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samwritesforyou · 1 year

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false god’s victory

scaramouche, traveler

summary: a different spin of the fight scene in the workshop where traveler fights him as a false god, scaramouche ends up victorious

warnings: spoilers for 3.2 update, obviously, also not proof read (sorry for any typos)

wordcount: 1.7k

A/N: literally listening to scara’s fight scene music on repeat, i cant get him out of my head, and with nanowrimo it’s a perfect combo of me writing only about him i think, pls fellow scara kinnies interact

the doors closed behind traveler’s back as they entered the hall.

it was dead silent, they could hear their own heartbeat.

they rarely got nervous, but their palms were definitely sweating. an almost divine being like them has a pretty decent gut feeling, and for the first time, they felt like this battle might not end in their favour.

the amount of power and dark energy concentrated in the air was making it difficult to breathe.

their elegant hand shot up to their chest and the blond listened for a little while to the beat of their own body.

“it’s gonna be okay.. whatever happens, i need to at least try,” they said to themselves and finally started walking forward, clutching the sword in their hand a little tighter.

the gigantic violet robot in front of them didn’t budge. it was sitting in place, as if abandoned.

everything was deadly silent. only traveler’s footsteps were echoing through the space.

as soon as they got close enough to the machine, cogs started spinning, ruining the absence of sounds, and the whole mechanical creature in front of them came to life.

parts of dark blue spaces between the steel started glowing purple, giant eye, the heart of the whole thing with the electro sign on it, started shining the most, faint laughter being heard coming from within.

“let it be known that divinity is mine,” he breathed out in almost robotic voice, the sound getting in the every corner of the room, omnipresent.

there was no time to waste, blond strands of hair flew in the air as they charged against this false god.

so the fight has begun. traveler charged at the shouki no kami, quickly realising that their usual fighting style will have little use here.

as the balladeer inside the machine got more destructive with time, they managed to use their environment to their favour, jumping off and on the falling platforms, to get closer to his being.

after being able to deal at least some damage, once even getting a bit too close to his “electro eye window” this mechanical wonder managed to trap the traveler under his massive hand, pressing down on them.

it was incredibly hard to hold on, sword flying across the room for some time now.

his pressure was so grand that the floor beneath both of them cracked and got destroyed, traveler and balladeer falling down onto the lower level of the building.

pretty quickly after the fall traveler got up, looking for their sword, but their attention got swept by the machine in front of them, which doubled in size now, if not tripled, giving out a deafening scream as the balladeer gathered even more power, making the walls shake.

“that’s not good..” they thought to themselves and realised they now only have their elemental power and fists to rely on, clutching them and stepping forward.

the machine didn’t move for an attack, floating still in the air, in all its purple glowing glory.

what happened after a few moments made blond stop in their tracks, cautious.

the electro eye opened with a hiss, purple steam coming out and spreading into the air.

soon they were able to see scaramouche, connected to the machine from his back.

“what, do you think you can defeat me, traveler?” balladeer said, his face contorting in an evil smirk, eyes growing darker.

he received no response, traveler was preparing for the worst, mentally counting all the possible outcomes and how to be victorious in all of them.

“i’ll make it easier for you,” he said, purple tubes from his back disconnecting with multiple clicks, “i always wanted to defeat you up close, with my own hands,” once he was free from any connection to the mechanical machine, he simply stepped out of the eye.

instead of falling down, he was elegantly floating downwards, closer to the traveler, spreading his arms with a triumphant smile on his face.

once he was in front of them, he landed on the ground, now looking up at his opponent.

“bow before me, worm,” he gritted through his teeth, eyes starting to glow with bright purple, hands flickering with electro.

traveler would never do that, of course, but suddenly they felt some force from the outside making one of their knees extremely heavy and they dropped on the ground with one of their limbs.

scaramouche barked a quick laugh, as he was watching traveler losing control over the other leg as well, now, indeed, bowing in front of him.

their face was filled with resentment and rage towards the balladeer, but it seemed like their journey might be really coming to an end.

“and that’s how you realise that you’re not some hero,” he said calmly, having to bend down a little, to get what he wants, and extending his right hand towards the traveler’s chest and opening his palm in front of it, “but merely nobody in this world.”

traveler wanted to protest, quite quickly realising what he’s about to do, never even thinking that he would have enough power to be able to do it, but all of their limbs were now unmoving, clearly under the balladeer’s spell.

now they could only watch him finish his plan.

they couldn’t help anyone this time.

it was over.

“not that you didn’t even help anyone this time,” he read their mind, smirk never leaving his lips, “you also brought such an unfortunate end on yourself.”

he stopped for a moment and looked directly into traveler’s eyes, as if trying to find some answer that they’re not willing to share even with someone as powerful as him. something that even he can’t read in their mind.

“tell me, traveler, was it worth it?,” he cocked his head on the side, rising an eyebrow, “you were so kind. to all of them. helped so many people in teyvat..” he now, not breaking eye contact, started to charge up energy in his palm, and something very bright slowly started to come out from their chest, making them wince from pain, “yet nobody even cared enough to help you in return. nobody cared to know where your sibling might be,” his smirk was growing into a fleshed out smile, bright purple, almost pink pupils narrowing.

he looked down, seeing that the glowing essence of this body that was kneeling in front of him was slowly coming out from their chest, as his palm was beckoning the energy to flow his way, away from the host.

traveler was in excruciating pain, now tears swelling up in their eyes and there was nothing they can do. not anymore.

“not even archons, who know the answer, would give it to you,” he continued the process, now returning to look into traveller’s eyes again, satisfied to see them suffer, “yet all you wanted was just to find your sibling.”

the ball of travellers energy was almost out of their body completely, glowing brighter with every piece that was showing itself out of their body.

the process - even though almost nobody besides archons possessed this amount of power to be able to execute it successfully - was quite simple. and for the higher beings like the traveler, they knew exactly what’s happening to them.

it’s called an extraction of their soul. their energy. their memories. their knowledge.

everything. this process deletes otherwise well-rounded being and renders them anew.

the only thing that will stay will be their personality, to an extent, and skills that the body remembers.

traveler will stay being a great swordsperson, if they decide to come back to it again.

and, of course, this process is performed in order for the other being to gain everything from the one that they took it from.

traveller is probably one of the most powerful people positioned in teyvat at the moment, and once scaramouche acquires their essence, there will be no stopping him.

as the last fragments of travelers energy was leaving their body, they got the last urge to save something. to save someone. they were always together. they can’t leave them.

“wait..” they finally said, voice cracking.

scaramouche indeed stopped, hovering the palm over the bright ball of essence, it’s entirely almost out of their chest.

“please…” they whispered, “anything but them.. leave me memories of my sibling,” their mouth quivered with the words, tears threatening to fall down their face, “i beg you.”

balladeers usual smirk disappeared, as he remembered that he himself would have hated to be parted with the gnosis, that was powering the significant portion of his being.

he looked down at the luminescent sphere and pulled it a bit more towards the outside.

he felt tears falling down on his hand, rest of the travelers body shaking.

“please..”

as much as he wanted everyone to suffer, to go through the grief and emotions that he went through, he.. still couldn’t bring himself to destroy them like this.

he knows how it feels to lose something.. someone.. everything.

he will spare them. it will be the last act of kindness that he owes to this world.

scaramouche didn’t reply, just carefully cutting off a piece from the sphere with his fingers, pushing it back into travelers heart.

and with that, there was almost nothing left to pull out, they were almost stripped down of all their power.

“after all, it’s not an unfortunate end for you. i think you should be grateful, that someone like me took my time for you. with your power, i will burn this world to the ground,” his smirk returned, as he pulled the last bit of the sphere from the traveler.

once the essence was outside of the hosting body, it started to glow even brighter, and scaramouche elegantly inserted it inside his own chest, feeling new levels of energy and all sorts of information flowing through him.

in the meantime, travelers lips turned upwards ever so slightly, as they felt the memories of their sibling still being in place, as always.

their body soon fell breathlessly to the ground, fast asleep.

it was time for scaramouche to move on to the next part of his plan.

he gave the blond’s useless body the last glance, entertaining the idea of killing them nevertheless, but decided against that.

not even realising it himself, by gaining traveler’s essence and merging it with his own, he created something new in his heart. a new beginning. and it won’t be the last act of kindness he will show to others.

it will take him some time to realise it.

as he was leaving the joururi workshop, he heard faint high pitched voices of someone entering the hall, calling for the traveler.

#genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #genshin fanfic #the balladeer #the wanderer #for ONCE it’s not reader insert because i wanted some of my friends to read it #plus almost killing a reader is a bit 😐#but maybe someone is into that #angst #idk how to tag ittt

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onyxoverride · 3 years

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Ocean Spit

Titan! Eren Jaeger x Reader [ + normal form Eren Jaeger]

◙warnings: monsterfucking then normal fucking, multiple orgasms, overstim, a lot of liquids, size difference to the max. Minors dni (18+ only.)

◙word count: 2.5k

◙summary: Eren offers to walk the both of you to the ocean and when you two get there, in a secret little cove, he decides to try something out. You enjoy it thoroughly.

◙note: I had to hold back on being too gross. Not so gentle reminder: do not post me on tiktok, especially this and my darker content.

When Eren first offered to walk the two of you to the ocean, you denied. Walking that far? Absolutely not. You would prefer to keep your legs on your body.

But then he clarified that he would be using his titan form, and technically all you had to do was hold on to him with ODM gear, that sounds much better.

So here you are, hanging onto the strands of hair of his titan form as the ocean slowly gets bigger and bigger in your field of vision. It’s beautiful, especially from up so high. It sparkles more than any shiny metal you have ever seen, and it is bluer than any eyes you have ever met, it reflects the sun back into your eyes you almost have to squint to see it clearly. Thankfully, Eren’s big head is blocking some of the sun’s reflection from hitting you.

The ODM gear is digging into his skin but you think that he can’t even feel it, like a needle pricking into his skin. The rocking of his titan form could make you fall asleep if you aren’t careful, everything just feels so serene. Quiet. You two do not need to talk, can’t technically, but the silence is still comfortable.

Before you know it you can hear the ocean’s waves and Erens giant titan feet splashing into the water. You want to ask him where you two are going but you know he won’t hear, or wouldn’t be able to respond properly, so you put all your trust in him to keep you safe. Thunderous splashes of the ocean sound so small from where you are and all the blue you admired on the way here could wash you away with home much there simply is. And the smell? Wow, salty, expensive, and so new. There are several smells you aren’t able to recognize, something a little foul but not enough to scare you away, and another thing that smells like some sort of plant but still pure sea.

Wind blowing past you as he walks, curling around your body as you close your eyes and bask in the sunlight and sensations until he stops at a little cove, closed in by rocks and exclusive access to only him or a small boat. The thing is these rocks are too slippery to grab onto, your ODM gear would do fine but not you. Thankfully, Erens sinking down onto his knees in the water so you are closer to the ground of rock, his big hand reaching around so you have some sort of leverage and step to get down. A weird, gentlemanly titan version of an escort that leaves you giggling as you finally step onto the rock.

Everything is so interesting, it’s hard to take in so many new things at once but Eren is right here, right in front of you in all his titan glory which keeps you grounded. His had that helped you down comes around to pull at your gear, an attempt to be gentle but still get his message of ‘Take this off’ across.

“Take off my clothes?” You try to confirm the demand that is leaving your skin warmer than when the sun was hitting it. You figured you two would swim but you also assumed that he would be in his usual, human form. But Eren lets out an affirmative huff which blows your cape and hair back a bit. So you strip as he watches intently, darkened titan eyes observing your little body slowly get naked beside your underwear.

Then he’s gently tracing a large finger to the edge of your panties, a silent demand to take them off too. It’s embarrassing, your whole body is hot and maybe it would be less so if he was his normal size. But his huge titan form feels like a whole audience within those eyes of his. You comply anyways, slipping your underwear off into a small pile away from the wake of the water.

Another huff, more content, as he sits back into the water a bit, lower and closer to you, keeping his hand close to your body as you shift around on your feet. His tongue slips out and he’s leaning closer, the hand behind you coming to bump into the back of your knees and he’s licking your legs, the muscle so strong causing you to fall back into his hand.

Everything he’s doing seems so calculated. His tongues spit covering your legs as you rest into his hand. He’s observing you, checking to see any signs of him being too rough or if you want him to stop but all he sees is you squirming, embarrassed on his rough hand.

You should feel at least a bit ashamed for liking this but seriously, your inner thighs are slowly being drench and it’s not just his spit that’s soaking you or the occasional sprays of the ocean water. You taste salty, and sweet at the same time. Like those expensive candies made of caramel that you can only buy in the inner walls.

Was this his idea all along? To have his tongue licking over your bare cunt as you lay helpless in his hand. One long lick feels good, but then he’s putting the tip of his tongue right over your cunt and pushes, and all the pressure has you grasping onto his fingers as he pulls an abrupt orgasm from you. You cum so hard and so quickly it almost hurts. Tongue still on you as you curse, everything is making your body buzz and sing with the sensations he’s pulling from you. Holy shit. He can pull another orgasm from you easily if he doesn’t stop.

But he keeps his tongue on you, breath huffing over your body keeping you warm as your whole body clenches and is thrown into another orgasm. He brings his other hand from the water to hold you delicately between them, finally pulling back his tongue for a second. You look debauched, soaked in his drool and heaving breaths from cumming so hard and so quickly.

He can see you moaning out something, his name he hopes, as he takes his thumbs across your body, holding you like a doll, rolling his thumbs gently across your breast. No matter how soft he is trying to be it still feels rough. The strength difference and the texture of his skin all add to the buzzing under your skin.

You feel helpless and safe at the same time. As his thumbs travel across your body and press gently in between your legs, he could easily squish you if he wasn’t treating you so softly, so carefully. But your cunt feels so sensitive already, puffy and slick, fluttering around nothing has his tongue strokes over it more.

You let him play with your body, hands caressing his giant fingers as they manipulate and grope you. He cups his hand one more time, you laying in it, and employs his tongue once again. Licking at your legs, hot breath fanning over you again causing all the liquids around you to feel warm again, his tongue works over your chest. Rough skin overstimulating your nipples easily. His movements are attempts of delicacy but he is literally a giant, there is only a small extent of how delicate he can be. Your body is trapped in his cupped hand at the mercy of his tongue. You have never heard yourself moan this loud, maybe it’s an attempt to reach his ears but honestly, it is involuntary at this point. The coarse texture of his tongue glides over your puffy and abused cunt one more time before you are unraveling again, cumming loudly on his tongue once more before his hand is settled to the rocks below.

You settle back against his hand, body exhausted chest rising and falling to try to catch up your thoughts and energy. Until you hear him rip out of the nape. Everything feels just fuzzy like all those orgasms ripped your senses away with them. You don’t even realize Eren is beside you, pulling you up from the slowly steaming palm of his titan’s hand on trembling legs. But then your legs are buckling and he holds you and falls to the rocky ground with you to cushion your fall.

You finally look at him and his face is red down to his chest, eyes struggling on where to look at you because every part of you is alluring right now, completely drenched and toyed with by his titan form. He looks like a wild cat, disheveled, and the titan markings decorating his face don’t help him look sane.

Before you can say anything, Eren is tripping out of his clothes, attempting to throw them into the pile where yours rest against the rocks and away from the water. He’s trailing his hands down your body that’s covered in titan spit and your cum and slick sticking between your legs.

“Can we- can I-” He’s embarrassed to even ask but you get the message into your fuzzy brain. But he’s been toying with you all this time, it’s not unfair to with him back, right?

“Can you what, Eren?” You lean back into the rocks so he can stare at more of your body, “Tell me.”

He knows what you are doing but he falls into the trap nonetheless, “Can we- well can we, you know…” He sighs and hovers over you to look you in the eyes. “Can I fuck you now?” You want to laugh at him, he rarely ever gets shy but in these situations, he can’t help it. You quirk your brow in response, encouraging him to continue and he scoffs.

“Whatever, nevermind,” his threat of not following through usually works to get you to tug him into you, to finally get to the main event going, but this time it doesn’t. He’s too embarrassed to say anything else.

“That’s not gonna work, Eren,” you sing out, “Your titan form gave me a few very nice orgasms, I’m content if we stop.”

He never knew he could be jealous of his titan form but here he is. He was the one doing that to you, not just his titan form, him. That’s what spurs his words on, “Can I please fuck you? While you’re covered in my titans drool that gave you such nice orgasms?” He spits out his words like sour candy.

You throw your arms around his neck as you giggle, “Since you asked so nicely, but you have to do most of the work.” You feel boneless from being manhandled (titanhandled?) and he understands, it’s not like he hasn’t done all the work before. He pulls back to look at your cunt, clenching around nothing and soaked for a multitude of reasons. Fuck, it’s erotic. Swollen and slick, already overstimulated by his titan’s tongue and begging for his cock.

He taps his cock against your sensitive clit and watches your thighs jolt in response. All the liquids easily lube up his cock, sliding it over your clit one more time to see your reaction which makes you jolt a bit from the pleasurable and stinging sensation before he glides his cock into your clenching walls. His head rolls back at the feeling and once he is in all the way, he grasps your hips, digging his blunt nails into your skin to have some leverage, and pulls you into his thrusts. Your cunt is tight and constricting around him and so wet, it’s almost unbearable. Back arching, hands grabbing at his to feel at least a little grounded because you would be sliding against the rocks if it wasn’t for his grip.

“Eren, fuck-” he is using your body, you feel almost limp like a toy as he keeps bringing you down on his cock, the rocks below scratch at your back but the buzz humming through your body makes it hard to care. The overstimulation feels like a pleasant burn throughout your lower half but his cock inside you feels so good and that burning sensation only adds to the pleasure.

The slapping of your thighs hitting is absurdly loud and wet, he is very glad that no one is near the two of you; otherwise, they would get an earful of debauched moans shared between the two of you and the lewd paps intensified by titan spit and your cum.

He’s pushing moans out of you, your cunt tightening as another orgasm and he can feel everything. The soft ridges of your cunt and the soft patch he’s hitting that sends you over, your nails digging into his hands as he stills inside you. The tightening of your cunt sends him into a well-earned orgasm because the whole time his titan form was playing around with your body he’s been hard. Cum filling up your hole and when he finally pulls back he watches your cunt push out his seed that only adds to the mixture of juices surrounding your lower half and pooling below your ass.

Chest heaving, it feels like your whole body is blurry as he lovingly strokes your thighs.

“Are you okay?” It feels like he has finally processed how fucked you looked. Blissed out and leaning back against the rock, you just hum. You can’t even focus your eyes enough to see his red face, embarrassed and blissed out at the same time. He shimmies your body up, propped against his chest, and gradually moves the two of you to the water.

He sits the two of you on a high sitting part of the cove submerged in water. The water feels nice against your tired skin, washing away all the other liquids sticking to you as Eren holds you tightly to his chest as if you will wash away with them. You are glad he’s holding onto otherwise you would be with how lax you are laying against him. He’s starting to feel a little bad but you look so content laying against his chest, eyes closed in content with the salty water cleaning off your body and soaking your sore muscles.

Ah, you could stay like this forever.

/ / :

You’re upset with him, he knows it. You couldn’t even use your ODM gear because of how much he wore you out and you can’t walk properly even a day later. Armin came in to check up on you but he couldn’t even look you in the eye and Mikasa is avoiding your bed like the plague besides bringing you food.

The glare you are sending his way makes him play with his fingers.

“Eren Jaeger…”

He avoids you and looks out the window instead, with his cheeks red and smile faltering across his lips.

“What did you tell them?”

He sucks his lips into his teeth, “I don’t really have to tell them, It’s kind of obvious…”

You throw a pillow at him which he lets hit his face as you both hear footsteps padding down the hallway.

Connie peaks his head in, “Did y’all really go to the ocean to fu-”

Another pillow is thrown. At least they don't know the full story.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @kenmachishi @anzais @novvabeam @armins-bowl-cut @yourtamaki

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !! 🖤

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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cjjohansson · 3 years

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YOU'RE IT FOR ME

SUMMARY ; you and Natasha argue over your mission gone wrong.

supersolider!reader x natasha romanoff

angst/fluff.

fighting/blood/injury/swearing word count;3.4k - this is my first ever attempt at writing anything. im so sorry if its terrible.

As always Steve woke you up at stupid oclock in the morning to brief you on a quick unexpected intel mission. He told you the base you were being sent to has not long been abandoned and if anyone was there, to eliminate the threat like you always do. Lucky for you, you had super-solider serum running through your veins so this mission was simple and easy for you to complete alone. You only had to retrieve some files on HYDRA creating another super-solider serum.

However Natasha wasn’t too happy about you being woken up so early meaning she had to wake up to a cold bed and you were nowhere to be seen throughout the whole compound. She looked around for you everywhere only to end up running quite literally into Steve, he obviously knew who she was looking for and finally spoke up, “Oh, if you're looking for Y/N, they went on a quick mission.”

“What do you mean a ‘quick mission’, they would have come to say bye?” Natasha responded suspiciously due to the fact that you would never leave without saying bye or giving her a quick peck on her lips regardless of how long the mission would take.

“A quick intel mission, the only person I could see who had potential in succeeding was them. Woke them up 3 hours ago, they should be back within 2. They’re fine Natasha, you don't need to worry.” Steve thought to quickly remind her that you were more than capable than going on a mission alone and that you certainly didn't need to be worried about, you’re a super-solider for god sake.

“OK, just next time notify me too when they’re going so I'm not walking around looking.” Natasha walked away straight after that proceeding to the training room to blow off some steam about the fact that you didn’t say bye.

Meanwhile

you had got to the base a little over 2 hours ago, and when Steve told you this base was abandoned you had no idea why you actually decided to believe him. The base was in fact NOT abandoned and within the first 10 minutes of you slowly making your way to the base from the quinjet you was swarmed with at least 10 HYDRA agents. You worked as quickly as you could taking out the threats left right and centre with your guns and some quite literally being thrown straight into some trees. You managed to get the agents down in record time, you was quite impressed with yourself to say the least but you knew you should call for backup, you reached for your comms only to be met with a sickening buzzing sound surrounding your ear drums, you threw your ear piece onto the floor and just continued towards the base. At the end of the day you still had a mission to complete after all.

You finally made your way into the base to see that maybe Steve was right about one thing: the base itself was abandoned but the surroundings were not. “Idiot” you thought to yourself about Steve sending you on a mission with not all accurate information.

