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#get it like fox and the hound. thank you
shaywrites-ifs · 1 year
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Hi! If you’re still taking emoji asks, can I ask for 🎂, 🕷 and ❇️? Good luck with everything and hope you’re doing well!
I'm most likely always open to talk about my characters, honestly, but I'm glad you're also enjoying them! It was a hard week, ending a difficult month, but we keep moving, esp with Dec being one of my favs and soon.
fun lore fact for birthdays: things native to the Stellar can live for quite a long time, especially compared to the humans From the Other Side
🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?
Rollo 🐶: born in winter, where your breath paints the air and a fog swirls around your feet. birthdays weren't ever a huge deal when he was younger, but sweet. he hadn't actually celebrated his birthday in a long time, unless Bear has made a big deal of it.
Sybille 🦊: born in the spring, when the world wakes to gentle rains, new life, and the rainbow of colors across the forest. there are large birthday traditions in the House of Fox, and Sybille enjoys them. but then, she enjoys a nice celebration and party, or reason to dress up.
🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?
Rollo 🐶: losing his connections or the feeling of home. as for mundane fear, I feel like he's not aware of it as he wouldn't have need to have spent a lot of time on a ship or out around the water, but he'd have a mild case of thalassophobia and dislikes thunder
Sybille 🦊: losing everything she's worked so hard for, at the end of it all coming up short, that it all was meaningless. she doesn't like needles, but suffered through it for her tattoo
❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?
Rollo 🐶: very few possessions mean much to Rollo, as somebody who had been on the move a lot and away from the only place he'd considered home before making that vow to Bear. but he has his favorite knives and the pendant he wears, he takes good care of it. he values more experiences and memories, of quiet naps and the tiny moments of gentle peace
Sybille 🦊: being rich, Sybille is not wanting. it's her massive fancy fur coat, however, that she takes great pride in. it is very important and a symbol of status for her, as well as something of emotional importance. she likes nice items, and she can be materialistic, but she values mostly things like skill, competence, or gumption. at least the will to say you're doing things, and then getting it done
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The Fox & the Hound (Ch. 01)
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Inspired by a tag on @ceilidho's tumblr post reblogged by @garbagecompactor3263827 where Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.
MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS
AO3 Link - Comments/Reblogs very appreciated
You watched him prep in the shared bathroom. People were bustling in and out, and a lighting manager was handing him a fresh razor, reaching over him for her films. He trimmed around his fat, flaccid cock with a practiced hand, getting the hairs just right. Part of you wished it was still the 80s when bush was en vogue . The rest of him remained furry, thankfully, and just as you were about to tend to your own garden, he caught you looking. That same glint in his eyes sparkled, like a hound that had spotted the writhing tail of its fox, ready to crack its bones in his huge maw. He’d been looking at you like that all day. He laughed, but he didn’t ride you for gawking. If anything, he looked a little relieved. What had you gotten yourself into?
Nothing had gone according to plan. This was your first real shoot, and the original actor who had set you up with this production company wasn’t even in the film. Film , your internal monologue chided you, it’s a porno, you filthy slut . Okay, a porn film. You’d sent nude photos here and there, and you’d even landed in Playboy as a back-page lube advert girl. It was a start. But, now, here you were about to shoot your first porno , and the only thing you knew about this guy was that he had fought for this part. 
He was beyond famous. You’d heard that Johnny Dangerous was the man of the hour, and that most of the girls who needed to boost their bankrolls called him up to ask him to co-star. You’d never even heard of him until today, and after hanging around the catering cart, you learned that he was the one who had paid actual money to star with you. 
It was probably some power play. Maybe it was your novelty. Banging the brand new porn actress must have been some sort of game. You didn’t care. This one gig was about to pay off your loans and buy you a brand new car all at the same time. You just needed to survive Mr. Dangerous. 
“Honey, are you comin’? We gotta shoot outside before the sun goes down.”
The voice came from the doorway, but you weren’t the honey, for once. They were talking to him. He didn’t answer. He just nodded, dismissing them, throwing his bright green swim shorts back on and rubbing the remainder of the oil into his broad chest. He was staring at you, biting hard at the inside of his cheek like he had a secret. Then, his expression became resolute, and he spoke to you softly, the way you do when you’re trying to coax a cat out from under a car,
“You gonna make it, lass?”
“Yeah,” you swiped on some waterproof mascara as an excuse to stare into the mirror and not at him, “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. That seems normal.”
“It is,” Johnny moved closer to you, fluffing his own eyebrows in the mirror right alongside you, “Very normal. I’ll take care of you, hen. Nothin’ to worry your wee head about.”
You smiled. You didn’t want to thank him, exactly, but you wanted to be nice. Cordial. Professional. 
It wasn’t very professional of you to stare at the way his cock bounced as he adjusted his shorts, though, was it?
Then, to your shock, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips, tasting your sticky, cherry gloss, and saying, 
"See you in a bit, bonnie. Gonna make you feel real good." 
You stopped. He was gone, and for the first time that afternoon, you were alone. He lingered in all of the cracks and crevices of you, though. Now that he had pressed his lips to you, the spell had begun, and you realized you’d be fucking this man for hours. You drank your water from your icy jug, trying to turn it into liquid courage.
“Okay, okay, uhh… cute, yeah. Love it,” the director, Mike, appraised you like he worked on an assembly line, swooshing you over to the diving board with his hand, clutching a venti Starbucks cup in the other, “You look great, babe. Go sit on the diving board and let’s do a little preamble. Feel yourself up, pretend that you’re sunbathing in Malibu and not fuckin’ Santa Clarita, mkay?”
You made your way over to the diving board, walking in a way that you assumed was sexual, making a sexual face, and moving your hands across your tits…sexually. You thought it was a fine job until you heard the cut whistle. 
Mike was behind four people, two cameras, and an iPad when he shouted at you again,
“This isn’t a goddamn church service, babe. C’mon. I get hard when Chuy over here drives too fast, and this is not doin’ it.” 
“Sorry,” you said, moving back to your mark, determined to be positively the sexiest sunbather he had ever seen. 
“Mikey,” you heard Johnny’s voice call out, “Lemme kick it off.”
“Shut up, Johnny. I can’t afford your extra minutes, you skank,” Mike laughed and sipped his triple caramel mochaccino. 
Johnny came out from his shaded tent and cut his eyes at Mike before staring right at you,
“No charge. Just want it to be right.”
“Ugh,” Mike rolled his eyes behind his too-small sunglasses, “You and your…” he used scare quotes, “... art . Fine. Whatever. I just don’t want to shoot in the goddamn dark, so hurry up.”
Johnny walked around the pool, stroking himself across his shorts to stay hard. He was so thick that it looked like he was petting a handle of vodka back and forth. You tried to control your face, but you were getting more and more nervous as he came closer and closer to you.
“C’mere, bonnie,” he pulled you up from the diving board and held you in his arms.
If it wasn’t for the twenty people sweating to death in black tech clothes and eating dried-out hummus from foam plates standing around you, you would have felt like you were at your high school formal, being cradled gently in hands that wanted to do so much more. 
“Eyes on me,” he whispered. 
You obeyed, for some reason. There was nothing else to do but obey him. 
When he bent to kiss you, you knew it was for the cameras, because the angle of his face was open and softly spread so that the way he sucked your lips into his mouth would be seen by A and B-roll film. You kissed him back, trying to turn the sexiness up to eleven, rubbing your hands on his rigid cock to appear wanton and needy. 
He shuddered, and you thought you’d done something wrong. The look in his eyes told a different story. They were feverish, daring, and his pupils were fully blown. You could smell the coconut sunscreen someone had applied to him, and you could feel his breathing quicken in his huge body. 
Mike’s nasally voice came over the speakers,
“Let’s get a boom in there and pick up some of the kissing noise, please. Also, Johnny, some of your famous accent there, baby. You know what the ladies like.”
You were being kissed again, now set up for everyone to hear. He was devouring you, and you tried to keep your footing, grabbing his hulking shoulders and running your hands across his hirsute form. His muscles rippled and stretched beneath your touch, and he spoke his lines,
“Thought you would sneak into my wee pool, did ya, hen?”
You gave your voice a high-pitched lilt,
“Yes, I just wanted to get nice and tan.”
“Aye?” He pulled the tie on your bikini top, “Wouldn’t wanna get any tan lines, huh?”
You shook your head no, kissing his bare chest and feeling the top slither off of you to hang around your waist. 
“Wow,” his voice had changed its timbre, “Look at these pretty tits. Jesus…”
Johnny brought his mouth down to your nipple and sucked on it, licking on your beaded nub until it tightened for him, making sure to allow the camera man a full view of your perky breasts as they filled his hands. 
You moaned, and then you remembered to moan the right way, high and whiny. The higher the pitch, the higher the profit, they’d said. 
Johnny stopped suddenly, looking you in your eyes,
“Go back, lass. The first way. Do it the first way.”
“Johnny!” Mike complained, “Do you wanna come sit in this fuckin’ chair, or are you gonna focus on gettin’ your fat dick wet? Stop directing mid-scene. Cut. Cut. Start over with the tit sucking, and we’ll take it from the top,” Mike changed the tone of his voice and smiled at you, “You’re doing great, babe. Ten outta ten.”
You felt Johnny move his mouth to you again, but this time, his eyes were watching you, looking at you and waiting for you to make a choice. He was eager to make you moan, sucking hard and then soft, letting his long tongue lave over you like an animal, nibbling at your skin and making your blood rush to the surface. 
You moaned for real, testing the waters. Johnny smiled so wide you could see his back teeth, his jaw open and parting to let his tongue come forward to do its work. 
“Tha’s it, hen. Lemme hear you.”
His enormous hand squeezed your other breast, and he moved his mouth between them, stirring up your pleasure like a whisk in cream. Soft peaks. 
You obliged. The more you moaned, the more he fondled. He was yanking at your strings and ripping the bikini from you quicker than you had assumed he would be, especially since you were still in the outdoor scene. Wasn’t this all supposed to be inside?
“Christ,” Mike groaned, “I look at my email for five seconds and you’re almost nose-deep in her asshole? Johnny, this was supposed to be at couch scene three. Can - hey! Can somebody get him a book?”
Someone handed him a book, and he tossed it in the bushes,
“I dinnae care if it’s scene five thousand, Mikey. Just shoot it vérité, mate. Just like old times,” Johnny barked. He was getting more and more ruffled as Mike kept cutting in, almost like he was impatient to be done with it. Done with you?  
Mike turned his head to his assistant and asked,
“How many minutes do we have? Are we good? Okay. Okay!” He threw up his hands, “Okay, Johnny, you prima donna bitch. Let’s take it inside.”
The Someone with the book now passed Johnny his robe and he shouldered it on. He looked around and barked again,
“Aye! Hers? Give it here.”
He then had your robe in his hands and put it over you, cloaking you in its soft terrycloth, making sure you were covered. It was such an abrupt stop to your pleasure, one that you were not used to making, and your body railed you for it. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples ached, and your belly was full of butterflies. He held your hand as you walked inside. Just as you were about to get into position four on couch three, he pulled you back, nodding up at Mike and his team of people.
“Okay, lets get lighting on couch scene three, Billy. Hey! Hotdog! I didn’t say pull the lamp. Put the lamp back. Thanks, my man. Two more clicks on the warm light. Okay, gross, one click. Perfecto.”
Mike’s head popped over his iPad,
“You lovebirds ready for scene three?”
“Hang on,” Johnny grumbled, removing his swim trunks and flip-flops. 
He positioned himself on the couch and spread his legs, jerking himself back to full hardness and staring right at you as he did so. 
“C’mon, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”
You made your way over to the couch and knelt down. You didn’t mean to, but you hissed when your knees hit the cold, hard tiles. 
“Sorry!” You whispered to him.
He took his hands off his cock and pulled you onto the couch with him,
“Here, bonnie girl. Like this instead, yeah?”
Johnny pushed himself out along the length of the couch so that you were both laying on it. You placed your knees on the arm of it, raising your bare ass in the air for B-roll shots, your face perfectly positioned at Johnny’s raging hard-on. It was massive up close. His plump head and thick rod had seemed normal in his huge hands, but now that your small fingers were wrapped around him, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 
“Okay, fuck,” Mike smiled, drinking his coffee and nodding, “That’s hot. Good call, new girl. Smart.”
You smiled back at Mike, grateful for the praise, feeling like you were going to knock it out of the park. Then, Johnny’s cruel hand grabbed your hair and turned your head up to stare into his eyes. He grinned like a demon,
“You don’t have to smile at him, lass. He’s a fuckin’ bawbag.”
“JD! Can we get on with it?” Mike rolled his eyes. 
You got on with it. Something in Johnny’s demeanor had stirred a dark place in your belly. He was possessive, and he didn’t like you smiling at Mike. He did like the way you took each of his balls in your mouth and sucked on them with loose, pouty lips. His moans were cut short, not wanting to over-saturate the reel with male grunting sounds. Apparently, the straight male audience wasn’t a fan of anyone’s grunting but their own. 
He also liked when you tried to take him into your throat, moving your head as far as you could down his shaft, choking on his cock until you felt drool coat the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto him, and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch you fuck your own face with his shaft. 
“Okay, while Johnny’s taking a nap or whatever that face is, let’s get B-roll in here for her mouth. Also, let’s take a minute or so of that gorgeous ass she’s got up there for us. That’s gonna be money, my friend. You are gonna be Miss Popular!”
In the place where you were staring before, Johnny’s face of agony and bliss, now there was a big, black lens. You could see yourself, bobbing up and down hungrily, and you pulled out all the stops. You suckled gently on his glans, lapping up his precome dutifully, enjoying it enough to moan again. 
He jumped, and Johnny’s hand snaked its way under the camera to squeeze the life out of his shaft. 
“Hey, mate, move to B-roll of her ass, would ya?”
The camera man laughed,
“About to lose it, Johnny? I thought she was the newbie.”
“Shut up, mate.”
You stayed stock still, watching as the camera moved to your rear end, feeling beyond exposed. You played with your pussy, spreading it open, fingering yourself, all of the things you were supposed to do. And, to be honest, it felt great. You needed to come so badly, a warm breeze would have been sexy to you at this point. 
Johnny stared down at you, his dick still in the prison of his fist, panting,
“How are we doin’, lass?”
“Good, you?” You appreciated the check-in. 
“Good. Ready to fuck you. So damn ready.”
His voice and his eyes were predatory. You felt like his prey. Prey had claws, too, though. So, you licked his shaft again, and you fed his own line back to him,
“I’m gonna come so fast. You’re gonna make me feel so good, baby.”
His face changed into a look of shock. Just then, Mike rang the bell,
“Alright, it’s couch doggy and - what does this say?”
“Light,” someone told him.
“Okay, light spanking? You okay with that new girl? It says you signed off on it.”
“Yeah,” you shrugged. 
“Okie dokie, just checking. Sweet. Let’s get there.”
Johnny was standing at the arm of the couch, positioned behind you were you couldn’t see him. You felt his hands rub your cheeks and spread them wide, opening your core up to him. Then, that long tongue was lapping up your wetness, and he was talking with his mouth full,
“Mmf, so wet for me, lassie. That’s my good girl.”
Your pussy clenched and you knew he could see it. You thought he might laugh or make some other comment, but he kept your secret, licking the inside of you with soft, languid strokes, you gave him another clench - this time on purpose - waiting to see if you could rile him up again. 
“Oh, fuck,” Johnny moaned, “You’re so ready for me. Fuck me, wait.”
He stopped eating you out, which was the opposite of what you were going for. This shoot was a disaster, and you really needed this gig.
“I’m sorry!” You said, turning around.
“What?” His brow furrowed, “No, just wait. Mike!”
“What is it now? Johnny - this is why I didn’t call you about Manuel Ferrara’s gangbang.”
“I just need my bag.”
Mike’s sigh was theatrical,
“Everyone take five.”
The bell went off again. You sat on the couch and the same someone brought you your robe and a water. You smiled and thanked them. Johnny had disappeared, but when he came back, he was wearing a thick, black cock ring, tightly secured around his shaft and balls. 
“Okay,” he sighed, sitting by you on the couch, robeless.
“Are you alright?” You asked, offering him some of your water.
He took it, gulping down two huge swallows before responding,
“Aye, lass. Just had to stop myself from ending this show too soon.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise,
“I thought it was for the opposite reason. Must be hard to keep it up for such a long time, especially with all these breaks.”
He laughed,
“Usually, yeah. But, not today.”
His eyes were raking over you, still hungry for you even though he’d seen it all already. It would have been a lie to say you weren’t hungry for him, too. It was intoxicating, the way he stared at you, eager and joyful. You weren’t surprised he was so popular. 
“Annnnnd, we’re back, people! Baby, could you perch up there again, please? Now that Mr. Princess is done preening, we can shoot a fucking porno.”
You repositioned yourself back to where you were, and someone came by to re-oil your ass cheeks. They felt shiny, and you hoped you looked great. Watching the film was going to be humbling, but this was your first time and you were learning so much. 
Johnny took his place behind you, and you felt the familiar, heavy slap of a cockhead on your pussy lips, sticky and exciting. You gasped. He responded, 
“That’s right, hen. It’s time for your reward.”
He began to feed his head into you, and the crown of it popped into your hole with some resistance. Behind you, his thick fingers spread your cheeks apart, and you felt one hand leave just to return in a sharp smack. You cried out louder. He sank in a little deeper, moaning right along with you. He slapped your ass again and growled,
“Fuuuuuuck, that’s too tight, that’s too tight. Oh, Jesus.”
You keened, embarrassed, but unable to stop the noise that came out of your mouth. 
“You like it, lass? Gettin’ this pretty little cunt all stretched out for me. Gonna make you beg for this cock and only this fuckin’ cock, ain’t that right?”
“Yeah,” you moaned, your voice straining, “Only this cock, baby. Fuck me nice and hard.”
You regretted every word because he was pleased to oblige you. He slammed himself down into your aching hole, pressing through your walls, through your wetness and the oil and the lube, and it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were tearing apart, especially when he pressed you onto his hilt. 
Everything slowed way down. You saw white, for a moment, and you felt tears well up in your eyes, burning on their way down your cheeks. He was trying to ease you though it, but you were coming on him. Your whole body was shaking and trembling, and his girth was forcing an orgasm to rattle through your core. You even felt him fighting to stay inside of you, battling against your tightening walls, desperate to keep his position, nestled at your womb, deep within you. 
“Oh, fuck! Lass! Holy God, that pussy is tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You felt him slap you again, but the sting was gone. Your body had flooded you with orgasmic endorphins and adrenilne, and it was going to take a lot more than a “light spanking” to get your attention away from the cosmic nova exploding in your belly. 
Johnny’s thrusts were that of a hungry beast. He didn’t falter, nor slow, nor stop to check and see if you were even still alive. He was chasing himself down inside of you like a dog with its tail. Over and over and over, you felt the heavy weight of him pushed forward, smacking into you, feeling his hips snap repeatedly spearing your core with his enormous rod. He was grunting with abandon now, just barking out cries along with you, and when you looked at him over your shoulder, his face was bent and twisted in such a rage that it frightened you. He looked inhuman.
Suddenly, you were lifted from the couch, and his hands were around you. He flipped you over and held your thighs pressed down to your chest, creating an even deeper angle. You regained your thoughts quickly enough to hold your legs pinned for him, only half-worried that you’d tumble off the couch. 
You weren’t sure it was possible though, since his grip on your waist was so punishingly tight. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that you were feeling it in your bones. Your hips were taking the brunt of his sex-fueled wrath, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow. 
Then, his fingers found your clit, rubbing accurate and pleasure-filled circles around and around, making your lips swell with intensity. You were going to come again, and you told him so,
“Johnny… you’re gonna make me come, baby.”
“Come,” he snarled down at you, his eyes wild and haunted, “Come on me. I wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me out. Come. Come. Come, lass. Come for me, pretty girl. Oh! Oh, there it is. Yes, yes, yes, good girl. Good girl. Fuck!”
He rode you through your orgasm and stalled, leaving himself inside of your fluttering walls, basking in the sensation, trying to catch his breath. Johnny sat on the couch and you climbed into his lap, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it back into your dripping hole. 
“Bonnie,” he sighed, kissing your neck and grabbing your ass in both of his hands, “You feel like heaven. God, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, don’t stop.”
You were rocking back and forth on him, and you could feel his swollen head rubbing at the end of your pussy, bullying your cervix, making you feel too full. 
“It’s too much, baby,” you confessed, squishing your breasts together and letting him move his mouth across your nipples once again, “You’re too big. Filling me up… I’m so full.”
“You’re so tight, lass.”
