leaving they couldn’t accuse you of anything. Even if you had no fault in what amounts to a stupidly impossible fantasy that, at the time, I thought was harmless. Only, it wasn’t. It was...stupid. It was… It was a mistake but one I couldn’t really take back, you know?” She laughs a little even if her face doesn’t hold any levity and the sound is a little too brittle. Despite all of her admittedly ignorant actions, she hadn’t even managed to reach completion. While she could visualise his long, slender fingers and imagine the calloused warmth of them trailing down her skin, the sensations were not the same. Not how she remembered it when he was fixing the gash in her chin and had at one point held her steady with his thumb all but caressing her lower lip. Or when he’d physically take hold of her hands to manoeuvre them in just the right way with tools that demanded unfathomable precision because one day a single atom one way or the other would make the difference between saving a patient or letting them die on the table. She couldn’t reproduce the warmth of his breath in her ear. The lean of his lithe frame bent over hers over a pool table where he taught her that not every game was eight-ball, the curve of his hand making a bridge with his much longer reach. The easy comfort of his arm around her waist and a slow shuffling waltz on a gala dance floor, the whole time listening to his diatribes about West that were so scathing she might have earned second-hand burns from them, and trying not to laugh. Her imaginary Stephen could never live up to the living, breathing man.

She risks looking up at him, afraid to see what might be written on his face.

“But no one can turn back time, an’ certainly not me. And I’m sorry...so sorry...that I left the way I did, with no explanation even if you deserved one. But at the time I couldn’t stand the idea of you ever being disappointed in me. Anyone else, Stephen, but not you. Never you.”

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capsironunderoos · 4 years

Text

Little One - Part One: “Species Age Differently.”

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Female Reader

Summary: Din Djarin is sent to collect a bounty that he has limited information on. What he finds on the journey is unexpected, complicated, and even a little green.

Warnings: Mentions of being a slave to The Empire, mentions of being kidnapped and sold by the Jawa

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: After finishing The Mandalorian, I was inspired to write a series following the events of the show. The reader in this story is Baby Yoda’s caretaker, and she is pulled along on Din’s adventures under the excuse of taking care of Baby Yoda, but eventually a few things will come to the surface. As of right now, the story will be eight parts to follow the eight chapters of the show. I am also toying with the idea of having a weekly update schedule but have not decided yet. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

There is more than one sort of prison.

For you, life had become a never-ending cycle of cell doors slamming shut just when things were beginning to become comfortable, when friends began to turn into family, when the prison cell that held you before was beginning to rust into nothing.

Your first prison held you captive for ten years, its guards resembling what some would call parents, but what you had come to know as empty shells that paraded around as if they existed amongst the living.

You could count on one hand the amount of times that either of them had told you they loved you as well as the amount of times you had eaten a full meal while living with them. Any credits earned went straight to the cantina that resided in the darkest part of your beautiful town on Alderaan. When your parents disappeared each night, you looked to your bedroom window, whose creaking panes held a glittering view of the palace.

Not a night went by that warm light ceased to stream from each window. If you fooled yourself enough to press your hands to the glass of the window, you could swear you felt the warmth of the immaculate parties kissing your fingertips.

It became a routine, a saving grace that filled your mind when your stomach ached with hunger. The routine began with a day of work to fund your parents drinking, with the credits earned stashed into their pockets as they whispered empty promises of the credits going towards a proper meal this time, or towards a new pair of shoes to replace the ones you could see your toes through. Following this was a cold night spent alone, aimlessly dreaming of the palace and the warm food the royals were no doubt serving to their infinite number of guests.

The routine became a prison, a system that frowned upon deviation in your mind because it was what kept you alive. The ten year old version of yourself did not see it that way then. You saw it as normal, even shrugging it off because surely all families behaved this way.

So, when you arrived home one afternoon from working in the repair shop down the street to find your parents standing with two Imperial Stormtroopers, your infant heart split to its core.

They had heard word of the Empire seeking out able-bodied children to bring up and into assets for the war and ultimately, the galaxy. They had also heard word of the credits to be involved in such a trade.

One prison then traded itself for another, and your second prison presented itself in the form of an Imperial apprenticeship with a droid repairman and programmer.

Elim Shik was a woman of strong will, who, like you, had been sold into the position she currently held. She despised the Empire and filled your head with dreams of a growing rebellion, a resistance. Elim sewed hope into your soul in the same way one tends to a garden. Small seeds at first, watered and tended over time, until an unavoidable garden roots itself deep into the soil.

You learned the trade she taught quickly, your small fingers working at speeds she had never seen before. Three years passed and you made friends with other apprentices, droids that you worked on regularly, and most importantly, with Elim. You came to learn that she would be the closest you ever came to having a true mother.

The idea of the prison that held you before and the one that you currently resided in began to slip into lost thoughts in fleeting moments as the garage you worked in began to assemble itself into a makeshift home. Elim had told you over the sound of her wrench on a translator droid that family wasn’t who you were born to, but who you chose. It had become your mantra.

But, three years with her would never be long enough, as shortly into the winter months of your third year, Elim died. There was no funeral for her, no mourners besides you. A prison that is constantly building itself up does not have time to stop and mourn the lost that die for it.

Your overseer promoted you into Elim’s spot and demanded you forget about her. When you obliged him, you locked the cell door of the prison back into place.

Eight years passed before you even heard the word hope uttered around you once again.

A new apprentice at the table across from you whispered to their huddled friends about a trio working to bring an end to the Empire. You wanted to have hope again, to hear the creak of the cell door as it wedged itself open, but you could not bring yourself to place your hope in a smuggler, a princess, and a moisture farmer.

Two years passed quickly and the young apprentice was proven right, the rebels had destroyed the Empire, buying your freedom and handing you the keys to the prison whose bars you had looked out from for thirteen years. You wanted to run, to find somewhere far away where no one knew your name, but when you learned that the princess who had brought down the Empire was from Alderaan, you jumped at the chance to be reunited with some piece of your home planet.

The Resistance offered new training, new skills to add to your already impressive list. For example, learning how to wield a blaster so effortlessly that even you could shoot circles around Han Solo.

You had found a place to reside in for the current season of your life, but, unbeknownst to you, it would evolve into a third prison.

Working your way through many ranks, you soon found yourself to be head of droid maintenance and repair, as well as assistant to the Resistance’s top doctor. You made friends, and even had a few dates with a few x-wing pilots. But even hope itself can falter and turn into despair and longing. You grew weary of repairing the same droids, tending to the same patients, and listening to the same war stories. Your heart ached to leave, to set out on a journey that would secure your place in all this.

When the princess and the smuggler were married, you began to save credits to embark on your trip. You slowly stopped showing up to work and cut off almost all communication with the few you had grown close to. On the day of your third prison break, you watched over your shoulder as you abandoned a sense of hope for a sense of purpose.

Asking around before you left informed you that Arvala-7 would hold free land as well as an opportunity to make a life for yourself, opening a shop and repairing droids while also reprogramming old Imperial ones.

When you arrived on the sand planet, you struggled for months, but ultimately your plan failed, and you mostly traveled from settlement to settlement, working for a few spare credits or a warm meal. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work, and for once it was not a prison. Your next prison would come in the form of a rolling tankard controlled by small creatures in brown robes.

A group of Jawa had kidnapped you as you slept on your ship, salvaging it for parts as they stored you with a room full of dusty droids. Days passed before they hauled you back into the sunlight of the sand planet, your eyes stinging and filling with water as they worked to adjust to the sun.

The fast talking Jawa holding your arm and causing you to stand slightly hunched over was bartering with two creatures in front of you. You had learned Jawa on the Resistance base, and you could make out that the two creatures standing in front of you were looking for something to perform the duties of a nanny droid, that could take care of a child without being able to be tracked by both the Resistance and the Empire. If you were able, you would have laughed and told them they had been sleeping for a few years because the Empire was gone, but it was neither your turn nor your place.

You kept quiet in the hopes that being sold into another prison could grant you a chance to fight your way out of it, instead of spending your days rolling around in a rusty tank.

After several minutes in the heat the duo agreed, and you were handed over. A quick speeder ride to a fortress teeming with guards and you knew that whatever you had been purchased to become a nanny for was very serious.

The duo that purchased you dragged you into a room holding nothing but a cot, a smaller makeshift cot beside it, a blanket, and a chair that seemed to be set on some sort of wheels, as if it would rock.

When you turned around to face them, a small pod had appeared between them, its doors sealed shut. You looked from them to the pod before stepping forward, pressing the button on the front to open it. What you saw inside struck something within you.

A small green being with ears longer than he was looked up at you with big brown eyes and a yawn to match. This was it, your place in all this, in this big wide galaxy. You were to be this young ones caretaker, to provide for him in ways these creatures holding you both hostage never could. The prison transformed itself into a home as you extended a finger in his direction and he wrapped his small hand around it.

---

Months had passed since that day and, though you were aware of the situation you were in, you couldn’t have been happier.

You and Little One, the name you had lovingly taken to referring to the young one as, were permitted daily walks outside, presented with meals far better than any you had ever eaten, and granted anything you asked.

It had been a warm day for most of it, as you sat with Little One in your lap in what you had deemed the rocking chair in your shared room. He faced you, his curious eyes so big and brown as they watched you while you rocked. You hummed a song you had learned during your time as a Resistance caretaker, when younglings would come in crying over scraped knees or a loose tooth.

