#my clumsy ass can’t keep track of things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seabirdtxt · 10 months

Text

Event batch 4

a little later than i anticipated, but the next batch is here!! only two batches left 🤗🩵 thank you to all my requesters!! and apologies if i deviated from your original prompt these things really take on a mind of their own when i write 🫡

🩵 Check out my other event requests! 🩵

for Anon || Scaramouche x Reader - Modern AU, urban fantasy, monster hunters (not main characters), rivals to friends (implied potential for more)

for @resident-cryptid || Foul Legacy x Reader - SAGAU, imposter hunt

for Anon || Tighnari x Reader - Canon setting, Tighnari x reader, Life & Death trope, reader is a mortician, mention/discussion of deaths

----- ⚘ -----

Of the Night

You clutch your side as you dart down the nearest alleyway, foot splashing into a murky puddle. You haul yourself up the fire escape with one arm, doing your best to move quickly. Once you reach the roof, it’s just a matter of speed.

You jump from building to building, hoping beyond hope that your pursuers aren’t parkour experts. There’s only one place that you can think of, the only place nobody will look for you. Your chances of survival either way seem slim.

You find the building you’re looking for, sliding as quietly as you can off the roof and onto the tiny balcony you hope belongs to the correct apartment. Keeping your fingers crossed, you knock on the window of the sliding glass door.

There’s a shuffle of movement inside, and then the blackout curtains move to the side just enough to let a blade of light hit the corner of your eye. You squint into the brightness, offering an apologetic smile around your elongated canines.

The door slides open and a pale hand reaches through to grab you, yanking you inside. You stumble over the door track, whimpering as the movement jostles the arm that’s holding your wound.

“What the hell happened to you?” Scaramouche hisses, his nose wrinkling at the stench of wolf blood.

“... Hunters afoot,” is all you can say before you collapse from exhaustion.

---

You awake some time later, probably not all that long, with a thick padding of bandages around your torso. You sit up, ignoring the screaming pain from your injury, to take in your surroundings. The room is dark, hardly any decorations on the wall, and the bed you’re stretched out on is plain and uncomfortable, as if it’s never been used.

Scaramouche sits at the end of the bed, wiping blood from his hands with a wet cloth. You snort, drawing his attention. His eyes are electric in the low light.

“I’m surprised you didn’t sneak a little taste, leech,” you taunt. The vampire’s expression darkens and he throws the soiled rag in your face.

“As if I want to know what dog tastes like. That’s the thanks I get for patching up your clumsy ass, mutt?” he demands, his insult not quite landing with how worried he looks. “How did you even let it get this bad? Why didn’t you, y’know, wolf out or something?”

“You can’t climb fences with paws, dummy,” you tell him, wiggling your thumbs in front of his face. He pushes your hands back down with a look of annoyance, the tip of his fangs peeking out over his lip with the expression.

It’s the city’s favourite public scandal, that senator Ei and her son are creatures of the night. Due to their standing, and some pretty hardworking PR agents, they’ve been working on fixing the reputation of monsters year by year. Despite some of the new anti-discrimination laws in place, nothing will stop a very determined hunter from going after random citizens they decide aren’t human enough.

Beastfolk like Doctor Tighnari, and Ei’s own partner Miko, don’t get nearly the same kind of bad rep as werewolves. People like you are still heavily stereotyped, despite the countless arguments that you all retain your sound mind during the transformation.

That’s why you’re here, in your old highschool rival’s apartment on a full moon night instead of running around in the park like you’d originally planned. Everybody knows of the age-old feud between vampires and werewolves. Plus, it’s been years since you last saw each other, nobody will associate you with him these days. Nobody will think to look for you here.

You look at the curtained window, then at Scaramouche, who’s still sitting on the bed. His back is to you, a little bit broader than he used to be when you kicked his ass at track and field. You don’t resist the urge to extend your hand, shifting your nails just a tiny bit, to touch the sharp angles of his shoulder.

You don’t make it, of course. Little bugger had lighting reflexes in school too, even if you were the faster runner. He turns and grabs your wrist before it even comes close to touching him. With surprising strength, he pulls you close by your arm until your noses are almost touching.

“Paws off,” Scaramouche mocks you, his slit-like pupils barely visible with his narrowed eyes. He gives you a smirk. “Bad doggie.”

You snatch your hand back quickly, growling softly under your breath. You look down and test the bandages, finding them to be holding firmly.

“... So when d’you want me to get out of your hair?” You ask, knowing that you’ve definitely overstayed your welcome by now.

“You can hide here for the rest of the night,” his answer comes, much too quickly to be anything other than impulse. You raise your eyebrow at that, knowing he definitely sees you with his night vision. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just say you owe me one later, okay?”

You whuff and kick him gently, which earns you a pillow to the face.

Tomorrow morning he’ll make you breakfast, and you’ll probably eat enough to put him out of house and home, and you’ll tell him all about the hunters who chased you down last night, and sometime over the week you’ll hear through the grapevine about some college kids going missing but you won’t think anything of it.

Sometime during the week, you’ll get a text from an unknown number telling you to use the front door next time, and a six digit passcode for an apartment building security system.

But tonight, you let Scaramouche baby you (as much as he denies it) and you fall asleep in his dumb, uncomfortable bed to the sound of him saying you haven’t changed a bit.

----- ⚘ -----

Blood in the Water

You don’t have gold blood, or super strength, or special powers. What you have is the clothes on your back, a pocketful of change for your bus fare, and a dead phone.

And the face of Teyvat’s omnipresent god, apparently. Not that that’s done you any favors since you got here. There’s been an order to bring your head to this Creator person. Preferably on a silver plate. Maybe a spike, if they’re feeling artistic.

That’s how you find yourself being chased by dozens of people who you thought were your favourite videogame characters. You surely regret it now, having upgraded them and kitted them all with best-in-slot weapons and artifacts. You’re not sure you want to test whether or not you’ll revive like the traveler, so you just run.

You’ve accumulated a plethora of wounds, doing your best to keep them clean and wrapped until you can figure out how to get back home. You move only at night, taking care to avoid places you distantly remember being inhabited. You even avoid the monsters, too afraid that they’d cause a ruckus and attract attention.

You find a cave. It’s not much more than a hole between the cliff face and the ground, but it's a shelter at the very least. You tuck yourself into it eagerly, hoping that the unremarkable location will save you from waking up to a knife pointed at your face.

You wish you could say you slept well, but you woke up barely an hour later to the sound of something scraping against the dirt outside. You risk a peek, and immediately shriek and retreat to the back of the cave.

Just outside, trying to dig his way in, is Childe’s Foul Legacy form. You briefly send a thought to whatever powers that be, hoping you can somehow get out of this alive.

The man stops his scratching, face leaning down to peer into your burrow. You can’t see him, but you get the sense that Childe is smiling behind his mask.

“Wakey wakey, little impostor,” he sings, reaching in to claw at the walls of your hideout. “Come on, I wanna play a little before we bring you in!”

Just as he finishes saying that, he gives a strange choked noise and yanks his arm out of the hole, clutching at his head. You don’t question it, taking the opportunity to make a break for it. You hear a frustrated snarl behind you, and the sound of heavy footsteps quickly follows.

You don’t stick around to find out what happened.

You’re not sure which direction you’re going anymore, your sense of direction completely messed up now that you’re seeing Teyvat in person. As a result you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, which is a nice way to say you Wile E Coyote’d yourself straight off a cliff.

You let out an undignified shriek, limbs flailing as you plummet down toward the frothing ocean below. Is it better to drown than to be stabbed, you wonder? You glance over your shoulder and watch in dread as Childe leaps down after you, arms outstretched. You close your eyes, and pray it will be fast.

---

You open your eyes one at a time, mostly surprised you’re still alive to do so. You take quick stock of yourself, and find that you miraculously still have all your limbs and belongings. Next, you look around for-

There he is, sitting on a rock behind you. Childe watches in silence as you check yourself over, which you think is a little bit creepy. You wave hesitantly, offering a wonky smile.

“Your Grace,” a deep, raspy voice emits from Foul Legacy, definitely not Childe’s.

A little stupidly, you look around and behind yourself, before turning back to Foul Legacy and pointing at your own chest. The creature nods.

“We have been waiting.” it rumbles, standing up and walking toward you. It’s much more imposing now that you have a good look at it, and you shrink back instinctively. “Be not afraid, Your Grace. The people of Teyvat are ignorant of your status, but the Dark knows.”

“What… what does that mean?” you squeak as Foul Legacy finally stops in front of you, talons reaching up to gently caress your face. You freeze, unable to will yourself to move when you’re so close to getting your head sliced off.

“You are the true Creator,” Foul Legacy says, surprisingly patient. “It is difficult to tell, as your divine presence is faint, but those who know will recognize it immediately.”

The creature reaches into your pocket with its thumb and forefinger, pulling out your dead phone. It gives the phone to you, so you take it mutely. You watch as Foul Legacy activates Childe’s electro Delusion, tapping the black screen with one claw.

Immediately, your phone blinks to life.

“Woah! That’s useful,” you gasp, unable to help your surprise.

“Your divine focus, Your Grace,” Foul Legacy nods. At its encouragement, you open up the lockscreen.

It loads into the Genshin Impact game immediately, and the first thing you notice is the plethora of new buttons available to you. You look up at Foul Legacy curiously.

“Teyvat is yours to command,” it states, then stiffens and flexes its hands. “I cannot hold him at bay for much longer, this is where I take my leave.”

‘He’ must be Childe, trapped inside the living armor of Foul Legacy. Internally, you wince at how lowkey degrading that must be. You wave as Foul Legacy bounds up the cliff, taking Childe somewhere far away from you.

Once the creature is gone, you open your phone once more and stare at the new UI. Well, you think, might as well give it a shot.

Your thumb presses down on a button.

----- ⚘ -----

Memento Mori

Many people question how Tighnari can stand to be so close to you. He, who’s study in biology brought him into the light, into an affinity with all things life. Meanwhile you, who studied the same Amurta major as he did, delved into the field of sickness and decay and death.

You chuckle and close the icebox, letting the body of a departed grandmother rest before it is her time to be returned to the earth. As one of Sumeru’s few morticians, it’s your job to respect a good death, and to help the family in their time of suffering.

But there is also beauty, and life, in death. You see it every day, when people come to visit their loved ones at their gravesite. There is much love and sadness, yes, but there is blossoming and growth in it as well. They plant bushes and flowers to mark the resting places, and with each new shoot the visitors continue to grow as time passes.

Likewise, Tighnari knows that his job as a forest ranger is not just about preserving life, as much as he tries his best to keep fools on the right path. To preserve life, you must also respect death. The bodies of dead animals will feed their peers for days, and the decomposition of fallen trees will nourish the soil for years to come.

People don’t know how you and Tighnari can coexist so well, and it’s because they don’t realize that the two of you are each other’s perfect mirror. You balance each other out; where Tighnari is strict and hotheaded, you are patient and soothing. When Tighnari laments the decline of a species, you are the one who brings him the skull of their ancestors to show him that these creatures have come a long way and will persist under his care.

When the two of you come home after a long day apart, you share stories and gripes about your daily work, smushed together on your too-small couch and watching over Collei as she studies her letters.

“I had to stop a would-be explorer from wandering into the Withering zone again,” Tighnari sighs, his ear flicking down to brush the top of your head.

“Unfortunate,” you muse. “I’m assuming you succeeded, given you’re in a relatively good mood.”

“Oh, of course,” he waves his hand at the notion. “No thanks to the idiot’s lack of compass, or common sense. How about you? You are terribly lucky you don’t have to suffer fools the same way I do.”

“A grandfather who passed last week was visited today,” you tell him. “His family requested that he be cremated, and have given me a pouch of his late wife’s ashes to send with him on his final journey.”

“That’s very kind of them,” Tighnari replies, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. Despite your love and respect for your job, and how many requests and wishes you fulfilled, there is always a vague sense of melancholy that follows you home.

“His granddaughter will be enrolled in school this year,” you continue, holding his hand in yours. “Her father said she seems to take an interest in her grandfather’s old books. She likes the pictures.”

