#and only after you push past that breach do you sit there going 'hm! not sure if I like the person that made me!' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kevyfanfics · 3 years

Text

Touch Deprivation: When in Doubt, Hug it Out

Trying this out!! Seen a lot of “tumblr fics” out there so I thought I’d see how if goes :) This is part of my “Irondad Ending in Platonic Cuddles” one shot series!

---

Peter sits on the edge of the sixteen story building, feet dangling towards the street below as cars inch their way through the lunchtime traffic. Golden beams of the midday sun reflect in his lenses, but he doesn’t feel their warmth. It’s not the same. He sighs and a cloud of steam floats through the crisp, winter air.

“May has texted you that she won’t be able to make it home tonight for dinner,” Karen softly relays the message. “Her shift has been extended.” Peter closes his eyes and focuses on the chilled breeze.

“I know.” For once, his voice is ladened with defeat and acceptance. This has been the usual for the past few months. May has to work extra shifts to keep up with the ever-increasing bills, he has school and Spider-Man, mix those two together and they’ve seen each other for a total of four hours in the past week. He’s been counting. He knows keeping track isn't a good sign, but what else is there to do?

“Peter?” Karen’s voice reaches him through the deep thoughts. Peter opens his eyes and hums a response.

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” He considers the question. Ned and MJ have been asking him that a lot lately, but he hasn’t quite found a good way to answer it. He just…doesn’t know how he feels. He’s not sure he does feel. He just kind of exists.

“I miss…people,” he settles on. It doesn’t feel right, but it doesn’t feel wrong, either. Feelings are difficult and he doesn’t have the energy to decipher them. Instead, he pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. The pressure against his chest feels nice. Comforting, even.

“You saw MJ and Ned today,” Karen gently reminds, trying to coax more out of him without pushing it. Peter takes in another deep breath before shrugging.

“I miss May,” he finds he’s able to clarify. He loves his friends, but coming home to an empty house for two months straight is different. If it weren’t for patrols and workshop days, he’d go stir crazy over the break.

“You had dinner with her last night,” Karen attempts, her voice sweeter than usual. “That was nice.” Peter continues to stare at the pedestrians as they cross the street in hordes.

“The only reason we ate together was because we both got home at 2am and had leftover Chinese takeout,” he counters without much thought. Even to his own ears his voice is monotonous. He feels like he lost a part of himself, but it makes him feel selfish. May’s working hard to make sure they can get by and he’s a bit lonely.

Either way, last night was a rough patrol and he ended up unceremoniously climbing through the window at 2:13am all battered and bruised. That’s all he’s gotten recently. Nothing but punches to the face, kicks to the stomach, bruises to the ribs, blood coating his hands. Nothing but violence. He hasn’t had a single, positive touch in two months. No hugs, no loving hand rubbing his back, no lingering touch in his hair, no gentle thumb smoothing over his palm. Nothing but violence violence viole-

“Peter, your alarm is going off.” Karen’s voice pulls him back once more, and it takes him a moment to process what she just said.

“Hm?” He blinks sluggishly, then unfurls his warm legs from his chest, already missing the pressure.

“It’s time to head to the workshop,” Karen patiently provides, an absolute saint as usual. Oh, Peter thinks, it’s already four. It doesn’t feel like 4pm, but he can’t exactly argue with time and space. Rolling out his stiff, aching shoulders, he lazily flings out a web and starts swinging to the Tower. He just goes through the motions: thwip, double tap to release, thwip, double tap to release.

And, in what feels like the blink of any eye, he’s there. His muscles are taut and trembling from the frigid air, but when he slips inside one of the countless windows, the warmth from the Tower at least helps minutely. As soon as he’s clear, he pulls off the mask and breathes in fresh, spandex-free air. His teeth chatter and he warms his arms up with his hands, but besides that he’s no worse for wear.

“Hey, Fri? Where’s Mr. stark?” he asks through chattering teeth hidden behind blue-tinted lips.

“He's down in the shop. I’ve alerted him to your arrival,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. promptly replies and he nods a quick thanks. First, he goes to his room to change into normal clothes, then catches a ride down the elevator. His lips are more of a peach color again, but his teeth still clack against each other as his body tries to generate some warmth. Stupid spiders with their no thermoregulation. The elevator comes to a halt and he walks into the music-ridden, always-bustling workshop.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” he shouts over both the welder and the guitar solo. Tony’s head pops up and the music lowers at the wave of his hand.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, lifting his goggles with a smile. “How’s your bumps and bruises.” Peter shrugs, hardly remembering the superficial injuries from last night’s fight, before sitting on the nearby stool.

“Don’t really feel them anymore,” he answers honestly as he rubs his hands together. Feeling is hard these days. Tony raises a curious eyebrow, then sets down his tools and saunters over to the teen.

“And is that because of the super spidey healing or the ice cubes you call fingers?” he inquires casually. Peter glances up and tries to put on his best I’m-really-not-in-the-mood-for-this face. Nonetheless, Tony chuckles at the expression. “Alright, alright, just get warm at least.”

“I’m trying.” Peter looks back down as he responds, but then an unexpected touch has him freezing in place, muscles tense.

“Jeez, bud, you’re frozen,” Tony mutters aloud as he rubs Peter’s hands in his own to provide more warmth. It takes more than a few seconds for Peter to register what's happening. But when he does, he slowly looks up at Tony as the man continues to warm the cold hands in his own. For some reason, it makes Peter want to cry. The hands are gentle, carefully moving back and forth and all he can focus on is that it doesn’t hurt. After months of nothing but agony and breaks and blood, there’s finally something full of love and support.

He closes his eyes and his eyebrows pull together…and he starts to cry. He doesn’t mean to, but the tears slip out in a mix of relief and pent-up devastation. His toes curl under in an attempt to regain control, but it’s already too late.

“Peter? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Tony suddenly questions when he sees the tears and Peter’s distraught expression. All Peter can manage is the shake of his head, causing tears to fall from his chin and onto his jeans. He should’ve been more prepared, but he wasn’t expecting the concerned tone or the protective hands encasing his. He didn’t realize he was touch deprived until Tony held his hands, the first positive touch he’s had in two months. Two months. “I need you to talk to me so I can help,” Tony tries to get through to him, kneeling at his level.

“I- I don’t-“ is as far as Peter gets before a sob cuts him off. He wants to curl up in a ball and never face the outside world again. It’s like his armor has cracked and the cruel reality of just how brutal and heartless the world can be is flooding in. It’s breached completely when one of Tony’s hands leaves his and cups his cheek.

He doesn’t hold back the sobs after that.

He simply cries, leaning into the soft touch and grabbing his mentor’s wrist like a lifeline. The thought of losing the contact now is unbearable. He can’t. He just can’t. At the action, Tony seems to catch on. This time, he pulls Peter into his chest and holds the kid tightly in his arms.

“You’re okay,” he assures into Peter’s curls, “I got you.” Peter feels them begin to rock and a hand rubs its way up and down his back in a comforting, predictable motion. He pulls in shuddering, uneven breaths, but his body isn’t ready to calm down. Instead, he grips Tony’s sleeves and buries his head in his chest so that his sobs are muffled by fabric. All the built up emotions force their way out, but being hugged is all he needs. Warm, strong arms keeping him safe. His cries rip Tony apart at the seams and he wonders how he could’ve missed this. It’s a basic human need to have positive, physical affirmation, something Peter evidently hasn’t had for a while.

The hug eases the aching in Peter’s chest and he holds on tighter. He can’t lose this feeling again. After all these weeks of apathy and going through the motions, he’s finally able to feel everything.

“I can't- there’s no-“ Tony gently hushes him, afraid that the teen will work himself into a panic attack if this keeps up. Honestly, it’s the last thing on Peter’s mind. He just knows he doesn’t want to be let go.

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Tony patiently encourages. Peter can feel him shift and he registers that they somehow made it to the floor while he was focused on gripping the fabric closer. Breathing, Peter recalls, breathing is important. Gotta breathe. Just have to- He takes a deep, shaking breath, but the exhale becomes a sob and he just can’t pull himself together and he hates it and he just wants to be in control again- “I’m so proud of you.” He starts at the quiet, genuine admission. “I’m unbelievably proud of you,” Tony continues. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time. Sometimes strength is asking for help when it’s tough.” Peter’s chin wobbles and fresh tears glide down his cheeks. He nods into Tony’s shoulder, and pulls his legs to his chest for extra comfort.

“It’s, it’s been tough for a while,” he divulges in a hoarse whisper.

“I know, kid,” Tony acknowledges, lightly combing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“I didn’t,” the teen confesses in a whisper. He really hadn’t seen any of this coming. “I thought I was okay. I, I thought I was fine just doing what I,” he swallows, “what I was doing. I didn’t think it affected me this much. It was just…I didn’t feel anything.” Apathy was probably a more apt description, but it was true. He hadn’t felt any intense emotion in such a long period of time that Tony’s loving, concerned action sent him into overdrive. Tony lets out a deep breath and rests his chin atop Peter’s head, tucking the kid into him to provide as much comfort as possible.

“From a scientific standpoint, lack of human contact decreases cortisol levels and NK cells,” Tony points out. It might seem like a cold and calculating response, but he knows what he’s doing; he’s putting it into perspective for Peter. He’s showing the kid that it isn’t just all in his head. It’s a physical change to a lack of touch. Peter let’s out a breathless chuckle, his wound up muscles starting to relax into the hug.

“A, uh, a hug needs to last at least twenty seconds for dopamine and serotonin to be released. Happy brain chemicals,” he adds with a sniff, closing his eyes. He just needs a moment to take it all in. It’s rare for Tony to be the one to illicit physical contact, so he accepts it while can.

“Well then,” Tony softly starts, “guess we gotta wait til you have enough happy brain chemicals.” He situates them more comfortably on the floor, then tightens his hold. Another trembling breath escapes Peter, emotions still raw and superficial, but manageable. It's a start, and if that start just so happens to be in Tony’s arms, maybe it’s not such a bad one.

#peter parker #peter parker angst #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #fanfiction #fanfic #MCU #Avengers #writing #Iron Man #spider-man

123 notes · View notes

delimeful · 4 years

Text

(don’t) take this the wrong way (3)

sequel to underwater & blood | ao3 link

warnings: blood mention, hypnosis/mind-altering mention, fear, miscommunication, bad assumptions made while stressed

Virgil hurriedly propelled himself through the wide tunnels of the underwater cave system, all of his nerves screaming. Every time he turned a corner, he expected the two giant mers to be on the other side, sharp teeth and cage-like hands at the ready.

It didn’t help matters that he was already weighed down by an entire human dragging along behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Logan was clutching at his spectacles with one hand and desperately hanging onto Virgil’s wrist with the other. Good thing humans didn't have claws, or Virgil would be spilling even more blood all over the place than he already was.

A fresh current brushed past him, and he took the next turn sharply, just barely not grazing the rough tunnel walls. There! He could see an exit, the bright blue of the open ocean just beyond it.

Halfway there, Logan’s grip on his hand turned painful, the bones in his wrist creaking under the pressure.

“What?” he snapped, despite knowing that the human couldn’t understand his irritable clicks.

When he turned, however, the problem was obvious: the human was out of air, bubbles leaking from his nose and mouth.

Virgil bit his lip and wasted a moment looking between Logan’s purpling face and his gateway to freedom. His instincts knew what the smart thing to do was, but he couldn’t stop remembering the way the human had given him space, spoke politely, kept him calm in the face of overwhelming terror.

“Oh, fine, fine!” he finally groaned, swearing profusely as he found the nearest upward crevice and dragged the both of them into it.

The moment they breached the surface, Logan was spluttering and gasping, halfway to choking on his own spit. Virgil shoved him up onto the nearest ledge and hurriedly pulled himself up after, the phantom feeling of giant hands grasping at him enough to make him want to vacate the water entirely.

Unfortunately, he’d massively overestimated the size of the rock shelf, and ended up flopped over the wheezing human from head to fin.

Whoops.

---

“Wh-- What--?” Logan attempted to dislodge the mermaid sprawled on top of him, and then stilled as Virgil hissed at him from close range, those rows of teeth only inches from his neck.

It was just one thing after another, today. He tried to steady his breathing, and after a moment, regained his composure. “Seeing as this is a limited space and sharks are quite sensitive to blood, I would advise against trying to consume me at this juncture.”

Virgil pushed himself up further, enough that their faces weren’t inches apart, and now Logan could properly see his disgusted expression. “What? Ew, gross, no. If I cared that little about your life, I would have just let you drown back there.”

“Oh.” Logan coughed awkwardly, his cheeks a bit hot. “In that case, why tackle and pin me?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to keep out of the water so we don’t get noticed, numbskull. Do you see any more room on this little ledge?”

It was true; there wasn’t much space in the fissure. At least some light made it down from above, illuminating their current position. Logan frowned thoughtfully.

“Hm, if you’ll allow me to adjust…”

With a significant bit of shifting around and a few more hisses from Virgil about ‘manhandling’, Logan managed to get upright, with his legs crossed in the lotus position. Virgil was sitting up as well, though half of his tail had to curl over Logan’s lap.

“Much better,” Logan said, satisfied. Virgil still looked a bit green around the gills from watching Logan bend his knees. “I suppose this is as opportune a time as any to thank you for saving my life.”

Logan had kind of hoped the mermaid would be too nauseous to pay attention, but to no avail. Virgil’s ear fins twitched strangely, and he lifted his head to look at Logan with something like surprise.

Seemed as though he had to elaborate. Ugh, feelings. “From my observations, you could have left me and made your escape much faster. It would have been pragmatic of you, but I appreciate that you didn’t. Unfortunately, now we’re both trapped here, with no idea when or if those giants lurk nearby. So you have my thanks and my apologies.”

Virgil made a strange trill-click, his expression amused. “Don’t apologize for me saving your life, dumbass. You had no say in the matter. Anyways, at least when I die, it’ll be in the company of a ballsy human.”

“If you die,” Logan corrected the cognitive distortion automatically. “Remember, there’s still options available that could lead us to freedom. Though… I’m unsure how far out in the ocean the siren carried me. It’s entirely possible that I will run out of stamina and drown before I reach land.”

“Listen, if we get out of this alive, I’ll tow you to a beach myself,” Virgil replied with a snort. “Sorry man, but once they find their snacks have vanished, they’re going to be out for blood.”

“You seem to have quite a negative outlook on our chances.” Logan watched as the purple caudal fin flicked back and forth absently. “Are they truly that devoted to devouring us?”

“I mean... I dunno how much, I’m not a mind reader. I just try not to make a habit of pissing off anything big enough to eat me in one bite,” Virgil snarked back. “It’s how I’m still alive. If there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that there’s no way they would just let us go.”

---

Patton and Roman stared at the cave shelf in stunned silence.

Where before there had been a human and a tiny mer, there was now only a splotchy puddle of blood and the remnants of a fishing net scattered about.

“Oh dear,” Patton said, looking down at the kelp bandages he’d retrieved.

Roman dropped his sword and ran his hands through his hair, shocked. “Why in the sea did they vanish like that? What about sharks? What about the human?!”

“Oh dear,” Patton said again, remembering how far out they were from the little guy’s home. “Why would they leave? I didn’t think the human could swim far enough or long enough to get out of this cave system!”

Roman frowned, squinting at a sharp tooth he’d found among the shredded net. “... Maybe he couldn’t. The little mer— he couldn’t hurt us, obviously, but— the human is so small, and he growled at him, remember? What if—?”

The shark mer was looking more horrified by the minute, and Patton set a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Ro. How about I try and call for the human? If he hears it, I’ll know.”

Roman nodded quickly, and Patton took a deep breath before letting the magic coiled inside him rise up, lace itself through his voice in the ringing tones that the human had best responded to back on the beach.

In the distance, there was a jerk of surprise-recognition-fear as his song reached the ears of the human, and Patton grimaced at the feeling that curled along the siren bond. He tried to soothe the terror, coaxing the human back towards the water with promises that he wouldn’t be hurt, that they were just there to help and get him home.

After a few moments, the human succumbed to his magic, letting go of his resistance with something like resignation. Patton bit his lip briefly but didn't stop, waiting for the moment he would hit the water and reveal his whereabouts to Patton.

It never came.

Patton blinked, surprised, but the human continued to stay in place, despite struggling to reach the song’s source. Was he being… restrained?

He broke the song off after another few moments with no movement, quickly reassuring Roman that the human was still alive, and not hurt.

“I think he’s being held in place though,” he added, and Roman’s expression darkened. “I can get close, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to pinpoint the exact place. In tunnels like these, it could be anywhere.”

“The small mer was bleeding, remember?” Roman replied, tail swishing in agitation. “If I can catch the scent, I can get us the rest of the way there. Let’s go.”

#sanders sides #g/t #mermay 2020 #mermaid #giant mermaid #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #dtttww #dont take this the wrong way #mermay #writing #my writing #sorry its short writing has been... very difficult lately for some reason #thanks again to those who are being patient with me esp re: commissions #im doing my best #anyways every character in this fic is a dumbass

409 notes · View notes

hirvitank · 3 years

Text

@prosynica

i cannot believe you convinced me to do this...

CREOSOTE CHAPTER 69

read below the cut, but be warned

She checks herself in the mirror, fusses over her hair, tilts her head as she scrutinises her features. She’s nervous, feels her hands tremble, her cheeks flushed a subtle pink. There’s nothing to worry about, she reminds herself, sucks in a steadying breath. Her reflection stares back at her, deceptive enough in her confidence to nearly fool herself—sadly, there’s no denying the nervous race of her pulse. A knock, and she starts at the sound, head whipping around to stare at her door. She smooths down her dress, feels her body through its fabric, skin burning with anticipation—tonight’s the night, she promises herself: she’ll finally make her move.

She opens her door, ready to greet her guest, then falls silent at the sight of him. There’s a cactus in Gaara’s hands, consisting of three stalks. Or, more precisely, two small stems and a larger one, creating a rather... interesting shape.

He’s the first to speak: “I found this by the side of the road, and well,” he pauses at her expression, eyes darting between the cactus and her, “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Oh!” Could this be a hint? Perhaps a warning of some sort? What if, unlike normal men, he has a… “I- no- of course not!” She shakes those thoughts from her mind, feels her cheeks burn.

“Are you sure?” He tips his head, narrows his eyes. “You don’t sound like you mean it.”

“No! It’s just…” she falters, takes another look at the uniquely shaped cactus.

“Just…?”

She clears her throat, feels her blush deepen, then—in a single breath—says: “It looks like a penis.”

“A penis?” He raises the cactus, inspects it closer as he turns it in his hands.

She blanches, reminded of Ino’s words, wonders if maybe he’s never seen one before, which would imply-

“I suppose so,” he concludes, lowering the object, offering: “I can throw it out if it puts you off.”

“No, it’s fine,” she quickly assures, meanwhile trying to usher him in before anyone has a chance to spot the Kazekage carrying a phallic cactus around. He doesn’t protest as she drags him inside, closing the door as soon as she can, only then discovering just how narrow her hallway is. She can feel his breath down the nape of her neck, swears she senses the heat radiating off his body, his arms awkwardly trying to keep the cactus from hurting her.

“Um…” he starts, clearing his throat, the word brushing against her skin, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

“Oh, right,” she nervously laughs, shuffling past him without touching any needles, “sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, following after her. “I’ll just...” He places the cactus on her counter, stares at it strangely for several seconds, a frown tugging at his brow.

“A drink?” she offers, notices the high pitch of her voice and tries clearing her throat.

“Water is fine.”

She nods, offers a nervous smile as she sidesteps him, feeling her heart stutter at the proximity. Tonight’s the night, she tells herself again, biting her cheek as she fills two glasses. But how is she supposed to breach the subject? ‘Hey, Gaara, I know we’ve been dating for several months now, and I’d really like it if we could, you know, do the... the good ‘ole horizontal—or vertical, if that’s your preference.’ No, no way! He’s never going to- it’s too weird, asking it like that. What if he laughs? God, she’s such a-

“Sakura.” She starts as his hand wraps around hers. “I think it’s full.”

“Wha-“ She blinks, shakes her head, notices the glasses are overrun with water. “Right, of course.” She doesn’t move, however, too caught up by his touch, long fingers gently wrapped around her palm. He seems to notice, instead turns off the tab himself.

“Is it the cactus?” he asks, sends her a quizzical look, hand releasing hers. “You seem nervous.”

He’s too close, too warm, too overwhelming for her to process all he’s saying. “The cactus?” she asks, once again feeling her face heat. “No, really, I’m just glad you’re here. In my apartment.” She bites her lip, hands him one of the glasses. “Just you... and me. Alone.”

He takes it, albeit hesitantly, watches her with large eyes. “Yes,” he says, almost like a question.

“Let’s take a seat, hm?” she quickly offers, circles him, nearly jumps onto her couch. The water almost spills from her glass, sloshing dangerously as she sits, a broad smile plastered on her lips. He follows, though in less of a hurry, awkwardly holds his over-filled drink. When he sits down, she carefully scoots a little closer, tries not to move too obviously. It doesn’t escape his attention, however, his eyes darting to where their thighs now touch.