Little One giggled in response to you smiling at him, and he moved to burrow further into your lap when you heard blaster fire coming from outside of the fortress. It ceased for a moment and Little One copied your facial expression, a smile coming to your face when you saw the little worry lines etching into his forehead.

The smile didn’t last long as the blaster fire intensified, and you began to sing the song instead of humming it, hoping to drown out the sound to keep Little One from hearing it.

You hadn’t been in the fortress long, but you knew that it had been years since the settlement had been attacked. Your mind raced with possibilities, the scariest of them being that whatever was outside was trying to get inside, and when it did, it was taking Little One away from you.

You pulled him to your chest, wrapping him in the large scarf hanging down from your neck and tying it to your back. He looked up at you in confusion, his large ears tucked close to his body in fear. You smiled warmly, cooing reassurances to him as you softly trailed your finger down the bridge of his nose.

He had begun to fall asleep just as the door to your room was thrust open with such force that it hit the wall, cueing dirt to chip off and cloud the room.

A creature, whose language you had come to speak, yelled at you to evacuate as quickly as possible. He urged you to take a speeder and to keep The Child safe. You agreed and followed him out of the room and into a large area where a few more creatures waited on him to return. When he did, they ran outside and the blaster fire continued.

You began to search around the room for an exit other than the obvious one at the front when the blaster fire stopped, and you could hear two sets of footprints making their way to the door which you currently stood behind.

“Oh for the love of the maker,” you cursed, ducking to crouch behind a pile of junk bought from the Jawa.

You calmed your breathing and clutched Little One to your chest as he slept in hopes that, if he did wake up, any noises he made would be muffled enough to keep you concealed.

Blaster fire started again, but louder this time as you realized they were shooting the door in order to get in. When the large metal fell to the ground, you jumped slightly, praying to whatever was listening that you and Little One would be spared.

A few more echoing steps into the doorway and you could hear the cries of a creature as it ran past your hiding spot, and towards what you assumed to be a duo, immediately getting shot and falling to the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut and leaned against the pile, beginning to rub Little One’s ear in order to keep him asleep and to keep you from screaming or doing something you’d regret.

“Where is it?” You heard asked in an altered voice, through a helmet most likely.

The distinct voice of a droid responded but you didn’t hear what it said over the increased beeping of a bounty hunter puck. Your heart sank; they would know you were both here in a matter of seconds.

Glancing down at Little One as the puck began to beep so rapidly that the sound ran together, you turned on your feet and slowly stood up, one hand holding Little One’s head and the other raised in defense, negation, and ultimately, surrender.

---

The large metal door drops loudly in front of Din and IG-11. They step through the doorway as the dust settles, their shadows projecting as if they were explorers in a new and uncharted territory.

Their guns are raised, waiting for the dust to clear so they can begin their search for the bounty. A last-minute attempt at escaping cues Din to shoot a creature down, watching as it falls a few feet in front of him.

When the dust finally settles, Din looks from IG-11 to the bounty puck he holds in his hand. He raises it to eye level and slowly sweeps it across the room, listening as it picks up speed when it lands on a pile of junk that only a Jawa would have access to. He nods to IG-11 and the droid picks up on his cue, blasters raised and aimed to both defend and destroy.

A few steps closer and the bounty puck has begun to beep so rapidly that the sound begins to meld together into one tone, continuous and reminiscent of a life monitor going dead. Din pockets the puck, all senses trained on the scrap pile in front of him.

“I am detecting two forms of life.” IG states beside him and Din turns quickly to look at him.

“What do you mean two? We were both told we were only going after one asset.”

“I am aware of our given information, but I possess abilities far beyond yours, and there are two sources present.”

Din begins to open his mouth again to counter the snide remark from the droid but stops when he hears shuffling from behind the pile. He and IG fall silent as their blasters become trained on the spot the noise is emanating from. Slowly, Din sees movement with the infrared screen of his visor.

IG was right, there are two life forms present but neither of them appear to be fifty years old.

A young woman, who is maybe a few years younger than him and is obviously holding a child, stands up with one hand cradling the child as the other raises in what Din recognizes as surrender, defense, and maybe even a warning. Although, the fear in her eyes and the underlying sorrow of her posture gives her away and diminishes any chance of her having a threatening presence.

Din lowers his weapon as he looks her over.

She is small but strong, her hair pulled away from her face to form loose buns in what Din assumes to be an aid in keeping unnecessary distractions, such as pushing stray hair out of her face, at bay. Her clothes are loose, allowing her to wrap the young one she holds in them whenever necessary to shield it from the world. And despite the loose gray cloth hanging at her sides, Din can still make out the shape of a blaster holster, although he knows it is empty. The creatures that held her captive would not make the mistake of giving this woman a blaster, the rebel tattoo on her exposed wrist makes sure of that.

“Please,” she speaks and though she is visibly scared and untrusting, hearing her speak would lead one to believe otherwise. Her words do not falter as she begins to beg.

“We are of no interest to the guild. Me and my child were brought here many moons ago after the Empire fell. We escaped slavery and have made something of a life here. I will aid in gathering supplies for your journey home, but I am afraid we do not have what you seek.”

Din glances at IG beside him, who still has his blaster raised and aimed at the child in this woman arms.

“My bounty puck says otherwise,” Din states and he’s surprised that his modulated voice does not cause her to falter as it has so many others.

“I believe we are not here for her, but the child she possesses,” IG tells Din and she begins to speak again, but this time Din cuts her off.

“I need to see your young one,” he states, harshly and without room for negotiation or arguing.

Finally, Din sees her falter. He sees her battling internally with whether or not she should reveal her baby to him and a droid or if she should risk fighting and making it out alive.

“If we are to gather a bounty we need to see the child,” IG states, reiterating Din’s statement but with even more force and an underlying tone of threat as he steps forward and brings his second blaster to aim. Din holds his right hand up to IG, and the droid looks to him.

“She will not comply if she feels threatened, this is the life of her young one we are dealing with.”

IG is hesitant to holster his weapons but does so because Din is right.

“Ma’am,” Din says as he turns to her again, “if we are to confirm your statement of us having the wrong child, we will need to see it.”

Din does not want to admit it, but he feels something stir in his chest when her eyes begin to well with tears. She steps around the pile and walks to Din and IG before stopping. Her clothes and hands still work to cover the young one from their sight. She looks up at Din.

“Please promise me that you will not harm him. He is all I have.”

“We cannot-“

“I promise,” Din cuts off IG and in return gets a sigh of disappointment from the droid. She nods and removes the cloth from his face and Din is filled with shock.

It is an infant, no more than a few months old. He is green, and his long ears flop against his cheeks. A small gurgle and a following coo and the feeling in Din’s chest increases ten fold although he still cannot put a name to it.

“I thought he was supposed to be fifty years old.” Din states without turning to IG. He is unable to look away from the creature in front of him.

“Some species age differently.”

Din is aware of this fact, and he is also aware that the small green being gripping tightly onto your shirt is not your biological child. He is a foundling, a young one you found and had placed into your care.

“This is the asset we seek.” IG speaks again and Din notices him raising his blaster once more.

The woman in front of him pulls the child to her chest, shielding him from seeing the blaster. The swift movement elicits a giggle from the baby and Din still cannot look away. The small ones laughter dances around in his helmet and he feels his ears grow warm with what he can only label as growing affection.

“You can’t kill it.” Din argues, voice still stoic.

“Proof of termination will result in a lower bounty yes, but a bounty just the same.”

The tears have welled up past the woman’s eyes now, and they trail down her cheeks. The feeling in Din’s chest is a pressure that almost renders him breathless.

“That’s not what I meant,” Din retorts gruffly, annoyed with the droid and reminding himself that this is but one of the many reasons why he despises them so.

“It is exactly what I meant.”

The woman slowly crouches into a ball, doing her best to shield the young one although her actions are futile. A blaster sounds and her body convulses, her hands jumping as they bring the child further into her chest.

Din lowers his weapon, IG falling beside him with a thud that cues her to look up at Din. He extends his hand to her and she accepts it, allowing him to help her up.

“Thank you.” She whispers and the young one in her arms has become exposed again.

He looks up at Din with eyes rounder than the moons of his home planet and the infant giggles at the sight of him. Din extends his finger to the baby and the baby eyes it suspiciously as he reaches out to take it, soft coos of curiosity accompanying his actions.

“You need to come with me. You and your young one are not safe here.”

“We will be just fine, you have freed us from our captors as well as a bounty droid.”

Din nods solemnly and releases the baby’s hand, finally finding the will power to look up and away from the child and into the eyes of the woman in front of him.

“If you wish for your child to grow up outside of this planet, or to grow up at all, then you come with me. If not, I will leave you here to be collected by the next bounty hunter that is most likely already on its way.”

Din turns on his heels then, making his way across the room and back through the door he entered in, smirking under his helmet as he hears the shuffle of feet and muffled giggles behind him.

Little One - Part Two: “I have spoken.”

#baby yoda #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando #mandalorian #little one #din djarin #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren #dyn jarren x reader #the child #star wars #star wars x reader #emwrites #underooswrites

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getreadytosmash · 3 years

Text

Small smash headcanons I was thinking of and to put out my reboot designs

Skaar

Skaar took a more gladiator look from his time on Sakaar and no longer wears the loin cloth except for when he's on off days

His hair gets to around his upper back and often tends to be in buns and ponytails

Working on his reading and writing and gets help from Hulk and goes to the Xavier Institute for sessions with his mind control and memories

Got introduced to queer stuff by Rick and he was THRILLED to find out about this stuff and the footage of Skaar carefully picking out non binary, asexual and panromantic stuff was trending for a month

Yes I'm going into pridecanons a little more

Skaar's very happy with his own feelings of being nb. The rocks below him whisper about it always being fine and he doesn't need to care about what others say anyway. Not when they're too busy calling him a monster to care about his gender

Anyway. Skaar's sex neutral and I say this because its quite often the theory that all ace folks won't have kids blah blah but??? Some aces want sex to have kids and that's Skaar.

