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#i forgot that writing a longer fic
sashimiyas · 1 month
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cw: gen snippet about the twins; angst
osamu’s in tokyo sleeping on a decade old futon in someone else’s living room. akaashi’s living room.
on the first day, osamu was told that his new bed for the next month was from akaashi’s college days. his impromptu move in finally convinced the editor to purchase a new medium for sleeping. though with osamu’s curious peeping around his doorframe, it looks much less like an upgrade and more like a lateral move.
akaashi’s still out, hardly home, and probably why he was so willing to accept osamu’s residence. that, and because he knows that osamu’s presence means a rumored tokyo location may be in motion.
which is true. it is the reason why osamu is here, but it’s only a week in and though the cook turned entrepreneur has walked many difficult roads in his past, these tokyo ones has osamu with an eye constantly over his shoulder.
he feels out of depth for the very first time, lost despite himself. he never realized how much he’d relied on his community, of the regulars ingrained in his life as much as the grains that have stained his fingers. of jiji and his taiyaki. of the dinging bell of the students who bike past his shop every afternoon. even the sun rises different among the large buildings.
there’s little in akaashi’s home to entertain him. only cartons of cigarettes and books from countries that osamu can hardly pronounce. the man hardly has a working fridge though akaashi is never home enough to even file a complaint to his landlord about it.
osamu sits idly with his back against the wall. he stares ahead of him at a bookshelf that is topped with two small trophies and a couple of picture frames. bokuto is in 90% of them and is probably the brightest thing in akaashi’s home. as dismal as it is, that’s hardly saying anything.
and so osamu dials the closest thing he has to home. atsumu answers immediately.
the sound of his voice has osamu immediately sitting up straight, tucking his legs beneath him. it’s been a while since he’d spoken to his brother. many calls had been left unanswered and unreturned. even this new turning point in his life had began without him. which osamu was fine with despite disappointment.
however, osamu can already tell that something is off just by his brother’s first breath before greeting. the man prides himself with a good nose, smelling the transformation of aromatics seconds before it happens.
“what’s up with ya?”
atsumu’s response confirms his suspicions, “nothing!”
an attack like that is usually met with an equally aggressive quip. osamu already feels like he’s losing his brother. the realization coupled with the isolation he’s been facing in tokyo fills osamu with dread. his stomach is heavy and he wants to expel the feeling by throwing up.
“ya ain’t been right. something up ya ass or what?”
it’s a cheap shot but it’s a desperate attempt to find something that atsumu can respond candidly to.
“fuck outta here! the hell ya want, samu? ya call me up just to talk shit?”
“course, it’s what we always do.”
atsumu’s silence hurts more than verbalizing the reminder.
“i ain’t got time for that right now.”
osamu’s mind blanks for a moment. they had accepted distance. but time? atsumu’s time had always been his and vice versa. they came into this world together, pressed against their mother’s bosom in tandem. every second has been lived twice between the both of them.
and then osamu’s angry.
“what?” he grips his phone tight into his fist, “ya think ya better than me?”
“no!”
“what about ma? ya ain’t got time for ma?”
“what?! no!”
“ya think just because ya some big shot athlete that ya suddenly don’t have—“
“i ain’t a big shot!”
atsumu’s heaving through the phone and osamu can feel the air change yet again.
“i ain’t gonna have a job soon, samu! there’s a new hotshot setter about to graduate high school. they say even better than kageyama.”
the pieces slowly begin to fall into place. osamu’s breath stills but atsumu’s continues.
“and ya know i’ve never been able to beat kageyama.”
“don’t—“
“shut up samu. i know how it is. im a setter and ya know there’s only one of us on the court. i became one because ya wanted to be a hitter and i knew id always have ya to set to. but…”
osamu wishes he brother wouldn’t say it. but they’re both mean. they both say words that are meant to hurt.
“but ya dont need me and i need to find someone else to set to. so yeah, i ain’t got time right now for bullshit, samu.”
and they both never know how to say what they truly feel. because how, after all of this, can osamu admit that he does need his brother right now?
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pastelhooman · 11 months
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[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]
"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."
----- ID under break -----
A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.
"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"
"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.
Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"
the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.
"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.
Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.
----- End of ID -----
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pachimation · 1 year
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an 8 page comic about childe visiting scaramouche after the sumeru archon quest
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somestorythoughts · 9 months
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Protective Rage Obi-Wan Fic
So. @fanfic-obsessed has this cool Protective Rage Obi-Wan story idea that yall should check out because it's really good and they've got a ton of cool AU ideas. And I had an idea about an apology scene for it and then the plot bunny that makes you do things like overcomplicate worldbuilding said "you know you could do a whole fic" and now I have 4000 words. I was thinking of splitting it up into parts cause that's a long post but frankly I'm tired and should've been in bed like 90min ago cause I have work tomorrow and mornings suck so it's staying a one shot with the paragraphs spaces cause I am NOT reformatting that now. Enjoy.
            Usually, when Quinlan’s pushing himself to finish a mission through this much pain, he’s running on determination, maybe some spite. This time it’s desperation.
            He’s not sure if the shouting starts before or after he hits the door panel – or maybe it’s been going on the whole time – but he can see Obi-Wan through the spots in his eyes and that’s good, that’s good, he can’t finish this and maybe his friend can –
            “Quin!”
            It’s like leaning on stone, Obi-Wan’s mind wonderfully shielded under the worry in his voice and Quinlan holds up a datachip for the hands around his arms. “Coded. Please.”
            “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
            He’s staring up at the ceiling now but that’s alright. Obi-Wan has the data. Quinlan can break now.*
Ahsoka isn’t panicking, but only because she’s had a lot of practice keeping her head and she’s not friends with Master Vos. She’s met him though, and knows Obi-Wan and he are close, and she’s scared for him.
            “That’s an order Marrow!” Obi-Wan snaps and the medic someone called hisses in frustration from where Ahsoka’s holding him back. She isn’t sure why Obi-Wan’s so adamant that no one get closer to them, but she knows it’s serious. For all Obi-Wan hates the medbay he’ll work with the medics, let them see him elsewhere, and he knows better than to keep serious injuries from them.
            “General his leg is gangrenous if he doesn’t get immediate treatment he could lose it! As the head medic-”
            “Quin has to be seen by a Temple healer anyone else will make it worse. I don’t like it anymore than you do Marrow.” He’s resting a hand on Master Vos’ head and is holding his hand with the other, trying to sooth his mumbling friend.
            “Can you explain why while we wait for Healer Eerin?” She asked.
            Obi-Wan frowns, the look he gets when he’s trying to figure out how to explain something Force-related in English. “Marrow. The troopers who have trouble with excessive sound. If they were injured would you treat them in a noisy medbay?”
            Marrow scowls, but he stops splitting his attention between Master Vos’ leg and how best to get around Ahsoka and says, “Of course not. Not if there was any way to avoid it.”
            “Quin’s psychometric. It’s a useful skill, but sometimes it’s like Force hypersensitivity.”
            Cody interrupts as Anakin enters. “Healer Eerin just arrived. She’s being escorted here.”
            “Any idea what happened?” Anakin says. He’s waiting by Ahsoka, whether because he already knows approaching is a bad idea or because he got the gist from the way the medics haven’t gotten closer is anyone’s guess.
            “Have to keep them safe.” Master Vos mutters and Obi-Wan’s face tightens, though his shields are still rock-solid.
            “Who Quin? Who do you need to keep safe?”
            But Master Vos never stopped talking, only just loud enough to be heard. He’s shivering too, voice breaking with groans. Whatever he was doing to walk on that leg – Ahsoka is very determinedly not looking at the swelling or the white that might be bone – he clearly can’t keep it up anymore. “Gotta keep them safe from the people and the senators and the Chancellor gotta do something useful with my unnatural powers what good are we if we can’t keep them safe apparently nothing I hoped I hoped I wasn’t gonna get my heart broken again I Obi they deserve better than this-”
            His words are cut off by the sound of the door opening as Healer Eerin and a Padawan healer sweep into the room in unfamiliar robes and go instantly to the downed Jedi. Marrow scowls heavy as thunder at not being able to treat a patient on his ship as they do, Healer Eerin passing something to Obi-Wan as she takes his place by Master Vos’ head. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand and stands, moving in line with the troopers around them so that he can slide the chip into the device and examine whatever Master Vos was so desperate to bring him.
            “Pop quiz Padawan Lele. Why do we use special gear for Master Vos?”
            Padawan Lele didn’t stop what they were doing as they replied: “Because his psychometry is super strong and the pain has seriously damaged his shields. Without the robes or equally strong shields he’ll feel too much of our minds and memories as well. This could delay his healing or damage his mind.”