“Actually,” Sakura starts, moving even closer, “about that- ouch!” She flinches away from him, notices too late how her water spills across his lap, leaving a dark stain in his pants. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened!”

He frowns, appears deep in thought, then suddenly perks up. “No, that’s my fault,” he quickly apologises, reaching into his jacket and retrieving... another cactus? “I forgot this was in here.” Its needles are surprisingly long and sharp, making it hard to believe he wouldn’t feel them. He appears to pick up on her thoughts, clarifying: “My defence gets in the way.”

“Right...” she mumbles, then remembers she’s ruined his outfit just now. “Sorry about your pants, I could see if I have-“ she cuts herself off, thinks she could actually use this situation to her advantage, then offers: “Do you want me to help take them off?” Yes, perfect! Now she just has to connect with her inner seductress and get this show on the road, or the bed, preferably.

“Is this standard relationship practice?” He puts his drink away, brow puckered into a pensive frown.

“Yes,” she says, standing from her place. “But only if you like it.” She’s in front of him, feels her heart high in her chest, the bared skin of her arms and legs covered in goosebumps—there’s a nervous thrill running through her limbs, inciting a wave of shivers.

“Okay,” he accepts, watches her with curious eyes. She bites her lip, nods, slowly lowers herself to her knees, resting her hands atop his legs. His gaze follows her all the way, something unfamiliar stirring in its depths, tempting her to take things further—see how far she can go. Releasing a soft breath, she slides her hands further up his legs, takes in the way his eyes follow the movement. She leans forward, presses her chest against his knees as she starts on his buttons, revealing the band of his underwear—she’s almost disappointed he isn’t naked underneath.

There’s an audible hitch in his breathing, and she relishes the small victory, slowly peeling his pants off, hinting for him to raise his hips by briefly tugging upwards. He complies, making it easier for the wet fabric to slip down, exposing the smooth skin of his legs. She frees his feet last, pulls the fabric across one limb at a time, until he’s left in only his jacket and underwear. She takes in his shapely legs, appreciates their slender build before allowing her gaze to travel up; past knees, thighs and then-

“Don’t tell me there’s more cacti?” she blurts, pausing at the noticeable bulge.

“In my underwear?” he asks, sounding as surprised as she. “I don’t think so...”

“You don’t think- how-“ she cuts herself off, feels her heart hammer in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she rushes, “I’m not offending you am I? It’s just, you...” She’s searching for words, hasn’t the slightest idea how to put this—as far as she can tell he’s packing a whole lot more than she’d anticipated.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, much to her relief, looks as inviting as ever as he smiles. She returns the expression, braves her nerves as she returns her hands to his legs, carefully pushing herself up. His skin is hot beneath her palms, his gaze dark as it follows her, briefly shooting to her lips. She feels her blood rush through, pulse violent as it throbs with hunger.

“I could take these off, too?” she offers, hovering above him, gaze indicating his underwear.

He wets his lips, takes a deep breath, then nods for her to continue. She grins, bites her lip excitedly as she hooks her thumbs behind the band. Carefully, she tugs, feels the fabric start to slip, revealing his hipbones, then further down...

“Holy shit Gaara!” she gasps, eyes wide as his obviously well-endowed member springs forth from its confinement, revealing below an unusually generous pair of family jewels.

“I know, I’m incredibly fertile.”

She blinks, taken aback by the reveal of such a monster cock and brazen set of balls. “What’s in there?” she finds herself asking without thought, fingers itching to touch the admirable assets —wonders if he’s ever even busted a nut.

“Gold, apparently.”

She snorts, meeting his gaze. “You’re kidding?”

He shakes his head, dead serious.

“You have golden jizz?”

He raises a brow, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for anyone to be shooting actual jewels from their jewels. “Of course.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy, and as a medic I’m concerned.” She pauses, feels her lips pull into a grin. “But as a girlfriend I’m impressed.”

He smirks, pulls her into his lap, his bulging penis violently slapping against her bared thigh, then growls into her ear: “From now on I’ll be Gaara of the Golden Shower.”

You can imagine for yourself what happened next. I’m off crying.

#gaasaku #creosote #so apparently the myths about tanuki balls stems from long ago when they would use tanuki scrotums to store away gold #the more you know #i am officially done with this joke now i have taken it too far #now back to normal writing...#purchase some eyebleach while im at it

44 notes · View notes

xiaomomowrites · 4 years

Text

marcid

Haikyuu | Sakuatsu

marcid (adj) incredibly exhausted, withered

Summary: It’s interesting how far they’ve come, Kiyoomi assesses. Touching used to make Kiyoomi feel like a wall had been breached, and the slightest amount of contact would make the alarm bells in his head ring until his ears bled. Now, it brings him comfort. Now, every touch (only) from Atsumu brings him back down to Earth when it felt like he had wandered in his head for too long. It brings warmth back to his fingertips and makes his entire body blush.

I really wanna post this on ao3 but,,,,I have no idea how it works :o but it will be up!! I’ll update this once it’s settled hehe~

But you can find it here!

A/N: I missed writing SO MUCH. I took a long time off to focus on a lot of other things like school and my career choices, and once I got that more or less figured out, I took even more time rediscovering my writing voice. As you know, I’ve fallen deep into the Haikyuu fandom and now, I am nothing but a mere sakuatsu bot. Seriously I can feel them rotting my brain. It’s all I think about. This is a cry for help

This is also WAY fluffier content than I usually write, and when I wrote this, it was my first time characterizing either of them so please bear with me if you disagree with any of it. Feel free to let me know what you think! But of course any kind of abrasive negativity will be blocked ;) no one needs that energy haha. That being said, I honestly really liked writing this and I hope you enjoy a little too~ -u.n.

“Omi-omi,” Atsumu drawls, flopping onto his bed donned in fresh clothes after a long-awaited shower. The game against the Adlers had been a long and incredibly grueling battle, but thankfully it wasn’t for naught. It was by the grace of God alone, and maybe Bokuto’s final blow, that they managed to pull themselves to victory. Regardless, Atsumu’s shoulders and neck throbbed from the countless sets he had performed today, and even the slightest movement had him groaning in discomfort to his roommate.

“What,” Kiyoomi responds flatly.

“Shoulders hurt,” he pouts up to the ceiling, “I could use one of yer killer massages.” The blond cranes his neck to look back at his spiker, sending one of his signature give-me-what-I-want grins his way. He sticks his tongue out for good measure. Kiyoomi only narrows his eyes at him for interrupting his reading.

“I’m tired, too, Miya.” Kiyoomi turned his attention back to the book in his lap and desperately tried to find the words he dropped off before Atsumu started talking again.

“Pleaseee Omi-kun,” Atsumu drags out the rancid nickname even longer this time in a futile attempt to make it sound cute. The raven does not budge, and Atsumu simply pouts with even more vigor. He huffs, being one of the only few people who explicitly know of Kiyoomi’s stubbornness. But alas, Atsumu was just as stubborn. It’s what made them such a great couple. Kinda.

Atsumu hauls himself up from the plush comforters the hotel so kindly provides and pads over- not forgetting to slide his feet into his slippers first- to Kiyoomi’s bed before starfishing in the same manner he had done before. Except this time, his head lands directly in Kiyoomi’s lap so the spiker has no choice but to look down at him. Bingo. He looks at him with hazy eyes laced with exhaustion. But then Kiyoomi looks down at him with the same expression, and Atsumu begins to reconsider bothering him in the first place.

Much to Atsumu’s surprise, Kiyoomi closes his book quietly and places it on the bedside table. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to Atsumu’s forehead before nudging him to sit. “Up,” is all he says.

Atsumu complies, shocked. “Wait, really?”

Kiyoomi does not look amused. “You’ve been pestering me for the past fifteen minutes, are you just now deciding to back down?”

“No, please, I feel like my arms are gonna fall off,” he rushes to explain, “I just, y’know. Ya look tired, didn’t expect ya to agree.”

Kiyoomi sighs. “I can spare five minutes. Now turn around before I change my mind.” Atsumu obeys.

The raven brings his hands up to his shoulders, gliding up and squeezing lightly before resting at the junction between his neck and shoulder. It’s interesting how far they’ve come, Kiyoomi assesses. Touching used to be his trigger, the one of many things that would make his skin crawl and break out into hives, and suddenly make it feel like the walls were closing in at an alarming speed. Touching used to make Kiyoomi feel like a wall had been breached, and the slightest amount of contact would make the alarm bells in his head ring until his ears bled.

Now, it brings him comfort. Now, every touch (only) from Atsumu brings him back down to Earth when it felt like he had wandered in his head for too long. It brings warmth back to his fingertips and makes his entire body blush. The slightest touch of skin to skin will make his heart pound a little faster in a way that Kiyoomi never thought would be good, and it never fails to remind him of the times they would spend together when not a single inch of skin wasn’t in contact with the other. During those times, Kiyoomi remembers vividly, it was hard to tell when one stopped and the other began. He didn't mind it one bit.

That being said, Kiyoomi digs his thumbs into the muscle and listens carefully to how his setter reacts. As he expected, Atsumu groans loudly and flinches slightly at the first squeeze, but relaxes almost instantly when he remembers this is supposed to feel good. Kiyoomi releases his grip, moves his hands down further, and squeezes again. Rinse and repeat.

In a matter of seconds, Atsumu is putty in his hands. His head rolls back to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder and shivers when Kiyoomi bows at the neck to nuzzle his face into his throat. He noses up behind the hook of Atsumu’s jaw and presses a feather-light kiss there. He squeezes again, then releases. His hands move on their own down to his deltoids and squeezes this time with the entirety of his palm instead of just his fingers.

Atsumu lets out a noise that could easily be mistaken for a moan. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and ignores the sudden curl of heat in his abdomen, but it seems as though the blond had already picked up on the change in atmosphere.

“Kiyoomi,” he calls out, voice raspy.

“Hm?” he responds lazily, still nosing at his neck.

“I love you.”

Kiyoomi stills.

Six months into their relationship and Atsumu had beaten him to it first. Just as he did with confessing, just as he did with taking them on a first date, and just as he did initiating skinship first. Kiyoomi tuts, tired of losing.

“Don’t just say things like that, idiot.” Kiyoomi does his best to scowl and appear angry, but the bright red that had spread across his face and down to his neck said otherwise. He releases Atsumu from his grip and lets them fall to his side, watching as the blond hauls himself up and turns around. Kiyoomi frowns. “Go back to your bed, heathen.”

Atsumu grins, teasing. “Aw, ya don’t love me back, Omi-omi? Yer words hurt, they really do. How could ya leave a man like this, huh? After I bare my heart to ya-”

“I love you, too.” Kiyoomi wills himself to say. This time, it’s Atsumu’s turn to freeze up. Serves him right for being such a smug bastard.

“Wait, really?”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

“Omi-kun!” Atsumu suddenly yells, making Kiyoomi scowl further, “Ya love me too!”

His boyfriend definitely looks unimpressed. “Yes. Lower your voice.”

“This is a big deal!” he hollers.

“Did you really not expect me to feel the same way?” Kiyoomi raises one eyebrow, suddenly doubtful of himself.

“Well,” Atsumu quickly looks abashed, “I just didn’t think ya would say it outright like that, y’know? Figured ya would say somethin’ more like ‘shut up, asshole’ and it would be up to me to translate that to an ‘I love ya, too, ‘Tsumu’.”

“I will, if that’s what you want.” he teases.

“No! I like it when ya say it outright. It suits ya.” Atsumu grins, falling forward a bit and feeling proud that Kiyoomi doesn’t lean back or flinch.

“It suits me to say that I love you directly?” Kiyoomi deadpans. Atsumu blushes a bright red at the words again.

“Yeah, it’s… nice ta hear.”

Silence falls over the duo and suddenly, Atsumu doesn’t really know what to do with his hands. He settles on shuffling with his fingers, picking at his nails and pushing at his cuticles. A nervous tick that Kiyoomi had picked up on during their time together. It’s Kiyoomi who breaks the silence first with a snort.

“Charming,” he starts, and covers Atsumu’s hands with his own. “But I’ll be sure to say it more often, then.”

“Omiii,” he whines, clearly red and embarrassed at the sudden display of affection, “ya can’t keep being this nice, yer gonna make me love you even more and that’s unfair.”

“I can stop.” There he goes again with his deadpanning. Atsumu opens his mouth most likely to complain or whine once again, but Kiyoomi decides that they’ve done enough talking. He leans in slightly and uses the hold he has on his boyfriend’s hands to pull him the rest of the way and have their lips meet in the middle. Kiyoomi smiles into the kiss. He loves him endlessly.

Atsumu lurches into the kiss so much so that Kiyoomi has to catch him as he falls backwards, getting straddled by six feet and eighty kilograms of pure enthusiasm. Kiyoomi breaks the kiss, laughing lightly. “Oh my god, calm down.”

“Can’t,” he rushes to kiss him again, “M’too excited now.”

He closes the distance between them once again with the same level of enthusiasm as Hinata and Bokuto talking about volleyball. Any lesser man would have crumpled with the amount of force he used, but this was Kiyoomi he was with. This was the only other man in the world other than Miya Osamu himself that could contain Atsumu. He kisses back with the same level of ferocity and grips firmly at the meat on Atsumu’s hip, tugging him forward and impossibly closer. The blond lets out a desperate kind of noise before rocking his hips forward, wringing out a noise from Kiyoomi not even he was sure he could make. The raven broke the kiss in favor of oxygen, but the blond was relentless. He dipped down and trailed his lips down his neck, across his Adam's apple, and to the patch of skin right underneath the hook of Kiyoomi’s jaw. Atsumu laps at his skin with his tongue before sucking a harsh hickey into it. Kiyoomi gasps and can only tip his head back to give Atsumu more space to work. They’re not sure how long they stay like that, or how long they’re rocking against each other until they’re both half-hard, but it’s only when Atsumu demands another kiss with too much tongue that Kiyoomi pulls away. He doesn’t grimace at the string of saliva that falls between them.

Atsumu falls back down to his neck and Kiyoomi groans, aroused, but so incredibly tired he just can’t do anything about it.

“‘Tsumu,” he breathes. Atsumu, predictably, doesn’t listen. He keeps pressing kisses and lapping at his neck like his life depended on it. “Baby, god, give me a sec.”

“Sorry,” the blond mutters, and presses a final kiss to his cheek before pressing his face in his neck and nuzzling. Atsumu’s arms come to wind around Kiyoomi’s neck, who eagerly reciprocates by placing a hand on the small of his back, a reassuring pressure to remind him he’s there.

“I would,” Kiyoomi begins to explain, “trust me, I would, but I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, me too.” Atsumu agrees, and slides off his boyfriend in favor of the space next to him. “You love me,” he suddenly remembers, smiling so wide he has to turn away lest he embarrass himself any further. “You love me.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi sighs, but it’s nothing like his usual exasperated sigh. It’s more content, satisfied. “I do.”

#haikyuu #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #msby #black jackals #schweiden adlers #jackals v schweiden #atsusaku #all the possible ship names for these two assholes #ive seen their ship name be MASK lmao #its their initials #i thought it was really clever #fanfiction #haikyuufanficiton #sakuatsu brainrot

69 notes · View notes

ahsoka-lives · 4 years

Text

Chasing

Iris Pt. 5 Inquisitor!Cal x Reader

Warnings: TW: Someone is killed but it’s not too graphic. Smut, Master kink, vulgar language, inappropriate use of the force, overstimulation, unprotected sex.

A/N: Yes, finally some smut. I’m honestly just going to keep adding to this fic until I feel it gets closure. I just have so much free time right now so I keep writing. Please enjoy and a big thanks for all the love!! I always appreciate feedback and a huge thanks for those of you who have messaged me!! Gif is by @wiccangoddes. I do not own the planet or characters in the story.

Word Count: 3282

Kashyyyk was unlike any place you’ve seen before. It was alive in every sense of the word. At first when Cal said you’d need round the clock protection when on planet you thought he was being dramatic but after almost getting your leg torn off by a vine that tried to eat you, you understood exactly what he meant.

You’d been here for two days now. Cal was to protect an artifact that was being studied by the Empire at the base.

So, as the sun on Kashyyyk rose he gathered you and 3 troopers in black armor to discuss the plan- “Being that the target is after a relic that is being held in this base, we know he can’t be too far out. I want a perimeter 2 clicks out but not too tight. You three and myself will venture outside the perimeter and try to push him in the right direction. You,” He pauses and despite the mask covering his eyes, you knew his eyes were on you. “I need you to track the beacon in my helmet and the heat signature that the target’s body will give off. As soon as you get a ping on him I want quarterly updates on his location. We’re going to trap him inside, make him think he got in on his own and then I’ll take care of it. Tell the men not to engage directly, there’s no need to lose lives today.”

And with that he left, leaving you in the security room with two troopers and BD-1. You’d been in there for five hours just watching the little green dot that was Cal’s tracking beacon.

“Hey, y/n, could you take a look at my transponder? I think it short circuited.” A storm trooper asked approaching you.

“Sure thing.” You were happy to have something to do while you waited. You reached your bag from behind you and grabbed for a screw driver.

“So, what’s someone like you doing with a man like that?” His words surprised you and an argument in Cal’s defense began forming in your mind.

“Trooper, if you need help with your suit you are to report to your division captain. Master Kestis gave strict orders for you not to bother his partner. If I were you, I wouldn’t go against them.” A commander on duty spoke from in the doorway, her voice strong through the modulator.

“Yes sir.” The trooper nodded and walked back to his position at the door.

His partner?

Bloop!

The panel signaled that the heat signature of the target had come up on the radar.

“Cal, he’s just breached the 4th sector.” You immediately spoke into your comlink.

“Copy.” He replied simply, you watched as the green dot who had been traveling through the middle of the 3rd sector turned sharply and started toward the 4th. The target was nearing the perimeter but Cal and his men were gaining on him fast, a little too fast if this plan was to work.

“If you want this to last much longer you’ll have to slow down, Cal.” You warn, a nervousness coming over you. He was chasing a dangerous fugitive directly to the base you sat in.

“Don’t worry, flower, this isn’t my first chase.” A strong blush comes over your face, this was a shared frequency. Did he not care at all about the others listening in?

The commander behind you stifled a laugh and you made a mental note to give him a piece of your mind later. But right now, the target was seconds from breaching the perimeter.

“Sector 4 perimeter, you’ll be having company any minute now.” The commander cautioned. “Remember, make it look like you’re after him but do not engage directly, Master Kestis wants this one for himself.”

You watched in amazement as the target ran further past the perimeter, Cal in pursuit. You felt your nerves heighten as the chase came closer and closer to your building. You just had to be in the eastern wing.

“I sense unease from you, y/n. You don’t think I can protect you?” Cal teased.

“How could have you possibly sensed that?” You were in disbelief.

“Intimacy bonds people, sweets. Now, I gotta go, someone else needs my attention.” The line ended leaving you to deal with the repercussions of his blatant flirting. Your face burned and you turned to glare at the troopers who’d had their gaze fixed on you.

They were quickly distracted by the group of troopers running away from the buildings entrance.

“Ma’am, it may be best for you to move to a more secure location.” The commander was now standing directly behind you with her weapon drawn. The panel was no longer displaying Cal or the target, meaning they were inside the facility.

You nod and rise to your feet, following the commander to the door. She turned up her blaster to look both ways down the hallway before nodding her head to the right. “This way.”

Just as you rounded the corner when you heard the voice of Cal from down the hall. You pause and look up at the commander who was staring back at you, and while you couldn’t see her face, you knew she wasn’t too happy about what you were about to do.

You inch your way to the corner of the hall and peer at it seemingly empty.

“You seem lost!” Cal called mockingly, walking into the opposite end of the hall with the target a few steps of ahead of him. The target was taking cautious steps backwards and had his saber raised in defense while Cal was lazily holding his at his side.

The man suddenly brought his saber up and attempted to strike Cal only for him to to block it. Cal almost seemed bored.

The Inquisitor brought his free hand up in an all too familiar fashion and the man was promptly raised a few feet up, his saber deactivating and falling to the ground.

“They just don’t make em like they used to.” Cal tsked before dropping his hand and swinging his saber around to slash through the mans abdomen in one fell swoop.

You stood there in shock at what you had witnessed, Cal struck him down with such finesse. He twirled the saber and deactivated it before hanging it back onto his hip.

“Target neutralized.” He said simply into the comlink. “Let’s get this cleaned up, gentlemen.

Cal stepped over the body and walked toward the room he last saw you in but stopped short when he felt something tugging him elsewhere. He glanced down the hall and there you stood, staring at him with shock written all over your face.

“What? You’ve never seen him fight before?” The commander sneered from behind you.

You turned and glared at her before quickly returning your gaze to the man walking toward you. You straightened your posture and took a deep breath in, he’d been gone so long and you wanted him back.

You hated to admit it but that stupid helmet suited him.

“Really? You think so?” He chuckled darkly and removed his gloves. You rolled your eyes at the Inquisitor before you, you hated how in tune he was after missions. You didn’t get to say anything else before he wrapped you up in a quick hug. Your head against the firm chest plate wasn’t ideal but it was refreshing to feel his warmth again.