Ridiculously good sword fighter and often meets up with Nightcrawler and Shadowcat to have sword fights and compare tricks

Lots of whipping scars on his back and some around his mouth that hardly anyone knows are from

Has a matching scar with Red of a circle on the back of his neck as well as running lighting scars up his hands and feet with Rick, Red and Jen from where the Skrulls tried to harvest their gamma

Absolutely has the tattoo and has no clue about it

Occasionally has days where he can't remember the entire event and Skaar's become rather thankful that they can rely on Rick's cameras to guide him home if needed.

Adores the Savage Lands and is best friends with Kazaar and Zabu

Sometimes copies memes from Rick and it’s terrible

Likes having Jen help him with normal stuff, especially when she helps him learn stuff like reading and writing

Rick

Yeah, can’t feel anything and that causes a few secret depression episodes aha

Big on other sensory stuff now. Really likes to savour sights, sounds, taste and smells since he lacks a big ass part of it now. It really isn’t that uncommon for Rick to have a low of flowers within his bedroom and shit.

Has to file down his spikes since they keep growing and often Hulk does it for him while Rick falls asleep

Rick needs a lot more protein now and often eats eggs or fish and gets into big fights with Red over it daily

Uses a stylish for everything since his fingers don’t work on touchscreens anymore

Often wears sleeveless jackets with different pins. Owns four of them with three of them entirely dedicated to alien, mutant and bi rights

Well known Youtuber and I really need to get around to writing some videos he’s done god someone remind me to put out that shit

Hardcore gamer and still screams at Samuel to help make a dating sim come oN-

Can hold his breath for an hour and a half and didn’t realise until he fell asleep in the bath and got woken up by Hulk panicking and tossing him out of the water

Very intent on mutant rights and often helps out with teenage mutants and raising the social status of the school

Loves bi culture and is very defensive over aspects of his identity after years of feeling lost among the orphanages

Has gotten more comfortable with his gender since he’s been wearing kilts and skirts for almost two years now

Used to have scars across his hands and thighs from years of canings from the nuns but now has a large cracked scar across his chest after Abomination ripped his shell off

Red unintentionally fathers him and blames Hulk

Best pals with Jen and Betty and is the only one who gets to join them on Ladies Night with Lyra and Marlo

Stands on his tip toes when talking to Hulk often because he wants to be tall and it amuses Hulk to no end

Jen

Has a lot of different costumes she changes regularly and Rick always posts a vote on “What outfit has Jen got this week?”

Freckles and curly hair galore

Hulk paints her nails and she does the same for him and it isn’t long before Skaar joins in

Works in New York but stays at Vista Verde for her time off

Yes i do want a all female gamma mutate team and yes they are A-force

They consist of Jen, Betty, Lyra, Carmilla and Marlo but are sometimes joined by other female heroes

Wears sweatband wrists, left one is the bi flag and the right one is the trans flag

Was afraid about being open towards loving women for a few years since Jen knew her father didn’t do anything about Bruce’s abuse, what would happen to her if Brian found out she liked more than boys? Came out after hulking out and is happier than ever

The same goes for being trans since Jen’s form is based heavily on her mentality of her body. Gamma gave Jen the body she wanted and she was SO pleased with it

tbh I do imagine she was more comic/noodle armed at the start since Jen wanted to look rather feminine but over time she’s gotten more comfortable with her body and idea of who she wants to be and slowly she got beefier

Has two wardrobes at the base and makes Red help rearrange stuff for laughs

Pals with Samuel and often enjoys sitting around and dragging him out for shopping and starbucks while discussing cases

The one who appears in Rick’s youtube videos the most

Can never finish a book and feels deep seeded adhd guilt

Sings outloud to every thing she hears

Likes grape flavoured stuff and she is so thankful that she can’t die for that sin

BEST pals with Betty and Rick. Like. There’s a reason my “Betty is the OG Hulk and is a lil wlw with Jen” has happened honestly

Has vitiligo patches of grey around her arms that were left over from her more traumatic transformations

Watches Red bake if she’s having a panic attack and the videos don’t help

Red

Has a lot of scars over his body from where Ghost Rider’s chain dug into him and left him burnt. idk seems really fucking cool

Like Jen, has yellow patches along his spine and hands from where he was joined mentally with Zzzax

Still gets nightmares about said incident and is still scared for the day that a nightmare is actually happening

Started to bake because it helps from when he couldn’t control his heat powers or during ptsd attacks

Tends to get lost in work alongside Samuel, especially if they’re overly excited about a certain idea

Hulk fondly calls him a nerd for this exact reason and Red tackles him over it to this day

Tech reacts to him badly sometimes due to his possession issues and there’s been once or twice where he’s had some...odd experiences when it’s come to certain technology or alien tech

Stays the same mostly with his outfits but occasionally wears a leather jacket and fuck it takes his shirt off a lot he’s a dilf he can do that

The one who crouches for humans the most and it isn’t uncommon for him to do it purely to unsettle the humans. Ass

Uh. Likes women but??? Sometimes there’s an annoying guy and shit being able to be easily suplexed now means that anyone who can do it can kinda catch his eyes and he fucked a demon- uh. Red has a lot of thoughts now about dating and it’s nerve-wracking

Still does missions with his Thunderbolt team and still hangs out with Hell’s Circle team when he met others that had been dragged down to hell as well

Gets courted by vampires and hates the fact that the others laugh at it

Gets nightmares of crashing, of electric burning him away but doesn’t want to admit to the fact that he has some ptsd

Not really Red but fuck it Betty has her own team and I’m shifting the Gamma Corps for Betty so her team involves; Betty (Harpy), Marlo (Sirin), Clay (Hulkverine), Lyra (Athen), Carmilla (Scorpion) and Gwen (Daydream)

Right. Uh. So for those who don’t know who Daydream are, basically the writer at this time had been going through a bad divorce and he treated Betty like SHIT which involved breaking Bretty up before they could have a child, making Betty suffer a miscarriage, killing her and having the villain Nightmare raping her in her sleep and having Betty give birth to Daydream who appeared for one arc and was never seen again. So. I’m mad.

anyway fuck him but I did like Daydream so instead she was an experiment from gamma base as a unique weapon that got used to infiltrate the Agents sleep but was later on rescued along with the rest of the gamma experiments. Got adopted by Betty when she found out Gwen had her DNA and went “oh worm?” to getting a baby i have more thoughts about this but u know. carry on.

Hulk

So Tired. Part time team leader and Avengers and even has his many own adventures of trying to help so many people out

I imagine he has a lot of the same issues as Steven in suf where Hulk often stresses out more about not being able to help people since he worries about the worst case scenarios

Gets forced to take days off by each of the team and appreciates it but dear god if he doesn’t get anxiety about the whole situation every time

SomeTIMES he wears a blue shirt but only sometimes and that’s if he’s actually prepared for missions. Also has boots Red got him but Hulk keeps those clean and safe instead

Team dad for a reason. Fathers anything he can get his hands on and well known for it enough that Rick and Skaar get him something for fathers day every year and Jen gets him goofy ties because she KNOWS he doesn’t throw them out

Pretty relaxed about being pan and yes he makes jokes about being attracted to kitchenware he’s THAT terrible Rick wants to die and not come back pls

Buys a lot of pride stuff for the others. Skaar owns so many nb and ace colour chalks he needs help

Really wants to own a guinea pig but he’s worried about scaring it or not being around all that often to take care of it properly

Falls asleep through almost every movie that he usually starts one half of it one day and finishes it the next day

Meets up with Ben Grimm and Logan Howlett every Wednesday for a night out. Usually they do bowling, play cards or go out to eat. It’s isn’t uncommon for other heroes like Spidey or Gambit to join them occasionally

Has business lunches with Betty to discuss movements of gamma mutates that turns into a fun brawl because they’re immortal children

Keeps a whiteboard in his room so that he can have arguments with Joe and Bruce.

Samuel

Keeps his outfit relatively the same but adjusts it slightly so it isn’t the exact same outfit he wears back when he was evil

Tends to cover up more after he gains a power that lets him control people just by touch

Aware of this power and thus often awkwardly flitters when someone near him might be upset and keeps spare gloves or arm sleeves on hard just in case

Has the sharpest teeth of all the hulks and actually tends to file them down so he doesn’t need to “scare people off” when in reality he’s self conscious about his teeth and the fact that he keeps biting his tongue by accident

Buys and redesigns Icarus’s cage every other month to make it more elaborate, is currently fighting the constant urge to buy more rats for this reason

Demiboy! Fine with what he is, doesn’t give a shit. He rules hell and he’ll send you there if you argue with him so who the fuck cares if Samuel wears dresses and makeup?