You’re making your way through the base using your enhanced hearing for anything that doesn't sound right, guess it's somewhat of your lucky day when you hear nothing so you continue your path down the long narrow corridor to finally reach the head scientists room to gather the files about HYDRAs own knowledge on developing a new form of super-solider serum. You always wondered why people had an obsession with powered and enhanced people but at the same time you understood why. You just wished yours wasn't forced on to you and that you were given a choice but you were soon to be one of HYDRAs secret weapons, but when the Avengers found you, you had just been injected with the serum. The Avengers were infiltrating HYDRA bases when Lokis scepter had been stolen, they found you just in time and took you in straight away.

Plugging in the usb drive to transfer all data, the transfer popping up onto the screen telling you that it would take 10 minutes, “Easy enough.” that's what you had thought until you could hear footsteps coming from down the corridor. Quite heavy, long strides, possibly over 6ft tall, only one person, even better. You made your way to hide behind the door so when it opened you could attack right away, but that never came. Instead a metal arm came crashing through the wall you were standing up against grabbing you by the throat and throwing you half way down the corridor, it took you a moment for you to try and stand up but by the time you was about to stand a fist was already being swung towards your face, keeping you locked on the floor below him. You knew this soldier was like you, you could feel it but you also knew that you might not get out of this fight easily, they were much stronger. That face looked familiar, the blurring of your vision from the hits making it harder to properly see but you knew it was familiar. The beating continued with left and right hooks being thrown against your face, the blood rushing out of new cuts across your face, your busted lip and most likely broken nose. You couldn't give up. You knew that for sure. You managed to find the strength to start dodging the punches coming right at you but you knew you needed to get that drive and get going quickly. Rolling out from underneath the soldier as they went to drive their metal arm straight into your face you grabbed your gun and shot the soldier in the stomach and sprinted back to the room to collect the usb and get going, you knew it was the only way to run rather than end up dying here alone. You finally reached the doors of the base to continue your sprint when you heard that sound of a bullet coming straight out of a gun, it buried itself right into the back of your left leg but you had to keep moving, the blood gushing from your face and now from your leg reminded you to definitely tell Steve to “fuck off” when he comes into your room before the suns even up again. Continuing the sprint, you started to only imagine one thing. That Natasha was going to have your head when you got back to the compound.

You could see the quinjet right in front of you and you had never been so happy to see one so much in your life but just as you was to step one foot onto the jet another two shots were heard behind you, you KNEW this soldier wasn't going to give up and you definitely knew they would keep up with you. The bullets finally lodged themselves into your body, one straight into your right leg and the other straight into your lower back coming out through your stomach. This wasn't good. You were just about on the jet pulling yourself up as the option to stand wasn't even an option anymore, telling FRIDAY to close the hatch and get in the air and back to the compound as quickly as it could and make sure to have medical on stand by as you land. Moving yourself to try and sit in one of the chairs holding pressure to your gunshot wound in your stomach, you heard a familiar voice ring through the speakers of the jet.

“Y/N come in, do you copy?” Natasha. Just as you go to open your mouth to reply your vision starts to blur and all that you manage to croke out are inaudible slurs, until your vision completely goes black.

To say Natasha was pissed off at Steve and you was an understatement. Oh if looks could kill Steve would already be 6 foot under. They stood on the landing pad waiting for the quinjet to arrive back at the compound but what they were expecting was not what they finally saw when the door to the quinjet opened. There you laid on the floor, choking on the air and laying in a puddle of your own blood, paler than anything they had ever seen. Before Steve and Natasha could even make it to the quinjet fully, the medical team were rushing in and putting you on a stretcher taking you straight into surgery. Natasha didn’t even make a move she stood there completely lost with that imagine in her head, but as soon as a doctor shouted you had no pulse it was like she was snapped back into reality her body was on flight mode, she made the move to try and run to you as quickly as possible but Steve had already grabbed her round the waist and was holding back against her vicious punches and kicks shouting at him to ‘let her go or he will regret it’. The sounds of Natashas shouting soon caught the ears of some of the other Avengers, running outside one by one came Wanda, Bucky and Sam. Confused by the commotion until they finally heard the sobs of Natasha in Steve's arms and the puddle of blood in the quinjet, they instantly knew this was about you.

Natasha had been pacing around the waiting room for 2 hours now, everyone telling her, you're ok and the surgery will be over with soon. But they didn't know if you were ok and when the surgery would be over they just wanted Natasha to sit down and stop pacing. Just as Natasha finally took a seat a doctor walked straight in front of them staring at Natasha.

“Are they alive?” Natashas voice coming out weak filled the waiting room, the anxiety from the question entering everyone's mind to know the truth.

“Yes”

They all finally let out a breath none of them knew they were holding. Natasha finally looks down and letting some more silent tears roll down her cheeks, she looks up at the doctor.

“Can I see them?” no one has ever heard Natasha sound so weak and vulnerable, they all knew yous were together, yous never kept it a secret openly flirting in front of everyone and you making it very clear who Natasha was to you at parties when you'd go up to her at the bar and put your arms around her waist and start slowly kissing her neck no matter who she was involved in a conversation with. But no one had ever seen this side of your relationship, the hard side of worrying and panicking when one of you was injured or on a mission. The vulnerable side and lets just say you and Natasha were not ones to let people see you both so small and fragile.

Following the doctor into another room there you laid on the bed your stomach wrapped tightly and also your legs, the bruising on your face a nice bright purple. Your skin had slowly started to have more colour in and Natasha had never been so relieved. She made her way over slowly towards your bed afraid any type of sound would wake you up. She wanted you to rest, but part of her wanted to shout and scream at you for not calling for backup or even just turning around and coming back home. Turns out she wasn't as quiet as the sound of the chair moving wakes you up from your sleep.

The bright lights make you hiss and groan. You make your way to sit up thinking it was all a dream, that is until you feel two sets of hands on each side of your body pushing you down.

“Lay back down y/n, you're hurt.” Natasha, there it is again that sweet voice you've spent months waking up too, but it's different. It sounds broken like she has been crying and is about too again at any given moment. Opening your eyes was a struggle but you finally got there. In the room stood Steve, Wanda, Sam and Bucky and sat next to you ever so gently holding your hand is your Natasha. You go to turn towards Natasha but Bucky catches your eye, everyone sees the hesitance in whether or not you want to finally speak.

“He looked like you.” that's all you manage to choke out before Nat is passing you a cup of water to drink slowly. Everyone starts to look around confused straight from you back to Bucky. Until you finally speak up again.

“The guy that attacked me at the base, thanks Steve by the way maybe next time send two people instead of one into an ‘abandoned’ base, yeah abandoned my arse.” Everyone smiles at your sarcasm but quickly pushes that to the side to ask the question everyone is so desperate to know.

“Babe,what do you mean by he looked like Bucky?” ah, Natashas voice, you simply turned and smiled at her squeezing her hand.

“Well like I said Talia, he looked exactly like Buck. Metal arm, red star. Long black hair. All the facial features are the same but not the eyes, they just looked black. Was hard to know for definite with the amount of punches I was receiving but if no one was to know Bucky like we do, then people would be sure that the Winter Soldier is alive and well.”

Bucky stood there dumbfounded not even knowing what to say or even think, everyone just looks confused at what you’re saying it makes no sense but then again yous are all in a room with three super-soliders, a witch, a highly trained ex-assassin and a guy that has robotic wings for christ sake.

“Ok i think we should all take a break give Nat and y/n some space ok? Come on guys, we can debrief you later y/n/n yeah?” Steves the one to speak up this time probably too confused and tired to have this conversation.

“I know what you're gonna say Tasha, and i'm not in the mood to hear it so can we leave the telling off until tomorrow? Ok, thanks means a lot.”

“No. we are talking about this now so it can be over with and we can move forward. Its simple really y/n/n youre a fucking idiot!” her voice starts to get louder as she continues her rant.

“You call for backup no matter the excuse you call for it or you get back on that jet and come back home no mission is worth more than your life you know that! Ugh, i’m so fucking angry at you for being so fucking reckless! You could have died? Why can't you see that? Just because you have that serum it doesn't make you invincible you know that but you've acted it! All of this for some files? How can you expect me to not be upset or angry? You’re my partner, and i love you more than anything but when you act like this it makes me think if you are even thinking about me when youre risking your life for some stupid usb.” she looks away as she continues to cry, your brain now trying to process all of these words but also all of these emotions. Wait, did she just say she loves you? You have been together for nearly a year now and neither of you had even said that yet, you both knew it but never dared to say it.

“You love me?” it's your turn to choke out now, you know you love her but one minute she is calling you reckless and an idiot then she is telling you she loves you?

“Of course i love you, you fucking idiot!”

“Ok, ok, still mad i got it” she slowly turns to glare at you this time but she sees your tears slowly rolling down your face and she instantly softens her glare. You take her hands into yours and you know you have to say it back because if you don't she is going to be even more mad than what she already is and one thing you don't want to deal with right now is a mad girlfriend because she is so scary.

“Hey Talia, listen ok? I love you too. I do, I really do. I'm sorry i was reckless, i should have come back but it was like my body was on auto mode and yes like you said that isn't an excuse i know that ok. I thought i'd be ok on my own and well clearly i wasn't as i’m in a hospital bed but i’m here. I know we both worry when we go on separate missions and I know you probably worried more because I didn't come and say goodbye but I was hoping to be back by the time you woke up. Steve said it was abandoned and when I got off the jet and started walking no one was there and then I was ambushed by some guards but I took them down with ease and there was no one else in sight, my comms went off and they were buzzing and I just carried on. I needed to do this mission baby, I needed to get this information about the serum so we can try and stop HYDRA creating more soldiers and putting them through pain. I’m sorry I've hurt you, I didn't mean to do that, I was just doing my job but I'll tell Steve for next time that if i’m to go on a solo mission that you need to be with me ok? No more solo missions, not just for me but for everyone. We need to be safe. Especially with another Winter Soldier walking around like he owns the place ok? I love you Natalia, I’m sorry.” you've already lowered your head at this point too embarrassed by telling her we all need to be safe and that you love her.

You feel one of her hands move from yours, you think she is gonna walk out but instead you feel the softness of her fingertips tracing the bruising on your cheekbones before you even have the chance to hiss at the tender touch her lips are pressed so intensely against yours. You've kissed many times before but this kiss, it's just so different it's as if she is trying to tell you exactly how much she loves you and how much she is happy you're here just by this kiss. You move your hand up to her face and slowly move it round to play with the hairs at the back of her neck, she hums and slowly stops kissing you. You didn't want that kiss to end and you groan in frustration and she chuckles at your little outburst, Nat leans her forehead against yours and finally lets out a breath. You're ok, she knows it now.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a while forehead to forehead until you feel a shooting pain in your stomach, you hiss in pain and move away to lie back down on your back. Natasha is up in an instant thinking she has hurt you but you're quick to calm her nerves.

“Baby it's ok, just some pain. Come and lay with me, please?” you pull your puppy dog face, a face you know she cannot resist. She simply smiles and makes her way back over to the bed as you shuffle over to make room for her. The next minute you're both lying and she is snuggled into your side, your hand drawing patterns on her back and her arm ever so carefully laying above your wrapped stomach.

You understood why she was mad at you, you put your life on the line and didn't think twice about how she would feel with the consequences. You hated yourself for that, you knew you'd feel the same if it was her laying here injured and not you but it wasn't.

The room was silent, a comfortable silence. One you and Natasha both could just relax too.

“When I said I love you y/n, I truly meant it. You're it for me” she moved her head off your chest to look into your eyes, her eyes held so much emotion and you knew right then and there again like you had known for the past year that you were going to marry this woman.

“And you're it for me Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. I love you Talia, forever and always.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natalia romanoff #black widow x reader #marvel mcu #natasha romanoff imagine

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Just the Translator

Part Ten of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: There is rough sex in this. THERE IS ROUGH SEX IN THIS. Do NOT read if that offends you. There is also more anal stuff—NO FUCKING (not yet). Uh, canon-typical violence, grumpy Din Djarin, some fluffy moments, Baby Yoda being a little troublemaker, bit of a cliffhanger ending BUT NOT TO WORRY PALS I ALREADY GOT QUITE A BIT OF THE NEXT PART WRITTEN

A/N: ***Please take a second to visit this googledoc, in it are useful links regarding the BLM protests and what we can do to help. Here is a separate link to where I originally addressed this and shared more thoughts***

***

Whelp. At least you’re in a good mood.

In contrast, Din and the kid have been causing problems all morning, the both of them. Like two… two annoying, middle-aged children competing to see which one is less mature.

The smaller of the two, and older (most likely) is bouncing with energy. Acting a complete fool. Ready and willing to launch out of his restricting little sphere at any second, a bright green bundle of energy that slept way too well last night and is just rubbing it in at this point. He was fine earlier—checking out of the inn, picking up some food at a local market, riding in the Crest as it navigated towards the most isolated sector on this planet—but the hike to this field has been like pulling teeth.

In fact, Din is currently wearing a singular gauntlet on his left hand for that very reason—so this child’s hyper ass could be contained within the hovering, reflective prison. He’s restless, though, continuing to act out. At one point you suggest just letting him walk to let some energy out like yesterday, even if he slows the group down with his tiny little legs. Once you let the little menace out on parole though, he just continues to veer off in his own direction and irritate his dad even further.

And, oh stars—his dad.

Din has barely said a word, only answering with short responses when directly prompted and spending most of his energy just silently stewing inside his own little grumpy teapot on his head. The helmet is the only other piece of armor he’s donning besides the lone vambrace, and you’re surprised steam hasn’t started whistling through the top of it with how frustrated he is, how many times you’ve seen him curl his hands with impatience. At first it was amusing, though you know better than to tease him about it right now. You keep your mouth shut and try your best to wrangle the kid, doing everything you can to be helpful while also steering clear of unintentionally exacerbating his silent irritation, knowing Din isn’t in the mood for jokes after being interrupted at a very crucial moment last night. The sun shines directly on the front of his helmet and blinds you with every single annoyed step, so you follow just far enough behind him and try to use his enormous refrigerator of a body to shield your eyes.

At first it was amusing. But then the baby catches sight of a gorgeously patterned butterfly floating through the field that he probably wants to snack on for breakfast, and he breaks off from your entourage once more with a quiet little coo that should strike pure terror into the hearts of small animals everywhere.

Immediately you’re turning to go get him—but then a large hand quickly snatches the front of your shirt before you can take a single step, pulling until you’re colliding with an unarmored chest with an oof.

A bare hand catches your jaw and tightens until you’re staring deep into the thin blade of his visor, before Din whispers rough through the modulator, “As soon as he falls asleep.”

That’s all he says. And then he’s releasing you and letting you stumble back towards his wayward son a whole lot less amused than you were before, and a whole lot more achy. The baby shenanigans are far less amusing too.

“You’re killing me here, kiddo,” you breathe after quickly catching up with him, having to bend in half to lead him back towards his impatient dad.

His hot, moody… incredibly well endowed dad, thick arms crossed tight over his chest as he waits for your return.

The monster’s hand lifts high above him as his three fingers cling to just one of yours, the baggy brown sack exposing his pudgy little green elbow as he follows next to you with a waddle. It’s slow going, but at some point he decides to pull himself up onto your wrist and you catch him, cradling him in your arms before quickly hurrying back to Din.

Thankfully he begins to calm down a little after that. As you three eventually find a spot in the endlessly breezy field to settle into, the kid clamors back into his shield while Din carelessly drops the dark bag of supplies he carried from the Crest into the tall grass. You twist your back to let some of the stiffness out, rotating your arms to encourage more movement as he approaches.

“Same thing as yesterday,” he gruffs when he’s in reach, patting his chest again with a bare hand. “Hard as you can.”

“My… My hands hurt,” you eventually admit, not wanting to frustrate him even more and hoping you would be able to work on blocking today instead, but Din just nods while you gently brush your thumb along your sore knuckles.

“That’ll happen until it doesn’t,” he tells you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow in a quick, awkward gesture of comfort and then dropping his arm to his side. Short, but not unkind. “Push through. You can do it.”

You nod, knowing that’s probably the very best motivation you’ll get from him. His beliefs, condensed down to quick, stunted sentences, presented with such unwavering surety that they must be truths. Weirdly, it works wonders for you. Maybe it’s just the person it’s coming from.

You drop into stance and then slam your fist into his chest before he’s ready, and Din steps back on impact with a small grunt while you bite your lip to silence your own noise from the pain reverberating up your arm.

“Good,” he huffs nonetheless, rubbing the spot on his chest he’s historically designated as target practice. “Good. You’re… hitting harder than yesterday. That’s… fuck. Good.”

“Good?” You ask lowly, chancing a quick look over at the kid. Who blinks directly back at you, wide-eyed and staring purposefully from his crib. You deflate just a little bit at the sight of him still wide awake, and Din’s fists are clenched by his sides when you turn back to him.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the pent up tightness in his body as you spend the next couple hours throwing more hits at him, different types. Left hooks, right hooks, crosses, jabs, elbow strikes, palm heels. He was absolutely right though—the more you make contact with him, the less you begin to feel the pain, until it eventually feels like nothing at all to you.

But then, at one point, you pull your hardened fist back, aimed and focused directly on that same spot on his chest once more—when suddenly his hand flashes up and he flicks his finger against the lower part of your open ribcage.

He barely puts any strength into it at all—it’s the pressure you’d use to tap someone on the shoulder if you were trying to get their attention, but for some reason the incredibly well-placed reminder throws you. A little fucking touch like that shouldn’t hurt nearly as much as it does, but you nearly tip sideways and have to catch your footing with how dizzy it makes you.

“That’s what’s called a liver shot,” Din tells you calmly, watching you wrap your hand around your ribcage and wince at the lingering pain through gritted teeth. “Keep your arm down like I told you. That’ll happen every time you wanna get lazy with me, little chicken wing.”

You hiss and shake your head a little bit, trying to clear the fog, and then purposefully tuck both arms tight to your sides. But then—

His hand flashes up again and taps the side of your face this time—not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you flinch on instinct and take a step back. “That arm stays up.”

Your quick huff of air is suppressed. Somewhat censored—it doesn’t duly portray the sharp flare of annoyance you experience. You do exactly what he says, however, and keep your arms in position in front of you.

But then you jerk back and sputter angrily when the tips of his fingers lightly connect with your cheek once more. “Stop that! My hands are up!”

“Then why’d you let me do it?” He asks, stepping up as you retreat to poke you square in your chest. “Stop letting me do it.”

He goes to tap your face again, but this time your forearm comes up to swat his away before he can make contact, and he seems pleased for the moment. Din steps back and hits his chest again. “Come on.”

He lets you get in just a few more blows before coming at you again. You smack his hand away and then go to throw another punch, but he’s quick. He cheats—goes for you twice in a row when you’re not expecting it, and taps the vulnerable spot on your side for the second time today. It hits you like a bullet and takes you a second to snap out of the abrupt shot of pain.

“Come on,” Din taunts once more, curling his mismatched fingers at you—one hand leathered and the other tan and bare. He sounds like he’s grinning under the helmet, starting to enjoy this way too fucking much. It makes your blood boil, makes you just stand there like an idiot for a few seconds and fume at his audacity.

Apparently you take too long getting pissed off at him. He comes at you first, going for your side again, but you shove his arm out of the way with a growl. Except his other arm flashes and you react instantly, ducking under the wide, careful swipe aimed for your cheek and then zeroing in on the same exact spot below his ribs he’s been torturing you with all day, the one left wide open while his arm misses its mark.

Except—yours isn’t a tap, or a flick. It’s a hard uppercut.

Air rushes through the modulator as he groans and stumbles sideways, gasping and trying to steady himself. Triumph surges through your veins as you watch him, shaking your hand out at your side to quickly encourage the numbness away, your knuckles not yet used to hitting bone. He clutches his side and shakes the helmet violently in an effort to regain himself, breathing hard through the filter and—

The visor instantly jerks to you and you’re already taking a step back on instinct, adrenaline roaring. He snaps upright as you continue to retreat—until you trip over yourself and plunge to the grass.

A reflection catches in your peripheral, and you whip your head to the side to see the kid completely passed out in his metallic cradle, eyes closed and mouth drooping a bit. The sight shoots pure exhilaration through you, but it’s nothing compared to the thrill of only seeing him there for a split second before chrome shields instantly slide shut over his head.

You look back to Din just in time to see him dropping his gloved hand back down to his side and taking quick steps towards you—and you react without thinking. You scramble over on your hands and knees and then launch forwards before you’re even halfway off the ground, finding your feet as you stumble into a run and hearing footsteps pick up behind you.

Maker, it’s been ages since you’ve run like this. You don’t even know why you’re running—you just do, it just feels like you should. Your body barrels through tall grass and your heart thunders faster than the sound of your pumping legs, louder than the wind whipping through your ears. You don’t know if he purposefully allows you to get this far or if you’re genuinely quick—

—nope. Nope, you’re not quick, because he suddenly bursts into a sprint behind you and gains way too much ground way too quickly. You try to break left as soon as you realize what’s happening, but he’s too fast and hooks an arm around your stomach just before you’re out of reach. Din yanks you back to his chest as he twists around and takes you both to the ground, his shoulder blades slamming down first and softening your landing with his whole body and a grunt, skidding you both to a halt in the endlessly wavy field.

The wind is knocked out of you regardless. You try and struggle off of him but the positioning makes it almost impossible—your abdominal muscles are no match for the strength of his arms wrapped around your stomach, keeping your body pinned tight to his as you wrestle to lift against him in the grass.

“Fight harder,” Din growls raggedly in your ear, and your pussy seizes with need when you feel how rock hard he is against your ass. It encourages you—you make a rough sound towards the sky and then lift against him with all your strength, and your elbow comes down hard into his ribcage. Air whooshes out of him and his arms loosen just slightly. You’re able to wiggle off him and start crawling away, but then he heaves over and snatches at your pant leg—

Which means you pull them down yourself as you keep clawing yourself forward by your arms, raw excitement coursing through your veins, the fabric pulling tight over your ass and then bunching around your thighs. You squeal and flounder and kick at him—but Din just grabs at your ankle and then pins your leg to the ground, pushing up and using your calves to clamor on top of you with brute strength, catching your underwear and ripping them down too. Your heart pounds and your pussy just about floods itself hearing him dig in his pants to pull his cock out, his breath coming heavy through the helmet.

Maker, you’re so fucking ready for it. You keep struggling just because your body is telling you to, but nothing close to the word ‘stop’ ever leaves your mouth, never even comes to mind. You feel wetness slicking your inner thighs as Din grunts and plants an arm next to your head, his bare hand shooting out to hover in front of your face. You flinch—but he keeps it there, palm open in front of your lips in silent expectation.

“Wet or dry,” he snarls when you don’t immediately react. “I don’t give a shit.”

Still, his hand stays right in front of your face long enough to let you make up your mind.

And… not lick it.