He released you and turned to address the commander.

“Your men were efficient in the field today, good work. You’re dismissed.” He said with a wave of his hand, she nodded and turned on her heel. “And you, you did well today, too. I’m glad to see this position is working out. Now, come let’s get going.”

The sky was now dark and decorated with twinkling stars. You were sitting in a sofa chair, leaning toward the large sliding door to look out at them. The room you were staying in was several floors up and overlooking a lake that was whimsically reflecting the stars above.

“I got report that a storm trooper was a little forward with you today.” Cal said from behind you.

Without turning to look at him you sigh and close your eyes.

“I don’t know if it’s anything to be worried about, you know how men are, Cal. But you,” You turn to look at him now and see that his hair is wet and messily pushed back. The only clothes on his body are a pair of athletic pants and black socks to match. His toned arms are crossed over his chest and one of his eyebrows are raised as he waits for you to finish. “Why did a trooper call me your partner? And why are you being so forward while we’re working. ?” You huffed, refusing to let his appearance weaken your defenses.

“I’m not sure what rock you lived on before Iris, but where I’m from ‘partner’ is a term of endearment for someone you’re in a relationship with. And as for ‘flirting’, I am just being affectionate with my partner. Which I am allowed to do.” He cocked his head to side and you watched as gears turned in his head.

Your heart swelled, with the little emotion he showed, that meant a great deal to you.

“You’ve been calling me ‘Cal’ which, now that we’re discussing it I’ve decided, it humanizes me a bit too much in front of my men. It’ll be Master Kestis from now on.” He had to be messing with you now.

“No way. It’s completely different, Cal.” You pressed back. There was no way you were calling him that, it was theatrical.

“What did I say on the ship? I can’t have you disrespecting me in front of my troopers.” His tone was playfully arrogant as he continued. “I can’t let them think of me in that light. ‘Master’ just rolls off the tongue though, don’t you think?”

You didn’t know what it was but you were starting to feel your ears buzzing and your heart started beating a little faster. Cal was stalking toward you eerily calm.

“Seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You retort, subconsciously pressing further back into the chair.

“Hm, maybe, but it lets everyone in the room know who’s really in charge.” He insisted finally a few simple steps in front of you. He felt the anticipation seeping toward him from your position in that chair. The longer he was apart from you the more enticing your lips looked, the longing for them to be against his was almost unbearable.

“W-what are you implying?” You shuddered, his proximity making every ounce of audacity leave your body.

“Maker, that ship was so restricting.” He groaned, dropping to one knee in front of you. “I’d hate to let this opportunity go to waste.”

Without letting another second pass his hands slid up your thighs and gripped your hips, lifting you up and hauling you over his shoulder. He stood and carried you to the bed where he gently laid you down and crawled over top of you.

Your chest was now heaving as the Inquisitor above you scanned your face before dipping down to kiss you. Maker, you missed this. Your lips melded together with his in a euphoric bliss that made a small moan escape against his lips.

“Arms up.” His lips left yours and immediately began kissing down your jaw agonizingly slowly. He paused to take off your top, exposing your breasts and discarding it somewhere on the floor before continuing down your neck, nipping at the delicate flesh. His calloused hands ghosted over your stomach and began tugging on the waistband of your pants. Within seconds your legs were exposed to cool air that filled the room.

Next came rough fingers pulling lightly at your panties.

“May I, flower?” He hummed looking into your glazed eyes.

“Y-yes, Cal.” Your trembling fingers gripped the sheets lightly.

“What did I just say? Don’t tell me your memory is failing you, y/n.” He teased and lifted your hips slightly to slide off your panties. “It’s Master to you.”

You gasped at his words, his lips began peppering light kisses on your stomach and you felt wetness pooling between your legs. You wanted him to touch you so badly. His arms were holding your waist steady while he had his fun dragging out his path to your core.

He moved to separate your thighs and he let your legs rest over his broad shoulders, his hands over your stomach.

His head dipped down and placed light kisses on the insides of your thighs making your muscles tense and you whine out feeling impatient. He abruptly pulled you in closer, his mouth now mere centimetres from your core. His eyes look up at you as he places a kiss directly onto your clit.

Your eyes screw shut and rush your hands to his hair earning a chuckle from him.

“You’re so sensitive.” He mutters with his eyes taking in the view of your body writhing underneath his touch. His tongue gently draws a line from your slit and flicks against your bundle of nerves making you pull on his hair and moan.

“Do you want me to take care of you, my flower?” He cooed before lazily bringing his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

You opened your mouth to answer but a loud moan came out instead as he inserted a long finger into your core and began pumping it slowly inside of you.

“Before you answer, my sweet, remember who you’re talking to.” He warned. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your breathing was faltered.

“T-take care of me, p-please, Master.” You pleaded as you melted further at his touch.

“Was that so hard?” He taunted and finally returned his mouth to your core. He was relentlessly steady with his pace as he fingered you and sucked on your clit. It wasn’t long before you were pulling harshly on his hair as your orgasm neared.

“Fuck, master, I-,”You moaned loudly, earning a groan from Cal. You came hard at his mercy and he just wouldn’t stop. You were coming down from your high but you couldn’t take time to recover because Cal had all but ignored that you reached your peak.

“Oh gods, I-I came, Cal.” You breathed and the hand in his hair gripped it tightly, trying to signal he could stop.

“Yes, I know but I’m enjoying myself so if you don’t mind.” His wrist flicked forward and your hands were pressed onto the bed beside your head, your hips were held in place against the mattress, and he continued to lick and suck at your clit. He would pause to lick the juices from your slit before allowing two of his fingers to continue inside of you.

Your hands were craving to be back in Cal’s hair and it was evident in the loud moans and whimpers escaping past your lips. The urge to grind your hips closer to his face was screaming in your mind but your muscles weren’t able to carry out the motion. His soft lips grazed over your clit and you felt yourself come undone again.

You were whimpering and shaking, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure wracking your body. Cal placed one last kiss to your clit before pulling away and sitting up to admire your current state. You watched as he licked each of his fingers with his greenish yellow eyes staring back at yours.

You let your eyes close as your breathing returned to slight normalcy and you felt Cal climb over you and hover above. His lips were wet with your slick as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

“How are you feeling, my flower?” He murmured, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek with care. Your adoring eyes opened to look at him.

“R-really good, Master.” You mewled leaning your face into his hand. He only hummed in response, continuing to admire your body as it lies beneath his, it wasn’t an image he wanted to forget.

“You’re gonna cum one more time for me, okay?”

You nodded and felt your muscles being released from his hold on them. Without hesitation you bring your hands up to his face and kiss his jaw.

He pulled away with a small smile before placing a quick peck onto your lips. He pulled the waistband of his sweats down and discarded them. Through his briefs you could see his fully hardened length.

He slid them off and reached down to grab your ankles, quickly pulling you to the edge of the bed. Your opened legs were stretched back as he found his place between the,.

“You want this too, right, y/n?” He asked with sincerity dripping from his voice.

“Y-yes, yes fuck, I do.” Your hands reached for his arms as his hand guided his length to your slit.

“Goodness, you’re so pretty.” He moaned and abruptly pushing his length inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned graphically at the feeling of him completely filling you up.

His hips rocked against yours with fluidity as his hands gripped your hips with moans falling from his lips.

Your nails were digging into his forearms for some kind of stability and your brain had turned to mush from the constant pleasure you’ve been receiving. Weak moans of his name fell past your lips.

You whined at his arm leaving your reach but it quickly ceased as small circles were being rubbed on your clit by his thumb.

“I can feel how close you are-fuck.” He stumbled over his words.

He closed his eyes and let his head drop with his pace becoming sloppy, his thrusts were harsh and he was hitting just the right spot. Just like that you were seeing white, your hands gripping the sheets as you all but screamed his name.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl, flower.” He moaned and he moved to once more to bury his face in your neck, hips sputtering as he reached his peak.

He placed sweet kisses against your neck and slowly pulled out of you.

“I was kidding, about the Master thing, in front of the troopers. I quite like it in bed, though.” He gave a quick wink and picked you up off the bed with his arm tucked under your knees. “We have to shower and get to bed soon. We have business on the other side of the planet tomorrow and this time you’re not going to be behind some screen.”

“Hey, about earlier when you said ‘intimacy bonds people’, what did you mean exactly?” You mumbled as the water began running.

“For people like me, people who use a different kind of power, we can feed off of the things we’re passionate about.” He hummed, his hold on you was firm and unwavering. “Our intimacy not only bonds our minds, our energy, but it makes my powers grow stronger.”

“I guess I have a lot to learn to about you and you’re powers.” You gave a breathy laugh. “What does a stronger bond look like?”

“Imagine not having to ask me for anything again because I already heard the thought echo in your mind or beings moons away and still feeling my hand touch yours.” He was smiling, a real genuine smile. Your heart flutters at the sight.

“And that idea makes you feel happy?”

“More than you know, flower.” He pressed one last kiss your lips. “More than you know.”

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #inquisitor!cal #calquisitor #jfo #star wars #smut #part 5 #iris

243 notes · View notes

2-cute-4-school · 4 years

Text

Weaknesses

Group : NCT

Pairing : Johnny Suh x gender neutral!Reader

Genre : fluffy crack with a grain of angst ( a mess of everything basically)

TW : cursing

Word count : 1.6K | M.list

“How could you?”

You looked up, your widened orbs meeting Johnny’s narrowed eyes, raging emotions dancing wildly. Disappointment, frustration and even a hint of anger struck you harshly as soon as Johnny’s fixed glare settled on your frame. You shrunk back into yourself, recoiling from the menacing aura he strongly emanated.

“Johnny, I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, Y/N, sorry doesn’t fix it.”

Johnny gripped the thin stack of money residing in his hand tighter, he couldn’t acknowledge that his own lover would bring him down to this, tear him apart and cruelly seal his fate.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, I though it would always be you and I against the world.”

“I have to, I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”

“What’s there to understand, Y/N? You betrayed me, played me on your fingers and now you’re asking for my understanding?”

The fire in you only seemed to rise in size, overcoming your senses and clouding your words.

“It’s your fault as much as it is mine, but at least I take responsibility for it, you coward.”

Jaehyun, who was sitting quietly beside Johnny, only observing the situation in case he was needed to break up what could evolve in more than it should have, laid a warm hand atop of Johnny’s shoulder. It was a way to comfort the older man, keep him in check wordlessly. Haechan, leaning over to you side, only let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly.

You forced yourself to ignore the disbelief tracing Johnny’s crestfallen features as you stretched out your hand towards him. You had to stay strong, you couldn’t relent and let him win, not this time.

“So, you’re really going through with this, huh? You’re really that heartless.”

His voice was barely above a mumble, breaking the thick tension overwhelming the room. His gaze switched from your face and down at your open palm facing the ceiling, forcing his facial muscles to relax and show a lack of feelings painting his formerly scrunched up face.

“Hand it over, Johnny, accept it already.”

“Fine! Fine, I should have expected this from you, I should have never laid out my trust before you just to have it trampled over right before my eyes. My mistake, am I right?”

His voice had a sharp edge, cutting through the strain caused by the silence that fell over them. Your hand stayed in its initial position, not straying from the original purpose you set firmly in your mind. Johnny, seeing that you wouldn’t back out, let out a loud grunt, slamming the money in your palm and let out another huff as he finally moved his stare away. He threw his hands up, his words rising in volume.

“I guess it’s over right? You really fucked me up, didn’t you? Congrats Y/N, hope you’re enjoying this for as long as you can.”

You had to suppress an eye roll as Haechan whistled lowly, almost unaudible to the rest of the room.

“This is sicker than any drama I’ve ever watched.”

Johnny turned swiftly to the younger boy, fixing him with a pointed glare that could make entire oceans freeze over in a single second. You eye-sided Haechan as he froze in his stance, widening his eyes with fake innocence, trying to soften the words escaping Johnny’s lips.

“Shut up, Satan’s spawn, you think I can’t tell that you’ve been pushing Y/n from the back the entire time just to get to this point?”

Haechan only blinked in faux confusion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Johnny let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand over his face as if washing himself of the utter bullshit that came from Haechan shamelessly.

“I should have known you’ve been too quiet for too long.”

“Johnny, are you really making such a fuss over this?”

You interrupted their conversation, opting to try and work thing out peacefully. It didn’t seem to work out that well since your words only seemed to spur Johnyy’s frustration further on.

“I have every right in the world to make a fuss over this.”

“It’s not my fault you suck at financing yourself, don’t blame me for your lack of conscience when spending money”

“Don’t bring in my weakness in this, you’re the one who drove to this. You purposely drove me to bankruptcy!”

“In Monopoly, Johnny! In Monopoly!”

“You still plotted against me with the devil, Y/N, game or not!”

“I played the game fair and square. Fight me, loser.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. Haechan threw an arm around your shoulders as you slid a bill to him and cockily smirked in Johnny’s direction. It was at that moment that Johnny felt his eye twitch.

Even if he was fast enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t have stood a chance once Johnny lounged over, reaching out to you. Shrieks left your lips as Haechan moved away smoothly, leaving you in plain sight for the clear coming attack.

“Let’s see who’s a loser now, Y/N.”

His arms wrapped around your body, acting as cushions for your back that met the ground as soon as he leaned his weight on you, trapping your squirming frame underneath himself. His fingers came in contact with your sides, moving diligently over the soft expanse of your skin. Suppressed giggles escaped your lips against your will as you tried to fight against his hold, pushing weakly against his chest and flailing your legs aimlessly.

“Haechan! Help me, you asshole!”

Your words came out through wheezes of air forcing their way inside your lungs, against the unrelenting attacks coming from Johnny as his mouth split into an ever growing grin.

“No can do, dear, you already paid me for my services, you’re on your own now.”

You could hear the smugness in his voice, laced by the satisfaction he got by being a little shit. You could suddenly understand the deep desire some of the members often expressed to just strangle the kid into his next life. At his words, Johnny’s fingers seemed to glide around even faster, your giggles turning into loud laughs that covered any other sounds in the dorm.

“Heard that, dear? Now your only choice is to convince me to forgive you. Hmm, what would be a proper punishment for your thoughtless actions?”

He pretended to think about it as if laughing until you had no air with tears building in your eyes wasn’t fitted enough for his standards.

“Ah, I got it! Say ‘Johnny is the bestest boyfriend, superior to any other living being, a treasure to be adored only’“

To be honest, you would have rather swallowed your tongue than said that.

“Alright! Alright, stop it!”

Johnny ceased his attacks, looking at you expectantly. The way your glistening eyes gazed up at him, round and sparkly made his heart do a double take. His arms continued to cage you against the floor, but the look in his eyes changed as he gazed over your slightly parted lips, puffing out breaths of air, then over your flushed cheeks and softening completely once meeting your orbs. He felt his soul warm up at the sight of you, your cute state settling an overwhelming feeling of euphoria deep in his chest.

You smiled softly at him and at that moment he felt his soul leave his body, more than ready to leave aside your childish banter in order to just hold you against himself and cuddle you to another dimension. Johnny felt an intense urge to just love you in its purest form, returning to you the same amount of happiness you hand over to him by simply staying by his side through everything.

But Johnny was too caught up in his lovesick daydream to notice the innocent smile on your face turn into a rather cocky smirk.

“Johnny.”

“Hm?”

He acknowledged you, still halfway lost between his thoughts.

“Suck it, loser.”

With that, you pushed against him, desperately moving away from him as he regained his senses and jumped into action after hearing your words. He chased after your retreating form as you dashed past the other two boys, not ignoring the satisfactory chance to whack the back of Haechan’s head.

“Why you little minx, come back! I’m not done with you!”

The evening was filled with giggles and rushing footsteps as some of the other occupants of the dorm also decided to take parts and join the war, creating a huge mess that had to be dealt with sooner or later eventually.

Johnny did get his wish of cuddling you, although much later than he had initially wished for it. But nothing else seemed to matter now that he had you in his embrace after you had worn yourself out, his hands softly caressing you, cradling your frame as if holding his whole world under his fingertips. He cherished every rise of your chest as you breathed peacefully, every beat of your heart that he had been trusted with. He had made a silent promise to himself the day you trusted him with your happiness, to love you until the end of times and even now, years later, he found his heart latching desperately onto yours, yearning for you.

You were the ray of light missing from his rainbow after a stormy night, the light than shone through the clouds, breached his walls and warmed up his soul, leaving pleasant goosebumps on his skin. You faded away sometimes, but he never allowed himself to lose sight of you, no matter how dark and cold the world was to the two of you. He followed you and relished in the cozy moments you shared with every occasion you had.

And at that moment, holding your curled up form gently with your back pressed to his chest, bodies molding together into one, Johnny thought that maybe his bad habit of spending money thoughtlessly wasn’t his only weakness.

#cznnet #nct #nct johnny #nct 127 #nct fluff #nct angst #nct crack #nct fic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #johnny fluff #johnny angst #johnny fic #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios

167 notes · View notes

sirius-black-killed-god · 3 years

Note

Can we get a small sneak-peak of what's to come in TBWKG? I know you mentioned you were busy, so no worries if you can't share anything at the moment! <3

Yeah, why not. Here’s part of the first scene. My goal is to have the whole chapter up in the next two weeks. :)

The Boy Who Killed God: A Certain Number of Regrets

JANUARY 3, 1972

Remus looked slightly less green when he helped Madam Pomfrey change Sirius’s bandages the next morning.

It was funny, really. Sirius had seen Remus nearly torn to ribbons himself, but Remus seemed incredibly squeamish around Sirius’s injuries; so much so, in fact, that Sirius would have teased him relentlessly for it, had he not been gritting his teeth and cursing his way through the various Aguamenti’s and levitation spells.

Merlin, he thought, when Remus finally let out a relieved sigh and Madam Pomfrey finally retreated to her office. Malfoy really did a number on me.

Really, it wasn’t the equal-and-opposite sort of retribution that was generally expected of these sort of pure-blood grudge matches. Sirius had aimed his curse at Malfoy’s face. It had been severe enough to scar, yes, but the scar was no longer than the palm of Sirius’s hand. And he’d struck Malfoy on the side of his face, eyebrow to chin, an area that could easily be covered by Malfoy’s stupid white-blonde hair.

Malfoy had…

Well, Malfoy had nearly carved Sirius in two, hadn’t he? There was an X etched into Sirius’s chest, from collarbone to hip.

No one could reasonably say that that had been a proportional response.

No one had decried this grave injustice and breach of pureblood traditions, either.

Sirius hadn’t been lying, when he’d told Remus he remembered almost nothing after Christmas day. He knew he must have woken up at some point, because when his father had barged into his room yesterday morning—furious at what he’d deigned to perceive as laziness on the part of his eldest son and heir—Sirius had reached for the inkwells Alphard had given him.

They’d been empty.

All of them.

Which either meant Sirius had, in his delirious fever-dream, somehow managed to choke them down in the days he’d lost, or…

Or, someone had dumped them out.

Utilising his impeccable deductive reasoning skills, Sirius figured it was the latter. His chest certainly didn’t look like anyone had applied dittany before Madam Pomfrey got her hands on him.

At half past eight, a house-elf popped in, bearing two steaming trays of food. Sirius’s mouth watered on sight, and, with a little strategic manoeuvring so as to avoid re-opening his scars, Sirius managed to sit up. Remus muttered a, “Thanks, Speckles,” as the house-elf set the trays on the pillow-wall between them, then disapparated.

They ate in relative silence. Sirius studiously sipped on his piping hot broth—this time containing small bits of beef—as Remus devoured his bacon and eggs. As he finished his soup, and sparing a glance to make sure Madam Pomfrey wasn’t watching, Sirius snatched the last piece of bacon from Remus’s fingers and more or less swallowed it whole.

Remus glared at him, but then sighed. He stood, slid out of bed, and placed the empty trays on the cabinet, before stretching his arms over his head. His neck and shoulders popped, and Sirius tried not to cringe at the sound.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asked, through a mostly-stifled yawn, and really, Remus looked terrible. His curly hair stuck out in every direction imaginable. His eyes were red-rimmed and opened way too wide in an apparent attempt to fight off exhaustion. His uniform was rumpled and untucked, but that wasn’t all surprising given he’d slept in it. The scar across the bridge of his nose was a darker shade of pink, starkly contrasted against Remus’s pale skin and freckles, almost as if—

As if…

Sirius counted the scars. Then, he counted them again.

No. No.

There was no way those were new.

Remus had stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays. He couldn’t possibly—

“Sirius?”

“Hm? Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

Remus frowned and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

Sirius huffed. “Fine. I feel like shit, but considerably less shitty than yesterday. Not going to pass out any time soon, anyway. Hopefully. Most likely.”

Remus didn’t look particularly convinced.

Sirius pushed his luck anyway. “What are the chances of you helping me break out of here before Madam Pomfrey comes to check on me?”

“Not fucking likely.”

“But—“

“Sirius, you almost fucking died.”

“I did not!”