He said it like a prayer. His eyes were glassy as they stared up at you. All of his bravado and flirtatiousness was gone, and it had been replaced by boyish wonder. It was as if it was his first time to feel the inside of a woman, to be hugged, warm and wet, engulfed in her core and playing within her the oldest song known to man. You sang it for him, not for profit anymore. His bewtichment was complete. You were totally and completely ensnared by him. 
Then, he held you to him, clutching you to his chest and screaming out loud, braying and writhing beneath you. He was coming. You felt him pulse, over and over, spilling and foaming and frothing around the edges of your hole, soaking you from the inside. 
You rode him slowly, back down from his high, and he gasped with every roll of your hips, looking at you in some sort of horrible ecstasy. 
Mike’s bell went off in your ear.
“Okay, folks! Thanks so much. Let’s wrap it. I’m sure some of this is salvageable. Johnny, and uh… whatever your name is, you still owe me garden scene six and upstairs… um, is it pool table? It’s pool table. Wanna be back here tomorrow at two?”
Johnny gave an exhausted thumbs up, and so did you, finally sliding yourself off of him with a wet milky sound. 
“Um,” you tried to catch your breath, “Thanks, for helping me today. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
He looked at you quizzically, almost a little hurt. It was a confusing face to see, but you didn’t really know him that well, so you waited for his reply.
“Sure, bonnie.”
You untangled your legs from him and pulled on your robe, leaving him on the couch. You needed a shower and some brand of fast food, as soon as physically possible. 
The bathroom was steaming when you hopped in, and you were covered head to toe in coconut smelling soap when you heard a knock at the door. 
“Uh, come in?” You peeked around the glass partition.
It was Johnny. 
“Got room for one more, lass?”
You looked around behind him, half-expecting a camera to pop out. He noticed your reticence, and he shook his head,
“Nevermind. Forget I asked.”
“Hey, yeah. Sure, if you want. Come on in,” you moved deeper into the shower, letting him step into the billowing steam. 
At first, he was silent, just washing himself, scraping the suds over his body and sharing the water with you. But, then, he asked,
“Wanna get a bite? I’m starvin’ to death.”
“Me, too,” you laughed. 
“Class,” he smiled.
There was another long pause, and then when you turned off the water, he stepped into your space, too close to be friendly, 
“What if I was still hungry for you as well, hen? What would you say to that?”
The water dripped from the head of the shower in a soft tinkling pattern. You breathed each other’s breaths, inching closer and closer until your lips touched his wide chest, the hair smeared flat from the warm water, rivulets rushing down his belly to his crotch, dripping off of him and of you. 
You kissed his chest again, feeling him shudder under you as if he hadn’t just come inside of you minutes ago, packed with anxious excitement. 
Smiling up at him, you took a chance, 
“Your couch or mine?”
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Chapter 02
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saintship · 9 months
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humbly would like to request konig seeing s/h scars on his s/o for the first time :’)
fun fact i got dumped one time over em one time, my ex saw em on my thigh and was like “yeah no”
First of all I’m hunting this fucker down, what the hell??
People who get stranger’s IP’s do your shit
I’m so sorry that happened to you, that little boy did not deserve you, I hope you enjoy<3
SIDE NOTE I saw a headcanon on tiktok saying “König is NOT shy” And I kinda loved that so I tried to explore it a bit
Warnings: S/H scars, revealing of traumatic events
König x Reader
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Outer Patrol
Of all the assignment you cycled through, outer patrol was the easiest on the eyes. The forest surrounding the base consisted of thin birch trees packed together, so that slivers of sunlight would reach through and grace the east grounds. Your favorite was the early morning outer patrol with König—he shared your fascination with the forest, and slung a loose arm around you when it had been truly freezing last winter.
Now, in the warmth of July, the sun casted its light aggressively through the gaps of branches and leaves, the humid air clouding your thoughts.
The sticks and leaves crumpled under both of your boots, König bringing up the rear on the narrow path.
“Do you think there are bears out here?” You murmur, looking carefully through the gaps of the trees.
“Nein. We make too much noise..” König pointed out. The camp certainly made itself known during artillery drills.
You hum, letting the air settle in silence again. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, causing König to nearly topple you over.
“Hey!”
“Sh!” You hold up a gloved hand, staying as still as possible. Slowly, you lifted the other to point ahead of you, where a fox pawed at the ground, investigating the lush grass.
“That’s not a bear.” König’s whisper nearly made you laugh, but you swatted his shoulder instead, smiling.
“He’s so cute..” you whisper. The fox lifted its head, spotting the two of you and bounding away quickly.
“I guess it’s not too loud for him.” You turn around and walk backwards to face your partner as the path widens ahead.
“Maybe we’ll see kits in the spring.” König said softly.
“Aw..” You cooed at the thought, smiling.
The path continued, but there was a faint fork that led off to the right.
“Have you seen this?”
König shook his head.
You pushed back a branch, stepping through the threshold. The path was littered with overgrown ferns, bushes, and a few fallen logs you had to vault over. Finally, the path opened to a clearing, where a small stream expanded into a large pond nestled underneath a trickling waterfall. The rocky ledge slanted down, the falling water sparkling beneath the late morning sunshine.
“Oh..my god..” you breathed. You turned to see König’s reaction; he was transfixed on the water, his eyes shining under the dark paint and hood.
“This is insane..” you knelt by the water, removing a glove to feel the temperature. “Not bad. I bet people used to swim here.”
Suddenly, König’s pager buzzed, and he was broken from his trance to retrieve the device from his hip.
“König, outer patrol..” He greeted.
“Price is tellin’ me to inform everyone off base to not come back until the afternoon; apparently we’ve got more people than we’re supposed to have on the property, and the hounds are here earlier than he thought.”
Simon’s voice rang gruffly through the transmitter, sounding irritated.
“So just don’t come back for a few hours, yeah?”
“Ja.” König replied.
“Thanks, Ghost!” You called from where you knelt at the water.
“Whatever.” The line clicked, leaving them alone with the sound of running water again.
“Well, we couldn’t have been in a luckier spot to stay put.” You stated, pulling off your backpack. You set down your gun next to it and hugged your knees, watching the water.
“That is true.” König conceded. He shed the bulk of his gear, along with his weapon, but remained standing, wandering along the shoreline. He knelt for a moment, seemingly inspecting something, before standing again and tossing a stone sideways, the rock skidding a total of four times before plunging into the water.
“Woah!” You got to your feet, walking over to him. “You could go Olympic..” You found a stone that seemed thin enough, turning it over in your ungloved hand.
“Just turn your hips. Put your soul into it.” König instructed, enacting his ridiculous stone-skipping stance. You laughed a bit, but followed his direction, skipping the rock twice.
“Ha!” You threw your arms up, connecting your hands with König’s for a double high five.
“Not bad..” He chided.
The sun rose in the sky over the next hour, you and König perfectly content with skipping rocks, wrestling, and splashing each other. All the movement combined with the beating sun made for a layer of sweat underneath your uniform.
“Wish we could swim; I’m melting..” you laid on your back dramatically, feeling the warm stones through your shirt.
“Why not?”
“Because, we have work, and someone might- hey!” You sat up, gaping as König lifted his shirt. He was careful to keep his hood on, but dared to strip of his pants, boots and socks.
“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.
“Just to my waist!” König gestured to his bare torso, his black briefs and hood being the only fabric left on him. You watched as he waded in, the muscles of his back enough to have a warmth climb your neck. You look away, feeling uncertain about ogling your coworker.
“It’s so nice!”
You turned back to see him hip-deep, running his hands back and forth along the surface. The definition of his chest and shoulders was criminal, accentuated by the patterns of light reflecting off the water’s surface.
“Come on!”
“No way!” You grinned, trying to hide the sense of dread the idea brought onto your mind.
“I am willing to use force!”
“Oh, god..” you sighed, removing your boots and socks. You waded to your shins, rolling up your pants so they didn’t get wet. The water was cool, washing away the sweat prickling on your legs. “Happy?”
“I don’t think so..” He sang, wading back to the shore. The water cascaded down his lower stomach, along his thighs. You found yourself furiously studying the pebbles at your feet, rendering you unaware of König’s attack.
He lifted you from the water with damp hands, ready to drop you in the further depths. You yelped, laughing but terrified of coming back with a soaked uniform.
“Alright! Alright!” You shouted. “I’ll get in, crazy!”
A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, which sounded right by your ear as he set you down. You had felt the muscle of his chest through just a layer of fabric; the thought enough for you to avoid his eyes.
With all the laughter, you almost forgot the reason you didn’t want to undress in the first place. While König returned into the water, you pulled off your shirt, your sports bra being the only covering for your chest. The high-waisted underwear that you wore so your belt didn’t dig dents into your skin acted as bottoms, but you were hesitant to remove your pants. König noticed your labored breathing, returning to your side again.
“You don’t have to..if you really don’t want to.” He said gently, holding out a surrendering hand.
“No, it’s not..I just..” you sighed, irritated, and sat down in the sand.
“Is there something bothering you?” König’s gentle question shouldn’t have made you shrink the way it did.
“I’m sorry I pressured you, I didn’t-"
“König, it’s not your fault.” Your words escaped a bit snappier than usual, your shame building into frustration. “It’s..there are parts of myself you haven’t seen. Things that might upset you.”
König continued to look in your eyes, his concern drifting to confusion.
“There is nothing I would hold against you..” he assured. “If you want to do this, you shouldn’t hold yourself back, it’s alright.”
His words grounded you. He was right; a bodily feature is not grounds for hiding yourself away for the rest of your life when you don’t want to.
You nod, finding it easier to just get to it. Your belt came off first, the sound of the sliding leather deafening in the air of trickling water and chittering birds. Sliding your pants down your legs, the scars stretching over your thighs seemed especially defined under the sunlight. You discarded your pants, resisting the urge to cover yourself. You heard an intake of breath from König; a noise of realization.
“That is why you didn’t want to?” He asked gently.
“Scars like these don’t sit well with most people.” You murmur. Standing, you wade fully into the water, letting the water come up to your shoulders. König followed quietly, the same depth with his height letting the water only reach his sternum.
“I don’t think of you differently.” He admitted softly. “I’m honored you trust me to share something like that..I believe you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
You study his eyes for a moment, the water around you soothing your worries. “Really?”
König nodded, then let the silence stretch its legs between the two of you for a moment.
“Do you wanna go under the waterfall?” König asked.
You smiled. “Your hood will get wet..”
He hummed in realization. “I suppose you’ll have to go under for two?”
You laugh gently, swimming toward the waterfall with a splash at his chest. The water fell gently, soaking your hair and cooling your scalp.
“That’s nice..” you murmured, your eyes closed. “They’re totally going to know..”
Opening your eyes, you spot König already looking your way. The water is deep enough here that the edge seams of his hood are dipping into the water.
“I think it was worth it..”
You know he doesn’t mean it was worth it to escape the heat. Or threaten to dunk you underwater, or watch you tilt your head back under a glittering waterfall. You’d admitted something raw—deeply personal. There was a tie that bound you now, separate from that military based trust that everyone shared. With the others, you’d devoted the sacrifice of your body; your role in the fight. But to one Colonel, you had devoted your mind.
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glitterypirateduck · 3 months
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GPD's 2024 CoD Recs - John "Soap" MacTavish
Last Updated 2/29/2024
FOR UPDATES FOLLOW TAG GPDRECSSOAP
2023 REC LISTS HERE
Reminders:
Lists are updated about every 2 weeks, so check back for new content!
Please remember to reblog, follow, like, and/or comment on the author’s pages!
Most of the content I link to is mature. Read any and all warnings from authors before reading.
Some recs will fall under several categories, so they may appear in more than one list/post
Information listed next to link is a summary from the author. If one does not exist I will leave it blank or write a short one myself.
Please let me know if there are any broken links or errors.
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Domestic Bliss by @brewed-pangolin - You and Soap take the next step in your relationship, and his not so subtle attempt to rile you up in public ends with an impromptu session in the parking lot.
How to Adapt to Fire by @halcyone-of-the-sea - a Fireman Soap AU
Silk by @mykneeshurt
The Fox and the Hound by @the-californicationist - Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.
4Runner Wingman by @brewed-pangolin
Following Orders by @hiding-in-my-blanket-fort - When the conversation between you and your best friend, Johnny, takes a turn into heated territory, he can't hide his physical reaction. You decide to help him out and offer a little relief, as long as he follows orders.
Kitchen Quickie - Soap by @gloomwitchwrites
Dyin for a Taste by @tropes-and-tales - Face sitting with Johnny
Scottish Siren by @brewed-pangolin - There is something so hypnotic about Soap's mouth...
Got it From a Book by @bloodyknucklesforme - Nina's been reading a lot of 'romance' novels and wants to try something
Tailgate Movie Night by @brewed-pangolin - You and Soap take advantage of a warm summer's night to hit the drive-in. Yet halfway through the film, your attention gets pulled to a more tranquil scene before you.
Added 1/12/2024
Soap Catches His Roommate Reading an Erotic Novel by @minihotdog
Dirty Little Secret by @random-thot-generator - Being Johnny MacTavish's dirty little secret isn't easy, but you don't have the strength to walk away.
Life in Color by @lunarvicar - the 141 are back in Chicago for a job. Soap doesn't realize he's in for a lot more than that
Tea Master Soap by @brewed-pangolin
Thank you, Sir, Yes Ma'am by @brewed-pangolin
Waiting Room by @deadbranch - Soap finds himself in a strange pub.  It takes a while to figure out how he got there.
Pleasured Promotion by @brewed-pangolin
Added 2/2/2024:
Shut Up and Listen to Me by @greatstormcat
Breathe by @brewed-pangolin - Your first time being intimate with Soap is within the confines of his 4Runner and after a lengthy deployment. And he shows you exactly what kind of sessions you have to look forward to.
Everything That Ever Was by @deadbranch- Soap tries to give you space, but you can’t seem to avoid each other.  Something unexpected reopens an important conversation between you
Dinner and Dessert by @cordeliawhohung - all you wanted to do was relax after a long shift in the ER, but when you get to your boyfriends apartment, you learn you have yet another boo boo to take care of.
You Look Better as Mine by @shotmrmiller
Your Sergeant commits a war crime by @peachesofteal - you missed a check in
Challenged Territory by @brewed-pangolin - You play a round of rapid fire which ends with a quick session. But those bruises forming ignite the primal side of Soap and he takes it upon himself to mark you as his own.
Blue Eyed Casanova by @brewed-pangolin - Johnny Casanova pulls you in with his eyes, and you shake up his world with nothing but an unconscious whisper.
I'm Yours by @soapsgf - Johnny makes a heartfelt confession while in the bedroom with you. Using prompts "Say it again" and "I am yours".
Risk It by @waiting-so-long - After a visit to your family makes you doubt you’ll ever find happiness with a romantic partner, your roommate, Johnny, is there to show you that you’re worthy of love. No matter the risk.
I Need Your Discipline by @crashandlivewrites - Soap 'accidentally' sends you a dick pic. You decide to teach him how to take nicer photos. Using prompt 29: "Was this your plan the entire time?"
Demonstration by @groguspicklejar
Added 2/29/2024
Popcorn Fueled Menace by @brewed-pangolin
A Thief in the Night by @the-californicationist
Netflix and Chill Masterlist by @luvit
Arranged Marriage Historical AU by @bunnyreaper - you don't have much of a choice, forced to marry john mactavish to keep yourself safe. luckily, he will look after you, even on your wedding night.
Chasing Cars by @brewed-pangolin
What Are We by @gloomwitchwrites - Always deflecting the question, you push John for an answer.
You Have A Few Minutes Before You're Missed
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first-edition · 5 months
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Fox and the Hound
Sandor Clegane x reader
Chapter 7
Previous chapter here
Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 
CW for this chapter- SMUT, MINORS DNI this chapter is basically all smut, unprotected sex, p in v, size kink, praise kink (if you squint), aftercare, fluff, confession of feelings, deep pen., 18+ action, words, and themes. Fingering (fem reciv.), over stimulation, literally breathing the bed.
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Kicking the door open to your shared chambers sandor carrying you to the bed placing you down. 
“I-im fine sandor really I'm alright.” you say 
“Was she trying to fucking kill you?” he huffs. 
“Shall i fetch the maester now milord?” joss asks. 
“No joss i'm alright.” you say he nods. 
“Away with you!” Sandor barks out at him. 
“Thank you joss you've been helpful.” you say and get up going over to your desk and grabbing a small pouch of coins handing it to him. 
“Th-thank you, milady but I cannot-” he begins. 
“Take it. Get a hot meal from the kitchen and rest earlier tell them I sent you.” you say. You bow before thanking you again and leaving closing the doors behind him. 
You turn back to Sandor who stands by the bed. 
“I'm alright. You have to stop looking at me like I've got a gash through my stomach.” you say and pull off what's left of the cut dress. It easily falls loose into a pile of fabric on the floor. You sigh in relief as you pull out your hair from its updo, happy to have it back down resting on your shoulders yet still keeping half of it up. 
“What's that? Another deadly gift for the queen?” he asks dreadfully, seeing the black and yellow dress still hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. 
“No. It's nothing…” you say shaking your head combing your fingers through your hair. He looks at you knowing it's nothing. You sigh and look down at the dress then turn to face him. 
“I was going to wear it tonight…I had put an order into the seamstress two days ago for the festival. I-it was supposed to be a surprise. Your house colors.” you say looking down. It's quiet as you look down at your feet. Also have taken off your shoes. 
“Put it on,” he says. You look up at him surprised he would respond. 
“Wh-what?” you ask. He nods and repeats his statement again. 
“Put it on. I'll help you.” he adds. You nod and walk to it, taking the dress off the hook and laying it on the bed. He walks to the other side where you stand. You pull off your underclothes now nude once again in front of your husband but he's more focused on wanting to see you in the dress than anything. 
You step into the dress, pulling up the sleeves. You feel his hands on your waist as he trails them to your back and ties up the back tightening it just enough to fit perfectly. You take a breath before turning around to face him. His eyes look down to you moving up and down your body at your perfect form in the dress. Never having been more turned on from a woman putting on clothes.
“Wait.” he says you frown looking up at him when his eyes meet your face. He reaches up his hand and moves behind your head pulling the last pin from your hair letting it all fall down your shoulders tucking a strand behind your ear. 
“there…I like your hair down better. You look beautiful.” he says. Pulling his hand away. 
“There's one more thing I wanted.” you say. 
“What?” he asks wanting nothing more than to please you in this moment. 
“You can so no…but. I wanted to dance with you. At least once but I'm afraid I've lost that chance.” you speak. 
“Mm.” he says, taking your hand leading you to the empty middle of the room as he pulls you into him, his hand resting on your lower back, your hand on his shoulder. 
You begin to sway despite the lack of music. The sounds of the crackling fire, and the light clinking of his metal armor such comforting sounds as you move through the space. Moving around as he dances with you, his eyes never taken off of yours, your heart skips a beat everytime his hand is placed back onto your waist. He pulls away for just a second to twirl you.
“Sandor.” you speak, you meet him back in the center. He holds you still looking down to you waiting for you to finish as you look into his brown eyes.
“I love you.” you say. It's quiet almost making you regret confessing but his lips against your treasures everything back into you. Your arms wrap around his neck. He pulls you up off the grown spinning around once. You know he wouldn't be able to say it back but just tell him to give you a lift. 
He places you back down on the ground and you take his hand reaching one hand to your back pulling the string out of the bow he he tied loosening the dress all while walking backwards twords the bed. 
He stops you before the dress loosens enough to fall from your body. Taking your hand in his he pulls it up the strap of his armor set. You give him a smile as you unclip them letting his armor down. You pull off the pieces, shoulders, chest, you take off his dagger and sword belt. He removes his boots to be equally as bare footed as you now leaving him in his pants and shirt. 
He takes one last look at you in the dress before pulling you to him reaching behind you to loosen the ties enough for it to slip off you once again leaving you naked. 
Wasting no time your lips are on each other's hands searching your body. You pull off his clothing and hastily help him remove his pants so he's just as nude as you. 
He picks you up with your legs wrapping around his waist as he lays you down on your back still kissing your lips. You push on his chest pushing him away about to protest. You flip him over so he's on his back and you climb on top of him, your cunt already slick with arousal as your folds brush against his hardened cock. 
He lets out a grunt at your eagerness, you having been so submissive the first time now being more confident. His hands searched up your waist to your breasts giving them a squeeze, his thumbs brushing over your budded nipples. He sits up kissing your jaw and neck for once your height is now level. Your hand presses against his chest unknowingly pressing against the scar he first told you not to touch. 
You look down as he lets out a pained grunt. 
“I'm sorry.” you say. He shakes his head looking at you moving his hand from your breast to your cheek, warmth spreading all over your body as he presses his lips against yours once more. He takes your wrist in his other hand and keeps your hands over the scar before you can pull away. 