After a moment, Din makes a sound that drops another wave of white hot arousal down through your stomach—a furious, growly noise that resembles distorted static passing through the filter. He angles his cock against your opening and when you hear him muttering angrily, you think he’s scolding you for it. Calling you dirty under his breath, promising you you’ll regret saying that in a second. But no—he’s—

“Perfect. Perfect little girl, fucking perfect,” Din hisses darkly, pushing into your soaking entrance without anything but your slick to ease his way. “H-How are you—s-so fuck—ing—”

Oh Maker, you turn your head into the grass and cry out through the delicious, blissful intrusion, pushing your hips back against his—and Din curses as he quickly bottoms out, making sure he lurches fully into you before his hands find out exactly where they want to be. They land on your lower back and he mounts up, pinning your body hard to the ground with almost his full weight. It means you can rip out as much grass with your useless arms as you want—he doesn’t even give you a single moment now that he’s successfully rooted you to the crushed greenery. You bloom for him all the same, as soon as Din pulls out with a wet sound and then starts fucking you strong and steady.

It’s sharp. Biting. Even the pleasure has a hard edge to it, completely paralyzing you even if you could struggle in this position. His hands are pushing down so hard that the ground digs into your tummy and makes his cock angle and slam right into your g-spot each and every time. You want to moan out your ecstasy but he’s wringing the air from your lungs with every shattering swing of his hips back and forth, quickly speeding up as he goes and taking out a full night’s worth of deprivation on you.

“Ngh. Take. Cock. So. Fucking. Good—” Din grits with every mean thrust, the staccato growls of praise getting lost in the echoing, rhythmic clap of his hips. You can’t fucking breathe—the pleasure is too overwhelming, your face is pressed into the grass, he’s got almost all his weight on you. You’re helpless to do anything besides close your eyes, furrow your brows, drop your jaw, and just let him own your body in the middle of this beautiful oasis. The heavy, wild thrusts steal every sense away from you, any ability to think beyond the fractured piece of heaven he’s striking inside you over and over. You don’t even feel him grabbing your asscheeks and spreading them—

Somebody makes a pitiful, breathless whine—it’s you, you realize. You make that sound, because worn leather lands right on the entrance he was denied last night and shamelessly breaches it before anything else can interrupt him.

“Tight,” he hisses, slowly sinking his thumb all the way down to the knuckle while you clench your eyes shut and choke out his name, “—f-fucking tight—”

His cock pulses inside you and you bear down as hard as you can on it in return, trying to get accustomed to being penetrated in two places at once. He doesn’t move his thumb after that—he just keeps it there, deep inside you while he continues wrecking you with the brutal hammering of his hips from behind.

Still—the impropriety of it starts to burn you up, how… dirty it is. Getting the life fucked out of you in broad daylight, in the middle of a wide open field, the thickest finger he has buried deep in your ass, helpless to do anything else besides lay here and let him—you feel yourself start to clamp down, steadily getting tighter and tighter around the intrusions while he grits out hard curses and keeps giving it to you through the rapid build.

His name—you start repeating it into the ground like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. The word scrapes from your throat over and over, and you try to pull at the grass but your hands are clenched into fists and you can’t seem to remember which muscles to use to open them.

“You like this?” You’re able to hear him grit from above you. “Like when I—fuck—when I fuck you l-like this? When I just. H-Hold you down and take—” he chokes, “—take what I w-want—”

You can’t respond, but fuck yes, you do. The kindling spark inside you suddenly flares up and starts to spread through your body like wildfire, tightening, tightening, tightening, but then—

He’s so pent up—Din cums.

Devastatingly early.

The savage thrusts suddenly stutter to a halt and the gasp he takes in sounds like it physically hurts him. Like the orgasm is just ripped out of him. His hold turns to steel on you, as if he thinks you can somehow get away right now, and Din cums deep inside your spasming cunt with a shuddering, desperate groan of your name.

It’s like it drains everything from him—he slumps, just conscious enough to slowly ease his thumb out of your tight asshole, and then he collapses in the grass next to you. You stay there for just a second and shake next to him, muscles feeling like they’re creaking even while just laying on the ground like this, completely motionless.

“Shit—was that—” Din pants, turning and scooting over to you to brush your hair out of your face with his bare hand, “was that… okay? Do you… do you need…?”

You’re still so submissive, still so high on the overwhelming rush of pleasure, your mouth opens and croaks out a response without your permission. “It was good.”

“Yeah?” He huffs, dropping back on the grass and trying to catch his breath. “Good.”

And… it’s true. It was good, it was absolutely fucking amazing. So overpowering, such a hard fuck that you almost don’t think about the fact that you didn’t actually cum from it. The thought doesn’t really even register with you fully, not yet.

Eventually you both push yourselves up, each of you equally lacking in energy, just in different ways. Din looks like he’s drunk—unbalanced and dizzy while he removes his glove and stuffs it into one of his pockets, before carefully tucking his spent cock back in his trousers. In contrast, you’re nothing more than another trembling blade of grass in an enormous landscape of them, flimsy and yielding to the powerful, rippling wind as you attempt to adjust your clothing.

It’s fine, you tell yourself on the slow, quiet walk back. Sex doesn’t always need to end in a fiery orgasm. Sometimes a rough pounding hits the spot, scratches that itch. You feel like you’re a newborn blurg trying to balance your oddly proportioned weight on two noodle legs as Din’s hand patiently guides you from your lower back, and a bright flare of arousal arcs through you feeling how gentle his hold is compared to the way his cum is steadily leaking from your throbbing, aching cunt.

You don’t need to cum every single time he fucks you. It’s fine.

***

Upon returning to the sight of the unbothered, napping kid, you both decide to walk a bit more, and you learn your lesson this time. The sun glints bright against Din’s left side while traveling in this direction, so you stick purposefully to his right the entire time.

In the meantime, you share easy conversation and attempt to regain some semblance of control over your still slightly… restless body. Slowly but surely, your feverish arousal for him dims and fades to the backburner, replaced instead by… softer, quieter feelings. There’s not a solid word for it, not really. If you were mixing on a palette, you’d start out with a base of gentle contentment and then add a big dollop of affection, diluted with silence until it’s a swirling, pastel… color you don’t have a name for, but cherish all the same.

The baby wakes up about halfway through the afternoon hike, and he’s better now too. Eventually your ragtag party finds a place to settle for the night—a small clearing in the field at the edge of a thick forest. There’s a sizable log and boulder situated relatively close together, with a wide open space to make a fire in the center.

Din disappears for a bit to go get some firewood from the looming forest while you entertain the kid; the log is tilted perfectly to allow you both to watch the sunset, and you easily converse with the riveting baby talk as if he’s an absolute genius.

“I’m not so sure about that, honestly,” you tell him diplomatically, receiving nothing but unintelligible babbles in response as he climbs all over you. “Well, no actually, because there’s two major schools of thought concerning that, the first being—”

He pops up in front of your face to interrupt you heatedly and you scoff, rolling your eyes over the loud gibberish. “Look, I’d appreciate it if we could tone down the passive-aggressiveness, okay? If we can’t have a respectful discussi—”

Three green fingers settle over your lips and you gasp at the nerve of him, forced to let him continue to ramble on your lap about absolutely nothing at all, the size of his ego soon growing to match the size of his ears.

“Hear that, shiny?” You turn your head and ask his father upon his eventual return, and Din grunts distractedly as he dumps the firewood down and rummages around in the bag for a lighter. Tilting your head back towards the kid, you prompt him with a raised brow. “Tell him what you just told me.”

The baby bursts into more nonsense, encouraged by your attention, and Din crouches down to set the wood into position in the dusky twilight glow while saying nothing at all, and it somehow manages to pass as listening intently.

It continues to go on like that far longer than you expected it would, the baby apparently having quite the bone to pick about something that’s been on his mind, and one point you have to rest your hand over his mouth so he finally stops babbling. “Hey, that’s not very nice,” you scold him quietly. “I’m sure his face is perfectly normal under there.”

The helmet turns just slightly towards you, unamused while you snort at your own joke for a little bit.

“I didn’t say it,” you remind him after far too long of just celebrating your own hilarity, clearing your throat through the stifled chuckles. “I’m just translating.”

“Oh yeah?” He eventually murmurs, beginning to ignite some of the crumpled twigs at the center of the pile, and if you worked at it, you could probably convince yourself he’s sharing your gentle smile. More muted than yours perhaps, but beautiful and easy on his face, fitting him simply and perfectly. “What did… What did he say I look like?”

You would’ve shot something ridiculous back at him, something snarky and facetious, but you stop short. You catch it—underneath his voice, it sounds… timid, almost. Uncertain. It makes you take just a second in responding.

“Brown eyes,” you tell him after a moment, and Din doesn’t visibly react, just continues to slowly add small branches to kindle the flame. It’s so quiet out here, but it’s different from hyperspace quiet. This quiet is… natural. Warm, and. Free. Fleeting, allowed to roam. In a way that hyperspace just feels compact, stifling. “He said you have… brown eyes. And a… a strong bone structure, striking features. A sharp, chiseled jaw, dark facial hair. And, uh. He also said…”

Din keeps silently feeding the fire until it’s crackling and bright, and then he settles back on his butt next to it, both elbows resting on his knees, not moving the visor towards you but waiting for you to finish regardless.

The stunning backdrop gives way to a stunning surge of bravery.

“He said you make a bunch of faces under there that nobody ever sees,” you say softly, blinking at Din in the fading twilight while the kid sits silently in your lap. “That you’re an open book. Behind a metal wall. And you have a really nice smile, I bet—he bets… he bets you probably do it more often than anyone realizes. And your… your hair starts to curl when you let it grow long, and. And you’re almost guaranteed to be drop dead gorgeous under there, and it’s a real fucking shame that you’ve probably never had anyone tell you it.”

Din tilts his helmet at you, looks at you for a long time—long enough for blood to rush to your cheeks and for you to get fidgety. But when he finally does respond, his voice is gentle through the modulator. “He said that.”

You mhm at him quickly, nodding your head and turning away as casually as you can, heart beating incredibly fast for some reason. “Just the translator.”

A lovely silence soon blankets the both of you, a warmth permeating through to your bones that has nothing to do with the steadily growing fire.

***

A little while later, the kid has retired to his reflective cradle and the dancing flames are the only source of light besides the bright moon hanging directly overhead. Din sits with his back to the large boulder and digs through the bag, pulling out all sorts of food you picked up before leaving the village this morning and handing them to you. Something red and unfocused flashes oddly against the curve of his helmet when he reaches his hand back in, but it’s only for a second—he’s already pushing more food at you and filling your arms with bags of dried meats, fresh fruit, and loaves of bread.

“Stars,” you whisper under your breath, examining the feast in the flickering firelight. “Here, take—take some of this, it’s too much.”

“There’s more in here,” he counters lowly, zipping the bag and dropping it somewhere on the other side of his body. “The kid hasn’t eaten all day. Might crawl away and catch himself a Gungan later if you don’t feed him soon.”

“No, I mean—” you let all the food drop into your lap and start sorting the items, “—you need to eat. What do you want? There’s plenty.”

“I’m not hungry,” he answers, far too quickly to have actually taken a moment to check. “Just give me whatever you two don’t eat when you’re finished, I’ll put it back in the bag.”

Okay, if he’s gonna play it like this, you’ll just have to choose for him. You’ve already dedicated at least two bags of dried meat to the kid, which takes care of him. So, you take an extended moment to methodically find the ripest fruit in the bunch, the one with the most squish to it, and then search for the softest loaf of bread, not caring that Din is silently watching you. You gather both of them in your arms and then pluck three bags of meat from the pile, before depositing all of them back into his lap.

“Eat,” you urge quietly, grabbing another portion of food for yourself, heavy on the fruit. “Don’t inhale it. Please.”

With that, you grab the kid’s food and then scoop the little guy up from his shield with your free arm, standing and walking to the other side of the fire. You carefully plop yourself down with your back purposefully to Din, the kid happily finding a place on your lap with his back to you and reaching six little fingers out for the food.

You start eating, and after a moment, you smile around the large bites of fruit at the sound of metal clinking against stone. The baby, of course, refuses to even open the bag of dried meat you set in front of him, so you roll your eyes and do it yourself, hoping he’ll at least eat like an adult and give you some time to feed yourself. But no—the fifty year old creep demands to be hand fed, and any other day, you wouldn’t have let him get away with it.

Today, you’re just really fucking. Happy.

You’re unbelievably happy. Having spent a few days on this gorgeous planet, your two favorite people in the galaxy with you. It fills your heart with air.

You start out quiet, praying you aren’t bothering Din as he (hopefully) continues to relax and enjoy his food behind you. You begin humming your favorite melody under the sound of the crackling flames, the source of heat burning pleasantly against the curve of your lower back, setting another piece of dried meat into the kid’s cute little mouth and only just slightly annoyed that he refuses to do this himself. Admittedly though, you do love babying him, especially when he shows you his adorable little chompers.

One bite for him, two bites for you. That’s the deal, even though you’re hungry and you deserve way more than double his food intake rate. You try to be quiet enough that your gentle humming will get lost with the fire between you and Din, and he never says anything or tells you to cut it out, so you just continue to let your cheerful mood provide a quiet soundtrack to the moonlit evening.

Even better, you and the kid actually finish snacking before he does, and you’re more than willing to wait for him, thrilled that this is actually happening. It’s so simple, such a throwaway thing, but. Knowing he used to eat his meals as quick as he can and now he’s comfortable enough to just take a second and enjoy it… you don’t know, there’s something inherently meaningful about it, something that you specifically notice. Something about this, about sitting around a fire and sharing a meal together for the first time—even with your back turned to him, it just feels… familial. In a way. More than it’s ever felt before.

You have a little moment. It’s nice. You drop your head back and gaze up at the night sky, in awe of how different the stars look from this side of the galaxy and remembering how far you’ve come. The kid follows suit, leaning back against your tummy and blinking silently at the universe, the star-speckled sky reflecting in his gigantic dark eyes.

He starts to doze after awhile, listening to you hum softly to yourself, but the noise of a helmet finally lifting from the boulder and most likely fitting itself back in its rightful place snaps him awake just enough. The kid pushes off you and waddles over to his dad, and you scoot yourself back over to your little log while he unceremoniously clamors up onto Din’s thighs.

Admittedly, it’s really fucking cute. The visor moves just enough to watch him plop his little green butt down and find a comfy position on his lap, not helping but not preventing the movement either. A heartwarming, silent kind of tolerance hardened men have for innocent little creatures that makes you bite your lip to hide your smile. What a softie.

You sit there in companionable quiet, staring deep into the dancing firelight and losing track of time just a bit. They’re hypnotic, the flames. Crackling and popping, warming just the forward-facing parts of you and nearly burning your cheeks, but you love it. Breathing in the woodsy campfire air, hearing the gentle breeze float through the field surrounding you, the quiet forest waving dark and deep in the distance. The midnight sky stretches long above you and the stars seem… brighter than they were on Arvala-7. They probably aren’t—that planet is practically abandoned and has almost no light pollution whatsoever compared to Naboo, but… maybe it’s because now they feel… in reach. Something you can touch. Interact with. Something you can cover your eyes, blindly point at, and then say—that one. That’s where we should go next.

After awhile—you have no idea how long—you blink your gaze over to Din and startle to find the helmet facing you directly, shamelessly, the kid completely passed out on his lap as the flames reflect in the visor.

Without intending to, you’re already thinking back to earlier today. How quickly he bolted after you, how strong he was bringing you to the ground, pinning you under him and taking what was so rudely denied to him last night.

You didn’t actually finish, and you can still feel it simmering down low. Din’s cum has been steadily leaking from you all day, and while you eventually became successful at blocking out the sensation, it suddenly slams to the forefront of your mind again. The visor pierces deep into you while you start to squirm just a bit against the rough log pressed into your back. You can still feel him when you flex your lower muscles, and you bite your lip and do it repeatedly while blinking at him, waiting, squeezing your thighs together and loving the reminder.

He still hasn’t said anything to you, and you start to get antsy under his stare. Your body works itself up even more, fueled by the flames reflecting in his helmet. After a few more moments of silent tension, you’ve finally had enough.

“Din,” you whisper, trying not to make it sound like a whine and his head quickly lifts when you didn’t even realize it was slightly tipped forward. The helmet rolls back in a drowsy little circle, as if his neck is suddenly remembering the weight burdening it. Embarrassment instantly floods you. “Oh. Shit. I’m so stupid. I’m sor—”

Only he’s already pushing himself up with his free arm, lethargic and drunk with exhaustion, not saying a single word as he sets the conked out kid in the cradle and closes the shield over his sleepy little head with the push of a button.

You bite your lip as he drags himself over to you, swinging a leg behind you and then dropping down without any ceremony, firmly inserting himself between the uncomfortable log and your back. Your butt is shoved forward from the sudden displacement but he’s not done. Din wraps both his arms around you and pulls, dragging you up onto his long torso while his legs close under you and you’re off the ground completely.

Oh Maker, he’s already thousands of times more comfortable than sleeping up against the log would be. He makes the best bed in the galaxy, big and warm and firm under you, letting you stretch out long on him. You lounge on his lap and drop your head to his shoulder, resting your arms on top of his as they drape heavy across your belly.

“Sorry,” he gruffs, voice low and rough through the modulator. The filter rings sharp through your ear when it’s pressed up against his helmet like this. “Just need a few hours. Didn’t… didn't sleep great last night.”

You close your eyes and internally scold yourself, now taking responsibility for his lack of rest for the past two days. Shit. You don’t actively respond, feeling slightly put out, but your body is of another mind altogether. It still continues trundling down the steep slope you shoved it towards earlier, when you stupidly thought he was giving you eyes under the helmet instead of him being passed out cold. You wiggle against him just slightly under the guise of finding a comfortable position, but it has unintentional consequences.

You breathe out a soft sigh when your hips move over his cock, biting your lip at the sensation but trying so hard to stop it in its tracks. He’s exhausted, and he already fucked the life out of you today, there’s no way he’ll want to go again this soon. Except—then he shifts and mmms low in his throat.

“And you,” Din murmurs quietly, reaching a hand down to slowly push under your pants, “need to start being more honest with me.”

“What are you t—oh, stars,” you whisper, your body shuddering as one of his thick fingers slowly dips into your slit.

“Shit, you’re wet,” he groans, sinking his hand down lower to feel remnants of himself still easing its way out of you. Your lashes flutter as your jaw drops, and his cock gets hard against your spine almost immediately. “You’re fucking… soaked. I—I asked if you came and you said yeah,” he whispers low to you, but you shake your head. “Why’d you lie to me abo—”

“No, no—” you protest breathlessly, “—you asked if it was okay, and then I said—”

“You said it was good. It’s not good if you didn’t cum,” he grunts quietly, and the tip of his finger now drawing tight circles over your clit makes it damn near impossible to argue. “I didn’t fuck you right if you didn’t cum. You should be fucked right.”

“Maker, you fuck me exactly how I need to be fucked,” you whimper, tilting your head until your lips are pressed against the curve of his helmet while his hand steadily works under your pants. “And—oh, fuck, that’s… h-however you need to fuck me.”

“Fuck—obedient little thing…” he huffs, starting to rub harder over your clit. “What I need is for you to cum. From now on, you’ll tell me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” you moan into the beskar, your eyes fluttering back at the slowly building pressure.

“Say, ‘yes, Din,’” he breathes.

“Yes, Din,” you dutifully repeat, lifting your hips up against his hand, and he groans softly through the modulator.

“Say, ‘Din, I need something to cum on’,” he whispers.

You’re delirious, you don’t even catch it before most of it is already out of your mouth. “Din, I need something to c—” you cut off but he’s already reaching down between your bodies to ease his cock out, before yanking your pants down your ass just enough to position himself up against your entrance.

He rocks his hips up and he slides in easier than ever before, and you… don’t know what you’re expecting, but he surprises you nonetheless. He doesn’t start thrusting into you at all. Even though he’s rock hard inside you, thick and pulsing and breaking you open, he doesn’t move a single inch. He just keeps himself there, continuing to rub circles around your clit and giving you exactly what he prompted you to ask for.

Something to cum on.

Your body tenses and squeezes him, and Din shushes you before you realize you were making noise. His free hand comes up to settle tight over your mouth and guide you turn your head away from his helmet. At first you think it’s because your heavy breathing was probably fogging the visor up, but no—his fingers leave your pussy for a split second and you hear him maneuver himself out of it. The hollow noise it makes thunking to the ground is beginning to become your favorite sound in this universe.

But then of course, Din buries his face into your neck and starts talking again, whispering low praises behind your ear with that bassy, dark chocolate rasp, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. His fingers return to your cunt to slowly rub your clit and his cock throbs hotter than sin inside you, building your pleasure into a strong, slow crescendo.

You start to whimper unintentionally, but his hand is wrapped tight around your mouth, muting and confining the desperate sounds to your throat. His finger presses down harder on your clit and his cock flexes inside you.

“That’s it, sw—sweet girl,” Din mutters, his voice interrupted by his own staccato breaths and tight gasps the longer he talks you through it, the longer he keeps himself perfectly still while engulfed in your drenched, fluttering cunt. “That’s—that’s it, I can feel it c-coming. Fuck—make it good for me, give me a good one—”

His words shove you right over a cliff you didn’t even realize was there until you were dangling over the steep drop for an extended moment like a cartoon. Everything squeezes around him unbearably tight—your hands dig into his forearms, your back arches up against him, your pussy constricts his thick cock until you feel like you’re hurting the both of you with it, and Din’s breath catches next to your ear while you’re both suspended in thin air for a split second—

—before you’re convulsing in pure bliss, flooding his cock with cum while he rasps out, “good girl,” into the crook of your neck and rocks his hips up into yours. The few heavenly inches of movement hits something jaw-dropping inside you and nearly makes you scream against his palm, launching your body even higher into mind-bending rapture. Fucking Maker, you cum hard for him, on him, around him. You downright drown his cock in your pleasure, suffocate it and work out the aching tightness in your pussy all over him until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore.

“Mmm…” Din murmurs quietly, continuing to circle your swollen clit hard through the shattering aftershocks. His voice is deep and sinful and vibrates your whole back with its frequency, but something underneath it also sounds as if he’s considering, before he seems to land on an answer to a wordless question he just asked himself. “…One more.”

And, like the fucking Maker himself commanded it, another blazing hot wave of fire suddenly rips you apart and sends you spasming rhythmically around the throbbing cock buried inside you once again. This one wrings you completely dry, robbing you of every sense. The ragged whine you make behind his hand must be too loud—his fingers quickly tighten around your jaw and lock down, keeping you as still as possible while you give him everything you have to give.