“The cycle keeps moving,” Tighnari nods. The two of you are distracted as Collei exclaims in joy, leaping up from where she’s sitting on the floor (and isn’t that amazing? She regains a bit of her strength every day) running to you to show you the perfect score she’d gotten from her homework.

Yes, many people question how Tighnari can stand to be so close to you, but who else besides you two can perfectly balance life and death?

#genshin modern au #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #vampire scaramouche #genshin isekai #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau cult au #sagau impostor au #genshin childe #genshin foul legacy #foul legacy x reader #genshin tighnari #tighnari x reader #seabird.txt #birdy.thanks

123 notes · View notes

kyliafanfiction · 11 months

Text

so, I read the full fanlore page for that whole ‘fandom ghost’ thing about m/m and the way there’s this one character that keeps being written into every character over and over, across pairings, inserted into a usually minor or underdeveloped character, etc

and there was a section on a female ghost that also tends to show up in a lot of these m/m fics, a smart, sassy, beautiful female character who is also reduced to being an enabler for the m/m ship, etc.

And while I don’t really read m/m, that does track with my limited exposure.

BUT, I think there is also a fandom ghost in f/f fic too. I honestly don’t read the wider f/f widely enough to articulate it as much, just what’s in my fandoms and I don’t really have an expansive set of them or add new ones that easily.

BUT in my experience, and from what I see in summaries and tags on ao3 and posts here on tumblr, there is a common character archtype wedged into characters regardless of if they fit, across a lot of femmeslash stories.

I can’t give a solid point by point as I write this at 5 in the morning, coming off stewing over the thoughts in my sleep, or so it feels, but like:

the m/m fandom ghost is a type a personality, controlled and tsundere and hypercompetent and gets wrecked by the messy guy that comes in and destroys their carefully crafted life, etc.

The f/f fandom ghost that I’ve seen is actually the opposite. That is, when given two characters that seem like a viable ship, one of the characters is whacked with a hammer until she fits a mold: an often clumsy or perhaps more accurately careless, butch (and made more so than her canon presentation), very muscular (again, more so than her canon presentation), often quite a ladies woman, very toppy, definitely plays opposite a more repressed or controlled character (but usually one who is bettered rooted in canon as being that), and destroys that character’s neat little world. They are usually, despite their butchness, a lot sillier or softer outside the bedroom, again, and they think sunshine comes out of the other character’s ass even before they get together and -

I’m starting to run into some limitations on the specific words because I just don’t read this enough to stop and articulate it (because I often close out of F/F fics that get too into wedging the characters into archetypes like this rather than the characters themselves (because it does happen a lot) but I very much do have a ‘I know it when I see it’ thing happening here.

I’ve seen it crop up in Buffy/Faith, Kara/Lena, Regina/Emma and in others I have read less extensively (there are F/F ships I’ve never seen it in, like Tara/Willow) that I’m not thinking of specifically

And like, there is a bit of a difference between the m/m fandom ghost, which is really the same character being dressed in a new skin over and over, and that skin usually being a minor or secondary character, etc, and this f/f one, which is more likely (but not always) to be fit into a fairly prominent character, and is less like one character wearing different skin and more many square characters being badly bashed into one round hole, but

I feel like I’m on to something here. For some femmeslash writers, there really are a lot of fics that feel like they’re not writing the two characters. They’re writing the one character and an archetype that may not actually fit the other character all that well, but damn the Torpedos and full speed ahead.

#Musings #Just Little Fandom Things #Just Little Shipping Things #Femmeslash #The Fandom Ghost #I think the argument in those comments put on the fanlore page about the ghost hux/etc having a lot of classically female traits from #romance fiction etc has a lot of merit and so it makes sense that an F/F fandom ghost wouldn't have the same traits because a lot of female #characters already have them #and instead the f/f fandom ghost essentially inverts the dynamic #rather than inserting a controlled tsundere hypercompetent character to be wrecked by an existing hot messy one #they invite a hot messy one to wreck an existing controlled hypercompetent and often tsundere #Like I've seen this in many ships even if specifics escape me but the specific one where this bashing into a round hole thing #comes to mind for me right now is the way Kara in supercorp fics is all too likely to be butchified #like Kara in the show is *not* butch but my god do some fanfics just bash her into that shape or otherwise try to make her fit an #oft-used dynamic #Kylia Writes a Novel In The Tags #Kylia Has a Thought She Can't Get Out Of Her Head But Also Has Trouble Articulating It As Clearly As She'd Like #Thinky Thoughts Thinking Through The Thick

7 notes · View notes

homeofthelonelywriter · 2 years

Text

HM: Negan x clumsy!Reader

(A/N) Headcanon Monday! Headcanon Monday! I hope ya’ll like Headcanon Monday! (I’m writting this on April 1st and I just summoned 740 crabs, so I’m kinda in a silly mood...sorry not sorry!) Anyway @crookedcolorcollectorsthings (no idea why I can’t tag you) thank you so much for your request and for being my 2000st follower! I hope you like it! Although I feel like I went a little of track...

Pairing: Negan x clumsy! Reader

Warnings: smut under the cut

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

the first time you meet Negan you are stumbling through the woods

you’re not paying attention, lost in your thoughts and when he suddenly appears in front of you, you get scared so bad, you stumble backwards and trip over a branch on the ground

Negan, like the little piece of shit he is, laughs and mocks you

then he offers you help to get up

he is after all a gentleman (not really, but kinda)

he tells you about the Sanctuary and since you don’t have anywhere else to go, you agree

on the way there it already clear that you’re going to be a pain in his ass

you trip over every single pebble and Negan has to catch you countless times

he is already annoyed when you reach the car

what you don’t know is that he finds it kind of endearing

he also really enjoys your time together in the car

you have a lot in common

taste in music

humor

you even find out that you both lived quiet close to each other before the apocalypse

all in all he really starts to like you

back at the Sanctuary Negan quickly shows you around, subconsciously making sure that there was nothing you could trip over in the way

Negan quickly decided to keep you close

you got a room close to him

and your job was to be his “personal assistant”

yeah, he made that position up

anyway

he had you stay by his side all day

take notes for him

bring him drinks

(which you would occasionally spill over said notes)

accompany him to meetings

tripping on the way there

it almost became a routine

Negan got better and better at helping you when you are clumsy

catching you when you trip

keeping you from spilling his drinks

or your food

or your own drinks

he showed you how he liked things done

not just as his “personal assistant” but as a Savior

and that way you climbed the ranks

it didn’t take long before you were one of the most respected members of the Sanctuary

not just because Negan liked you

or because he showed you how things worked

but because you were also kind

you more or less portrayed the opposite side of Negan

while still being trusted by him

during all this you two form a relationship

and who would’ve thought

even in this aspect you are clumsy

but not because you just are

no, you are just inexperienced

an apocalypse isn’t necessarily the time to find a partner

but Negan is quick to help you in that aspect too

after all, it’s a good excuse to kiss you all the time

and keep you even closer than before

he would say that he’s ‘training’ you

and that included kissing and PDA

like major PDA

his arm would constantly be around your waist or on your back

he would pull you onto his lap if he was sitting down somewhere

and he would always be kissing you

and if not your lips, your neck

hickeys…okay, let me repeat that….HICKEYS

and a lot of them

and in very seeable places too

he uses them to let everyone know you’re his

okay…I think I went a little of track

back to…smut? below the cut! (hehe that rhymed)

if you’re already unexperienced when it comes to normal relationship stuff, you’re hela unexperienced when it comes to sex

but Negan really likes it

you’re not like his wives, and he enjoys that

if it’s your first time he will be really gentle and careful

guiding and preparing you accordingly

starting by eating you out like his life depends on it

you can’t count all the orgasms you go through

and when you think you’re done for the night, completely exhausted

Negan makes you realize that that was just the start

he L.O.V.E.S. it when you ride him

the view

*heart-eyes* *pure adoration*

and the boobs

he loves the boobs

is there anything better than boobs?

not if you ask Negan

he also loves the clumsy way you behave during sex

how you immediately blush and get all shy when something happens

but Negan just laughs and tries his best to pull you out of your shyness

and honestly

after like…a few weeks with him

you’re no longer clumsy when it comes to relationship stuff and sex

you’re a pro

and desired by every person in the Sanctuary

but you belong to Negan

and he to you

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

Join my Patreon <3

#negan #negan twd #negan the walking dead #negan x reader #negan headcanons #negan fanfiction #negan imagine #negan fanfic #negan ff #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead headcanons #fanfic friday

252 notes · View notes

hoonhrt · 3 years

Text

ENHYPEN WHEN THEY ACCIDENTALLY HIT YOU

: pairing — boyfriend! enhypen x reader

: genre — fluff (maybe a little angsty)

: warnings — mentions of accidentally hitting. please remember that this is completely fiction.

: a/n — this was requested by my lovely vi <3 @hooniee

･:*:･ﾟ☆ heeseung

you guys were playing mario kart together and things were getting intense

heeseung was only a few seconds away from the finish line before you threw a spiny shell and zoomed past him to the end

he got so frustrated and threw his body towards the floor, kicking his legs back

what he didnt realize was his foot smacking against your shoulder, which made you fall out of the impact

you knew it was on accident but lowkey it still hurt heeseung got powerful ass legs

but just to be dramatic, you let out a painful screech

which made him stop his mini tantrum and immediately bring all his attention to you

he frantically grabs your shoulders, shaking your body back and forth

“ARE YOU OKAY BABY?? OH MY GOD DID I HURT YOU?? SHOULD WE TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL??”

safe to say hee is very panicky

you start laughing louder, assuring him that you are okay and aren’t hurt

he tugs you onto his lap and hides into the crook of your neck apologizing a million times, leaving tons of kisses

･:*:･ﾟ☆ jay

you two were just hanging out in his room, you seated on his bed while he was rummaging through his closet to find this specific shirt so he could match with you for your date

you were lazily scrolling through your phone before a hanger hit you smack dab in the certain of your face

jay was throwing everything everywhere and he happened to throw the hanger without realizing

“OWWW JAY WHAT THE HELL” as you held your nose with your eyes shut

he whipped his head to see you in scrunching your face in pain

he is actually very calm

he walks over and gently places his hands on your face, inspecting your face for any cuts

he then walk out of the room to grab an ice pack for you

sits you on his lap and holds the ice pack for you while you lean against his chest

“im so sorry baby, it was an accident, are you okay?” he whispers gently

you can’t help but smile and think how adorable he is

nodding your head, jay sends you a soft smile back and rubs the small of your back with his free hand and presses soft kisses to your cheek

･:*:･ﾟ☆ jake

jake had decided it would be a cute idea to take you with him for layla’s daily walk

the 3 of you were at the dog park, throwing a ball back and forth between each other while layla tried to chase it

you were laughing at layla looking frantic, not paying attention to the ball jake threw

the ball hit you right on your forehead, you groaning out in pain

jake ran as fast as he could (he was a soccer player ofc he runs fast) to aid to you

grabs your face in his hands and inspects your head very worriedly

“oh no baby do you need ice? should we go back home?”

layla sitting at your feet confused to what just happened

you reassure him that youre fine

sweet jakey never wants to hurt you ever :(((

“im SO sorry my baby it was TOTALLY an accident”

keeps kissing your forehead and pouts the whole way home :(

･:*:･ﾟ☆ sunghoon

sunghoon had forced you to go on a run with him around your nearby school track

note: forced.

sunghoon was running at full speed while you barely moved behind

he wanted you to run with him

cute little work out date is what he aimed for

so he waits for you to catch up and tries to motivate you to run faster

“honey lets gooooo!! we can hold hands and run together c’monnnnnnn~~

with that, he pushes your body forward which caught you off guard and made you fall forward on your face

he started to hysterically laugh before realizing you weren’t getting up

will try to act as if he isn’t the reason you just fell

“aigooo my clumsy baby~ cmon grab on to my hand, yup there you go!”

he doesn’t directly apologize

but instead kisses your hand all the way home and stops at the convenience store to get you all your favourite snacks