            Marrow goes stiff and Ahsoka thinks that’s the first time she’s seen him look sheepish.
            For a few minutes, the room is a quiet tension, little sound aside from the Healers working or Master Vos’ delirious mumbling, fading in and out of hearing. Cody’s giving him the same worried look Ahsoka is, Master Vos sounds like his heart is as broken as his leg and she knows enough about how people work to think that the amount of self-deprecation she can hear isn’t a new thing.
            The rage, when it comes, is sudden as a lightning bolt and just as sharp. It’s gone just as quickly too – almost before Ahsoka and the other Padawan finish whipping around to stare at Obi-Wan who looks perfectly calm. Cody’s looking at him too, narrow-eyed in suspicion.
“Excuse me.” He says, still perfectly calm, and Ahsoka thinks of the weight of a sky prepared to burst and wonders if she should follow him, but the door is closed before she can decide.
“Been a while since I saw Obi-Wan get that angry.” Healer Eerin remarks.
“Huh?” Several of the troopers say. Anakin does too and the day has not been nearly overwhelming enough for Ahsoka not to role her eyes at how her oblivious master can lift a tank but not read anger when it’s shoved in his face.
“A little after Anakin first came to the Temple one of the teachers decided he was a poor fit for the Order and was trying to sabotage his work along with bullying him in class. Obi-Wan found out, asked Quin to watch Anakin for an evening, and went after the teacher. The man landed in the Halls of Healing with several broken bones and left as soon as he was cleared to move left for the furthest jedi outpost he could find. If he ever taught again I will be very surprised. Commander he’s safe to move but it would help if we had a clear path to the door.”
“You’re gonna catch flies Skyguy.” Ahsoka says faintly as Cody taps his comm to pass on the message. When he’s finished they all hear the trooper on the other end say, “By the way sir General Kenobi just left for Coruscant’s surface, said he had some business to attend to at the Senate.”
Cody nods, wearing the expression of concern and exasperation he gets whenever anyone he feels remotely responsible for does something dangerous without explaining why. “Check and see if there’s a way to find out what they’re doing.” He orders Crys as the Healers begin to maneuver Master Vos through the door.
“It’s one of the sessions journalists are reporting live sir.” Crys answers, pulling up the feed without needing to be asked, and they all group together to watch it.
*
Obi-Wan is, to put it bluntly, really fucking pissed. The anger in him pools like water, building and building, and he wills himself to keep calm control as he strides through the Senate building. If he gets too angry to think, things will go wrong.
Quinlan came to him because the things that had already gone wrong were even worse than any of them had been allowed to see, and he couldn’t fix it himself. He came to Obi-Wan for help putting things right.
Obi-Wan will be damned thrice over if he fails that mission.
He’s already sent the information on the datachip to the Council (though he doesn’t know when they’ll be able to see it), to all of the Commanders he has the contact information for (he’s not sure which of them made those particular lines of contact so secure but he trusts Cody’s view of them), and Madame Nu. They can’t afford to let this stay between the two of them, they need the backup. He knows the Council cares, is struggling as much as he is under the weight of the war, and the Commanders deserve to know and can keep their secrets. He includes Madame Nu because he doubts anyone would expect it, and the few interactions he’d seen between her and her single squad of troopers made him certain she adores them.
Plus, she studies Sith Temples. She’s gotta be more dangerous than she looks.
He walks into the rotunda where the Senate are debating the (very reasonable he’s read this one) Clone Rights bill, sees Palpatine, and allows his rage to fuel his leap for the podium.
“Tell me,” He says, cool as can be, as he smashes Palpatine’s face into the stand and kicks Amedda away when the asshole tries to interfere, “what the fuck the jedi did to you that you want our children murdered in their cribs?”
Order 66. Kill all the jedi. All of them.
“Who the fuck gave you the right to have an army bred and implant them all with control chips so that they couldn’t disobey, couldn’t be allowed to even think?”
Control chips that would wipe out the troopers’ minds, take away every thought and feeling and every piece of self that they’d fought to keep, chips that would turn the troopers his friends into the flesh droids senators liked to claim they were.
Palpatine snarled and shot off lightning. Obi-Wan deflected it and continued to ignore the screaming as he mused that perhaps Palpatine had decided there was no point in hiding when Obi-Wan was broadcasting these secrets to the Senate. Then he punched Palpatine below his sternum and then his ribs.
Ah, red lightsaber. There it is. He ducked and broke Palpatine’s arm.
“And while we’re at it, who the fuck allowed you to use those chips to control the Coruscant Guard and make them do your dirty work? Or withhold rations and bacta?”
It’s entirely possible he shouldn’t have included the information about the blackout missions and the extent of Palpatine’s control over the clones. That might have been the kind of thing they’d want to share themselves. Unless they couldn’t say anything?
“Even for the Sith you’re an exceptionally twisted shitstain.” He ducks the other lightsaber and wonders why this asshole had to learn to fight with two.
“You forced my family at blaster point to lead a war you orchestrate from both sides, forced our friends into slavery and now you want to take away everything our friends are when you use them to kill us and frankly Palpatine, I think the fuck not!”
The red lightsaber screams in his hand as he slices Palpatine’s head clean off.
*
Obi-Wan frowns as he takes in the scene. Huh, Amedda’s still here and oh that’s Master Windu and Master Yoda in the audience. He supposes some Jedi witnesses are a good idea. He grabs Amedda by the front of his robes and uses the Force to help him hold the heavy asshole over the edge of the podium with one hand, just to make sure he gets the point.
“Now you may have gathered that I’m very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. What about you?”
It turns out that Amedda is also very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. Good. “Full Republic citizenship and Senate representation that they elect instead of someone who make money off their bodies would be good too.” Obi-Wan adds, looking the Senator from Kamino dead in the eye. He’s pretty sure she’s calculating the distance between him and her pod when she nods.
If Obi-Wan had known all it would take to get his friends their rights was the public murder of one of his least favorite people, he’d have done that at the beginning of this thrice-damned war. The bill is passed very quickly and unanimously, and a couple Senators add a bit about backpay they’d had in the works as well and make some noise about allowing the clones to settle a moon or planet once they have the time to look the uninhabited ones over. That gets less enthusiasm but it’s not being shouted down and they can work with that, so Obi-Wan grins with all his teeth on display and says “I’m glad I only had to kill one politician today.”
The fear that ripples through the Force is unmistakable.
He puts Amedda down and heads to the Senate floor where the Coruscant Guard are waiting. Their shields aren’t bad but there’s awe shinning through them like sunshine in the dessert, bright and warm and painful with the twisting of old griefs and pains and shocked relief, and Obi-Wan says “I assume I’m going to be arrested?”
One of the men, who wears the rank of a Commander, takes of his helmet and asks, “Permission to speak freely sir?”
“Granted, forever and always.”
The man beams, and answers; “Then with all due respect sir, there is no way we’re going to arrest you.”
“Are you sure? I did just beat the Chancellor of the Republic to death.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Everyone on the Guard wants him dead within their first week here.”
“Thorn put your helmet back on, we’re not safe unless that law’s enforced.” Someone snaps and a different Commander approaches, leading Master Windu and Master Yoda. His shields are beskar-strong, but judging by his voice Obi-Wan would bet he’s glaring at Thorn.
“I’m feeling a bit spiteful.” Thorn grins and Fox gives that familiar huff that usually means the trooper in question is rolling their eyes underneath their helmet.
“Don’t look at us like that we’re not locking you up either.” Mace says dryly when Obi-Wan looks at him. “I will however, make sure your Padawan gets mindhealing sessions if I have to drag him there kicking and screaming myself. He’s overdue anyway.”
Obi-Wan winces but agrees. Quin hadn’t found solid proof of Palpatine grooming Anakin to be his Sith apprentice, but the information he had found made him suspicious. And once he read that, Obi-Wan can see a lot of things that support it.
Windu pulls him into a hug, startling Obi-Wan. The other Master doesn’t often want a lot of physical contact, and for him to initiate hugs is unusual. He sinks into it.
“Do you know how Quinlan is? Bant had to take him to the Halls.”
Windu shook his head. “I’ll ask.”
“To the Temple we will go after, inform everyone, and let you see your friend.” Yoda adds.
“Vos?”
Obi-Wan blinks at the stern commander. His shields are still thick but every single one of the other Guards are radiating concern and Obi-Wan wonders if Quinlan started this investigation because it was the Guard he wanted to protect.
“He found the information on Palpatine and brought it to me. He was seriously injured and delirious when I left him with the Healers.” The Commander twitches, just barely visible, and Obi-Wan asks, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?”
“Commander Fox.”