Eventually the sparks die out and you’re left a shell of what you once were, clamping down hard on him and shuddering your bliss at the night sky. He lays there silently under you, holding you as you fall back down to reality. Your breathing is a mess and so is everything below your waist, and your whole body jerks when Din carefully slides his hand from your pussy and rubs gently over your thighs, your tummy, your chest.

“That was…” you croak out, trying to remember how to speak, “ … g-good.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses against the side of your neck. You can hear the gentle grin he’s hiding from you, knowing he completely incapacitated you.

“But what about—” you start to protest, when Din’s teeth sink into your flesh and your pussy seizes up tight around him, making him choke a hoarse little groan into your skin.

After a moment, he eases his throbbing cock out of you, and he resets your clothing while you whimper in distress. “Go to sleep,” Din murmurs, before softly kissing your neck once more, and your eyes slowly droop against your will. Fuck, his body beats a king size mattress any day of the week. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

He…

He isn’t.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #smut #reader insert #fanfic #star wars

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powdermelonkeg · 3 years

Text

Missing Links: A New Hyrule

This story has a prequel called Secrets in the Breeze! Go check it out!

My Missing Links

Wind took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the breeze as blew by. It had been awhile since he'd smelled salt in the air.

It was good to be back near the ocean.

One by one, the other heroes came through the portal, which shut behind them with a blue flash. Hyrule looked at Wind curiously. "Do...you recognize this place?"

"Nope!" Wind spun around with a bright smile. "But we’re near the sea! That’s always a good sign!”

“I beg to differ,” Legend muttered, taking note of his surroundings.

It wasn’t much. They stood atop a cliff that overlooked the sea-bordering countryside, with a sparse collection of villages tucked into the nooks of the nation. But what caught the pink-haired hero’s attention most was the network of golden roads that stretched across the land, leading towards a grand tower far inland.

In the shadow of the massive building stood a castle; one the young man immediately recognized, which threw the whole tower into proportion.

It was...big.

“So, here’s the plan.”

The redheaded man slapped a map against a tree, stabbing it through with his hairpin to keep it in place. He snapped his fingers, and the circuits of his prosthetic hand lit up in timeshift blue. “We came in here,” he said, drawing a glowing X over a place in the north of the Forest Realm. “The loser that stole my control slate ran off, and we got lost chasing him. So now we’re down here.” He circled Whittleton Village.

Fox watched the hero explain with wide eyes, fixated on his glowing fingertips.

“The guy could be anywhere,” he continued. “HOWEVER, if he knows how to calibrate it right, he probably has a map updated on the slate. And if he knows what the slate does, which he has to in order to pull a stunt like he did twice in a row, then he’d head for Hyrule Castle.” Taps drew an arrow towards the castle and tower in the distance. “We’ve already lost a day just getting out of Lost Woods. He’s probably way ahead of us if we travel on foot. But if we use one of the minecart guardians people drive around here...” He traced his finger along the minecart tracks that stretched across the land. “We can probably beat him there, as long as we catch one within the next couple hours.”

He spun to face his companion, clicking the drawing rune off. “Any questions?

Fox’s hand shot in the air. “Mr. Link? How does your arm work?”

Taps gave him a flat look. “Timeshift-powered output core.” He gave his prosthetic a solid pat. “Sheikah tech. Not what we were talking about. Any relevant questions?”

“...Well...” Fox rubbed the back of his head. “The...guardian things...they take passengers, right?” He looked at the hero with big eyes. “So, don’t they charge rupees?”

Taps paused. He hadn’t considered that. “...We can stow away.”

“Absolutely not.” The Hytopian put his hands on his hips sternly. “These people have lives to live outside of us. It’s wrong to steal labor from them.”

“They’re not GONNA have lives to live if this timeline gets screwed with by my slate!”

“Then we should get money fast, shouldn’t we?”

Taps’ eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms. “I didn’t exactly bring my wallet with me when I got yanked through time and space. You plan on selling your extra clothes for it?”

Fox gasped in horror, hugging his bulky luggage. “Never!”

“Well then. Not that big a problem, is it?”

Fox bit his lip. “...Give me one hour,” he finally said. “If I can’t earn us enough rupees for a trip by then, then we can talk about stowing away.”

Taps rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He held up a metal finger. “You’ve got one hour.”

Legend walked along the strange track, examining the golden triangles beneath his feet as he followed the rails. The power in them tugged at his attention, no matter how hard he tried to look away.

What were they?

“Hey.” An elbow dug into his shoulder. “Hyrule to Link, are you there?”

Legend side-eyed the offender crossly. “No.”

“Well then,” Warriors replied, smirking. “I guess that means I get your share of lunch.”

“You touch my apple pie and you find out exactly what my medallions do.”

“Ouch. Touchy.” He followed Legend’s line of sight down to the ground. “Must be an interesting road.”

Legend nodded, looking back at the tracks. “They’re...powerful,” he said, gesturing to them. “They radiate magic, and they feel...Hylian. Like they’re alive.”

Twilight shuddered. “I certainly hope they’re not,” he said, giving Epona a pat. “The last thing I want to worry about is living roads.”

WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The Chain jumped in unison at the loud sound, attention forcefully torn from the Spirit Tracks at their feet.

Off in the distance, blurred by a shimmer of heat, a steam-powered machine charged down the tracks at breakneck speed. With a frown, Twilight whipped out his Hawkeye mask to get a better look.

It was HUGE; it had to be at least as tall as three horses standing on top of each other. As it rounded the bend and headed towards them, he got a good look at its segments—a house, a tray, and a cannon?

Twilight squinted, adjusting the mask’s scope. “What in Farore’s name...”

“What is it?” Time asked, raising an eyebrow.

“...Some kind of mechanical caravan.” Twilight concluded after a moment of thought, lowering the mask. “And it’s not stopping. We should move.”

WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

“NOW.”

Quickly, the group got off the tracks, giving them a WIDE distance.

As the steam-powered beast approached, it let out a shrill, screeching noise, causing the heroes to clamp their hands over their ears in pain until it finally rolled to a stop with a pressurized hiss.

Time slowly lowered his hands, shaking off an involuntary shiver at the redead-esque noise. “Everyone alright?”

Hyrule groaned, rubbing his ears sorely. “I think I finally feel bad for DIgdogger...”

“We’re fine,” Four answered. “I’m going to have a headache for the next week and a half, though...”

“Tell me about it...what even WAS that?” Wind asked, scrunching up his eyes as he popped the pressure in his ears.

“‘Hoy!”

The seafarer suddenly snapped to attention at the familiar greeting.

“’Hoy!”

Link leaned out of the engine cab and waved to the band of...soldiers.

They had to be soldiers, right? They had swords and armor. Maybe there was a ceremony or something coming up.

One of the group, a young-looking boy in blue, waved back to him. “‘Hoy, stranger!”

“Everything alright?” Link called. “You look kind of...lost.”

The group looked between each other. “We kind of are,” another one said, a heavily-scarred one with a long ponytail. “Can you tell us where we are?”

“Just west of Whittleton. Where are you trying to go?”

“Hyrule Castle town,” the most heavily armored one replied. “Is it far from here?”

Link looked the group over critically. “...Not really. It’s a 20 minute ride by train. Can I ask who you guys are?”

“An orchestra!” The kid that had initially greeted him exclaimed.

“...An orchestra.”

“Yep!” He pulled out his baton. “See, I’m a conductor, and he’s got a harp, and he’s got an ocarina...”

“What are you playing, then?” Link said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-”

“Song of the Hero,” the friendly-looking one in the white cape supplied. “It’s a classic.”

“...Right.” Link held back a sigh, feeling like this was going to be trouble. He could just leave them...

...But this was Bulblin territory. He’d feel bad.

He could just tell the guard captain to be on the lookout once he got to Hyrule Castle. That’d keep them in line, right?

“...Do you guys want a lift?”

The train ride was such a change from walking everywhere. Granted, it had been difficult to convince Epona to climb into the passenger car with them, and Legend was sharing a VERY uncomfortable stare with a fluffle of rabbits gathered at his feet. But, for the vast majority of the heroes, it was a chance to rest their legs and watch the scenery fly by.

And it was incredible.

The only comparable thing Wind had seen in his travels was speeding around on Linebeck’s steamboat, and even that required him to be focused on not running into barrels and sandbars.

This, though? It was smooth. The train ran in a straight line, zooming by acres and acres of land without so much as a bump in the wrong direction, with endless ocean through one side of the car and towering mountains through the other. Thinking fast, he pulled out his pictobox and snapped a few shots as he went along.

When the train made its first stop, the screeching sound was notably more bearable through the barriers of the cabin walls. It still made Hyrule wince, but it was a far cry from the veritable scream they’d had to endure before.

As it finally came to a full stop, the engineer that’d picked them up peered into the cabin. “Nobody get up yet, we’re not here. I’m just picking up some more passengers.”

Time raised an eyebrow. “You do this kind of thing often?”

The stranger gave him a deadpan look. “Nope. Never in my life.” Without another word of explanation, he shut the door.

Time stared after him, taken aback.

Had he just....been sassed?

A moment later, the back door of the cabin opened, and two new passengers entered.

“I told you I could pay fare!”

“Yeah, yeah. Still think we could have saved money.”

They sat in the back seat, bickering quietly and, to Legend’s relief, attracting the fluffle away from him. As the train resumed its travel down the road, he found himself listening in to their conversation.

“-plan once we get there?”

“We start looking. Duh.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Look, if someone uses it, we’ll know. It’s not exactly an easy thing to- ...hide.”

Curious at what had made the newcomer trail off, Legend looked back at them over his shoulder.

The redhead—the one who had ended the conversation—was staring at Wild in shock.

The pink-haired one, on the other hand, Legend recognized instantly. His head spun; the Chain had only just gotten the means to time travel themselves, how had the Hytopian guy with the friendship tokens-?!

Feeling Legend’s gaze on him, Fox looked up, unnerved, then froze in shock as he came to the same conclusion Legend did.

I know you. You shouldn’t BE here.

Suddenly, the train heaved, throwing everyone out of their seats. The once-smooth ride came to an abrupt halt as the train derailed, skidding across the raw ground with a terrifying SCREECH before grinding to a halt and tilting precariously. Twilight and Wild both scrambled to grab Epona and brace her as the car finally tipped, landing on its side with a crash.

Silence hung in the air for one brief, panic-laced second.

Then, in an instant, the redheaded stranger shoved his companion out the back door and vaulted over the cabin seats, barreling into Wild and leaping for the front door. As Wild was abruptly yanked out of his daze, he spotted the Sheikah Slate in the thief’s hand before the redhead made his escape.

Fox stared at Taps as he ran outside. “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up, I’m focusing!” Taps said, frantically clicking through the slate. “Where is it, this layout is atrocious-”

“Did you just steal the-”

“He had my control slate!”

“They had SWORDS!”

“So do we!” Taps stopped on a screen, and sighed in relief. “Finally!” With a blue flash, he summoned his Divine Beast, wasting no time in clambering on board. “Come on, get on!”

“But my clothes-”

“HEY!”

The two time travelers looked over as Wild emerged from the train car to shame mankind, eyes blazing with fury as he raced towards them.

Fox squeaked in alarm, quickly leaping onto the Divine Beast and clinging to Taps. “Drive, DRIVE!”

Wild did his best to give chase as the duo sped off, but his mortal Hylian legs couldn’t keep up with the ingenuity of Sheikah technology. Before his very eyes, two complete strangers fled into the distance with his Divine Beast.

Link picked himself up off the ground, clutching his ribs in pain as he raced back towards his toppled train.

He had so many people on board, he had a horse back there. If any of them were hurt—

Without a moment’s thought for himself, he threw the cabin door open. “Is everyone okay?!”

Everyone jolted, reaching for their weapons in panic, when suddenly, there was a yelp of pain from the back seat.

Sky clutched his stung hand as he dropped the Master Sword, staring at the engineer in shock.

“You’re...one of us.”

#i. am not revising this any more.#i'm aware that it's not my best work but this was difficult.#AAAAAAAAAAAA #anyways. enjoy #missing links chapter 1!#for those unaware #taps is the hero from the botw tapestry #fox is the faux hero from triforce heroes #and the engineer...yeah. spirit tracks #loz #zelda #spirit tracks #missing links is FINALLY #FINALLY UP #botw #linked universe #i need to practice more #the chain gets robbed #fanfiction

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librarianandguardian · 3 years

Text

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

#fate the winx saga #saul silva #saul silva x reader #sky of eraklyon #fate riven #farah dowling #ben harvey #saul silva imagine

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Junkyard

PG-13 oneshot: semi-angst into fluff. Thanks so much for reading!! I would love any advice or critiques, and please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in anything :)

Title: Junkyard

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word Count: 2170

Summary: Bobby’s a little too overprotective of you with Dean. Sam is very much a younger brother about it.

gif not mine! please let me know if you know whose it is so I can give them credit!

Dean’s hand slipped under your t-shirt, his fingers ice cold from the Sioux Falls October night. You gripped his collar with one hand, the other running through his gelled hair. The tip of his nose was cool against your cheek as his lips crashed into yours, and you nipped at him with your tongue. He answered in kind, pulling you into him. Your jeans slid on the trunk of the old junk car under the pressure until you were ground up against Dean’s belt where he stood. He slipped his other hand into your hair, gripping the base of your neck and exposing your throat before kissing and sucking hungrily. You groaned involuntarily and could feel Dean smile into your soft skin. Sliding down his chest, you gripped his belt buckle and flicked it open with one hand, your turn to grin when Dean gasped softly.

He leaned into you, the hand on your head lowering you urgently but gently onto the trunk. The exposed skin on your back screamed at the freezing cold metal but you didn’t care, trying to yank him over you like a blanket while he tore at his jacket.

“Boy if you don’t get that poor girl inside I’ll tan your ass and use it as a coin purse! It’s damn near freezing out! You must think I’m pretty goddamn stupid and I’ll tell you: I was born at night but it wasn’t last night!” Bobby yelled from the house, his voice carrying over the salvage yard.

“Fuck,” Dean pulled away to whisper through gritted teeth. He pressed his forehead into you, waiting for a beat while you both caught your breath before leaning back to offer a hand. You took it and hopped down from the perch of the trunk. Feeling in the dark for any major bumps, you adjusted your ponytail and yanked your shirt down to meet the waist of your jeans. Dean re-buckled his belt and held out his arm so you could go first back to Bobby’s house.

Coming through the door, the first thing you saw was Sam sitting at the kitchen table. He smiled up at you slyly without raising his head, and you were thankful that the cold air had already flushed your cheeks. Bobby was a few steps behind him, thankfully looking past you at Dean. If looks could kill, Dean would be burning alive.

“How was your, uh, walk?” Sam asked with the kind of smug grin only he could deliver.

“Fine,” you said briskly, adding a tight lipped nod. Sam looked past you to Dean, whose smile was popped open at the edge by his tongue in his cheek. You shot him a warning look and he closed his mouth.

“Great,” Dean added.

Bobby slammed down the casserole dish he was holding with enough force that you listened for the Pyrex to crack. “Here you go then,” he said, even more gruffly than normal.

Dinner was so awkward and silent that it made you sick to your stomach. You tried your best to look only down at your plate, the glances you stole showing Sam’s barely contained glee at Dean having been caught out and Bobby’s barely contained disdain at it. When you finally finished your plate, you grabbed all the empty dishes within reach and headed to the kitchen sink with them. “Thanks for dinner, Bobby! I’m beat, I’ll see you all tomorrow!” you threw over your shoulder as you went, feeling for all the world like a frog trying to climb out of a near-boiling pot.

“Not so fast, kid,” Bobby barked. You set the dishes down quietly in the sink and marched back to your seat at the table. “We need to have a talk.”

Sam sat still, but you could tell from the expression on his face that he would’ve been exploding out of his chair with schadenfreude if he could.

“I’ll leave you guys alone, then. Goodnight! Dinner was great, Bobby,” Dean said, playing dumb in an effort to escape himself. Bobby slapped one open palm on the table hard and the older Winchester returned to his seat. Dean had been keeping it together remarkably well, but the color drained from his face as he settled.

Bobby sat silently for a few agonizing moments before speaking. “Now. I know you boys haven’t had a lot of experience living with a young woman before—”

“Oh. My. God.” Sam said under his breath excitedly. Bobby glared at him.

“But I will be damned if you plan on treating this house like some sleazy frat basement!” he yelled, building steam. You were absolutely mortified, unable to even look at Dean or Sam. “Now get your dumb asses up and go to bed. Don’t make me give this speech again.” His voice was low and grim as you got up and pushed your chair in. Sam and Dean got up too, but you heard Bobby growl a dark “sit” to Dean as you and Sam walked away. You felt a tinge of guilt at leaving him alone, but it was nothing compared to the dread that fell over you at the thought of sitting at the table a second longer.

Sam followed you up the stairs. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “You think he’s going to kill him?” You knew he was joking, but were scared at what Bobby was going to say to Dean anyway. It was ridiculous, for three adults to be wrapped up so much in the opinion of a man who wasn’t the real father of any of you, and yet you felt exactly like a reprimanded child.

You changed quickly into a big old t-shirt and worn cotton sweatpants, padding down the hallway in a messy bun to wash your face and brush your teeth when Bobby started yelling. Sam shot his head out of the bathroom curiously and came to the stair landing with you to listen.

“This is not a random girl in some town you’re passing through, Dean!”

Dean responded too quietly for you and Sam to hear.

“That’s how you treat her with respect? Slip her out the back door to fool around in a damn junkyard?!” You heard a crash that you thought sounded like one of the chairs being tossed to the ground. When Bobby spoke again he was quieter; Sam and you leaned in to hear him.

“If you make that girl shed one tear, boy, so help me God you’ll be wishing you were back in Hell.”

Sam sucked air through his teeth, wincing. You realized your mouth was hanging open, stunned both that Bobby could cut that deep and that he seemed not to trust you to protect yourself at all. You weren’t stupid; of course you knew Dean’s reputation. On some level, you were worried he might live up to it. But for now he was gorgeous and it was a little lonely staying with Bobby up in Sioux Falls. You were having fun, and the fallout was for you to beat yourself up about in the future, not now.

When you heard movement in the kitchen, you darted into the bathroom and Sam tried to head down the stairs casually to the day bed in the library. You brushed your teeth and washed your face brusquely, making it back to the spare bedroom without seeing Bobby head to the other bedroom upstairs. Pulling the old comforter over you on the old brass bed, you fell asleep fitfully.

You woke with a start feeling like you were being watched. Based on the dim glow creeping through the slats between your blinds, it was at least a few hours after you went to sleep. When you scanned the room, Dean’s silhouette filled the doorframe.

“What’re you doing?” you whispered urgently.

“I wanted to see if you were up,” he answered, stepping into the room so that the moonlight illuminated his face. The shape of his full lips made you ache, the shadow of his jaw onto his neck begging to be touched. You realized as always that his socked feet were his only concession to the hour; his “pajamas” were his still-belted jeans with a t-shirt.

“I’m up now, what’s going on?” Dean kept took a few more steps into the room toward you, biting his lip slowly. You got up to your elbows, the old bed’s springs creaking underneath you. “What’re you doing?” you repeated. “Bobby’s going to kill us,”

“I think you mean Bobby’s going to kill me,” he smiled, half of his face obscured by shadow. He was standing at the foot of your bed now, fiddling with the hem of a blanket. “Seems pretty interested in protecting you from the big bad womanizer.”

“Yeah, I heard some of that,” you offered cautiously.

“Figured you and Sam would be listening. Hear everything?”

“Not everything, but enough. So come on, don’t poke the bear. Go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You laid back down, tucking the comforter up under your chin. Dean didn’t move.

“You don’t want me here?”

You smiled in the dark. “Dean, Bobby’s room is like 15 feet away.”

“Guess we’ll have to be quiet then.”

Dean rounded the corner of the bed and leaned down, grazing your lips with his. He knew what he was doing, and you could only hold out for a second before greedily snatching the back of his head and sliding your mouth onto his. The bed groaned in response to the extra weight and you pulled away sharply, alarmed at the noise.

Dean grabbed the extra blankets you kept at the foot of your bed for extra cold nights in Bobby’s drafty Midwestern house and spread them on the floor in a sort of picnic-nest before spinning around and picking you up off the bed, comforter and all. You put a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling as he lowered you both down onto the blankets. “Better?” he asked as you nodded into his chest. Warmth came off of him through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, seeping into you like melting honey. Easing down until your chests pressed together, he kissed you deeply and softly without any of the urgency he had in the junkyard. You relished in the roughness of his hands and stubble on you as he took his time exploring your lips and neck. Dean pulled away to take a breath, leaning back on his knees.

“Wait,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” you spit out, scared he might’ve heard something in the hallway.

Dean looked down at you and the shadows caught all the angles in his face. He looked into your eyes and then out the window, biting his lip.

“I’m not just messing around,” he finally said. There must’ve been enough moonlight for him to see your face because Dean pursed his lips in frustration. “I mean what Bobby said is not true. Or maybe it was before, but not now, not with you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

“Dean, I know what this is, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about ‘sparing my feelings’ or whatever,” you replied, touching his chest. He grabbed your wrist.

“Sparing your feelings? No, that’s what I mean. I want it to be more than…this,” he said, gesturing to the blankets surrounding you on the floor. “I just, I want to be, like, with you,” he mumbled.

“Are you serious?” you replied, sitting up.

“I, uh, I mean yeah,” he said, leaning back onto his heels. “If you want to.” Seeing Dean shy and nervous like a teenager this way was unusual, and it caught you off guard.

“Uh, wow,” you breathed, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t know you like, dated, or whatever.”

He let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I guess I don’t really, huh?”

“So this is you asking me out?”

“Yeah. But only if you’re going to say yes.” The half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth looked more like the Dean you knew.

“And if I did, would that make this our first date?” you asked, pulling at a loose thread from your sweatpants’ hem.

“I was thinking dinner or something, but I mean, sure, why not?”

“Hmmm, bummer,” you thought aloud with a smile. “Thought you’re not supposed to have sex until the third date.”

Without Dean’s hand behind your head it would’ve cracked against the floorboards with the force of him suddenly slamming into you, but instead you were enveloped in his kiss and the scent of leather and pine that always floated around him. You giggled into his lips when you felt Dean grin against you, and he pulled away a few centimeters. Your breath mixed as he asked, “That’s a yes, right?” It was all you could do to nod as you melted into each other, turning into a tangle of muffled little laughs, discarded clothes, and heavy, warm breaths.

ETA: Did you know there’s a Junkyard, Part 2? Might be worth checking out 😉

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass, @akshi8278, @dream-believe-and-love

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fic #spn #spn one shot #spn oneshot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean fluff #dean one shot #dean winchester oneshot #reader insert #dean x you #dean winchester x you

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am-i-a-writer-yet · 3 years

Text

TW: migraine, vomiting, oral sex

Reposting this on mobile now I’ve figured out how to do a read more! I don’t specifically mention Henry Cavill but he’s definitely who I was picturing when I wrote this!