･:*:･ﾟ☆ sunoo

you guys were watching a tv show and the main lead male character was FINALLY confessing to the main lead female character

sunoo was VERY EXCITED he had been waiting for this to happen

he was squealing and started to smack your leg out of excitement

he didn’t realize how hard he was hitting until you grabbed his hand which stopped his movements

he looked at you with wide eyes confused as to why you weren’t as excited as him

you told him to be a little more careful as he was hitting a little hard

INSTANT POUT AND APOLOGIES :((

he didn’t mean to, he was just so happy :((

“m’sorry baby i was just too excited!!”

of course, you knew he didn’t mean to

he softly massaged that part of your leg while laying his head on your shoulders still pouting

you laughed before enclosing your arms around him

･:*:･ﾟ☆ jungwon

he was teaching you some taekwondo moves as you sparked an interest in learning and he wanted to make sure you could defend yourself from weirdos when he isnt around :<

you guys began to playfully spar with each other before jungwon kicked your knee just a little too hard

sending you crashing to the floor

you grabbed your knee and groaned in pain

he starts to panic

“omg, omg, OMG LOVE ARE YOU OKAY I AM, SO SORRY AHHH WHAT DO I DO”

you giggle at his panic and just stick your hand out to pick you back up

he guides you towards the couch and runs out of the room to get you an ice pack

sits at your leg holding the ice pack

lays his head on your other knee with a pout

you just run your hands through his hair softly

･:*:･ﾟ☆ ni-ki

you and ni-ki were in the dance studio just goofing off teaching each other dance moves

ni-ki was trying to teach you a movie but you couldn’t get it right

so he playfully pushed you

you were caught off guard and fell on the floor

at first, he just stared at you before laughing at you (you were laughing as well)

he picked you up and threw you over your shoulder playfully running around the word

he placed you down and back hugged you, resting his head on top of your head

“i’m sorry bub” he whispers before kissing your cheek shyly

you wave him off and ruffle his hair before going back to the little dance part you were having earlier

2K notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

YES TO THE SNIPPETS YES PLEASE

Thanks to everyone who asked for this! You're amazing! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

You can find the inspiration/ sequel here! Thanks to AJ and Lev for their hcs about the smutty situations, and to the discord for the last snippet!

Combined with a prompt for some relaxed Coops smut

Remus fell on the bed and immediately yelped as if he’d been hit. “What?” Sirius asked, concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Just bruised,” he said with a grimace, rubbing one thigh.

Sirius frowned and knelt at the edge of the bed. “Why are you bruised?”

“I got checked yesterday, remember?” He winced as Sirius gently prodded the base of the bruise and pulled his shorts off; he made a soft, sad noise, pressing a kiss to the blue-black skin. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Still. I don’t like it.” Sirius’ lower lip stuck out slightly in a pout, and he guided his face back down for a kiss.

“Everything else is a-okay,” he murmured, trailing a path of light bites down the column of his neck as he laid back. “C’mere, I’ll prove it.”

The world was starting to go black at the edges, popping with fireworks as Remus scrambled for purchase on the strong forearms by his ribs. Sirius’ hold on him was firm, and had been for the past—oh, god, how long had he been like this? Ten minutes? An hour? Eternity? Another shudder rocked through him and he moaned around the fabric clenched tight between his teeth.

“Good boy,” Sirius panted as he hiked Remus’ shaking leg up around his hip. “There you go, you’re doing so well.”

An unsteady whine broke through as well; the mattress creaked beneath him, and through his delirious happiness he wondered if this would be the day they finally broke it. Sirius was so painfully close to where Remus needed him most, just a little bit more—

“Fucking hell,” Sirius muttered, wrapping his palms around Remus’ hips and hauling him into the right spot. His thighs clenched around Sirius’ waist as he babbled his approval, no longer registering the damp in his mouth or anything that came out of it. “Come on, just a little—oh my fucking god.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. Remus slammed his hand down on the bed with an embarrassing noise of half-confusion, half-protest. Sirius’ voice had gone up about eight octaves; his gaze was no longer dark with lust, but instead laser-focused on something to Remus’ left. “The fuck are you doing?” he managed to snap when his jaw finally released, though his tongue was mostly blocked by fabric.

“Don’t. Move.”

Fear crept in alongside his frustration as Sirius pulled his arms to his chest and scooted toward the other edge. Something is very wrong. The thought sent a wash of cold through him and he carefully sat up, pulling the gag from his mouth. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Why is it getting closer?” Sirius all but whimpered. Remus steeled his nerves and slowly turned to follow his sightline.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he complained. There was no relief, just building crankiness. “Really?”

“Kill it. Please.” Remus ground his teeth and dug a tissue out of the nightstand, then squished the microscopic spider and immediately chucked the tissue at Sirius. “Remus, oh my god!”

“Please tell me there was something more than that,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do you mean?”

Keep your tone even and calm, no matter how much you want to scream. “Sirius. If you stopped fucking the soul out of my body for a spider the size of a dust mote, you can say goodbye to pre-game blowjobs.”

A moment of silence fell between them. “For how long?”

Remus glared at him and hoped his pink cheeks and shaking legs wouldn’t diminish the threat. “For as long as I see fit.”

“…I love you?”

“Have fun throwing that tissue away. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower by myself.”

“Non, mon loup, wait—"

III

The edge was so close he could taste it. Remus arched his back with a low sound as Sirius’ tongue did something truly fantastic—he might not give blowjobs often, but goddamn was he good at it. “Yeah,” he sighed, combing his fingers through Sirius’ hair. “Yeah, that.”

Sirius’ hum sent shocks all the way up his thighs; it took every iota of self-control not to clamp his thighs around his ears. Remus pushed the side of his face into the pillow, riding the waves of a lazy morning and a warm mouth, when suddenly it disappeared entirely.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Did you let the dog out?”

Remus blinked at him for a long moment, then leaned back and threw an arm over his eyes. “Baby, that’s the third time in an hour you’ve asked.”

“Sorry. Is that a yes?”

“Are you kidding right now?”

“It’s a genuine—”

“Nope,” he groaned, sitting up. “Not doing this today.”

Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “But you were almost there!”

“You don’t say!” he gasped sarcastically as he hoisted himself to his feet and shook off the last bits of thrilled dizziness. “I’ll be in the shower.”

“Wait, no, I can do it!” Sirius’ arms wrapped around his waist and soft lips pressed against his mid-back. “I’m sorry, I was overthinking. Please don’t leave me here.”

“It’s like ten feet, love.”

“And you could stay here instead and get a really nice apology blowjob.” Teeth scraped his wingbone; Remus closed his eyes at the pleasant fizz down his spine as Sirius worked a small lovebite into his skin. “Please?”

“Do you promise not to ask about the dog again? Because she’s fine, and very happy with her new chew toy.”

“Cross my heart.” Sirius turned him around and kissed his nose, tugging him back down.

Sirius was a mess, and Remus was beyond smug about it. A helpless moan was music to his ears as he pulled on Sirius’ mussed hair and attached his mouth to the smooth skin that was exposed. “Please,” he whined, shifting his hips harder onto Remus’ fingers. “Please, please, mon coeur, please.”

“How much time do you have left?” Remus asked, channeling as much patience as he could muster. Sometimes, he wondered who the edging was supposed to punish.

Sirius’ whimper was the only answer he needed. “Fuck, fuck—two. Two minutes.”

“Good job.” He pushed his fingers up and Sirius shivered, knees jerking.

“Je veux—” His plea was suddenly and horribly cut off by what could only be described as a screech.

Remus pulled back in an instant, keeping one hand on Sirius’ hip. “Did I hurt you?”

“Jesus Christ, was that a rat?” he sputtered.

Ice water drenched Remus’ insides. “A what.”

Sirius scrambled to sit up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes as he stared at the corner of their bedroom, squinting slightly in the darkness. “I thought…”

“Baby.” Remus could feel the tremor in his voice. “Is there a rat in our room right now?”

They waited in silence for a few more pounding heartbeats before Sirius sighed in relief. “Nope, sorry, that was my shoe. The lace looked like a tail. Woah, are you okay? You look pale.”

“Uh-uh,” Remus managed, sitting back with a slow exhale. His heart receded from his ears to his throat. “Quick question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you need glasses?”

“No, I have 20/20 vision.” He had the nerve to look confused. “Why?”

Remus stared at him, then shook his head. “No reason.”

Remus could feel Sirius’ heart hammering under his palm, growing steadily slower with each deep breath. He stroked his hair out of his eyes, feeling joy bubble up when a foggy silver gaze met his own. “Hey, you,” he said quietly as he rubbed slow circles on Sirius’ chest. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Sirius’ smile was lopsided and sappy and oh-so-perfect; he bent down for a soft kiss and felt him melt under his mouth. When Remus pulled away, Sirius let out a sigh and snuggled up against his side. “Tu es si beau,” he mumbled, still a little clumsy with his words. “Si beau. Et mignon. Je ne sais pas.”

“D’accord,” Remus said, kissing his forehead, then each of his cheeks.

Sirius suddenly lit up and he touched Remus’ knee. “Pretty! C’est le mot. Je n’aime pas l’anglais.”

“I’m pretty?”

“Mhmm. Like—mmm, starts with a b. Du beurre, but candy.”

Remus bit his kiss-swollen lip in thought. “Butterscotch?”

“Oui.” Sirius nodded decisively and closed his eyes, apparently uncaring of Remus’ vibrant blush or galloping pulse. “Butterscotch. Je t’aime.”

“I love you, too, you muppet.”

As much as Remus loved being railed within an inch of his life, there was something to be said for slow, easy afternoons when the sun was high and they had absolutely nothing to do. Sirius’ hands ran from his hips to his ribs in smooth lines; Remus basked in the feeling and tilted his head when Sirius rocked upward to meet his rhythm.

“This is perfect,” he said, stretching one arm up to brace against the headboard. It was far easier to support himself—and last longer—since he had started working out like the rest of the team. White sparked at the corner of his vision. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“There?” Sirius rolled his hips again and Remus felt his dick throb. “Alright, I’ve got you.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere today.”

“Non, not even—hang on.” Sirius paused and frowned slightly. “Are your arms bigger than mine?”

“What?” Remus laughed.

“Gimme.” Sirius pulled his arm down and he nearly fell over with it, but caught himself at the last second. “Flex.”

“Why?”

“Because your arms are bigger than mine! That’s so not fair.”

Remus snorted, but obliged. Sirius scrutinized him for a solid ten seconds. “I can assure you that your arms are bigger, baby.”

“Hmm.” Sirius nodded and settled onto his back again. “Yeah, I think so. That was close.”

“Would it be such a bad thing if my arms were bigger than yours?” he asked as he began to move again, feeling Sirius’ harden in him. “I thought you liked that I’m stronger now.”

“I do like it, but you already have better back muscles. I can’t let you win that easy.”

VII

Does it count as enemies-to-lovers sex if you’re already engaged? Remus thought as he grabbed a handful of Sirius’ ass and squeezed, pulling a moan from his perfect lips. Because this feels firmly in the enemies territory.

“Are you going to stop saying it?” he asked, struck breathless as Sirius dropped to his elbows and put his face in the pillows.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he groaned, jolting as Remus pressed a hand against his lower belly.

“Where am I from?”

“Wis—Wisconsin.”

“And not…?”

“Fuck me—Minnesota.”

“Thank you.” He slowed his pace by a degree and littered the backs of Sirius’ shoulders and neck with kisses, allowing him to set the rhythm for a moment. “Your accent sounds so pretty right now.”

“So does yours.”

Remus paused in surprise. “It does?”

He sensed his mistake an instant before he saw the grin curling at Sirius’ mouth. “Oh, you betcha.”

And we’re back to enemies. “Where am I from?”

Sirius fell silent as he picked up speed and gripped his hips.

“Where, Sirius?”

“Wisconsin, fucking hell!” He flipped his hair over his shoulder for a second to glare, though the effect was ruined by the clear arousal on his face. “For someone who’s so—merde—laid-back, you’re awfully riled up about this.”

“Look, not all of us can sound like we’re dirty-talking while reciting a grocery list. I can’t let you roast me for that without repercussions.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ voice wobbled. “Oh, oh, oh—”

“Apologize for making fun of me, and I’ll touch you.”