On your own terms you move your other hand down his sheet reaching his cock grasping it he groans at the feeling of your touch against him. You raise up a bit, lining it up with yourself. You moved him, the tip sliding up and down your wet folds as you tried to stay steady, your other hand holding onto his shoulder as you centered him to you. Sinking down onto you, you watched as he disappeared into you. 
A moan leaving your lips as he stretches you back open for the second time. He groans deeply burying his face in the crook of your neck, the texture of his scar tickling your neck, a welcomed sensation.  and moved him inside. The pure pleasure you both felt against each other. Sinking down further you engulfs him fully, now having barely adjusted to his size he fills you so well. You place your hand on your stomach feeling the bulge he leaves. 
You move your hips letting out a squeaky moan as he feels so amazing in this position. He kisses your neck finding the sweet spot to make you weaken into him back into the submission state you were housed in the first time you two bedded. 
“F-fuck s-sandor..you feel so good.” you let out a stuttered voice. 
He lays back onto the plushness of the mattress. His hand gripping your hips he views the fading bruises left on your skin only wanting to make more, to mark you up as his. Pure lust blows in his eyes. You look better than the banquet spread early. 
His thrusts up into you getting a moaning yelp from your mouth. 
“Say it again,” he says roughly. 
“Sandor..” you paint already needing to cum just from him entering you and grinding a bit. 
He thrusts up into you again, pleasure surging through you. 
“I won't ask again, little fox.” he says. 
“Ngh..s-so good.” you speak. Prompting him to fuck up into you again this time not stopping. Your nails dig into his chest as he fucks you your hair falling over your face. Two more thrusts and he has you early cumming. 
Your walls spasm around his cock clenching down. Only making him chuckle as you've given out so quickly wanting to last long to please him. But just your presence pleases him. 
You flip you both over, cock still buried inside of you. He pulls your thigh up against his hip resting the rook of your knee on the bone as he thrusts into you. His moans and grunts mixed with your noises fill the room once again. His face hiding in the crook of your neck wanting to be closer to you than he already is. 
“I love you..fuck I love you.” you hear him mumble. If it weren't for the fact that his mouth is close to your ear you wouldn't have heard it. But youre so glad you did. The sound of those three little words go straight to your core as you squeeze down around him causing your tight cunt to suck him in further somehow when he's already balls deep. 
Just like before he pulls your leg higher on his body pushing intro to hitting right up against your special spot one hand now placed behind your head gripping the headboard the other now between your legs thumbing at your clit. The sensation of movement added causes your back to arch in pure pleasure. 
Your head falls to the side, your hands once all over his body fall to the sides of your head gripping the pillow and sheets. Your moans muffled as you bring your hand to your lips biting the back of it. The sound of wod cracking hits your ears before sandor covers you from the splinters of wood from the now broken headboard he broke. 
None of it matters with how much and how good hes fucking you. His thumb is still toying with your clit overstimulating you making you cum for a second time. your hands feel numb and your legs begin to shake. The way you're squeezing him sends him over the edge finally as he roughly thrusts down into you surly bruising your cervix as he cums into you filling you so much you can feel it. 
Your moans are muffled as his lips meet yours and a passionate kiss. The lingering touches and caresses. Before he pulls out away from you. Without having to ask he moves off you pulling you into him letting you know he will not be leaving for the night. 
—----
Nothing could be more perfect than the way you wake up. Sandor sleeps with his head against your chest listening to your heart beat. Your arms around him cradling his head into you his arms strong arms engulfing your waist and ass as your leg is draped over your chest. 
You look around the room not seeing your ladies in waiting who are usually annoyingly roaming around the room. You look at the door seeing that it's latched. Most likely Sandor who got up after you fell asleep and locked it to make sure they stayed out. 
You feel his hand move up your back before he speaks. 
“Stop moving.” he says, his eyes still closed. 
You didn't realize looking around the room was causing a lot of movement. 
“Good morning.” you say kissing his forehead and face. 
“Mm” he grumbles his morning voice somehow deeper than usual. 
He shifts from the position he's in reluctantly but only to move over you and press his lips against yours in a morning kiss. Pulling away he looks at you seemingly glowing to his vision. You get a look at his beautiful brown eyes before he pulls away from you sitting on the edge of the bed you crawl over to him wrapping around him his warmth paced back onto you in the cold room. Even though you're wearing his shirt which he’d put on you during the night.
“Don't go.” you say kissing his scared shoulder blade, a sword scar from a mishap during training. He places his hand on your arm that's around his neck looking down and kissing it before trying to pry you off him. 
“Nooo.” you whine he chuckles, shaking his head and finally succeeds in taking you off. He stands walking over to his scattered clothes before picking them up and beginning to dress. 
“Please sandor.” you whine. Moving to get out of bed but once you stand your legs immediately turn to water, as if you're a baby deer learning to stand for the first time. He hears a soft thud as you hit the ground with a little shriek. 
He turns to you seeing you grabbing the bed pulling yourself up chuckling to himself. 
“Didn't mean to disable you little fox,” he says. 
“That's alright, I don't need to walk today anyway.” you say brushing it off before standing again your legs stronger this time regaining strength. 
“Go back to bed,”  he says, gathering his armor pieces, setting them on the table by the burnt out fireplace. You watch him as he does this. You sit on the bed, legs crossed, his shirt more like a dress on your body. He Looks around for a shirt as if you’re not wearing it. A smile forms on your face as you watch your shirtless lover. 
He takes notice of you sitting and smiling at him. 
“What are you smiling about?” He huffs and notices you have his shirt. 
You shake your head, continuing to smile at him.
“nothing.” You answer. 
“You find my struggle amusing?” He says walking to you making you giggle and scoot back on the bed. He crawls over to you and you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him to you as he kisses your face and neck. 
“I’m gonna need this back now.” He says gruffly. 
“Mmhm.” You answer by pulling him close to you. 
His hands move, hiking up the shirt to your waist. Before you pull him close enough to kiss him. He happily returns it. As his large hand rests under your breast giving it a squeeze causing a gasp put out you breaking the kiss allowing him to pull the shirt up and off of you leaving you naked to his view. 
He gets up and off you walking over to the rest of his armor pieces as he places the shirt on himself, seeming morphing to fit him perfectly. 
You whine now wanting him. He puts on the armor you once took off. 
“Come on little fox don’t act like that.” He says clipping the last of his armor on. 
“What am I doing while you're gone? Relieve myself on the pillows?” You huff. 
“Such crude words.” He grunts. 
“Bad luck to leave your wife wanting and nude. Many things could happen: she could invite a man over clouded by her judgme-“ you're cut off with his hand around your neck pulling you to him a giggle leaving your lips. 
About to speak he decides not to and leaves you with a deep kiss. You shift standing on your knees, his hand tracking down your waist one to the front farther down, swiping your folds, his thick digit entering you, making you gasp out gripping onto his armored shoulders as you moan out of the kiss. 
He pushes in a second thick finger thrusting them in and out of you, his thumb firmly pressed against your clit. His other hand firmly grips your hip keeping you in place. His eyes never leave yours.
“Ngh…s-sandor.” You moan you only promoting him to grab your ass making you moan out as his fingers sink deeper fucking you over and over pressing against the spongy spot against you. Your walls clench around his digits, knees giving out as you cum. You grab onto him wherever you can as he rides out your high.
Pulling his hand away from you You pant at the residual over stimulation. 
“You speak like that again you won’t be able to walk the castle halls for the next day and half.” He says leaning down pulls the sheets over you and around you. giving you one last kiss he turns and walks out making sure not to wipe you off his hand wearing you like a prize for the day. Your hand maidens who were waiting outside rush in making you sigh. 
they stop in thier tracks looking around the room at the scattered garments from you, the broken bed and you wrapped in the bed sheet, hair messed.
Chapter 8 here
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ashen-wing · 1 month
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At last! My heart is complete again!
I had such a blast working on this. It is everything I ever dreamed of for an animated film of this story. I always imagined the film that never came to be. The rights had been bought by now defunct FILMATION back in 1981, but for reasons I do not know of, it never materialized. Granted, rights are often bought for books in the anticipation of a film getting made, but they never happen. That is a lot more common than we think. I imagine it was much the same for this film, so I doubt it went into pre-production or anything before it ceased to be. It's a shame, as I would've loved to have seen this film as a kid alongside Fox and the Hound, Watership Down, Secret of NIMH, Balto and American Tail. I think I would've had a childhood crush on Bracken. Or maybe Rune... I was a weird kid who often attached herself to strange characters, which still follows me today.
Anyway, it was fun to visualize how a VHS cover would've looked like had that film been made, complete with frayed edges and general wear and tear to show its age and how loved it was in someone's home.
And yes, the U rating was completely intentional, both for laughs and face-palming irony. It cannot be an '80s animated film without a good dose of traumatic imagery/themes somehow sneaking past the radar. I like to think the person in charge of rating this "film" fell asleep at the desk or didn't even watch it and just slapped the U rating on there. Because, all animal stories are for children, right?
As previously mentioned, I look to capture various major scenes in the book in this Don Bluth '80s film style in the near future. I just need to warm up to this style before then and compile a list of the scenes from beginning to end. And maybe make a few model sheets to ensure the characters are on-model between scenes.
Thank you for looking.
Duncton Wood © author William Horwood
Art by Me [HT art | 2024]
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Show Them
Tamlin x Reader. If you don’t like it, don’t read it :) I feel like after all of the events of books 2-5, he’s learned how and why he was wrong, and he’s been kicked a lot while he was down. It’s about time for him to redeem himself and find love too ok?? So here is my rendition of the start of his redemption arc. 
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, trauma
Word Count: 8.7K
You huffed a sigh, wiping your hands at the hem of your thin dress, ridding yourself of the flecks of mud and dry blood. With a squint, you picked at your palm, trying to pull the thick wooden splinter from your skin. Fourth one in an hour, you rolled your eyes to yourself, glaring at the pile of wood and debris - what previously held the roof over your head. 
You eyed the deep scratches embossed in the wood, the ones that no doubt belonged to the Naga that roamed the nearby forest. They’d looted and torn your house to the ground, much like your neighbor’s home and the shops in the town. After the High Lord had disappeared years ago, the hierarchy had fallen - there were no more sentries to guard the village, to threaten the Bogge and keep the wraiths at bay. 
Not that you had many belongings, but you needed to find as much food as you could. You dug around for scraps of food, money, jewelry - anything of value that you could trade for shelter. But fuck, you came up with nothing. Your house was nothing but a pile of dust, all your belongings gone with it. And it was getting dark, the sun almost completely disappearing behind mountains in the distance. 
You’d have to beg your neighbors for sanctuary, even if just for the evening. They were no doubt already locking up their homes and arming themselves with all the blades and spears they could find. Deciding you would return in the morning to continue, you turned away from the pile of remains - only for your eye to catch on a glimmer in the woods. 
The shadows had already long fallen over the forest, the black of night seeping in from the treeline before you. You were met with a pair of eyes, glowing and bright green, the golden sunset mirrored in the glossy shine. 
Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart stilling in your veins. There were many creatures that roamed the Spring woodlands, many more creeping in on the territory now that it lacked a High Lord. The water wraiths from the Summer Court encroached in the waters; after hearing that their neighboring sisters no longer paid the Tithe, they swam over in droves. Some were shifters, moving onto the unprotected lands to mark for themselves, others were sirens, with shimmering eyes that promised the brightest future, so beautiful that they lured the young Spring males to the coast, robbing and drowning them for pleasure. 
But these eyes were different, a deep emerald, slanted inwards and narrowed - canine, feral. Studying its prey, waiting for attack. You’d heard rumors of the Autumn Court hounds, the ones Beron and his sons roamed around with. How they could track Fae down between courts, tear their throats out without even revealing themselves - some were rumored to have two heads. But you watched those shining green eyes until the beast turned away, tucking itself back between the trees and disappearing into the darkness. 
___________________________
You were back on the street at the break of dawn, graciously thanking the family that housed you for the night, offering to bring them anything valuable you could find from home’s wreckage. You kicked at the dry sticks and stones on the dirt road leading to your little plot of land, cursing at the fallen trees and dying brush. 
It seemed the Spring Court curse wouldn’t be lifted any time soon. You’d worn a godsdamned mask for years - a doe: the most innocent animal of Spring, silent and small in a court full of sly foxes and brash wolves. The supposed cursebreaker returned to your court only to tear it apart from the inside out, playing spy for the Night Court the whole time. The Autumn Court emissary had left and your High Lord had disappeared - no heir or kin left behind. He abandoned you all and took his power with him. 
Some said he left and sought refuge in the Summer Court - that only Tarquin would be kind enough - naive enough - to offer him solace. Others thought he died, that Feyre killed him and there was nobody else to take the powers of the High Lord. You weren’t sure you believed either of those rumors. Nobody was brave enough to tread to Tamlin’s manor and find out for themselves; only the Mother knew what creatures resided there, Fae or otherwise.
The pile of wood and stone remained untouched overnight, you had to drag yourself over to your old land. It wasn’t worth anything, nothing was anymore. It felt barbaric, almost: digging through the mud and destroyed earth for something to barter with. It seemed that your court had been through nothing but devastation since you’d been alive. You were only just a hundred years old when the land was cursed by Amarantha - spent years in a mask followed by a stint under the mountain. When the curse was lifted, the Spring Court lasted about as long as the celebrations. As soon as life turned back to normal - whatever that truly was - the Night Court infiltration was exposed, Pyrthian was brought to war, and your home was destroyed. 
You groaned, both of your hands wrapped around a heavy log of wood, surely it was the heaviest in the pile. You groaned, gritting your teeth as you tried (and failed) to move it. Your hands slipped, dry bark breaking off the wood beam, causing you to slip and fall backwards right on your ass. You cursed, denouncing the Mother. Perfect start to the fucking day, you’d thought. A whole day of failure awaits. 
“Do you need a hand?” 
Your head snapped up, nearly giving you whiplash as you turned to the side. You narrowed your eyes, the tall male standing just in front of where the sun was rising, shadow cast over his front. But you made out his light hair, glowing in the bright light, a halo cast around his head. His shoulders were so broad, his white shirt tight around his arms but loose around his waist, the fabric shifting as the wind blew past. He held a hand out to you, palm raised. 
Your gaze dropped to his waiting hand, which you gladly took. His skin was rough, calluses around his palms and over his fingers. He pulled you to your feet, almost too easily, and had you balancing over the pile of bricks and shingles. “Thanks,” you mumbled, releasing his hand and brushing the dirt off the bottom of your dress. No use - there were days old mud stains all over it already. 
“Is this your home?” His eyes surveyed the debris you both stood over, face still shadowed from the sun. 
You rolled your eyes. “It was,” you’d scoffed, propping your hands on your hips. The male frowned, his shoulders hunched a bit. You cocked a brow at him, at the rainy evergreen smell that cascaded off of him. His blond hair was unkempt, sun-frayed and tangled at the ends. You took a step closer, onto the large wooden beam that had just bested you. 
“Sorry,” he murmured, cheeks tinged pink, chin tilted downwards. Ashamed.
You nodded, standing taller, walking across the wood so you were positioned on the other side of him. The male turned with you, not allowing his back to face you. He mirrored you, perhaps in self defense, as you looked like you were the one scouting your prey. His features became sharper as he faced the sunrise, shadows looming over his face now washed away. 
Those emerald green eyes watched you carefully, narrowed, just like those from the forest. His sharp brows furrowed as he watched you assess him, as you put together the pieces rather quickly. 
“What would you be sorry for?” You questioned the High Lord. “Did you knock down my house?”
Tamlin didn’t respond, just stood in front of you, those light eyelashes caressing the tops of his high cheekbones as he blinked at you. His jaw clenched, tongue ran over the back of his sharp teeth as he mulled over something to say, only to come up short. 
You took his lack of response as an answer in the negative. “Then you have nothing to apologize for.” 
“I didn’t stop them,” he replied, voice hoarse. It was as though he hadn’t spoken in years, as if he’d spent far too long roaming the forest in his wolf form. His body was wracked with shame, remorse, and anguish. He didn’t feel the pain when he was outside his Fae form - he didn’t have to bear the anguish of witnessing what happened to his court while he disappeared into the brush. 
You nodded in agreement. And while you spent these past hundred years angry, just so frustrated at what had become of your life, you couldn’t find yourself to be upset with him. 
Your home had been destroyed, your family gone, everything from the life you once had stripped away entirely. But what could you do? The past had already come and gone, there was nothing you could do to change it. 
The male before you felt the opposite, though. His mind was reeling with the resurgence of the memories from the past century. The masks, his friend and former lover gone - ran away to the Night Court, to the male that had murdered his family - under the mountain, the war, the Cauldron. 
Gods, all of it was his fault.
His court was destroyed, but it wasn’t the war, it wasn’t the other High Lords infringing on his territory. No, it was all him. It was the lack of his presence in his court that destroyed it from the inside out. And looking at your face, the dirt smudged over your brow, your cheeks splotched from spending days in the sun without shelter, he’d wanted nothing more than to tuck his tail between his legs and disappear back into the woods. 
But you were too captivating, your gaze leveled him completely. You didn’t tear into him, didn’t yell at him, didn’t hit him, not the way he knew so many others wanted to. He didn’t know how to help you, how to apologize for abandoning his court. He didn’t have any money to give you, no doubt he assumed the Spring Court estate had been robbed and looted. He wasn’t sure what valuables were even left anyway, after passing on money and jewels to the Archeron family. 
“I’d like to help you…” Tamlin trailed off, the words lost. His eyes roamed over the fallen house the two of you stood on. “Rebuild.” His green eyes flitted back up to you, to the doubt and surprise laced over your features. You swallowed, shoulders shrugged in indifference. Gods, you probably hated him. Wanted nothing to do with him. “If you’ll let me.”
“I’m not sure what there is to rebuild,” you replied, kicking at some stone with your dirty boot. “I’m just looking for...” What were you looking for? “Anything.”
Tamlin nodded in understanding. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to come back to, didn’t know what he would stumble upon after he’d returned to his home court. While he was no stranger to being alone, to feeling like an outcast, utterly unworthy of his position in life, he’d never been able to relate to his old friend Lucien so much. While the Vanserra had been banished from his home court, Tamlin felt like the Spring subjects would band together and exile him from his own court, too. 
But the male stood still, nothing but the wind blowing his tousled hair around his sharp jaw. He was surely waiting for you, for your permission to return to his life in Spring - a new life, perhaps: a chance to rebuild your home and his life. He needed to earn his place as the High Lord, hell - he needed to learn what it meant to be a leader, to earn the trust of the Spring citizens. 
“Well, help me move this, then,” you said simply, gesturing to the dark wood. 
You’d quickly come to realize the male just had pent up anger, stress that may have been best relieved by throwing stone and brick around. He was quiet, not speaking unless you’d ask him a question or give him direction to move some debris. Tamlin watched you carefully, just as he had the other night, eyes glossy and pointed, observing how carefully you tended to anything that may have once had value to you. But you hadn’t made much progress, finding just scraps of clothing, a broken necklace, or some rotten food. 
“I was in love once, too,” you stated out of nowhere. You kept digging through the pile of broken furniture and wood, head tilted downwards, eyes focused on the task at hand. 
Tamlin’s ears perked up and he straightened, wiping his hands on his trousers to remove some of the mud that had caked his palms. He wiped at his brow, the sweat that had built up over the past few hours. He wasn’t sure what to say, you gave him nothing to work off of, offering nothing but confusion for the poor male. 
You looked up at him only for a moment, plopping down on your ass with a sigh, resting your aching legs. “It can make you do some fucked up things.” 
He almost laughed, would have, if it didn’t burn his throat on the way up. “Even more fucked up things once you’re out of it.” 
The sound that pushed past your lips sounded like absolute heaven. It was the only salvation the male needed after years spent growling at beasts in the woods. The giggle that erupted from you - the pure surprise at the High Lord’s comment - it made his heart stop. 
But he couldn’t help the deep stabbing feeling through his gut. Guilt. He shouldn’t be enjoying the sweet sound of your laughter, the shine of the sun in your hair, your pretty smile. He shouldn’t enjoy life anymore, not after what he did to yours - to everyones. It was why he shut himself out, far in the thick Spring forest, away from all salvation, any shred of comfort he might have been able to find. After Feyre had left, after Rhysand returned to twist the knife in his once stone chest, there had been no point, no return at High Lord once everything had crumbled. 
“Well, Tamlin,” you sighed - the first time hearing his name on your lips. He quite liked the sound of it, but promised not to get used to it. “I think it’s about time we fix some of those fuck ups.”
He rolled his eyes, kicking a heavy log from the top of the pile. “And how do you suppose I do that?” 