Big stupid bi. Cannonly into women who are more powerful than him with examples being Rikki (Aka Brilliance, a female Leader) who kicked his ass and threw him across the room with her more advanced mind, Betty Ross...who can blame him, and lately is that one scientist in Hulkverine who Samuel literally fell for within one night sksksk

Big manipulator for people he cares about. Samuel has and will make elaborate plans to keep someone he cares about safe and is more than willing to kill anyone who has hurt his loved ones

Owns a large collection of nail polishes and tends to vary them when he’s bored and creates amazing art. Red watched Samuel once spend and hour re-creating all of Van Gogh’s paintings on his nails

Really good friends with Betty surprisingly, mostly because she can make jokes about being dead and he’ll just snort and go “same”

Has the second best sense of smell after Skaar as he can smell early signs of sickness as well as a wider range of emotions

Info dumps so much and has long winded theories about the oddest things that resonate really well on the Youtube channel

talks to his oversized rat so seriously

Suffers nightmares and currently runs the Down Below and is so tired

Has actually died from exhaustion twice already

Has large sockets in his back due to the fact that Samuel physically cannot hold the information he knows all the time and uses it to charge his phone

Still hangs out with villains like Loki and Mystique tho

#Headcanon #found in body lost in mind (Skaar)#movie star (Rick)#green goddess (Jen)#one man army (Red)#the loneliest there is (Hulk)#he swims in a sea of regret (Leader)#hate and love are both red (Betty)

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shireness-says · 4 years

Text

Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way) [5/6]

Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~4.0K. Also on AO3. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

~~~~~

A/N: Last chapter of plot - next week is an epilogue. Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!

~~~~~

The days to come are a kind of blissful in-between: after the date and the kiss that changes everything, but before Killian’s tires have arrived and he’s back on the road again. The days are simultaneously too short and wonderfully long, the days too few and yet seemingly endless as Killian savors every moment together that he can. He makes a point to spend as much time with Emma as he can, knowing that their time will be far too short, taking her for ice cream and evening strolls and even letting Emma drag him down to the local bar and dance hall. He’d tensed as she’d pulled him onto the dance floor, far too aware of the many eyes around him — he’s far too aware that others think he’s trouble, and can only imagine what they think to see him arm in arm with the local golden girl — but the other townsfolk never show it. He thinks he might even see a few smiles among them, though that seems like it could be too much to ask for. As happy as he is to take Emma on the kind of dates she deserves, dancing and the like, he truthfully takes just as much pleasure in simply keeping her company during her late shifts at the diner, sitting in what is now his usual booth and flashing a smile just for her. There’s a gentle intimacy to this, being allowed to watch Emma in her own environment.

Still. As much he tries to revel in the moment, the future looms just ahead.

“I don’t know what to do, Belle,” Killian groans as softly as he can manage into the phone. Granny’s back hallway probably isn’t the best place for this conversation, but it begs having, and Killian isn’t willing to drive up David Nolan’s long distance bill. The downside of the public pay phone is that it’s not exactly private; other customers pass periodically, searching for the bathrooms or winding their way back through to the attached inn. It’s odd to even think, and Killian isn’t sure how it truly happened, but he seems to have earned some level of acceptance amongst the locals, just by virtue of becoming a regular face at the garage and at Granny’s in the last handful of weeks. Most even nod a greeting, or offer him a brief smile. It’s jarring, in the most pleasant way, to be met with a kind of amiable neutrality after growing so accustomed to distrust everywhere he goes.

That’s the benefit of staying in one place, he supposes: people come to know you, even just a little bit, even just enough to grow used to you and start to trust you. Those could be the seeds of a more settled life, if he wanted.

But that’s the whole problem — Killian isn’t sure he’s ready for that. Which brings him to this moment and this phone call, because it’s been nearly three weeks, and they’re expecting the replacement tires any day now, and Killian has a decision to make. Three weeks ago, there’d been no question — he’d be gone as soon as the tools were put down. Three weeks ago, however, he hadn’t yet met Emma — and Emma just might change everything.

The truth of the matter is that these last days with Emma have been the happiest that he’s lived in a long, long time, and he likes to think he makes her happy too. Her smiles and laughter and the way she chases after him for just one more kiss would suggest that to be the case. They went into this with open eyes, both knowing that whatever they became was subject to a ticking clock, but Killian still pauses when he thinks of leaving her behind. She deserves more than that; they both do.

At the same time, staying still isn’t an option. Killian’s great cross-country trek has, more than anything, been a search for a sense of self, a sense of purpose; finding someplace to call home is a far distant third on his list of concerns. Ghosts still haunt him, and though he knows the wind on his motorcycle can’t permanently blow them away, it helps. It’s nice to just not think for a few minutes. Even hours, if he’s lucky.

(Then again, kissing Emma achieves much the same effect, in a much more pleasurable fashion.)

“I can’t stay. I really… I don’t think I can stay,” Killian continues. “But how can I leave, either? What if I’m throwing away my one real chance to settle down, and be happy like that?”

“But is that really true happiness, convincing yourself into something because it’s the smart or honorable thing to do?” Belle asks. “Or is that just a compromise?”

Killian stays silent, letting her words run through his head. This is why he called Belle in the first place: she has a way of pointing out the real questions he needs to ask himself without any judgement or demands.

“You don’t need to have an answer now, and you don’t have to tell me when you do,” Belle continues, “but if you’re as taken with this girl as you tell me, it’s not fair to her if you stick around but constantly dream of leaving again. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Killian can hear the soft tenderness in his own voice; no doubt Belle can as well. “And that’s the biggest reason I can’t stay. She deserves more than a man who would always wonder what he gave up. It’s not just places I want to see either, Belle. It’s… at the risk of sounding like some terrible cliche, I’ve felt like a shell of myself for a long time. The words shouldn’t be me, but they were an important part, and I lost them. Flying down the highway, seeing all the wonders this blasted place has to offer… that’s the only time it feels like the words might be in my reach again. I deserve the chance to figure out who I am after all this, even as Emma doesn’t deserve a man who will otherwise always be a little bit empty.” Killian sighs. “That doesn’t make it any easier to think about leaving her behind.”

“You could always ask her to come with.”

Killian’s heart leaps in excitement at the very idea, but he quickly forces reason to tamp it down. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Whyever not? I thought you said she had a bit of wanderlust herself.”

“Yes, but…” Killian struggles for an answer, feeling like his brain is tripping over itself. “Storybrooke is her home. She’s got a family here, people who love her and would miss her. I can’t take her away from all of that.”

“Maybe that’s a decision she gets to make,” Belle replies gently. “Maybe she’ll surprise you. Maybe she wants the same thing, a chance to see what else is out there. You won’t know unless you ask.”

“Maybe.” Even as Killian says it, he knows that it’s a dream too big. He’ll never risk it — and Belle probably knows that too.

“It’s up to you, Killian,” she concludes, “but think about what’s best for you, now and later, okay? You deserve to be happy just as much as she does.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once Killian hangs up the payphone, he fights the urge to slide down the wall into a crumpled heap. Even after his talk with Belle, there’s still no good answers.

He’s got a lot to think about.

———

As long as Killian doesn’t think too closely about their looming, unknown deadline, he can luxuriate in the sheer quiet joy of spending time with Emma. It’s easy to get used to her kisses and easy affection and the way that she has a special smile just for him when he walks into the diner. It’s a beautiful respite he didn’t know he needed and is certain he doesn’t deserve.

But far too often and too quickly, good things must end.

The new tire arrives on Thursday. Killian does his utter best to ignore it. As eager as he was to get in and get out of this little nowhere town three weeks ago, that’s all changed because of Emma. The itch under his skin is as strong as ever — the desire to blow all the dreams and pain away upon the winds — but his attachment to Emma, though new and young, is deep. She’s a balm to all his lingering wounds, a bright spot in his days that he never thought he’d find again, and the idea of leaving her is near unbearable, even if the idea of staying is just as suffocating.

There’s only so long he can pretend to work off a debt he’s long since paid, though, and while David will never say anything, Killian sees the confused looks that the other man sends his way each day those tires continue to sit on a shelf.

“You know, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” David mentions with an affected air of casualness as he works on the undercarriage of someone’s truck. Killian has been drafted to assist — though it seems to be just an excuse to trap him into conversation, considering that the only way he’s been helping is to hand over tools that David could just roll out and retrieve himself.

Killian braces himself against the truck’s bed, sighing heavily. He can’t help the exhalation; inside his head, all of Killian’s different desires war with each other — to stay with Emma, to leave for her own good, to leave for his own good. Underneath it all, though, is that same itch that’s driven him forward ever since he landed in this country, and it only grows stronger every day.

Staying was never really an option — not when he still needs wind whipping past his face to ground him every day.

“I know. But I can’t,” he finally replies, head bowed in a pointless instinct to hide his gaze from a man already obscured.

David rolls himself back out to the light. “Why not? Has anyone made you think you couldn’t? Besides Graham, I mean, and that really was just a misunderstanding —”

“No, it’s not that. I’ll have to disagree about the sheriff’s intentions, but you’ve all been… wonderful. You, and Mrs. Nolan, and… Emma.” Killian stutters for a moment over her name; though they both knew going in that this wouldn’t end in anything lasting, it had been easy to forget that in a week and a half of bliss, and she’s the one who stands to hurt the most. Still, he must press on. “Better than I deserve, really. And I know you’d welcome me with open arms should I choose to make your little hamlet home. But it’s… I’ve got this compulsion to keep moving. Chasing something, or running away from something, I don’t even know anymore. But one day… I hope I’ll figure it out, and that feeling will settle.”