“I’m s—oh.” Sirius’ fingers clenched in the sheets. “Oh, jeez!”

Remus’ mouth fell open. He sat back on his heels in utter shock as his addled brain tried to catch up to the rest of his body. Sirius’ shoulders weren’t shaking from how close he was to tipping over the edge, but from laughter. “Did you just…?”

Sirius flopped onto his back with a smug little smile on his face, still clearly mussed from a roll in the sack but far too aware for it to have been a slip of the tongue. “Oops.”

“You…”

“Oh, no, not the puppy eyes,” he laughed, dragging Remus down to lay on his chest. “I really do think your accent is cute.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“It was kind of funny, though,” he snickered.

Remus socked him lightly on the arm. “We’ll see if you ever get in my pants again.”

“I will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you love me.” He planted a kiss to his lips, nibbling at the bottom one until the frown disappeared. “Even when I make fun of you.”

“You’re mean,” Remus informed him as he kissed the muscle of his shoulder. “And cruel, and completely unappreciative of the Midwest. You don’t even love me.”

“I’m only in it for the accent,” Sirius agreed.

It was another twenty minutes until they finally got off. Remus spent the vast, vast majority of that time drowning in kisses from his deeply apologetic fiancé, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #18+

162 notes · View notes

wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

intoxicated.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x f!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1738

remarks: awful writing that i needed to get out of my system because god the idea is cute but the execution is a mess

The sudden knocking at your front door startles you from your slumber.

Awake but still groggy with sleep, you take a moment to peek at the clock hanging on the wall - it’s already one in the morning. You must have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Kyoujurou to return home, the movie that you’d left playing on the television has been replaced by a list of credits rolling endlessly. Just as you’re about to let out another yawn, the knocking at the door resumes again, causing you to jump.

“Who is it?” You call, a little cautiously. It’s not like Kyoujurou to knock before he enters. If he were trying to announce his return home, it would more likely come in the form of a lively ‘I’m home, darling!’ or a surprise attack of smothering kisses and hugs. Not to mention how late at night it is… Slightly worried now, you reach for the heavy umbrella stand in the corner of the living room cautiously...

“Yo, open up before I leave your husband in the corridor!” To your surprise, the voice that answers your question is an unexpected but familiar one, dispelling any fear you have. You hurry to unlock the door, and once it swings open, Uzui Tengen’s massive frame fills the doorway of your apartment, a large shape slung over one of his broad shoulders. Bemused at this strange sight at your doorstep so late into the night, you squint a bit at the baggage Tengen is carrying before your eyes widen.

“Kyoujurou!”

“Right, where do you want me to drop off this sad sack of potatoes?” Without further explanation Tengen marches into your house, Kyoujurou still hoisted over his shoulder. Still at a loss to what’s going on, you gesture at the couch that you had been asleep on just a few moments prior, and Tengen proceeds to dump his colleague onto it unceremoniously. The two of you watch as Kyoujurou lets out a grumble at the sudden rough handling, fidgeting a bit on the couch before he falls still once more, eyes firmly shut. There’s a telltale crimson flush on his cheeks.

You turn to Tengen, who’s adjusting his jeweled headband with a hand and checking his hair in your mirror. “He’s completely drunk, isn’t he?”

Kyoujurou isn’t the type to drink, much less get inebriated to this extent. After growing up with a rather negative impression of alcohol, Kyoujurou strictly limits his own intake of it - never more than one or two glasses, and only during special occasions such as anniversaries or weddings. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Kyoujurou imbibing enough alcohol to get this intoxicated.

Your husband’s friend and colleague only shrugs, looking totally unrepentant with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, it was results’ day for the academy today, and it turns out that not a single student failed history.” Surprised, you look down at Kyoujurou again. He’d been working so hard throughout the revision period, coming home later than usual and even skipping meals on occasion to tutor weaker students. Although Kyoujurou always claims that it’s not hard on him, you’re glad that his efforts have paid off so wonderfully. “So the teachers decided to hit the bar to celebrate, and at one point he mistook Shinazugawa’s vodka for water… yeah. Your husband really has no alcohol tolerance at all.”

You laugh a little, sitting next to Kyoujurou and resting the back of your hand on his cheek. “Well, you’re not wrong. Thanks for bringing him back, Tengen.” At your touch, Kyoujurou makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat, hands clasping yours and pressing it tighter against his cheek. With how warm he is, your hand probably feels like a refreshing ice pack to him. Tengen only makes a gagging noise.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves it off casually, sticking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before he turns to leave. “It’s getting late, so I better get back to my own family before they start worrying. I’ll lock the door on the way out, so you can just focus on taking care of that guy over there. See ya.”

You wave to him on his way out, and when the door clicks shut behind him, you look back at Kyoujurou, eyes gentle. His hair has come unbound (probably due to Tengen’s rough handling), a crimson and gold mess strewn over the couch. His normally pressed white shirt is wrinkled. With a faint smile, you shake your head before you reach for his tie, intending on undoing it so that you can put him to bed.

The second your fingers touch the knot of his tie, however, a pair of strong hands wrap around yours, stopping you in your tracks. Surprised, you look up at Kyoujurou, realising that his eyes have opened a crack as he looks blearily at you. “Ah, you’re awake?”

“M’ sorry but…” his words come out slightly slurred, and you have to strain your ears to make out what he’s saying. “But I'm… already married…”

You blink at him, momentarily amused. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” The volume of his declaration almost makes you jump, and you hurry to shush him before he can wake up all of the neighbours, hands pressed over his mouth. “So…” he waves a finger in front of your face wildly, a big frown on his lips. “No… funny business… Okay?”

So this is what your husband is like when he’s drunk. Now that you’ve been made privy to such knowledge, you can’t help but think that you should get him drunk more often. He’s cute. “Okay, no funny business,” you agree, removing your hands from his tie and placing them in your lap, although all you want to do is run your fingers through his hair and kiss the man silly. “How about I call your wife to come get you, then?”

Kyoujurou shakes his head quickly, orange and gold strands flying about. “No, no, no, don’t… she’s probably… sleeping by now.” He waves at the clock with a clumsy hand before sagging back onto the couch with a groan. “Don’t wanna disturb.”

A smile touches the corner of your lips. Really, you’ll have to make up for all the times you’ve wanted to kiss him now tomorrow morning. “You must love your wife very much, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Another shouted declaration, and you hurry to muffle him with a pillow to the face. “Very much so! More than anything else! I- hmpgf mhph hmm…”

A small burst of laughter escapes you before you can stop it, and you have to cover your mouth with your hands to suppress your laughter. The pillow you had been holding earlier falls between the two of you. Kyoujurou looks taken aback, confused, then he pouts, almost childishly. “It’s true!” Kyoujurou insists, mistaking your laughter for disbelief. Holding up his left hand, Kyoujurou gestures at his ring finger energetically. “Look!”

You don’t need to look to know that his silver wedding band will be sitting there snugly, never having been taken off since your wedding day. “Wow, what a coincidence,” you say, deciding to humour him. Holding up your own left hand, you put your hands side to side by comparison. Your wedding bands shine in the dim light of the room next to each other. “Look, we match.”

Kyoujurou squints at the bands for a moment, before he turns his head to study your face. Then his expression suddenly lights up, a gigantic smile illuminating his face. “Darling!” The hug that he gives you nearly knocks you off the couch, the tips of his hair tickling your nose as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Drunk as he is, Kyoujurou’s hugs always make you feel the same way - loved, warm and protected.

“You silly oaf, I can’t believe you didn’t recognise me.” With a laugh, you reach up to ruffle his hair before you pull him to his feet, guiding him towards the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get you changed and tucked into bed.”

Kyoujurou whines, nuzzling the top of your head and both arms wrapped securely around your waist. “But I wanna keep hugging you,” he complains, then lets out a little yelp when you swat his ass firmly.

“Be a good boy and get changed first, then maybe I’ll cuddle you in bed.” With a pout, Kyoujurou loosens his embrace just enough for you to take a step back. Reaching up, you focus on undoing the knot of his tie, tossing it to the side before moving to undo the buttons of his work shirt. “This would be so much easier if you’d help me out, you know,” you say lightly to tease him, glancing up at him to see what he’s up to. To your surprise, Kyoujurou is watching you seriously with a strange intensity to his gaze. It’s not a look you see on him often. “Kyoujurou?”

Without a word, Kyoujurou leans forward abruptly - with no time to react, the next thing you feel is a pair of lips landing on yours gently. Taken by surprise, you can only stand still with your fingers lingering on the buttons of his shirt as Kyoujurou captures your mouth in a warm kiss. The long fingers cupping your jaw are gentle, as though you’re a precious thing that he can’t afford to break.

After a few seconds, Kyoujurou slowly pulls away, and when you finally look up, he’s grinning brightly at you once more. “Just wanted to do that!” Kyoujurou laughs, before he turns and flops onto the mattress, half unbuttoned shirt still clinging to his broad frame. Stunned by the mood swings that the alcohol has brought on, you stare at him before you shake your head and join him on the bed, giving up on your original goal of getting him undressed.

“You’re going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning,” you whisper as you tuck Kyoujurou into bed. Kyoujurou only smiles up at you, reaching out to take you into his arms and pulling you firmly into his chest.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow!” He laughs, pressing your cheek against his. With a sigh, you pull the blankets over the two of you, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

“My problem for tomorrow, you mean.”

Still, you wouldn’t mind him getting drunk more often, you think as you fall asleep in his embrace.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny #kny kyojuro

391 notes · View notes

justkending · 3 years

Text

The Number One Rule. Chapter 18.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 3100+

Chapter Eighteen:

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Steve chuckled, bringing his mug to his lips as his sister walked in with a sleep ridden face. She gave him the silent bird before moving to the coffee pot. “I see your morning self hasn’t changed.”

“What are you still doing here? I thought you would have left for work by now?” Y/N asked with a tired voice as she walked to the fridge for creamer.

He had ended up staying the night and sleeping in his old room that had been transferred into the guest bed. Him and his sister had been up late talking and catching up.

“Eh, I’m going in a few hours later since I’ve been doing overtime recently,” Steve shrugged, leaning back and watching her sit across from him. She was wearing a giant T-shirt and some old pajama pants that she tiredly tried to straighten from their disheveled state. “What’s your excuse for not being ready for work?”

“I don’t have to be there until 9 today,” she answered with her eyes closed.

There was a comfortable silence as the two sipped on their coffee and Steve read the newspaper. Looking over he saw her practically falling back asleep in her seat.

“I guess I need to talk to Bucky soon…” He spoke up. Her eyes opened at that and she turned to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean now that I know the case, and now that I know you’re both happy, I don’t have a right to be a jackass anymore I guess,” he shrugged with a smirk.

“I’m glad you came to terms that you were a jackass,” she chuckled, punching his arm playfully. “We’ve been waiting a few years on that one.”

“Hey, I can call myself a jackass, but you watch yourself,” he warned in a light manner.

“Sure thing… Jackass,” she mumbled with a smile. Before he could start an argument, she diverted the conversation. “So, should I warn him, or-?”

“I don’t care. We have different shifts today, so I’ll see him tonight probably and talk to him.”

“Ok, then I’ll let you do the talking. I would warn him yourself though. He’s been a nervous wreck around this topic with you. Anytime he thinks about how we’ve hurt you, he gets upset and really anxious,” she explained more seriously.

“I mean, I don’t blame him. This was a shitty kind of situation to go through, but mom was right. Neither side of the problem was handled well,” Steve sighed. “I’ll text him before.”

“Good,” Y/N nodded. “Want me to come?”

“No, I think we need to talk ourselves,” Steve sighed. “If you know what I mean.”

“I get it,” she nodded standing and grabbing her mug. “Well, I’m going to get ready for work. Mind if I come over tonight though? You know, when the coast is clear? Maybe we can all have a movie night like back in the day! Becca and Sam are invited too,” she pointed to him.

“Sounds like a plan. You’re paying for pizza though. Since you have an adult job now, it’s only fair,” Steve said with raised eyebrows.