It hadn’t been long since you’d moved and started your new job, and of course, the added stress meant that the migraines had come back with a vengeance.

He’d been the first person to come across you with your head in the toilet, sweating and as pale as a ghost. He’d picked you up gently and put you in his car, and taken you home.

He’d been to your place just once before, and it wasn’t that far from his. Thankfully with the new job and increased paycheck you’d had the foresight to hire a maid - you were messy. Knickers on the floor and forgetting to do your laundry messy.

As soon as he took the key off you and opened the door, you found the energy to sprint to the bathroom and vomit again.

Eventually, the wave of nausea passed, and you registered him leaning against the doorframe to the open bathroom, arms crossed and a furrow in his brow.

“Sorry,” you apologised weakly.

“You don’t need to apologise,” he said quietly. “Can I do anything?”

“Water,” you rasped, and he headed to the kitchen to get you a glass while you crawled over to the cabinet under the sink for your meds. Stupidly, you’d forgotten to put them in your work bag. This could have all been avoided, you thought crossly, although it made the stabbing pressure behind your left eye worse.

He came back with a glass of refreshingly ice-cold water for you and raised his eyebrows as he saw the number of different painkillers you were taking.

“That’s… quite a cocktail.”

You shoved the prescription at him that your doctor had written, and his eyebrows almost disappeared into his dark curly hair.

“Is this… normal?”

You sighed, leaned back into the wall and closed your eyes. You could feel the effects after a few minutes, and you could tell you were starting to slur your words and not make sense. You felt him gently lift you up again, and the last thing you registered before you fully passed out was the sensation of being tucked into your soft bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark when you came around. Thankfully the explosive pain in your head had passed, and all that was left was the horrible taste of vomit in your mouth and sheer exhaustion.

You could hear the quiet noise of the TV, and when you went to investigate, his feet were up on the sofa and he was burritoed into your blanket with sleeves. He was playing on your Switch, and you smiled softly.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “Did I wake you? Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Thanks for bringing me home. Sorry you had to see me puke. Are you at least unlocking better characters on Mario Kart?”

He grinned that cheeky half-grin that made you melt… not that he knew that. “Yeah.” You headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth, and he followed you after a few moments with another ice-cold glass of water. You drank it with a moan of appreciation. Migraines always made you dehydrated.

You caught sight of your reflection in the mirror and grimaced. You were a sweaty mess.

“Can I run you a bath?”

You stared at him in shock.

“Uhhhh, sure?” Was this really happening?

He shooed you out of the bathroom and got to work. Fifteen minutes later he let you in.

It was definitely worth it. He had lit several tea lights and lavender incense. Steam was rising up from the bath and there were a few bubbles from the soap he’d poured in.

He left to give you some privacy. You pulled the shower curtain across and moaned as you sank into the heavenly water.

“Did you leave the door open?” he chuckled, and you could see his shadow leaning on the frame again.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your eyes closed and letting the scents wash over you. “Can you look after me every time I have a migraine?”

You heard him laugh and after a moment, you heard him sit on the floor.

You passed the time laughing and trying to flirt with him, but you were being a bit too subtle and he wasn’t getting the hint. Eventually, the water started to cool off, and you shifted.

“Um, I’m getting out now.”

“Right,” he said, standing up and closing the door to give you some privacy.

You took your time drying off, enjoying the feel of your fluffiest towel. You checked your reflection again in the mirror. You still looked exhausted, but some colour had come back into your face. You removed what was left of your makeup and brushed your teeth again.

You exited the bathroom wrapped in your towel, momentarily forgetting that you hadn’t brought clean pyjamas from your bedroom, and came across him changing your bedsheets.

He looked like a deer trapped in headlights. “I thought it would be nice?” he trailed off, biting his lip in an unbelievably sexy way that was almost definitely unintentional on his part.

Or maybe he knew that he ruined women with his infamous devilish grin and cheeky charm.

You smiled at him and changed into some short pyjamas while his back was turned.

He’d chosen your softest bed sheets, and you wriggled under them appreciatively before he’d even finished making the bed. He laughed at you.

“You can stay if you want,” you offered casually, hoping he’d say yes.

He glanced at the clock; it was 2:38 am.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, stretching in a yawn. His t-shirt rode up a little to show his abs and you hoped that he didn’t catch you staring.

“I’m uhh… a cuddly sleeper,” he warned, as he removed his shirt and your heart almost stopped beating. “Even the dog gets annoyed with me spooning him.”

You giggled and allowed him to wrap his strong arms around you. He’s incredibly warm, and you sigh happily and sink into his chiselled chest.

After a moment you felt his lips on your forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, and you couldn’t help but press a kiss onto his chest. His free arm tilted your chin up, and he kissed you on the lips, softly at first, but slowly giving in to passion.

When you broke apart to catch your breath he rested his forehead on yours. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since you started work.”

“Really?” you were surprised.

He smirked. “How else was I supposed to respond to the beautiful woman running past me on her first day screaming expletives? You’re very hard to not notice.”

You grimaced at the memory. You were certain that you were going to get sacked on your first day. You’d never handled stress very well.

He resumed kissing you impatiently, and your hand wove its way into his soft curls, while your other hand ran down his perfect chest. You’d never particularly been into overly muscled guys, but then you’d also never met a literal Adonis before. His tongue nudged your lips apart, his teeth biting your lower lip and making you moan. His warm hands were not content in just holding you, they were running all over your body, squeezing your ass, your nipples, removing your clothes, grabbing your thighs.

You’d always hated your thighs, but he seemed to really enjoy squeezing them, leaving a hot trail of kisses upwards, nipping here and there. Whenever he made you gasp he looked up with that smile again, and you knew that he knew exactly what he did to you.

He was a muscled guy, and you were a curvy girl, yet somehow you fit together perfectly. He teased you with his fingers first, before adding his tongue and chuckling into you when you whined desperately. He headed straight for the G spot with no messing around, and he’d turned you into such a mess that you came within seconds.

He groaned. “Fuck you taste good.”

You took a swipe of yourself off his lips with your finger and sucked it.

Within half a second his tongue was in your mouth again, all the previous playfulness gone, a guttural growl coming from his throat. You felt how much he wanted you pressed against your legs, his knees nudging yours apart, and you laughed.

“Oh no,” you told him dangerously. “Now it’s your turn.”

He allowed you to push him onto his back and pressed kisses down his body, leaving bite marks, playing a little rougher than he had with you.

His underwear looked like it was about to break, he was straining so hard against it, so you thought you’d be kind and help him out of his predicament.

Your predictions had been right. He was incredibly gifted.

You gently ran your fingers over the tip and felt him shiver. He was completely at your mercy, just as you had been at his a few moments before. There was no way you could fit all of him in your mouth, but you could still have a lot of fun with him.

You pressed light kisses from the tip down to the very base, and tantalisingly slowly you ran your tongue the entire way back up, all the while massaging his head with your fingers. You could feel just how much he was enjoying himself, and your fingers were already wet. His fingers laced themselves in your hair, not holding you down or in place, but letting you know that he liked what you were doing. When you reached the very tip, you sank down as far as you could and began to tease him even more.

“If you keep going, I’m going to come in an embarrassingly short time,” he confessed in a growl.

You chuckled, still with your mouth full, and he couldn’t help but buck into your mouth.

“Fuck.”

Every time he lost control you couldn’t help but moan, which made him lose control more in return, and all in all, it wasn’t long before you could taste him. Looking him dead in the eye, you swallowed.

“That’s one each.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #smut #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x ofc

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yinyanchan · 3 years

Text

NSFW Black/Reader

This is an excerpt from a Fanfiction called Bone-ifide Goods that hasn’t been posted yet. Basically Reader is in a tight spot and is helplessly trying to take care of her niece and nephew. After her sister in law up and left/disappeared with insurance money when it was announced Readers brother was missing in action and its assumed he is dead. Desperate for work until financial aide can help with her two new mouths to feed and literally on her last few dollars. She finds Bone-ifide goods, a grocery that is run by all the AU skeleton brothers Undertale, Underswap, Underfell, Horrortale, Swapfell. They help reader get on her feet as well as a job. This was going to be an explicit rating one. (I know I’m partial to swapfell sans but I adore him so he got the first sex scene.) Feature below under the cut. WARNING THIS IS NSFW. Biting, knotting, public sex. Writing mature themed things is still very new to me so I’m posting this to get a feel. I am open to critiquing!

You guessed right.

Black had been reading your cues and he had been salivating for this moment.

Looking away shyly as he closes the cooler door behind him… eyeing you ravenously.

It had been awhile for you to have some meaningful adult time since the kids have been with you. No walks of shame from late night drinking. Nothing to quench the burning lust you've started to develop for these amazing skeletons.

Noticing that some of them have been dropping a few hints that they might be interested in you too.

You decided to drop a few seductive hints to Black. It was a slow day so Orange had Blue manning the register while you two stocked the floor leaving you by yourselves for the most part.

Now here you were about to have sex with a skeleton co-worker. So scandalous… you could be fired for this but wouldn't he as well? Hard to know and this was a family run business and all. Your hormones are raging and as he quickly closes the gap and throws his arms around you… you weren't going anywhere. His mouth on yours making the cooler almost steam from the heat your bodies were already prepped and producing.

Caught in his passionate embrace, knowing you two had to be quick. Your disappearance could easily be explained as your 15 minute break which you often took with one of the skeletons you were working with.

Black seemed to understand the need for a hasty rendezvous as well and turned you around. Thankfully a skirt was your chosen garment today and was also the subject of tease as you've subjected him to near panty shots. Your skirt is riding a little high as you bend over. Getting the poor flustered skeleton worked up and wanting as bad as you were.

He pulled your Polo over your head but left it resting and still covering your arms as you braced yourself for what was to come.

You feel him against you nipping and licking your shoulder to the crook of your neck. He places a hand between your legs to splay them and widen your stance as the other grips your hip.

Your panties are pushed aside and the waters are tested and it's safe to say you are positively dripping at this point… you've wanted him all day.

His hand leaves and you hear a zip and you moan in approval as he continues to assault your neck.

Then he pushes himself on you with the passion of a wild animal. You feel his weight pressing down but not fully, just to show dominance. His chest on your back as he adjusts and you can feel a throbbing cock getting slick against your folds. Hearing and feeling a deep rumble from his chest… a mixture of a growl and a groan at feeling your heat.

Knowing your warm core probably feels amazing to his aching member in this cold cooler. Nipping you harshly enough to draw blood as he lines up with your opening… leaving you a moaning mess in want.

"Black please! Please!" You cry out to spur him on.

Ask and you shall receive.

Black rams it in with a guttural growl upon hearing your plea. You throw your head back as you clench his length and thickness… almost sad that it leaves only to cry out in joy when it returns… again and again…

He pistons into you as you both try to meet your end. It has to be quick so you can cool down and clean up. Then act like it didn't happen… then maybe try it again.

With the way Black is clinging to you purring and groaning with every squeeze around his cock you provide… he might just be up for another round in the near future too.

Both of you have seemed a little pent up and he starts back with tender nips as his thrusts begin to get a little erratic. You are so close, yes. You begin to rub your sensitive nub to help you reach with him.

You hear him whine and start to pull away and you realize that he might be trying to pull out… Gripping his hands and pulling him back flush against you earned a surprised huff of air out of him.

"It's okay Black. Give it to me. I want it all." You whine back and hear a ferocious snarl before he bites into you to latch his teeth into a grip.

Your eyes bulge… did he get bigger? You felt his cock almost bulge inside of you. It left you gasping as he tried to thrust.

You feel him snake a hand down to finish rubbing your clit making you a moaning mess. A final thrust from him and it feels like an explosion erupts from his cock. Sending you into your own pleasurable climax.

Feeling his cum continuously spurting against your spasming insides sending you into another but smaller orgasm.

Both of you are breathing heavy but very satisfied. Reveling in the aftermath for a quick moment. Now you had to be quick. Both of you needed to get cleaned up before you were caught.

You try to break away from Blacks embrace only to get a surprised gasp of pain and down both of you went.

Looking down Black was splayed on the floor and you very much still connected to his penis straddling him reverse cowgirl style.

"S-SHIT! Y/N I'M SORRY! I GOT TOO EXCITED AND KNOTTED INSIDE YOU!" Black is as red as a beet in embarrassment.

"Knotted? What does that mean? Are we stuck?" You ask looking back at him incredulously.

"YES… UNTIL MY KNOT HAS GONE DOWN." Black at least looks apologetic but you are terrified.

"What!? Black, if we aren't on the floor in a few minutes they are going to come looking for us! We can't use the 15 minute break excuse if we're gone longer than that!" You try to get up again only to grunt and come back down to rest on him. Then squeak in surprise when you feel another jet of cum coating your insides.

"S-SORRY… I'VE REALLY BEEN FANTASIZING ABOUT THIS AND YOU ASKING FOR IT MADE ME LET LOOSE." He sighs and blushes.

"What sex in a cooler?" You quip at him.

"STARS NO! BEING... INTIMATE WITH YOU." Black says looking away. You know he means it if he's embarrassed.

Black has a special place in your heart… you don't quite know if you're ready to give him everything but… since he made amends, from that fiasco when you first met him, by buying you and the kids groceries when you had nothing… you had a soft spot for him. He hadn’t needed to but he did it anyway.

Then when he started saying "YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL TODAY." along with his good mornings… and giving you appreciative looks… willing to help at a moment's notice… Then when you left him speechless getting all gussied up for chaperoning Angels school dance… you had also invited him to come along with you to help keep you sane… you both had a very good time and even danced to a few songs… making it very clear how bad you both wanted to jump each other's bones…

Bad thing was… you also liked all the other skeletons. With raising the kids in mind you needed to date around and find mr. Right but that didn't mean you couldn't have some fun. Especially when Black was a potential candidate for that role.

"Y/N, Black, Code 2 at the front checkout." You hear Orange over the loudspeakers just outside the cooler and you both blanch.

Code 2 was a sudden rush at the checkout… that you two were too preoccupied to help.

You try to lift again and both hiss… lowering poor Black to the harsh cold of the cooler floor.

"I AM SO SORRY. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE A MOMENT." Black groans as another spurt of cum hits deep inside you. It flares that tingling warmth back to life a little.

Stars… you couldn't get horny again… could you?

You feel yourself moistening more and clamping down on his still hard member… making him whimper.

You look back to apologize only to see him give you the same needy lust filled gaze.

What the heck… you were stuck might as well get off again if he doesn't mind.

Make it count before you were fired.

Feeling more cum fill you… you started your hips rocking for friction. Rubbing your clit as he began to pump once again. His moans make you clench him tighter in pleasure. Black gripping your hips harshly as you rode him.

Still cumming but still going? All the guys you've been with were typically spent after they blew their load. Far too sensitive for another round. Black was still cumming from his first and wanting to do more.

Feeling his cock rub aggressively the sensitive places inside you. Arching your back as he bucks.

Over stimulated yourself from the pleasurable pressure that was Black's still swollen member and the harsh tugs as he thrusts, not able to truly leave your womanhood.

Black instantly raises himself to embrace you further. You both aren't going to last very long as his feather like kisses begin to grip and nip. A final throb and feeling him explode within you again had you almost cry out as it hits deep within your womb. Sending pleasant shivers of coital bliss as your partner purrs coming down from his high.

You relax back into him and he nuzzles you appreciatively. Still deeply embedded in you. You still feel him twitch and release small spurts. Your abused core, highly sensitive to it all… making you whimper and moan.

Thankfully his second orgasm must have triggered his knot to go down. You feel the pressure begin to fade. Both of you quickly try to get ready.

Black gives you his bandana for cleanup and hastily hides it once you are done. His pants however were a little on the wet side. You untucked his polo slightly so it would cover the spots.

Getting a thumbs up when you ask how you look. You both make a beeline for the registers. You got a concerned look from Blue and Orange as Orange was trying to help man the registers as you two didn't show.

Both of you hopped on and helped take care of the crowded frontline. Once it went down it was Orange that piped up.

“So… where were you two?” He asks suspiciously.

“W-we were in the cooler. We were trying to rotate stock and one of the crates fell over.” You thought it was a good excuse to be late. However Black was rigid and when Orange looks his way for verification, he merely huffs.

“YOU ASK THAT AS IF WE WERE TRYING TO GET OUT OF DOING OUR JOBS.” He glares at Orange who humms.

“Is that right? So what happened to your bandana?” Orange smirks at him as he falters. He always had his bandana…. This looked highly suspicious.

“MISS Y/N!” You turn to look at Blue as he sounds panicked

He leans in close and whispers to you. If you could call it whispering.

“IS-IS IT THAT TIME? I THINK YOU FORGOT. YOU’VE GOT RED ON YOUR LEG.” You can only gape at him then look down and sure enough there is a little trail on the inside of your lower leg you must have missed… of red cum from a now very red skeleton.

“Oh! Thanks Blue I need to go clean this up.” You smile awkwardly at him when on the inside you are mortified.

Unaware that you completely left Black to Orange’s mercy. Of which you didn’t know… he lacked.

“I wonder what sans is going to say when he looks on the security footage.” Orange smirks as Black sputters.

“W-WE DON’T HAVE CAMERAS IN THE COOLER!!!!” He yells.

“We don’t have them in the freezer. There’s a difference.” He keeps the smirk up as Black looks horrified.

“Blue can you finish with the front stock while we don’t have any customers checking out?” He calls over to his brother who cheerfully salutes. As soon as Blue was out of ear shot.

“You think I can’t tell the difference between blood and magic mister? Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Orange eyes are lit an eerie orange. Black could see there was no getting out of this.

“SHE WANTED IT AND I GAVE IT. NO SENSE IN GETTING JEALOUS ORANGE.” Black smirked right back as it was Orange’s turn to gape.

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lumini-317 · 3 years

Text

Okay, my first time posting any type of fic to be seen by the public. I have no idea if my writing is any good or not but I do enjoy it as a past-time so if anybody else enjoys reading it then that’s good enough for me. Also, this fic just sort of starts and ends abruptly, so I apologize. I’m bad at making longer fics, I just end up losing interest and it’s such as waste of (my idea of) a good prompt. Plus I spend so much time writing them only to just stop and leave it at a random spot. It’s very frustrating. So I decided to just make short-ish ones, at least for now.

Title: None

Characters: My OCs; Felix, Cameron, Parker, and Kyle.

Tags: Whump, hybrids, hybrid whump, mentions of blood, airsoft gun injuries, violence against hybrids? Is that a good tag? I have no idea.

Notes: I don’t really have many details about the make-believe world this takes place in. The hybrids are pretty stereotypical, humanoids with animal features such as cat/dog ears, antlers/horns, fangs, and tails. They’re mostly put on the same level as animals such as deer, horses, dogs, cats, etc. Some can talk, others can’t. Some can shift into more animalistic forms, others can’t. Stuff like that. I might change some stuff and make a more detailed post about it in the future, and maybe write fics based on it. Maybe. Edited Note: I forgot to mention that I decided that it would be cool if every type of hybrid had its own species name. I used a generator to come up with some like Lasera = Wolf, Duano = Deer, Komo = Mix, etc.

I hope you enjoy!

-Start-

Cameron and Parker jumped out of the jeep as soon as it had come to a stop. “What happened?” The older of the two panted as he ran up to Kyle, Parker hot on his heels.

“Some brats started shooting at Felix with their airsoft guns while I was checking his water,” Kyle recalled hastily. “He panicked and ran into the wire fence and got his antlers stuck. I scared the brats off but you need to hurry, Felix is gonna seriously hurt himself with the way he was struggling. He’s on the south side.”

Cameron nodded curtly and collected some supplies before entering the enclosure, waving for Parker to follow.

They reached the hybrid within a few minutes. The poor thing had tired himself out struggling. His shirt was damp with sweat and his quick raspy breaths could be heard yards away; he looked like he would fall over the second he came loose.

“Poor guy’s exhausted,” Cameron spoke sympathetically. “Even after we get him loose, we’ll have to keep a close eye on him. That kind of stress could kill a hybrid.”

Parker hummed in agreement. “That’s gonna be a lot of work,” he murmured, eyeing the wire that had become severely entangled in the hybrid’s antlers.

“Let’s just be careful.”

With that, they slowly approached the Komo, who was facing away from them and didn’t acknowledge them; though Cameron knew he was aware of their presence.

“Hey, Felix,” Cameron called when he saw the hybrid’s eyes were trained on him. “We’re going to help you, alright?” The hybrid only growled a warning and pinned his ears back in reply.

They got closer, and at first it seemed as if Felix was simply too exhausted to try and fight them.

That was, of course, until Cameron reached his hand out to grab onto an antler. The Komo flipped out, once again kicking and pulling against the fence with great desperation.

“Woah, boy!” Cameron yelped and jumped back in surprise. “Stay back, Parker! Watch his arms and legs.”

The younger handler listened and took a few steps back, concern written all over his face. “Can’t you tranq him? He’s going to hurt himself!”

“I used the last I had on hand on a sick Lasera just before I came over here. We don’t have enough time to get more.” Cameron was starting to feel a bit panicked, as well. But he stayed focused and went through his options.

After a few seconds, a plan came to his mind. It was risky but it was all they had. He reached into his supply bag and found a blindfold and some rope. Just what he needed.

He handed the blindfold to a confused-looking Parker and kept the rope for himself.

“What-“

“Once he runs out of steam again, go up behind him and tie that over his eyes,” Cameron ordered simply, untangling the rope. “Then, I’ll come in with the rope, tie him up, and then we should be able to help him without getting killed.”

Parker nodded obediently.

“Once we get him out of the fence, we’ll need to hold him down on the ground to get the rest of the wire out and look for any serious injuries,” Cameron finished explaining the plan a few moments before Felix exhausted himself again. The hybrid’s bangs stuck to his forehead and sweat was dripping off of his nose and chin; his breathing was on the verge of being hyperventilation.

Seeing this, the older boy was worried that he would die if they didn’t hurry up. The concerns became even greater when Felix’ legs momentarily gave out. The Komo nearly hung himself before quickly and clumsily getting back on his feet again.

Cameron prepared to leap into action, “Get ready, Parker.” Parker nodded and got into place, waiting for the signal. It came in the form of a short, “Go!” and he rushed forward, wrapping the material around the hybrid’s head and covering his eyes. Felix panicked for a second, kicking out and nearly hitting Parker before freezing up.

Cameron came up beside them and carefully wrapped a loop around Felix’ right hand, moving it over Parker’s head and then doing the same with the left. He pulled the rope which brought the hybrid’s hands together behind his back.