You huffed another breathy laugh, raising your head and squinting up at him, the sun risen nearly fully in the sky. “You do nothing,” you replied simply, propping your elbows on your knees. “We are going into town.” You opened your palm, that broken gold necklace 
And Tamlin felt like folding himself in half and kneeling over that damn pile of rocks. The necklace you’d worked for hours to find ready to trade at the town center. He was absolutely sick. His mind flashed back to the days of the Tithe - how he sat atop his throne, gold jeweled crown atop his head, waiting rather impatiently for the Spring Court subjects to pay their dues. In a court where he did next to nothing to save them - after fifty years of looking for a way out of Amarantha’s plan - they still owed him. 
Tamlin had a lot of regrets. 
He didn’t know how to act, how to rule a court. Didn’t know how to save his people, how to make up for the lost years. 
There was a lot to make up for - he knew it better than anyone. 
He just didn’t know how.
You watched his mind reel, how his sharp green eyes fell to the pile of wooden scraps beneath his boots. His dark blond brows knitted together, lips pressed in a firm line, jaw clenched. His chest moved up and down with every breath he took, each one he forced in his lungs. The golden strands of his hair moved around his pointed ears, dancing over his shoulders in the wind. 
“I don’t think I can,” he replied, voice just above a whisper. 
You pushed yourself to your feet and reached out for him, for the tanned skin of his forearm. You held your fingers around his wrist, the touch shocking the male out of his daze. His breath caught, his mouth and throat suddenly ran dry. “You have to come back. You need to return to us.” 
He tried to force himself to swallow, to will his voice to work and reply. To us. He was the only one who could fix what he’d fucked up. He didn’t know exactly how, but you were right. It would start with the return of the High Lord, with the promise of forgiveness from his subjects. He’d have to beg for forgiveness, pray that they would grant him amnesty. 
He nodded though, which was all he could muster the strength for. He let you keep hold of his wrist - he didn’t even know how long it had been since another Fae had touched him - and guide him off the pile of debris, not missing how your boots skidded along the loose bricks. He reached out with his other hand to steady you, a firm hand on your hip as you stumbled to a halt, managing to remain upright. 
By the Cauldron, you felt good. Warm, delicate, you smelled like the gardens after a fresh rain. He dropped his hand just as quickly, before his mind really fell into the gutter. Perhaps the years of solitude had finally gotten to him, he thought. He had officially gone mad. So he stayed composed, letting you drop his wrist from your hand - not without a backward glance at him. 
“We’ll see what we can get,” you continued, beginning to walk towards the center of the town. You lived far enough on the outskirts that not many others passed by, none alerted to the fact their High Lord had returned. “The blacksmiths will probably be the only ones who will trade for it. Nobody really has use for gold anymore.” 
He noted the drop in your voice, the bleakness that laced your tone. Tamlin walked only a half step behind you, yet he towered over you, his chest cleared above your head, shadow fully engulfing you. “How is the food supply?”
You knew it felt foreign for him, especially to ask now after years of his disappearance into the woods. But you could tell he was trying, gathering his bearings and reassessing the court - where he needed to start first. “Not great, honestly. There are only a few who have enough weapons to hunt in the woods.” 
Tamlin knew all too well what lurked in the woods. They would be lucky if they could catch deer or rabbit, let alone an elk or mare. “I’ll see what I can manage to catch tonight,” he replied grimly, lips pressing into a frown. Under the moon was the best time to hunt, where there were surely no endangered Fae out, when the large beasts went to roam the woods, using the cover of night to avoid the hunters. The only thing that would be able to catch them lurked just behind you: a wolf. 
You eyed the clouds that began to roll in overhead, dimming the sun’s bright light. “That would help,” you replied, hoping the words of encouragement would ease his mind, but not sound too desperate that they scared the male. 
You walked the rest of the way in silence, peaceful albeit awkward. Tamlin’s fingers twitched at his sides - it was almost as though he barely remembered how to walk as a Fae male. You knew those green eyes that watched you from the forest were his. The second you saw the High Lord that morning, you realized you’d stared into his wolfish eyes - hungry and chilling, sad and remorseful. 
His gaze shifted from left to right constantly, walking through the clutter of buildings and broken wood. Half the buildings had been looted, some torn down entirely. Fae gathered around stands and what was left of the remaining shops. He felt their eyes burning into him, heard the murmuring ringing in his ears. Some were confused, others outright scared, but none approached him. 
You took Tamlin to the dim stone building, the only light pouring in from the window and cracks in the walls - no faelights or candles in sight. “He and his wife have the baked goods - there aren’t many other iron pans left in the town, he’s got the bulk of them.” Your eyes flitted around the shop, at the pile of iron ingots stacked on one of the tables. “I could never manage enough to get one, to bake my own bread over the fire.” You shot Talmin a sharp look, then eyed the shop owner across the room. “Good morning, Oleander,” you greeted the old male, hunched over a table lined with gleaming metal knives. 
The hairs on the High Lord’s neck stood, a chill running down his spine at the sight of the swords hanging on the wall, the bows and arrows piled in the corner. “(Y/N),” he replied gruffly. “What brings you in?”
You turned back to Talmin, getting eyes on the male to ensure he was still in toe. “I was wondering what you might give me for this gold.” You held the necklace out to him, the cracked pendant and broken chain gleaming in your dirty palm. 
“Ah,” he breathed, grabbing the necklace with his own filthy hand. “Given the condition, I’m afraid I can only give you…” He squinted at the old pendant, what seemed to be a depiction of the Mother with flowers braided throughout her hair. Tamlin’s mother once had a similar one. “Last week’s bread.”
“Old bread?” Tamlin couldn’t help but scoff, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 
The blacksmith’s eyes show up toward him, as if his eyes and ears deceived him. Oleander, clearly half blind, squinted at the High Lord. “Do you have an issue with my pricing?” He questioned Tamlin - who was certainly not used to the bite back from his subjects. “I think I’m being more than fair to the female.” He looked Tamlin up and down. 
“Fair?” Tamlin barked a laugh. “You own all of the weapons and food in the town and you’re telling me what’s fair?” He didn’t miss the sight of you backing up, right out of the corner of his eye. You inched towards the door, palms facing outwardly behind you, feeling as soon as your backside touched the door jam. Oleander stood, broad and burly, inching forward toward the both of you. By then, the shop had dimmed, dark clouds rolling over outside. The Fae had gathered around to watch, to see the High Lord for the first time in nearly decades. 
“Oh,” he laughed, standing, grabbing one of the polished knives. He raised his voice and stepped closer to Tamlin, cornering him out the door in the same direction you were fleeing. “The High Lord has returned to preach on decorum.” Tamlin dropped his hands to his sides, unclenched fists, not looking to start the physical fight, but prepared to defend himself. He could surely take the old male on easily, even if he had been armed with half the swords in his collection. “After years of abandonment, of leaving his people to suffer at the hands of the beasts, he’s come to exhort fairness and righteousness.” 
The Fae outside watched as you and Tamlin joined them outside the shop, many of their interests piqued at the sight of the golden haired male. 
“He’s back?”
“I thought he had died…” “He would be better off that way.”
“Never thought I’d live the day I would rather see Beron than him.”
“Shut up, he’s returned to help.” “No way - he’s just going to start the Tithe again.”
There were giggles amongst the murmuring crowd, laughing surely at the old Fae male that had the High Lord backing out of his shop. There were no words he could say to ease the crowd, to change their minds, to earn their trust. He wanted nothing more than to shift back into a wolf and hide away in the forest alone. 
“We didn’t come to make trouble, Oleander,” you spoke up calmly, empty hands raised in surrender. “He’s come to make peace.” 
He rolled his eyes, amongst another burst of whispering from the gathered crowd. “Peace,” he spat. “That’s what we all used to know before he abandoned us and left us for dead.” 
Tamlin’s jaw set, anger flashed through his eyes. There were some agreements exchanged by the other Fae. There were very few who sought to give their High Lord a second chance. 
Fuck, second or third? Or fourth chance? Tamlin couldn’t count. 
“We’re leaving, okay?” You inched closer to him, right until your shoulder pressed up against his bicep. “But please - ” you turned to face the crowd, what Tamlin could only assume were your friends, others you could consider almost family. “Please, just keep an open mind. If you’d been shunned, abandoned in the woods, you’d want us to accept you back.” There were a few nods, but many blank stares as you began walking away from the town, back towards the forest clearing. “No more hatred. We’ve had decades of spite, of shame.” Before you turned on your heel, before you grabbed Tamlin’s forearm to pull him away with you, you added: “Let us find peace again. Together: united as one court.” 
Fuck, Tamlin thought. You’d spoken all of the things he should have said. He wondered if you’d practiced that little speech, if one day you secretly hoped he’d come back so you could preach that very surmon. 
Tamlin pushed that thought far down in the depth of his mind. 
But perhaps Oleander had a point. Perhaps they would all be better off taking care of themselves without the rule of an artificial High Lord. They surely managed to come this far. It wasn’t like Tamlin would be able to protect the town himself - he’d have to rebuild armies before infrastructure, to guard the town from the forest before they could sift through the remains of the down. 
You’d dragged him along nonetheless, guiding him anywhere but the town. It was back toward your home - what remained of it, anyway. But the sky was grey by then, dark clouds shielding you both from the once bright sun. The soft crackle of thunder reverberated from the Summer Coast. “I’m - ” you cut yourself off with a sigh, dropping his arm, but continuing on your trek. “I’m not sure where we can get shelter for the evening. I don’t think anyone will let us stay for the storm.”
You were surely not on your way to make any amends, though. You just kept walking back towards your little plot of land, not that there was anywhere for you two to take cover until the rain washed away. 
Tamlin kept his eyes trained in front of him, not daring to spare a look at your shining eyes as he spoke. “Follow me.”
So you did. You almost didn’t recognize it, afterall, it had been almost a century since you’d walked that path. Nature had reclaimed most of it, the trail completely gone. Tamlin’s long legs stepped over vines and fallen logs, and he held your hand for balance as you followed in his footsteps - he’d even lifted you through particularly muddy patches, simply lifting you up and placing you down before him like you weighed nothing. 
The walk to his manor would have taken a mere half hour on horseback, perhaps just over an hour had the path remained. But it would take a few for the two of you to find your way back to the Spring Court Estate in the condition of the forest. Especially as the rain started to fall, the heavy droplets hard against your skin as they fell from the sky. 
You walked for what felt like the whole first half in silence. Nothing but the sound of Tamlin slicing thick leaves and branches, clearing what he could from the once barren path. You listened to the rain, to your own ragged breath as you struggled to keep up with the male. 
You watched his golden hair darken as it became damp with rain. His white linen shirt clung to his back and arms, you’d noted the ridges carved deep into his body as his muscles flexed, working around the forest that overtook the path. He slowed once the two of you stumbled upon a clearer area, falling into step beside you. 
You could feel the tension radiating from him, his fists were clenched at his side, the hairs on his arms stood up. He wasn’t used to wondering the woods as a Fae, hell - he hadn’t been in Fae form in years. Those woods felt all too familiar to him out of his wolf form, reminded him of all the times he’d fucked up in that very spot. He needed to distract himself, clear away the memories of his friend Lucien, his once lover, his newfound family. 
“I was in love once,” he said, voice gruff, muffled from the sound of the rain falling against the wide leaves. He repeated your sentiment from earlier - an acknowledgement of his past, perhaps even an apology. “But I’m pretty sure she was fucking my emissary.” 
You’d nearly choked. 
“That’s - uh - ” Gods, what do you say to that? 
He shrugged. “My feelings for her weren’t fake,” he continued, nonchalantly, as though he’d had nothing but time to come to terms with what had transpired. You supposed he did, though, and were sure that was the only thing on his mind. “I just didn’t know how to act.”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep what little body heat you had, as the cold water sent shivers down your spine. 
He shrugged. “Someone ought to hear the truth - ” Tamlin paused, only for a moment, as his green eyes narrowed in on the estate before you both. Trees covered the once stony walls, vines and thick ivy woven up all the windows and over the balconies. “You seem to be the only one who will listen.”
“I don’t not believe you, Tamlin.” You let him lead the rest of the way, pushing past the thick brush that guarded you from the estate as you neared the large castle. “Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are.”
At that, Tamlin dipped his head, turning to the side only slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your solemn expression. The rain had dripped down your face, over the curve of your nose and over your cheeks. He admired the way they clumped on your eyelashes, how you didn’t have a care in the world all covered in rain - perhaps you had more important concerns. Much too worried about where you’d sleep that night, where you next meal would come from, if you’d have shelter from the beasts, than to worry about his sob story. 
But you caught his gaze from the corner of your eye, where you’d found those bright emerald eyes washing over your form. Shadows cascaded down his straight nose, his eyelashes nearly touching his cheekbones. You’d wondered if it was the wolf in him that gave him those long eyelashes and thick hair, his sharp teeth and chiseled jaw. He carried himself like a High Lord, shoulders back and chest puffed out - perhaps the closer he got to his home, the more normal he felt. It was a routine, the same path he’d often walked with his friends: Lucien, Bron, Alis, Hart, those that worked for him yes, but also the only ones he could consider truly his family. 
Tamlin used the small knife he had to cut though the thick vines over the stairs. He’d moved each of the fallen logs, twice as heavy because they were waterlogged, and cleared the pathway to the front doors. He wanted to create a wide opening, should you decide in the middle of the night that you’d want to escape - run away from him, from the court. He didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner - he scoffed to himself, he apparently had a knack for that. 
He’d opened the door for you, watching as you gathered the hem of your soaked skirts and your muddy boots squished against the stone steps. You nodded in thanks, unable to move your eyes away from the entryway. The ceiling was fully glass, and despite the rain and clouds, cast a looming light onto the marble walls and floors. The rain echoed in the walls, the fat droplets hitting the roof hard. The heavy curtains and canvases on the walls had been ripped to shreds, rock and stone cracked and scattered along the hallways. The grand staircase was broken, missing a few steps, the railing half gone. 
You wondered what war went on here, while Tamlin tried to forget exactly that. 
He hadn’t been to his home in years. But he knew what would be left to salvage, the rooms he’d lost the energy to tear completely apart. So Tamlin followed you in, guiding you down one of the corridors. “We should be able to find some blankets and clothes this way,” he said, voice just above a whisper. It was so deep that it vibrated in your bones, sending shivers down your freezing spine. 
He’d stirred you through the wide halls, pulling you away with a firm hand on your hip when you’d tried to move toward the great dining room. His hand was hot on your waist, right at the curve of your back as he pulled you one step closer to him. “Not that way.” His eyes were fixed on the mahogany doors, hiding whatever may lie beyond. While he was almost certain he’d left you with the idea there may be Naga or wolves or some other beasts beyond those walls, he didn’t want to correct you with the truth. The gross truth that that’s where he left the elk Rhysand brought him so long ago, no doubt rotted away and disintegrated into the table - that, or it would have been swept away by some creature, perhaps for food or simply to play with its carcass. Either way, he didn’t want to find out. 
There were holes in the roof, in the floors above, that leaked through the halls. You stepped around the puddles, dodging the stream of rain that fell from the ceiling. Tamlin pushed open one of the many doors in the long hallway, a dark bedroom on the other side. “It’s not my room, don’t worry.” 
You turned up to face him. He looked weary, uneasy being back in this estate. “I wasn’t worried, Tamlin.”
He released a breath, his chest visibly falling at your words. He followed you in, closing the door to shut out the cold that the rain had brought to Spring. He’d brought you to one of the guest rooms, never had been occupied by a member of his court. It went untouched during Tamlin’s rage, there had been no evidence of life to destroy. He’d managed to rummage around and quickly find some candles, digging through drawers and closets to find a dry book of matches. 
While Tamlin lit the room, you were drawn to the soft couch in the corner, pulling every blanket and piece of cloth you could find. Gods, it had been so long since you had a good night’s rest, since you sat on a plush sofa and had the softest blankets around you. But you had to wait. Your dress was soaked, you’d been dragging water and mud behind you that whole time. “Do you have any…” you trailed off with a sigh, assuming the male didn’t have any spare dresses lying around. 
You actually would be more concerned if he did. 
“There may be something,” he replied, picking up on your predicament. He sifted through the armoire again, the flickering candles aiding his search. He’d come up with some clothes, a few linen pants and loose shirts. He held everything out to you, a pile of clean fabric. 
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn clean clothes. Tamlin noted how your eyes widened, like you’d hit the jackpot, like you’d never seen pajamas before - clean clothes. He cursed himself once again for cursing his people, for abandoning them and forcing them to live in destroyed homes and a looted town. 
You pulled a handful of clothes from his offering, your wet skin crying out for warmth. “There’s a bathing chamber that way.” He nodded to the door far off in the corner. “Doubt there’s any water but…” he trailed off with a shrug. 
“Thank you,” you replied, legs practically begging to take you to the bathroom and change into the pajamas. So you’d scurried away, grabbing a candle to light your way into the bath chamber. The mirror was cracked, covered in dust. But you quickly shucked off your wet dress, grabbing the shirt from the pile and wiped yourself dry, wringing out your hair in the fabric. You pulled on the next shirt, the huge cotton long-sleeve that fell halfway down your thighs. No doubt it had been designed for the High Lord, perhaps even his emissary. But you’d take what you could get, throwing on another shirt for warmth, then the linen pants. You fisted the waist, pulling one of the strings from your dress bodice to tie the pants snugly around your waist. 
Through the dirty mirror, you made out the dark circles under your eyes, your tired eyes and wild hair. You suppressed a sigh, too tired to care one bit. So you returned to the drawing room, finding the High Lord in a fresh set of clothes as well.
He was trying to busy himself, sifting through the pile of blankets you’d managed to create, even adding a few more to your pile. He didn’t want to be rude, to fall onto the soft couch or bed without first making sure you were taken care of. 
His heart stopped when he turned, seeing you swimming in the Spring Court clothing, even just those too-large pajamas. You looked so relieved, so comfortable and, honestly, ready to pass out for the evening. So he cleared his throat: “You can have the bed.” It was all he said, added a head nod towards the other end of the room, where the mattress was, nothing but some sheets atop it. “I was going to give you these.” He gestured to his pile of blankets. All the soft looking ones in one pile, the thin scratchy material separated behind him. 
“We can share the bed, no?” You made your way toward him and grabbed an armful of the blankets he’d folded. “We could both use the nice bed, I’m sure. I imagine it’s been longer for you than me.”
Tamlin cocked a brow, watched as you trudged over to the bed, dumping everything atop it. “I’ve managed just fine.” 
You glanced over your shoulder at the male. “Bring those other ones,” you called out, ignoring her words. “We’ll probably need them if this rain doesn’t let up.”
Tamlin shook his head to himself but did as told, not in the mood to argue with the female, especially not the beautiful one wearing his clothes. So he brought over the rest of the blankets, even the scratchy ones, and helped you make the bed. It was haphazard, sure, some of them not big enough to cover the whole bed, a patchwork of covers, some yours, some his, then the ones stitching you together down the middle. 
You climbed in immediately. 
The sigh you let loose from your lips almost had Tamlin on his knees before you. Your back cracked when you laid down, plush mattress cushioning your spine in a way you hadn’t felt in a long while. You slept on the hard wooden planks of your neighbor’s floor since your house had been torn down, freezing and stiff. You hadn’t remembered the last time you’d had a full nights rest. 
The same went for the male beside you. He’d been holed up in some cave on the Spring-Autumn border, where the wind whistled past and the cold seeped through the rock into his bone. His thick golden fur only did so much to protect him from the chill. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten himself killed out there, and he didn’t even want to think about everything he himself had killed in those past years. 
“What made you come back?” Your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he blinked a few times before pulling the covers back and joining you on the opposite end. He was careful to leave space, to not encroach. His palms caught on the scratchy fabric of the blanket he’d laid on his half, calluses hard and broken, left from his many years of tearing apart flesh with his paws. 
“I was tired of being a coward,” he replied humbly. “I ran away from everything that happened. Pretended like it never happened and shut myself away.” He ran a hair through his half-dried hair, fingers getting tangled at the ends. 
“You were alone?” It was a cross between a question and a statement, he wasn’t sure which you were going for - probably the former. 
“I’ve been alone my whole life. Everyone I come across either leaves or tries to kill me.”
He felt you turn, shift on your side to gaze at him with what little light remained of the candle. Tamlin kept his eyes trained on the covers above him, unable to face the pity that probably laced your features. “Did they try to kill you?” Your voice shook, afraid to even ask the question, terrified of the response. 
He offered you a half shrug. “They left…willingly,” he’d added, mulling over the words in his head. “Though I suppose I not-so-willingly let them. I don’t know how to keep friends, it seems.”
“I suppose that’s better than the other option.”