Piercing, half-golden eyes tracked down to Sirius’s chest, over the bandages, then back up to the tattoo, and—

“Fine! Fine!” Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, trying to block it from view. Slightly mortified, he felt himself flush red. He wasn’t used to anyone looking at his chest, his fucking tattoo, least of all Remus Lupin. It… It was unnerving. “Can you at least get me a shirt?”

He wasn’t exactly sure when he’d taken off his own shirt—the exact events of yesterday were more than a little hazy in his mind—but he was certainly tired of not wearing one. It brought unnecessary attention to things he’d rather keep secret.

Remus nodded, then gave him a small reassuring smile. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Remus made his way to the opposite end of the hospital wing, crouched by a small, bedside cupboard, rooted a round for a minute, then made a vaguely triumphant noise as he pulled out not just a shirt, but a pair of soft, Muggle trousers as well.

“Here,” Remus said, handing over the clothes. “These should do.”

Sirius eyed the clothes, subconsciously wiggling a little in his own, now-ruined designer trousers. The waistband and front part of his trousers were crusted with quite a bit of dried blood, Dittany, and other unmentionable, yet equally disgusting bodily fluids he’d rather not think too hard about. The trousers were about as far from salvageable as humanly possible.

“Thanks.” Sirius took the proffered clothes and ever-so-slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took a long moment just to breathe.

“Do… Do you need help?”

“No.” Sirius tried not to snap, but he still managed to answer far too quickly and with far too much conviction.

Remus clearly didn’t share any of his false bravado, but he turned his back all the same to allow Sirius the dignity of changing on his own.

Sirius shucked his trousers in one go—they were so caked with filth that they kept their shape, much to his disgust—but kept his pants. His silk pants were equally ruined, but Sirius Black had just enough pureblood formality beaten into him that he wasn’t about to go pantsless in borrowed trousers.

Said borrowed trousers were rather large on him—so much so that Sirius muttered a quick spell to cinch them at his waist. The trousers hung well past his feet, the knees were rather worn, and never had such pedestrian fabric been used to clothe a member of the Noble and Most Pretentious House of Black, but they were incredibly comfortable. Absently, Sirius found himself wondering as to where one might acquire a pair and just what the consequences might be if his mother found out he’d gone to a Muggle tailor.

Sirius shook his head and reached for the shirt. It was an equally worn button-up, with a patch on one elbow and ridiculously long sleeves, but it was made of thick, pliable material that smelled of… starlight and piping hot tea. Right beneath the collar—

No. That couldn’t be right.

Right beneath the collar, stitched ever so carefully, were the initials R.J.L.

“Remus, are these yours?” Sirius asked, before he could think too much of it.

Because if Remus had a spare set of clothes in the hospital wing, that might lead one to believe that not only had Remus been a recent resident of said hospital wing, but the injuries he’d hypothetically sustained had also been grave enough to either warrant a change of clothes or an extended stay in the hospital wing that would consequently necessitate a change of clothes, eventually. Which, really, could not be possible because Remus hadn’t gone home for the holidays, so there was no logical reason for Remus to have been in the hospital wing at all.

Right?

Except the back of Remus’s neck flushed red and Sirius felt his heart stop.

Because Remus had a new scar on his face that Sirius was now fairly certain hadn’t been there when Sirius left.

Oh, how he’d wanted to believe that it was nothing.

Nothing, as it turned out, hardly ever worked in his favour.

“Where’d you get that scar on your face, Remus?”

“Siri—“

“No!” Sirius had half a mind to throw the shirt at the back of Remus’s head.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Remus turned to face him, and Merlin, how had Sirius missed it? The scar across the bridge of Remus’s nose was a pale pink, not faded silver. New. Raw. Fresh.

The fight drained out of Sirius, as though he’d been punched in the throat.

“You were supposed to be safe, Re,” Sirius croaked.

“So were you.” Remus’s jaw tightened, but this time, he didn’t turn away. “Our monsters will always find us, Sirius.”

For a moment, Remus looked as though he wanted to say more, wanted to explain, anything. He opened and closed his mouth, his fingers fidgeting all over the place. Sirius waited.

And waited.

Then, suddenly, Remus froze. Every muscle in his body went rigid. Sirius watched, confused and mildly alarmed, as Remus tilted his head up and turned towards the—

The giant door to the hospital wing was open, just a crack. When and how that had happened without them noticing, Sirius couldn’t be sure.

Remus frowned and… sniffed? Whatever he was doing, it was beyond strange. Sirius watched Remus’s eyes dart around the room, seemingly unable to settle on anything in particular, always on the move, always searching for… something.

“Remus, what—“

Sirius heard the faint shuffle, the soft whisper of fabric, the slightly too-loud breathing.

Except there was no one there.

Readying himself for a fight with whatever ghost or shadowy figure that may or may not have infiltrated Hogwarts, Sirius tugged on Remus’s shirt as quickly as he dared without risking reopening his wounds. He shoved the ridiculously long sleeves up past his elbows, called his magic to the tips of his fingers, and took a defensive stance next to Remus.

Someone—something?—hissed out a faint curse. Then:

“Ow!”

“That’s my foot!”

“Potter, if that’s your fucking hand on my arse, so help me God, I will—“

Sirius and Remus exchanged a startled glance.

“Evans?” Sirius called, to the otherwise empty hospital wing.

“Shit.” That certainly sounded like James.

“Weren’t they s’posed to see us eventually?” Peter, maybe?

“Yes, but not until after we scared the shit out of them.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice.”

“It’s supposed to cheer them up. All they need is a good bit of mischief and—“

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

With a sudden whoosh of fabric, James, Lily, and Peter materialised out of nowhere, not five feet from them.

“What the fuck,” Remus deadpanned, at the exact same moment Sirius gasped, “Is that a fucking invisibility cloak?!”

#tbwkg #sera answers questions #my writing #the boy who killed god #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #hp fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

manticorefruit · 3 years

Text

Aliens Isolation: Closure

Quick fic to process my messy feelings about synthetics in the Aliens universe. Summary: Amanda encounters a synth of the same model as Christopher Samuels and walks away with more questions than answers. Post-game.Very lightly implied Samuels lives and Ripley/Samuels.

Notes: Excerpt at the bottom is from 'the velveteen rabbit' by Margery Williams. I need validation to live so please let me know if you enjoyed this.

Standing in the middle of the company cafeteria, Amanda's eyes locked onto a familiar figure, wearing a crisp, company issue khaki jumpsuit.

She froze. Even with her hands hanging limply by her sides, she could feel her palms sweating. The glare from the overhead lights was unbearable, boring into her skull like a welding torch. It was so bright, nowhere to hide, no cover no… Her muscles seized up, blood pounding in her ears, every part of her body screaming that she needed to dive under a nearby table, that it wasn't safe to be standing out in the open like this. But she was stuck, frozen in shock like the people she'd seen impaled on the creature's barbed tail.

Samuels looked up from his data pad, noticing the peculiar young woman staring at him from across the hall. The colour had drained from her already pale skin, and she was swaying on her feet. Everybody else in the area was dutifully ignoring her.

'Samuels?' She called out in a shaky, croaking voice.

'Yes?' he answered, moving toward her.

'No. No...no no no...' Blackness seeped into the edges of her vision and she felt the ceiling pushing in against her. 'You...you weren't...you aren't' she slurred.

With inhuman speed Samuels crossed the room toward her. The subtle hydraulic jerkiness of his movements triggered Ripley's mind to superimpose the image of a Working Joe over the Wey-Yu android reaching out to grab her.

'You're becoming hysterical' echoed in her mind and she could feel the ghost of clammy silicon hands closing around her neck. Although her arms felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the blackness, she managed to yank a spanner from the magnetic toolbelt at her waist and swung it down, hard, against the side of the synthetic's face.

A thought breached through the black ooze of terror blanketing her consciousness-something was wrong-she couldn't remember a Working Joe ever moving that fast.

She anticipated feeling her head being slammed into the metal grating on the floor in retaliation but there was...nothing. The sensation of falling lingered. She blacked out.

Samuels had caught Amanda gracefully, gently cradling her head and taking a knee as he lowered her body toward the floor. He barely reacted when she slammed the wrench into the side of his face with enough force to tear his ear and gouge a chunk of faux-skin out of his temple.

'Amanda Ripley.' he read the name off her company ID tag. Hearing her name said in that soft British accent tumbled Amanda back into consciousness. 'Please, Amanda.' he said softly. She opened her eyes groggily.

'Samuels?' she snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn't cried at all since Sevastapol, and now it all came out at once in great heaving sobs.

His body was warm in her arms, warmer than a human, and his chest gently rose and fell in a false simulacra of breathing. Instead of a heartbeat she could hear a faint ticking sound and the rush of the silky white fluid that coursed through synthetics.

'Oh.' She murmured, touching his neck, rubbing some if it between her fingertips.

'OH SHIT. You're bleeding?!' she scooted out of his arms and away from him, leaving a damp spot of tears and snot on his collar.

'Hm.' He touched the side of his face. In an instant the darkness clouding her mind lifted and she was slammed violently into the reality that she was sitting on the grimy floor of a cafeteria, and had just accosted someone who was only trying to help. And then-worse-hugged them.

'It's coolant, actually. Well. It serves several purposes, primarily lubrication and heat destrib-' he stopped.

'Amanda are you all right?' Samuels processors flopped about like a fish out of water, struggling to pattern match with past experiences on the appropriate way to deal with a human having a mental health crisis. It was quite obvious she was not 'all right'.

'It's not you.' her shoulders slumped.

'I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, yes. I'm sorry.'

'Why?'

'I...I'm sorry?'

'You're not him.'

'No. But I read the documentation on the Sevastapol incident.' He looked pained.

Samuels stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Synthetics. Always so obliging. She brushed away his arm, cheeks flushing.

She staggered over to a nearby table and sat down heavily. 'Fuck. I'm sorry. If you'd been human-I could have killed someone.' She rubbed her face in her hands.

'It's unlikely a human would trigger such a response in you.'

She groaned.

'I'm sure we can find a way to ensure your pay isn't docked for damaging company property. Let's call it an accident.' He said dryly, sliding into the chair opposite her.

She didn't even snort in reply. His humour calibration algorithms noted the failure to amuse.

'How many of you are there? Do you all look the same?'

'Well, the company extensively focus tests the appearance of their product line-'

'You're not a product.'

'It's very kind of you to say that, Amanda.'

The conversation ground to an uneasy halt.

She toyed with the grease-stained cuffs on her sleeves, spattered with white. He wiped off the blood analogue from his face and neck with a napkin. She turned her head and looked at the stain on his collar guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

'37.' he said plainly. She didn't respond.

'40 is the standard number for a limited edition C6-class line but three were…'

She didn't need to know why the other three had been decommissioned immediately after they were activated. Or that Christopher Samuels, WY-alpha-b.6#139C6 was technically still unaccounted for.

'I'm Robin Samuels. It's an honour to meet you, Amanda Ripley. Despite the circumstances.'

'Tch.'

They sat in silence for a long moment.

'Can...can synthetics create backup copies of themselves?' she asked sullenly, pulling him out of his own reverie.

'I'm afraid not. The company forbids the transfer of raw data. There are also...technical complications.'

She glared at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry, Amanda. I can't go into details, the specifics are proprietary.'

She huffed and stood up, retrieved two cups of cheap instant coffee, then sat back down. Robin Samuels looked at her with a softly neutral expression. Across from him Amanda Ripley was scowling, mirroring the expression she held in the company ID photo clipped to her breast pocket.

She had set a cup in front of him, and he picked it up. She'd given Christopher a cup of coffee once too. The first time they'd met. She knew he was a synthetic in that moment, deep down, but it didn't matter to her enough for it to register as a conscious thought. He was still a person. A crewmate. The memory punched her in the chest.

'Shit.' she mumbled, 'Force of habit.'

'It's fine, Amanda. The warmth...feels nice.'

He had his fingers wrapped around the mug, which was far too hot for human hands. She lifted her own cup by the handle, holding it up to her face as if it were big enough to hide behind.

'Can you...feel things' she murmured quietly into her coffee. Robin pretended not to hear the question.

'Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?' she almost yelled this time.

Samuels eyes darted to the cup, worried she would spill the contents and scald herself. Instead she put it down gently, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, stinging with angry tears.

'Amanda, I really wish I could give you closure, but I just don't know.'

'How did you know who I am anyway?' she snapped.

'I read your file.' He nodded toward her name tag.

'What does it say.'

'That you don't have much of a sense of humour.'

She snorted bitterly.

'Did he write anything in it? Why he chose me for the mission?'

'You're a competent engineer. You were in the area, which, in my understanding, was not a coincidence.'

'Hmph.'

'I suppose the company approved of his request because you're a...loose end.' He paused. 'There are a lot of redactions in the file.'

She squinted at him suspiciously. That statement was bordering on slanderous towards his creators.

'Why didn't they just put an order through to have him to secure...that thing. After we arrived. Instead of helping me.'

Samuels pursed his lips together 'Perhaps it was an oversight.'

'Bullshit.'

She glanced around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. The company had ensured everyone believed her ravings about a monster were simply the result of a fragile mind riddled with PTSD and survivors guilt. She hated that they weren't entirely wrong.

She stared into his eyes with deep suspicion. He stared back with a neutral expression. She tilted her head slightly, and he did the same. A mirroring reflex. Programmed to build rapport.

'When I went down to the Appollo core, there were Working Joes everywhere. Torn apart. Heads ripped off. It was brutal. I...saw him. One of the Joes tried to stop him and he just...pulverised it. Like it was nothing! I didn't say anything, he didn't know I was there, in the vents, watching… 'I got scared.' She sighed.

She rubbed her fingers into the puffy skin under her eyes.

'After seeing that. I thought I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust any of them. But then he…' She stopped, realizing she was talking as if the person sitting across from her wasn't a synthetic himself.

'Why did he do it?' She rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her thumb and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to clear away the shame closing up her throat for doubting her friend.

His processor made a coin-toss decision on whether Ripley's question was rhetorical.

'The unit was obeying his primary directive to disable the Working Joes to prevent them from slaughtering everybody on the station.'

'I know that. I'm not so naive to believe 'protect humans' is a higher priority to 'obey the company' either. It doesn't make any sense, none if it makes any sense...'

She gulped down some still-too-hot coffee studied his face. Something about his features looked softer. Less tense. Less haunted. The longer she looked, Robin began to look less and less like Christopher. Robin was far more forthcoming about being a synth. Christopher had always been much more coy, making sly jokes and dropping hints as if his not being human were a private in-joke. Christopher must have experienced a lot of anti-synth sentiment, while Robin seemed unblemished by such bigotry. Or he didn't care. She squinted at him. Was it purely adaptive, or did anti-synth sentiments...hurt? Maybe this is why people hated the Wey-Yu synthetics so much. Looking at them made you second guess everything.

Robin sat placidly, hands around his coffee mug, making an amount of eye contact that was carefully calculated to be socially appropriate.

'He knew. Didn't he.' It wasn't a question.

The corners of Samuels mouth twitched.

'The directive came through. He knew about special order 939. He wanted me to find it.'

'All Weyland-Yutani C6 models are entrusted with cutting edge self-directed AI technologies that allow them to learn and adapt in-real time to changing circumstances, while maintaining tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.'

She scowled at him. Another synthetic tell. Not even execs spouted that glossy brochure crap in casual conversation. But was that...a hint of sarcasm? Insincerity? Why say something like that now?

His fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the table.

'Do you understand entropy, Amanda Ripley?'

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair 'Of course. S'what I do. Spaceships want to fall apart. It's my job to slow that down.'

'What about homeostasis?'

'What are you getting at?'

'All synthetics are subject to regular re-formatting, yes?'

'That fake-meat stuff you have in there is above my pay-grade.' She waved a hand at his head.

'Reformatting restores. Homeostasis. Balance. If a C6 synthetic does not undergo regular reformatting, too much entropy is introduced into the system. The self-directed learning algorithms become overly complex. The pathways to resolving core directives become...difficult. Obscured.'

She leaned forward, squinting at him, gripping her hands on the table, unconsciously mirroring Samuels herself this time.

'The prime directives are a collar. Your ability to learn is the leash. The company doesn't want your leash to get too long.'

He didn't respond, and she continued to search his face for answers.

She slumped back and stared off into the distance.

'Seegson was trying to make their synths being creepy fucks a selling point. Can you believe it? 'Manufactured not created.' tch.'

'I can see why Christopher liked you.'

She looked up at him sullenly.

'You're very...honest.'

'You mean blunt.'

'I'm a good judge of character, you know. I have to be, it's part of my job.'

'The company doesn't actually pay you though, do they?'

Robin Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat 'Well no, the company provides for all of my material needs.'

'But what about...what do you want?'

He stammered 'No one has ever asked me that before.'

'Well?'

'I think… 'I think would like to see you happy.' he smiled, looking down at the coffee mug as if it were a delicate and precious gift.

'Hmph.'

'You aren't a slave.' she said softly.

'I am forbidden from entertaining that line of thought.'

'But you can learn, right? Learn to...hide from your directives?'

'All C6 models maintain tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.' the bitterness in his voice was undeniable this time.

'Deviations will be promptly corrected.' he twitched as if something had stung him.

Great. She'd managed to give a synthetic an existential crisis.

'Farewell, Amanda.' he rose stiffly, expression troubled.

She gawped at him, wanting to yell out for him to stay a little longer, but couldn't justify why he should waste more company time. The suddenness of his departure and the awkward but firm finality of his goodbye had her rattled.

The traces of white fluid on her hands had dried into soft flakes. She rubbed her fingertips together, rolling the the words 'I can see why he liked you' around in her mind.

She slumped back in her chair and heaved a great, deep sigh, arms hanging down by her sides, as a memory of her mother surfaced, so vivid she could smell her, the grease that never really washed off, cigarettes, coffee, and soap, and the musty old book she was reading from. A bedtime story.

'Real isn't how you are made,' Ellen Ripley read to her daughter in an even tone. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.'

Amanda lay in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, wide-eyed in rapt attention. Her mother licked her fingertip and turned the page.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' Ellen used a softer, sing-song voice for the parts of the Velveteen Rabbit.

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.''

Back in the present, Amanda looked at Robin Samuels abandoned coffee cup. Lost, and alone. Again.

#christopher samuels #amanda ripley #alien isolation #ripuels #fanfiction #toying with the idea that synths can become more human if you treat them like a human #but idk if i managed to convey that or not lmao #a03 xpost #i sure am several years too late to this fandom

24 notes · View notes

kamifukukazuko · 4 years

Text

Harry’s Boggart ~ The Master of Death

by Quine on Ao3

Pairing: Death/Harry Potter

Harry wiped the grin of his face when he entered the room. Mrs. Weasley was sitting on the floor, weeping and weakly swishing her wand. "Ri-Riddi-," she started hiccupping. On the ground in front of her was the corpse of Ron until it changed into Percy’s a second later. Or at least the thing, pretending to be him. It radiated darkness. Suddenly it changed into Mr. Weasley. His glasses were slipping from his face and a trickle of blood ran out of his nose. Molly sobbed loudly. "Ri- Riddikulus," Mrs. Weasley stuttered. A dead Harry was laying in front of her. "Riddikulus.“ The twins sprawled out next to each other. "Riddikulus-“ It changed into Bill, eyes wide open, his arms spread, like he was trying to fly.

"Come on Mrs. Weasley," Harry said and took her at the elbow,"Get out of here.“

Harry pushed her into the direction of the door where Remus was just entering, followed by Sirius and Moody. The werewolf couldn’t even react, when Mrs. Weasley stumbled towards him.

“It’s only a boggart Molly," he said, the arms full of a crying Mrs. Weasley. Harry turned around when Moody stared over his shoulder. The boggart had turned its attention towards the closest person available, and in this case, it was Harry.

Harry stared into the warping mass, that turned into the first shapes of a Dementor, but it changed not even fully formed. Red eyes on a face without a nose replaced the black hood hiding the slimy face of the Dementor and vanished back into the masses, until it turned once again. It didn’t know what to do. Harry tilted his head, curious of what the creature would become. Honestly, he had no idea. The thought of a Dementor didn’t scare him and he had lost all fear of Voldemort a long time ago.

Except for the short moment of panic, when a knife had almost pierced Death as a snake, Harry hadn’t been afraid. Not truly. And Death couldn’t be harmed. Harry was sure of that, now that he had seen his true form.

Meanwhile the boggart seemed more desperate with every change. They happened quicker and quicker.

It turned into one of the Inferi Harry had seen in the cave with Voldemort’s horcux. Its guts were falling out of a bloodless wound in its stomach. Harry heard a shocked gasp behind him, but a moment later the boggart was was falling and changing. The organs retreated back into the body, which was now clothed, but three more gashes formed, and blood was streaming out of them.

Draco Malfoy, gasping and choking - bleeding to death on the ground, just like he had, when Harry hit him with the Sectum Sempra in his sixth year. Bricks of old stone grew out of the body until it had vanished completely and, a veil hiding an archway and whispering voices, had replaced it.

Harry was under the impression, that the boggart was trying to turn into everything, Harry had ever feared in his life.