David hums, taking the time to replace his tools. If Killian’s not mistaken, it’s a stalling tactic. “You know, Emma has this theory,” he finally says, “that home is the place that when you leave, you just miss it. She and Mary Margaret spent a week — not even a week in Portland shopping for wedding and household things. And that was it for her. She and Mary Margaret were still in this terrible little apartment, but I’ve never seen her happier to be there. Gave me the biggest hug when she saw me as I came to pick up Mary Margaret for a date.” David smiles fondly at the memory. “I suppose what I’m saying is… maybe it takes some distance to realize what you want. And we’ll always be happy to welcome you back, if you choose to return. You’ve got a job here if you decide that’s what you want.”

It’s a lot to offer him, Killian knows — more than he expected. This entire town and all the people in it — especially the Nolans, especially Emma — are all more than he ever expected. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

David just nods before grabbing a different wrench and wheeling back under the body of the truck, but Killian thinks there’s an understanding there — that I can’t stay doesn’t mean not ever, just not now. There’s a time and a place for everything in life, and the place Killian’s at right now isn’t nearly settled enough for tranquil little Storybrooke.

He shouldn’t have counted on David keeping that information to himself, however. Half the reason he’d avoided the matter of the tire in the first place was his own uncertainty about how to broach the topic with Emma. She deserves to hear from him that he’s leaving again, but all attempts he makes to imagine that conversation feel inadequate — too flippant, too detached, too lame. Decidedly not what she deserves.

Trust his Swan, however, to bring it up all on her own.

“So,” she starts, arm linked through his as they walk down Main Street together, “what’s this I hear about a tire?”

Killian’s heart jumps into his throat; without even intending, he slows their pace to barely a shuffle. “So you heard about that, then.”

“David’s not great about keeping secrets from Mary Margaret, and Mary Margaret isn’t great about keeping secrets from… anyone, really.” Emma chuckles at her little quip, but it doesn’t hold the joy Killian’s grown accustomed to in the past weeks.

(God, when did he allow himself to become accustomed to that — or anything? He was never supposed to stay longer than a few weeks, and this only makes it harder.)

“I want to tell you, but…” Killian trails off. But what? He was scared? He was conflicted?

“It’s alright, Killian,” she smiles back, albeit weakly. “We always knew this was coming.” Emma gathers a deep breath as if to steel herself for what else she has to say. “So how much time do we have left, then? I know the road must be calling you again.”

But you are too, Killian doesn’t say.

“Two days,” he says instead. “Three at most. David and I got Mr. French’s delivery van settled today, so we’ll be able to put the bike back together tomorrow and I can hit the road the next day, or the one after.”

“That’s not much time,” Emma replies softly, looking down at their shuffling feet as if she can’t bear to meet his eyes.

“No.”

(You could always ask her to come with, whispers Belle’s voice in his head. He’s not nearly brave enough to listen to it.)

Killian feels Emma take a deep, strengthening breath before she lifts her gaze to meet his again. “Then we’d better make the most of it.”

———

The next evening, Killian takes Emma for a ride on the newly-functional motorcycle, trying the whole while not to think about how this feels like goodbye. He remembers how she’d asked, one of those first nights, flirting even though Killian couldn’t see it, didn’t want to see it. Emma had gasped in surprise and delight when Killian came to pick her up after her shift (an early one, today, that lets them take a little cruise as the sun sets before them), drawn out to the diner’s front windows by the putter of the engine.

“Are we going to go for a ride?” she practically demands. Not that Killian minds, as long as he gets to see the grin that splits her face from cheek to cheek.

“As far as you want,” he promises.

(It was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but ask her to come with echoes louder and louder in his head with each passing hour.)

Killian helps Emma onto the bike as best he can while straddling the seat himself, but she doesn’t prove to need much assistance, still steady even as she swings a leg over the body. It takes some doing, but he manages to crane his body around far enough to press a lingering kiss to her lips.

(Not their last, not their last, his heart insists, but his brain still whirs in a panic of not enough time like another engine he’ll have to fix.)

“Are you ready, love?” he asks when they finally break apart. Emma nods enthusiastically. “Then hold on tight.”

It’s almost idyllic, cruising through Storybrooke’s back roads with Emma’s arms twined around his waist. She particularly seems to love the straight stretches of road where he can really test their speed. As the wind whips past their faces, Emma giggles and shrieks with glee behind him. Other women might have been nervous about the bike, or fretted about the number the wind will undoubtedly do to their hair, but not his Swan. It’s obvious she’s having the time of her life, and Killian feels grounded in a new way to feel her body perched behind his.

(Come with, come with, could come with…)

“God, I see why you love that so much,” she chuckles as they roll to a halt at the pier. Killian will never get back in the water, but there’s still something soothing about the endless horizon. “It’s exhilarating.”

And maybe it’s the joy in her voice, or the way she smiles as she swings off the bike again. More likely, it’s the result of the words that have been rattling around inside his skull ever since he talked to Belle. Whatever it is, it dissolves any filter between Killian’s brain and his mouth and the words come tumbling out before he can stop them. “You could come with me,” he blurts out in a rush, only to flush red as he realizes what he said. That was not remotely something he meant to say, but it’s out there in the world now, his heart dropped at her feet for her to pick up or kick aside.

Not that she’s done either, yet. Emma stands shocked and still in front of him, eyes wide like she can’t believe what she’s just heard. That’s a reasonable reaction; Killian certainly can’t believe that he just said it.

“What did you say?” she whispers.

“Nothing, Swan, don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have said anything —”

“But you did,” Emma says, interrupting his backtracking. “Did you mean it?”

Killian sighs, sweeping his hand through his hair in yet another nervous tic. She probably knows all of them by now — the hand in the hair and the scratching behind his ear and all the rest of it. He’s a mess of a man, which makes him all the more certain that no matter what he might want, he can’t possibly deserve her. “Aye, I did,” he finally admits. “And I know it’s foolish, because I can’t possibly ask that of you, not when you’ve got a place like this to call home, with people who love you. Not when you’d have to put up with me. But it’s what I want.” He whispers it like a shameful secret. And maybe it is, a little bit — after all, he knows better than anyone that no matter how much he wants doesn’t mean it can ever happen.

“And why would you ever think that’s foolish?” Emma asks softly, stepping into his space to rest her hands on his shoulders.

“I mean —”

“I told you once that I wanted to be brave with you, and that it was my choice to make. I meant it then, and I mean it now, too.” As Emma pauses to stare into his eyes, Killian feels hope flutter in his chest, stronger and brighter than ever before, only to burst to glorious life as she finishes. “So ask me.”

It only takes a moment to swallow his nerves. “Come with me, Emma. Let me show you the world.”

Emma’s hands move to his face, stroking her thumbs along his cheeks to coax him into a smile to match her own. “Yes,” she says, softly, emphatically, lovingly.

And Killian finally allows his dreams to soar in flight.

———

Their goodbye is sad, even though Emma assures everyone that it’s not forever.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” she tells Mrs. Nolan, whose eyes brim with tears just waiting to fall. “We both will be.”

“I know that,” Mrs. Nolan insists. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you! It won’t feel right, not seeing your face around town every day.”

“Promise me you’ll look after her,” David says quietly as Killian secures the saddlebags on the motorcycle. Emma has proved to travel light, just like him; she’d showed up with nothing more than a satchel, a tightly coiled bedroll, and a beaming smile. “Because Emma is special, and I don’t know what we’ll do if something happens to her. Or, more accurately, I don’t know what I’ll do to you if something happens to her,” he tries to joke, stretching a weak smile before falling back to something more serious. “She’s very precious to us — to all of us.”

“I know,” Killian replies, cracking a small smile as he watches Emma hug her friend. “She’s very precious to me, too. I promise that I’ll do everything in my power — everything and then some more — to watch over her and keep her safe.”

“Good.” David offers his hand to shake, and Killian grasps it firmly in return. Maybe it’s a sealing of the promise; maybe it’s a gesture of friendship; maybe it’s a little of both. Whatever the case, Killian feels something pass between himself and David: an understanding, almost a sort of peace.

Emma slides an arm around his waist, apparently done hugging and bidding farewell to her crowd of admirers. Killian could swear half the town turned up in front of the garage to send her off — Granny and Ruby, Sheriff Graham, Mrs. Nolan, and a whole slew of other people he only halfway recognizes. She’s obviously much loved; Killian could tell that even without David’s little speech.

“Ready to go?” she asks with a wide and happy smile. He’d understand if she was nervous, or scared, or sad, or anything else; that would be reasonable as she’s about to embark on a journey into the unknown with him. There’s only excitement in her gaze, however; it’s obvious she’s got a wanderer’s heart of her own.

“Whenever you are, love,” he smiles back.

It’s a matter of a moment to swing his leg over the body of the motorcycle and let Emma clamber on behind him with David’s help. As Killian starts the engine, the other man drops a kiss to Emma’s forehead that Killian pretends not to notice.

“Godspeed,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Killian to hear. “And you make sure to call and keep us posted, alright?” he concludes in a louder voice.

“Of course, dad.” Killian can practically hear her roll her eyes, but he can hear the fondness, too. In a last gesture, Emma leverages herself off of Killian’s shoulders to press a kiss on David’s cheek. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Tears gleam at the corner of David’s eyes, but he plasters on a grin anyways. “Now go on, hit the road before the sun gets too hot!”

Killian doesn’t need to be told twice. In a flurry of waves from Emma and her crowd of well-wishers, they slowly cruise back down Main Street, picking up speed as it gives way to a country highway.