Them killing him. “Better when it’s not your own family, too.” It was no secret the previous High Lord had a knack for starting wars, for sending his sons to fight his battles for him. Tamlin had a reputation far before his powers even matured - his brothers’ even more so. But what you didn’t know was that they were ready to kill him the instant he matured into a stronger male. He wasn’t glad they were dead, but he was glad he was safe - even if only for a little while. He had found few friends before the curse, a lover afterwards, even. But just like his father and brothers, he could not show love, no matter how hard he willed it, he kept fucking up. 
That’s what it felt like, at least. He supposed he was the jester of the Spring Court in the end. The friends he’d had and the lies they told him: you never made me feel like a prisoner - her voice rang in his head. Soon they were gone, twisting the opposite tale to the male that murdered his family. Nothing could be forgiven in Prythian, no reconciliation to be made between courts. There was no coping, no help from his friends, no one to confide in. So he did the only thing he knew how: shut himself out. Just like he had his former lover, keeping her safe in that very estate. 
He kept every Fae who remained in Spring safe from himself, even if that meant casting himself into the woods. 
You shifted only a bit, but close enough that you reached over and tucked your soft blanket around his shoulders, over his chest that had nearly gone cold from the rain and chill outside. You were close enough that Tamlin could pick up on your flowery scent, that he noted the small hint of honey and cherry blossom lingering along your skin. 
It had been so long since he’d touched another Fae, since he felt someone care for him. He couldn’t help it - his head fell onto your shoulder, right where the crook of your neck met your collarbone, a perfect fit for the crownless male. “And how have you fared, Tamlin? Now that you are a free male?”
Free. 
Free from what? From his duties as a High Lord, surely he’d abandoned them years ago, letting the Naga and the beasts of the Spring Court take over the sacred land. Free from Amarantha’s glamor, the shackles she’d chained him with under the mountain? Free from the binds she kept on his mind, the nightmares - memories - he relived each evening? 
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be free from it. 
He didn’t know how to cope. Not when the only people he’s ever cared about left. Not when his best friend left him when he clearly needed the most help, not when his lover left to wed his mortal enemy, then bare his child. But he apologized to her, for all the trauma he must have caused, locking her away, fearful of who else from Prythian would come to spite him by taking away the female he loved, by he saving her mate. 
He cursed himself. Surely, someone ought to have a happy ending. Might as well have been her. 
He was upset, in fact. When it all came down to it, everything was traced back to his anger. He was blind to his own emotion, it’s what caused him to act without thinking - a strategy he’d never seemed to master, not like the other High Lords. It ended up causing him his newfound family, his Court, it got the Archeron sisters caught and thrown into the Cauldron, it spurred the war. He was a failure, he’d lost the Spring Court and his pride alongside it. He’d been played like that godsdamned fiddle. 
And Tamlin let himself lie in that dark cave night after night, rotting in a lifetime of regret. 
He could only shake his head, nose rubbing against your skin that poked out from the loose collar of your  - his - shirt. “I swear I will rebuild the Court, (Y/N),” he whispered, breath warm on your skin. His lips just barely touched your skin as he spoke. “I promise it, I’ll run the beasts out and fix the mess I’ve made. Even if nobody believes me, if they’ve lost all faith in me.”
Your hand fell downwards over the blanket you’d placed over him, fell down the soft fabric over his chest. “Actions, not words.” He tilted his head up, and those deep green eyes met yours instantly. His gaze washed over your face, over the sheer determination and strength, but in utter admiration as you spoke. “Show them.”
You lifted your hand, fingers twitching in hesitancy, but your mind worked too fast. You brushed your hand over his cheekbone, over the strong jaw and tanned skin. He nearly shivered, nearly broke out in a godsdamned sob. 
Tamlin was fighting to keep his emotions intact, to stop himself from absolutely crumbling apart in the safety of your arms. He slowly shifted upright, sitting beside you, back against the headboard just as you sat. You never moved your hand, save for your thumb running over his cheek, tracing where the light stubble had grown in over his jaw and cheek. 
His own hand fell to your hip, safely above the covers. But the added weight of him caused the shift, the simple weight of his large hand on you sparked something inside of you. 
So you leaned in. 
You didn’t know what it was. If it was the fact you’d hadn’t been held in years, the fact you laid in bed together, cold from the rain and nearly out of candles. If it was the fact that he’d opened up for what probably was the first time ever, the male with the worst reputation - his ill temper, his tendency to fight, how godsdamned beastly was - laid out and vulnerable in your arms. 
Your lips met his softly, a firm enough kiss where you felt equally matched, as if he, too, was waiting for you to do it; but soft enough that he would pull back if you did, that he would restrain himself from going further, should you realize you’ve made a mistake. 
You did the opposite, though, barely breaking away for breath, parting your lips just enough to gasp for air before pushing against him once more. Your hand raked through his long hair, so Tamlin had no choice but to do the same. His fingertips wove through your own hair as his hand rose from your hip to cradle your jaw, tilting your head to the side. 
He tasted sweet, not what you were expecting from the male whose scent lingered with the sultry forest and fresh morning dew. He was gentile, too. His tongue moving only to trace your bottom lip, nothing more. Your lips moved over each other in sync, breathing in tandem and letting those soft sighs escape between the two of you.
You pulled him closer, winding your other arm around his neck as you laid back, sliding further onto the bed where he had to drop a hand beside you to hold himself up. But he kissed you anyway, like you were the last breath of life for that dying male. 
Perhaps you were giving him life, that spark he needed to reignite the male inside of him who he once was. 
Your hand trailed down his chest as he continued deepening the kiss, lips moving quickly over yours, growing hungrier, more desperate. You fisted at his loose shirt, not even bothering to untie it, just slipped your hand underneath from the bottom where it hung so loosely from his body. His abdomen shivered under your touch, your fingertips tracing the hard rigid muscle. Tamlin sighed against your mouth, trying (and failing) to suppress the groan that built up in the back of his throat. 
So he’d pulled away, the sound of your lips parting from his loud and wet, a sound he’d practically forgotten about over the past decades spent alone. His forehead dropped against yours and you felt the tickle of his hair against your cheek. “I can’t - I’ve already caused too much destruction. I’ll hurt you.”
It didn’t feel real - he had to stop himself, break free of the dream he was surely living in. Another female, not only giving him the time of day, but who cared for him without even knowing him. He huffed a loose laugh, and muttered to himself: “I’m going mad.”
His lips were still far too close to yours. They barely touched as you spoke. “Take it out on me.” You tilted your jaw up, just barely high enough to capture his lips with yours. “I can take it, Tamlin.”
He shivered, I’ve heard that before. “I don’t want you to have to.”
You peered up at him where he gazed down adoringly at you, from underneath those long light eyelashes of his. He’d bent down for one more kiss, all his passion put behind that one last time of your lips pressed together. 
He only pulled away when he ran out of air. 
He slotted down beside you, his arm curled under your shoulders, the other crossed above the blankets, the piles of soft and scratchy ones, and fell over your bodies to rest on your hip. You fell asleep with your face buried in his chest and your arm flung around him, dreaming of the promise tomorrow held. 
538 notes · View notes
imarvelatthestars · 9 months
Text
Fireworks
Pairings: Sergeant Hound x f!Reader
Warnings: none! just 4.9k words of tension & cuteness
Notes: Hound's appearance was inspired by some very cool art by heidiss on twitter. I also dropped a quick reference to @samspenandsword Fox series, The Coffee House, which truly sold me on being a Fox girlie.
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You feel borderline sick. Thirty solid minutes of chasing down your sweet, stupid, panicked massiff from the local park to, well, wherever in the Sith hells you are now and not only do you feel close to collapsing, but your chest is tight and aching from adrenaline and anxiety. He’s a good boy, really, he’s such a sweetheart and he can be so fun and friendly once he gets to know someone, but Jaxjo’s also easily startled. The two of you have been working long and hard on soothing strategies for when he’s overwhelmed, for warming up to and trusting well-meaning strangers, but this day has gone from bad to worse in a matter of hours. 
Some blocks down the (mercifully) mostly deserted walkway, you can see Jaxjo’s rump as he darts under a bench after a speeder zooms too close for his comfort. It hurts your heart to see him so worked up, but it’s also sending you into a spiral. What if he gets really scared and gets lost? What if he lashes out at someone and you have to put him down? What if another speeder comes by and he jumps out and everything goes horribly wrong and he gets hit? What if what if what if what if? Maker, you don’t want to lose your little boy. He makes your life so much brighter and happier. What if- 
Another firework goes off, another problem to add to the already substantial list, and you feel your eyes start to pinprick along the waterline. Why not add a grounded explosion? A Separatist attack, maybe? A mugging? Just make a night of it! And then, as if you weren’t already at your wit’s end, you catch a flash of plastoid armor, white and red and gray, and your stomach plummets to your feet. 
Jaxjo doesn’t see the Corrie at first, he’s too distracted by the remnants of fireworks sparking out overhead, but the Corrie sees you. Of course he does. Him and the other trooper doing rounds with him. You notice their helmets tilt and twist a bit, probably to allow for a conversation as they consider why you’re out in a back alley all by yourself at dusk. 
You ignore the troopers. You whistle as loud as you can in that specific way that only Jax could recognize and start jingling his leash, and thank the Maker, it works! His head jerks to the side, tongue lolling out, and his body language softens for a moment. Sweet boy, he’s still so scared, but he knows his mom, he knows you mean safety. 
“C’mere, boy!” you call as encouragingly as you can despite your throat threatening to close up on you. “Jax, c’mere!” 
The Corries have stopped their patrolling and are now fully watching you. One of them, the one on the right with the strange looking helmet, has his arms crossed over his chest. This probably means they’ve decided you’re their evening entertainment or they’re lingering to see if you need help. Maybe? You haven’t interacted with enough troopers to accurately gauge what’s going on under those helmets. 
“Sorry!” you shout across the street, a hand pointed in his direction. “He’s just scared of the fireworks!” 
As if on cue, another one lights up the steadily darkening sky and the resulting boom is loud enough to rattle you down to your bones. Jaxjo whines loud and low. Then another firework goes off and your massiff goes bolting out from under the bench. He scrambles into the middle of the street, throws his head back and forth with the whites of his eyes on full display, and for a moment you think that he’ll come running right to you and you can finally take your boy home, but he barks, shivers like a leaf in a storm, and takes off at full speed, fangs bared. He’s zeroed in on the Corries. Oh Maker, no. 
“Jaxjo! Jaxjo, no!” All logic goes flying out the window. Every special cue and direction you’ve learned to keep both him and yourself calm, it’s gone in an instant because it’s like your worst nightmare come to life. He’s going to attack one of the troopers and then you’ll have to put him down, probably even get fined on top of it and put on some ‘incompetent massiff owner’ list that’ll ban you for life, and and- 
The trooper in the strange helmet steps forward. He’s not afraid of Jax’s growling, even though he really should be. You’re sprinting forward as fast you can, heart in your throat, whistling and shouting, and the trooper just holds out his hand and speaks. You don’t know what he says, but it’s like a switch flips in Jax’s brain. He stops mid-stride and just stares. Another firework goes off and Jax starts rather violently, but he doesn’t run. 
It’s like you’re watching some kind of nature holo and this Corrie trooper is the reincarnation of Stirwin Eve. Within a matter of minutes, Jaxjo has crawled his way to the trooper’s feet and is cowering into his shin guards while the trooper gently pats his back. It’s magic, plain and simple. 
You’re so stunned that you don’t even know what to say. You know something comes out of your mouth, some vague approximation of awestruck thanks, but you’re hardly aware of it. All you can think about is the fact that your boy didn’t go wild and bite a member of the Coruscant Guard and that he’s not going to get transported to the pound and put down because of your own stupidity. 
The other trooper, the one whose armor looks more like what you’d expect, clears his throat. “You really should keep him on a leash, ma’am, especially during a fireworks display. It’s not safe to have massiffs off-leash in the city.” 
A streak of irritation flares up behind your eyes, but you manage to swallow it with a smile, albeit a forced one. “Unfortunately, he broke out of the park earlier and I’ve been trying to catch him for the last half hour.” I’m not usually inclined to letting my anxious wreck of a massiff free when the mood strikes, is what you want to say. You opt for biting your tongue instead. “It won’t happen again, sir.” 
The first trooper finally looks up at you. It’s quite the sight – a big anxious massiff, a Corrie squatting down next to him and offering treats and pets, and that strange helmet that keeps throwing you for a loop. He doesn’t say anything. He’s definitely looking at you; you can feel the weight of his gaze even through the visor. It’s compelling enough that when he extends his hand and wordlessly asks for your leash, you hand it over without a fight. 
Jaxjo is quickly clipped on by his harness and the leash is returned to you loop first. The trooper pats him once more, then stands, and it hits you then just how intimidating a figure he cuts in the lowlight. The kama, the broad shoulders that bear his dark gray armor, the blaster rifle hanging from his free hand, the jagged triangles carved into his helmet flaps that look oddly reminiscent of massiff fangs, and the streaks of red over the crown of his head, it’s all a reminder that before you stands a soldier and officer of the Chancellor’s forces. 
For kriff’s sake, he answers to the fucking Chancellor. You’re so damn lucky right now, you ought to get down on your hands and knees and thank every star in the sky that Jax didn’t completely lose his mind! 
“Thank you.” The words sound strangled and foreign. “Sir. Uh, s-sorry, sir. It was an accident, it won’t happen again.” You vaguely recall already saying this, but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate. “Thank you.” 
Five minutes later, you’re left standing under a streetlamp with a citation and leash in one hand and a serving of treats in the other. Jaxjo tilts his head back to look at you properly and whines. 
“I know, buddy, I know.” Your head is starting to spin and the fireworks are only going to get worse. “Let’s go home.”
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The knock that shatters the comfortable silence of your mid-levels apartment the next day sends Jaxjo into a barking frenzy. “Just a second!” you shout, although if you’re even audible is doubtful. You manage to get him into your bedroom after a bit of finagling and the barking only continues, but this way it’s at least manageable. 
“Maker, I’m sorry,” you start as you press the door controls by the entry, “he gets all worked up with strangers and-” 
You’re met with an eyeful of gray chest armor and massiff fangs painted on to a helmet, a hint of a vision screen under the red and white visor. Oh. 
The two of you size each other up for a long moment until the trooper finally speaks and you feel some kind of dread curl up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m here for a follow up on your citation last night, ma’am.” 
“I... wasn’t aware I needed one.” 
The helmet tilts ever so slightly to one side. “It’s standard procedure for massiff incidents.” 
At the risk of sounding repetitive - “I wasn’t aware there was an incident, sir.” 
It’s one thing to be given a citation for having a massiff off-leash. You can understand that, even if it sucks. But to basically be insulted in your own home? That’s an entirely different story. 
There’s a huff in between Jaxjo’s barking that accompanies the Corrie’s shifting body language. One of his hands settles on his right hip and he dips his chin a bit, perhaps to look at you more directly? “If I could come inside, ma’am, I’d be able to explain better.” 
“I’m not under arrest or something, am I?” 
And you could almost swear you hear him laugh, but that would be ridiculous. And rude. Impertinent, even. “No, ma’am. Now may I come inside?” 
He’s tall. You noticed it last night, but you notice it again when he’s able to stand in comparison to your furniture and appliances. And he’s fucking built, too. I mean, it’s ridiculous. His thighs alone are enough to make you do a double take. Not that you’re intentionally looking, of course, but you do have eyes. They almost bug out of your head when the helmet comes off. 
It strikes you then that you’ve never seen a clone without their helmet on, not up close. You’ve always been aware of a flash of brown skin and usually dark hair from what you’ve caught on the news or when you happen to pass by the barracks, but Maker, you never thought they looked this good. Angular brows above kaf-colored eyes, a long, broad nose, pursed lips, and a beautifully rounded jaw and chin decorated with greyish black tattoos that echo the massiff design on his helmet. Between that, his dark hair that’s grown just long enough along the top to start coiling, and the thick trunk of his neck, and it’s a wonder you’re still standing. He’s gorgeous. 
You’re spared the embarrassment of getting caught oggling him, though (for which you send a prayer of thanks to anyone listening), because he’s busy studying your front room. “Where’s Jaxjo?” he asks. Right. Back to business. 
Your head turns in the direction of the alarmed barking that’s slowly morphing into a restless whine. “Uh, he’s in my room. I didn’t want him getting too riled up and slipping out. Why-” 
“I’m a specially trained massiff handler. I run the CG’s K-9 unit.” He pauses for a moment to peel off his gloves and toss them onto the back of your sofa where he’s balanced his helmet. You make an effort not to look. “Which means I’m also in charge of handling massiff incidents with the public.” 
“But there wasn’t an incident,” you sigh. “He didn’t bite anyone, or hurt anyone, he was just scared. You even managed to calm him down.” 
The trooper raises an eyebrow. “As his handler, you should be able to control him yourself.” 
And there’s that spark of irritation again, quickly blossoming into a full flame as heat spreads across your face and chest. “I can. I didn’t realize there was going to be an unplanned fireworks display or I would’ve kept him home yesterday. But there was. He got out, I chased him down, and I would’ve been able to calm him down eventually, but you just happened to beat me to it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the entire truth either. You’d been worried sick last night about Jax’s behavior. You just don’t want this guy to know that and it’s making you angry. 
The trooper’s hands move to settle on his hips as his ribcage steadily expands and deflates. His head is tilted toward the floor as he listens to Jaxjo whine. He thinks for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally glancing in your direction once more. 
“I’m sure your boy's a good one, ma’am, and I can tell he means something t’ you. But you’re also concerned about his behavior and that means I’m concerned, too.” Can he see right through you? Surely you’re not that transparent. “Why don’t you let him out and I’ll see what we’re working with?” 
Woah. There’s no we. There’s you and Jaxjo, and that’s it! However this man is able to see through your frustration and pinpoint exactly what’s bothering you, you’ll probably never know, but just because he’s wearing Corrie red doesn’t mean that he can just waltz in here and claim concern over your massiff’s behavior! You have half a mind to give this trooper a piece of it when his hand reaches into your line of vision and settles on the back of the sofa, just inches away from where your elbow brushes the fabric, and you still. You swallow. You look up. 
His voice is gentle when he speaks, thoughtful. “I’ve been working with K-9s for years now. I can tell when something’s off and respectfully, ma’am, I picked up on it from you.” 
It’s like the entire planet comes to a screeching halt. You almost can’t find it in you to be mad when he’s speaking so softly. Instead, you feel dazed and more than a little helpless. 
“He’s a shelter rescue, isn’t he?” 
Kriff, is this guy psychic or something? Maybe he has Jedi mind powers. 
“Yeah, uh, I got him from the shelter about a year ago.” Your voice is all congested from the effort of holding back your tears, but the Corrie is polite enough not to mention it. “He’s just scared, that’s all. He was a stray before I got him.” 
He smiles a bit, it’s little more than a quirk in the corners of his mouth, but the way his cheeks dimple causes the light to catch on a scar you hadn’t noticed at first. It’s a grouping of three faint, jagged lines that run from just below his eye to his jaw. Massiff claws. 
“I’ve worked with ones like him before and they’re not lost causes. I might be able to help,” he prompts. His brows have angled upward and it gives his entire face a softer look. “May I?” 
Jaxjo whines again and starts scratching at the door. He’s a good boy, really. He tries his best. He just has some issues you haven’t been able to figure out yet. It hurts that all the work you’ve put in over the past year hasn’t fixed it all like you thought it would, but now there’s an opportunity to make things better. Someone who knows more about massiffs than you do and is willing to help. 
In the end, though, is there really any question? You’d do anything for your little guy. 
You nod and offer the trooper a half-hearted smile. “Sure. Thank you.”
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He’s amazing. They’re both amazing. Hound works hard and Jaxjo works even harder, and you’re truly proud of them both. It’s been nearly three weeks now of retraining and reinforcement. Jax has learned that some people are safe, people like Hound and his fellow troopers in the Guard, he’s remembered that even when he’s afraid, you’re there to protect him, and most important of all, you’ve learned that the Coruscant Guard isn’t as bad as you always thought it was. Even if they technically work for the Chancellor. 
It’s also been three weeks of seeing Hound in a new light. He charmed the pants off Jaxjo and without even meaning to, he’s nearly charmed yours off into another dimension. Maker, he’s funny and smart and incredibly patient. He has this specific way of smiling that’s reserved and comforting, and it never fails to make your heart race, even if he’s just smiling at another massiff. And despite all his strength and the intimidating aura his armor, tattoos, and scars give off, he’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. 