Felix didn’t put up too much of a fight, he just pulled on it a little and whimpered.

“It’s okay, Lix,” Cameron assured softly. That’s when the hybrid’s legs gave out, and he made no move to get back up again. It caused his neck to bend in an angle that put pressure on his windpipe. “Felix! Shit. Shit! Hurry and hold him up so I can cut the wire.”

Cameron was never more grateful that Felix wasn’t full grown, and wouldn’t even reach the size that most hybrids did as adults. It meant that it was relatively easy for Parker to hold him up as the older boy cut the wire surrounding the antlers.

He made the final cut and grabbed onto Felix’ antlers before telling Parker, “Okay. Let him down.”

They slowly lowered him to the ground and onto his back. Cameron loosened the ropes around his hands so that they rested by his sides instead of being smashed under his back. “I’ll check him over. Hold onto his antlers, just to be safe,” he told the younger handler, who did as he was told.

The first thing Cameron did was check the Komo’s pulse. It was unsurprisingly too fast, and putting his ear to Felix’ chest told him the same about his breathing.

Then he lifted Felix’ shirt, and cursed under his breath at the sight of multiple ugly welts littering his chest and stomach.

“What is it?” Parker asked worriedly.

“Those bastards actually hit him. They weren’t even just trying to scare him, they actually hit him.” Cameron was seething. The second they were done treating Felix, he was going to go and demand that better security measures be taken to protect the hybrids from scum like that.

He pulled out some medical cream from his bag and started liberally applying it, a terrifying scenario playing out in the back of his mind as he went from one welt to another.

What if it had been real bullets? What if Kyle didn’t see it happen and didn’t find him until tonight? He would’ve probably been dead by then.

He shook his head to rid it of those thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

Soon, he was done with the front, so he and Parker worked together to flip him onto his stomach and Cameron worked on the welts on his back.

When he was done with that, and they had flipped Felix onto his back again, Cameron returned his attention to the wire still wrapped in the Komo’s antlers.

Felix’ breathing had slowed down, leading Cameron to believe that he was unconscious. He certainly wouldn’t be calming down if he was aware of the hands on his body. But, as luck would have it, that’s when the hybrid’s breathing hitched, before speeding up yet again. He whimpered and struggled to free his hand.

“I guess he’s awake,” Parker said, holding on tighter to Felix’ antlers in case he started trying to move around more.

“It’s okay, Felix. I’ll finish this as quick as I can,” Cameron grunted as he cut the first wire with a “Clip”.

The hybrid flinched every time he heard the sound of the clippers cutting through the wire, but other than that and the occasional whimper, he didn’t struggle against them. The older boy was grateful for that, though he was worried about it as well. It only meant Felix was just too tired to fight back.

He did his best to speed up the process without endangering his own fingers and clipped the last wire a few minutes later. He pulled the mess off and tossed it to the side and began inspecting the antlers and the top of the hybrid’s head. Felix yelped when he ran his finger around the base of the antler and he pulled his hand back to find a little blood. It wasn’t much, and definitely not life threatening, but he still needed to add some cream to maybe give him some relief.

“He okay?” Parker asked, loosening his grip on the antler that was bleeding.

“Yeah, probably just a little sore,” Cameron answered as he applied the cream. “It’s not as bad as when he sheds and grows them back. That’s hell for him. Poor guy.” He gave a sympathetic pat to the hybrid’s shoulder, being mindful of the welts. Then he got up and got a hold of the blindfold off, “Alright, he’s good, let him go. Run back as soon as he’s free.”

Parker let Felix’ antlers go and ran a few feet away. Cameron quickly pulled the blindfold off of the hybrid’s eyes before running over to join the handler-in-training.

At first, Felix didn’t move, he just laid there and blinked. Cameron was beginning to worry again until the Komo finally got up to his feet. He stood there for a second—his legs shaking slightly, looked at his rescuers, and began walking to the tree line. A little ways there, he started running. It was slow, clumsy, and he stumbled a few times, but a weight was lifted off Cameron’s shoulders. Felix was gonna be okay.

He went over and picked up the supply bag and the wire he had cut off of Felix’ antlers. He gave the wire to Parker and threw his arm over the younger’s shoulder, “How was that for your first encounter with Felix?”

“Exciting, to say the least,” Parker sighed. “And tiring. Will he really be okay?”

Cameron nodded, “Yep, Felix is one of the toughest hybrids I’ve ever met. We’ll just need to check on him every so often, make sure that he’s not too scared to get food and water.”

“Why would someone even want to do that to a hybrid?”

Cameron shrugged, “Don’t ask me. I don’t find any fun in harassing innocent beings. Some people are just messed up.”

The younger of the two kicked a rock and hummed in agreement. “I’m just glad the hybrids here have people like you looking out for them.”

“I enjoy doing it, too. They deserve that protection. You’re really helping us out, too, ya know that?”

Parker ducked his head but Cameron could still see the hints of a blush. “Thanks, I- I love working with the hybrids,” he said shyly.

Cameron chuckled fondly and ruffled the boy’s hair.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Once they reached the gate, they met Kyle, and Cameron made sure to tell him to have the repair workers fix the fence, and that he would check on Felix himself every few hours so Kyle wouldn’t have to.

-End-

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honeyandhondewberries · 4 years

Note

steam needs a sequel owo

wish granted 🧞 tbh i was sweating when i wrote this plz enjoy.

(You don’t need to read part 1 to read this one, but you like, can if you want. I’ll reiterate that this isn’t explicit (& still follows my Rules of no NSFW), but i’ll give it an unofficial T+ rating since the imagery is more vivid than some may be comfortable with. If you don’t like reading about non-explicit suggestive themes/or being the focus of some champion fantasies, don’t read past the line :) )

Part 1: Steam

A Few Degrees Hotter (LeonxReader)

Why the bloody hell was it his job to tell you that you can’t run around with your rubbish athletic wear that was much too tight in all the right wrong places? Your clothes were too tight in the places that they shouldn’t be too tight for when you were at your job, and he was the bloody Champion, not the secretary at some Galarian prep school.

‘The image of Wyndon Stadium is reflected by your trainers, Leon,’ Oleana had said coldly. ‘It is your responsibility to deal with such matters.’

What was he supposed to do? Slap your ass wrist?

So here is Leon, storming across the pitch, fuming with each stomp at the fact that he is the one who has to tell you that you can’t dress so provocatively for your evening training. You knew what you were doing, he knew you knew, because ever since he stupidly confessed how attracted he was to you in the public showers, you had been eyeing him like he was your favorite type of candy and it had been too long since the last time you tasted sugar.

You’ve been unbearable this entire week. No, you haven’t spoken since Leon’s mortifying shower confession (Leon made sure of that), but it’s the way your gaze latches onto him, the way you unabashedly drink in every inch of him, the way you stare into his eyes like you haven’t eaten in days – it’s all he can think about at night.

Every night.

Every single night he fantasizes about he’s plagued by the memory of your eyes and your lips and your body. And, what he didn’t see in those showers, his imagination eagerly unfortunately fills in.

Every single night.

The tension in him has been building dangerously, unfortunately unresolved no matter how hard he trains, no matter how hard he clenches his fists, and no matter how vehemently he ignores you. Perhaps by the time he finishes stomping towards you, he’ll feel as tension-free as the steam in the showers that night.

You’re waiting for him, and even though you’re facing away (purposefully showcasing one of your greatest assets, and Leon knows you’re doing that on purpose), your head is tilted enough that he knows you know he’s coming. That’s when you stretch, when your shirt lifts a few inches, and frustration spikes in his jaw.

And a little lower than his jaw.

And the tension within him grows.

“You know that is not uniform regulation,” Leon barks. You turn, sweetly batting your eyes at the fuming Champion before you.

“Pardon?” you ask. “What’s not?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Leon spits. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you say, still gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes. Bullshit, and yet no one knows it but him.

“Cut it out,” he growls dangerously. He is not in the mood to play these games with you, although you have every intention to play and to win.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong with my outfit?” you ask.

Leon glances around to see a few other of your fellow trainers snickering, raising their eyebrows, and one even has the gall to wink.

“You all want to stay late tonight?” he barks at them. “Since I don’t think it’s in your contract that we pay you to stand around.”

The handful of chuckling trainers dissipate, and Leon realizes that your unfortunate shower run-in was not kept secret between the two of you.

“You can’t wear that,” Leon says again. “It’s too… you’re too… you can’t wear it.”

“Fine,” you say in return, and you start to peel off your shirt. Leon quickly lunges at you to catch your hands before you lift them any higher, and you offer him a smile. His fingers tremble against your hips, and memories of his fantasy from a few nights ago flashes in his mind.

Just the two of you.

Alone on the pitch.

He would peel your shirt off for you, press his thumbs into your hips.

Leon’s hands unconsciously squeeze a little tighter.

He’d straddle you, let his hair drape over your bare skin, let the strands tickle the most sensitive parts of you.

Even with the stadium lights glinting and the empty stadium watching, you would beg him to-

Leon yanks his hands off of you and jolts backwards.

You grin, he scowls, and quickly reaffirms that showering next to your stall that night was the best worst thing that’s happened to him recently.

“Wear something appropriate tomorrow,” he growls, unable to meet your eye. He quickly turns, hoping that you didn’t catch the blush that’s creeping into his cheeks. How do you have this effect on him? Why do you have this effect on him? You haven’t spoken in days, and yet a brief conversation with you has him reeling.

Despite your teasing, he ignores you for the rest of training, and it isn’t until he’s packing up his things that you approach him again.

“I’m off to shower, if you’d like to join me,” you say.

Your voice isn’t teasing, but rather low and meaningful. When Leon meets your gaze, something dangerous flares deep in his stomach. Everything in his mind is screaming not appropriate not appropriate not appropriate but everything else in him is craving you you you.

He waits for you to leave.

He waits for everyone to leave.

Then he gathers his things and lets his body move past the rationale of his mind in favor of you in the public Wyndon showers.

You.

Wet.

Dripping.

Panting.

His fantasies from each and every night this week are swirling in his mind, fogging his senses, beating his heart harder and his pulse faster with each step towards the showers.

He hates loves it.

He loves how you’re genuinely surprised when he comes in, how you’re wet, dripping, panting from the steam of your shower, how your towel is loosely wrapped around you. You motion to make some sly comment, only for your breath to catch when Leon pushes you against the lockers and his fist slams beside your head, rattling both the doors behind you and the air around you.

“I’m sick of your attitude,” he growls, low and gravely. “I’m sick of what you do to me.”

You take a moment to process, to pause, and your smile returns.

“What’re you going to do about it?” you risk, coy as ever. “Didn’t think the Champion was so timid.”

Leon’s fists clench beside your head and he leans in, just as you were hoping he might. His golden eyes are murky, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You’re sticking to the lockers behind you from the steam that’s wafting in the room. It’s like an adhesive in your lungs, thick and warm.

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“Not outright,” you hum.

You risk it. You reach out that inch, delicately press the tips of your fingers against Leon’s stomach. He’s firm, or perhaps he’s just tense, and your eyes flick back up just in time to see Leon clench his jaw. Your gaze trails down his jaw, to the line of his throat, the sharp crease of his collarbone, his chest, down his stomach, then even lower. It’s as if your gaze is a magnet, and each inch lower your eyes travel, an inch closer Leon leans. He’s pressing you against the lockers until he’s the only thing in your line of vision.

“And if I think you’re wrong?” Leon whispers in return. His voice rumbles through you, low and dangerous.

Your eyes flick to his, dark and lidded.

“Prove it.”

You had every intention to be in control of this situation, but the second those dangerous words slide from your lips, something in the air shifts.

Another clang reverberates through the room when Leon pushes his knee between yours, then up between your thighs, and you let out a squeak of surprise. He’s gripping your hands, slamming them beside your head, intertwining your fingers together. His body pressing against yours is the only thing keeping your towel up. You only have half a second to process those things, because Leon is suddenly pressing his lips against yours, hot and desperate, frustrated and hungry, all at the same time.

Your cockiness is overrun by shock at how Leon quickly takes control of the situation, and you wonder for a split second if he was guiding it the entire time. Your distraction takes precedent when he kisses you deeply, sliding his tongue across your lips, pushing it between them and into your mouth. You let out a ragged breath, a soft moan slips, and Leon pushes his hips against yours.

You gasp at the sudden pressure, and again when Leon snaps his hips against yours again. The lockers rattle and shake at the force, as do you.

“Shit, Leon,” you manage out, but his lips are slamming against yours. He doesn’t grind on you again, and instead focuses on your lips and your tongue. Either he’s done this before or he’s imagined doing this before at least a thousand times, because each kiss and each movement is tinged with a desperate heat you didn’t think possible.

He kisses you and he kisses you and he kisses you, deep and intense and much too hot. You’re trembling and quaking beneath him and the tension that’s coursing from him to you, barely relieved even though you’ve both wanted this for so long. There’s lips and teeth and tongue and heat again and again and again, and longer you kiss, the greater the tension grows. He’s pulling an embarrassing amount of moans and gasps from you, as if he knows exactly where to touch to make it happen.

“Does your offer still stand?” he whispers against your skin. You’re both already breathing hard from the mix of the heat of the room and the adrenaline between you.

“What offer,” you breathe in return, unable to process anything other than how Leon is desperately trying to kiss and nip and suck every inch of your skin. He leans up, and his breath is hot on your ear.

“I know that shower is your favorite,” he breathes. “But mine private one is fixed. You should come see for yourself. I guarantee you’ll like it more than this one.”

He nips your earlobe, your neck, your shoulder, and it takes you a few breaths before you can respond. His teeth leave indents in your skin like a hot and desperate branding iron, and he seems intent to litter you with as many as possible. You guide his hands under the hem of your towel and you lean your head against the lockers behind you when he takes the time to explore wherever he wants. His hands are rough, warm, and much too slow compared to what you were hoping. You try to quicken their pace and Leon’s chuckle slips out between his kisses.

“Eager, are we?” he barely whispers into your skin.

It’s your turn to blush, not something you were planning to do tonight.

“What made it obvious,” you mumble. “I was ready to strip on the pitch for you.”

“How about we do that in my private shower,” he suggests.

“I’ve already showered,” you say stupidly, and Leon kisses you again anyway.

“I haven’t,” he says against your lips. “You can help me get all the spots I can’t reach.”

You quickly nod, rush to grab your things, and Leon leads you by the hand to his personal shower. The spots you helped him reach – you had a feeling he could have gotten them himself, but you didn’t mind offering him a helping hand.

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reyescarlos · 4 years

Text

both of us are losing || a tarlos fic

word count: 4k || read on ao3

I know sometimes It's gonna rain But baby, can we make up now 'Cause I can't sleep through the pain

Carlos has always prided himself on his ability to keep his cool. He likes to think it’s what makes him a good officer and a great friend to those close to him. He’s patient and analytical. He examines a situation from all conceivable angles before drawing conclusions.

But even he has limits. Even he is capable of thinking with his heart over his head and, as expected, it hasn’t led him anywhere good.

Getting into an all-out screaming match isn’t how he could have seen his night ending but as he stands on the opposite side of the kitchen from TK, he doesn’t see how else this could go.

The evening had been going well until this point, the two sharing a quiet night in at Carlos’ place for dinner. As always, being able to share in TK’s company after a long day at work was the perfect antidote to a stressful shift. There’s never a greater comfort for him than to spend time with TK. It hardly ever matters what they’re doing. It’s always just enough to be around him.

These last three months they’ve been together have been a real highlight for him. Given the complicated path they took to this point, all Carlos wants to do is wrap himself up in moments like this where it’s just the two of them simply existing in the same space together.

With their meal done, they two work alongside each other in the kitchen doing dishes with TK on washing and Carlos on drying duties. TK’s phone chimes on the counter with an incoming call, the jingle echoing over the rush of the water from the tap.

“Grab that for me, would you?” TK asks, his hands covered in suds. “It’s probably my dad.”

Carlos drapes the dish towel he’s been using to dry plates with over his shoulder as he turns to pick up TK’s phone. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach at the name he sees flashing across the screen. He stays frozen in place, unsure of what to think.

“It’s not the captain,” he says, his voice grave.

TK shuts off the faucet and looks over at him. Carlos holds the phone up for him to see the screen as well. TK sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I told him to stop calling,” he hisses, shaking his hand to get some water off before taking the phone from Carlos and rejecting the call.

Carlos blinks, his brain slowly processing what TK has just said.

“Wait, you’ve been speaking to him?”

TK sighs, ripping off a sheet of paper towel and drying his hands.

“It’s not like that. He wanted to apologize and see how I was. He left this long voicemail...it was so ridiculous. But then he called again and I figured he would keep doing it until we actually spoke.”

“When the hell did this happen and why am I only now hearing about it?”

Carlos’ voice sounds so different to him now and it’s evident that TK feels the same way because his boyfriend looks up at him like he’s someone else entirely.

“Carlos,” he says slowly. “Just listen to me, okay? I don’t want you getting worked up over this. I handled it and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Handled what exactly? TK, what is going on here?”

“Nothing! That’s just it. There’s literally nothing going on here. God,” he groans.

“How can you expect me to believe that? Your ex is calling you. Repeatedly, apparently. Obviously something is happening. Don’t give me that.”

TK shakes his head and sighs.

“How long have you been talking to him, TK?” Carlos asks.

TK hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips before answering. “He reached out to me last week.”

Carlos stands up straighter, jaw clenched. “So seven whole days have gone by and you couldn’t find so much as a minute within any of them to tell me that your ex-fiancé reached out to you?”

“Ex-boyfriend!” TK corrects, as if that makes much of a difference in Carlos’ eyes right now.

He scoffs and shakes his head, wringing the dish towel in his hands. For a moment it’s too easy to pretend it’s Alex’s neck.

“Oh, well, pardon me then. That makes all of this so much better.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic here.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You must be joking. I don’t care what the label is. What this boils down to is the fact that you kept this from, TK. What else are you hiding from me?”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t do this on purpose, Carlos, and I’m not hiding anything. I just didn’t think anything of it.”

“And maybe that’s the real problem here. You actively chose not to tell me and you probably never would have if he didn’t call just now.”

“Do you honestly think Alex and I are getting back together or something? We haven’t been talking every day, catching up like we’re suddenly friends. I didn’t answer when he first tried.”

“But you obviously picked up at some point and didn’t think it was worth it to tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. He just wanted to check in and say he was sorry for what happened back in New York. I told him that I was fine, that I moved on and that I’m happy so we can just drop the conversation. He’s nothing to me.”

“It does matter, TK. It matters so much and the fact that you can’t see that…,” he trails off, shaking his head.

TK pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is all coming out wrong.”

“Then explain it clearly because I’m not understanding how you could think I didn’t have a right to know. It’s about respect and transparency.”

“Carlos, there was never a threat here. Our relationship was never in danger. I love you so much. If nothing else, I need you to know that.”

Carlos’ vision swims for a moment, his eyes filling with tears born more so out of frustration than anything else. He’s always been an angry cryer.

“That’s not how you show someone you care about them. You don’t lie.”

TK runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t lie to you!”

“Omission isn't the truth either, TK. It amounts to the same. Screw technicalities.”

TK jerks back, blinking twice. Carlos struggles to stop his heart from racing, his chest from heaving. The silence that falls between them now is unbearable. Carlos’ ears ring with their exchange.

This divide between them seems so much larger than the counter that separates them. Carlos has been here before and the ghosts of his past relationships start to creep into the room, suffocating him.

Carlos bites back on his lower lip, swiping at his eye. He feels like a dam that’s ready to crack at any moment. There’s too much pressure building in his chest and if he’s not careful, he’ll explode in a way that may cause far too much damage.

What he needs is fresh air and time away. This isn’t where he needs to be, at least not in this moment.

“I just...I can’t. I can’t be around you right now.”

Carlos tosses the dish towel down on the counter and walks past TK out of the kitchen.

“Are you serious? Carlos, where are you going?”

“I’m going for a walk, okay? I need some air.”

“It’s getting late and you’re upset. You shouldn’t be outside.”

“Well I can’t stay here so I don’t have many options, now do I?” Carlos snaps, turning around to face TK.

His boyfriend stops dead in his tracks. His bottom lip crumbles a bit but Carlos looks away, stewing in the anger that has taken root in him. This feels wrong but this frustration has its claws in too deeply for him to apply reason to the situation.

Other people get to rant and rave. Carlos keeps far too much inside. Now that the lid has been lifted, the steam has to go somewhere.

Carlos turns back, snagging his keys off the coffee table as he hears TK draw nearer once more.

“Carlos. Carlos!” TK calls after him.

It’s the last thing he hears before slamming the front door shut behind him.

~*~*~

Alone with his thoughts proves itself to be an even worse place for him to be. Carlos has no idea how long he’s been walking around his neighborhood but it isn’t long enough for him to grow comfortable with the ugly thoughts swirling around in his head.

He pictures TK being pushed too far with this argument, seeking solace in something familiar, in Alex. Logically, he knows that would never happen. Alex broke something between the two of them that could never be repaired and yet that cruel, insidious voice in the back of his head whispers to him, conjuring up imaginary scenarios that feel far too vivid and real.

Had Carlos not traveled this same road before with partners in the past? He’s been burned so many times throughout the years that a part of him had been secretly holding its breath just waiting for the other shoe to drop with TK.

Carlos has long since learned how to live with that worry lingering in the recesses of his thoughts. Even when things were going well, life had a habit of proving to him why he should always remain cautious and vigilant.

Certainly he and TK had gotten off to a rocky, awkward start with each other. But once they managed to find their footing, things had been going extremely well. Perfectly, Carlos would venture to say.

But inevitably, the end would come in the form of a boyfriend finding some way to let him down. It was almost always when he’d invested so much of himself. Carlos was worried he’d wind up giving away so many pieces of himself that there would be nothing left.

He thinks of the look on TK’s face as he snapped at him just before leaving. It’s enough to make Carlos sick to his stomach. He knows his insecurity has just ripped the bit of fabric that’s been binding them together this whole time. All Carlos can do now is pray that isn’t something that can’t be salvaged.

Even though he felt justified in being upset over TK keeping the truth from him, Carlos knows his approach was all wrong. Being quick to give into anger wasn’t his usual speed but he slipped into it as easily as a hot bath.

Picking the night apart, Carlos realizes how much he felt ambushed by the sudden appearance of Alex in his life. The man was thousands of miles away and yet he had placed himself so prominently into the future Carlos was trying to work towards with TK. The past had a nasty habit of circling back, the old becoming new again.

What really troubled Carlos was the familiarity of tonight’s scenario. He’s been cheated on, dumped, ghosted. Just about every relationship ended in disaster but he’d been wrapping himself in the belief that this time around, things were finally different.