“Hey, I-”

“You owe me,” he cut her off.

She glared at him for using the given past situation as a way to get free food.

“That’s low, big bro,” she deadpanned.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” he scoffed with a smile, going back to the paper in front of him.

“Touche,” she nodded with a pursed lip. “At least text me when I can head over, so I don’t interrupt you guys' bromance session.”

“Shut up,” he groaned as she left the room.

________

Once Y/N got to work, a few hours into her shift, she got a call from Bucky.

“Hey, B,” she smiled through the phone as she went through the loads of papers in her hands.

“Hey sweetheart,” Bucky replied just as sweetly. “Guess who texted me today?”

“Hmm, Barack Obama?” Y/N responded. “Wait, no! Michelle Obama.”

“Haha, very close, but no,” he chuckled. “You’re brother reached out.”

“Is that so?” Y/N faked surprise.

“I’m guessing you guys' conversation last night went well considering your chipper mood?” he questioned. “Or they went horribly wrong and you’re just a really good actress.”

“We all know I can’t act even if my life depended on it,” she laughed, changing the phone to her other ear as she wrote some notes on a paper.

“It’s true. You’re a horrible liar,” Bucky confirmed.

“I’m not even going to argue it no matter how much I want to,” she shrugged. “But I would say things went well. I mean we may or may not have gotten into a wrestling match on the front lawn, and mom might as well have dragged us by the ears inside to have a civil conversation, but besides that…”

“Oh God, Y/N… What the hell happened?”

She just knew he was pitching the bridge of his nose on the other end.

“Nothing too crazy. It’s just sibling fighting,” she waved off.

“At least tell me you gave him a chance. You didn’t beat his ass too much, hopefully. You know we’re trying to win him over, not push him further away, right?” Bucky had a smile in his voice, clearly just joking around.

“You know? Kids’ gotten stronger since middle school,” she noted.

“I would hope so. He fought in a war and chases bad guys for a living. Can’t have scrawny middle school Steve doing that kind of stuff. He’d get a nose bleed just looking at the wrong guy.”

The two laughed for a little reminiscing at little Steve before he bulked up in high school. But after some joking, Bucky brought the conversation back where he started.

“But in all honesty, I shouldn’t be too worried about tonight?” he asked. The nerves in his voice were clear to Y/N.

“No, Bumble Bee. We talked it out, screamed it out, and fought it out. And in doing so, we had a good conversation. Thank Sarah Rogers for keeping us on track and not letting us walk away until it was resolved,” she assured, putting his mind at rest.

“Ok, good…” Bucky sighed on the other end. A moment of silence went by as if he was trying to process it.

“Hey, I know you guys still need to talk, but I do want you to know that it’ll be all ok in the end. Don’t get too worked up about it,” Y/N said softly. “26 years of being best pals can’t be ruined by this little bump. You said it yourself.”

Bucky let out a breath and nodded. “You’re right. It… It’s just, I hate that he found out how he did, and…” he paused. “It just kinda sucked seeing him that upset.”

“I get it,” Y/N nodded on her end. “But hey,” she added. “We’ll all be ok. Truly.”

“I trust you, doll,” he grinned. There was some distant talking on the phone and Bucky humming. “Hey, I have to go. Boss needs me for something. Call you later?”

“For sure. Have a good day, and let me know if you need anything!”

“Right back at you. Love you, sweetheart,” he slipped out the last part unconsciously.

There was a moment of silence as the two were stunned. Neither had said the “L” word yet… At least not to each other…

“Uh,” Bucky stuttered out. “I-I-...”

“Buck-,” Y/N started in just as much shock.

Another round of someone shouting on the other line that wasn’t Bucky came through through the phone.

“I have to go! Talk to you later,” Bucky shouted into the phone.

Before she could say anything else, the line ended and she slowly pulled back the phone seeing her lock screen blank. No words came out after that.

She just stared at the screen where a picture of her Bucky, Becca, and Steve all were embedded in a bear hug together. An old picture, but one that she always loved and cherished with a group of her favorite humans.

She also loved it because even though it was before Bucky and her had become an item, they were squished against each other. Bucky was smiling wide and caught in a laugh as he looked down at her, catching her from stumbling to the ground, and she was laughing as she gripped his arm to find her balance. Steve and Becca laughing on the side at her clumsy self, and the fact someone was always having to help her stay on two feet. Bucky having always been one of those top people in her life.

She smiled down at the memory and couldn’t help but feel those little flutters move from her stomach to her chest and eventually make her cheeks heat up.

_________________

Now he had two things to freak out about. One being Steve and his talk tonight. Yes, he knew he didn’t really need to after Y/N’s reassurance that things would be fine, but still. It was a strange conversation to have with your best friend.

“Sorry I fell in love with your sister and hid it from you. My best friend of over a quarter of a decade. Not to mention you found out from me coming out of her room half naked after you thought she was home alone...”

Yeah, that was going to be weird no matter how ok they were now…

Then you add in, he just casually told Y/N that he loved her before hanging up the phone. He didn’t mean to. It just felt so natural in the moment!

He wanted to make the first time he said it special, not just by accident…

God, his heart was racing and now he had four hours left of his work day to let those things just stir around in his head. Great. Maybe that 3rd cup of coffee wasn’t that great of an idea.

_______________

“So, everything’s good with you guys?” Sam asked after Steve let him in on everything.

“Yeah. I mean Buck and I still need to talk it out, but… I don’t know. I can’t be mad if they’re both happy at the end of the day. Happiest I’ve seen either of them in a while, if I’m being honest,” Steve shrugged with a small smile.

“See, I knew that’d be the case at the end of the day. I tried telling Bucky that,” Sam shook his head as he finished up the dishes. “And sorry man about not saying anything. I didn’t think it was my place to,” he apologized.

“No, I get it. This was their own thing. You were just being a good friend to Bucky and letting him figure this out himself,” Steve waved.

“He’ll be home in a little. You worried?” Sam asked, washing his hands off.

“No, if anyone’s nervous it’ll be Bucky. Y/N and I had a really good talk last night. No matter how upset I was before, I now know where they were coming from,” Steve sighed. “Did I agree with it? No, but we all have different ways we would go about things.”

“True facts,” Sam smiled. “Well, I’ll hoard myself in my room for a while until the coast is clear. Let me know if you guys need anything, ok?”

“Got it. Oh, and Y/N said she was going to come over after with pizza for a movie night, if you want to join,” Steve pointed out moving to the couch.

“I’m here for it,” Sam nodded, going down the hall to his room. “Call me when all is resolved.”

Steve nodded and plopped down on the couch skimming through the channels as he waited for Bucky. About 15 minutes later, he heard the lock turn and quietly the brunette made his way in with caution.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, turning from the end of the couch.

“Hey,” Bucky said with a soft smile as he put his things by the door.

These were the first words they had spoken in over 2 weeks. They hadn’t talked since the whole fight in the backyard.

“How was work?” Steve asked, making small talk.

“Nothing too crazy today,” Bucky shrugged, walking to the back of the couch with his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Lillian asked about you again.”

“From accounting?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Only Lillian I know that’s obsessed with you,” Bucky laughed lightly.

“God, I’m not ready for that…” Steve returned the chuckle.

It got quiet after that. Not awkward, but not comfortable either.

“So…”

“Listen, Bucky,” Steve sitting back in his chair running a hand across his face. “I’m sorry, I punched you after-”

“Don’t be. I deserved it,” Bucky waved him off, coming around the couch slowly to sit on the opposite end.

“Ok, yeah. You’re right,” Steve nodded with another small laugh. Again another pregnant pause. “I gotta know. Why didn’t you just tell me, Buck?”

He took in a deep breath before answering. “I’m sure Y/N told you, but we didn’t want things to have a bad falling out and it be awkward for everyone else-.”

“No, not that. Why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t going to do it from the start?” Steve interrupted.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Y/N said that you guys went back and forth on not going through with this because you didn’t want to hurt me. I mean, maybe that’s not that big of a deal, but it changes things on my end some,” Steve explained. Bucky just sent him a blank stare. “What I mean is, when I first figured everything out, I was hurt because I thought you didn’t even consider me in your decisions. I know, it sounds selfish, but-”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re a part of the equation to some extent. Just like Becca is. But surprisingly Becca was excited and not freaked out about her best friend dating her big brother. It’s a little different being the big brother in the situation though,” he said softly. “It’s not selfish though Steve. If the roles were reversed and say you and Becca dated, I would hope you considered my feelings in the matter too.”

Steve was glad that he understood what he was getting at. He was worried it wouldn’t make sense or make him look like he thought the whole thing revolved around him.

“Yeah…” Steve paused. “But you didn’t say anything about that when we did get in that fight. Why?”

“I don’t know… I guess I just wanted you to understand my feelings for her more than anything. I needed you to know that she wasn’t just some girl I was hoping to hook up with at some point.”

“I know you would never do that Buck. No matter how upset I was, I still don’t think that low of you,” Steve sighed. “And about that… I’m sorry I said you don’t deserve her… That was an extremely hard hit to the gut.”

“You were looking out for her,” Bucky said with pursed lips, but the pain from the past comment was clear. It didn’t feel good having your best friend who's been through thick and thin with you tell you weren’t worth something.

“Yes, but that was a low blow and I said it out of hurt feelings. I was hurt, so I wanted you to be just as hurt. That wasn’t fair,” Steve concluded. “If there is anyone in this world that I trust to take care of Y/N just as much as me, it’s you Buck. I was just blinded by anger.”

“Understandably,” Bucky nodded, looking back at his friend a little less troubled.

“Understandably,” Steve agreed. They stared at each other silently communicating. “I’m sorry.”

“If anyone is sorry, it’s me Steve,” Bucky shook his head running a hand down his thigh still slightly anxious.

“How about we both agree that we didn’t handle this situation the best way,” Steve smiled. “I should have seen how happy you two were and not second guess how it happened. I shouldn’t have made it about me when you both clearly are what the other needs.”

“Steve-”

“Truly. You guys have been glowing the last two months with complete and utter happiness and I was so oblivious to pick up on it. I feel like a shitty brother and best friend.”

“You’re not a shitty brother or best friend. Not in the least,” Bucky said scooting to the edge of the couch. “You know that.”

“Y/N tell you we got in a fight on the lawn yesterday?” Steve asked with a small smirk.

Bucky chuckled. “Yes. Said your mom about beat your asses out there too.”

“All because I was too stubborn to talk it out,” Steve shook his head while he threw it back on the back of the couch.

“Eh, you said it yourself. We all didn’t handle this situation well,” Bucky chuckled. “She kicked your ass, didn’t she?” he said after a second.

“Wouldn’t say that, but she must have worked out over seas because I couldn’t pin her like I used to. She was giving me a pretty decent fight,” Steve laughed loudly.

“God, I would pay money to have someone get that on tape,” Bucky laughed with him.

The two soaking up the now comfortable atmosphere.

“So we’re ok, right?” Steve asked. “Leave all out petty, stubborn, and stupid mistakes in the past?”

“I’m fine with that if you are,” Bucky nodded.

“Good. I’ve missed having my best friend around. I was getting tired of ignoring you,” Steve sighed, patting Bucky’s back.

“You gave me good practice with your stubbornness for Y/N. Not that I haven’t been practicing with you both my whole life, but damn you guys are too bull-headed monsters.”

“We feed off each other's energy,” Steve shrugged with a smirk.

“I know, it’s exhausting, yet entertaining all at the same time,” Bucky smiled as he moved his head side to side.

A knock sounded at the door and they both turned toward the wooden panel.

“Speaking of the devil,” Steve smiled standing up.

Bucky froze.

Shit. One anxiety had been cured now, but he had almost forgotten about his second one...

(Tags for this series will be closing soon as it is getting pretty full, please send an ask if you want to be added:)

I’ll post on whatever chapter I decided to close it down here.