So of course, you had to go and fall for him. Of all the inconvenient, idiotic, irritating things you could’ve done, you just had to catch a glimpse of the man beneath the persona and decide that he was the one you wanted. Stupid. In what world would he ever fall for you, the woman who was a nervous wreck upon your first meeting, the woman who couldn’t properly train her own massiff, the woman that he only met because his buddy had to give you a citation? Not to mention, the man is so handsome that he’s painfully out of your league. He ought to be arm candy for some rich holo star or a beautiful senator, not, well, you. It’s a lost cause. Totally doomed. 
You want to ask him out for kaf. There’s a place about five minutes from your apartment that makes the best kaf on the planet and the owner’s known for being friendly with the clones. (You’re pretty sure her name is Beanie, but that could be just a rumor.) Hound’s bound to be the most comfortable there, it’s in a public area so he doesn’t feel trapped in your place and you don’t have to track him down by the senate or the barracks. It’s a great idea and you know if he says yes that it’ll be a nice time. You hope, at least. You really, truly hope it will be. You’re just not sure that he’ll say yes. 
It takes the entire training session for you to work up the courage to ask, which only serves to distract you when you should be paying attention. Your mind keeps wandering to every possible ‘what-if’. What if he says no? It’ll be embarrassing and he might not help with Jax’s training for much longer, but you’d be okay in the end. It wouldn’t kill you. What if he says yes? Well, you’ll probably forget how to speak and make a fool out of yourself, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen already. What if he ditches you at the café? What if he shows up? What if he enjoys himself? What if you enjoy yourself? What if your hands touch when you reach for the napkins and he looks into your eyes and then he leans in and- 
“...ink your buir’s stopped paying attention, eh boy?” 
Jaxjo wiggles his rump and snuffs in Hound’s direction, which is enough to properly pull you back to the present. You blink the romantic haze from your eyes and give your best apologetic smile; Hound simply laughs. 
“Sorry, just thinking. I’m paying attention, I promise.” 
You receive a disbelieving eyebrow arch in response. “Must be serious. You’re not usually this distracted.” 
You take a moment to compose yourself before you blurt out a goofy response. The last thing you need is to spill the beans before you’re even sure if he notices you’re a woman. So you watch the way Jaxjo forces his snout under Hound’s palm, how his tongue lolls out over his fangs and his eyes perk up when Hound gives him a good scratch by his ear hole. He’s so good with him. You’d even go so far as to say - 
“You’re good for each other.” 
That sends both of his eyebrows rocketing up. “Yeah?” 
Your heart goes all warm and fuzzy. Dumb. Stupid. Embarrassing. Crush. Dammit. “Yeah. He responds really well to you and I can tell you’re really good with him. He trusts you.” I trust you, is what you leave unspoken. 
“Well, he’s got a good role model,” he says after a moment. “I hope you’re not trying t’ give him to me because-” 
“No! Kriff, no, of course not. I just... I dunno, I noticed.” 
Hound smiles and his dimples go straight to your heart. “He’s a good boy.” 
“He is.” 
The room goes quiet apart from Jaxjo’s panting and the wild thumping of your heartbeat. He probably can’t hear it. Probably. Sure would be embarrassing if he could. Or if he could see it jumping out at your throat. You lay your palm flat against it just in case. 
“Is that what you were thinking so hard about?” 
“Yes” is what you mean to say. “No” is what comes out. 
“Then what?” 
You gesture vaguely. “Oh, just...” Anything, literally pick anything! The flexing of the muscles in the back of his hand catches your eye. For kriff’s sake, anything but that! “You’re probably gonna be leaving soon, once he’s properly trained.” Okay, okay, that’s good. Viable excuse. Good job. And then your mouth runs away with you again. “And I’ll miss having you around.” 
Death would be a less painful option than whatever fresh hell your current reality is. You make a frantic attempt at backpedaling by clarifying that you and Jax would both miss him and all the very professional advice and help he’s given you, but the more you speak the more your ears start to burn and you start to fold in on yourself. This is quickly turning into a transport wreck and there’s seemingly nothing you can do to stop it. 
Normally Hound’s laugh would be enough to make your cheeks burn and your stomach go all fluttery, but right now it only makes you feel like an idiot. You squeeze your eyes shut, focus on being a totally normal person who knows how to have a totally normal conversation. 
“Heh. Sorry about that.” Like you just bumped into him in the lift or you accidentally cut him in line. You can’t look him in the eyes. Totally normal. “My tongue got all twisted up. That was silly.” 
Jaxjo whines when Hound steps around him. You’re close to whining yourself, you’re so embarrassed. You want to go hide in the bathroom for ten minutes and simply never speak to another soul ever again. Surely that will solve everything. 
“What d’you think, Jax? D’you think your buir’s being silly?” 
Hound’s smiling that terribly fond smile of his and you know he’s looking at you, trying to catch your eye, but you refuse to glance any higher than his nose. That beautiful nose. You’re not sure why it does something for you, but it certainly does. You can’t help wondering what it would feel like pressed into your cheek if he kissed you. 
He takes another step and now he’s standing right in front of you, towering over you, the breadth of his shoulders taking up your entire field of vision. He’s so close that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. Except you’re not looking at him. There’s a spot on his cheek where one of his scars meets his tattoo that has your attention. 
“What does that mean?” you ask. “Buir?” It’s a poor replication of the way he says it. 
“Parent. Mom for you, cyar’ika.” 
Maker, why is his voice so soft all of a sudden? And he’s so close! You can smell his cologne, musky and masculine, and it’s so intoxicating that you have to fight to keep your eyes from rolling back. What is this man doing to you? 
“Do you think about that often?” 
When did your throat get so dry? “About what?” 
The lump in his throat bobs when he swallows. “Me leaving.” 
Danger! Danger! There’s a siren going off in the back of your head. All that bravado you’d been saving up since the start of the session is oozing out of your ears. He’s getting way too close to the truth of the matter and now that he’s there, you’re not sure you want him to know. You’re sure he’s just playing with you now and it should make you mad, it does, but then... he smells so good and his skin looks so soft and you really, really like him, and won’t he just give you a chance? Would that be so bad? 
“No.” 
“Are you sure?” Hound’s exhale hits your cheeks. “Because I’ve thought about it.” 
He doesn’t mean it the way you do. He can’t. You want him to. Does he? 
A surge of adrenaline gives you enough courage to look up through your lashes and properly gauge his expression, and you swear your knees go weak at the sight of his pupils blown out and his brows knit together in the softest expression he’s ever made. You might even venture out to say he looks nervous. 
“I’ve been dreading the day he doesn’t need me anymore.” His voice is trembling a bit, but its timbre is low and rough and that stunning accent of his seems thicker now. “Then I won’t have an excuse t’ come see you anymore.” 
Oh. The realization hits you so hard that you have to take a step back, lean into your sofa to keep from toppling over. He wants to be here, he comes to see you on purpose. He... likes you? The way you like him? 
Your hand settles at the hollow of your throat as you attempt to find the words to express yourself. “Hound, I... I hope I’m reading you correctly. I mean, I hope-” 
“Do you need me t' spell it out for you?” he breathes. 
Fuck, maybe you do. You nod. “Maybe?” 
He smiles, his cheeks dimple, your stomach devolves into flutter-bys as he rests a hand on the sofa backing right by your waist. He’s caging you in, slowly but surely. You’ll let him. His scent and his chest fill your senses as he crowds around you until you’re completely pinned to the furniture and the only other place to go is into him. Your mind starts racing because he’s so impossibly close and he’s even more beautiful, and what if he can feel your stomach against his, what if he can see your every pore and stray hair, and what if he likes you and what if he doesn’t? 
“I’d like t' kiss you.” 
Finally, blessedly, you smile. “I’d like that, too.” 
His touch is feather-light on your cheek, but you can still make out the callouses lining the palm of his hand, the scent of leather and sweat and blaster residue. Jaxjo huffs. And then Hound kisses you. He’s warm and soft, just like you imagined he would be, and the taste of him is pleasant. There’s a hint of kaf lingering on his lips that you absently chase after with your tongue, but he takes it as a cue to open up for you. Your tongue stutters for a moment and he starts to pull back once he senses it, but you can’t let him pull away, not when this is everything you want, when he’s here and willing and so, so sweet. 
Your hand cups the back of his neck as you surge forward and sweep your tongue into his mouth, up and over his teeth until it rubs against his and he sighs against you. It’s all a blur after that. His fingers wind up fisted in your clothes and your hands are pressing into his chest, smoothing over his shoulders, rubbing over the shaved section of his hair, and you can’t stop a single one of the happy, contented little sounds that he manages to pull from you. 
Until Hound suddenly lurches into you and you both go toppling over the back of the sofa. Hound winds up going literal head over heels and lands in a very undignified pile at the base of the sofa while you end up half on, half off the cushions with your feet dangling over the top. Jaxjo’s happy little face pops up between your ankles. He’s all eyes and tongue and drool, and the very picture of feigned innocence. 
You finally find your courage between bouts of laughter when you tilt your head so it’s hanging off the sofa and dare to nuzzle Hound’s shoulder with your nose. His eyes are twinkling when he looks at you. 
“Hey,” you chuckle. 
“Hey.” 
“You wanna know what I was really thinking about?” He nods and you think you feel one of those fireworks go off in your chest. “I was thinking maybe we could go get kaf sometime, just the two of us.” 
There’s a spark of mischief in the look he gives you. “What, no Jaxjo?” 
You roll your eyes. “Jaxjo, Shmaxjo. I’m not interested in him.” 
His hand settles along your jawline, gentle and sensual and blush inducing. “But you’re interested in me, huh?” 
“Shut up, maybe I am.” 
Hound smirks, probably the first true smirk you’ve ever seen on him. “Good,” he says before granting you another kiss. “I’m interested in you too, cyar’ika.” 
“And what does that mean?” 
He noses at your forehead and huffs a laugh just substantial enough to stir your eyelashes. “I’ll tell you over kaf sometime.”
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prompt: fireworks 🎆✔️
@clonexreaderbingo
taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit
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thevanserrras · 7 months
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Hi, from the list, can I get 4 and 10 with reader and eris?
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Eris & his mate have a sweet moment as they get ready for bed.
A/N: Based on prompt 4 "nose kisses" and 10 "greeting kiss", from this list. Sweet Eris x Reader fluff. Thank you, anon, for requesting!! I hope you like it! ♡ Warnings: None.
The scene before Eris as he opened the door to your shared bedchamber immediately relieved the tension he’d been carrying from a long, stressful day as the newly established High Lord of Autumn. Back against the headboard, surrounded by every pillow and blanket in the room, you smiled up at him while one of his hounds lounged in your lap. Setting the mug you’d been sipping onto your bedside table, you reached out your hand as he approached. Interlocking your fingers, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours before fully kissing your soft lips, the taste of spiced cider hitting him. “Hello, Little Fox,” he greeted in a whisper. Giggling, you playfully pulled at his arm, “Hello, Handsome. How was your day?”
He hummed, scratching the sleeping hound behind his ear, “Better now.” Standing up from the bed, Eris walked over to his wardrobe, unbuttoning his shirt. As he undressed, preparing to don his nightclothes, you couldn’t help but admire his quietly muscular frame; the way his veins were so prominent in his hands and arms. Catching your gaze, he smirked as he pulled on a pair of flannel pants, “Like what you see?” Earning an eye roll, he chuckled to himself before crossing the room and joining you under the covers.
Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he squeezed you close to his bare chest as you handed him the mug of hot cider for a sip. “Thank you,” he spoke, leaning in to brush his nose against yours before it was replaced briefly by his lips. Butterflies rose in your stomach at the soft gesture, hundreds of years together and he still made you swoon. “I love you,” you whispered, earning a smile. “I love you too, Little Fox,” he answered, “infinitely more each day.”
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otdiaftg · 3 months
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The King's Men - Chapter Four
Day: Tuesday, January 9th Time: 10:25 PM EST
"I'm not a striker by choice, either," he said. "I was a backliner in little leagues. Riko remembers because I scrimmaged with him and Kevin. He made me play defense with his Ravens over Christmas." That finally got Andrew to lower his arm. "Little leagues, he says. I distinctly remember you telling people you learned to play in Millport." "Partial truth," Neil said. "I knew how to play Exy. I just didn't know how to play offense. I didn't want to be a striker, but Coach Hernandez didn't have any room on his defense line. It was striker or nothing, and I wanted to play too badly to walk away. Now I can't imagine playing anything else." Andrew said nothing for a while, then, "You're more a raccoon than a fox." Neil stared. "What?" "A raccoon," Andrew said, and mimed holding a ball in front of his face. "Exy is the shiny object of your sad little world. You know you're being hunted and you know the hounds are closing in, but you won't let go to save yourself. You once told me you don't understand why a person would actively try to die, but here you are. I guess that was another lie." "I'm not trying to die," Neil said. "This is how I stay alive. When I'm playing, I feel like I have control over something. I feel like I have the power to change things. I feel more real out there than I do anywhere else. The court doesn't care what my name is or where I'm from or where I'll be tomorrow. It lets me exist as I am." "It is a court," Andrew said. "It does not 'let' you do anything." "You know what I mean." "I don't." "Because you don't have anything, do you?" Neil said in quiet challenge. "Nothing gets to you like that. Nothing gets under your skin." "He catches on at last," Andrew mused. "It only took him a year." "What are you afraid of?" "Heights." "Andrew." "If you make Kevin come looking for you, you will regret it."
Art used with permission by Emry-Stars-Art. Thank you @emry-stars-art!
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trash-magics-blog · 9 months
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Adopting a kitten/puppy with them and how'd they react pt. 2‼️
Last time was with Soap, Ghost and Gaz so in this will be Alejandro, Rudy, Captain Price and Konig (all fluff obvi, just a cute lil time)
1. Captain John Price
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*he is so 🤤*
You and John adopt a beagle puppy and you guys name him copper(generic but I just couldn't get the thought put of my head). You and John had been married for about 3 years now and you both had your own little schedule and one night on the movie night you guys had set up, you and him decided to watch The Fox and The Hound. John loved the movie and it gave him the bright idea to get a beagle puppy and name him copper! John had surprised you one day by bringing him home and also bringing you a bouquet of roses, John loved spoiling you any chance he got. As the days went on, Copper quickly became the leader of the house, he trotted around happily and just did his own thing. He would also go with John and you anywhere, he liked standing in the bed of John's truck and feeling the wind flap his ears around being a happy lil dog.
2. Alejandro Vargas
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You and Ale adopt a Rottweiler puppy and you guys name her Lola. You and Alejandro were venturing around Las Almas and you guys came upon a vendor who was selling some type of food but also had Lola outside on a leash wrapped around a post and you started to play with her and bond with her while Alejandro was talking with the vendor. You and lola were just the best of friends and you dreaded leaving her behind, lucky for you though Alejandro and the vendor noticed how much fun you and lola were having and the vendor told Alejandro he can have the puppy for free, he smiled and thanked the vendor and still gave him 20 dollars just cause. "Let's go Mi Amor" he called, waiting for you with his hands in his pockets, you said bye to lola and started to leave her but then Alejandro questioned "Aren't you gonna bring your little Amiga?" You looked confused at first but then he nodded and gave you a smile that let you know lola was yours, you were overjoyed to bring her home and Alejandro loved seeing you so happy, he also grew quite fond of lola.
3. Roldolfo Parra
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*love him sm*
You and Rudy Adopt 2 kittens and name them Max and Flower. Max is a little orange kitten and Flower is a black and white kitten. Both of the kittens showed up outside yours and Rudy's door and at first you were just feeding them little pieces of meat until they both came inside and you and Rudy just went with it. You guys and the kittens lay around a lot and kinda just chill with each other,they like to hang around with you guys in the kitchen while you either cook and clean and they also you came up with the name Flower because on Flowers side she had a slight flower shaped mark and it just fit. Rudy had to take a couple days to come up with Max, he just couldn't think of any like, "perfect" names and one day he just started calling him Max. The kittens made you and Rudy their people, they were always around you guys no matter what and they completed your little family.
4.
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*AUGH😩😩 he is so cutie patootie*
You and Konig adopt a Newfoundland puppy and name him Capone. Konig brought him after seeing one of those sad commercials about the puppies and kittens, it almost made him cry so he needed to get at least one to make him feel better he said. You were laying on the couch about to fall asleep and all of a sudden your bombarded with an excited puppy and Konig laughing at the puppy's actions, at first you were a little iffy about the whole thing but you quickly grew very fond of Capone. He was a quirky little puppy but he suited you and Konig, Konig often brought Capone with him wherever he went if you were busy cause it made him less anxious to be out alone and you and Capone would cuddle on the couch and take naps a lot which Konig adored to see after coming home, it made him feel like he did the right choice in bringing Capone home.
A/N: Sorry this took forever, I've been traveling a lot but, I do plan to do 2 more things, one with Rudy cause I'm in a Rudy phase😩 and the other just stating what Im comfy with writing and fandoms I'm gonna write for ect... But thank you for reading!!
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tereox · 6 months
Text
Warmup #13
Rating: T
Summary: Coruscant is haunted. The ghosts aren't bothering the Corries so they just go with the flow. What are they gonna do? Assassinate- oh.. Oh. Good riddance.
~~~
Fox picked up his mug of caff and paused when he realised that it was still warm. He could have sworn he'd put that there hours ago.
He looked around the glorified storage closet that was his office. "Vor'e." He whispered to the empty room.
He went back to work, the mug warming his hand.
~~~
"Kriff, I need-" Thread shoved his arm into the cabinet he knew was empty. He'd checked it several times but he needed that bacta, the vod'ika sprawled on the medical cot wouldn't make it.
Against all odds, his hand caught on something solid. He tugged the item out of the cabinet and spared only a fraction of a second to stare at the bacta. Then he threw himself out of the storage closet and held up the bacta like it would bring them salvation.
It would, for this particular vod'ika.
~~~
"You have no idea what I'm capable of." The senator sneered, tugging their fancy cape away from Grizzer. "I will have that beast put down."
Hound carefully tugged Grizzer back, pushing down the panic rising in him in the same motion. "Sir, she's trained to detect illegal substances and you-"
The senator whirled around to face him and their foot caught on something.
There was an aborted attempt to reach for them, but Hound could only watch as they tumbled off the platform. If there had ever been a good place for a railing on Coruscant, it would have been there.
… he should call that in.
~~~
Thire's patrol route was the same every Taungsday. It was a security risk, but with how scheduling worked it was difficult to change.
He caught a glint out of the corner of his eye and grabbed his patrol buddy's arm, wrenching them behind cover.
Paperclip stayed down. "What did you see?"
"Glint, might have been a sniper."
"Ah."
Thire reached for his comm and called in backup. Better safe than dead.
There ended up being no sniper. However, several blocks further, an ambush had been laid. He should ask Fox to have his patrol route adjusted.
~~~
Fox placed down his stylus and ran a hand down his face. He was dead tired. There were.. way too many things he still had to do before passing out in his bunk for a couple hours. He couldn't allow himself to stop now.
He grabbed one of the more important datapads and reached for his stylus. His fingers touched the empty desk.
Fox frowned and looked over. His stylus wasn't where he'd left it. Maybe his desk had gotten slanted from the constant pressure of hundreds of datapads and pieces of flimsi on top of it.
He leaned over to check and did not find his stylus. That sucked, it had been his favourite stylus. Oh well.
He went to open his desk drawer to get a new one but it wouldn't budge. Something slapped him in the face and that was his stylus!
Fox jumped up in a vain attempt to grab the floating object but he only got a wave of nausea rolling through him.
Maybe.. maybe he should go to sleep.
~~~
"The security cameras show it flew across the room and embedded itself right in the Chancellor's heart. There was no one who could have thrown it. The Chancellor was in his office by himself."
Fox silenced the thought of his floating stylus and nodded dutifully. "We'll keep an eye out for an invisible assailant."
Even a CorSec officer should have caught the sarcasm in that.
~~~
Mando'a vor'e - thanks vod'ika - little sibling
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peachyteabuck · 11 months
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do you want this (like it wants you)
summary: kate likes to misbehave, but yelena has just the thing to keep her in line
commissioned by @caroldantops. 
want to commission me? find my commission guidelines here
pairing: kate bishop x yelena belova x reader
words: 4018
content warnings: hair pulling, heavy bratting, intense D/s dynamics, orgasm control/denial,  sybian use, dom! yelana, sub!kate, sub!reader, polyamory, pet play, breath play, vaginal oral sex, breathplay, aftercare is administered to both subs
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Yelena just wants to rest.
She’s a busy woman, scaling the corporate ladder, a tough task given the complicated gender dynamics of the firm she’s been working at for the last year. It’s not as though she’s not highly qualified, but for whatever reason men with names like “Jason” or “Brett” or “Matt” spend most of their time questioning her qualifications or requesting reviews from someone “higher up” every time she presents, regardless of the fact everything is checked 3-4 times before being spoken about publicly.  