“Vos looked out for us.” Commander Thorn adds when it’s clear Fox isn’t going to continue. “He did his best to keep civilians off our backs, brought us bacta, snacks, and sweets when he could, tried to make us laugh. He’s our jedi even if it wasn’t official. But we haven’t seen him in weeks.”
Obi-Wan nods in understanding, then turns as Mace looks up.
“He’s in a coma. I can tell you more on the way, I trust the Guard but I don’t want to say this in the open.”
“I’m coming.” Commander Fox states and Commander Thorn nods.
“And perhaps a couple of the men. So we know how he’s doing?”
“I was going to ask one of you if you wanted to come. One would probably be best for now, I don’t know if the Healers are allowing visitors.”
“Just Fox then. I’ll watch out for our vode.” Thorn knocks his forehead gently against Fox’s, murmurs something none of them can hear, and leads the rest of the Guards away. The Jedi and single Commander push through the crowds and pile into a transport.
“Details Mace.”
It’s a sign of how serious it is that Mace doesn’t respond to the tone with a raised brow or eyeroll. “The gangrene is too serious; they have to amputate his leg at the knee. They aren’t sure how far he fell to break it that badly, but they know it’s been untreated for days. Best guess is he was running from someone and couldn’t find a place or the time to take care of it. He’s got some bruising and infected cuts on top of that which makes things worse, but they’re pretty sure they can deal with those. However. He’s not responding well to the healing. It’s not physical, it’s something mental. They aren’t sure what happened.”
Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. Mace grips his shoulder till he stops quivering and asks slowly, “Do you have any idea what exactly happened the past few days?”
“He was almost completely out of it when he got to me.” Obi-Wan murmurs. “He, he said a lot of bad things about himself and a few things that reminded me about how some people talk about the Force. You know, when people call us or our skills unnatural. He wanted to protect someone, I’m not sure if it was the Jedi or the Coruscant Guard or someone else.”
The rest of the ride is quiet and tense.
*
Cody meets his general and general Windu at the hanger and finds himself, once again, relieved he’s wearing his armor. He’s not sure he’d survive his general finding out about the highly inappropriate reaction he had to the sight of his General beating up the Chancellor of the Republic on behalf of the troopers. His only consolation is the fact that he’s absolutely sure all the vode that aren’t asexual had the same reaction.
He is surprised to see Fox there, he hasn’t spoken to him in too long, and when he had Fox had been exhausted and tense. He’s been getting worried. He falls into step beside Fox as Obi-Wan updates him on the situation and waits till there’s no one near their group and murmurs, “You can take off the helmet if you want Fox. I promise they’re safe.”
Fox pauses, then yanks off his helmet almost violently. There’s more grey in his hair than there was last time, and a pair of scabbed-over cuts on his cheekbone. He looks like he was tired to the bone last week and hadn’t gotten any sleep this week.
“Fox-”
“Shut up.” Fox snaps, almost quiet enough to be missed by the generals, and Cody hesitates but thinks of Fox coming here to check on a severely injured jedi and decides to wait.
The Healer tells them that they can see Vos, but that they must be quiet and keep calm. The handful of Cody’s men that followed him wait so it’s Cody, Fox, Obi-Wan, and Windu that follow the healer into the room, Cody to offer moral support to his general as needed.
“Commander!” The healer yelps in alarm as Fox pushes past her, stripping off his glove and reach for the General’s limp hand, and Cody thinks of Obi-Wan using a rare order to keep Marrow at a distance and wonders what the hell Fox is thinking before Vos twitches, bare fingers curving towards where Fox has his fingers laid gently on his palm.
The healer scowled and examined the machines Vos was hooked up to. “The rest of you, no touching. Keep calm. You,” she pointed at Fox, who ignores her, heartbreak plain as day on his face “don’t move.”
Cody stays near the door, watching. Obi-Wan’s eyes have flicked towards Fox a couple times, but mostly he’s focused on General Vos. Windu is the opposite. The healer finishes examining the machines and holds her hand above Vos’ forehead, before making quiet excuses and leaving.
She comes back with Healer Eerin who preforms the same examination. “Anything wrong?” Obi-Wan asks.
“I don’t think so but I’m staying for the next 20 minutes to watch.”
It’s twenty minutes later that Healer Eerin kicks all of them out to eat except for Fox, who she brings a chair for. “I don’t know why, but your presence if helping him heal. I’m sure you have things to do but if it’s possible for you to stay a little-”
“I’m not leaving him.” Fow states, and Cody thinks of General Vos’s words on the bridge and heartbreak that hasn’t left his face and thinks oh.
They leave the door open when they go just for a bit, and Cody can tell Obi-Wan had the same idea as him because there’s concern and something that could become anger on his face. General Windu’s as inscrutable as always but Cody’s heard enough from Ponds to know the man takes threats to the jedi seriously. He shushes his troopers outside and waits.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s enough time that Cody had wondered if Fox was gonna stay silent and the shaking in his voice alarms him almost as much as the words. “I didn’t mean it I promise Quinlan. It was just a bad day and I snapped I’m sorry. You force-damned idiot it must have been days to find that and get so injured you know the Guard would’ve done anything they could for you even if I was being an asshole, you think Thorn didn’t smack me around the head when I told him? You’re our jedi Quinlan and we need you to wake up, I need you to wake up I can’t apologize properly if you’re sleeping, please, the Guard’s lost too many people please don’t let us loose our crazy jedi too.”
Fox is crying by the end of that, shaky sobs that scratch his throat, and Cody hits the panel to shut the door and turns to the two jedi.
“Well that answers that question.” Windo states. “I think the Commander will be there a while.”
“If it helps Quinlan heal I can’t speak against it.” Obi-Wan muttered. He slumps into a chair, exhausted. “It’s been a day. Who wants to eat?”
“I do.” Cody says. “And then I want to head to the barracks and make Thorn tell me what’s been going on with Fox, because I feel like I’m missing something important.”
*
Things get better after that, some slowly, some quickly. The Separatists decide it’s in their best interests to surrender to General Kenobi, and the war wraps up quickly with some planets staying separate and many arrests in the leadership (interestingly, a lot of crime groups that deal with jedi more than they would like to also decide to go clean after that footage. Who’d’ve thought?). The troopers learn about their new home with glee and throw themselves into learning how to be things other than soldiers with a mix of joy and apprehension. It takes time for the Coruscant Guard to be fully comfortable with their other brothers, but it’s something that the rest of the troopers work on furiously when they learn how hellish Coruscant had been for them. Anakin gets so much therapy (as do many other people) and the Jedi use time they have now that the war’s over to start distancing themselves a bit from the Senate, trying to ensure that they can’t be forced to lead an army again.
Fox is there when Quinlan wakes up, asleep and holding Quinlan’s hand and there are tears and apologies and promises. The Guard cheers when they get their general back because they love their crazy jedi as much as the other battalions. And the clones and jedi start to heal together.
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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 7 months
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Day 6: Show/Fear
Prompt List
Pt. 5 of The Empire of Samadhi AU
Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 (you are here) | Pt. 6
(This is day 6 of the Monkie Destiny Challenge Prompt Month October 2023)
Wordcount: 2k
Summary: Red Son is the son of an old empire, Mei is the daughter of a new one. Red Son, consumed by fire, was put into an induced stasis sleep to stop the world from burning until his family can find a way to safely remove the fire. They find a way but he never wakes up. Hundreds of years later he awakes to discover his power resides within another as she stares at him with wide eyes on fire.
Welcome to the Show. 
(This one’s a bit of a spookier one in light of this festive All Hallows’ Eve month. So warning for some mild body horror and creepy description. Please check the tags if you want more detail)
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Their landing was awkward. 
Red Son ended up at the bottom of the pile with his face pressed into the floor with the other two on top of him. He knew immediately the destination was wrong when he felt wooden floorboards rather than dusty ash against his cheek. 
They had landed somewhere they weren’t supposed to. 
“Get off.” Red Son attempted to throw the two mortals off him and was kicked in the face twice by Mk before he managed to shove them both off onto the floor. “Idiots.” 
He lifted his head to look around and found they’d landed in a theatre of some kind. It was empty but the lights were on, bringing a warm sort of atmosphere. 
“Uh,” said Mei, with Mk draped over her lap like a limp rag-doll. “Hey, Samadhi Sifu… I think you took a wrong turn.” 
“I didn’t do anything,” Red Son spat. “Some idiot hijacked my portal.” He pushed himself to his feet, cursing under his breath. “They never would have been able to do so if I was at my full strength.” He straightened up after brushing small bits of gold dust from that shattered plate off his hanfu. It didn’t matter much due to the fact it was already covered in soot, but that couldn’t be helped. Merciful Buddha, he wanted a bath. 