The Number One Rule (TNOR) Taglist:

@shadowolf993 @hello-i-am-daydreaming @jessyballet @emmabarnes @kmuir1 @beautifulrare4leafclover @thefallenbibliophilequote @l0ve-0f-my-life @shawnie--jo–jo @asoftie4bucky @katiaw2 @sheeple @sznri @bxtchboy69 @taliarosej00 @bakugouswh0r3 @stopjustlovethemcu @babemendesxz @jenniereiji @taliarosej00 @loveyou5everr @natdrunk @im-a-light-child @stucky-my-ship @fairykimseok

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness

@bellamy-barnes

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses

#bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader au #bucky barnes x reader au series #bucky barnes x y/n rogers #bucky barnes x y/n rogers au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #justkending #justkending series #justkending marvel #marvel #marvel au #marvel au fanfic

273 notes · View notes

sonicstalker123 · 2 years

Text

Fuyuhiko x Clumsy!Reader who wonders off at a park

CW: very creepy person, mention of a bug (butterfly specifically), mentions of bruises, potential angst

It was just a normal day, walking around the island. S/O and Fuyuhiko are on a date and they make their way to a park.

“Hey Fuyu, we made it!” They giggle to themself and they find some swings.

“H-Hey! S/O..! O-Only you can call me that! When we’re together either in your cottage or mine! P-Peko’s too, actually… But I guess I can make an exception for today, because it’s the two of us.” Fuyuhiko states, while blushing like crazy.

“Huh? I thought Peko was going to be accompanying us today.” S/O states, confused.

“Well, Chiyaki and Mahiru invited all of the girls to hang out at the beach, and Peko happily went along and well, I figured that this was the perfect time to just… spend some time together. Ya know… just the two of us.”

S/O smiles and starts to happy cry.

Fuyuhiko then notices them crying.

Oh boy is he about to freak out

“Oh fuck! S/O, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

S/O wipes their happy tears from their face. “Quite the opposite, Fuyu. What you said was so cute, it just made me so happy I started crying happy tears..!”

They kiss the Ultimate Yakuza on the cheek.

Fuyuhiko is shocked, and also blushes and covers his face. “Y-Ya know…. you can be pretty cute/handsome/charming too.”

S/O giggles to themself. “Thank you, love. Can I wander around for a bit on my own? I promise I will keep in touch so you know that my clumsy ass is alright.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t go getting yourself hurt or anything, S/O. You can get pretty clumsy at times. Yesterday, you tripped on your way to the cafeteria and I had to keep telling myself not to kick Hiyoko’s ass, which was extremely difficult.”

“Yay!!!” They exclaim and give Fuyuhiko a big hug before leaving to go wander around the area.

They take their phone out and take some pretty pictures of trees, butterflies and stuff like that. “I can’t wait to show these to Mahiru and Fuyuhiko!”

They giggle to themself and get out their phone

‘FUYUHIKO GUESS WHAT’ SEND.

‘? What? You good? What’s up?’ SEND.

‘I FOUND CUTE ASS BUTTERFLIES AROUND HERE, HERE IS A PICTURE’ They add a picture of a Blue Morpho Butterfly. SEND.

‘Ha, that’s a really good picture. I’m sure Mahiru and Peko would love to see it.’ SEND.

‘Ha, yeah, I hope they do 👉🏻👈🏻’ SEND.

(Blue Morpho butterflies are one of my favorite butterflies)

A creepy person then sees S/O giggling to themself and walks up to them.

“My my, ain’t you a cutie pie.” The creep says while slowly walking up to them.

‘Fuyu I need your help, somebod y is wal king u p to me’ their hands shaking. SEND.

‘S/O? Are you trying to say that somebody is walking towards you? Where are you??’ SEND.

Fuyuhiko waits a little bit for their response. Five minutes later, he starts to get worried. “They usually immediately respond back…That’s really fucking odd.” He then proceeds to call them.

Time to switch to S/O

S/O’s ringtone goes off but they can’t hear it because they’re focusing on this creepy guy, walking towards them.

“What’re you doing here, all by yourself?” He asks.

S/O doesn’t say a word and slowly backs up.

Creep then starts to walk a little faster towards them. He grabs their arm rather tightly.

S/O gasps and looks at them, absolutely horror-struck like a deer that has stopped in it’s tracks.

Creep then looks down at S/O with a perverted grin.

Time to switch to Fuyuhiko

Fuyuhiko continues to run towards the trees and sees a man walking towards his partner. At least he thinks it looks like his partner. Upon closer inspection, it’s actually them. Fuyuhiko gasps.

He looks at his S/O and then at the Creep. Fuyuhiko’s grabs Creep’s collar of his shirt, making Creep release S/O’s arm and looks at him dead in the eye.

“Who in the ever loving fuck are you! If you made the grand mistake of mess with my S/O, you have ANOTHER FUCKING THING COMING. You don’t even WANT to know what would happened if you hurt them in any way.”

Fuyuhiko then notices the purple mark on S/O’s arm and gives Creep a death glare.

“You have made a GRAVE mistake. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM? I am Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the heir to the Kuzuryuu Clan! YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG FUCKING PERSON.”

Creep gasps and Fuyuhiko releases his grasp only to kick him in the knees, chest and… other places.

“H-How c-can you prove that I did something to this person????” Creep asks, panicking.

“Dumbass, look at the fucking bruise they have on their arm. They didn’t have that until I showed up. You had a tight fucking grasp on their arm!”

S/O looks at him and nods. “It really fucking hurt too! I couldn’t even move!!”

“That’s all the proof I need. You have guts, messing with me. If you fuck with them, you fuck with me.”

Fuyuhiko then proceeds to kick Creep right in the face. He then grabs Creep’s shirt once more.

“If I EVER have the displeasure of seeing your fucking face again, I will kill you. Do you hear me?!”

Creep then nods and runs away.

“S/O, you could’ve gotten yourself really hurt… or worse. I really worry about you when you’re alone like this. I worry about you because I care about you and I don’t want to see you in any pain. Please, just… be more careful when you’re on your own. When I’m with you, you can be as clumsy and stuff as much you want but seriously be more aware of your surroundings on your own. Okay..?”

S/O nods and Fuyuhiko embraces them gently. “I was scared deep down because…. He could’ve done something even worse to you.”

S/O inhales sharply from the pain and Fuyuhiko looks startled. “Oh shit, S/O, I didn’t even realize that the bruise was that large and I accidentally hurt you. I’m sorry.“

S/O smiles and shakes off the pain. “Thank you for saving me! … The bruise is really sensitive but I just gotta shake off the pain and not think about it. Can we go back home…? I’m kinda…”

Their stomach growls, making S/O embarrassed. Fuyuhiko chuckles to himself. “Hungry..? Yeah, me too. I bet that Teruteru is making something delicious. Let’s go back, S/O.”

The two smile and they go to the cafeteria.

#dr2 x reader #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu x reader #peko pekoyama #danganronpa fuyuhiko #danganronpa 2 #sdr2 mahiru

16 notes · View notes

levihantrash · 3 years

Text

Priorities

For Levihan week Aug 2021 Day 2 prompt: confessions

Also based on a cute ass tumblr prompt by @sanothebreadpup <3 hope you like it!!

Summary: It’s been a while since Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long. Erwin suggested going to Levi for advice on managing prioritises. Instead, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

note: no smut but lots of spicy poetic touching

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

Hange wanted to confess. It had been months since they knew that their best friend status with Levi could potentially be tweaked to include just a bit more romance, and they knew they had to be the one to take that step. As much as Levi was quick-witted on the battlefield, he wasn’t quite the risk-taker in ordinary settings. In fact, Hange figured Levi would sip tea beside them until he was greying and would probably be as content with the arrangement.

Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long.

Out-of-the-blue, though characteristically charismatic, Erwin gave the soldiers a pep-talk on how they need to know what to prioritise (i.e., humanity's victory).

Inspired, though the speech’s intended audience was clearly for new recruits, Hange tried to prioritise their tasks. Within a day, they got overwhelmed, the list being more of a reason for delay than for action. Moblit, well-meaning as always, tried to get Hange to focus on one at a time but that was unthinkable to them. One at a time meant that the confession would never happen. There was too much to research. Too much at stake. Too much for one inconsequential confession.

Unknowingly, Erwin saw Hange wringing their hands, muttering to themselves in the dining hall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t prioritise the important stuff,” Hange grumbled. Perking up at the mention of priorities, Erwin advised Hange to seek Levi’s guidance.

“Levi only does one thing at a time once he sets his heart on it.”

Eager for a chance encounter with someone they technically already hung out with on most days, Hange asked Levi for help. More accurately, in perhaps the most roundabout manner, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

“For research,” Hange said, almost convinced by their own performance.

“You can do that yourself,” Levi said reasonably.

While starting a task was horrendously difficult, Hange was not one to give up once they began on one.

“You’re the only one here who can bake.”

Eyes narrowed, arms folded, Levi was not buying the compliment. He had a pile of papers left to read. Hange’s whims could be settled by someone with more well-matched interests and time management.

“Go ask Petra.”

Hovering nearby with another paper for her captain to sign, Petra noticed Hauge's crestfallen face.

“It’s not about the baking being done but who Hange is doing the baking with,” Petra whispered, as discreetly as she could.

"I'm busy," Levi said, loud enough for Hange to hear, heedless of Petra’s input.

“Alright.” Hange sighed, internally fuming that they should’ve found a more legitimate excuse. Bluff out something like Erwin’s orders. Levi followed Erwin’s orders without question. Hange’s requests were dealt with more scepticism. Not that Hange had the best track record of requests.

In the end, Hange prepared the baking supplies, because even if titans couldn’t stomach cake, it was an experimental endeavour. Practically speaking, they could give some baked goods to the juniors. Maybe even gift some to Levi.

Stumbling into the kitchen with too many ingredients in hand, they found Levi leaning against the entrance looking positively sullen. Upon spotting Hange, his face morphed into a more acceptable, neutral expression, nodding towards them.

"I thought you were busy!"

Levi shrugged, grabbing some of the ingredients from their arms. "I was. Didn't you want to bake?"

“I guess?”

The sudden change of mind was too abrupt for Hange to wrap their head around. A hopeful glow had unfortunately begun growing in them. Levi was being exceptionally nice today. No doubt that he was usually nice. Just not will-bake-for-your-titans kind of nice.

"Erwin said that you are really good at prioritising tasks,” Hange said, slowly digging through the cabinets for the utensils.

"Huh. Let me guess—he wants you to learn from me."

Hange scratched their head absent-mindedly. "He did tell me to ask you."

"I'm not actually very good at sticking to a task,” Levi admitted, wondering where in hell Erwin got the idea that he was focused. If he were, the paperwork would have been submitted, instead of lying around, flapping aimlessly in the wind before Petra (and Oluo) offered their generous help. He refused—every time. Levi was simply good at keeping a blank face and reporting to Erwin that he needed more time, which Erwin must have mistaken as a sign of seriousness than a sign of procrastination.

“You are! You finished work before coming have, didn't you?”

Levi didn’t breathe out a word, silently pouring through the book of recipes.

"What do you want to bake?"

Hange didn’t mind his lack of response, pondering over his poor cover-up question. "Something easy. What about bread?"

"Bread isn’t easy."

Difficulties translated into the promise of adventure for Hange. Pumped up, Hange prodded at the picture of an unremarkable loaf of chocolate banana bread.

"Let's do it anyway!"

“Suit yourself.”

-----

The small touches were the ones that were hardest to ignore. Hange felt the accidental-deliberate brush of Levi’s elbow when he reached over to choose an ingredient. Other times, he guided their hand with the right amount of strength for stirring the batter. His fingers over their stirring hand were firm and reassuring.

“You’re stirring too fast,” Levi said patiently.

“You’re distracting me,” Hange replied half-heartedly.

“Oh, am I?” The fingers left Hange’s hand. Just as Hange was about to lament their moment of folly in allowing that to happen, the fingers reached out towards their face. Forcing in a breath, Hange felt Levi’s thumb rub out a chocolate stain at the side of their lip.

“How did the chocolate get there?” Levi murmured, more to himself than to them.

“I was snacking on some of the chocolate bits a while ago…” Hange said cheekily, licking the side of their lips only to realise that Levi’s thumb was still there. Their tongue brushed his finger, and in that contact, Hange was ready to collapse from self-generated sexual tension.