This is why she’s been letting Kate get away with as much as she has today. Ever since she’d let the both of you out of your shared crate, all Kate had done was push the boundaries of Yelena’s strict rules. Touching herself? Check. Trying to touch you? Check. Talking out of turn? Check. You’d been on your usual good behavior—saying “please Daddy” and “thank you Daddy” and staying close to her—but you’d also been your usual, easily-influenced self. Kate had convinced you to let her rub over your weeping pussy while Yelena was busy making breakfast (pancakes, Kate’s favorite).
Her breaking point came when she’d separated the two of you, questioning why you were dripping through the simple cotton panties despite Yelena’s very strict direction not to. That’s when she learned that, not only had Kate swirled circles around your clit as you desperately attempted to muffle your moans, but she’d also said that Yelena would blame you instead of Kate for going against such an integral rule.
Kate knows she fucked up, too—another thing that adds another ten to the running total in Yelena’s mind. She can hear the threat in the way Yelena beckons her closer, the “Puppy, come” command a much lower tone than usual.
While not the most critical thinker, Kate’s real deviousness comes in how decisive she is. A car with no breaks, a scent hound caught on the trail of a fox, a baseball flying through the air at 97 miles-per-hour. None of these could compare with Kate, not when she spotted the leather swatch that was used for spankings haphazardly balanced on one of the arms of the couch (Yelena hasn’t had much time to do a lot of things lately, including clean).
Before she can do anything, the well-worn leather is in Kate’s mouth, the woman on all fours with her collar jingling as she pants.
“Let it go,” Yelena sighs more than commands.
Kate does not let it go. She does not even loosen her jaw just so she can tighten it up again once the other person trying to grab it believes they’ve won over her. She just holds it between her teeth, staring with narrowed eyes and a growl forming at the base of her throat.
You’re not sure what to do. Kate, a sharp contrast to your own fear of retribution, loves to misbehave. She likes to tease, to poke and prod and see what sort of volcanic eruption she can trigger with the least amount of effort. Yelena normally humors her at least a little before enacting strict punishment—getting out the whips and the darkened cage and the electric shock collar and the touching you while Kate remains tied up.
But Yelena doesn’t seem in the same mood as she does when she fingers you until you cry as Kate’s arms remain restrained behind her back, the rope connected to a hook in the wall to keep her in her place. Doesn’t have the same “try me” glimmer in her dark eyes, the same teasing smile.
This is different. Something—something you can’t quite describe—is different, and all you can do is watch.
As she decides what to do, Yelena thinks about the whiteboard Natasha had custom-made for her, the words “DAYS WITHOUT BRATTING” underneath a large “zero” she had written nearly two weeks prior. She knows she’s been working a lot, and (even though her office is within the house, and both of you have places to sit with her while she works) Yelena knows both of her subs had been feeling lonely.
But subs like Kate require consistency—give them an inch and they’ll find a mile. She’s not like you, nice and self-correcting. Once you found yourself grinding against a pillow while waiting for Yelena to clean you up after an intense squirting session, and almost cried from the shame. Kate? The definition of gluttonous in her lust, couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t. Yelena is her guardrails, a yellow light, a tree for her to collide against.
“Give Daddy what you have in your mouth,” Yelena says through grit teeth. “Or I’ll have to reteach you what it means what someone loses their patience.”
You remain seated, curled up next to where Yelena props her feet up on the coffee table. A fluffy pink dog bed with Bunny embroidered on it, you were happy to spend the morning (or all day, really), resting your head against her legs while she occasionally pets your hair.
But no, the universe continues to punish you with the presence of one Kate Bishop.
A stare-down ensues in front of you, neither of them moving, but alert in case the other does. You half expect tumbleweeds to roll in the distance--as if the town isn’t big enough for the two of them.
But nothing happens, and the world stands still.
That is, until Kate makes a run for the bedroom, where there’s the only closet in the house that locks from the inside.
What Kate failed to consider, though, is that Yelena isn’t just fast: she’s strategic as well. Leashes with hook ends drilled in the wall are placed on each side of every room, useful for a litany of play. Now, though, they act as anchors Kate can’t easily avoid on all fours. She gets a few feet, if that, before Yelena’s got one hand on wrapped around the collar and the other on the leash’s clasp. One click later, Kate’s stuck in place, the short leash keeping her on her knees with her back straight.
Yelena’s fuming as she releases the leash, keeping her other hand occupied with the collar. It’s not loose, and she can tell Kate’s struggling to breath against the minimal give of the leather. Good, Yelena thinks. Maybe that’ll remind her how vulnerable she is.
“Let. Go.” She says through grit teeth once more, rage a fire in her eyes.
Kate’s got fire, too, but the kind that yearns for more gasoline, more newspaper, more anything to keep the blaze growing. Slowly, she moves her head from side to side, refusing to give up her bargaining chip. Does she know what she wants? Not exactly. But does she kind of, sort of, maybe have a plan on how to get it? Absolutely. And it involves the leather piece in her mouth.
“Fine,” Yelena cedes. Kate perks up at that, believing she’s won for now. “If you want it so bad, puppy, go ahead keep it in your mouth.”
What she doesn’t hear is Yelena mumbling under her breath, the blonde woman rubbing at her temples as she murmurs about how she’ll need something to bite down on in a minute.  
“Stay right there, bunny,” she says, more audible now. She turns to Kate to say the same thing, then snorts.
Distorted by the leather, the stuck sub looks at you and smirks. Look at what I can do, her face says.
Yeah, yours replies, much drier. Sure.
Yelena returns a short time later carrying the sybian in her arms, silently setting it up. You can tell Kate’s as confused as you are—the sybian is usually a reward. Kate doesn’t let it show, though, still holding the leather in her mouth even as drool begins to drop from the corners of her lips. Once she sets it down as close to Kate as she can, she moves to you, her eyes full of concern.
“You okay, bunny?” she asks, wiping the tears from your eyes. You’re sweet—too sweet, sometimes—and she knows you require more emotional support regardless of what’s happening.
You lean into her hand, letting her caress your cheek. You’ve always been bad with chaos, with the unplanned. But Yelena’s there, always, to calm the storm.
“M’okay daddy,” you mumble. “I promise.”
This time her smile is genuine. “Good, bunny. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
You nod, moving your head to the side to kiss at her palm.
When Yelena’s certain you don’t need anything for now, she turns her attention back to Kate.
“Go ahead and mount it, puppy.”
Delightfully unaware, Kate does as she’s told, moving ever-so-carefully with the constraints of the leash’s length. Time stands still until she finally has it between her legs, her huffs of determination the only sound in the room. She looks pleased with herself as she rests on the rough silicone pad, a small triumph given the circumstances.
Yelena, once again, remains silent. She remains silent as she stares, waiting for Kate to move (she doesn’t). She remains silent as she opens the coffee table, the top lifting to reveal a batch of meticulously organized toys. She remains silent as she regards her options. She remains silent as she grabs purple rope and walks back to Kate.
Yelena only speaks when she crouches down and begins to wrap the ropes.
“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” Yelena mutters as she ties the them so that they keep Kate’s legs folded. She tests the give of the rope with her fingers, moving to tie her wrists behind her back after Kate gives her a nod. “But if you want to test me, fine.”
Yelena turns to the side, grabbing the large pink wand vibrator that had been charging in the bedroom. As she moves, her tank top falls down her chest, the silver keys on a matching chain nearly visible. One engraved with a P, the other a B; the keys to each of your chastity cages remain an ever-present reminder of one of Yelena’s favorite punishments.
Be good, she said once as she edged you, dangling them back and forth in front of your hazy eyes. Or I’ll need to make sure these still fit in those cute little locks over your pussy.
“C’mere bunny,” she says, beckoning you over. “Come here to Daddy.”
Your legs feel like jelly as you get up, slotting yourself in the chasm that’s formed between them. You stand in front of Yelena, a little apprehensive but ultimately willing to trust her with whatever plan she has formed while she was waiting for Kate to stop misbehaving.  
Yelena leaves soft kisses along your jugular, her hands finding your hips. They’re still sore from the night before, covered in light, spotty purple bruising. She holds you as though you’re fragile, breakable—not wanting to crush you with her skilled hands.
She pushes up your shirt a little to cradle your tummy. For some reason, it makes you feel exposed.
It’s not like you were wearing much anyway, your preferred at-home attire being a well-worn shirt from either of your girlfriends and a comfortable pair of cotton panties. The shirt today is a two-sizes-too-big t-shirt from a tech startup Yelena had the misfortune of working for (and caused her to swear off startups forever), the underwear a pink pair with a small bow on the front. They’re also joined by your day collar, a silver necklace with a bunny outline and “property of Daddy” engraved in the back.
“Eyes up here, puppy,” she says, teeth scraping now along the column of your throat. She knows how sensitive you are there, how easily you’ll melt into her palms with a few well-placed kisses. She also knows how much Kate needs attention—and hates when others get it when she doesn’t.
When Kate finally meets your eyes, you feel one of Yelena’s hands move and then hear a faint click—followed by the sound of vibrations and Kate’s muffled moans.
“Stand right here with Daddy,” she whispers in your ear, voice low enough Kate can’t hear. “I want to see what she does when she realizes which one of you is about to get off.”
Kate’s close to your pussy, close enough that you can feel her heated breath against your core. She’s panting in that desperate way you’ve always loved, the kind that makes her face flushed. Her lips are swollen and red from rubbing them against the leather, making them extra kissable.
You love her like this, fucked out before even being fucked. But you wished you got to see her like this outside of Yelena’s intense punishments.
That’s when you hear another click, another vibrational hum joining the symphony of lewdness. With one arm around your middle to keep you upright, the other grabs the vibrator and runs the head over your covered, unsuspecting clit.
“Oh!” You’re caught by surprise, wrapping your shirt in your fists as an alternative to grabbing something for balance. You’re able to lean on Yelena, your back pushed against her chest. But there’s nothing else to keep you upright. “Oh Daddy!”
“That feel good, bunny?” she coos at you. You can feel her smiling into your heated skin, sometimes leaving small nips as she revels in giving you pleasure.
You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as she presses harder, still making those large, slow circles meant to tease you. The nods you give her are quick, frenzied. All you want to do for her is find the nearest tall surface and bend yourself over it, pulling your soaked panties down your trembling thighs to give her free access to your dripping center. You want her to fuck you in the hard, fast, rough way you liked; the kind that left you struggling to walk the next day.
When you don’t reply immediately, she decreases the speed.
“No,” you whimper, grinding your hips down as best you can. “Daddy no, no, no please don’t please!”
“Then answer me, bunny,” she responds. “Don’t want you to end up like puppy here, do you?”
While a keen ear could hear it immediately, you’re too fucked out already to tell that the sybian Kate’s riding is on the setting that rotates through intensities. It never stays on the higher settings long enough for her to cum, but never gets low enough to give her any sort of relief.
“Yes, Daddy!” It’s hard to form words, your speech speeding up as the vibe rolls over your clit. “Yes, fuck Daddy it feels so good.”
“Good, bunny. I’m glad.”
You think she’s going to let you cum now, going to press the vibe as hard as she can into your aching center. But she doesn’t—she just continues her cycle, not telling you she’s timing them so you and Kate are on opposite settings. When one of you is moaning, the other is begging for more. Yelena revels in making the two of you play off of each other, forcing the two of you to intersect in ways she orchestrates.
“You look so pretty, bunny,” she coos, her eyes flitting between both of you. “Doesn’t our little bunny look pretty, baby?”
Kate tries to say something, but it dies as something muffled by the material still in her mouth. Still, she continues to try, the mumbled words sounding more and more desperate as she continues. You assume you look like a mirror of her—same fuzzy brain leading to the same pleading eyes and choked cries.
“Puppy, do you want something?” Yelena’s words are coated in the fake-caring tone that sends another wave of heat through your abdomen. A noise that sounds something close to a “yes” comes from Kate’s throat.
Yelena just tuts. “You need to tell me what you want, puppy.”
Kate whimpers, drool starting to pool at the sides of her mouth. Tears, too, are now flooding her cheeks.
Yelena’s smile is sinister, a light laugh bracketing her words. “Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? You lost that privilege when you decided to be a stupid brat and disobey a simple command. I trained you better than that, puppy.”
The desperate brunette couldn’t defend herself if she wanted to. Yelena’s always been a domme with high standards, standards she’s always communicated clearly and effectively. Kate has just…always liked to push buttons, the envelope, boundaries. Anything she thought she could defy, she would.
But Yelena still loved her, always providing the punishments appropriate. There was never a challenge she couldn’t meet, and Kate loved her in return.
“Are you willing to drop it now?”
Kate blinks at her once, twice. Then nods.
Defeat, Yelena thinks, always tastes just as good as she predicts.
“Then drop it.”
For the first time that day, Kate does what she is told without a fight. She doesn’t realize how sore her jaw is until she’s finally able to move it around, the muscles resisting the stretch.
“Do you want to come now?”
Kate nods, the words a little garbled because of her jaw. “Yes, please Daddy.”
Yelena doesn’t respond to her, instead turning to you.
“Go ahead and cum, bunny. I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”
Her permission is all you need, crying out as the avalanche of gratification floods your veins. The white-hot euphoria burns your fingertips, Yelena’s strength able to keep you from falling on your face. She turns the vibe down as your orgasm succeeds, slowly pulling you from the euphoric edge.
“Such a good girl for me,” she says, holding you to her as you pant. “Such a good little pet for Daddy.”
When your breathing finally evens out, she slowly lowers you to the ground. She’s wearing the same sweatpants she was last night, the soft fabric a welcome pillow as you lean against her. They smell like her, too, like the cologne she wears even though she works from home and the honey shampoo she likes. You drink in the comfort of being near her, of being enveloped by her.
Yelena pets your hair as she speaks once more. “I want you to cum while eating our perfect little bunny out,” she says. “Can you do that? Or do you want to go to bed without an orgasm?”
“I-“ you watch as Kate grinds against the toy, her pussy so slick you can see her wetness seeping over the silicone bit of the sybian. It catches the light, and your fried brain is mesmerized by the sight. “Yes, Daddy. Please let me eat our Bunny’s pussy while I cum.”
“Good girl.”
Yelena picks you up and moves you into position, pushing your shirt up and your panties down. You don’t have to think or do anything but stand there, leaning on her for balance as Kate licks up your weeping slit.
The angle is awkward for both of you. Every time Kate presses herself to you, she has to hold her breath—which can never hold long enough for you to get anywhere close to your peak. Yelena makes a mental note to try this again if she ever wanted to edge you, especially since Kate loves a little breathplay now and then.
Despite all of this, though, it’s easy, for both of you to lose yourself to the pleasure, and so you do. You don’t think about the strain in your knees, or how dry your mouth feels. Kate doesn’t think about how sore she’s going to be tomorrow from her muscles tensing so often, or the fact her cunt aches in that way Yelena’s only been able to draw out of her. All you can think about is the feeling of Kate’s tongue lapping at your soaked folds; all Kate can think about is how much she loves drawing those little gasps out of you she loves so much.
“Such perfect pets,” Yelena murmurs. One hand is threaded through Kate’s hair, the other reaching around your waist to palm at your ass. “So good to each other...”
She remembers, vividly, when the two of you couldn’t seem to stop hating each other. There were fights and so much bickering that drove Yelena insane. In the end, an extra extra large crate; an extra, extra short leash attached to both of your collars; and a few overstimulation sessions got you two to get along quite well.
It’s good—so good—and all your fucked-out brain can do is babble nonsensically. Her movements are jerky and mistimed, but with how sensitive you are, it really doesn’t matter.
Kate finally cums a few minutes later, moaning lowly into your cunt. Her whole body shakes with each breath, her chest red hot from exertion. Ecstasy flows between the two of you, settling on your skin like glitter.
“You okay?”
Both of you nod. Kate’s face is covered in your wetness, the same wetness that drenches your thighs.
Yelena watches you both for a second the same way hunters monitor their kill even after they’ve hit the ground. There’s something special about knowing she’s the one who did this—who set the scene where both of you finished so worn out that neither of you could do anything else but fall to the floor in exhaustion.
But she’s a sadist, not a monster, and so once she’s had her moment of fun, she carries you to the couch before untying Kate. The ropes have made beautiful indents in her pale skin, and Yelena can’t wait to trace them once all three of you are cuddled up in bed. Yelena carries Kate so you two can lay together as she checks the minifridge in the bedroom, making sure there are enough water bottles and light snacks to last you until you can eat something more substantial. After making sure the covers are in the right order (you’re ridiculously picky), and the heated blanket is on its lowest setting (Kate always gets cold, but hates being too hot), she returns to find the both of you cuddled into each other like newborn puppies.  
Fuck, she thinks. She always feels bad moving either of you once you’re snuggled up and comfortable, let alone when you’re all cozy together.
But Yelena also knows the couch definitely isn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’re already going to be sore tomorrow, and there are no blankets, and there isn’t any room for her in the mix of all of this. So, partially selflessly, partially completely selfishly, she slowly detangles the two of you. It’s a mess of limbs reminiscence of a tangled pair of earbuds, but somehow she manages to free you from each other and carry you up to bed one by one (Yelena’s strong, but she’s definitely not strong enough to carry both of you at once, unfortunately). You’re on the right side of the California King with Kate on the left, leaving a big enough space that you can’t find the other one and tangle back up again. Once both of you has consumed a full water bottle’s worth of water and are wearing clean shirts to sleep in, Yelena finally crawls under the covers to join the both of you.  
“I love you both,” she says as each of you cuddles into her chest. You prefer resting your head in the crook of her neck, while Kate prefers to be face first into her chest. Even half asleep, Kate’s always a little obsessed with Yelena’s tits. “Even when you act like spoiled little princesses.”
And she does, truly. She loves Kate even when she bites her out of nowhere, and she loves you even when you go along with Kate’s ridiculous schemes. She loves Kate even when she refuses to just ask for what she wants, and she loves you when you beg for whatever Yelena’s willing to give you. She even loves you when you snore ever so lightly right into your ear, the sound lulling her into a deep sleep.
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ghostofskywalker · 11 months
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🎉Congrats on 3k followers! What a milestone. 🎉
For the celebration, I was wondering if you might write a silly fic about a reader getting proposed to five times on the Star Wars equivalent of New Years Eve. Maybe some clones are trying to get their commander to admit his longstanding feelings for the reader (or whatever scenario you dream up).
thank you so much!! i loved this idea, i hope you enjoy the fic!!
words: 1,986
summary: this celebration only came once a year, and this time, the coruscant guard enlisted some help from other battalions to make sure that fox would finally admit his feelings for you.
@clonexreaderbingo square: "don't ask"
clone troopers masterlist || join my 3k celebration!!
Coruscant Guard's (Unconventional) Dating Service: Free For Clones Named Fox
If you asked Fox about the actions of his troopers, he would shake his head and heave a sigh that could be heard across the galaxy. 
If you asked the rest of Coruscant Guard on the other hand, they’d talk about how they deserve a medal for what they’re doing. 
You see, they had recently began working with a civilian attachment, someone whose whole job was that they were there to help in any way possible, and who was much more proficient at making sure everything was running smoothly than the rest of the Guard was, if Thorn was being honest. You had worked with several different battalions before you had been assigned to them, including the 501st, 327th, and 212th, and his brothers in those legions had nothing but praise for you. He didn’t think he had much to thank the GAR for, because he was stuck working for no pay and interacting with the rudest people in the galaxy on a daily basis, but he did think that she was worth the trouble. 
His commanding officer certainly agreed with his statement, as much as he would never admit to it. It was obvious that Fox held amorous feelings for the new presence in their headquarters, but he was also incredibly stubborn, and he refused to believe anyone who told him that she felt the same way. 
Luckily, Thorn (and the rest of the command squad) weren’t going to let something like this go so easily, and they put their heads together to try and figure out a way to get the two oblivious idiots to finally see what they’ve been missing for months at this point. 
What they settled on was unorthodox, there was no denying that, but he had faith in his fellow troopers, and if nothing else, it was pretty much guaranteed to get a rise out of Fox. 
The party was in full swing when Thorn stepped in, walking with Hound and Stone. At the end of each year there was always celebration, a way to try and forget the war and the worry for a single evening, and whatever battalions were planetside at the time were always invited when the Guard threw their yearly bash. They’d been stockpiling liquor for the past six months, and this year the 501st and the 104th was here to share it with them. 
It also meant that you were going to be there, and there was going to be a lot of people that you hadn’t seen in a while in attendance. 
“Is everything all set up?” Stone asked quietly, as the two of them stared across the room, where you were talking to a clone with blue accents on his armor, smiles on both of your faces. 
Thorn nodded. “Our friends in the 501st were more than happy to help us out, and you know that Wolffe always likes to get a rise out of Fox, so he was easy to convince.”
“Excellent,” Hound responded. “Now we just wait for the fun to begin.”