You’re a great guy but…

I think we’re better off as friends…

I’m sorry to do this to you…

He’s heard it all before and then some. Knowing that TK had been harboring a secret like this set something off within. He knows TK’s actions weren’t malicious. Now that he’s had time to replay it all and truly recount his boyfriend’s words, he knows TK was just trying in his own way to shield him.

Carlos’ head is a riot of thoughts but the most pressing one is that he needs to set things right with TK.

He rounds the corner to his block, slipping his phone out of his pocket as he ambles down the sidewalk. He wonders if TK will even be keen on answering him tonight. If his boyfriend still wants space, he’ll of course respect that but Carlos hates loose ends and this one is a gaping hole.

He pulls up TK’s name in his favorites and touches his thumb to the screen, pressing the phone against his ear as he walks up the short pathway to his door and unlocks it.

The phone rings as he steps inside and Carlos startles hearing the chime of a phone inside his home. He follows the sound to the living room where TK is sitting on the couch, eyes fixed to the door. His legs are pulled up to his chest, his arms folded on top of his knees. He looks so small, like a child that has just been reprimanded, the cuffs of his sweater pulled down over his hands.

TK’s eyes are rimmed pink, his face flushed. The man looks as if he’s aged a few years in the span of time Carlos had stepped away. It makes something in Carlos’ chest crack open.

He falters at the sight of him, ending the call. In the silence of the room now, he can only hear the ticking of the clock as it counts the seconds it takes for Carlos to find something to say.

“You’re still here.”

TK looks wounded at the statement. “Would you rather I not be?” TK asks quietly, chin propped up on his arms.

Carlos toys with his keys before dropping them into the dish on the coffee table.

“Of course not,” Carlos replies, walking around the table to sit on the couch as well.

He leaves a bit of space between them, still unsure of what footing they stand on with each other. It’s reassuring to see TK now, to know that he at least still wants to be around him and talk this whole thing out.

“I’m sorry about walking out like that. I just needed to clear my head.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m the one that got us to that point.”

TK lets out a shaky breath and continues. “I’ve never seen you that upset before.”

Carlos shrugs. “I don’t usually get angry, especially not like that. I wasn’t myself and that wasn’t right.”

“You’re allowed to get mad, Carlos. If something bothers you, it’s only natural.”

Carlos shakes his head. “I don’t like giving into that.” He falls silent for a moment. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I hate how this feels; this isn’t us. I don’t want you and I to end tonight on a bad note and have it spill over into tomorrow.”

TK stares at him for a moment and shakes his head as if to clear it.

“What?” Carlos prompts.

TK licks his lips and unfurls himself. “I’ve never been with anyone who thought like that. All my exes, our bad moods stayed with us for however long it took to fizzle out on its own.”

Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that at all.

“That’s not how I operate. Tomorrow is its own day. It shouldn’t inherit the troubles from today. I don’t like going to bed angry.”

It was an old adage his family swore by and Carlos had adopted the philosophy for himself as well. Harboring negative feelings was a disservice to everyone.

TK looks at him for a moment before lowering his gaze to his hands.

“I’m sorry I got defensive. I was totally in the wrong with this. I’ve been thinking it all over and seeing it from your perspective. I fucked up. Honestly, this whole time I knew I was messing up. You must hate me.”

“I could never hate you, T. You know that. I just needed some time to clear my head but I wasn’t walking out on us, I promise. I just needed to be alone and work some stuff out.”

TK sighs, letting out a relieved breath. Carlos feels guilty for making him worry.

“Did you find that peace of mind you were looking for?”

Carlos chuckles tersely. “Sort of. I realized the real reason why I blew up didn’t really have anything to do with you specifically. It was old insecurities rearing their heads and I caved. I thought I was past everything and all it took was one instance to show me that I’ve still got some things I need to work on.”

“Past what exactly? What kind of insecurities?”

Carlos sighs. He isn’t sure how to touch on his concerns now. It sounds so trivial and childish in his own head. He fears what TK will think if he brings himself to disclose what he’s been grappling with all evening.

“I know how much he means to you. Hell, you wanted to marry this guy, build a future with him. I’m not holding that against you, of course. It’s just...what you guys had clearly counted for a lot. If you had decided to continue talking to him or to even see him again, I couldn’t compete with that.”

TK’s brows furrow, reaching for his hand.

“Carlos, please listen to me. You win out each and every time in every possible way. Alex meant something to me. Past tense. As in used to but not anymore. I chose wrong with him but I know that I’ve got it right with you. That isn’t something I’ve ever doubted since meeting you.”

Carlos looks away, chewing on his lip. It isn’t like him to show his anxiousness like this and yet here he is, a ball of nerves.

“Talk to me, Los. What are you thinking?”

TK’s been so candid with him about his life back in New York, all the highs and lows of his battles with substances and depression. In Carlos’ eyes, those are real issues, true upsets that rank so much higher on a list than pesky confidence issues. But if he can’t be open with the man he’s in love with, Carlos realizes that there isn’t anyone else he can talk this out with. And besides, he reasons, his thoughts and feelings will always matter with TK.

“I’m not usually the first choice someone makes. Or...if I am, they always seem to inevitably look elsewhere. I never seem to be enough in the long run. Seeing that he called you, it scared me. I know that you love me and that we’re happy and good together. I know that we have something real and solid here. Rationally I know that you all ended on horrible terms. But even with all that in mind, I’m always so scared of losing you one day. I’ve had boyfriends run back to their exes before. I panicked thinking it could be the case here.”

“That’s never going to happen with me, Carlos. Never,” TK says quickly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, actually I do. I know it for a fact. I am so incredibly in love with you. I never thought I could ever be this happy with someone and yet, here you are. All mine. I’ll say it to you every day and you can bet I’ll make it my mission to show you too. I don’t ever want you to doubt your importance in my life. I don’t know what I’d be now if we never got together. Alex is barely a thought and on those extremely rare moments when he comes across my mind, all I can think is how goddamn lucky I was that I dodged a bullet there.”

TK laces their fingers, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I had no idea you’ve been through all of that in the past. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s dumb. That’s no reason to flip out like I did.”

“Of course it is; it makes total sense. I didn’t mean to add to that, to be another person on that list. But I swear to you, I will never make a mistake like this again. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or be sneaky going behind your back. I didn’t tell you because I honestly didn’t want you to feel like you had any reason to worry because you truly don’t. I feel nothing towards Alex or any other guy for that matter. But I see how not telling you was way worse. I should have been upfront from the second he called me.”

TK sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ve still got a lot of learning to do.”

“So do I,” Carlos says, searching TK’s eyes. “God, I was being so stupid and ridiculous.”

TK frowns and inches closer. “Shh, no, you weren’t. Your reaction was completely justified, a hundred percent. I didn’t mean to make you scared and I’m so sorry you were ever with anyone that made you feel less than. You’re the greatest part of my life, Carlos Reyes. The absolute best part. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t felt like the luckiest guy in the world for being loved by you. You’re so much more than I ever thought I’d have.”

Carlos smiles at the reassurance. All the same, he can’t help but to feel foolish.

“Still, I’m so embarrassed,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Why? You don’t ever have to be embarrassed around me.”

“I made something out of nothing and just showed you what a massive insecure mess I can be. Not exactly the finest quality.”

“If you say one more negative thing about my boyfriend I’ll...well, I don’t have an actual threat here. I’ll just be very upset.” TK kisses at his temple. “I love every part of you, even the messy bits. God knows I’m made mostly of parts like that and you still love me anyway. I don’t want you keeping up appearances or downplaying your emotions for me. Whatever you’re feeling or thinking, I want to know because it’s valid, Los.”

TK brings Carlos’ hand to his mouth, lips skimming along the back.

“You’re not a machine. It’s okay to feel things. And, to be fair, I went about this whole Alex thing totally wrong. I should’ve said something; I shouldn’t have kept that from you. This one’s on me. If an ex you were serious about did that, I’d want to know.”

“So you forgive me?” Carlos asks.

TK frowns, tracing the outline of Carlos’ jaw. “Babe, there’s nothing to forgive here. I’m not mad at you. I was upset with myself.”

“I snapped, walked out, and I made you cry. Those are criminal offenses in my book.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “It’s nothing we can’t bounce back from, right?”

“Right. We’re okay. Better than that, even. We’re prepared if anymore exes decide to come out of the woodwork.”

TK laughs and nods in agreement. “Definitely. So, have we passed the ready-for-bed test now?”

Carlos hums in thought, standing up from the couch and tugging TK towards him.

“Not yet. There’s just one final step until we get the all clear,” he says.

TK smirks knowingly and tips his head up for Carlos to capture his lips. Carlos frames his boyfriend’s face in his hands, mouth moving over TK’s steadily. He kisses him deeply, casting out all the residual doubt and fear that’s knocking about, clearing it all like cobwebs from the darkest corners of his head.

He pulls back enough to stare into TK’s eyes, those gorgeous green irises teeming with so much love and affection. How Carlos allowed himself to give in to misgivings seems inconceivable now. No one has ever looked at him the way TK does.

“Okay, now we’re ready.”

Ready to put this whole argument behind them, ready to sleep, ready to tackle whatever obstacles may try to stand in their way.

As they walk hand in hand towards his bedroom now, Carlos feels as if he’s leaving so much behind. For all that he’s given away to people throughout the years, he’s struck by just how much the man holding on to him has given him back in return. And that, Carlos realizes, isn’t something anyone stands a chance of taking away.

#tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #ronenrubinstein #userjilly #sulkybbarnes #sunshinestrand #starlightbuck #usermaximus #userthai #useralie #brilliantbanshee #usermaddiee #userpauline #kimmy writes

57 notes · View notes

pkg4mumtown · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Hawkins PD (Ch. 4)

Chapter Title: Eyes n’ Thighs

Chapter 4 of 9?

Read Chapter 3 / Masterlist

AN: Would you believe that I did the art before I even wrote this chapter? Lol

Warnings: Cursing, Hopper trying to be a big, strong man, grumpy Hop, awkward touches

Summary: After one too many accidental shower incidents, you’re determined to hang some curtains.

Taglist: @kingphillipblake

Lmk if you want to be removed or added from my taglist

After a couple more shower mishaps over the week, I finally decided it was time to hang some curtains in the bathroom. The mishaps, while humiliating on my end were also exhilarating considering they were all to do with Hopper. One of these included Hopper having to throw me my towel that I’d left on my desk, with me trying to cover myself in the tiny shower. If I saw a glimpse of his eye between his fingers as they covered his face, I saved him the embarrassment and didn’t mention it.

When my shift was over, I just about ran out of the station to get in my car and make it to the hardware store before they closed. I had found a drill and drill bit set that Hopper left in his trailer, so I counted my lucky stars that I didn’t have to buy one. I managed to find some hooks and curtains that should suffice for the bathroom. There was no way this quick job was going to be anything fancy.

I couldn’t have been gone from the station for more than half an hour, but when I pulled up, everyone’s car was gone except for Hopper's. The few days I’d been here, I noticed he tended to leave later than everyone else, but I didn’t bother pressing him about it. I hauled the necessary equipment into the bathroom, trying not to disturb him with too much noise as I did.

I set up the tallest step ladder I could find at the trailer, hoping my height would be enough. I unbuttoned my uniform shirt and shrugged it off, leaving me in my long sleeve undershirt, which would offer more mobility. I did the same with my duty belt and set both items out of harm’s way. I roughly marked, with a pencil, where I was going to drill the holes for the hooks before readying the drill. As I marked, I knew this wasn’t going to be safe as I stood on my tippy toes to touch the ceiling.

I slid on a pair of safety glasses I’d found, so as not to get anything in my eyes and started climbing the wobbly ladder with the drill in hand. I lined up the drill bit with the mark, trying to balance on my tippy toes to get enough pressure to push into the drill. Before I could press the trigger, a deep, surprised voice caught me off guard.

“What in the hell!?” I heard Hopper’s voice echo in the bathroom.

In my state of unbalance on my toes, the step ladder wobbled ominously as I jumped. Hopper leaped forward, grabbing my hips with both hands, and stepping on the bottom step to steady the ladder. I gulped, feeling his firm grip tighten each time the step ladder wobbled. I crouched down to lower my center of gravity, inadvertently pushing my ass towards his face which was confirmed by the grunt he made. As soon as I was steady, he released me and let me step down on to solid ground.

“Hey, Chief,” I stammered, still rattled from almost falling.

I faced him, seeing his arms folded tightly across his chest in annoyance at having to catch me.

“You could have asked for help, you know,” Hopper sighed loudly. “I don’t need you hurting yourself before the end of your first week.”

“I don’t need help, sir, I can do it,” I rolled my eyes.

Hopper quirked his eyebrow at me, having noticed the eye roll, making me look away quickly. I heard him grumble under his breath as his hands began to unbutton his uniform shirt and tossed it on the bench. My eyes were glued to his hands as he pulled his sleeves up to his forearms. Hopper stuck out his hand, looking pointedly at the drill. He took his hat off and tossed it on top of my duty belt before snatching the drill from my hand.

“That stool is in really bad shape, Chief,” I cringed as he climbed to the second step.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have to go as high as you, then, huh?” he grunted, angling his body so he could line the drill up.

“Oh, wait!” I stopped him before he pressed the trigger. I stuck out the safety goggles, which he stared at like I’d just offered him a steaming pile of shit.

“Men don’t wear safety goggles,” he looked at me in disbelief, like I should have known.

“Men who want to keep their eyeballs do,” I rolled my eyes yet again, earning me another warning glare.

“Uh-huh,” he dismissed me, looking back up at the ceiling and readying himself again. He pressed the trigger and squinted, making a hole in the plaster quickly.

Hopper made quick work of the hooks, having almost all of them up within a few minutes. As he drilled the last hole, he had to force the drill bit back out when he felt it get stuck. A frown worked its way onto his features as he yanked down on the drill and finally pulled it from the ceiling. As a result of the thread ripping through the plaster, particles came flying from the hole and flew directly into his face.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelped, his free hand immediately flying to his eyes as he took a hesitant step down the stepladder.

I ran up behind him, immediately helping him down and shoving him toward one of the two showers. He tried to plant himself before we approached the shower head, but I gave him one more shove, so he was under the metal protrusion. I turned the water on, not bothering to check how cold it was before pushing his upper back so his head would be under the spray. He let out a frustrated growl as the icy water hit his face, but let it wash over his eyes anyway.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes slightly.

“Don’t do that,” I batted his hands away, getting my own hands wet in the process. I heard him take in a frustrated breath, clearly unhappy with the entire situation. “Open your eyes,” I murmured, trying to see around the water.

“Gee, I didn’t think of that,” he replied sarcastically through a mouthful of water. “I wish I could.”

I leaned around him, finally able to see his twitching eyelids, so I used a finger to push the skin below his eye down so that at least some water would help wash out the plaster. When he was through with my prying, he slapped the faucet handle and turned the water off abruptly. He yanked himself away from me and started stalking back to where his belongings were.

“Chief, wait! Just sit down,” I called after him.

“I’m fine,” he replied in a terse, annoyed tone, lifting his arm up to wipe his face with his plaster dusted sleeve.

“Jim,” I responded forcefully, gripping his wrist in a vice grip before his arm could touch his face.

His jaw clenched, his cheeks and ears red in what looked like anger but could have just as easily been in embarrassment. His eyes fluttered open slightly, the whites of his eyes turned pink from his not-so-gentle rubbing. His hooded gaze stared me down as he ground his jaw and inhaled loudly but relented and finally sat on the bench. He moved to wipe his face again after sitting, earning a slap on the back of his hand.

I quickly yanked open my locker an grabbed a clean washcloth to dry his face with. I strode back over to him on a mission, purposely bumping my knee against his so he’d spread his legs. I batted his hands away impatiently, feeling too much like I was taking care of temperamental child. I dried the skin around his eyes, then brought my thumbs to his face with the intention to gently pull skin away from his eyes so they’d open wider. He grimaced at the gesture and pulled his head away sharply, making me grab the sides of his face so he’d stop. I moved so fast that I leaned too far forward and nearly fell on him, only stopped by his hands grabbing the tops of my thighs and pushing slightly. I gulped and paused for a second, but when I realized he didn’t plan on moving his hands from me, I took a shaky breath and carried on.

I opened each eye carefully and examined it. “Look up,” I murmured, feeling his fingers tighten around my thighs briefly. “Down,” I instructed, trying to ignore the tingle of his thumb brushing ever so slightly across the material of my trousers. “Good, all good,” I sighed, thankful nothing was damaged but also inadvertently responding to his touch.

“Yea?” he murmured, blinking a few times after I let go of his face.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, knowing I should just back away and hang the curtains, but I didn’t want to move. His eyes bored back into mine for a few tense moments before he realized what he was doing and dropped his hands. He cleared his throat and stood quickly, making me stumble back as his body straightened and pushed me out of his space.

“I’ve gotta go get my kid,” he mumbled, grabbing his belongings, and storming out of the bathroom.

I watched him go and gulped at all these feelings rushing through my head. I did not have feelings for my boss. I repeated this in my head over and over while finishing my task of hanging curtains. There was no way I could have feelings for this grumpy jerk, right?

Chapter 5

#jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanart #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #stranger things fanfiction #chief hopper fanfiction #chief hopper x you #chief hopper x reader

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

FOUR SEASONS OF K: “MATSUYOI”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Kokujoji Daikaku is debating policies in a separate house in the suburbs of Tokyo in preparation for the upcoming summit of developed countries. This meeting held in this separate house, commonly known as "O yashiki mairi" (Visiting the mansion), is a custom even before the Mihashira Tower was built in the city center. It was a serious event that mimicked his career goal.

Today, cars with dignitaries enter and leave the vast facilities, displaying the power of the "Golden King" that keeps Japan in check. When the deliberation reaches its final stage, the number of visitors decreases and the length of stay increases. Starting with Prime Minister Samukawa Kanichi, who was elected as president since yesterday, everyone has been waiting for the "Gozen" ruling, which is simple on the back.

That is what it is.

++++++++++

The facility was located in a depression in the Nishiyama area, approximately 3 kilometers after passing through a secret underground passage from another house. Although it is a mediocre distribution warehouse on the outside, the interior of a large building is hollow.

To be precise, it was a cavity to store a huge structure.

Dozens of people are moving around it.

"Checklist, Hitomaru-san, completed."

"Check, it's fine. Written by Hitomaru.”

"Someone received an oil leak tag... Should I replace the pipe?"

Busy and smart, some open the hatch and push half the body in, some guide and drive the vehicle.

"Well, well."

"Is this the last container brought in from the underpass?"

"Oh, a few tons of luggage, young people are depressed."

The appearance of their position was uniformly legitimate and strange. They all wear a golden mask that mimics a rabbit, in addition to the mechanic's tie (in view of work efficiency, the eyes of the mask are larger than usual, the city is shorter, the overall impression was closer of a demon than of a rabbit.).

There are two things this scene shows.

One is that all the people who work are members of the clan that belong to the Golden clan "Tokijikuin", commonly known as "rabbits". The second is that their work is extremely confidential.

In other words, with the exception of dozens of people here, without exception of anyone...

Everything was to hide the existence of "it" that fills the hangar.

Suddenly, a young person working on it looks at him and breathes admiration.

"Adjustment."

"Let's do it today simply by organizing the containers. This time I'm mainly using electrical equipment, so be careful... what's happen?"

Another person who came up with the drawing, the old "rabbit", addressed his coworkers. During this secret work, the pieces of the "King" whose names and individual pieces have been sealed become the key to the world.

"Oh, sorry. I was a little surprised."

The young "rabbit" ignored the sight in front of him again.

Elderly "rabbits" also look him in the eye in some way.

"You are new to regular inspection and maintenance. Even after going through the 'Tengoku' (Sky] air supply team, a moored ship of the same type would be quite powerful."

"Yes... was this the problem of the second ship "Meifu"(Underworld)?"

They admire it. The stiff "Meifu" airship, which has a unique silhouette connecting fan-shaped air sacs, shines within the hangar, supported by a myriad of steel frames that can be seen as nets or ships. It was the natural pressure exerted by mass and volume that is overwhelming to the viewer, even with the exception of being built as an aerial gunship from the German Third Reich.

"It's amazing, but... the problems of "Tengoku" (which continues to fly without landing on the ground) and "Meifu" (which continues to maintain immediate takeoff) is... unnatural. It is a must.''

"Perhaps, but it is more than the subject's reason for talking about the fundamentals of the main mission. There is no need to convince or empathize unless requested. We just constantly carry out the assigned task."

"Confirmed. For the moment, let's try to organize the containers constantly.''

"I like it."

With a smile, the two "rabbits" returned to work.

++++++++++

The "rabbits" who finished the day's work at midnight arrived for late dinner on the rooftop of the warehouse.

“Like the reputation of clans gathered by talented people, the taste of bribery is also like origami."

"After all, sushi rice is good."

"I'll order another cup of miso soup."

"Don't stay too long, it will hamper tomorrow's work."

Beneath the skylight, which releases the smell of cooking and steam, even the elite who stretch their backs normally, cannot hide the atmosphere that stands out due to the special missions of the men's camp.

A little far from that innocent bustle, in the upper exhaust pipe, there was a figure of the "Golden King" Kokujoji Daikaku. A large old man who sits with scarlet hair on his knees and dropped knees reminds him of a piece of Yamato painting, combined with the rocking personality. It seems that the outfit is worn on the go, even after rolling up the sleeves and even the machine oil tinting was like the color to decorate the image.

The impressive still image,

"I have a set, my lord."

The voice of an old "rabbit" finally moves.

"Hm."

Kokujoji received a framed and tendered set (which, by convention, was an aluminum tray). He puts that on his lap, brings the palms of his hands together, and immediately grabs the rice into his mouth.

"It's good."

When he looks deep into the "rabbit" in the face, he lowers his head.

The special day of the "Golden King", who could not do it in normal times, had close contact with the clan member and even shared small tasks, it was already ending.

This will continue for the next two days.

Use as much human power as possible and pay close attention to confidentiality, periodic inspection of "Tokijikuin" and maintenance of the special mission "Meifu". People who are not directly involved in these tasks are also busy.

"What's going on in the mansion?"

When Daikaku asked him, the old "rabbit", who was given responsibility for others, responds with a bow.

"Ah. The Prime Minister has finished coordination within the ruling party and is in talks with the Under Secretary. It will be full tomorrow, and I think there will be a prospect there. If he can return at noon the day after tomorrow."

"Ok, this work will be done by tomorrow. Let's leave the rest to the scene."

After passing a bit of unfortunate bitterness, Kokujoji asks again.

"So for the outside..."