“Are you ready for an adventure, Swan?” he asks as she twines her arms tighter around his waist, craning his neck to meet her gaze.

“With you?” she smiles back. “Always.”

~~~~~

Tagging: @kmomof4, @aerica13, @thisonesatellite, @searchingwardrobes, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @ohmightydevviepuu, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @spartanguard, @scientificapricot, @snowbellewells, @welllpthisishappening, @tiganasummertree, @captainswanbigbang, @snidgetsafan, @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #csrt #Wherever You're Going (I'm Going Your Way)#50's au #my writing

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mythologyfolklore · 4 years

Text

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 17

Chapter Seventeen: The gods during the dark age

“My, those were a few messed up mortal centuries!”, Zeus exclaimed.

The legendary kings of old were no more and the last heroes had finally passed away; Menélaos and Helene, who had been granted a prolonged life, had died together and their souls had been carried away to Elysion, where many of their friends were waiting for them.

“Now that this mess is over, I think mankind should have a break – preferably several centuries.”

“U-huh”, Apollon agreed. “The Age of Heroes is over now. Soon the people who worship us will forget how to even write. The old cultures are dying.”

“So they won't remember us? We will be forgot?”, Hera asked, bewildered.

“Not really”, Zeus soothed his wife. “We will remain in their collective memories. In a few centuries, they will relearn how to record things and stories. They will remember us again and this time, they will write about us. Mankind won't forget us, just where our worship came from and who we once were.”

“But can't we just make them write everything down now, instead of letting them forget?”, Athena objected.

Zeus shook his head. “No, my child. We have been meddling way too much lately. Humanity doesn't need us now, it needs rest. It needs time.”

The goddess of wisdom sighed sadly, but didn't protest any further.

What were centuries to humans were but decades to the gods.

During that time, they focussed on their own lives.

And on their family.

Eris had damaged the bonds between the gods during the great war, but now it was time to repair their family ties.

Of course Eris and Ares' twin Enyo received a house ban; Zeus was now hundred percent done with the quarrelsome nature of his daughter and of the daughter of Nyx. Not only he – the other Olympians applauded, when he announced his decision.

It was a lot more peaceful and a lot more quiet.

Without Dionysos' constant partying it would have been too quiet.

It had been ten Olympian years now and Ares was still travelling the world.

Sometimes he wrote letters to them, but he wasn't much of a writer and his messenger bird needed a while to get to Olympos from wherever its master was.

None of the Olympians would have admitted, that they were happy about the war god's letters. Except for Aphrodite of course; she was quite openly joyful every time the divine vulture arrived with as many letters as it could carry in its talons.

Today was such a day.

They were holding council, when Iris came in.

Zeus rose from his throne. “Iris, this better be an emergency. You know that no one is allowed to disturb the council meetings of the Dodekatheoi, unless the matter is important.”

Iris cleared her throat: “Forgive me, my king, but here is a letter from Ares.”

The meeting was forgot instantly and everyone jumped up.

The eleven Olympians gathered around the rainbow-haired messenger, until Hera snatched the roll of papyrus from Iris' hand.

“Let us see it!”, Aphrodite demanded.

“Everybody settle down!”, Zeus commanded. “Hera, give the letter to me. Let's gather around Hestia's hearth and I will read it to you all.”

So they all did.

Hestia eyed them curiously, as they all gathered around her warm and friendly fire.

“My dear sister, our goddess of the hearth”, Poseidon spoke, “We want to have a little family moment in your peaceful presence.”

Hestia smiled through her flame and it became just a little brighter, as her aura of domestic harmony spread out.

As they all sat down on the floor, Zeus unrolled the scroll and began to read:

“9th Maimakterion¹ (I think)

Dear family,

sorry for not having written to you in a while. Been kinda busy lately. I just arrived here. I'm being on the move a lot, so I don't stay in one place for long enough to have something to write about …”

Zeus huffed: “And he's not even telling us where he is!”

“Read on”, Hera urged.

Her husband went on: “I'm kinda on the other side of the world right now. Kinda boring here in Polynesia – oh, so that's where he is – but it's fun to fly above the Pacific Ocean with the wind. The ocean is so huge, that I need ages to find the tiniest islands. And even longer to find islands where gods live. The communication is awkward, because I don't speak their language and vice versa. Worse, they seem to speak, if not a whole other language, then at least a different dialect on each island. Even using sign language is problematic sometimes. But they seem friendly enough and they do seem to understand the concept of host and guest exchanging presents. There are a few things I have memorised so far, mostly a bunch of prohibitions called Tapu². Some of them are pretty dumb, if you ask me. Then again, once I manage to tell them about my home land, they would probably think some of our traditions pretty stupid too (reasonably so, if you ask me). The peoples of Polynesia have no writing system and neither have their gods.³

So yeah. I'll be staying here for a few mortal decades. Boring as it is around here so far, it's also weirdly relaxing and maybe I will finally get the hang on those Polynesian languages and their culture, which is pretty similar between all these scattered islands (luckily for me). Perhaps then I'll be able to tell you guys more.

That's it.

Sorry for this letter being so short, but there really isn't much to write about right now (also I'm running out of writing material). Maybe I'll go to Australia next.

Sending you gifts from the indigenous gods. They may be simple compared to the last ones, but they were made with love, so you better appreciate them.

Lastly, I'm fine and hope you're too. I'll let you know, when I come to Australia and how long I will stay there, so you too can write to me and tell me how you're doing. I haven't heard from y'all in a while and … well, I just think about you guys a lot. Wish you were here.

Love and miss you all and wishing you happy early or late birthday, because I can hardly congratulate you all punctually.

Always yours, Ares.”

Zeus rolled the letter up. “That's it. The letter really is way too short. Such a shame.”

“Show us, what else he sent us!”, Aphrodite demanded.

The King of the Gods rolled his eyes, but opened the magical bundle the letter had been attached to.

“Ah, look at that!”, he cried, when he pulled out a huge-ass shell. “I think that one is for you, brother.” And handed it to Poseidon.

The sea god laughed and cradled the shell in his lap.

Afterwards each and every of the Olympians received a present of some sort.

Athena grinned, when she was handed a harpoon.

“Don't even think about it!”, Poseidon snarled.

“Too late!”, the wisdom goddess smirked.

“Ah, this is also for you too, I think”, Zeus said, when he fished out a bundle of scriptures written on tree bark, probably because Ares had run out of papyrus.

Athena skimmed over a few of them and smiled. Ares had sent her an account about what he had understood about the culture of the people there so far. How thoughtful of him.

“Here are a few recipes for Hestia – oh, he even has some gifts for Hades and Persephone! Flower seeds and … oh great, more of those creepy masks. Hades will love them.”

“Did he not send anything for me?”, Hephaistos inquired glumly.

Zeus searched through the package. “Doesn't look like – ah, here! 'Dear brother, sadly I haven't found a people that knows metal work so far, so have some photographs.'”

The divine smith beamed and took the stack of photographs.

“Show them to us, pleeeease!”, Aphrodite begged.

Hephaistos handed them around, so the other gods could look at them too.

After the gods had passed the pictures around with lots of chatter, they each tucked their respective souvenirs away and sat in comfortable silence.

Eventually Aphrodite whispered: “I miss him so.”

“Me too”, Hephaistos agreed quietly.

“As do I”, Hermes admitted. “Even though he calls me squirt and pipsqueak all the time.”

Athena spied Zeus and Hera clasping each other's hand – they missed their son too, even though they didn't say it.

Even she herself did miss her prick of a half-brother.

It just seemed too quiet around here, even with Dionysos throwing a party at least once a week. It felt wrong, not seeing him every day, not hearing his dumb suggestions and annoying rambling about violence and the horrors of armed conflict, seeing his throne empty in the assembly … and having someone to spar with. She couldn't even train with Enyo, because the goddess of bloodlust and violence had a house ban (and Zeus was showing no sign of lifting it anytime soon).

Even not hearing the inevitable insulting nicknames felt off by now.

It was lonely without her volatile counterpart.

Not that she would admit it.

A few months later, the Olympians got a letter saying that he was in Australia.

“You wouldn't like it here”, Ares wrote. “The part of the continent where I'm in is unbearably hot (the deserts of Egypt are a dream compared to that) and the gods around here are actually ancestral spirits, rather. They're really benevolent, but you wouldn't like their life style. They're nomads, which honestly is no wonder, because the great desert is … well, pretty damn dry, so staying in one place wouldn't make any sense. They live as hunters and gatherers, just like the mortals here do. Australia has a unique flora and fauna though. In other words, it's fine, if you're tough and can live without the comfort of our civilization.

Btw, I've heard stories about a rainbow snake, who is asleep during dry season and shouldn't be woken up from their slumber. I think I'm gonna wake them up.”

A few weeks later, he updated them: “Waking up the Rainbow Serpent was a shitty idea. The indigenous gods and mortals are now pissed at my stupidity (and my disrespect). The Serpent was really pissed at being disturbed, caused one Tartaros of a thunderstorm and set the whole area underwater. But hey – this place really could use the rain.”

The Olympians laughed; this was just such an Ares thing to do!

Not long after, they got a letter from the New World.

Ares was in South America and travelling up the continent. He would then move on to North America, he wrote, and once he was done there, he would cross the Atlantic and stay with the Norse gods for a while, before returning to Hellas and Olympos.

Zeus put the letter down and sighed: “I hoped that he would return to us right away, as soon as he's back on our continent.”

The other Olympians nodded glumly.

But there wasn't much they could do; they couldn't keep Ares from visiting his old friends, especially when he was so far away.

A few Olympian years later, Ares had finally got his arse up to leaving the Americas and the first European pantheon he stayed with was the Norse one.