The three of them began to mingle with the others in attendance, all keeping an eye out for both you and Fox. Finally, it seemed that the first part of the plan was falling into place. 
Feigning interest in whatever Sinker and Boost were telling him about, Thorn watched out of the corner of his eye, where you were being approached by Commander Wolffe. “I just have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful than you,” he said. “What’s your name, because I’m sure it’s just as perfect.” 
Your eyes widened, and Thorn chuckled to himself. Wolffe could be a charmer when he wanted to be, and he had apparently not come to play around tonight. You responded to his question, seeming to have recovered from the surprise rather quickly, and the two of you fell into conversation. 
Thorn couldn’t watch the two of you the whole time without giving away the fact that something was up, so he continued to chat with Sinker and Boost, until eventually he noticed Fox across the room, with a glass of wine in his hand and a tense look on his face. 
A quick glance back at you and Wolffe proved fruitful, you were laughing at something he had said to you, and soon the two of you were walking away from the party together. 
Fox looked annoyed, and there was no way anyone who knew the situation could deny that he was jealous. But this was only the first test, and Thorn knew he was too stubborn to crack on the first shot. He would have to endure more, and they had plans in place for that.
He didn’t see you again for a while, but he passed Wolffe on the way to the bar, and they shared a knowing look. “Well?” Thorn asked. 
“She turned me down,” was the response, and that was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Said she didn’t know me well enough to accept my marriage proposal. Did he see us?” 
Thorn nodded. “It’s all falling into place.” 
“Excellent,” was the response, and Wolffe’s name was called by a few members of his squad. Before he left, he turned to Thorn. “Hey, if this whole thing with Fox doesn’t work out, let me know, because she’s really something special.” 
Thorn just laughed in response. He was pretty sure his plan was going to work, but it was nice to know that Wolffe had taken a liking to you, because you really did deserve the best. 
The next time Thorn caught sight of you, it was Kix that you were conversing with. You had spent quite a bit of time with the 501st legion, so you knew pretty much all the troopers there well, and you were close with Kix. He was the only one that Thorn hadn’t been sure would agree to the plan, but once they had updated him about the situation on Coruscant, the medic had been more than happy to help out. 
Out of all the 501st troopers that Thorn knew personally, Kix was the most down-to-earth, so it wasn’t a surprise that his part of the plan wasn’t done with trumpets and fanfare. He didn’t see it happen, but he ran into you at the table with the snacks, and you had a puzzled look on your face. “Everything alright?” Thorn asked. 
“Yeah,” was your response. “Just some confusing stuff is happening tonight.” 
“Like what?” 
“I’ve been proposed to twice so far tonight, and I’ve barely finished my first drink yet.” 
Thorn tried not to let the smile on his face give him away, so his expression turned to one of false confusion. “And why is that so confusing?” he asked. “I’d propose to you too, if I thought I had a chance. You know what, I don’t care if I do or not.”  He gently took your hand and walked out into the hallway, where he got down on one knee. “I may not have a ring, but will you marry me?” 
Startled, you stared at him. “Why?” 
“Can’t you see how much everyone here loves you?” was his response. “And I’m still waiting for your answer, by the way.” 
He knew what you were going to say. “I can’t-” 
“You can’t marry me, I know,” he said. “I get it, I’m too pretty.” 
The sound of your laughter reassured him that everything was going to be okay between you two. “That’s exactly it, I’m so glad you understand.”
By the time you went your separate ways, Thorn smiled to himself. 
He knew that Fox had watched him take your hand and pull you away from the party. It was only a matter of time before the commander snapped. 
***
Jesse was showier than Kix, and his proposal reflected that. Thorn watched as the ARC trooper spun you around the dance floor, both of you laughing at the moves of the other. From all of the stories that you had shared about the 501st, there were two clones that were pretty much constant presences in your adventures, and those two were going to be the last to propose for a very important reason. 
He watched as Jesse’s mouth formed the words “marry me” (or maybe it was “carry meat,” Thorn’s lip-reading skills were a little rusty) right after he dipped you, and your eyes widened in shock.  
“What is happening out there?” Fox’s voice interrupted Thorn’s observations. 
“I think he just proposed,” was Thorn’s casual response, and Fox’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. 
“What in Maker’s name would possess him to do that?” 
Thorn shrugged. “I don’t know, but when I was talking to her before, she said that like two others have proposed tonight as well. And then of course I had to throw my hat into the ring-” 
Now, the marshal commander of the Coruscant Guard looked like he was ready to hit something. “You what?” 
“Don’t worry, she turned me down,” Thorn said, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “But you still have some other competition in the 501st, so you really should make a move before it’s too late.”
Fox heaved a sigh. “How many times have I told you that I don’t have feelings for her like that?” 
“At this point sir, I’ve lost count, but I’m surprised you’re not tired of lying yet.” 
“I’m serious-” 
But whatever Fox was about to say was interrupted by a commotion nearby as you and Jesse walked back towards the 501st, right past where Thorn was standing. “She turned me down!” Jesse had called to Kix, who was watching with an amused smile on his face. 
“Well obviously,” a new clone had entered the conversation, and Thorn just smiled as Fives stepped closer to where you were standing. “It’s because she’d rather marry me than any of you di’k-”
That was it for Fox. Without thinking of the fact that they were still in the middle of a party (and how much Thorn was going to make fun of him for lying about his feelings), Fox put down his drink, gently touching your hand as you passed by. When you turned to him with an inquisitive look on your face, he didn’t bother to respond before taking your face in both of his hands and placing a firm kiss on your lips. 
You melted almost immediately, and after a while, it was honestly a little inappropriate how passionately you and Fox had locked lips, considering you were still in the main room of the party. 
When you finally pulled apart (thankfully it was before Thorn had to take matters into his own hands), Fox looked a little bit sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he said, slightly breathless from the way he had just made out with you. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking, I just-” 
But instead of answering, you just leaned in to kiss him again. 
In order to avoid any pressing questions from either of you about his involvement in things that may or may not have been planned tonight (and honestly, it was getting a little weird to keep staring for as long as he had been), Thorn stepped away and headed over to the bar to get another drink. 
There, he found Captain Rex, a puzzled look on his face. “What-” 
“I think it’s better you just don’t ask.” 
He nodded. “You know what? I think you’re right.” 
After getting himself another glass of wine, Thorn looked around the room, catching the gazes of Hound, Stone, and Thire, who all raised their glasses at him. Mission accomplished was the unspoken phrase of the moment. 
He just hoped that the two of you didn’t mistake his office door for Fox’s if  you decided to sneak away from the party, because he really didn’t want to have to deal with that.
- the end -
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first-edition · 3 months
Text
Fox and the Hound
CHAPTER 12
Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 
Cw for chapter- mention of pregnancy, mention of sandors past, mention of scars, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst.
Previous chapter here
Slightly proof read sorry for any errors
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You sit on the horse joss holding onto you as sandor walks beside the horse holding it by the reins. 
“Ser. I can walk.” joss speaks. 
“Shut up.” Sandor says. 
“M-my lady should have the horse to herself-” 
“I said shut- up.” Sandor speaks. 
“Joss…if you’d like to stretch your legs you are more than welcome but you are injured and if you are to make it to Volantis without further complication i suggest you stay put on the horse with me… is what my dear husband is trying to say.” you speak. 
Sandor stops and so do you both as he looks up to you. You give him a reassuring smile. He huffs looking away but then his head snaps to the side. Of the canyon not. 
“Th-thank you ser.” joss says to sandor. 
“Be quiet,” he says. 
“Sandor must you be so ru-” you begin but he puts his hand over your mouth as well as he hands you the reins of the horse. 
“Quiet.” he speaks slowly. Drawing out his sword. You and joss stay quiet. The horse begins to shift uncomfortably. He walks some feet away looking around only for an arrow to barely miss him and zip across you spooking the horse as it lodges itself into the rock behind you. 
Men appear from behind the rocks and begin an amish of an attack. Sandor easily takes out two of them. 
“Sandor!” you cry out trying to regain control over the horse. The men charge at you and joss, before they begin to pile on top of your husband. 
“When you reach the clearing go left until you hit the edge of Westeros in sunspear!” Sandor speaks.
“NO not without you!” you cry but regardless sandor slaps the haunches of the horse. 
“I’LL FIND YOU GO!” he yells as the horse takes off with you and joss through the canyon the men running after you shooting arrows past you both only to miss. The speed of the horse overtakes the power of the men running and you both zip through the rest of the canyon of prince’s pass. Coming to a clearing of sand presumably in sandstone at the edge of westeros. You pull on the reins of the horse stopping it. 
“We have to go back.” You speak, your voice breaking. 
“My lady no.” joss says hopping off the horse calming it down. 
“My husband is back there with God knows how many men! He needs help.” you say beginning to cry. 
“With all do respect my lady NO! With Gods know how many men attacking him back there, he’s the lord hound of house clegane, a fighter , a man of the kings guard most feared in all of king's landing and im a squire and you are a princess. With what skill are we able to fight? He said he will find us whether that be in the clouds with our lord or here on land  but for now we need to get to safety!” joss says looking you dead in the eyes. 
Tears stream down your face and you nod. 
“Volantis is east, left, as ser clegane as said if we go now we can get to hellholt inn nearing dark and sleep then head sunspears dock in the morn.” he speaks. You nod he takes the reins of the horse and begins to lead to hellholt town. You look behind you not seeing anyone, not seeing sandor.
—-----
Sandnor is pushed down to the ground and hand tied behind his back before a bag is thrown over his head and pushed into the ground. 
“It's sandor clegane ser” a man says its muffled do to the linen on his head but he can hear enough. 
“Hmm…lets take him back to the tavern well ask what to….he will have a word.'' The middle and probably most important bit of sandor needed to hear had been muffled with the new sound of horse hooves hoping it's not you coming back to “save” him. But it's not. 
Sandor is dragged up to his feet before the rope around his hands is attached to another on the end of the horse as he's led somewhere else. Trying to scope out his surroundings as they head through the canyon trying to get a general sense of direction, but with a potato sack on your head it's kinda hard to do so. 
Without realizing it he allows his mind to wander to you, wondering if you're trying to ride back or if you listened to him and continued to head east. No of course not with how demanding you were with him to join you to your home, you would've told joss to turn around or left him there to get back to him, but then joss would keep you safe and that gives him so peace of mind. 
The thoughts of you and wondering if your safe block out the extended amount of time to the miles of walking. The sound of people laughing and talking quietly when he seemingly enters a tavern just barely missing the door frame as he almost hits his head against it. 
The bag is pulled off his head after further muffled talking, exchanging victory of how they had caught Sandor in the first place. 
“Aha not a man at all then…A HOUND!” thoros speaks, turning around and smiling at him. 
Thoros…the fuck you doing here?” Sandor grumbles. 
“Talking, drinking, fucking the usual! Same as old! And you?” Thoros asks. 
“I don't need you in my business top knot.” Sandor huffs out. 
“Oh come now clegane be kind.” Thoros prods. 
“He was with a woman and a boy.” another man says. 
“Hmm..a woman and a boy..musta been your lady wife then hmm? How's that going, lots of babes?” thoros chuckles causing sandor to retaliate in the ropes that hold his back from absolutely smashing thoros’s head against the table.
“Ooh feisty. Come on let's take him to the lord of light.'' Thoros says. Before the bag is placed over sandors head once again he notices a kid her hair short yet still long enough to be recognized. 
“Girl!?” Sandor barks out. All the attention is now placed on the child who is trying to hurriedly leave. 
“Arya stark! What are you doing with her?” Sandor speak.
“You know her?” thoros asks. 
“And you don't..how fitting.” Sandor scoffs, rolling his eyes. 
“Hmm well if you know she's valuable, well take her too.” thoros demands as a man grabs her as well. 
“What! NO! You said I could go free.” she squeals trying to fight the man who has her easily in his grip. 
“Yes. That before you were valuable. lets go '' he says putting the bag back over sandors head after there's one now on arya. They are both led out of the place this time and Sandor does hit his head on the door frame making him duct with an annoyed groan. 
Once again sandors mind wanders to you it's getting dark and he wonders if you and joss had made it to the inn before sunspear or if you had run the horse all the way to the edge before dark where you got on a ship or if you had headed the other way to find him. He knows you're stubborn, especially since you love him. 
But then his mind snaps to the feeling of his hand on your stomach, how he can feel your heartbeat and swears he feels the babe inside your belly’s heart beating too. He needs you to be safe. He knows how dangerous child bearing can be. His mother died trying to give birth to what would've been sister. He remembers hearing the men of the town saying they were expecting her death as how she could possibly give birth to another large baby. 
‘Then next baby that bitch bear will be just as big as the first two might as well split the poor lady in half.’ he remembers the merchant speaking to the farmer who then told half the town about his mother's pregnancy and then how his mother wouldn't look at him after he was burnt. He doesn't want the same fate for you. 
Being pushed into a cave with one source of heat snaps him out of his mind fog. The bag is taken off his head once more before seeing many others, a large fire burning before him forces Sandor to take a step back from the heat. 
“Sandor clegane.” a deep raspy voice from the darkness is heard before a man with an eyepatch emerges into the light. 
“Beric Dondarrion…” Sandor huffs looking at the man who's known for cheating death many times before. 
“If I untie you will you try to kill everyone in this cave?” Beric asks. 
“Just the bald headed cunt would keep mocking me.” Sandor grunt in annoyance to thoros. Beric gives thoros a look, a mixture of disappointment and amusement before nodding his head. The ropes are cut off of sandors wrists allowing him to rub the bruises that have formed. 
“Now then… shall we talk like civilians?” Beric suggests. Only leaving Sandor to sigh.
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corrieguards · 1 year
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Tookas and Cuddles
Commander Fox x reader fluff
Summary: a certain tired and overworked commander meets your pet tooka for the very first time. Word count: 1,6k T/W: none, just a cute tired Fox :) A/N: I've had this fic sitting in my WIPs for ages and living in my head for even longer. So while it is kinda silly and probably awfully written I've decided to suck it up and finally post it.
Checking your wrist comm for the fifth time since you’d got here, you let out an exasperated sigh when you saw the time. Fox was supposed to meet you here over 2 hours ago and so far not only had you not seen him but he hadn’t even sent you a comm to let you know he was late. 
You hadn't been going out with the commander for long, only having been on a handful dates with him. But you had quickly found out that pulling him away from his work was hard. Very hard.
Finally deciding that you'd waited long enough for him to contact you, you decided to head towards his office and see if you could find him there.
You stalked through the corridor leading to the Coruscant guard's quarters, stopping as you got to his door and saw Thorn and Hound huddled together outside it. You walked up to them “Hey guys, either of you seen Fox lately?”
They both whipped their heads up and Thorn let you a sigh of relief at seeing it was you 
“Oh thank the Maker. Maybe you’ll be able to get him out of that office”
You frowned “What are you talking about? Do you mean Fox?”
They both nodded “He’s been stuck in there for hours”
“Yeah, we’ve been trying to get him out but so far he’s just told us to kriff off,” Hound said, a defeated look on his face.
You glanced between them, taking in their tired faces. It must be well past the end of their shift for today and they looked exhausted.
You nodded “Okay then, I’ll give it a try.” You saw a look of utter relief cross both their faces and you smiled, patting them on the shoulders. “And you two look like you could use some sleep”
“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, a cheeky but tired smile on their faces. You chuckled, shaking you head at them affectionately. 
Waving them off you watched as walked off and giggled when Hound shouted a “Good luck.” at you over his shoulder.
Once you were left alone in the corridor you cleared your throat and stood up straighter in front of the door to Fox’s office, preparing yourself to face a overworked, tired and most likely grumpy Fox. You took a deep breath before opening the door and peering inside the dark office dimly lit by bright neon lights of Coruscant's nightlife shining through the window.
The only other light source was coming from a bright datapad shining straight onto your boyfriend's tired face. The electronic light highlighted the dark circles under his eyes as he hunched over his desk, piles of paperwork and empty mugs of caf spread around him.
“Hey there handsome”  
Fox’s head shot up at the sound of your voice and he frowned “What are you doing here?’”
You stepped into his office, closing the door behind you and walking up to his desk “Wow, not even a hello for your beautiful girlfriend,” you teased. 
He smiled lazily before grabbing your hand and pulling you around the desk, turning in his chair to face you “Sorry meshla.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and gave it a squeeze. “Just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“You didn’t show up for our date, so I came to look for you,” you explained
He looked at you confused for a beat before it hit him and he groaned, running a hand down his face “Fuck. The date, I forgot all about that”
“It’s ok Fox.” You smiled softly at him running your thumb across his knuckles.
He shook his head “No it’s not. How long were you waiting?”
You shrugged “I don't know, a while I guess,” you lied, “But it doesn’t matter”
He lent back to check the clock on his desk “Fuck, we were supposed to meet hours ago.” He turned back to look at you guiltily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry meshla I completely forgot” 
Chuckling softly at the look on his face you reassured him again “I already said it was ok Fox”
He pushed his chair back, making space for the two of you “C’mere,” he tugged you down into his lap. You obliged and straddled him. One of his hands splayed across your back while his other one cupped your head gently pushing your face into his neck. You nuzzled into him and he sighed holding you tighter to him.
 “We can still go on that date if you want,” he whispered into your hair. You shook your head.
“No, you're exhausted Fox. You need sleep.”
“What? No I don’t, I’m fine.”
Pulling back to look him in the eyes, you shot him a stern look and talked in a warning voice. “Fox....”
“What?” he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I promised you a date so I’ll give you a date.” 
You let out a huff of disbelief “Fox baby, you've been working for hours. The last thing you need right now is to go on a date.”
He pouted at you. “But I wanted to spend time with you today.”
You pressed a kiss to his nose “Okay, how about you come back to mine, huh? You need to get out this office and we can just cuddle together there instead.”
He hummed. “That sounds fucking perfect meshla.” He smiled softly at you before pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. You returned the kiss and giggled, making him grin. 
“You’re so cute when you laugh”
You rolled your eyes at him affectionately “Yeah yeah, c’mon trooper.” You slid off his lap and headed towards the door, pulling him with you. “ Let's get you out of this office.”
He followed you out and rested his hand on the small of your back as you walked down the empty corridors together.
You shivered as you both stepped out into the cold night air and started the short walk to your apartment. Fox looked down at you concerned “Are you cold?”
“No, I'm ok.” You looked up at him, flashing him a smile and trying, but failing miserably to fight another shiver wracking your body. He chuckled shaking his head  and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him “C’mere pretty girl, I’ll keep you warm” 
Accepting his warm embrace gratefully you snuggled into him, practically leaning on him, He didn’t complain, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
— 
You pulled him to a stop when you made it to your apartment block. Taking out your key card out and opening the door you lead him in. He followed you into the lift and down your corridor until you stopped in front of your door.
“Well, this is me,” you said awkwardly, opening your door and gesturing for him to go inside.
He stepped in and looked around your apartment curiously. He smiled to himself, taking it in. It was so you. 
You took his hand and lead him to your sofa “Wait here and I’ll get you something to change into” 
He nodded silently and slowly sat down, eyes following your form as you disappeared down the corridor and into your bedroom.
Returning a few minutes later, already changed into a tank and some sweats you held out a neatly folded pair of grey sweatpants for him. “This was all I could find that would fit you,” You said shyly
He smiled standing up and beginning to thank you before a movement behind you caught his eye. He peered over your shoulder, his eyes widening when he saw what it was.
“You have a tooka?,” he asked. You frowned, turning around and spotting your pet tooka standing behind you.. As if he knew you were both talking about him he meowed, curiously watching Fox. 
“Yeah I do.” You smiled, turning back to look at Fox, your stomach fluttering at the look of excitement that he was obviously trying to suppress but was displayed plainly on his face regardless.
You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile. “You wanna meet him?”
“Yes.” he replied a little too quickly, excitement shining in his eyes. You grinned, stepping back and gesturing for him to go ahead. Fox shot you a hesitant look “He won’t be scared?”
Before you could answer him your tooka walked up to Fox all by himself and rubbed his head against his ankles. Fox chuckled looking down at him and then back up at you “I guess not then.”
Watching your two boys lovingly you giggled as Fox bent down slowly so as to not scare him and scratched him under the chin, smiling when he started purring.
You smiled, marvelling at how gentle your boyfriend could be. The same hands that fired blasters day in day out  were now being so soft and careful when handling your small fluffy tooka.
You loved this man so damn much
Kneeling down beside him, your tooka meowed excitedly on seeing you and pranced over to you, rubbing his head on your already out-stretched hand.
Fox smiled wider “He’s cute”
You looked up at him with a loving smile as you took his tired but happy face in. You lent forward pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting your forehead on his and whispering against his lips “Yeah he sure is” 
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