"That…"

Once again, the old "rabbit" looks at the large skylights lined up behind the ceiling and beyond.

Under the glowing starry sky, the shadows of the mountains spread out black against the background of the night.

“The whole situation is the same as at the time of the preliminary survey. "None" for general public entry, accidents and mishaps, aircraft intrusion, transmission and reception of various radio waves.”

"Hmm... is it the same for the mansion?"

After contemplation, Kokujoji reminded himself.

The old "rabbit" is also clearly returned.

"Ah. If there are people involved, we will investigate it more carefully. We will review it."

"The one who wants to hide is the 'Green King'. I have to do it in excess."

The figure of a boy with a lightning bolt vividly revives in Kokujoji's mind. A few years ago, Nagare Hisui decidedly challenged the strongest "King", the "Golden King".

The old "rabbit", as a vassal that allowed the Lord's attack, makes a voice of indignation.

"It seems that the modern 'Green King' has adopted a slim and broad method of spreading branches and leaves... as long as there are people, he will accelerate the chance that his eyes and hands will grow."

"Hm."

The Kokujoji figure laughed loudly.

"So until you create an opportunity to get closer to people, socially and physically. You can't even notice the existence of things. This is the difference between power, strength, and experience."

The signal that a subject was caught and smiled behind the mask is perceived.

"Due to the precaution of cases where the first "Green King" hijacked the power line and communication lines, inspection and maintenance were put into the current system, but as a result, this concealment method seems to be applicable to the current generation."

"Social / physical isolation?"

"Right."

The Kokujoji figure looks towards the airship for insulation, which is hidden in the isolated facility.

After the end of the war, the "Meifu" problem, which had been requisitioned in the United States of America, was recovered early in case the "Tengoku" problem went wrong. At the time, he had no other idea... No, he hadn't even thought about it, but in recent years, as a "king" who controls destiny, he feels that "when something goes wrong" really means a big, heavy shadow.

"Even if you refuse because it's useless and look away because you don't like it, something inevitable comes along."

A little overwhelmed, like a slight fever, the voice is heard.

"This "Meifu" problem is for the occasion. In case "that man" who is lost in a sad world notices it and takes off, or leaves.”

"......"

The old "rabbit" did not respond, and kept it in the least.

++++++++++

When the meal is over,

"What time is the right... everyone is going to have a moonlight gift?"

Kokujoji gets up and starts walking towards the skylight.

The "rabbits" and others who were concerned also knelt before the person in question.

The "Golden King" continued without paying attention to the state of the subjects and the paths created during that time.

The old "rabbit", who follows a few steps, cannot point to the Lord.

(Tonight, is it the Matsuyoi?)

The so-called famous mid-autumn moon, the full moon on the night of the 15th of the lunar calendar, is tomorrow.

Today was the day before, the 14th, the night waiting for the next "Matsuyoi".

Work should continue tomorrow. It shouldn't be tomorrow night though, but it's not weird or messy. Against the backdrop of the spinning "rabbits", Kokujoji opened the skylight wide.

The autumn night breeze blows and invites his heart.

And so,

"Raise your face and look at the moon."

They, who had received the life of Kokujoji, and who freely obeyed, saw.

Like a silver rabbit playing in a wave of gold, an airship crosses the ghostly moon.

The airship had exactly the same shape as the "Meifu" that they had been maintaining until the beginning. It is like the "Tengoku" in which Adolf K. Weissmann, the first king of the world, the Silver King, sits.

The "rabbit" and other people were fascinated by the dream scene.

Only one, the old "rabbit" behind him, coughed.

"With the power of fate, it would be nice to use this level of entertainment.''

Daikaku Kokujoji, the "Golden King" who looked up at the sky, laughed mischievously.

#k #k project #k fan clan #k stories #Kokujouji Daikaku

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elmidol · 4 years

Text

What Monsters Fear (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part One Resistance is Futile

Read on AO3

Warnings: dubcon, sex with Hux (you can skip it), sex with Kylo

Three Blind Tooke Part One: Resistance is Futile Chapter Twenty: What Monsters Fear

How easy it is to hurt yourself when you’re just a body with no worth.

General Hux walked boldly into the room, which struck you as odd given that you could not recall him having previously entered Kylo Ren’s quarters. More specifically, when the man was not present. You eyed him from your position on the bed. Your legs were crossed, your bladder burning with the urge to urinate, and you had long ago accepted that eventually you would wet the bed like a child having a night terror. The cup, which held some sort of steaming liquid, captured your attention as much as the man himself. He set this upon the bedside table and reached for the chain where it was affixed to the bed. You watched him slide the key into place.

The moment it was unlatched, you went against your instincts to attack your enemy in favor of darting to the refresher. The redhead did nothing to deter you; the man likely knew of your current state. When you had relieved yourself, you washed your hands and returned to the room. General Hux gestured to the cup on the table. You walked over to it, and found that within there was your favorite flavor of cocoa. That he had remembered from when Kylo Ren had ordered it for you, that hit you hard. You swallowed thickly and placed a hand against the side of your face.

Dropping your arm once more, you reached for the drink and brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You blew lightly, sending the trail of steam in a different direction. Instead of drinking the liquid, you inhaled the scent of it. “This isn’t a gesture of mercy—I don’t expect that from you.”

“As you shouldn’t,” he retorted whilst taking a step forward, towards you.

“An apology? Whatever for?”

“You are quite observant, tooka.” He sighed prior to answering your inquiry. “I value my word, and I had told you that things would be solely political in the matter with your mother.”

“So…it did become personal?” A noise of affirmation from him. You at last allowed some of the hot liquid to travel past your lips. It was not, thankfully, at a temperature that would have burnt your tongue. It warmed your body on that first sip, the drink having a sort of calming effect that you appreciated in light of things. Your respect of the man grew at this display of self-accountability. “I don’t remember any of it. And I do not know if that is more painful, or some sort of sick blessing.”

For his part, General Hux said nothing. There were no false words of comfort, nor any outward gloating over the success of their plans. You placed the cup once more on the bedside table, turned to him, and stared at his countenance. A smile tugged at your lips, and after a moment you found that you could not keep back the single, bitter laugh. His nostrils flared at the sound of it, his lips twitching as he fought back a scowl. You trailed a hand along your naked side, tilting your head back at an angle.

“You treat me as though I am not bare before you. It’s… I don’t know how to react to it. I’m more accustomed to being objectified by now.” You narrowed your eyes then, your heart hiccupping in your chest. “Do you pity me, General?” His cold gaze fixed on your eyes, the man said nothing. “You watched the way he treated me. Using that power against me. It isn’t always like that, and yet…”

“Ren has not the maturity to deal with emotions,” the man shot. “His…yours… He rules with fear—solely. Perhaps there are a few who follow him out of respect, however…” General Hux had at last closed the distance between the two of you. He lifted a single hand, cupping your chin with a grip that was a mix of authority and reluctant tenderness. It, sickeningly, thrilled you that he might strike you at any moment out of spite. “There are pawns in this galaxy, tooka. Replaceable. Weak-minded. There are those who endured less than you have—and how I want to break you, my enemy. I want to break you.” His mouth was harsh against yours when his lips crashed down upon yours. You whimpered, your teeth digging into the flesh of your lip before he worked open your mouth with his tongue. That organ filled your orifice, exploring and dominating you.

It was different than when Kylo Ren kissed you. General Hux hid nothing; his distaste for you mingling with the respect he had allowed to grow. Your hand met his when you reached for the front of his pants. Maybe, you thought in the back of your mind, you would at last become expendable if he had his fill of you. He lifted his limb to instead undo his belt, all the while you tugged down the zipper and pulled open the button. You then wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your body and winding your legs about his hips. The redhead lined himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you with a hiss of breath that traveled across your lips, your mouth so close to his.

Your breath hitched, catching in your throat, at the first undulation of his hips. He was staring down at you, and how small you felt. Rocking into him, you tilted back your head to expose your neck. As though you would will him to sink his teeth into your flesh, to open a vein and allow you to bleed. Instead he set his tongue to your windpipe, dragging it upwards in a manner that had you clenching around him. Your body had always been so traitorous. You trailed a hand up to his hair, dipping down your chin so that you could tug him to you, kissing him for want of something to do with your mouth aside from scream in frustration. The leather of his gloves stuck to your sweat-covered sides. His lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as he hissed in pleasure, bucking up into you again, at the same time forcing you to move your hips the way he liked it.

It was so simple, allowing him to manipulate you. You held tightly to the front of his uniform top. One of his hands met your face, his thumb hooking past the corner of your mouth. You set your capped teeth against it, only enough pressure to keep the digit there. His teeth, free from any sort of seal, met your collarbone. You squeezed your eyes closed, inhaling sharply through your nose at the pain that coursed through you. Finally. General Hux placed a kiss against the area. You felt only heat. Your hands found the collar of his shirt. How nicely it covered his throat. Once more did your eyes lock with his, and then your lips. His cock pushing in and out of you, you desperately trying to alter the angle so that your clit would be stimulated. Clearly he would not allow you to drown in pain; thus orgasm would be an alternative. His hands on your ass, him choosing when and how you would experience that pleasure. Your jaw dropped open and your eyelids fluttered.

You were a trembling mess in his arms, your cunt so wet for him; you could hear every thrust, every smack of his flesh against yours. General Hux pulled you off of him. You whimpered, whining as he turned you around and bent you over the edge of Kylo Ren’s bed. You knew what was coming, and it was not the sort of pain you had been praying for. It was not death, but instead a further degradation.

His gloved hand met your ass in a sharp smack that had you bucking against the mattress. The redhead slipped his cock between your legs, fucking your outer lips. You moaned at the feel of him, along your cunt, the head of his cock brushing against your lower belly. Backwards. Forwards again, in time with his spankings at times, while at others it was in contrast. You felt your vaginal walls spasming in the telltale signs that you were close.

Objectify me. Objectify me. I’m nothing.

His fingertips dug into your hips as he reentered you—and that was all it took for you to cum around him. You screamed in orgasm, a quivering mess underneath your enemy as he sought his own release within you. His groan entered your ears, his cock twitching inside of you.

General Hux took a single step backwards, wiping his cock on your thigh before tucking himself away. You remained on the bed in that same position. Your chest heaving with every breath you took, sweat running down your body as his semen dribbled out of you. You felt his thumbs parting your lower lips, felt his eyes taking in the sight. “I broke my mother’s heart,” you managed to say as your enemy found your clit with two fingers. He then shifted those digits to your entrance, thrusting them into you. You rocked into his touch, knowing his actions for what they were. Something physical to keep you from drowning in the doubts that any of this was real. Something to distract you from the fact that you wanted to die—wanted to die so that they could take nothing more from you. “I’m going to destroy you both… I’ll destroy him.” General Hux began stroking the place inside of you that made it to where you lost your voice. You panted, moaned, and whimpered for him as you came again.

As he withdrew his fingers, the man spoke softly, “You should clean yourself, tooka.”

You nodded wordlessly, forcing yourself to your feet and walking once more into the refresher. There you used both the toilet and shower. You dried off, taking little time to complete each task before returning to the room and climbing onto the bed. You well knew what would happen. Thus you did not flinch in the least when General Hux secured the collar around your neck, when he chained you to the bed again. He held the cooled cup of cocoa to you, and you took only a sip before stating that you were done. The man left with the drink.

Drawing your knees towards your body, you wrapped your arms around yourself and set your forehead to your legs. It had been painful enough to know that they were targeting the other cells. Discovering that a map to Skywalker had been located, that the First Order was pursuing it, however, was by far worse. Force, don’t let him find it. You felt like a hypocrite; it was not as though you held a fondness for the Force, not after it had been used against you in such a manner. Countless times you had been subjected to its control, to the control of those who could wield its power.

What disturbed you more than anything was that your thoughts wandered to Kylo Ren. Not in the context of him as your enemy; you wondered, instead, how it was he would react to your actions with General Hux. His words from the past rang through your ears: You may touch him. A single time. As though he truly believed he owned you.

In truth, you hated the way General Hux handled you. The degrading way in which he spanked you. It made you feel wretched and small. Then again, you had wanted a different reason to feel that way, anything to take your mind off of what you could possibly have done to your mother. You wanted to feel used. The words you had spoken so long ago and, in some ways, often to Ren rang true: your body meant nothing.

Their attempts to agree with you on this were sometimes laughable. The way they would become so easily distracted by it. General Hux had proven himself a liar, to say he wasn’t ruled by such desires.

You pulled at the collar on your neck, stretching the chain as best you could. There was not enough of it to allow you to strangle yourself. You would pass out, perhaps, however could not—

The door to Kylo Ren’s quarters slid open. You were sitting cross-legged, the chain pulled nearly as tightly as it could be, and your body facing the headboard. You turned your head, however, to see the entrant. His stride was confident as ever, which set a sinking feeling in your stomach. He said not a single word to you; the robed man instead preoccupied himself with drawing out a clean shirt. You had to twist your torso to keep track of the man. All the while your heart was racing in your chest. Your mind buzzing with fear and anxiety. He had found the map. He had discovered the location of Skywalker before the Resistance could do so.

A metallic chuckle rang in your ears. “You’re restless.” You stopped fidgeting immediately, instead shrinking in on yourself. Kylo Ren approached you, his arm outstretched and fingers hooking. You heard a click as he unlocked you via the Force. His hand then made its way to your collar, which he undid and tossed to the ground. The shirt he thrust into your lap. “You’ll be thrilled—to know that the location of the map is temporarily hidden. But he will break, tooke.”

“Will break?” you repeated, your hands grasping at the material of the shirt. You pulled the article of clothing over your head, at last able to cover your nakedness. That horrid mask was pointed in your direction. “He? Who… You’ve taken a prisoner.”

“A member of the Resistance. They are working on him now—General Hux’s men.”

“You mean they’re torturing him. You’re inhumane, creature.”

“Creature,” he repeated with a scoff that is followed by a chuckle. “Yet you call him General, despite that he is overseeing these deeds. Always General—perhaps monster on occasion, I suppose.” Kylo Ren balled up the front of your shirt, tugging you onto your feet. Your hands whipped up, seizing his wrist as you tried to steady yourself. “So personal with me, tooke. Purely carnal with him.”

“Don’t delude yourself, Ren.” He hummed when you uttered his name, the man leaning in closer and brushing your cheek with the smooth surface of his mask. “He does not resort to parlor tricks to bend me to his will.”

“You Resistance members have mouths on you.” Your mind wandered to the prisoner he had referred to. His hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees. You grit your teeth, feeling your entire face heating up. “You don’t object to this, tooke. Unless you wish to lie.” Wrinkling your nose, you lifted your eyes up to his mask, which was still pointed in your direction. “You wish to see the face of the man that has been captured—we can…humor one another.”

You fumbled with the front of his robes, with his pants. Though he was not in possession of the map, the Force user appeared to be in a rather pleasant mood; the man chuckled at you once more. His gloved hand brushed through your hair, petting you. You withdrew his cock, finding that it was already hardening, and started to stroke him. His petting was almost tender, yet straddled the line of mockery. Running your tongue along your lips to wet them, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth. His hand immediately buried itself in your hair, fisting the strands and causing tears to form in the corners of your eyes. He thrust forward, groaning and swearing.

His cock felt so large inside your mouth, stretching your lips, the head brushing along the roof of your mouth with his forward thrust and then dipping towards your tongue when he would pull back. You groaned around him, pulling a swear from the man. The next thrust had him down your throat, you gagging, your fingers clawing at his thighs. Kylo Ren held onto your head, fucking you with no concern of your well-being. You breathed heavily through your nose, panicking at the feeling of suffocating around him. His head was lolled back, his hips in constant motion as he sought release.

His seed spilled down your throat, and you swallowed every drop before at last the man released you. You desperately gasped for air, gulping down lungful after lungful of it. Kylo Ren tucked himself away before lowering into a crouch. You rubbed your throat and glowered at him, your expression faltering only when he brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

“You are angry then,” you said, your throat raw and your voice hoarse. At long last did that visor point in a different direction. He stared at either the bed or the wall; you were uncertain which. “This isn’t a relationship, Ren. I’m your prisoner. You don’t love me. I don’t love you. You don’t own me!”

“Your body is just as replaceable as mine, tooke.” You hated how much his words stung. Kylo Ren stood, turning away from you and walking over to where he kept his datapad. He hit a few keys, pulling up a picture of the prisoner. Your blood ran cold. “You recognize him…” Before you could react, you felt him invading your mind, pulling up everything you knew about the man that was Poe Dameron, which thankfully wasn’t much. “The best pilot in the Resistance?” Mocking once more. Kylo Ren left your head, his boot steps filling the room as he circled you. “Even still you have your uses.”

“You won’t break him, Ren. You’re still trying to destroy me—you won’t be able to break him.”

“Do you want to feel it, tooke? Me breaking your mind?”

“Do your worst.” Kylo Ren’s knees hit the floor, his legs on either side of you, and his hand on the side of your head. You screamed at the pain that lanced through your brain. All the while his voice taunted you. Gentle caresses of words, him asking you questions that you tried to ignore so that no flashes of memory would rise to the surface. You started to throw up more walls, started to—sob when he asked, so nonchalant, how you would feel to watch him fuck another. And once more you were alone inside your head.

He had withdrawn so violently; obviously he had expected a reaction, yet nothing so strong. Had not thought he would see the truth lying there in your head. “Useless sentiment, tooke. Ben Solo is dead.” He had seen everything; the fantasy that you could return to General Organa with her son, that you had not ruined the chances for Ben Solo to be pulled to the surface. He had seen the tenderness you felt towards him in his calmer moments.

Kylo Ren seized you by your upper arm, pulled you to your feet, and dragged you into the refresher. You grit your teeth, still sobbing, as he once more undid the front of his robes. He leaned against the wall opposite the mirror, lifted your shirt up over your head, yet kept your arms hooked inside, and opened your legs so that you could see your reflection. You snarled at the sight—then moaned as he pinched your right nipple, rolling it, tugging at it. His other hand manipulated you so that his cock was between your legs, the head of his erection brushing against your cunt, your lower belly. You reached down, rubbing both it and yourself.

“Look at how much you’re mine, tooke.” You could see how wet you were for him. That he was aroused by your deep feelings for him, that it likely stirred within him a sensation of power, complicated you. “He doesn’t do this for you, does he, tooke? It’s convenient with him. But this…you need me. You miss me. You want me, tooke.” He wound an arm possessively around you, his hand caressing your side. You bit down on your bottom lip, pressing back into him. “I believe you, tooke—that you will try to destroy me whenever you can. Yet I know that you will always lose.”

As he spoke, he pushed up into you. You threw your head back, gasping and moaning, your hands flying backwards so that you could seize his hips. He moaned when you toyed with your clitoris, when you met his thrusts without complaint. Kylo Ren groped your chest, cupping your right breast, bouncing it in his hand. You stretched, bending over and bracing your free hand on the countertop. This new angle had him pushing more deeply into you.

You kept your eyes closed, General Hux’s words from earlier echoing inside your head. Ren has not the maturity to deal with emotions. Which is perhaps why he was so chaotic when dealing with you. The mixed emotions you felt, wanting to destroy him, wanting to save him—and for him, you were intended to be a fix, an object.

I can kill Kylo Ren by saving Ben Solo… I can’t save Ben Solo… He has to save himself… I don’t want to kill him… This is Leia’s son and sometimes I can see that. It would hurt her if he died, but I will, won’t I? If it comes down to it…

“Mm…don’t stop,” you moaned, working your clit faster while attempting to meet his brutal pace. He was undoubtedly choking up on the emotions, both yours and his.

I can’t save him…but if he breaks…if Kylo Ren breaks, then Ben Solo might be able to emerge…

You both cried out in orgasm, your bodies slumping against the ledge. The arm that had encircled you wound all the tighter, holding your body to his.

But he’s killed so many…how many did he kill while capturing Poe Dameron? Does he even deserve to be saved?

You set your hand atop his, keeping his arm around you. He held so tightly onto you, as though you were some sort of anchor, keeping him—from what? From being pulled to the light? From sinking completely into the darkness? Perhaps a mere reminder that he was human. This man who would shortly be moving on to do his damnedest to break Poe Dameron.

“It’s all so personal,” you murmured. His other arm moved around you as well. “He said it became personal.”

“In that she was hurt…betrayed…more deeply… I did not force you to attack her personally, tooke. That is not what Supreme Leader willed.”

Supreme Leader…as though he is a mindless puppet…

“If I tried to save you, could you resist me?” you asked softly. A dry, humorless chuckle. Kylo Ren pulled his body away from yours. You turned around as he was fixing his robes, and pulled your shirt back over your head, smoothing it down your body. “If I gave you that choice—to watch me try to save you or watch as I destroyed you, Ren… Could you truly resist it? The challenge? You’re a warrior. You would fight me on either count. Which battle are we choosing?”

“You’re suddenly so confident in your skills. Are the endorphins clouding your vision? Has adrenalin made you so foolish?”

“Endorphins, Ren?”

He shot forward like a blast, his hands on your wrists, twisting roughly so that the backs of your hands were facing you. He drew a line down your two ring fingers with his index fingers. You stared at the tattoos. At the way he tapped against the finger that held the name Ben Solo.

“Should I break it for you, tooke?” You tensed. “Remove it completely?”

“You fear it, Ren?” you asked after gathering your bearings. This time he stiffened. You leaned forward and kissed the digit that held his former name. “You fear love—and now I’m pitying you all over again. You’re right, you know? Me allowing the General to touch me again like that, how it means nothing. It’s just convenient. But with you…” He retreated from you, jerking away and twisting on his heel, marching out of the refresher.

You knew that he would gather himself by the time he arrived at whatever cell they were keeping Poe Dameron in. He was too familiar with masks to allow them to drop for too long.

Clutching your hand against your chest, the tattooed finger to your heart, you stared at the floor. “Don’t break, Poe. Don’t give into him. Force, don’t…don’t let him find that map. Please.”

You felt so ill, to know that your General had to be aware of her son’s path in life. She fought against him in her own way, however she would want him home. The part of you that had seen his moments of humanity—this part of you wanted him to return to being Ben Solo. Yet how you loathed him as well. It would never be so simple. All the lives he had ended. Your comrades, your mind screamed. You thought of how their ashes tasted.

If he can renounce his identity as Kylo Ren—if he became Ben Solo…would it make his death any easier for General Organa?

You licked your lips. How you missed the days when you only hated him, when you had not known his past life. It was easier to kill someone you hated than it was someone you pitied.

[I’d destroy myself before admit All the things I feel for you. We should kill one another, It’s the best thing we could do. Yet here we stand, both alive, Trying to find a new truth.]

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #three blind tooke #hux x reader #resistance is futile #hux smut #elmidolfanfic #kylo ren imagine

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