“Welcome, Ares, son of Zeus!”, Óðinn greeted the Olympian. “Your father told us, that you were on a journey. I hope your travel was safe?”

“Yup!”, Ares grinned. “Safe and fun! Sorry for just showin' up here, but thanks for havin' me anyways. So good to be here and see y'all! How're ya doin'?”

“Just fine, thank you”, the one-eyed god replied.

“HOLY COW, ARES, IS THAT YOU?!”

Before Ares could respond, he was pulled into a bear hug by a giant of an As with flaming red hair and eyes.

“Hey, Þórr”, Ares choked, squirming in the thunder god's embrace. He didn't worry about the three-quarters-Jötunn crushing him, but damn, he couldn't breath!

“Oh, sorry!”, Þórr laughed sheepishly and put him down.

The Hellenic god gasped for air, before grinning from ear to ear. “Missed ya too, man!”

Ares, who wasn't exactly a small man either, still barely reached up to the Norse god's shoulder and had to stand on his tippy toes to hug the other back.

“What have you been up to?”, Þórr asked.

“Travelling the world, meeting new people, seeing new places – oh, hey, Týr and Freyja!”

“'Sup”, Týr responded and Freyja waved.

Óðinn cleared his throat: “Anyway, my friend, how about you settle down first? Let's find a place for you to stay. And once you have rested a little, how about we throw you a celebration worthy of a divine guest such as you?”

Ares beamed: “Awesome! Your hospitality is one of the greatest things around here – apart from your battle prowess, of course!”, he added with a wink and everyone laughed.

He was received with all honours and it had been a while since he had felt home like this.

The panthea abroad had been nice and all, but their definition of hospitality was completely different, sometimes downright dubious. This was what he knew; the Germanic and Hellenic peoples had their hospitality in common. And the crazy parties of the Norse gods were right up his alley.

He had been invited to stay in the halls of Óðinn himself and that was fine with him. While the one-eyed god had his own brand of creepiness (which was reflected in his Kenningar: Raven God, Father of the Slain, Father of Victory, Hanged God, Foretelling God …⁴) he was a fine host … most of the time.

That evening he was laughing and dancing with his hosts (and watching out for a certain trickster, who likely would try to prank him).

A few of the gods were looking on in envy, as Ares danced wildly with Freyja, laughed heartily with Þórr and even had an arm wringing match with Óðinn (turned out the Allfather was a lot stronger than he looked) which ended in a draw.

There was some amusement, when Ares got into a little spat with Óðinn's blood-brother Loki.

The trickster had the tendency to roast everyone, when he was drunk – good to see, that this hadn't changed in all those centuries.

The Æsir just rolled with it, obviously having heard it all before.

Ares on the other hand (though he too was used to being roasted) had no intention to let it slide and perhaps escalate; this was a party, not an assembly or battlefield.

After a short banter with the trickster (that he lost, because even drunk Loki was more eloquent and witty than him), he just made short work of it and carried the smaller god off, to where he knew Loki's own house to be.

“Foxy jerk made trouble again?”, Sigyn deadpanned, when she saw her drunk husband squirming on the taller god's shoulder.

“Just some roasting”, Ares told her and dropped the fire giant unceremoniously. “Not really trouble. Still, I think he needs a nap.”

“Sure does”, Sigyn snarled.

Ares almost laughed, when the tiny goddess dragged Loki off, grumbling about how “the foxy jerk” made nothing but trouble and so on.

Olympos, 4th Poseideon⁵

My dear love,

thank you for telling us you're in Asgard.

Your children and I have been anxious, since you haven't written to us in a while.

We're doing okay and it's good to know that so are you.

We hope you have lots of fun in Asgard.

But you really should come home soon.

We miss you all so terrible, even your parents and – you won't believe it – even Athena misses you! Of course she would never admit that, but I know she does; women just know these things, you see. Things down on earth are starting to get interesting too. This one city in Italy, Rome is its name, is showing great ambition. The Italian gods are starting to get more ambitious too. Venus is a bit obnoxious at times and it pisses me off, because Aineías was my son, not hers! And don't get me started on Mars – I know, you hate him.

But to more pleasant things; the rest of our family is okay too, but your father has been very glum lately, I don't know why.

Hephaistos is working on improving his far-speakers and cameras even further, though he did that just last year. Oh well, I guess a genius is never truly satisfied.

Eris and Enyo are alright too, I think. At least Athena says so – she meets them more often than I do. Athena is in a bad mood, because she has no one to spar with – she's complaining that sparring with Enyo just isn't the same.

But I must go now, your mother is stress-baking again and I want to get at one of her delicious cakes.

I love you lots, we all do.

And we miss you.

Please be back soon, Ares.

In love, Aphrodite.

Ares grinned and tucked the letter into his magical bag.

“So Daddy's Owl misses me too, huh?”

---

1) Maimakterion: the Attic month from November to December. I allowed myself a small anachronism here, because the Attic calendar was likely invented just a bit later than where my story currently is. The Attic calendar is a lunisolar calendar and was used in Athens. The month Maimakterion is named after an epithet of Zeus. 2) Tapu: "Consecrated/Forbidden/Prohibited/Cursed" (also "tabu" or "kapu", the spelling and precise meaning depend on the region), the traditional prohibitions of the Polynesian peoples. The origin of the word "taboo". 3) The only known exception is the Rongorongo glyph system from the Easter Island, which hasn't been deciphered yet. 4) Those are genuine epithets of Odin. 5) Poseideon: the Attic month from December to January. I think you can guess who this one is named after.

Bonus: I sincerely apologise for my treatment of Australia. I had to write this from the POV of an entitled Greek god who is used to ... well, Greek culture. And the ancient Greeks were rather snobbish towards the rest of the world.

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serahsanguine · 4 years

Text

The Act of Rebellion

Rating; NC-!7

Prompt; Makeup Sex after a big fight

For the #Smut_2020 (Smut Exchange) A03

@skullsmuldon @today-in-fic @xfilesfanficexchange @baronessblixen

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

The Act of Rebellion

Some Months Ago

She doesn't know why she did it or what possessed her to even consider the idea, or even how she ended up in that place.

But she had done it, it was so out of character but so very her at the same time. She has to admit they were painful and so sore they made her feel sexy and more of a woman.

She had heard her friends talk about it in med school, she had even seen it in her profession but never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she was going to get it done.

On her part, it was an act of rebellion and defiance. A lot like her tattoo in that respect. He hadn't paid attention to her in weeks, even months; not since that Diana bitch face turned up. She had hoped one day he'd be able to see them. He gave her hope about their relationship when he'd gone to Antarctica for her but that soon shattered when they got back and he acted as if nothing happened as if they never nearly kissed and they were back to square one.

Present Day

Things were getting a little tense in the office; they had been snapping at each other over the smallest of things. Arguing more than ever, they were at an all-time low in their working partnership as well as their friendship. Today was going to be the day it all boiled over.

“Mulder will you please keep your sunflower seed shells on your side of the room!” she was angry, she was frustrated and hell if she was going to deal with this today.

“Why Scully, I thought you liked them,” he replied smugly.

“You know full well I hate them, they get everywhere and it doesn't help that you’re such a slob.” Why today of all days was he testing her patience? She didn’t need this, she didn't need him.

“My oh my someone got on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he said mockingly and with a smile. He was asking for it now and they both knew it but she chose to ignore him

“Sure, fine, whatever” she stood up, placing the files back in the cabinet. With her back turned she hadn’t noticed him walk towards her. “I won't be joining you on that case on the weekend, it's our weekend off and I have things to do” she stated.

“But I want you there,” he whispered in her ear, his body flush against her back and it was leaving chilling goosebumps on her skin as well as his.

She turned around and they were now face to face. She looked up at him seeing his dilated pupils and a drop of sweat running down his face and his neck onto his clavicle. His hair in the middle of his face, she reached up her hand and swept it away from his face with the back of her index finger slowly gliding down his face, their eyes locking. Her hand dropped and the atmosphere in the room turned from angry to hot and humid in 5 seconds flat. He leaned to kiss her, their lips barely touching, the anticipation coming from both of them brought into this very second. Their lips touched the saltiness of his sunflower seeds mixed with her taste of bee pollen yogurt. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her hands in his hair on his neck on his back they were everywhere she could reach.

But suddenly both their heads whipped to the office door as Diana walked in. Scully jumped down, gathered her things, and ran out of the office and the building fleeing as fast as she could.

Later that night

Scully is sitting in her living room, her room dark and dimly lit by one candle and the flicker of a movie playing in the background. Her mind was elsewhere, her brain thinking of the day's events playing over and over again. She was soon brought out of her thoughts when she heard a knock at the door she waited and listened hoping they would go away whoever it was. But they didn't, they kept knocking and knocking until finally, she heard a voice through the door.

“Scully it’s me.”

Scully walked up to the door, her hand hovering above the key to unlock and open it. Her face millimeters from the door when she thought better of it and placed it back at her side feeling her bare skin under the palm of her hand, for only she was in shorts and a tank top.

“Go away, I don’t want you here,” she said angrily.

“Scully let me explain,” he pleaded.

“No! You can’t use me and abuse me like some trashy women on one of your porn videos Mulder! Now go away!" She was shouting now and she didn't care who heard her.

He was shocked by what she thought of him, how could she not know his feelings for her? He hadn't realized how hurt she was and he didn’t exactly plan it the way it happened. If he was honest with himself he hadn’t expected it to ever happen. His head resting on the wood grain of her front door, the rough of the grain against the smooth of the varnish his breath was ragged.