“Ow,” said Mk, like he was the one who had gotten kicked in the face. Mei patted his back. 
Red Son glanced around the theatre. It was mostly built from wood. At first glance it appeared to be new, but the closer he looked the more blemishes and broken things there were. It was an old theatre. The curtains were threadbare. There were chips in the wood. The lanterns only lit the space dimly, just bright enough to create shadows without really lighting all that much. All the seats faced a massive white screen at the head of the room. It reminded Red Son of a shadow puppet screen, only much, much bigger. 
“We’ve got another thirty minutes here until my spell kicks back in,” Red Son said, glancing around for the doors or at least some sort of exit. He heard shuffling behind him and turned to see Mk falling off of Mei’s lap and face down onto the floor before popping back up, sitting cross-legged next to her. 
“Well, at least there’s no spooky monkey here,” Mei said. 
Upon being reminded of what exactly they’d been, not running, but retreating from, Red Son’s ire at whoever had portal-jacked him was washed over and drowned out by a very different sort of feeling. 
Mk and Mei seemed content to stay on the ground as Red Son started to pace in front of them. He muttered under his breath. 
Mk looked pale. Red Son had no doubt he’d be looking even paler if he’d known just who had been reaching for him. 
Red Son feared nothing. Not death, not life, and no living being. 
But his hands were shaking. 
From the cold, he hissed to himself through gritted teeth. He would never have been shaking if he had his fire. He wouldn’t be so vulnerable if he had it. The white lady hadn’t seemed like a threat at first. She seemed a mild annoyance at best. He couldn’t sense any massive power coming from her, so how did she manage to get to him? He needed to rethink. Reevaluate. He needed to think. He needed to get his fire back or they were going to die. 
“Well, well! That was quite a show!” 
Red Son’s head snapped back to look where the voice was coming from. It seemed to bounce and echo over the walls, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. Shadows seemed to tilt, getting darker, stretching further.
Mei was on her feet in an instance, Mk scrambling up close behind her, staggering a lot more. 
The shadows seemed to converge on the stage, onto the screen rising up like ink until a shape was painted across it and then received form. 
It was a shadow puppet. 
A monkey. Merciful Buddha, Red Son had seen enough monkeys already today. Its mouth had been cut into a wide, unnerving smile, stretching over nearly half its face. 
"I see you all met the Lady Bone Demon's puppet.” The puppet slumped sideways, limp, head tilting to almost upside down. It was strange. It moved in a way shadow puppets normally didn’t, to Red Son’s knowledge. 
Red Son scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “You look more like the puppet here.” 
“Oho!” said the shadow puppet. “Good-” it flipped, revealing its other side, where the only difference was there was an slashed X in the place its eyes should have been, “--eye.” The puppet laughed. It doubled over with shrieking laughter at an awkward angle that didn’t look right. 
Red Son found himself recoiling a bit. The thing sounded insane. Granted not as insane as him when he laughed, his cackle was much more impressive. 
Out of the corner of his eye Red Son saw Mk grab Mei’s arm. 
“Mei,” Mk said, his voice slightly shaky, urgent, “that sounds like-” 
“I know,” Mei said, her voice grave, on edge. 
“What are you two talking about?” Red Son snapped. 
“Is that the Dragon Heir I see?” The puppet twisted itself as though it were hanging upside down from a branch. Sure enough the shadow of a tree rose up to assist the illusion. “And another puppet!” Its smile looked almost thrilled looking at Mk. “Isn't this all just so interesting? But who’s the third? I’ve never seen you before.” It dropped back down, into more of an animalistic, unnatural crawl. The shadow seemed to grow bigger as it crawled towards them, but it never moved off the screen. 
“Who I am is none of the business of the likes of you,” Red Son said. “You know very well who you brought here. So cut the theatrics and state your business or we will burn your little theatre to the ground and you along with it.” 
The puppet seemed to find that very funny, laughing and twisting. Red Son could feel something in the wood of this place. Something in the shadows growing thicker and moving. 
“Oh, but the show is the best part!” 
Mk cried out. 
Red Son spun around to see shadows wrapping around his ankles and wrists. They lashed out around his arms binding him tightly and then pulled before any of them could react. 
“Mk!” Mei yelled, reaching for him. She grabbed his wrist just before he was pulled into the shadows. 
The rings lit. Mei practically spat out fire. “Let go of him.”
“There’s the famous fire!” The puppet seemed to smile wider, bigger, it sounded like it was a twisted form of excitement. “What a performance you gave that day!” 
The strands of shadow snapped when Mei’s fire neared it and she caught Mk before pulling him to his feet.
“Mei,” said Mk, clinging to her. 
“I know,” said Mei. “It's him.” 
“What are you two peasants talking about-” 
“You know,” said the puppet, drawing their attention, “really, it was rather impressive how you played right into her hands, bud.” It walked across the screen, but this time it continued off it, onto the wall. The laughter echoed. 
For a moment Red Son thought the shadow was talking to Mei, but then Mei was stepping in front of Mk and shielding him with her arm, flames flickering dangerously above her. 
“Mk had nothing to do with it,” Mei snapped. 
The puppet laughed again, tumbling through shadows and bouncing from one place to the other around the room. It bent in unnatural directions. “Nothing? Nothing? He caused this.” 
Red Son had to admit, he was curious. Curious as to how the man half-cowering behind Mei was responsible for… well, it was rather hard to understand what the puppet was referring to. 
“I didn’t,” said Mk, but he didn't sound very confident about it. 
“Do you think she would have gotten your precious friends if it weren’t for you? You think she would have gotten to your pathetic Sifu without your help?” 
“He’s not pathetic!” Mk shouted at it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-” 
“All your second chances, all your do-good kindness lead to this. If it weren’t for you the Lady Bone Demon would have never gotten her hands on the rings.” 
“But,” said Mk, his voice small, “I didn’t do anything…” 
“And you think that’s a good thing?” The puppet laughed far too much in Red Son’s opinion. It lost its effectiveness after a while. At least on him. Mei and Mk just looked more and more unsettled and anxious. “You and your Master, so alike. Neither of you said anything to each other, did you?”
“What is he talking about?” Red Son asked, looking at Mk curiously. 
Mk shrunk back from his gaze. 
“It doesn’t matter,” Mei said. “Whatever happened doesn’t matter. So you better shut your mouth, Liú.” 
The puppet stood for a moment, frozen still. Then it’s head snapped off the wall to look at Mei. 
It became less of a shadow and more of a tangible thing. Its eyes were lifeless, its skin was more alive looking than a puppets should be. It had lace designs stretching across its skin in dark cracks across its skin. Its mouth stretched just as wide, but despite its upward tilting motion it didn’t look like it was smiling. It didn’t look completely like an object nor completely alive, some mix of both. Red Son could see both its eyes at once now, the slashed X over one of them looking like a gaping black hole. Its one eye was a pinprick amongst a pool, just as black, its pupil surrounded by a ring of purple. 
“You’re cursed,” Red Son realized. 
Its head snapped to look at him and Red Son felt frozen in place by it. The weight was nowhere near that of his fire contained in the rings above Mei’s head. But it was uncomfortable all the same. This thing in front of him was twisted and wrong and there was a lack of sanity in its one working eye that made it feel as though something would snap at any second. It looked as though it should be twitching but all it did was stay deathly still, not breathing but very clearly alive. 
“Not our problem,” Red Son forced out, despite the way the words tried to lodge in his throat with the things one eye on him. “Dragon Girl, we’re leaving.” 
“There’s no doors,” Mei muttered. 
Red Son whipped his head around to check. And she was right. He hadn’t realized it at first, but there were no doors, no windows, no holes or cracks in the wall to slip through. 
There was no way out. 
It was a claustrophobic feeling. But Red Son wasn’t about to let a sealed room intimidate him. 
“Very well then. Let us make one.” 
“I can’t let you leave,” said the puppet that Mei called Liú. “They’ll come soon.” 
“Elder Liú,” said Mk, “we can help you.” 
“I can’t let you leave,” it said again, its mouth moving with the words unlike its shadow had when it spoke before. It was a horrifying sight. Shadows moved behind them, creeping closer. “I can’t let you leave. I can’t let you leave. I can’t let you leave-” 
Red Son snorted. “You can’t stop us.” 
It just kept repeating it over and over again, ignoring him. The shadows stretched higher. They curled over top of them. Red Son watched them creep out of the wall, wrapping around the puppet, over its mouth and face and dragging it back into the wall. 
“Guys,” Mei said, glancing at her feet. “I think we’re in trouble here.”