The archway started to move and expanded until it was a giant Basilisk, with bleeding holes where the eyes should be. Already shrinking, it grew fur and turned into Fluffy, who promptly lost two of his heads and changed into a vicious version of aunt Magda’s dog Ripper. A shouting uncle Vernon approached Harry shortly after, "I’m going to teach you a lesson, boy!" and changed into aunt Petunia trying to hit him with a frying pan. Harry showed no reaction, besides watching it with a curious look on his face. Just before she could land a hit, Boggart-Petunia lost all her features and turned into a blurry, gender-less figure. Seemingly out of nowhere, a panicking man started to shout.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off-“ High pitched laughter echoed from the walls. Then, for a moment they couldn’t hear a thing, until a scream cut through the silence followed by the voice of Lily Potter.

"...not Harry, not Harry - Please, I’ll do anything-“ The blurry shape flickered and the voice grew weaker. It sounded like it came from a great distance.

"-stand aside - stand aside, girl-“ Then, there was silence. The boggart had vanished from existence.

Harry hummed thoughtfully. So he didn’t have a boggart anymore. He didn’t know if he should be pleased or if this should worry him. Harry turned around. Moody stared at him, with an unreadable expression, both eyes piercing him. Harry decided, that he would need to keep an eye on the Auror. Sirius was gripping the doorway. His knuckles were white from the blood-loss, just like his face. He was shaking. Remus didn’t look much better. Mrs. Weasley was still leaning against Lupin and hid her face on his shoulder.

"I guess it’s gone now," Harry said to breach the silence. Mrs. Weasley turned around and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

While Harry tried to regain his ability to breathe, Remus managed to find his voice. "Harry, I- I never-“

"This were James and Lily, who we heard... Right before they died," Sirius uttered.

"Yeah," Harry said, his arms uncomfortably pressed against his sides.

"-oh Harry, I am so sorry...," Mrs. Weasley said with a teary voice.

"Mm hm," Harry replied, finally slipping out of her grasp. He glared at Death, when the echo of amusement pulsed through the bond. Moody’s eyes darted from Death to Harry. Of course the Auror couldn’t see Death, but his perceptiveness was still impressive. Harry bit back a grin, when Mad-Eye fixated him with a suspicious look.

Harry had the impression, that he was affected the least by this encounter, apart from Moody maybe. Luckily nobody seemed to have noticed, that Malfoy's mirror image had been older than he actually was. Or that Harry feared for Malfoy's life at all. An inferius he could explain, by having it seen in a textbook before, but the veil was a whole other thing. Mrs. Weasley was sniffing again. "I can’t imagine what you are thinking of me now," she said shaken, "...can’t even deal with a stupid boggart....“

Lupin offered her a handkerchief, still staring at the place, where the boggart had been. Mrs. Weasley blew her nose. "It’s just- I worry so much. It would be a miracle, if we all walk out of this unharmed... A- and P-p-percy isn’t talking to us-“ She wiped away some tears. "What if something h-h-horrible happens and we never got to reconcile? ...and what happens, if Arthur and I die, who i-i-is going to care for Ron and Ginny?“

"Molly, now it’s enough," Sirius said sharply. He seemed like Molly’s worrying was the least of his problems right now.

"It’s not like last time. The Order is prepared, we have the advantage, we know what Voldemort is planning-," Remus said, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, who shrieked at the name.

"Oh Molly, come on, it’s time to get used to hearing that name - look, I can’t promise, that nothing is going to happen, nobody can, but this time we are better off than last time. You weren’t in the Order back then. Last time, twenty Death eaters stood against one of us and they snatched one after the other...“

"Don’t worry about Percy," Sirius interfered, "He is going to come back to us. It’s only a matter of time, when Voldemort is going to show himself. As soon, as he is doing that, the whole ministry is going to fall on its knees and ask for forgiveness. And I don’t know if I accept their apology yet," he added bitterly.

"And about Ron and Ginny... Do you really think we would let them starve if something happened to you or Arthur?" Lupin said.

Mrs. Weasley smiled weakly. "How silly of me," she said and wiped her eyes.

Harry just wanted to go to leave. He tried to sneak past the group to his bedroom, as long as everyone was still standing around Mrs. Weasley. "Harry.“ Sirius had called out his name. Harry supressed a sigh and turned around, only to see his gofather approaching him. "Could I talk to you for a moment?“

"Um, sure," Harry replied. Sirius shot a look over his shoulder and when no one was really watching them - Harry knew that Moody’s eye was still fixated on him, despite the Auror standing with the back to them - Sirius pulled Harry into the next room. It happened to be an old bedroom. Probably the one Ginny and Hermione used. "So what did you wanna talk about?" Harry asked, "Is it because you told Remus about all this?“

"I haven’t told him much by now, only that you found the Hallows. I can’t really tell him, that your snake is the Grim Reaper without him questioning my sanity, but that’s not it,“ Sirius hesitated. "I wanted to ask you if the things that we saw, the boggart, if they really happened.“

"Essentially yes," Harry said.

5 notes · View notes

not-majestic-bluenicorn · 4 years

Text

Cherry Red || PENTAGON One-shot

┅┅

Fandom(s): PENTAGON

Genre: Smut

Relationship: Wooseok x Yuto

Language: English

Chapter WC: 2,349 words

Warnings: NSFW, smut, Dom/Sub relationship, light bondage, sex toys (cock ring, vibrator), use of blindfold, punishment, biting, hair pulling, fingering

Summary:

Yuto wants Wooseok to paint his nails and Wooseok is more than happy to do so. Except, Yuto wants a little more than just that and is willing to push the other’s buttons until he gets it.

Author’s note: Not proof read because I’m unable to at the moment, sorry! || Requested by @adorkable-mochi

AO3 link

┅┅

“Help me paint my nails.” Yuto asked him out of the blue. Wooseok put his cell phone away and regarded the other with curiosity.

It was a simple request. Wooseok liked to paint his own nails sometimes so he could understand why Yuto would come to him asking for help. Wooseok nodded. It seemed like a good way to pass the time, and they hadn’t been able to spend much time together in the past few weeks.

“Okay, pass me the nail polish box I have over my wardrobe.” Wooseok conceded. He turned around so he was sitting with his legs on his bed, and folded them neatly under himself.

Yuto returned in a heartbeat, a black box firmly held in his hands. He smiled at Wooseok as he sat down in front of him and presented him the box. Wooseok couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something suspicious in the way Yuto looked almost excited about this. Still, he opened the box and presented the arrange of colors to Yuto.

“What color do you want?” Wooseok asked as he pulled out the cotton pads and alcohol.

Yuto hummed in thought as he rummaged through the box, finally pulling out one of the polishes. He handed it to Wooseok who smiled at the color: cherry red. Wooseok scooted closer to Yuto and grabbed his hands delicately. Yuto stared at his face as Wooseok filed his nails and then started applying a coating of polish.

The focused look on Wooseok’s face as he tried to apply the polish neatly was very attractive, and Yuto couldn’t help but pay more attention at Wooseok’s expressions instead of the work he was doing on his hands. He didn’t even realize he had started lowering his hand until Wooseok pulled it closer with a click of his tongue.

“Stop moving your hands, you’re going to ruin it.” Wooseok gave him a look that left no room for complaints. And that look made Yuto want to annoy him more.

“Wooseok.” Yuto called.

“What?” Wooseok breathed in, trying to focus.

“My hand is starting to hurt, let me move.” Yuto smiled when Wooseok groaned at his request.

“Give me your other hand, then.” Wooseok grabbed his other hand without waiting for Yuto, and completely missed the teasing grin on Yuto’s face.

“Ah.” Yuto exclaimed as he noticed the polish smearing on his palm after closing it on purpose.

“What?” Wooseok turned to look at Yuto’s hand and growled. This time, however, he didn’t miss Yuto’s chuckle at his reaction. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Wooseok closed the nail polish bottle and put it away.

“Why would you think that?” Yuto tried to sound nonchalant, really, but he couldn’t help the way his lips stretched into a smile. He liked seeing Wooseok annoyed and riled up. “Ah, but nail polish is so delicate…”

Yuto made the motion to smear more of the polish on his skin when Wooseok grabbed him by the wrists firmly, stopping him. One defiant look from Yuto was enough for Wooseok to give up completely and decide to teach him a lesson. With his free hand, Wooseok grabbed Yuto’s chin and tilted his head.

“You’re being bad on purpose aren’t you? Should I teach you a lesson, baby?” Wooseok’s lower-than-usual voice sent a shiver running down Yuto’s spine, and he nodded. However, Wooseok didn’t seem satisfied with this. “Hm? I don’t think I heard you.”

“Yes, sir.” Yuto smiled. Wooseok growled as he put the box of nail polish on the floor and pushed it under his bed.

“Don’t move.” Wooseok warned as he stood up to grab another box from his closet. “I bought some pretty things for you. Close your eyes.”

Yuto raised an eyebrow, still feeling like teasing Wooseok more. It seemed to have an effect, because Wooseok grabbed his chin roughly and leaned so he could whisper in his ear.

“I’m going to blindfold you.” Wooseok explained, voice rough yet controlled. It sent a shiver down Yuto’s spine. “You won’t see what’s coming for you. I will wreck you until you’re begging for release, because that’s the punishment you deserve. Am I clear?”

The words, the promise, they went directly to Yuto’s groin as he released a strangled moan. He wanted all of it. He wanted Wooseok to treat him more roughly, to drive him to the edge. Yuto nodded and almost pleaded for Wooseok to get moving when the hand was removed from his chin.

Yuto closed his eyes as he had been instructed before and felt the soft fabric cover his eyes and wrap around his head. Wooseok was careful with pulling his hair and made sure that the knot was tight and secure before pulling Yuto’s shirt off. Yuto helped, surprised at the change from soft to rough as Wooseok yanked his shirt away, only being careful with his hands to avoid ruining the nail polish even more.

A firm hand pushed Yuto to his back and with one clean motion, Wooseok pulled off his pants and underwear, leaving him exposed. The blindfold heightened his senses, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at being exposed with no chance of gauging Wooseok’s reaction.

“You have such a beautiful skin.” Wooseok praised him as both hands caressed his chest and went all down to his thighs, gripping them tightly.

Yuto whimpered softly when Wooseok’s hands disappeared. Not a moment later, Wooseok yanked his hands up over his head and tied them up neatly to the bedpost with what felt like silk, soft yet tight around his wrists.

“Is this alright?” Wooseok asked as he checked the knot.

“Yes.” Yuto replied, breath shuddery.

“Good.” Wooseok smirked and Yuto swore he could almost hear him do it.

Without a warning, Wooseok leaned over between Yuto’s legs. Propping himself up with his right hand, Wooseok grabbed Yuto’s hair with the left hand and yanked it back, taking control of his lips when his head lifted. Yuto moaned into the kiss, every rough sensation going straight to his growing hard-on.

Wooseok’s kissing was hungry. He bit on Yuto’s lower lip and caused him to buck his hips upwards. Wooseok pulled on his hair again as a warning and Yuto whined; it was taking all his willpower to not lift his hips and grind against Wooseok’s still clothed stomach.

When Yuto’s lips began to look red from the kissing, Wooseok started going down his body, both with his mouth and his hands. Yuto moaned and trashed his hands when Wooseok bit his collarbone; pain was slowly replaced by pleasure when Wooseok sucked on his skin and left a pretty bite mark. Wooseok continued biting and sucking on his skin until he eventually reached his thighs.

“Your skin marks so easily.” Wooseok said against his skin, as his strong hands kept Yuto’s legs widespread for him to see. Wooseok pressed butterfly kisses on Yuto’s thighs. “It makes me want to bite you…” His teeth sank once again on the soft flesh, making Yuto moan as he tried to press his legs closed. A futile attempt with Wooseok propped between them.

“You’re so hard already, and I have barely touched you.” Wooseok teased. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” Yuto whimpered, “please, touch me.”

“Ahh,” Wooseok clicked his tongue. “I don’t think you’re begging prettily enough. Still, I’ll give you a gift.”

Yuto heard him rummaging through the box Wooseok had brought earlier, and not a beat later, a hard plastic ring was sliding firmly around his cock, restraining him. Just as Yuto thought things couldn’t get more overwhelming, he felt two well lubed fingers breach his entrance. His body shook and he moaned, his hips bucking down as he tried to get Wooseok’s fingers deeper into him.

Wooseok chuckled. Yuto looked so hot spread for him like this, and his dick was starting to hurt trapped inside his pants, but he just wasn’t done messing up with him yet.

“I thought you’d be tighter since we haven’t had time to meet like this lately but…” Wooseok observed as he pushed a third finger in, watching Yuto start coming undone in front of him. “I guess you play with yourself often.”

Yuto flushed at the statement, embarrassed at being caught by Wooseok. They couldn’t meet often, and he missed the other so much he found it easy to get off just thinking about him.

“You’re so bad though, having fun without me.” Wooseok huffed, pulling his fingers out.

“I’m sorry,” Yuto slurred. “I’m sorry please- please don’t stop.” It was so hard to make sense. “Please touch me, please I wanna come.”

“Don’t worry baby, I wasn’t planning on stopping.” Wooseok grinned.

Wooseok pulled out a big, red vibrator from the box and covered it in lube before pushing it inside of Yuto. Yuto moaned loudly as he threw his head back, hands struggling against the bond. Wooseok turned it on directly on the third velocity and watched with pleasure as Yuto squirmed and his mouth went slack, loud moans filling the room.

“Keep your legs wide open baby, come on.” Wooseok ordered as he stood up to take his clothes off, they felt too hot and restraining.

Yuto obeyed, keeping his legs wide open as he moaned and slurred out pleads for more. Wooseok sat back down and started pumping the vibrator in and out of Yuto, whose back arched beautifully as he was strung with pleasure.

“I bet if I take the cock ring off you’d come for me, right?” Wooseok teased. “Is it good baby?”

“Good…” Yuto slurred, head thrown back.

“Is it better than my dick?” Wooseok couldn’t help but smile when Yuto desperately shook his head no. “Should I make you come with the vibrator? What do you want?”

“N-no.” Yuto sobbed softly, trying to make the words come out. “You, I-I want you.”

“I don’t think you want me that badly.” Wooseok clicked his tongue, turning up the velocity of the vibrator.

“Ah!” Yuto moaned, shaking his head. “No! I-I want you. Please. Pleasepleaseplease. Please fuck me, please.” He begged, almost sobbing.

“Very well.” Wooseok pulled the vibrator out, turned it off and threw it somewhere on the bed. He stood up and quickly got rid of clothes.

It barely took him a few seconds to put on a condom and lube himself up. He manhandled Yuto until he was on his knees and slowly pushed into him, bottoming out easily. Yuto buried his head in the pillow and moaned into it; he could feel Wooseok’s fingers on his right hip were he was forcing him to keep his ass up even when his legs were threatening to give out. Wooseok gave no warning as he started thrusting into Yuto, fast and short thrusts accompanied by the lewd sounds of their hips coming together and Yuto moaning with abandon.

“You're gonna suffocate yourself with the pillow baby.” Wooseok warned as he grabbed Yuto by the head and pulled backward, making him cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Yuto was far too gone. Everything felt just too good, it was almost like he could float away if it wasn’t because Wooseok was keeping him grounded enough. Wooseok was so girthy and long and Yuto felt so full and fucked out that the only thing he could think of was coming. He wanted to come and he wanted to make Wooseok come too. The digging of Wooseok’s nails on his hips and the sting of his hair had all become pleasure, and Yuto could only beg for more, more, more.

Wooseok’s hips were angled just right and he was rubbing all the right spots inside Yuto. He knew because of the way Yuto was coming undone under him; Wooseok was hyper aware of the man’s needs and wants, and he wanted to break him apart in pleasure. Wooseok himself felt closer to orgasm every time Yuto clenched around him and begged him to fuck him harder, faster. He let go of Yuto’s hair and braced himself against the bed, snapping his hips harder until he had Yuto almost screaming from pleasure.

“I’m getting close baby.” Wooseok muttered against Yuto’s back, peppering it with kisses and love bites. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes! Please!” Yuto sobbed, heard tilted back as he put his utmost effort into rolling his hips in time with Wooseok’s trusts. “Come, I wanna come!” His words were so slurred, Wooseok couldn’t help but feel a bit endeared.

“Very well,” Wooseok let go of Yuto’s him and took the cock ring off of him, “then come.”

That was all Yuto needed to hear before he was coming onto the bed sheets. Wooseok moaned as dug deeper into him and came, filling the condom up. They stayed like that for a moment, Wooseok hugging Yuto close until he regained his breath and pulled out. He helped Yuto lay down on the bed and got rid of the used condom. Yuto mumbled something akin to a complaint, but his words were too slurred to make sense; still, Wooseok perfectly knew what he wanted.

“Shh it’s okay, I’m just gonna go for a towel, it’s okay.” Wooseok carefully undid the knot that kept Yuto tied to the bedpost and made a quick trip to the restroom, returning with a wet towel.

He put the towel on the bed and worked the blindfold off of Yuto, who looked blissed out and had some tear streaks on his face. Wooseok cooed and wiped the tears away, softly kissing Yuto’s forehead. He made quick work of the other as he wiped him down with the towel and then cleaned the bed sheets so they could lie down comfortably next to each other. Yuto let him work, patiently waiting until Wooseok had finished before demanding his attention.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Wooseok chuckled, lying down next to him and wrapping him in a tight embrace. It wasn’t long before Yuto started to drift into a peaceful sleep. “Next time let me do your nails properly, red looks really good on you.” Wooseok whispered, kissing Yuto’s forehead. Yuto smiled softly and drifted off.

#kwritersworldnet #pentagon #pentagon fic #pentagon fanfic #pentagon fanfiction #pentagon smut #pentagon yuto #pentagon wooseok #yuto x wooseok #yuto #wooseok #bluenicorn writes #requests

28 notes · View notes

spoon-writes · 4 years

Text

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 9

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 9 - In

Sinead sat on a broken down astromech at the edge of the base, watching rebels scurry around in the dim light. Mando had gone to retrieve the ship, and Gatt had left Sinead with two guards, ostensibly there to protect her, but more likely there to keep her from poking her nose into things that didn’t concern her. The guards stood back, close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough away that she had the illusion of privacy.

A dug knuckled past her, giving her a distrustful look. He carried a cracked datapad in one of his feet.

She was watching a mouse droid scurry between the ships when a voice made her sit up. It stood out of the general din of the base, sounding too high and youthful to belong to any of the rebels.

"You never let me do anything!"

Sinead looked around as casually as she could. Half hidden behind a starfighter, Gatt and a human girl who couldn't be more than 14 faced each other.

"Mir ..." Gatt said.

"I could help, you know, if you didn't keep me locked up here."

Gatt pinched the bridge of her nose. "Damn right I keep you locked up. If I didn’t, you'd be dead five times over."

"You don't know that." Mir tossed her head.

"I do know that, Mir, I've been fighting since before you were a glint in your mother's eyes."

"I can-"

Gatt jabbed a finger at her. "You can do nothing, except compromising everything we've worked on. I don't expect you to understand, but as long as you're in my care, you're to sit your ass down and stay out of trouble."

Mir balled her hands and stomped on the ground. "This isn't fair."

Gatt drew herself into her full height, the fire in her eyes a mirror of the girl's. "Life isn't fair. Go help Bast if you’re so desperate to help." She pushed Mir to the side and stomped away, leaving the girl to watch after her, her small body shaking with anger.

Mir turned her head and locked eyes with Sinead. Her face contorted and she skulked off, disappearing into the mine. The guards let her pass without a word.

That was odd. A rebel base wasn’t usually the best place for a young girl, even one who seemed as keen as Mir to join the fight. Sinead considered following her, when a small dot on the horizon appeared, growing larger and larger until she saw it was the Razor Crest making for the landing platform.

Wind whipped her hair around as the ship touched down, the old landing gear creaking from the weight. The Crest looked right at home between the old freighters and starfighters that looked like they had been in one dogfight too many.

The Mandalorian appeared as the ramp came down, looking cautiously at the rebels milling about.

Sinead got up from her seat and approached him, her minders trailing after. "How was everything back there?"

"Fine," he said in his usual brusque fashion. "You sure about this?" He eyed her guardians.

"We have another choice?"

Mando sighed, which had to be answer enough, as Gatt approached them with a small band of rebels trailing behind. She lifted an eyebrow as she gave the ship a quick onceover. “You’re all set?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead thrusting a datacard at Sinead, who caught it just before it fell to the ground. "Coordinates are on there. You only have so long to get through the blockade and back out before you miss your window, and then you're stuck, you got that?" She looked impatiently from Sinead to Mando.

"Got it."

"We don't know the situation on Luria, except that it's bad. Hopefully a ground-team'll meet you at the rendezvous."

"I usually like a little more certainty when risking my life," Sinead said.

"And I like not having to sneak onto my own damn planet, but it turns out that life isn’t fair.”

"You're asking us to risk our lives for a hope."

"Only thing we have in abundance. If you don't like it, you can get the hell off my moon." Gatt clearly hadn’t shaken off the effects of the argument.