Though his eyes widened noticeably, Levi quickly resumed his blasé expression. Rubbing the rest of the stain out, he walked to the tap to wash his hands. There was some hesitation, before he hurriedly turned on the tap, letting the water run for two seconds over his hands before going back to his position next to Hange.

Unsure as to whether to be offended or pleased by the sight of Levi cleaning the evidence of their encounter with such carelessness, Hange busied themselves with breaking eggs and separating yolk. If it had been Levi with a finger lined with fudge, Hange would’ve licked it spotless. With permission, of course.

To pay him back in kind, Hange plotted their own routine of touch as well. The touches became bolder, starting innocently enough. From casually brushing away hair that was poking Levi’s eye, to going behind Levi who was busy slicing up bananas and placing both hands on the counter. Their arms were now on either side of him, conveniently taller than him so that their head could peer right over his shoulder. The cutting didn’t cease—it only got more rapid, the bananas becoming neat circles in a matter of seconds. Hange let out an impressed whistle, hands not leaving the counter.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Oh, am I?”

One drop of the knife, and a swift turn later, Levi found himself staring straight into Hange’s bright, beautiful, heavily eye-bagged orbs.

"Hange, do you know why I'm in the kitchen at 2am baking for some shit-brained monsters?"

“Titans don’t have—”

“Because I have priorities.” Levi interrupted, not allowing Hange to clarify what the physical anatomy of titan subjects entailed.

Hange blinked, maintaining an oblivious exterior. “Your priorities include titan research?”

“You know what I was going to say.”

“Somewhat. I want to hear you say it out loud, though.”

Grimacing, he concentrated his gaze on Hange’s collar instead. Skin flushed, collarbones peeking out mischievously. Bad idea.

“You little shit.”

Their laugh was quieter, milder than the ones they let out on other days. “My favourite little shit! So what are your priorities?”

“Wiping the blades. Cleaning the toilet. Dusting under the tables. Doing laundry. Having enough tea. Baking with a scientist who thinks—”

Hange pressed a gentle hand on his mouth. “I get it.”

“Which part do you get?” Levi asked, enjoying the fact that when he moved his lips, they grazed Hange’s palm. How would it be like to replace that hand with their mouth?

“That you like me.” Hange grinned, tugging Levi by the straps of his apron just a bit closer.

An unexpected flash of clumsiness made Levi knock down the bag of flour, spilling it onto the floor. The fall clouded up the vicinity in white dust. Gaining confidence with obscured vision, Hange held the back of Levi’s head, tracing his undercut, admiring how his immaculately combed hair had come undone. An attractively dishevelled mess. Hange was in no hurry. Yet.

Levi, in a spur of restlessness, looked up at Hange questioningly. Eyeing their faint smirk, he tilted his head sideways, watching carefully for any sign of reluctance. An impatient “are you going to kiss me or not” from Hange; a straightforward command was what he needed to hear. No time was wasted pulling Hange into an urgent, searing kiss. Backed against the counter, hands cupping Hange’s face, Levi devoured the sensation. The taste of sugar, fruit, flour, and chocolate clung onto the entwinement, as Hange breathily pressed up against him. Erwin had warned them both. Love in the military meant the threat of loss. The possibility of sorrow. As he felt the rumble of Hange’s satisfying groan beneath his lips sending an unprecedented warmth through his body, he was certain. He would have loved Hange whether he kissed them or not. Death would happen, whether or not Hange rubbed his waist in soothing, awe-inspiring strokes. Right now, he would die in absolute bliss.

To be honest, Hange would’ve been disappointed if they didn’t end up fucking, or at least, aggressively kissing eventually. Erwin’s advice was only a stronger reminder that Hange was never one to be conservative. They loved Levi, as a comrade, as a friend, as the person whom they would kill for, if it meant saving his life. Still, having Levi sneak a hand into the bareness of their back, sucking their neck with a hot tenderness that made their head spin, they knew that chastity and platonic hugging could not be the only option.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Hange said, peeling away his jacket.

“Couldn’t tell when the right time was,” Levi said, starting on the buttons of Hange’s shirt.

The door creaked open.

“This is your idea of asking Levi for help?” Erwin said, a thick eyebrow raised as he surveyed the mess.

With some willpower, he stopped unbuttoning Hange’s shirt. Lightly pushing Hange away, Levi straightened up, less than pleased with the interruption.

“Erwin, you better have something worthwhile to say if you—”

“I’ll clean this up.” Erwin, fully recovered from his shock, was beaming.

“Huh?”

“It’s about time,” Erwin said, with the proud sincerity of an unwitting matchmaker, gesturing towards the door.

“We owe you one, Erwin!” Hange waved at him on the way out, while Levi cast him a grateful, wary glance. With his hand was secure on their back, and Hange’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was no care for an audience. Only the smell of baked goods and unfinished business fuelled their steps towards a private space. A place where they would end up in each other’s arms—spent, sweaty, and deliriously at peace.

#levihanweek2021 #lhw2021 #levihan #levi x hange #day 2 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #aot #my writing #hanji zoe #prompt

49 notes · View notes

allisondraste · 3 years

Text

Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep On Living

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4019

Summary: It's only been two weeks since the Reaper War ended, and the Alliance is already trying to bury Shepard.

[Click Here for A03]

Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since the war ended, since that devastating flash of red light burst from the Citadel and bounced off every active relay in the galaxy, since the Reapers fell dead in space and the Normandy crash landed on some tropical little human colony world just on the edge of the Terminus Systems. It had just been two weeks, but the Alliance and the rest of the whole damn galaxy were already willing to declare Shepard dead. And to add insult to injury, they’d given Garrus the great honor and privilege of hanging her name up on a memorial wall in some trite ceremony to make the crew feel better.

“There isn’t anyone who could’ve been at the epicenter of that blast and survived,” Hackett had explained, far too matter-of-factly. “It’s time for us to move forward.”

“Shepard isn’t just anyone,” Garrus had replied, and then promptly told the admiral where to shove his plaque. It was not his finest moment.

Now, he sat in the mess hall, alone and staring down at the dextro-amino rations he’d barely touched. The bastardized version of some overly seasoned human dish would have been unappetizing even if he had an appetite. But he didn’t. Something about the person he loved being declared dead left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d only even tried to eat because Liara insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood for another well meant lecture about taking care of himself.

No longer willing to bother, he shoved the plate away from him with the back of his hand, and looked up in just enough time to catch Williams walk past him. She stopped, performed a proper about-face and marched up to his table.

“Hey,” Ash greeted him like she’d never spoken to him before in her life.

“Hey,” Garrus replied and watched as she shifted uncomfortably and darted her eyes around the entire room before meeting his gaze.

She motioned to an empty seat across the table from him. “Can I— I mean, do you want some company? You just look—”

“Like I’m one news vid about the ‘late’ Commander Shepard away from going postal?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah.”

Williams smirked and eased herself down onto the bench without waiting for him to agree to her company. “I was going to say ‘like shit,’ but that works too.”

He answered her dryly. “Gee. Thanks.”

There was a pause in conversation, then Ash tilted her head in that sympathetic way every human who knew him seemed to do since Earth. “Seriously though… how are you holding up?”

I’m not , Garrus thought, but the words didn’t make it to his mouth, just sarcasm.. “Didn’t realize you cared… or is this just one of those human things where you pretend to care for my benefit?”

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who pretends to do anything for anyone’s benefit, especially yours?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

“Listen, this is off the record but… Hackett had that mouthful coming.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m just glad it was you that said it and not me because, well, I like my job.”

If anyone had told Garrus that one day, he’d have a heart-to-heart with the human woman who’d spent their entire first mission together shooting daggers at him from across Normandy’s shuttle bay, he’d have said they were crazy. But there they were, raw from the absence of someone who meant so much to the both of them.

“It’s been two weeks,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “ Two. They haven’t even found her bod—“ he tried and failed to choke back the lump in his throat, but continued talking anyway, glancing up at her— “It’s too damn soon, Ash.”

“I know,” came her firm reply as she reached across the table. She hesitated for a split second, but then let her hand fall on top of his. Deep brown eyes welled up with tears that she tried to blink away. She let out a frustrated huff as one rolled down her cheek anyway, then cleared her throat. “ Damn. Pretend this isn’t happening.” “Pretend what isn’t happening, Williams?”

“Perfect,” she remarked, wiping her face with the heel of her free hand and laughing. “Kind of hard to believe it’s only been three years since we tracked down Saren. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“And look at us now, being mostly civil,” he said with a sigh, staring down at Ash’s hand. Alien as it was, it reminded him of Shepard’s, strong to be as small as it was, with too many fingers. He recalled the many times those fingers had traced the hard edges of his face, how that hand had fit so comfortably into his (after a few clumsy attempts, of course). He’d take another missile to the face to hold it again.

“You know, Shepard worked her ass off to convince me it’d be fine having aliens on board an Alliance vessel,” Ash observed playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You? Paranoid over a handful of non-humans? I’m shocked .”

“Nothing personal,” she explained,“Just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a station with a guy whose grandpa probably shot at mine during the War.”

“Hate to break it to you but—” he leaned back in his seat— “My grandfather was just a run of the mill C-Sec officer. All he would have done was write your grandfather a nasty citation. ‘Being human in Citadel space,’ used to be a finable offense.”

“God,” she said with another laugh, “Back then, I rolled my eyes and told Shepard I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. ‘You tell me to jump, I ask how high. You tell me to kiss a turian, I’ll ask which cheek.’”

“We don’t really have cheeks,” Garrus corrected, laughing when Ash shot him a pointed look, “But that’s beside the point. I’m guessing Shepard never followed through with that order.”

“No, she told me, and I quote, ‘Nobody’s going to be kissing any turians on this mission, Ash,’” she said in her best Shepard impression, then muttered, “Fucking liar.”

“Well, to her credit, I don’t think she planned on me being so… irresistable.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, ladykiller .”

There was another pause in conversation, and her expression fell. She looked down to where her hand still lay on his. “Back then, I just assumed you’d jump ship as soon as things got rocky, as soon as we— as Shepard — really needed you, but…” She trailed off, grip tightening around his hand. “You never let her down, not once. Not even when I—”

“You didn’t let her down, Ash,” he argued, sensing where she was headed, “She never thought that.”

“Yeah, well I do,” she snapped, words clipped, “I should have seen the signs that Cerberus had her pinned down, but I let my ego get in the way. I’m surprised she wanted anything to do with me after that.”

“You’re not the only one who has ever screwed up trying to do the right thing,” he reassured her, “Shepard, of all people, understood that.”

“That’s… you’re probably right,” she nodded and looked up at him, “Thanks. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Uh, sorry for what?”

“For ever believing you weren’t an important part of the crew,” she stated seriously, then smiled, “And for calling you birdbrain behind your back.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in amusement, and he gave her hand a few friendly pats. “No harm done,” he said, then paused for a beat, “Besides, you didn’t hear what I said behind your back.”

One of her eyebrows shot up. “You talked shit about me?”

“So much.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” shouted a familiar voice from across the mess, causing them both to snap their heads toward the sound. “Somebody get this heartwarming moment on camera.”

Ash stiffened, retracting her hand quickly and stuffing it under the table. “Joker.”

“Hey, Joker.” Garrus waved. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered, words pointed. “You know, aside from the soul-crushing agony of my girlfriend dying. ”

Garrus had spent enough time around humans to know that the Flight Lieutenant looked rough, even for someone who’d never cared about keeping up appearances. His eyes were red, the skin underneath dark enough that even the shadow cast from his hat couldn’t disguise the lack of sleep. He made his way unsteadily to the table and sat down next to Williams.

Garrus opened his mouth, preparing to speak, to express sympathy, but Joker cut him off. “And before you start with any of that ‘I understand how you feel’ crap— no you don’t. Everyone knows you can’t say Shepard’s dead until we’ve ID’d the body. Maybe not even then. She just keeps living… like a cockroach. ”

“You know you could just say, ‘I’m not doing so hot,” right?” Ash scolded him, but there was still a softness to her voice. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Yeah, but see… being an ass is way more my style.”