“Then use my fire,” Red Son said through gritted teeth. 
“Oh yeah,” Mei said, “right.” She shook off the shadows that had started to cling to her foot and the rings blazed brighter above her. 
“Wait! Stop!” said Mk. 
“What?” Mei said. Then yelped, because a shadow lashed out and wrapped around her arm. 
One latched around Red Son’s leg and the shadows suddenly seemed a lot thicker and stronger than before. 
“They’re shadows,” Mk said. “The more light you give them the stronger they’ll be.” 
“How does that make sense?” 
“Just look, the more light there is, the more shadow can be seen. Unless we could get enough light to get rid of every shadow, more light would just be making it worse.” 
“Then what’s your suggestion,” Red Son snapped, clawing at the shadow that had attached itself to his wrist. 
“Less light,” Mk said. “They can’t touch us if there’s no shadows to shape in the dark. We need to break the lanterns.” 
“This is a terrible idea,” Red Son said. 
“Do you think I have enough control over these rings to light up a whole room?” Mei asked. 
Red Son did not think that. 
“That’s what I thought.” 
“Fine,” Red Son snapped. He snatched some fire away from Mei. The shadows had crept up to his hips now, wrapping and slowly sludging further up. He burnt some off his wrist so his hand was free. “Aim for the lanterns.” 
Mei missed twice. Red Son’s feeble second-hand fire couldn’t reach very far but the sparks landed and managed to light the lantern. 
“No,” the voice echoed, “what are you doing? Stop- stop I can’t exist without them-” 
“It's okay, Elder Liú,” Mk said, “we’ll get you out of here.” 
“Stop!”
“Ugh,” said Red Son, straining against the shadows that were now up to his shoulders. “You’re disgustingly reassuring, aren’t you.” 
“I try,” Mk said. He was trying to hide it but Red Son could hear the panic in his voice. 
The last lamp went out, burned to nothing, but light still remained. 
“Dragon Girl, the rings.” 
Mei cursed. 
“Mei-” Mk’s voice was cut off as the shadows wrapped around his mouth and started dragging him down. 
“Mk!” 
“THE RINGS!” Red Son yelled at her.
“I GOT IT,” Mei roared back. 
The shadows wrapped around Red Son’s mouth and started pulling. 
The rings flickered. 
“NO!” the puppet appeared in front of Mei’s face, reaching. 
All at once the light went out. 
Red Son fell flat on the floor, followed by two thumps. 
“HA!” said Mk. “I told you! How can you get grabbed by something when you’re already in it! It's like swimming!” 
“Water has currents that can grab you,” Red Son snapped at him. 
“Shadows aren’t tangible like water.” 
“You make less sense the more you talk.” 
“It worked, didn’t it?” Mk huffed. 
“Woo! Mk!” Mei cheered. “I’m gonna see that last bit in my nightmares! Haha! Where’d Old Liú go anyway?” 
“Um, I’m not sure,” Mk said. “Let me check.” 
There was a moment of shuffling and silence in the pitch black. Then Mk’s bright voice came. 
“Found him! He’s small now. Looks like a real shadow puppet.” 
“What? How can you see?” 
“Huh, I wonder if we could un-curse him like how we unpossessed Mk,” Mei said, ignoring Red Son’s question.  
“He feels like he’s made out of dry stuff,” Mk said. “I don’t know if it's safe to try.” 
“Just give him to me,” Red Son scoffed, blinding feeling around for Mk. “I’ll seal him in so he won’t jump back out the moment there’s shadows to jump from if you’re both so worried about it. You can figure out what to do with this thing later. We’re going to be pulled back any minute now.” 
Red Son heard a sound that took him a moment to place as Mk’s muffled laughter. 
“What? What are you laughing at?” 
“Nothing,” Mk said. “Here, hold still, I'll hand him to you.”
Red Son sighed and held out his hand impatiently. 
He could feel Mk standing in front of him, hesitating. 
“What now?” he groaned. 
“Just… be careful with him. Don’t hurt him okay?” Mk finally handed him over. 
“Whatever,” said Red Son, casting the spell to seal the puppet in its current form. “He’s none of my concern, living or dead.” 
Mk didn’t reply to that, but he could practically feel his worry.
“There,” Red Son said, shoving him back at him. “He won’t be any trouble for now.” 
“Great,” said Mei. “So do we need to talk about why Liú looks like a monkey? Or…?” 
The ground lit up underneath them. 
Mk yelped, his face illuminated and rushed to stuff the small shadow-puppet into his hanfu. 
The room lit up in flames.
| beginning | next |
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oliviaischillin1204 · 4 months
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lots to learn
Pairings: Romantic Anamoceit
Word Count: 1,323 words
this is a direct sequel to this minific from a few years ago, they don't have to be read together but u might as well lol
"... I guess I've got a lot to learn."
"I think we all do!"
Virgil smiled up at him, and really, Patton couldn't help but lean down and press a kiss against his forehead.
"Do we wanna keep going, or are we tired?" he asked lightly. He really hadn't meant to tease, but it was pretty cute how both Virgil and Janus went suddenly shy at the idea of them continuing their little 'lesson'.
"Well, I for one have quite a busy morning at work tomorrow," Janus interjected, pretending he wasn't flushed and avoiding Patton's eyes. "So I'll have to pass on being the... subject, in order to get any actual rest. Unfortunately."
"Oh, sure," Patton replied. "So that means you're definitely not going to get any more tickles tonight, unless you change your mind and ask me or Virge to tickle you! That's what you want, right? No more tickles tonight?"
Janus' fingers clenched where he'd folded his arms protectively over his chest. "...Yes. It's not like I'd ever ask for more, of course."
"Oh, of course not," Patton teased, winking obviously at his husband. He gave Janus about twenty minutes tops before he caved and starting begging, which meant...
Patton smiled down at Virgil, who was still lying on his back in between himself and Janus. He returned Patton's gaze with a shy yet cocky gaze.
"Do you wanna...?" Patton offered. Virgil nodded wordlessly, biting his lip.
"Aw, yeah? You wanna go ahead and lift those arms for me, then?" he continued.
There were a few moments as Virgil took in a slow, shaky breath, before he managed to fold his arms behind his head. Janus shifted, sitting up further, but the slight movement was enough to make Virgil slam his arms back down to his sides with a panicked noise.
Neither Patton or Janus could stop the laughter that burst out of them.
"My goodness, darling, is it really that bad?" Janus teased.
"Oh, come on, Janny, you know how it is!" Patton retorted. "The anticipation makes everything feel so much more sensitive, huh, Virge?"
Virgil didn't respond; he was too busy burying his dark face in his hands as his partners teased him. "Please kill me."
"You wish," Janus replied. "Arms up, buttercup."
"Janus."
"If you have a problem with nicknames I'm afraid you're going to have to speak up soon. Patton can be quite creative."
Patton smirked, his voice a sing-song as he replied, "You would know!"
"Enough," Janus said in a voice that was not quite begging. "Eyes on Virgil, please."
Patton chuckled one more time, but did move on the bed until he was lying comfortably on his side next to Virgil, one hand propping up his head while the other rested innocently next to Virgil's side. Janus did the same; Virgil cut his eyes over to him, and he merely gave him that slow, sharp smile that Virgil loved.
"Should we make it a game?" Patton asked, fingers drumming the mattress and making Virgil tense up.
Janus hummed. "Maybe 'how long can you keep your arms up'? Or 'how long can you hold in your laughter'?"
"I'm not gonna last that long," Virgil blurted. His arms twitched, begging to drop to his sides, but he kept his hands behind his head. "I'm-- I'm really ticklish, and you're making it so horrible, but I do like it, but I feel like I'm gonna explode and you haven't even started yet--"
"Shhhhhhh," Janus whispered. "Breathe, Vergilius." His raised his hand, letting Virgil keep his eyes on his fingers as they curled in the air. "Just trust us. We'll take care of you."
Virgil was so entranced by Janus' fingers that he was completely unprepared for Patton running his nails down his side. Virgil gasped; his arms dropped just as he'd warned them, but Janus was viper-quick and managed to grab one elbow, pinning the arm closest to him back next to Virgil's head.
"Oh, hello," Janus purred, "what's this?" He fluttered his nails on Virgil's other side, the mirror image of where Patton's hand had been, and Virgil couldn't stop the keening squeal that escaped from his throat.
"Aw, is that a good spot?" Patton cooed. He copied Janus' pose by easily pulling Virgil's arm up so he could pin it (either because Patton was clearly stronger than Virgil and was able to pry his arm away from his side, or because Virgil was actually trying very hard to not protect himself from the tickles).
"Must be, if he's fighting us this much," Janus continued.