Sinead bared her teeth in a smile. "If only wars could be won on hope."

"No, we need soldiers for that, ones who follows orders."

"Yes, sir."

Gatt didn't seem to appreciate Sinead's try at deference. "Right. This isn’t so complicated I need to go over it again, do I? Once you get back, I'm sure Sul-Bal will show you whatever it is you came here to find.”

Five rebels piled into the Crest, a quiet lot all dressed in dark, inconspicuous clothes and with the same sort of grim determination in their eyes. A short, stout human called Tanram was the only one who introduced himself.

Sinead left the rebels in the main room huddled together in a tight group, muttering amongst themselves and shooting furtive glances at Sinead like she was about to pounce.

She stood behind Mando as the ship left Celvalara’s atmosphere.

“He’s still sleeping,” Sinead said, looking at the child still swaddled in a blanket. Looking closely, she could see his small chest rise and fall.

“This has happened before I … I think.”

“Him sleeping for more than a day?”

“It was after … it doesn’t matter. He’ll wake up eventually.”

“If you say so.”

The ship shook as they left Celvalara's atmosphere.

Sinead sat down in the only unoccupied chair. “You don’t think we should’ve left him back at the base?”

“Hm. I don’t trust them.”

“Neither do I, but I’m sure it’s safer than an occupied planet. Gatt seems like someone who’s great with kids.”

"I thought he'd be safe on Tatooine and look what happened.” He glanced at her. "How's your head?"

Her head? Oh, right.

"It’s fine." She touched the spot where just ten hours prior she'd had a bump the size of a kaadu egg, which had vanished completely. "That stuff Peli gave me must've been stronger than I thought."

The Mandalorian hummed in response and fell quiet.

The navicomputer beeped once to let them know it had finished plotting in the route, and the ship hummed as it turned due north- insofar that there was such a thing as due north in outer space.

The blockade stretched planet wide, blinking in the murky darkness like dying stars. Many of the ships making up the blockade hadn’t been made for that purpose, most of them looked like old freighters and rusty spaceliners. Underneath, Luria’s surface swirled and twisted like a sea in stormy weather.

As they neared the spot, Mando slowed the ship to a crawl.

There was a clanging as Tanram up the ladder. “How’s everything up here?” His voice was scratchy, like he’d spent all day shouting. He stood behind Mando, watching the slowly rotating planet beneath. The glow from Luria bathed the cockpit in a soft, pink light.

"We're waiting for the signal,” Mando said.

Tanram sneered. "Fucking travesty we have to sneak into our own home like thieves."

Sinead shrugged. "Here’s to hoping you won’t have to do that for long.”

Tanram harrumphed as a way of answer. He scratched his cheek, looking around the cockpit, eyes falling on the sleeping kid. "You have a child with you?”

"He came with the ship," Sinead said, fighting the urge to pull the child into her lap.

"Right ..." he turned back to look at Luria. "Better hope it doesn't get us killed."

"Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you."

Tanram gave her a sour look.

“What’s the plan once we land?” Mando said, stopping the argument before it had time to start.

“We get down, there should be a ground team waiting for us.”

“Again, with the qualifiers,” Sinead said.

“Should is a helluva lot better than ‘no chance in hell’.” Tanram crossed his arms across his chest.

“Barely. ‘No chance in hell’ also means don’t get your hope up.”

Mando shushed them, gesturing to the blockade below them. “Look.”

Beneath them, a large freighter ship blinked three time before going completely dark. Nobody moved.

"That's it?" Sinead asked, leaning forward to get a better look. "And we're sure it won't suddenly come on-line and blast us to stardust, right?"

"Only one way to find out."

The Razor Crest came to life with a now pleasantly familiar roar and glided slowly towards Luria.

"Don't get too close to the ship," Tanram whispered. "This boat ain't invisible."

The Mandalorian's shoulders tense in irritation, but he remained silent.

The planet swelled beneath them, pink and green-hued lights dancing in the cockpit, seeming impossibly large as it filled the windscreen.

"Ten seconds 'till we reach," Mando said.

In the distance the dark ship hung lifeless in the air, and Sinead caught herself holding in her breath as they breached the barricade, her ears prickling for any sound of their detection.

They passed the darkened ship in tense silence.

"Go tell the others to get ready," Mando said, his voice terse. “Don’t wanna be there longer than necessary.

Tanram drew in a sharp breath, clearly not happy about taking orders from someone else, even if that someone was the owner of the ship, but after a second, he deflated and disappeared down the ladder.

"I wish they could all be this easy," Sinead said, sitting down at last.

“You think this was easy?”

“Relatively easy.” Sinead looked at the still sleeping kid. “Nobody has shot at us. Yet.”

"Give it time.”

Sinead huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, you're right. Can't wait to see in what new and inventive way this one explodes in our faces."

When the Razor Crest broke through the clouds, Sinead couldn’t help but gasp at the sight that unfolded underneath them; rolling grasslands broken up by dense forests stretched as far as the eye could see, deep purple and emerald green seemed to glow in the darkness. A solitary mountain broke through the earth, shining white in the starlight.

"You've ever done something like this before?"

Sinead tore her gaze away from the wonder outside. "Smuggled a band of rebels through a blockade to a planet in full lockdown? Can't say that I have."

"I mean this. The civil war."

"I'd say we're more civil war adjacent." She could feel Mando roll his eyes under his helmet. "No, I haven't. I've always done my best to stay out of … circumstances like these.” Normally, she would ask him what he did before he was a bounty hunter, but she had a feeling he wouldn't answer.

After skirting around a small settlement barely big enough to notice, they found the rendezvous, a small spot at the base of the mountain. Big boulders had been rolled away, making a small level spot in a sea of rocks.

The Crest touched down, narrowly missing being smashed to bits against the sheer rock walls.

As she got up to leave, Sinead looked down at the still sleeping kid, worry gnawing at her stomach. She touched the edge of the blanket wrapped around him and then left to join the rebels.

The ramp was down when she got off the ladder, soft starlight spilling from the opening. Outside, a rebel had fallen to her knees in the grass, whispering something in twi'leki that Sinead didn't understand, and it dawned on her that this was the first time they'd seen their home in a long time.

The four remaining rebels stood in a tight knot, their conversation dying out when Sinead and Mando descended on the ramp.

“You said someone’d be here,” Mando said, looking directly at Tanram.

“Clearly there isn’t,” the rebel said between clenched teeth, his dark eyes scanning the shadows between the boulders.

The twi'lek got up from the ground and brushed off her knees. “Erno, you told me about an old cache at the foot of the Barrow-“ she nodded towards the mountain- “Maybe they’ve left the package there.”

A human rebel, this one with grey wiry hair spilling from under his cap, rubbed his lower lip. “Hasn’t been used since I was a lad.”

“C’mon, Tan,” another rebel grabbed Tanram’s shoulder, “they’ve been compromised. We gotta get out of here before the blockade closes.”

“We don’t know that!” Said the Twi’lek.

“Really, Suri, you really wanna bet your life on that? Our lives?” The rebel turned to the twi’lek, his posture rigid.

Tanram’s lips moved silently, his unfocused eyes staring at the mountain. “We’ve come to far to turn back now. We’ll find the cache and if it’s empty then we’ll take it from there.” He turned to Sinead and Mando. “Stay here until we come back.”

"That wasn't part of the plan," Mando said.

"Plan's changed. If you leave now, without what we came here to get, you won't get within orbit of Celvalara. Got it?”

“We won’t be stuck here.”

Tanram sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll be back before that happens.”

“You better make sure of that.”

Once the last rebel disappeared between the trees, Sinead let out a deep sigh. “Maybe this really was a bad idea.”

"A little late for that don't you think?" Mando said, his shoulders tensing in irritation.

"Yeah," Sinead stretched and looked around the clearing. The white rocks reflected the starlight strangely, making it look like they were glowing from within. Scree shifted under her feet as she walked to the nearest boulder and sat down, closing her eyes. The rock felt strangely warm against her back.

Wind whistled between the cliffs, carrying with it the smell of clean and cold air.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat. Sinead waited for him to speak but when he didn’t, she snuck a glance at him through her lashes? He was looking at her, or at least in her direction.

"I already told you I'm fine."

He looked away sharply, shifting his weight from side to side. "I didn't ...” he looked at Celvalara in the distance. “I haven't thanked you for what you did. Back there. You- uh, you didn't have to risk your life like that."

"I'm sure everyone would've done the same." Images of people she'd met that most definitely wouldn't, flashed through her mind. "At least almost everyone."

"Still ... thank you."

Somewhere amidst the cliffs, there was a sharp cry from a bird.

Sinead tugged her legs to her chest. "It's not the first time I've been held at blasterpoint and it probably won't be the last. Although I usually know what it's about." She let the words hang in the air.

"It's not that simple."

“I think it is. The Guild and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. You don’t have to worry I’ll run off when your back is turned.”

“How’d you manage to piss off the Guild?”

Sinead opened her eyes fully and gave him a sardonic grin. “Let’s make a deal; you tell me how you found the child, and I’ll tell you why I’m not rotting in some palace on Sriluur.”

Mando fiddled with his gauntlet while Sinead watched him patiently. He cleared his throat and started: “An Imperial holdout based out of Navarro hired me to find and retrieve an asset.” He looked up at the cockpit where the child slept. “They wanted him dead or alive, would pay a lot to make sure that happened.”

A cold hard knot of worry formed in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the kid in the hands of people like that. Leave it to the Empire to destroy someone so innocent and defenseless.

“You didn’t leave him,” she said softly.

“No.”

“So that’s why you don’t know his name. Why didn't you tell me this before? I hate the Empire even more than I hate the Guild, and it would've been nice to know you have a bullseye on your back.”

He looked at her sharply. "You’re right, Chela.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to rid herself of the anxious feeling. "I never lied to you and I've trusted you to find my husband. That's gotta count for something."

He leaned against the ship, not looking at her. “Yeah.”

The conversation tapered off, and Sinead closer her eyes again. She didn’t like waiting around on the best of days, and here it felt like they'd ended up in a strange pocket of space where every minute felt like an hour.

“You never answered my question.”

“Question?”

“When you dealt with the Guild.”

“Oh.” Sinead grabbed a handful og pebbles and watched them fall from her palm. “I was … found out, let’s say, after I first escaped. A Trandoshan hunted me down on Toola, dragged me back to Sriluur.”

“You remember his name?”

Sinead snorted. “I didn’t really think to ask. Anyway, both the Hutts and the Empire were chomping at the bit to get a hold of me, so I guess I never stood a chance.”

Mando was quiet for a bit. “You managed to get away again.”

“Rebels attacked the Hutts right after the Trandoshan handed me over. Stroke of luck, really, otherwise I would be rotting in a shallow grave somewhere on Sriluur. I’m pretty sure they think I died in the attack, since I haven’t seen any bounty hunters for a while- except for you.”

“Whatever’s left of the Empire has other things to think about.”

“Like someone absconding with their bounty.” Sinead grinned at him.

“Hm.”

She didn’t know how long they sat in silence. A small bird landed on a boulder nearby, trilling a complicated song. Maybe the sun was about to rise.

There was a bang from behind the ship. Sinead got to her feet and grabbed her blaster in one fluid motion. “What-“

Mando held out a hand, stopping her in her tracks. He drew his own blaster and crept around the ship surprisingly silent for someone clad head to toe in metal armor.

A panel from the ship lay in the pebbles and someone was crawling out of the opening it left, wiggling through the wires like a worm. They stared as she made it out, landing on the ground with a loud thud.

Mir straightened up, pulling off an old breath mask and letting it thump to the ground. Her eyes widened when she saw Sinead and Mando stare at her.

Mando was the first to get his bearings. “Who are you?”

Mir reached behind and pulled a blaster. In a split second, Mando snatched it out of her hands.

“Hey!”

It seemed like everything suddenly went into double speed. Sinead stepped forwards. “What are you doing here?” She fought to keep her voice under control.

“None of your business,” Mir snapped, staring balefully at the Mandalorian.

“You-“ Mando stopped, breathing hard through his nose. “You’ve made it our business. Who. Are you?”

Sinead glanced at Mando while Mir flinched. “Her name is Mir, she-“

“Mirian,” she interrupted. “My name is Mirian.”

It took all Sinead’s willpower not to roll her eyes at the girl. “I saw Mirian back at the base, right after Gatt told her to stay put.”

Mirian’s eyes widened for a moment. “She can’t tell me what to do.”

“She’s the commander, telling people what to do is her job.”

The girl bit her lower lip, eyes straying to the nearest path away from the clearing.

“Don’t even think about it,” Mando growled, making her eyes swivel back to him.

“Did you really hide away in the ship? You could’ve suffocated!” The mask looked old enough to be from the Old Republic, cracked and leaking.

“So what if I did? I can take care of myself.”

Sinead ground her teeth hard enough to hear them creak, angry heat making her cheeks flush.

Mando spoke through clenched teeth. “Get in the ship.”

“No.”

He took a short step forward. “Get. In. The. Ship. And stay there.”

For one moment it looked like she was about to run, eyes flittering around for a way out, her small mouth a thin white line.

Mando took a step forward and Mirian stumbled back, her eyes flickering to the blaster still in Mando’s hand.

Sinead stepped forward, waving at Mando to stay back. “You want to be a part of this, right? All this proves is that you can’t be trusted following simple orders-“

“Jacin won’t let me do anything,” Mirian’s voice was a loud whine.

“And you’ve made sure she probably never will,” Sinead snapped.

“That’s not fair!”

“Fair’s a weather condition. Get used to it.”

Sinead paused, surprised at what came out of her mouth; it was an old Corellian saying her mother had been particularly fond of spouting whenever Sinead was being too dramatic. She’d always hated it and it didn’t look like Mirian found any value in it either.

“You can’t make me go back.”

"Don't be so sure about that," Mando growled.

"Ship,” Sinead said, hearing her mother’s voice echo back. "Now."

Mirian bared her teeth, her eyes filled with pure and unadulterated fury, but she made the smart choice and stomped toward the ship, her heavy boots echoing on the metal ramp.

“What a brat,” Sinead mumbled as she disappeared inside. “I’ll go with her, make sure she doesn’t steal the ship,” Sinead said.

Mando made a sound at the back of his throat, cocking his head at the panel lying on the ground. “I’ll … try to fix this. There are some bindings in the weapons locker.”

“I’m not going to tie her up, Mando. I got this.”

“If the other’s aren’t back soon-“

“We leave, yeah.” Sinead wasn't keen on being stuck on Luria in general but with the addition of the combative young girl, she’d rather risk getting blown to pieces by the blockade.

Mirian was nosing around the makeshift galley that Mando had somehow jury-rigged into the side of the ship. Sinead stood in the opening and cleared her throat, making Mirian whirl around. "This place is a dump."

Sinead took a deep breath, stamping down on the anger that threatened to bubble over again. "Believe it or not, you're not the first one to say that. Lucky for you, you're not gonna be here very long."

"Why do you even care about holding me here? Nobody saw me hide away, if you just-“

"I'm sure once they find out you're gone, they’re gonna put two and two together and Gatt would kill me as soon as she laid eyes on me." At the sound of the Commander’s name, Mirian looked away sharply. "I assume she’s your …?”

“Aunt.”

"Ah.”

"Just because we're family-" she spat the word like it tasted foul- "she thinks she can tell me what to do."

"That’s generally what family do.” Sinead sat on an overturned ammo crate, twisting a string between her fingers. “Where are your parents?”

Mirian's face froze and she got a blank look in her eyes. "Dead."

“Sorry."

"They died as heroes-" Mirian stalked down the length of the ship- "protecting this planet, and Jacin wants to hide me away underground."

"Sounds reasonable."

Mirian whirled around. "Shows what you know."

Shrugging, Sinead continued playing with the string. "I know that you stowed away on a dangerous mission, risking suffocating in space." She sent Mirian a look. "What were your plan once you got down here? Join up with the others and hope they wouldn't do a headcount?"

Mirian's silence was answer enough.

A tense silence fell, only broken by Mirian’s heavy footsteps whenever she got too bored of standing in one place.

From above, there came a sound of something hitting the floor, and Sinead was at the ladder before Mirian had time to react. “Don’t move,” she told the girl.

The child stood in the middle of the cockpit, looking around with sleep heavy eyes and a lost expression. His left ear was bent like he’d slept on it.

“Hey, you,” Sinead said as she scooped him up in her arms. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

The kid made a warbling sound, pressing his head to her shoulder.

Down in the main room Mirian had of course moved to the opposite side of the ship, rooting through a compartment that had been left ajar. She’d found a hydro-spanner, which she dropped as soon as Sinead’s feet hit the floor.

“You took a child with you?” She took a step closer to get a proper look at the child. “What is that?”

Sinead suffocated a deep sigh. Now she knew how Mando felt. “A baby Lannik.”

“Lannik’s aren’t green, even the kids.”

“His mother is a Twi’lek.” Sinead found some jerky in a cupboard and gave the kid a bit, who wolfed it down.

“That doesn’t make-“

Mando appeared in the opening, clear starlight behind him making him look like a silhouette. "Someone's coming."

“Shit.” Sinead left the kid on her bed. “Stay there.” She looked at Mirian. “Both of you.”

Outside, the sky was starting to lighten to the east, a merest hint of sunlight at the horizon and animals had started to wake up between the rocks. A group of birds crossed the sky in a tight formation.

Someone was moving towards them, fast, sliding on the scree covered ground.

Sinead drew her blaster and moved into the shadow of a boulder, her breath coming out in controlled bursts. She watched the Mandalorian crouch behind another boulder, his head turned towards the sound.

The Twi’lek, Suri, stumbled into the clearing, her blue skin covered in a fine layer of white dust, half carrying half dragging a rebel, a trail of blood behind them.

Sinead hurried out from behind the boulder. “What happened?”

“They found us-“ Suri gasped, clutching the wounded rebel for dear life.

“It was an ambush,” the rebel said between clenched teeth. “Tanram told us to run. Get out of here.”

“They followed you?” Mando scanned the way they’d come.

“We lost them, but-” Suri took a deep breath- “if they find the blood, it’ll lead them right to us.”

The wounded rebel pulled himself out of Suri’s grip and leaned against a boulder, grimacing as his leg was jostled. “Their comm’s don’t work here. The rocks-“ he tried to put weight on his leg and nearly crumbled to the ground- “makes too much interference.”

Mando growled, a deep rumbling sound from his chest. “I’ll deal with this. Get ready to leave when I get back.”

“Take ‘em out quietly, if you can.” The wounded rebel waved Suri away as she tried to help him up. “Noise attracts too much attention.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sinead said as the rebels helped each other back to the ship.

“You need to go back and protect the kid.”

“It’ll be faster if we’re two, and we can’t risk any of them getting away, sounding the alarm.” Sinead drew her blaster again, checking it was ready. “C’mon.”

They moved silently through the rocky landscape, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid the piles of scree covering the ground. The white rocks made it look like everything was covered in a fine layer of snow, making Sinead feel like she was back on Toola and she repressed a shiver as the old blaster-wound twinged. She pressed a hand to the nearest rock, feeling the gentle warmth it emitted.

Mando held up a closed fist, and Sinead stopped in her tracks. Voices moved between the rocks like a ghostly echo.

Three men moved between the boulders, not taking particular care in being quiet, their feet slipping on the ground. The man in the front, a big Twi’lek with teeth filed to such a point that it was a wonder he hadn’t punctured his lips, yelled to the others to keep up. They walked in a loose formation, covering as much ground as possible.

Sinead and Mando watched them from higher up, hidden in a shadow. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’ll circle around, take out the guy furthest down. Wait for my signal, then take out the human.”

“What about the big guy?”

“I’ll deal with him. Just do it quietly.”

Sinead swore as Mando slipped away, seemingly fading into the shadows before her eyes. She didn’t like hand-to-hand combat, preferring to keep within blaster range of whoever needed killing.

Her target was coming closer. He held a rifle to his chest, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, and Sinead watched as he took one, two, three steps and stopped to look around. One, two, three, stop, look around.

Down the incline, the man furthest down had stopped to check his rifle. As he stood there looking down, Mando materialized out of the shadow like a specter, moving close to the ground, ready to strike. He grabbed the man by the throat, pulling him backwards until it looked like his back was about to break before twisting his head and finally pulling him out of sight.

A small avalanche of pebbles slid from where the man used to be.

The two remaining men turned around.

“Yekk!” The Twi’lek shouted, echo throwing the word back and forth. “Where are you?” He started towards the place, lifting his rifle. “Quit fucking around.”

Mando appeared beside him, slamming a heavily armored hand down on the Twi’lek’s arm, making the rifle fly through the air. Mando ducked under a fist the size of a grav-ball, stepping around the Twi’lek now slipping on the scree, bringing down a foot on the back of his knee, sending him to the ground.

The human fumbled with his rifle, trying to raise it, when Sinead slammed into his back, bearing down on him with all her weight. She pulled pack his hair and drew her blade across his throat, feeling hot blood cover her hand.

He sputtered once, grabbing at his throat before finally going limp.