“Scully please I can’t explain through a door”

“Well, you’re going to have to because I am not under any circumstance letting you in” she replied bitterly and angry.

“Fine,” he let out a sigh as he sat on the floor, his back against the door, his hands close to his face. “Dana… Scully, you mean so much to me you’re my lifeline my one in 5 billion. I can’t explain what happened in the office, or why it happened but damn Scully I don't know how to say this..”

Somewhere in between her anger and listening to him, she had fallen to her knees and silent tears were falling from her face. She listened for his next words.

“Please, I don’t want to say this through the door”

She did not move from her spot on the floor; she had to hear it; she needed to hear the words for herself.

“Diana means nothing to me, maybe once but not now not since you entered my life. Dana, I'm just going to come out and say it. I love you.”

Scully Stood up with a tear streaked face, unlocked and opened the door. She barely registered him saying something before his lips covered hers. He was hesitant at first as if he thought she was going to push him away. He didn’t realize that they had crossed the line back in the office. Standing there kissing each other they had crossed and broken every rule of professionalism and common sense they were ever going to have. There was no turning back now

After that moment's indecision, he becomes bolder, his lips pulling on hers to draw her further into the kiss, she did not need any urging. They walked back into the room and she looked at him. He makes no reply but slides closer, pressing the length of his erection against her. She tugged his shirt freeing it from his jeans, sliding her hands underneath and marveling at the sleek chiseled muscles that lie beneath, she grabbed the hem pulling it over his head. Scully stood up on her tiptoes holding tight to his shoulders feeling the feast on the blazing flesh of his neck beneath her palms. She darted her tongue out to taste him. He tastes like liquid fire with a hint of strawberries and cream, all conscious thoughts faded as the desire for him washes over her, hot and liquid, and scary every girl's dream.

She closed her eyes so she could savor him completely, drunk on the musky smell of

sweat from his collarbone and the tangy taste of his skin. She stretched up a little further to reach his earlobe; his breath became erratic; she pulled his lips back to hers and one hand ran up to his hair holding each other as their mouth devoured one another.

She grabbed the belt loops on his jeans and pulled him back against her, kissing the hard planes of his chest. she darted her tongue out to tease his nipple and he jerked, groaning deep in his chest, the vibrations of it tickling her lips. His fingers weaved into her hair and she tipped her head back so that he could kiss her again. she opened her mouth wanting more - more of him, more of his kisses, more of his taste. His tongue pushes into her mouth as if obliging her unspoken request. His tongue stroking against hers, luring her further inside. She never cared for the flavor of sunflower seeds, but on Mulder, they tasted sweet and addictive.

His skin rubbing against the thin cloth of her tank top. “Scully” he whispered and to her astonishment, her nipples tighten the second his flesh meets hers. Her shirt is so close-fitted she knows he can't have missed them and swallowed hard.

He stepped back looking at her chest or lack of it. And he did indeed notice some small metal things that were there, which certainly weren't there when he had rescued her from Antarctica. Not that he was looking.

“Scully what are..” he inhales a long breath and the next word to come out of his mouth was “wow”.

Her nipples hardened more than they had ever before. They were so much more sensitive since she had them done but she certainly didn't quite think she was getting the engagement she was getting now. The look of pure darkened desire in his eyes was all she needed to know she did the right thing.

His eyes raked over her chest and she's ready to tear her top off and beg but she wanted to taste him first. She looked at him with dark sultry eyes and pushed his chest towards the chair when she heard his feet hit the edge of it, she stills him and he waits. Her hands were shaking but she managed to undo the button on his jeans

Scull-leeee," he groans, his hands gripping her shoulders as she slides his pants and boxers down, pushing him back before they even reach his knees. He lands on the chair with a dazed expression on his face. The tv casts shadows and light across his face as she kneeled slowly in front of him, pushing his knees apart He was rigid and gratifyingly thick. Her fingers skate up his legs and he slouches a little, drawing closer to her. She scratched through the hair on his thighs with her fingers, moving her hand closer to where they desired it to be. Mulder never takes his eyes off her face, watching her with the astonished look he usually reserves for the paranormal. she licked her lips in anticipation of the act which came next.

She wrapped her fingers around the base of him, giving him a small squeeze before sliding up. His hips lifted off the small dining room chair, following the movement of her hands as she reached the head of cock. She leaned forward, taking just the tip of him into her mouth. He tasted sweet but salty like popcorn but still so delicious. Her tongue traces the slit on the head and Mulder gasps above her.

Her tongue swirls a few times around him, pulling him a little deeper with each pass. She hollowed her cheeks, letting him have some suction before she relaxed her throat to swallow him whole. Her gag reflex was impeccable, something all good Catholic girls should know . He bumped the back of her throat, her hand sliding to the crease of his balls. Her thumb tracing gentle circles on the papery silk skin there in time to the up and down motion of her mouth.

Mulder relaxes into the chair, his hands dropping off her shoulders, his long fingers lacing in her auburn hair moving out of her face so he can watch better. With each upstroke her tongue she savors the tip before swallowing him whole again. She can tell he is getting close and she can’t wait to taste him.

He pushes her away and whispers “All's fair in love and war” and with a wicked smile upon his face, she went to ask him what he meant but she didn't get a chance. He placed his arm gently on her arm before turning her around her hand now on the armrest of the chair.

"Oh God."

“Now, now Scully” he sniggered.

With her back to him. she felt the hot breath from his lips before they touched her. His tongue snakes out and traces the ridge of her left shoulder blade.

"After tonight Scully I'm going to know what you taste like everywhere," he whispered.

His hands run lightly across her shoulders down to her hips and back he repeated this action a few times before making a slight detour and he drew a circle on her

lower back perfectly where her tattoo was. her hands were shakily on the arms of her dining room chair.

“Why” he whispered into her.

Somehow she found her breath to speak. “An act of rebellion”

He slipped his hand around her midframe “Same with this” he slipped his hand under her top pinching her nipples hard.

“Yes,” she replied shakily.

His hand went back to the ouroboros on her back, tracing it over and over again.

“It’s a sign of a never-ending circle, but that all going to change” his voice is barely recognizable.

He stopped tracing her tattoo and his fingers grabbed the hem of her shorts. His hands were rough, pulling them down falling at her ankles taking her panties with them as well. Mulder's hands are on her hips and he shifted her, pulling her sweet little ass just a tiny bit higher.

She could feel the cool air against her damp flesh, he moved closer. The heat coming off his body in waves was the only sensation she needed. He presses closer, parting her legs further, he places the thick head of his cock at her throbbing entrance.

"Please." she whispered through dry cracked lips she tried to rock backward trying to get him inside her as quickly as possible. Feeling him there made the inner nerves tremble and twitch. "Please." she whispered again and tried to buck backward but he moved both of his large hands to her hips and held her still. He starts gently placing his tip inside her tight flesh. She groaned in frustration. He was throbbing inside her and he moved with one swift stab he plows through her center. her arms shaking she gripped harder onto the wooden frame.

He sensed her slipping and placed one arm around her waist to steady her; he began a steady rhythm of slow thrusts. While his movements were controlled his breath was far from it. Scully wondered how long it would be until he lost control inside her. His groin comes to rest against her ass and rocked back against him with every stroke in, locking her arms to keep herself upright.

Mulder picks up the pace, his hips grinding mercilessly against hers and her arms finally give up for good. As she sank down, her head resting against her forearm, he slid one hand around to cup her. He is not gentle, which is good, neither one needing delicate and gentle in this moment in time. A few small explosions radiate through her abdomen and down into her legs. Soon her legs gave out but Mulder followed her down relentless in his thrusts inside her.

"I never thought," he groans, releasing her clit to bring his arm up around her chest, buying himself a little more leverage.

"I never, God, Scully," He slowed his movement for a moment and planted a kiss on her shoulder, his humid breath increasing the moisture across her back. She clenches around him, feeling the wave of another orgasm fast approaching.

Scully was begging in her head for this not to be the end when he pulled her back flush against his chest and slightly whispered hoarsely into her ear. "Never."

With Mulder's knees underneath him and Scully on top of him. He places one hand on Scully's midframe and one hand on the table next to him to give him better leverage. He thrust up and she audibly moaned, He took a few short strokes inside her all the love, pleasure, and an indescribable feeling of well-being cascade through their consciousness. Mulder stiffened, groaned, and made a series of rapid-fire thrusts. She felt him swell inside her and then he topples over, Scully included.

With their feet both pressed to the hard floor his hips give a few more languid strokes. They melt into each other, embrace them both coming back to their senses after being overwhelmed by emotion, passion, and desire.

Somehow he moved her to the couch. She was as light as a feather but completely exhausted from the adventure. He grabbed the afghan on the back of it wrapping it around her form before sliding in next to her letting the flicker and the sound of the tv flutter them to sleep but before they did Scully had one last thing she needed to say to him before falling asleep herself.

“Mulder, I love you too,” she said softly before tucking her head under her chin wrapping her naked form over his and slipping into a deep slumber.

From this moment on Everything has changed and it's all thanks to An Act of Rebellion

The End!

#smut_2020 #Smut #The X-Files #the x files #Fox Mulder #Dana Scully

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