"Can't-- hehehelp it!" Virgil whined. His laughter was coming out in spurts and bursts, like he was trying to hold it back. This was torture; Patton's rough hands and rounded nails scratching between his ribs and his side was already enough to make him want to lose it, but Janus was much more delicate, which was freaking worse, because that meant he let his well-manicured nails dance ever so gently just above the most sensitive spots along Virgil's waistline, not speeding up and not going any rougher, just enough to make Virgil want to throw his head back and wail.
Of course, he couldn't do that, because he had three sleeping kids in the house and the thought of having to go through their bedtime routines yet again was exhausting. All he could do was lean forward and gasp in a breath as quietly as possible before saying, "Wait wait wait wait--"
His partners stopped immediately.
"I can't-- can't be quiet," he choked out. "The kids-- I don't wanna wake them, I'm sorry--"
"It's alright, sweetie," Patton replied, stroking Virgil's hair. He looked over Virgil's head at Janus, and the two seemed to have a silent conversation for a moment before he continued, "I have a thought."
The next thing Virgil knew, Patton was maneuvering him around, even picking him up for a brief moment and making Virgil yelp with surprise. When he was settled, Virgil found himself sitting on Patton's lap, his legs on either side of Patton's hips and their chests nearly pressed together. Heat rushed back to his face at the proximity.
"How about this?" Patton asked. "You need to laugh, you do it into my shoulder."
Virgil was about to respond when suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Janus leaned up to whisper in his ear.
"Would that help you stay a bit quieter, darling?"
Virgil nodded so fast he almost hurt himself. "Yes."
He could feel Janus' grin again the back of his neck. "Good." That's all the warning he had before Janus' nails trailed all the way down his sides, from his armpits to just above his hips.
The noise that came out of him was nearly indecent, but Patton's hand came up and pushed Virgil's head into his shoulder just in time. This was almost worse, for Virgil-- not being able to see anything, so vulnerable and exposed pressed between his partners' chests-- but at least he didn't have to hold in his laughter anymore. He could merely relish in it as Patton's hands wrapped around his back to trace and spider through his sleep shirt all over the sensitive spots on his back, or as Janus' hands snuck around to flutter damningly all over Virgil's stomach.
"It's okay," Patton murmured into Virgil's hair, although the other man could barely hear it over his own muffled laughter. "We've got you. Just laugh it out."
"Besides," Janus continued, curling forward so his breath could once again tickle Virgil's ears, "it's your day off tomorrow. I think this is a perfect chance to explore this wonderful little secret I found, hmm?"
Virgil could blame it on the fact that he couldn't speak at the moment-- not with his mouth, wide open and wailing, pressed into the warmth that was Patton's shoulder-- but if he were honest... he couldn't agree with Janus more.
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hannie-dul-set · 14 days
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quick little update on the word counts of my major wips atm!!
karma: 6k shoot your shot: 1k the breakup soup: 9k peach tree act two: 30k star studded baggage ch.3: 4k do you want me (dead)?: 2k three's a crowd: 9k sunwater: 15k
outlined/outlining: home for the bitchless ch.9 ceo park
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anexistingexistence · 6 months
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I love how anytime I publish the first part of a multi-chapter project, not even a day afterward I randomly decide to make major changes to it. And by that I truly mean major changes. The kind that have me remove/add tags on the fic on Ao3.
Anyway, I'm turning my recently started one-shot collection project (the Darlin&David qpr one) into a cohesive work now. Yay for that ._.
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puppydoggraham · 2 months
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MY LOVELY LITTLE NICHE WATER PARK FIC IS HERE
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saelik · 3 months
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“Are you ok?” Ren can’t quite make Akechi’s face on the darkness of the room, only lit by the dim light of a distant lamppost that comes through the window, but he can hear the concern on his voice. It sounds strange on him. 
“It was just a bad dream, sorry I woke you up.” His voice is still shaken from the nightmare, making him sound less convinced than he’d like. “I bet now you regret staying here instead of going back to the comfort of your own apartment where no-one would bother your sleep,” Ren tries to joke. Not that he believes Akechi will ask about his dream, but better brush it off just in case, he doesn’t want him to know he accepted Maruki’s deal even if it was just in a dream. However, Akechi doesn’t answer. Ren sees how he opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something, but closes it again in an almost imperceptible sigh. It almost looks like he doesn’t know what to do.
It’s not until he takes a hand to his eyes, trying to rub away an annoying itch, that Ren realizes why. 
But Akechi can’t see it, can he? The room is almost in complete darkness, there’s no way he can see the tears on his eyes. Though the uncertainty Ren can guess in his posture, the way he won’t look away from him, his body slightly leaning forward, head tilted and a hand slowly closing into a fist between them as if he wasn’t sure whether to reach to him or not, says otherwise.
Scared, Ren tries to scoot back, to put some distance between them and hide in the darkness so Akechi can’t see his face, but his back is already against the wall. There’s no escape. Instead, he turns his head away from Akechi’s gaze and attempts to wipe away his tears, but no matter how much he brush, they just keep coming.
Why is he crying now of all times? He hasn’t cried in years, he doesn’t even remember the last time he cried in front of someone. He didn’t cry when he was sent to Tokyo, he didn’t cry when he was being tortured, he didn’t cry when he wasn't able to save the one person he wanted to save the most nor when that same person asked him to end his life once more only a few hours ago… so why now? It had been just a dream, a fantasy of his mind, or maybe Maruki’s last effort to persuade him, to show Ren the life he was throwing away, a life in an old café that felt more like home than his parents’ house ever did, surrounded by people who cared for him, his friends, his boyfriend… people who, just as in the dream, would hate him if he choose that path once they realized.
“Ren” Akechi’s voice is soft, softer than he ever thought possible. It only makes it harder not to whimper like the irrational little kid he’s being. 
“I’m sorry,” is all he can say.
He hears Akechi sigh again before a hand falls on his shoulder. Ren cowers, trying to get away from the other boy, there may be no way to hide he’s crying now, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to let anyone see him like this. Not even Akechi. However, his reaction only makes Akechi harden his grip and, before Ren has time to react, the detective is pulling him against himself, making Ren bury his head against his shoulder and awkwardly stroking his back. 
“It’s ok.” Akechi says, each word echoing in his body.
Ren feels ashamed, being comforted by Akechi of all people. He is the one with a reason to cry, he is the one who will stop existing tomorrow, not Ren. Still, something breaks inside him with those words and the sobs he’s been trying to hold finally escape.
He doesn’t try to restrain himself anymore, instead he clings to Akechi’s shirt and lets his tears run free, wailing loudly, shaking, crying as he hasn’t cry since he was a child. 
It’s like he’s crying for all the times he didn’t cry before, as if all the fears, regrets, anger, anxiety, pain, grief that he has been accumulating during the last year fought to finally get out, as if his body were too small for all of those emotions and had finally exploded. 
He attempts to tell Akechi he hasn’t change his mind, that he’s not accepting Maruki’s deal as much as it pains him, but the only words that come out his mouth when the hiccups allow him are cracked up I’m sorrys. Yet, somehow, that seems to be enough for Akechi to understand.
And it hurts. Because Akechi knows him well enough to understand those hopeless sobs, to understand that he doesn’t want to be seen but needs the comfort of his hug. Because he had never felt so free, so seen, as he does when they’re together. Because, despite all of that, he’s still going to lose him again.
And he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to bear it.
Ren has no clue how much it takes him to run out of tears, it could have been hours, days, weeks even, for how exhausted he feels. The grief and pain haven’t disappeared, he doesn’t think they ever will, but they are lighter now, more bearable. Akechi is still holding him, and, even though it’s  probably selfish of him, Ren doesn’t pull apart. They’ll have to part ways in a few hours so he wants to keep Akechi as close as he can until that happens.
“I’m going to miss you."
“I’ll miss you too”
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nerosdayinanime · 7 months
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Responding here to ur tag response to my question on this post so i dont clog up your notes over there 😅
That concept is so cool!! Can you tell me more about the dynamics? (Like what are the specific differences that made you classify Sabito as alpha prime instead of just alpha?)
When you say the Primes effect more and are effected more than the others what exactly do you mean?
Do you become a Prime when you take on a certain roll in your pack or is it just a option during the initial presenting event?
Are Primes like a subsection of their dynamic or are they a whole new one? (3 broad dynamics society vs 5 specific dynamics society)
How does everybody being abo (and Sabito being alive) effect their relationships with each other in this AU compared to canon?