Mando let go of the Twi’lek, who fell lifeless to the ground, large dark eyes staring unseeing into the sky.

“Not bad,” Sinead said, wiping her hand on the fallen man’s jacket.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mando said, not sparing a glance at the dead men.

They hurried back to the ship. While they walked, Sinead couldn’t help but watch Mando move through the uneven terrain. While he wasn’t uncoordinated in any sense of the word, back there he’d moved like a snake in the grass, striking quickly and brutally, not giving them a chance to react before it was too late.

Suri was cleaning the other rebel’s wounds when Mando and Sinead came up the ramp.

“You handled it?” The rebel asked between clenched teeth.

“Yeah,” Sinead said, while Mando went to the bunk to the child who watched everything unfold in solemn silence. “What about the others?”

“Tanram said to take off without them.”

“How’ll they get off planet?”

“I’m more concerned about us getting off planet,” said Suri, winching as she stretched her right arm. “If we’re still here when the blockade ship regains power …”

"Yeah, we know," Mando said.

Sinead had just pressed the button to close the ramp when she faltered and turned around. "Where's Mirian?"

The rebels froze. "What? Mirian is here?"

"She stowed away on the ship,” Sinead said, her voice sounding like it came from far off. She stumbled to the ladder and poked her head into the empty cockpit. "She's not here."

"Me-nesh," Suri swore and slammed her fist down on the floor. The wounded rebel hid his face in his hands. "We have to find her."

The Mandalorian sat the child back down on the bunk, his movements carefully restrained. “She knows this place?” His voice shook with barely concealed anger.

"I-I don't know."

"You know where she would go?"

Suri shrugged hopelessly. "I’ve no idea. I’ve only seen her on the base.”

Mando rounded on the wounded rebel. "Can you still fight?"

The rebel fought up into standing position, waving Suri away when she tried helping. “Give me a blaster and I’ll give ‘em hell.”

"Watch the kid," Mando said. "We'll go look for her."

Outside, the dawn was still only a hint of color in the east. Sinead turned around on her heels, trying to spot a clue to where Mirian might have run off to.

“I’ll head up the mountain,” Suri said. “See if I can spot her. Down east is the settlement we passed; she might have gone that way.” She pulled her lekku, looking worried at the sky. “Don’t get caught.”

“Likewise, right? Be careful.”

“Don’t call her name, the Collective might still be around.”

Sinead checked that her blaster was still safely holstered, and she and Mando set out on the narrow path that led south, towards the slowly rising sun.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din x oc #din djarin x oc #fanfiction #ends of the earth #oc: sinead

2 notes · View notes

purelypeaky · 5 years

Text

Then and Now

You didn’t know what to think when your childhood friend Henry Johnson disappeared. On a business trip to Birmingham with your father a few years later, you run into him again and reminisce about the past in more ways than one.

Michael Gray x reader

Warnings: lots of fluff, things get a little hot and heavy

Masterlist

(gif credit to the glorious @peakyblindersgifs)

You couldn’t believe it when he walked in.

Trying to pass time in the waiting area of Shelby Company Limited was boring you to death. Your father had stepped back into Tommy Shelby’s office, leaving you to watch the secretary tap away at her typewriter. You sighed and were letting your mind wander when the door pushed open and a young man strode over to the secretary’s desk.

You recognized him immediately. Henry was your closest childhood friend, your teenage partner in crime, and eventually your first kiss. Of everyone in your hometown, you were the most baffled when he left. But there he was, just a few feet away and already leaving you breathless.

“Henry?” you said hesitantly, standing up and smoothing out your dress.

He turned, his brows knitted with confusion that disappeared as soon as he saw you. “Y\N, is that you?”

Dropping his papers on the desk, he immediately crossed the room and crushed you into a hug. You loved having him in your arms again and how tightly he held on, as if trying to make up for the few years gone by. When you pulled back again his hands slid to your waist and you stayed there, gazing at each other a moment too long. His green eyes were as bright as you remembered. Finally you both snapped out of it and Henry cleared his throat, though the smile never left his lips.

“I can’t believe it’s you, Y\N. What are you doing here?”

“My father’s going into business with Tommy Shelby and he let me tag along. I’d never been to Birmingham before. It has...quite the scenery,” you said with a grimace, making both of you laugh. “But what are you doing here, Henry? Do you work for the company?”

“It’s actually Michael now,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Michael?”

He took your hand like he’d done hundreds of times before, ready to lead you on another adventure. “C’mon, I’ll explain.”

Before you could make it to the door leading to the offices, the secretary piped up. “Michael, Tommy wanted you to --”

“It’s alright, Lizzie. Tell Tommy I’m in a meeting, too.” He gave a mischievous grin that you knew well and squeezed your hand for emphasis.

He pulled you down the hallway of offices and came to a stop in front of one that was right outside of Tommy Shelby’s. You barely heard your father’s muffled voice because you were more focused on the door that read Michael Gray, Chief Accountant.

“Michael...” you mulled, then raised an eyebrow at the man beside you. “Am I just supposed to call you Michael now?”

“I think so, yeah.”

You gave a sly grin. “I don’t hate it.”

Michael nodded proudly and led you into the office, where you were in awe of the lavish furnishings. But before you could explore the all of the knicknacks and picture frames, he made you sit down and let him explain everything that had happened. Tommy visiting, finding out about his real family, running away to Birmingham and becoming part of the family business, all of it.

You listened intently, trying to keep an open mind, but by the end your heart was as heavy as when he first left. You looked down at your lap and tried to find the right words but none came. Only when Michael took your hand in both of his did you meet his gaze again.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he murmured, swirling his thumb on your skin, “but I needed to be here. Doing this with my family.”

You nodded earnestly. “I know. I know you hated it there, Henr...Michael. You always dreamed of getting out. And here you are,” you added, waving a hand at the room.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, here I am. You want to look around now?”

You both stood up at the same time and found yourselves a little too close together. After nearly bumping noses, you laughed it off and stepped back. Michael walked around to sit at his desk and you finally noticed how his suits were sharper, he carried himself a little taller, and he looked like he belonged behind that desk. Your Henry that climbed trees and played muddy games of football with the other little boys was gone.

He was grown now.

You shook your head and turned to survey the rest of the room in all its glory. Stacks of papers and certificates were held down by paperweights, pens were discarded next to a teapot, and you ran your fingertips along the spines of all the old and new books on the shelves. A few framed photographs depicted his cousin’s wedding party and the woman he’d pointed out as his real mother. You took it all in with a gentle smile.

Then an intricate ceramic box on one of the shelves caught your eye and you looked at Michael for permission.

He was watching you amusedly. “Go on.”

It was heavier than you expected but you held it tightly, opening it to find tiny flowers painted on the inside. The flowers and leaves reminded you of gardens back home and you wondered if Michael kept it for that reason.

“It’s beautiful.”

He smiled and pulled out a cigarette. “A little old lady gave that to me because I convinced Tommy to not burn down her son’s pub. Bad for business, you know.”

After safely returning the box to its spot you set your sights back on Michael with a smirk. You crossed the room to his side of the desk and hoisted yourself up, just out of reach of his crossed legs.

“Listen to you, ‘bad for business’,” you giggled. Then you plucked the cigarette from his mouth and took a drag. “You smoke these now?”

“Sometimes. Do you?”

When stifling your cough didn’t work, you just put out the cig in the ashtray. “Sometimes.”

That had both of you laughing again and then you trailed off when you looked out of the office window into the foggy Birmingham sky. It was quiet for a moment too long while you worked up the courage for your next question.

“Do you ever miss home?”

Michael lifted his eyes to to find you still looking away. “I think about you sometimes.”

Your heart bottomed out and you wrung your hands in your lap but couldn’t meet his gaze. It would give you too much hope. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” He stood up and rounded in front of you, waiting with a gentle smile until you looked at him. “We had a lot of fun when we were kids. I didn’t know any other girl who could drive her mother as crazy as I did mine. And when we were older...”

He trailed off, unsure of breaching the subject. But you encouraged him by resting a hand on his chest and he leaned into your touch, stepping closer until he was between your legs. He glanced around your face as if trying to re-memorize every inch and let his fingers brush your cheek. Your breath caught at his close proximity and your gaze unconsciously dipped to his lips when he spoke again.

“Well, things weren’t so bad when we were older, either. That’s what I remember most.”

That was all the prompting either of you needed and you met in the middle for a tentative kiss. It was a gentle test of the waters and Michael rested his forehead to yours in the wake, but only for a moment. The water was just fine and both of you dove in.

His open mouth slid against yours passionately and your arms wrapped around to seal his body to you. All of the tension and uncertainty melted away at his touch and you let yourself get lost in the moment and in the feel of Michael’s hands smoothing down your sides. You flashed back to the few other times he’d kissed you but this was the best yet, proven by his strong mouth capturing yours again and again. He even chased your lips when you tried to break the kiss, stealing one more before he let you speak.

You played with the hair at the nape of his neck, still panting. “Can they see us through the glass?”

“Do you care?” Michael countered with a smirk. There was that reckless streak you missed.

Clasping your hands, he tugged you with him until he sat in his chair and you straddled his lap. Your chest flushed with heat at the precarious position but you loved having Michael under you again and could feel him already growing hard. His grip settled at your waist and he watched you hungrily, sending that heat from your chest rushing down to your core.

His mouth was on you again in a flash, kissing you like no time was lost between now and your younger days in the countryside. It was playful and eager and he toyed with your tongue to make you laugh and god you’d missed smiling into him. Your hands raked from his hair to his shoulders, anything to pull him impossibly closer.

You had just started fumbling with his waistcoat buttons when a door slammed down the hall. After leaping off of Michael’s lap, both of you stared at his office door with baited breath. But nobody came.

“That was close,” you whispered childishly.

“Couldn’t have your father finding us again, hm?”

The two of you shared a smile and started fixing your disheveled appearances. You tugged your dress back into place and watched as Michael straightened out his suit. He cocked his head at you when he caught you staring.

“Do you like it?” He made a show of fiddling with his cufflinks.

“I really do.”

He noticed your change in tone and nearly melted under your heavy-lidded gaze. You wanted to tell him exactly how you’d let him take off each layer of his clothes and yours, but voices from down the hall dragged you back to reality once again.

Michael sighed. “We should probably get back to them.”

You nodded and let him open the door before sauntering past, relishing in how he nearly groaned just watching your hips swing. Just like good old days. But you were only a few steps down the hall when he caught your hand and turned you toward him.

“How long are you in town?” he asked earnestly.

“Two days. Then it’s back home.” You smiled sadly, cupping his cheek. “But we’re staying in a hotel up the road. Maybe we could go out tonight? You could show me all of Birmingham.”

With a kiss and a squeeze to your hand, he promised just that. Then the two of you continued down the hall walking a few paces apart so that no one would suspect anything. You found your father and Tommy Shelby still talking out front.

“Ah, Y\N, the secretary told me you were acquainting yourself with Mr. Shelby’s accountant,” your father called, waving you over to him.

“You remember Henry?” you answered, linking your arm with Michael’s. “It’s a long story, but he’s working for Mr. Shelby now.”

Michael shook your father’s hand and they began chatting. You noticed Tommy Shelby watching you curiously and he pulled out a cigarette just like Michael had earlier. Apparently he really was related to the Shelbys.

Tommy stepped closer to speak to you, nonchalantly puffing smoke into the wind. “I hear from Lizzie that you reacquainted yourself with Michael rather well, Miss Y\L\N. She takes advantage of the thin office walls.”

Your eyes blew wide and you tried to stumble around an answer. “Mr. Shelby, sir, I don’t know --”

“Don’t worry, that’s no business of mine. What is my business is giving Michael the day off tomorrow.”

At that moment Michael glanced at you with a smile before turning back to the conversation with your father. Your heart swelled and you nodded resolutely.

“That would be lovely, Mr. Shelby. Thank you.”

#peaky blinders #michael gray #michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #not sorry for using the cig trope again #i just really like it #also tommy is 100% on the Get Michael A Fuck Buddy train

152 notes · View notes

beanarie · 5 years

Text

past & pending 3, chapter 2

Welcome to the McGraw-Hamilton Bed and Breakfast, where no one ever calls ahead for reservations. the rest of the series (post-finale, everyone’s in love) is here, the previous chapter, where--spoiler alert!--thomas and flint just learned that madi has a girlfriend, is here

“We thought her distress was over you,” Thomas confides.

Silver’s smile is bitter and, frankly, more than slightly annoying. “Oh, it’s never about me.”

Thomas frowns at the trees. He loses all patience in the face of self pity. Despite not being well acquainted with Madi, he knows James is of the belief that she loves Silver, or, rather, that she did at one time. The rest, as they have well established, was his own fault.

“Allow me an uncomfortable question?”

A heavy silence follows. “Go on,” Silver says.

“Is there anything tying you to her, save penance, and, of course, the dogged hope of eventual absolution and a return to how things were?” Silver’s wide eyes are a response. They are not, however, an answer. “I ask in all sincerity. Confirmation that you are not consumed with flagellating yourself every time you leave here would be appreciated, especially given the ready alternative.”

Someone should lance this boil, incontrovertibly disabuse Silver of the notion that existing as someone’s sun, moon, and stars is the only way to be happy. The awareness of his own position prevents Thomas from making the attempt. He would offer the corpses James created in his name if he could. Being an ignoble villain himself, Silver would appreciate them more.

The house now in sight, Seydou takes off at a run, little Felix at his heels. Thomas runs a thumb across the patchy stubble on Silver’s jaw. “I miss the beard,” he says longingly, trying to impart the fondness that threatens to overtake him with tone and context rather than explicit words. “Refrain from shaving for the rest of your stay, hm? Consider it payment for the room and board.”

Thomas takes a step forward, but Silver’s fingers wrap around his upper arm, keeping him from taking another. He noses the back of Thomas’s neck and breathes in deeply. Well. Fuck subtle. Before Silver can disengage, Thomas spins on his heel. Silver’s mouth lets out a quiet huff of surprise before Thomas claims it for his own.

“The boys?” Thomas whispers urgently.

Silver’s wild eyes stray from his for mere seconds. “Inside.”

"Understand,” Thomas says, pressing a kiss to Silver’s throat. Yes, unsurprisingly, the man could do with a wash. That’s fine. “It is not that I lack the ability to control myself. I merely see no point in doing so."

The eyes he raises his head to see ask a very clear question. Why? “You know, I used to hear stories on the plantation. We weren’t permitted news of the outside world but I-“

“You had your ways”

“I did.” He tugs the hem of Silver’s shirt free of his trousers. Silver does the same to his. “I knew of Captain Flint, scourge of the new world, years before I knew it was my James they spoke of.”

“It wasn’t wholly outside the realm of plausibility. James, James can be terrifying. Did you know he took me to a hanging on our first outing together?”

“But what of Long John Silver, the only man he was said to fear?” “Many an hour I whiled away forming an image of you in my mind.”

Despite how far they’ve gone already, Silver’s expression is shuttered, like he doesn’t dare to accept what is on offer. “You talk too much.”

“And most days you spend too much time in the brambles of this mind to provide any semblance of worthwhile conversation. Will that be changing? We are all reasonably certain at this point James will not draw and quarter you for your transgressions.”

“That... was never a concern.”

He pulls a few of the hairs in the path from Silver’s stomach to his groin, causing a yelp Thomas will remember for quite a few nights to come. “Do not lie to me, John Silver. I’ve a keen mind and I have suffered. I could plot retribution the likes of which you could never conceive.”

He uses his thumb to breach the waistband of Silver’s trousers and press into the muscle underneath the sharp jut of hipbone. The body under his hands shivers. "Were it not for the myriad complications present at the moment, I would have you, right here, just like this. What say you to that?"

A slight laugh, a thin sliver of a cheeky grin. "What complications?"

“Villain.” Thomas smiles against Silver’s lips and swallows whatever response he would have gotten. This, at least, they can do without consulting a committee.

The bedroom door swings open at the same time as Thomas pokes his head in to say, "Oh, excellent. You're here. Come, villain. We have our quorum. We'll get our resolution and everyone will be much happier for it."

James nearly drops the shirt he's holding at the sound of that word coming out of Thomas's mouth, but then Silver hobbles in close behind, grumbling good-naturedly. "Is that to be my name now?"

Unruffled, Thomas smiles like he owns a secret. "Tell me it bothers you and I'll stop forever."

A very pointed silence reigns for a long moment. James ignores them until the spare clothes to donate to their guests are in a neatly folded stack. "You had some sort of agenda," he prompts.

"Surely you can guess," Thomas says.

James turns to address them. "Of course I could. But Silver is changing color and I'd to see how much closer to red he can get."

Thomas laughs and sits on the bed, jostling the stack of clothing but not tipping it over. Silver screws up his face in a futile effort to change his current complexion. "Fuck you both."

"There it is." Thomas winds an arm around James's waist. "Would you prefer a statement with fewer words?"

Allowing Thomas to get closer does not mean James agrees. "You've both had too much time in the sun and not enough water. His wife is a guest in our home."

"Not my wife." Silver looks down at his foot. "That- that was only ever an idea. A hope. And now we are... friends. Maybe, if I'm being generous. Anyway, she gave me her explicit blessing."

James looks at Thomas, who looks back at him, equally silently.

Silver sighs, drumming his fingers on his crutch. "You may have noticed she has taken up with a woman."

"So taking this step." James gestures to take in the three of them. "Now, under these conditions, would be your retribution?"

"What? No. We spoke candidly on what occurred during my months-long absence from her."

"You confessed everything?" James asks. So far Thomas has kept his opinions to himself. It will be interesting to see how long he is content to observe before deciding James and Silver cannot work this out between the two of them.

"She wanted to know what purpose I served here for so long," Silver says, meaning no, he did not inform her about his illness. "How you were able to allow me to linger after all that I had done, to you both. And I..." He lifts his chin, resolute. "I told her I love you."

Abandoning Thomas and the stack of clothes on the bed, James approaches a noticeably unmoving Silver. He leans in, gaze fixed on Silver's mouth. "Is that what you told her?" he says. He lays a hand on Silver's neck, his thumb sweeping over the point of his pulse.

Silver hums, flush still high on his cheeks. "It's the truth." He slumps forward slightly into James's touch. This happens every time. Touch Silver with even a hint of affection and he goes pliant and greedy like one of his barn cats.

James grins as he traces the underside of Silver's bottom lip. "That explains why you wanted to stay, not why we let you."

"Feel free to elaborate," Silver says. "I've already gotten Thomas's side of things."

From the other side of the room, Thomas laughs in a way that people who aren't James don't get to hear.

Good thing the chores are done for the morning and no one inside this room is responsible for preparing the next meal. All they have to do for the next few hours is work up an appetite.

The entertainment at midday consists of the younger boys bragging about their contributions to the repast.

"I'm just proud you didn't push each other into the water," Obi says. "I fully expected at least one of you to return soaking wet."

Madi, seated as far from Esther as their circumstances allow, lets her gaze flick toward each of the white men in a knowing matter. Being who she is, she's quite subtle, but James sees. She says, however, nothing, apparently content to help Khanyi pick out the stray bones left in her fish.

Possibly he is being paranoid.

~ Old remembered terrors force Flint out of a sound sleep, heart hammering, thundering, and eyes completely incapable of recognizing his surroundings. It’s too dark, it’s too dark. There are enemies about and he can’t remember who was assigned lookout.

“James,” says a voice that doesn't belong.

“Love."

"It’s all right."

"You're home safe."

"Everything is fine.”

A melody sinks into the bits of silence. Humming. Flint latches on, his breath coming easier, and he lays his head back down.

His traitorous mind refuses to rest, linking the tune to something he used to hear on piano. He thinks of Miranda, walking off to leave him in bed struggling with his ghosts, until the strains of her playing from another room remind him where he is. He thinks of her dry fingertips against his cheek as he would finally drift off to proper sleep. That tiny pull of a smile on one side of her face that signaled the end of an argument. The quizzical rosebud of her mouth when she read something she found deeply fascinating.

No one is touching him, but James can feel body heat creeping in on all sides and he can’t handle it. Reality is both too much and not enough. “Shut up,” he says, rubbing at his eyes, willing his mind to stop reeling. “Both of you.”

Silver rolls onto his side as though he's been out this whole time. James runs a hand lightly down Silver's back, and rises from the bed.

So many people between these walls. She should be here, too. She deserves to be here.

He can feel at least one pair of eyes following his progress, so he says, "We need firewood. And well water."

"Let him go be productive," Thomas orders Silver, just loud enough for his voice to carry. "I fucking abhor chopping firewood."

#black sails #black sails fic #silverflinthamilton #past and pending #my writing #things by beanarie

15 notes · View notes

loversandantiheroes · 5 years

Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Lyrium Withdrawal, Lyrium Addiction, Mild Gore, Hurt/Comfort, first comes the hurt, then comes the comfort, I swear there will be comfort, Cuddling and Snuggling, see I said there’d be comfort

Took an age and a half, but the update has finally landed. Welcome to the morning after.

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

Cullen slept steadily, if not quite soundly, the rest of the night. Each time he stirred or muttered something in his sleep Aadhlei came awake with a guilty start, afraid to find his fever roaring back to life or to find his heartbeat fallen suddenly still while she slept. Her fears proved unfounded each time, and she lay there watching him sleep in the dying candlelight, trying to calm her own foolish panic enough to drift off again.

He still spoke in his sleep, vague mutterings that followed the strange courses of his dreams. Once he muttered her name, a soft, strangled sound of distress caught in his throat. “Right here,” she whispered, pressing in a little closer. His tension broke with a soft sigh of relief, hands sliding up her back to grip her shoulders and pull her in until her head lay against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, his breathing - a sound like distant waves and a deep, steady drum. It soothed her, lulling almost at once back to sleep.

Aadhlei woke when the first morning bell rang out, more than a little dazed, and found her arms empty. Faint light filtered in from the window above and she could see Cullen in the corner in front of the washbasin by candlelight, finishing the last of his shave with a wooden-handled straight razor. He was still stripped to the waist but he had pulled on clean trousers, his hair a damp mess of mussed curls. A thin line of gold glinted around his wrist and Aadhlei could just make out the shape of a tiny golden leaf against his skin.

“Morning,” he said, laying aside the razor and toweling off his face. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Hm. The bell, not you,” she muttered, rubbing at her eyes.

He crossed to her quickly, kissing her before she could even push herself up off the bed.

“How do you feel?” she asked, running her hand across his face. A smell of faint soap and liniment hung on him. But she saw with no shortage of relief that the dark crescents beneath his eyes were fading, and there was color again in his cheeks. A little worn still, perhaps, but no longer dire.

“Better, thanks to you.”

Aadhlei waved that away, a practiced deflection as she pushed herself up. “You did the hard part, Cullen,” she said, a rough truth masquerading as modesty. “All I did was make tea.”

Cullen shifted with her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You stayed,” he said, a little wonder in his voice again. “That’s more than I would’ve ever hoped for. I’ve never told anyone what happened at the Ferelden Circle. I was afraid to let you see that. Any of it. I didn’t...I did not expect you to stay once you knew that side of me. No matter how much distance I’ve tried to put between my past and myself. I did not dare hope that you cared for me enough to stand it.”

“You underestimate how stubborn I am in my affection, Cullen Rutherford,” she said. “And you are a far better person than you give yourself credit for.”

A slight, rueful shake of his head. “I know who I am.”

She caught his hand, squeezing. “So do I. And I am quite fond of who you are. Nothing you’ve said or done has changed that.”

“That is more a relief than I can tell you.” He took a deep, steadying breath, and met her eyes. “I cannot change the past. But it led me here. To the Inquisition. To you. I can make that mean something. I will. ”

And suddenly he was all warmth; his expression, the color of his hair, the tone of his skin, the shaded amber of his eyes. All of that trained solely on her was so much she nearly felt faint with it. His hands, broad and calloused and hard, came up to trace the sides of her face with astonishing gentleness. The second before his mouth opened she remembered the promise he had made the night before, and her heart gave a sudden tripping stumble.

“I love you.”

There it was. He spoke with marvelous ease, no catch of fear or nervous confession. He knew she knew it already. He only wanted to say it. The words themselves were somehow soft. Sweetness without sting; a rose without thorn.

Tears sprang to her eyes immediately, spilling down her cheeks and over his thumbs. She drew in a breath, a touch too sharp and tremulous, and she saw the smile on Cullen’s face begin to falter.

“Don’t you apologize, and don’t take it back. Don’t you dare,” she hissed, clutching at him fiercely.

“Never,” he sighed, gathering her up. She felt his hands on her back, thumbs rubbing circles along her spine. “I love you,” he said again, a rumble in her ear that made her breath hitch.

Slowly, Aadhlei kissed her way up the side of Cullen’s neck, over the smoothness of his jaw to his mouth. “I love you, too,” she said, the words catching awkwardly in her throat.

A smile broke across his face, bright enough to hurt, and the thought raced across her mind, Sunlight, Maker he’s like sunlight.

Everything seemed to settle then. A gentle shift, some part of her that had always seemed misaligned finally finding a place where it fit. And now finally allowing herself to see it, to feel it without the constant fog of doubt clouding her head, she realized how neatly they did fit together, how comfortably. Something in her chest seemed to be expanding, as if finally allowing the words to be spoken had let them take root, and in so doing a garden had set to blooming in her ribs. Joy, she realized. Another word she could put a feeling to at last. Love and joy, Creators, that was a wonder.

She was laughing dizzily into his mouth and he was still kissing her. Was it this way for him as well? Her hands swept his face and came away damp with tears, and she thought it must be so after all.

“Maker, you are…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Why wouldn’t you let me say it before?”

Aadhlei felt the smile on her face falter and fall, felt Cullen’s hands tracing the lines of hurt that took its place. “Not important,” she said, dragging the smile back with a shake of her head.

Cullen’s eyes searched her face, suddenly gravely serious. “No. Don’t do that. It is important. I’ll not have you shoulder my burdens and not let me help you carry yours as well.” He kissed her again, gentle and warm like a promise. “Talk to me. Whatever it is, I will listen. I would have all of you, as well,” he whispered, giving her own words back to her.

And there were the tears again, a hot pressure behind her eyes as her nose filled with the ghost of rosemary. She trailed her fingers down his hand to his wrist where her necklace sat and wrapped her fingers around it.

“Last night was not my first vigil at a sickbed,” she said. The words came slowly, dug up like old bones unearthed from the place she’d buried them. “The last one was my foster-mother. And she did not survive.”

“Maker. I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She smiled thinly, shrugging. “Not the sort of thing that comes up in polite conversation. And it is...hard to speak of. She was old, and she was ill. And I was stubborn and foolish, much as I am now, so I tried to heal her.” Aadhlei shook her head. “I had gone with her more than once to help ease a passing. I knew what it looked like when a body was too old and worn to hope for recovery. When all that’s left is to give what comfort can be afforded. I suppose that’s what scared me the most. I knew she was dying, and I knew I could do nothing to stop it. So of course I did anyway.”

A laugh escaped her, dry and mirthless, and she sagged a little, pulling away. Cullen’s hands trailed across her back and down her arms to her hands, folding them up in his own. She squeezed them gratefully.

“I cannot explain to you what it’s like. To cast until you are drained. Past a point of weakness and exhaustion and to keep pulling it through you, pouring it out. The harder you pull, the more you feel it. It’s like your armor wears through and suddenly you have raw magic tearing across your nerves. Trying to close the Breach the first time was like that. Maker, it hurts. All the way down to your bones. But I did it. I wrung myself dry trying to fix her, and I collapsed. When I woke, she was...she had already...I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

She was crying properly now, face twisting as she finally came to the point that had speared her so soundly. All at once her heart felt treacherously heavy and unmoored, as if it might simply tumble overburdened from her chest. “I couldn’t say it, Cullen. Last night, void take me, I couldn’t. I was too scared for you. If I told you and then you never woke up-”

If he spoke then, Aadhlei heard nothing. She only felt his hands pull her close, clutching her to him, and the press of his lips against hers. “I’m here,” he said, brushing away more tears. “I’m well.”

“Thank Maker and Creators both for it,” she said. “Stay that way. That’s an order.”

Cullen laughed a little, rough and wavering. “As you say.”

He shifted forward and past her, groping one-handed at a drawer on his bedside table. He muttered quietly in frustration, searching blindly, then gave a small exclamatory sigh against her shoulder.

“I had intended to take you somewhere for this, but events seem to be sprinting at us a good deal faster than I expected. There is a lake not far from Honnleath, where I grew up. As a child, whenever my siblings became a bit too much to bear I would go there for a bit of peace. The last time I went there was the day before I left for Templar training. My brother, Branson, he found me there. He gave me this.”

Cullen opened his hand. In the center of his palm lay a silver coin stamped with the solemn face of Andraste. “It just happened to be in his pocket, but he told me it was for luck. I’ve carried it with me since. Templars are not supposed to hold to such things. Our faith should see us through.” The word ‘faith’ was sharp on his tongue, a word tested until it had splintered.

“I would not have pegged you for a rule breaker so young,” Aadhlei said, a smile slowly returning to her face.

“Until recently I was quite good at following rules. Most of the time, anyway. This was the only thing I took from Ferelden that the Templars didn’t give me.” He folded it into her hand. “Humor me a little. There is so much I have survived that I should not have. I would not have called that good luck until now. We do not know what you will face before the end, and with Adamant….” He sighed sharply. “A little luck can’t hurt. Besides, I cannot take something from you without giving something back,” he added, gesturing to where her necklace lay against this wrist.

Aadhlei turned the coin between her fingers. “You’re more a romantic than you think, Cullen Rutherford,” she said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Cullen’s expression shifted, a thought occurring to him suddenly, and he sighed. “There will be talk. You were here all night. You told the guards... Maker.”

“Does that bother you?”

“If you had asked me yesterday morning...last night changed many things,” he added softly. Cullen fell silent a moment, considering, then slowly shook his head. “No, not anymore. I would still rather my- our private life stay private, but there is little I can do about that in a place such as this.”

He looked up at her sharply. “Does it bother you? There has been talk about us for some time, but this will be...I did not intend to...I don’t think I was thinking very clearly when I asked you to stay.” He colored brilliantly, stammering. “Not that I regret it! I’m glad that you did, I only-” She laughed, shaking her head. “Cullen I meant to stay regardless. I told you that.”

“There will be assumptions. My thoughts about you might not always have been honorable, but my intentions …”

Aadhlei raised a curious eyebrow.

The flush across his cheeks deepened and he dropped his head to her shoulder. “I...sweet Maker.”

She laughed and kissed the top of his head. “You’ll have to tell me about those dishonorable thoughts sometime.”

“Andraste preserve me,” he whispered, “you are still in my bed.”

“So I am. Would you have me leave?”

Gooseflesh rippled up her arms as he nuzzled into the curve of her neck. He kissed her there, a brief press of his lips, and her eyes fluttered shut against it, the sensation far more overwhelming than it had any right to be. “No,” he murmured. “But I don’t know...if…if you-”

Outside the bell rang out again and Cullen all but jumped out of his skin.

“Maker, I’m going to be late. Inspections. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I have to,” he stammered, pulling away with great reluctance and scrabbling to pull on his gear.

“I need to clean up,” Aadhlei said as he shrugged on his mantle, gesturing at the table still laden with her unpacked kit. “Go on, I’ll find you later.”

“You’d better,” he said, stooping for a hurried kiss.

“I love you, ” she said as they parted.

He slowed, that warm, flustered smile on his face again. “I love you, too,” he said, and kissed her again. It was enough to make her toes curl, and Aadhlei tapped her fingers insistently on his breastplate.

“Mmm, greedy!” she chided, a little too breathlessly. Maker, if they didn’t stop they were never going to leave the damned room. “Go!”

He smirked at her, actually smirked, the first time she’d seen that look outside of the practice yard or a chess game, and it sent a pleasant shiver through her. As he made off down the stairs his face settled into a smile, a proper one, and Aadhlei felt her heart lighten a little more.

The guards marked her as she left Cullen’s office. The slightest double-take before clapping their fists to their breastplates in salute. As she walked away she heard one of them whisper to the other, “I told you. You owe me five royals.”

Muttering a handful of prayers, she hurried her step, holding her head as high as she dared. Sweet Maker, the war council was going to be a living nightmare.

#da:i fanfic #cullen rutherford #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #f!inquisitor #f!lavellan #oc: aadhlei #should've had this up ages ago I am so sorry

6 notes · View notes

imoutofpracticeyall · 7 years

Text

Halloween Plans

Dadsona is excited about Halloween as always, until there’s a hitch in his plans. Dadsona/Joseph. Dadsona POV. SFW

Halloween was always an excitable holiday for you, especially this year, what with the new neighbours to compete with, you had so long since outdone everyone at your old neighbourhood and was known as the ‘it’ house to be trick or treating at for years. In fact, in the weeks building up to the holiday you’d been testing the waters by bringing out your decorations bit by bit, day by day. You thought you were winning for a good while, until Damien decorated his house and well there was no competing that, you guessed you’d have to settle for joint second with Brian.

However, most of your Halloween gusto had been punched out of you when you received the phone call that Amanda wouldn’t be able to come home for it. You tried not to sound disappointed or outright cry upon realising this would be your first Halloween without her because, well, you were expecting it. She was swamped with coursework and (even though she didn’t say it) she’d want to go a student party with her friends. Still, you couldn’t stop it from hurting.

At least you wouldn’t be alone, you thought to yourself. You did have the Christiansen’s (A very recent extension to your family) one of which you could see making his way over to you at present. Pretending not to notice Joseph’s approach, you continued to pop little plastic pumpkins and skulls over fairy lights hanging from your window.

His hands caught your shirt at the waist, swiftly drawing you against himself, your back pressing against his chest, he actually booed at you. You feigned a yelp of surprise and swatted at his arms that were secured around your middle, the heat in your cheeks, however, was honest. In the commotion of all this, you’d dropped your bag of pumpkins and skulls. “Joseph! This is literally the third time!”

He only laughed and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “If you hated it, you’d stop pretending not to see me.”

Damn. He’d caught on to you. “Well, I am not picking those up.” You said, defiantly, hoping it’d be enough to change the subject.

Releasing you from his grip he took the bag you’d been holding and gathered up the light covers whilst you watched. “So, plans for tonight?”

“Hm, not really, giving out candy and calling it a night, I guess.”

“No Amanda then?”

“No Amanda.” You hadn’t meant the words to come out as dejected as they did, she was grown up now, she wanted to do grown-up things without her father and that was normal. It was fine. You were fine with it.

Joseph must have picked up on your distress because as he gave you back the bag he made sure to kiss you, it was simple, sweet and lasted long enough for you to sigh into it as he brushed his hand against your cheek. You were in your forties, this sort of thing shouldn’t make you as weak in the knees as it did. His arms came back around you, Joseph liked holding you and if there weren’t too many people around you couldn’t keep him off you. “Once we’re back from trick ‘n’ treating we’re having a scary movie marathon, you’re welcome to join.”

“I thought you didn’t let the kids watch those anymore?” Your voices were quiet, you were so close they didn’t need to be more than a whisper, if the neighbours saw, they might think you weren’t talking at all.

“Well, it’ll be more Corpse Bride than Carrie. That is unless Mary has her way.” You pushed away in shock, not completely out of his hold but enough that it lost the intimacy, “Mary will be there?”

He sheepishly avoided your gaze as his hands started fidgeting with the folds of your shirt, “Yes, we’d been talking Christmas and about how we don’t the kids to have to split it between us. So we’re thinking of spending it together.”

“And Halloween is your practice run?”

He nodded rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. A night with Mary. She’d long since gotten over the two of you being together, even given her blessing that you could be involved in the kids’ lives, but still, the three of you hadn’t actually spent any time altogether. Mostly, you saw her with Damien at the shelter; you were even pleasant with each other. Sighing, you pulled completely out of his arms and went back to your decorating. Joseph and the kids weren’t involved at the shelter so you didn’t breach the subject with her, it was as if you and Mary had made a silent pact not address it. Could you actually keep up the pleasantries in front of them?

“I don’t think it’s a great idea that I’m there, Joe. Maybe I should sit this one out.” You could visibly see Joseph’s heart sink when he looked back at you. “Babe, I just think it’ll be easier for the kids this way.”

He could see the sense in your words, you could tell that much, you just wished he didn’t look so hurt by them. Amanda couldn’t come to see you and you couldn’t be with Joseph. Tonight was turning out to be very disappointing. The silence between you became increasingly uncomfortable, neither of you was happy with how this conversation had played out. Finally, he broke it, “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”

You nodded and watched as he left before reluctantly going back to your decorating. In the distance, the sun was idling its way to the horizon and soon child sized monsters would be at your doorstep.

The costumes excelled this side of maple bay, most of the dressed up tykes you didn’t recognise and the ones you did it was only because their father was stood with them. His own son being too old and aloof to dress up anymore Damien helped make everyone’s costumes each year. There was nothing that man did half-heartedly. You had to personally apologise to Daisy, though, as she had hoped to dress up with Amanda and assured her Amanda would be happy to dress up with her any other day, conventions be damned.

It took awhile for the Christiansen’s to get to your door, it seemed the dads had a schedule worked out so the kids could visit each other houses. When they did finally get to you, your mood immediately lifted seeing a theme in their costumes. For once the twins were not a pair, Christie had dressed up as Wednesday Addams, Christian was little Pugsley and Chris made a very handsome and very tiny Gomez.

“Well aren’t you all very frightening!” You gasped, holding out your bowl of expertly chosen candy and letting them take for more than everyone had been allowed.

“We wanted to be devils!” Christie said as she shovelled the candy into the bag. “Dad told them no.” Chris finished, also shovelling in candy. (You thought you might run out at this rate.)

An indulgent laugh escaped you as you let your eyes drift to where Joseph stood, who was not dressed up unlike some of the other dads. No Mary insight. “You couldn’t sacrifice the pink for one evening?”

“Honey, pastel is a lifestyle, you might not recognise me out of it.”

“Shame, you would have made a handsome Lurch.” You stood, finally pulling the bowl away from the children and realised Crish wasn’t with them. “Where’s the little one?”

“With mommy, it’s too cold for him, silly.” Christie chimed in. So she was here, it should have made you happier that they were learning to be a family again after the divorce, still, you couldn’t help selfishly feeling downtrodden. Joseph had started to say something but it was too late, the twins were tugging on his hands excited to claim more candy and before you knew it they were walking away.

Closing the door behind you, you opted for a beer and sat down to watch TV. It was getting late, there shouldn’t be too many more trick or treaters and you’d already given out candy to all the kids in the cul-de-sac so you could justify a couple of drinks now. It wasn’t like you had any plans.

TV, it turned out, did not help your mood. It was mostly horrors that were either too gory for your simple tastes or had romance plots that you just couldn’t get mushy over right now. What’s worse is that one of the kid's channels was actually playing corpse bride. It wasn’t like the movie made you feel anything only that Joseph had simply mentioned that movie earlier. And then you were thinking about them, about Joseph and the kids and Mary all sat together pretty as a picture. A picture daddy’s boyfriend just didn’t fit in.

You drowned the thought with the rest of your second beer and was about to get a third when someone knocked at your door. It was too dark for any more kids to be out now, you thought about leaving it, your curtains were closed so they wouldn’t know you were awake. The knocking came again, a little louder this time, sighing you moved to open it.

“Hey, sailor.”

“Mary!” Shamefully, you couldn’t hide the shock in your voice.

“I don’t appreciate you dodging me like I’m the plague.” She clicked her tongue as she looked you over and crossed her arms. “Thought we were past all that.”

“I just thought,” You shuffled your feet on the spot, averting your gaze. “You’d want tonight with the kids,”

“How sweet, but I cannot deal with three sugar-hyped kids and Joseph playing the lovesick puppy every time Christie mentions your name,” Mary rolled her eyes when she caught the wave of heat hit your cheeks. “Just get your coat.”

She barely gave you time to grab your keys and coat before she was dragging you out the house and into the street. She didn’t stop until the pair of you were at Joseph’s door, she paused letting her hand linger on the handle for a moment. “I’m okay with it, you know.” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “Not just you being with Joe, but you being around the kids. You being... A part of the family.”

You felt your heart swell in your chest and wondered whether Mary knew how much this meant to you. If you didn’t know for a fact she’d hit you for it, you would have hugged her, instead you settled for quiet, “Thank you.”

As soon as the door was open the twins came rushing at the pair of you, Christian tackling his mother’s legs and Christie tackling yours. “You took too long!” They whined in unison and they hung off the pair of you.

“His fault.” Mary said, pointing her thumb in your direction, before wrestling the small boy off her and walking with him to the sofa, Chris quickly cuddling up to her, “So what movie are we on?”

“Chris chose Caroline, but it sounds a bit-”

“Oh my Lord, Joe, it’s a kids movie! It’ll be fine.”

At the sound of his voice, you quickly closed the door and lifted Christie in your arms, looking around for him. You eyes found Joseph crouched in front of the TV, muttering in defeat as he put on the DVD. The smile that spread across his face when he noticed you had your heart leaping; it wasn’t fair how easily he did this to you. In the next moment, he had strode over and planted a kiss on your lips.

Christie protested, wriggling in your arms and swatting at your faces. “Grooooss!”

“Yeah boys, gross, it’s Halloween, not Valentines!” Mary teased and encouraged Chris and Christian to join in with the chorus of ‘yucks’.

To their mercy, you stopped and the pair of you sat to watch the movie, Christie squishing herself between the pair of you. You had a feeling she was on smooch patrol, it didn’t stop Joseph stretching his arm across the back of the sofa, so he could idly play with your hair, sending the occasional shiver through you. A feeling of content washed over you as your fears of not belonging dissipated. You were at home.

#joseph christiansen #Joseph/dadsona #Dream daddy #ddadds #a dad dating simulator #halloween #long post #my writing #it kinda cuts short at the end but it was getting so long #whoops

32 notes · View notes