And lastly, what are everybody's designations in this au? 👀
I kinda got carried away with the questions whoops
ok important distinction to get out of the way first- i see a/b/o as terms to describe phenomena, not strict definitions people fall into. i dont like omegaverse things like that bc 1 i love biology & speculative evolution and through that lens it makes absolutely 0 fucking sense to me and 2 i dont like omegaverse basically being reduced to sexism 2.0 with submissive feminine omegas, dominant masculine alphas, and boring betas.
i completely understand and see the appeal in traditional a/b/o but i also think its severely limiting
to answer your questions off the bat:
sabito as an alpha prime mostly just bc i really really like giving him big/visible fangs and that influenced some worldbuilding choices lmao
imagine having ur senses turned up 200%. theyre just as affected by a drop of pheromones as normal dynamics are a litre. theyre way more sensitive to others' and their own is far more potent
theres no 'presenting event' either you stay not very reactive to pheromones(beta) you start reacting to pheromones normally(alpha/omega) or you start to be fuck-off sensitive to pheromones(a/o prime) (ppl dont choose or get assigned a secondary dynamic its just something that Happens and a/b/o are terms used to describe wide trends)
its still 3 broad dynamics, primes are considered a sub-category/more specific variant of alpha/omega
mmm, id say overall theyre pretty much the same? rengokus & mitsuri are closer-knit, tengen and them kinda make a trio, sabito's almost part of the mini-group(The Loud Ones)- sanemi and obanai still dislike giyuu, now its got an added 'omega has his alpha wrapped around his finger and makes him do the dirty work instead' bc he never bothers to defend himself from them so sabito steps up and tells them to fuck off- then theres the obvious kamado situation. sabito's neutral abt them after he gets over his initial anger but cmon. its tanjiro. youre not staying neutral for long. giyuu more protective of them from the get-go
theres only a few ppls who are set in stone lmao- sakonji-alpha sabito-APrime giyuu-omega tanjiro-OPrime nezuko-N/A sanemi-beta obanai-beta mitsuri-OPrime kyojuro-alpha
my version of a/b/o
secondary dynamics arent dependent on sex, theyre two separate spectrums and secondary dynamics are Secondary
secondary dynamics start to develop with puberty, not really finished until somewhere in 20s
you cant tell what someone's secondary dynamic will be until it starts to present
betas are the hardest to tell bc sometimes ppl are just late bloomers, late20s-30s and they still dont react to scents very strongly or havent had a heat/rut theyre probably a beta
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[shitty doodle of the parabola graphic- up-down is omega/alpha left-right is not sensitive-very sensitive]
betas still smell scents but arent sensitive to pheromones and their own arent very strong either, some can have mini-heats or ruts. overall if theyre not very reactive to scents and they dont have noticeable fangs or any changes to their reproductive organs theyre considered a beta
alphas and omegas have stronger scents (a beta would need to be actively projecting their scent to be on the same level as alpha/omega's baseline) and are sensitive to pheromones.
secondary dynamics influence sex but are not influenced by sex; males who are omegas can develop female reproductive systems and females who are alphas can develop male reproductive systems. this results in tons of possible combinations, though not everything /works/ since they'd need the matching internal & external parts to actually reproduce.
with male omegas/female alphas; commonly, either the secondary reproductive system doesnt develop at all or the secondary external develops alongside the original*. less commonly the secondary external develops and the original internals swap to the secondary. very rarely the secondary will fuck up the original internals and make someone sterile. very VERY rarely will someone develop both original and secondary reproductive systems that are fully functional
main biggest difference between alphas and omegas is mostly in whether they have a heat(& nest) or a rut(& claim territory)
heats typically start off with some warning signs before the actual heat kicks in(preheat) omegas will start to be clingy and seek safety/closeness with their pack for a few days, along with starting to give off a heat scent. omegas usually dont smell their own heat scent until its already pretty strong(closer to heat) so others around them usually notice the scent first. heat hits with a full body fever for a day or two, its extremely uncomfortable and usually omegas drop out of coherency. behind the scenes all kinds of reward chemicals and other important stuff in the brain are thrown way out of wack- no one really notices that tho bc theyre usually blearily rolling around suffering through a mind-numbing fever. after it abates theyre left with the still fucky brain balance and dont really get back all the coherency they lost from the fever, still a little out of it for the whole duration of heat. theyre more sensitive to changes in their emotions and more sensitive to physical contact, heats in their usual state are non-sexual and an omega simply seeks security affection and comfort from their pack. excessively negative emotions caused by lack of security or comfort can cause an omega to be extremely panicky/depressive/aggressive (borderline feral) and its not fun for anyone involved. the omega going through it is overrun with negative thoughts/feelings/emotions and the scent of an omega going through a disruptive heat is especially nauseating & discomforting to anyone around (an intense need to Fix It and make the omega feel better). on the flip-side, omegas being more sensitive to emotion and physical contact can lead to a state of near constant euphoria/ecstasy in sexual heats between mates (the more traditional version of heat)
omegas will go into heat in the presence of another omega's heat if they are emotionally connected (family, pack, friends, etc) and an omega's heat can cause an alpha to start their rut (& vice-versa ruts causing heats)
ruts cause a similar fucky brain balance but not nearly to the same degree as heats, alphas will seek out affection and their instinct to protect is sent into absolute overdrive. mother hen x500. it causes them to be a lot more agitated which leads to more aggression bc more things are seen as a threat.
sexual ruts with mates sends their instinct to make sure the other IS and feels safe/good into overdrive and They Will Not Leave Their Mate
nesting is the usual find soft things make comfy/safe bed/area for pack and is extremely personal/fiercely defended from those who its not meant for; claiming territory is a wider application of 'make area feel comfy/safe for pack' alphas will patrol or steak out vantage points of their selected territory, like omegas they also dont take kindly to intruders**
alphas are built a bit more for power and tend to be offensive/face confrontation head-on(make opponent lose ground, get threats as far away from my pack as possible); while omegas are built a bit more for speed/agility and tend to be defensive/run loops around confrontations(dont let opponent gain any ground, keep threats from getting any closer to my pack) its not solid evidence when trying to tell someone's dynamic off it alone because people's natural variation is so wide and people's experiences can change how theyd react to stress and such so its usually ignored but trends Can be seen
*giyuu's like that male omega has both parts externally but no uterus so. no mpreg for him</3
**it can be kinda subtle sometimes, one example ive posted is sabito physically situating himself so hes between his pack(giyuu/tanjiro/nezuko) and the threat (sanemi/rest of the hashira)
i think thats everything? feel free 2 ask for clarification if i fucked up explaining or missed something
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Text
Found Feral
written for the @witchertrickortreat Law of Surprise promt: Found Feral
cw: domestic violence, child abuse
Wham.
“You useless little shit!”
Bang.
“Who do you think you are, huh?”
Thud.
“Try raising your hand to me again, and I’ll kill you and your whore mother both!”
The door slams shut.
Inside, his mother is sobbing, then suddenly screams. Screams for a very long time.
Lambert lies on the cold, hard ground for several minutes, coughing and wheezing. Then, once he’s able to stand up—slowly, carefully—he glares at the door and spits.
Next time, he tells himself. Or the one after that. Eventually, he will be strong enough. 
The small puddle of spittle is tinged red.
It’s almost a ritual, by this point. 
Or maybe a game.
How many times will his mother beg for mercy before Lambert tries to step in? How long before his father has an excuse to turn on him and beat him bloody, then throw him outside?
He always threatens to kill them too, and yet he never delivers.
Lambert figures it’s mainly because he wouldn’t have anyone to abuse.
Willem is gone for a very long time, but Lambert is not naive enough to think that he won’t be coming back. They had prayed for it often enough, him and his mother both, and yet Melitele never answered. Lambert had started to doubt she could even hear them at all.
He doesn’t pray anymore.
His mother does, though. Every morning, unfailingly, like clockwork.
Sometimes, he doesn’t mind. Other times, like today, he can’t stand it.
“She’s not listening!” He snaps. “She never listens! Maybe she isn’t even there.” 
He gets up to leave as his mother begs him to stop blaspheming—maybe to leave forever, he tells himself, even though he knows that he can’t.
He hates his mother.
He loves his mother.
He could never leave her.
Just as he’s by the door, it swings open and he comes face to face with his father.
They stare at each other for a moment, Willem looking more shocked than Lambert had ever seen him. He doesn’t look good, Lambert notes. He’s scratched up and bloody and on his leg there’s a wound that looks as if a chunk of it was bitten off.
“So that’s what it’ll be,” comes a voice from behind his father, and Lambert’s head swivels towards it. There’s a man he didn’t notice before standing there, armour clad and weary-looking. He has a pair of swords at his back. Lambert stares at him, uncomprehending, as Willem’s shocked expression suddenly turns to rage.
“No!” He growls and suddenly strikes out at Lambert. “You little- Why now, huh? Where the fuck were you going?” The punch to the face sends Lambert to the ground. He curls up defensively, waits for an inevitable second blow to follow, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a sound of a quick scuffle, of a body hitting the ground, and then the mystery man speaks up—and when Lambert looks up, Willem is at his feet, cowering.
“As agreed, the boy belongs to me now. You will not harm him further.”
“Yes, yes, of course, sir Witcher! As you say! The boy is yours.” Willem yelps, scuttling away into the back of the room. The man- The Witcher nods and holds a hand out to Lambert.
“Come, boy.”
Lambert sits up and stares at him, uncomprehending. The Witcher must notice the confusion in the boy's eyes, because he sighs, retracting his hand.
"I saved your father's life, and in return, he promised me the first thing he laid eyes on upon coming home." He gives Lambert a meaningful look. "And that… Would be you."
Lambert immediately breaks out in a cold sweat. No. Fuck, no. This wasn not happening to him.
"Fuck you!" He yells, getting up and balling his hands into fists. "You saved his life, so take him and leave us alone!"
The witcher smiles then. "You have spirit—good." He gestures with one hand and for a moment, Lambert feels a little woozy. Suddenly, going with the man doesn't seem so bad… Surely, he would take care of him, and his parents would be fine- 
"No!" The thought is so jarring, it breaks him out of the trance, and Lambert suddenly knows that the Witcher had just tried to put some kind of spell on him. He shakes his head to clear it and glares defiantly at the man, who stares back in surprise.
"Too much spirit, perhaps." He smiles again. Then he moves, so fast Lambert barely registers it. Something hits the back of Lambert's head and everything goes dark.
Vesemir sighs in relief when they finally reach Kaer Morhen. They boy must be feral—he had been a handful during the journey, attempting escape no less than five times.
But they’re home now.
He’ll learn that yet.
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aparticularbandit · 11 months
Note
"Fix it Fic", this week?
WIP Wednesday Game
Definitely, definitely!
...in which I skip out of Helen's head because I, uh, have a hard time with keeping her voice correct.
Claire hears the door open, but she doesn’t look up.  If it’s any of her friends, they’ll be gentle, place a hand on her shoulder, and stand there for a few minutes while she gets up the nerve to leave the room – to leave Andi to one of them – and if it’s Doctor Clark, then she’ll only need to move if the doctor needs to use this arm to check on Andi’s status, on anything vital that the machines aren’t already keeping track of.  She sighs, opens her mouth to say something—
“Get.  Out.”
Her eyes widen.  She doesn’t know that tone – or that accent – but there’s only one person with the authority to remove her so completely.  She turns just enough to take in the woman who looks so much like Andi – and so much not like her – and says, voice soft with some emotion that she can’t identify, “Helen?”
Helen’s dark eyes narrow.  “So you know who I am, but you don’t listen to me when I tell you to get your shitty ass self out of my sister’s hospital room.”  She grabs Claire’s arm and pulls her up – Claire doesn’t know what sort of job Helen has, because Andi rarely if ever talked about her, but she finds out all too quick that she’s strong – then drags her to the door.
“Look,” Claire starts, trying to meet Helen’s eyes and holding them as long as she can (but those are Andi’s eyes – Andi’s eyes when she is at her most upset – and the last time Claire saw Andi was at that awful trial, hearing her screech at her and having to force herself to—), and she’s never forgotten how much smaller Andi is than her, has to realize now how much smaller Helen is, too, "this isn’t the best way to meet, but we—”
“I don’t care, you shithead.”  Helen pushes her out the door.  “I want you and the rest of them gone.”  Then she shuts the door in Claire’s face.
Claire stands outside the hospital room for the span of ten heartbeats, trying to think things through, trying to find the most politically correct way to fix this, and then, failing that, some other way to fix this, but she can’t fix anything if Helen is locked in there and she’s out here, and…and…and….
She probably can’t fix this at all.
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enoughtotemptme · 2 years
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someone reaching back for me
The first time Eddie Munson watches Chrissy Cunningham die isn’t the worst. It’s the second, because he had thought she was going to live this time. //
The universe made a cosmic mistake the day Chrissy Cunningham was allowed to die. It set off a chain of events that led to catastrophe, at first local, then global, and eventually interdimensional. It led to the end of all there is, was, and would ever be.
But the universe is rather interested in self-preservation. It couldn’t save itself in the future, but it could save itself then.
If only someone would get it right.
Chapters: 5/24 Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Relationship: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, Time Loop, Angst, Recreational Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Eventual Happy Ending
Chapter 5
5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5   L O O P  F I V E   5 5 5 5 5
Eddie Munson decides he’s done being a coward. 
He tries changing more little things that day, asking new questions and playing his favorite Metallica song for her in the van on the way to the trailer. He learns her favorite school subject is English (“With Ms. O’Donnell?!” he responds, aghast) and that she had a sheltie named Penny when she was small.
When the thing that takes her lifts her into the air, breaks her body and ruins her eyes, he makes himself catch her when it finally lets her go. His voice is hoarse from screaming (he’s not sure he’d ever be able to watch this happen to her without screaming) and tears drip off his chin and onto her face. 
He doesn’t leave her alone, not until consciousness fades as he’s praying to wake up and have it be Friday morning again.
[click here to read on ao3]
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etfrin · 5 months
Text
⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-
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⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!
⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem
⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)
<masterlist> < bc: @cafekitsune >
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He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.
When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.
His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”
You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.
He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.
You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.
Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.
Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”
You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.
Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.
You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.
You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.
One. Snow was here.
Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.
Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.
And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.
A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.
“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.
He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.
Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.
Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.
He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.
“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.
“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.
Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.
His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”
With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.
“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”
“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.
The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.
You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.
He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.
His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.
He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.
He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.
All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.
The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.
His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.
“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.
“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.
The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.
You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.
His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.
“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.
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sleep-escapes-me · 1 year
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A completed collection of 28 one-shots all showcasing Imogen & Laudna in a variety of prompts and universes.
Relationship: Imogen x Laudna
Word Count: 38,923
Death. Merfolk girl. Lightning. Naked Fearne. Delilah!? Fleeing a prison, stuck in the hole, coming back to life, crashing at your ex's stronghold for a week 'cause technically you killed your patron!
Everything is written into a semi-canon compliant Exandria. (no modern/real world AUs) There’s angst and humor, fated first meetings and earnest confessions of love, dead rats and dead people, cute slice-of-life moments. Just a lovely amalgamation of universes for Imogen and Laudna to interact with each other again and again.
Read it on AO3
list of prompts under read more
mini summaries and (word counts)
Strange First Meeting (457) - Classic meet cute.
Caught in the Rain (681) - Imogen deals with stress.
What's up, doc? (392) - Just a cute caring for the other moment.
Second Love (892) - Imogen is leaving. Laudna is worried.
Roadtrip/Backpacking (885) - Sometimes it's not always best to go off the beaten path.
Pirate AU (948) - They're not pirates.
Pull a Rabbit Out of a Hat (443) - FCG doesn't like magicians.
Going Down a Rabbit Hole (1427) - They say drugs can open your mind.
Soulmate AU (1828) - Marks and tattoos on one's body glow when you think about your soulmate or are around them.
Opposites (1076) - Laudna is dead. Imogen reads her journal.
Why Are You Naked in my Bed? (538) - It's Fearne.
Secret Admirer (1168) - Laudna has a secret admirer.
Vampire AU (1071) - The hunger brings interesting developments.
Merfolk AU (2217) - Laudna finds a hidden lake.
Fairy Tale AU (2041) - Once upon a time Matilda got a second chance at life.
Starting a New Tradition (1158) - La Calamity: An Exandrian Opera
Fake Dating (1691) - In the name of undercover work.
Curses (712) - She’s blue! Again!
Blood is Thicker Than Water (1128) - Laudna will always support her girl...
Trapped Together (894) - 10 minutes in the hole.
College AU (1822) - Pining from a distance means nothing when Fearne gets involved.
Plenty of Fish in the Sea (1448) - Sad girl Imogen. [2nd person POV]
Crime/Mafia AU (3387) - Years have passed since Imogen and Laudna have seen each other.
Flotsam and Jetsam (1138) - Flotsam are things in the water deliberately thrown overboard. Jetsam are things in the water as the result of a shipwreck.
Lighthouse Keeper AU (5364) - Imogen finds an abandoned lighthouse and maybe a friend.
What's the Worst That Could Happen? (1539) - Laudna gets a job as a prison guard.
Nontraditional Format (1346) - FCG wrote a script.
Still Waters Run Deep (934) - Laudna loves the little things about Imogen. [2nd person POV]
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