The table went completely quiet as Joker crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, tension palpable enough it might as well have had mass. Not one for tolerating awkward silences, Garrus ventured a question. “What the hell is a cockroach?”

Ash smiled, clearly thankful for the change in subject, and began to explain. “They’re these—“

“ Beetles ,” Joker cut her off, “Big, disgusting ones that are supposed to be able to survive extreme conditions other organics can’t.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus admitted with a shrug.

The pilot flinched and glared at him. “Wait. I called Shepard a disgusting beetle and you’re just okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I be,” he asked sarcastically, “It actually explains why she kept molting. ”

“You’re having fun. Stop it,” Joker whined, scowl deepening, “Stop having fun!”

Garrus laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. My cockroach is missing.”

Joking though he was, his words were honest, something Joker must have detected. His expression softened even as he puffed his chest out. He deflated immediately as another familiar voice called out, likely interrupting whatever barrage of barbs he’d prepared to hurl at Garrus. This time, it was Vega who strutted over to the table carrying an entire fifth of some sort of human liquor. Cortez trailed solemnly behind him, examining the rectangular objects in his hands.

“Yo, don’t tell me the party started without us,” shouted Vega, setting the alcohol down on the table with a loud clank , pointing a thumb back at Cortez, “Esteban here took forever polishing the name plaques.”

Garrus stiffened at the mention of the plaques, knowing full and well there had been one commissioned with Shepard’s name on it despite all his protests. Turned out, the Alliance brass didn’t give a damn about some loud mouth former C-Sec officer or his feelings after all. He just hoped none of the humans were able to read the pain in his expression— a hope that was in vain if the sympathetic glance Cortez gave him was any indication.

“What’s that for?” Ashley pointed to the bottle of amber liquid Vega sat on the table.

“What do you think,” Vega asked, as if his intentions should have been completely clear, “I’m going to pour one out for the commander.”

“All over the Normandy's floor?” She raised her brows at him.

“Nah.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “Just down the sink or somethin’.”

She picked the bottle up and examined the label more closely. “But…this is expensive stuff, James.”

“Don’t care,” came Vega’s indignant response, “It’s for Lola.”

Ashley gave him a solemn nod, seeming to understand whatever peculiar human tradition he was planning to perform. Satisfied, Vega turned his attention to Joker, snagging his cap, flipping it around, and placing it down on his head backwards. Joker cursed and grumbled, calling Vega a bully among other things, but Vega just smiled and walked over to Garrus, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Slowly, the rest of the crew began to filter in, each with their own expressions of concern. Traynor and Tali arrived together, deep in conversation if the emphatic hand gestures were any indication. They both quieted as they arrived at the table, Traynor frowning and bowing her head, whileTali approached and slid comfortably into the seat next to Garrus.

She looked down at the uneaten food and back up at him, giving him a nudge with her elbow and complaining. “You are wasting all of the good dextro rations.”

“Good? Oh, come on, we both know it’s garbage.”

“Well… yes, but it’s digestible garbage,” she said, holding a finger up to make her point. Her voice softened when she continued. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything the past few days.”

He sighed and looked down at the rations. “Yeah.”

Tali observed him for a second, eyes glowing behind her helmet. She then grabbed his plate and slid it toward him. “Eat up, Vakarian. Or else I will have to feed you myself… with a spoon I am pretending is the Normandy.”

Garrus let out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’ll work, Tali.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t heard my engine noises.” She laughed along with him for a few seconds, then grew quiet once again and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “The Alliance is going to feel very silly when Shepard gets back and they have to explain why they hung her name up on the wall and sold her hamster.”

“ If she makes it back this time.”

“She will,” Tali asserted, voice cracking, “She has to.”

It was Javik who entered next, voice booming in a debate with Liara, who had taken it upon herself to explain human customs for memorializing the dead. He shook his head and ignored her entirely, stating that if he wished for a history lesson, he would ask for one. He then snapped his many-eyed gaze to Garrus.

“You should not be saddened about Shepard’s fate, Garrus. She died with great honor.”

Liara let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in one of the empty seats at the next table over, bringing her hand to her face.

“What is it, asari?” Javik snapped, “Honor in death is something turians hold in high regard, is it not? This should be a great comfort to him.”

“Perhaps with time,” Liara explained,”But right now it is… insensitive.”

“It’s nothing my dad hasn’t already told me a dozen times,” Garrus stated flatly, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Weird that a fifty-thousand year-old Prothean reminded him of his dad. Then again, Castis Vakarian was as about as traditional as turians came, and they butted heads on almost every subject, including but not limited to: Garrus’ disregard for rules, his decision to leave C-Sec—twice, his “risk- and attention-seeking” behavior, and his “absurd infatuation with a human woman”. Their relationship had always been strained, to say the least. Still, he had always been there when Garrus needed him, and listened when it mattered. He was the first call Garrus made from the medbay after the Reapers were destroyed, when he realized Shepard might not be coming back.

He’d been sympathetic, but not even remotely comforting, not unlike Javik was at present. Garrus just didn’t have it in him to explain to either how little he cared about the honorable nature of her sacrifice, the high esteem the galaxy now held her in, or the way history would remember her. None of that mattered when she wasn’t at his side. How could he be proud, when all he felt was empty?

Once all parties arrived and settled in, the group spent time talking and sharing memories. The Alliance crew members all told stories about encounters with Admiral Anderson, how he more often felt like a parent than a commanding officer, and how his reputation was so much larger than his ego. Traynor did most of the talking about EDI, their friendship, and how seamlessly she’d fit into the crew, how easy it had been to forget she was an AI. Joker just pulled the bill of his cap down to cover his eyes. Then, the reminiscence moved to the commander.

Every single person present had a story about Shepard, about how she went above and beyond the call of duty to help them, and to make sure they were taken care of while aboard the Normandy. Shepard had always taken time to check in with the people who worked for her, even when the galaxy was falling apart and herself along with it. She was a good leader, arguably the best, and an even better friend. It was clear that everyone in the room admired her, and that she was missed.

Garrus knew he should say something, tell one of the many stories of the trouble he and Shepard had gotten into together. The others all watched him expectantly as he scrambled for words.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his omni-tool, followed by several bright flashes of light. He cursed and pulled up the interface to silence the damn thing. An urgent message alert flashed on his screen, and he tapped the icon to open it.

From: Dr. Chloe Michel

Subject: Jane Doe

Dear Garrus,

I hope this email reaches you, and that you are still alive to read it. I am on the Citadel working with an emergency medical unit out of what is left of Huerta Memorial. The blast from the Crucible caused some severe structural damage near the epicenter, and we have been searching the area to find and identify survivors and remains.

There is a Jane Doe here, who I believe you might know. Please contact me on a private channel whenever you are able.

Take Care,

Chloe

His heart sank like lead into his gut as he read what could only be a request to come in and identify a corpse. The space around him was suddenly too full, too loud, and the curious eyes of his companions lingered on him for far longer than comfortable. He tapped the display on his omni-tool once again to close it, glancing around the room from one set of eyes to another.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The truth would only cause unnecessary alarm he wasn’t equipped to handle at the moment. He stood abruptly, a jolt of pain coursing through his leg that was still recovering from a fracture, and excused himself. “Just need to make a quick call.”

“Now,” Liara asked, frowning, “But the memorial ceremony was just about to begin.”

“So start without me,” he snapped and made his way to the main battery. He’d apologize later, when his world wasn’t caving in.

The battery doors shut behind him with a familiar hiss and he sank down into his seat next to the workbench where his favorite rifle lay surrounded by tools and unused thermal clips. It had taken a beating in the battle on Earth, and Garrus had poured over repairing it in the days following its end. He hadn’t touched it since. There were no more enemies to fight, and the gun just reminded him of Shepard.

Bringing up his omni-tool once again, Garrus established a link using the information Michel provided him. He only waited a second or two before a voice on the other end picked up.

“Garrus,” exclaimed the woman, “I am so glad you received my message.”

“About that Jane Doe,” he began, cutting straight to the chase, “I— do you need me to identify the b— her ?”

“No… it is Commander Shepard,” she explained, “I am absolutely certain.”

“ Oh, ” Garrus said with the breath he’d been holding. He was glad he was already sitting down, as the last shreds of hope he’d been clinging to slipped from his grasp leaving him dizzy and sick. It was Shepard. She was dead. There was nothing to be done about it.

He took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts, cleared his throat and told the doctor, “I, uh…I’m not really sure how to— I mean, I guess I should make funeral arrangements. That’d be better than letting the Alliance—“

“Garrus,” Michel interjected firmly, “She’s alive.”

“ What,” he asked, more loudly than he’d intended. Hoping nobody had overheard outside, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean, how is she? What’s her condition? Is she going to—”

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor interrupted again, “Her injuries are serious, and she has been comatose since we found her. Still, her vitals are strong and stable at present. She is a fighter.”

“She is.”

The line was silent for a beat then Michel spoke up again. “I had a wonder… Shepard’s body has, ehm… extensive cybernetic modification. More extensive than I have seen. We are not certain how, or if it is even possible to repair all of the damage.”

One name came immediately to mind. “Miranda Lawson.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to contact Miranda Lawson,” Garrus clarified, “She is an ex-Cerberus operative, the scientist responsible for Shepard’s upgrades. And a friend. She will be able to help. I can send you her contact information.”

“Good, yes. I will contact her immediately,” Michel replied, relief noticeable in her voice. She then sighed and said, “I apologize for sending such a vague email. I am realizing now that it was likely… anxiety provoking. I simply did not wish for the wrong people to find out about Shepard’s survival.”

Garrus huffed, “Yeah, if the media caught wind of this, it’d be a circus.”

“That is what I feared,” she agreed with a sigh, “Besides, I thought you should be the first to see her. I know she is important to you.”

“Thank you, doc. For everything.”

“It is the very least I can do. I owe my life to the both of you. Twice over, now it would seem:”

“I’ll get to the Citadel as soon as I can.”

“Talk to you then.”

The call ended with a beep and Garrus shut off his omni-tool display, staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room for several minutes, attempting to recover from the emotional whiplash the last half hour had given him. He took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and headed back out to the mess hall.

All eyes turned to him as he made his way toward the memorial wall just outside the elevator. EDI’s and Anderson’s names had already been placed, tears already shed. Now they looked to Garrus, Cortez approaching with the name plaque meant to commemorate Shepard’s death. He took the polished silver plate and examined it, light glinting off its corners as he stepped up to the wall. For a long moment he traced the letters of a name that had come to mean so much to him, to those crowded in the narrow hallway around him, to the hundreds of thousands who’d cheered from ships in the massive fleet she’d rallied and led to victory, and to the billions of lives she’d saved across the galaxy. Shepard deserved so much more than a name on a wall.

And now, just maybe, she could have it.

Garrus would have preferred to keep Shepard’s survival to himself, to snag her from the hospital and elope to some secluded tropical paradise where nobody could ask anything of either of them again, except “Would you like a refill on that incredibly alcoholic beverage?” But he knew he couldn’t do that. After all, he was not the only one who loved her.

Lowering the plaque, he turned to face the others, all of whom looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He glanced down at Shepard’s name again, mandibles flaring out reflexively as relief and excitement swelled in his chest.

“They found her. They found Shepard,” he told them, bringing his eyes to meet their gazes as he spoke. “She’s alive.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #shakarian #ashley williams #tali'zorah #fanfic #my writing

45 notes · View notes

merminns · 3 years

Text

Bad influence

Fred Weasley x Reader

❧ Content: fluff, just the Weasley Twins and Lee being trouble makers

❧ Word count: 1.8k

❧ Notes: this is a repost from my old blog

It has been a calm, peaceful morning. It was finally the weekend after a long tiring week. You had agreed to spend the morning with your friends in your dorm to make up for the lack of time you spent together during the week, then the rest of the day is reserved for your boyfriend, who has grown restless over the lack of attention you’ve been giving him.

The sun was giving off enough warmth as you walked through the hallways to where you and Fred agreed to meet. Your walk held an air of blissful silence that you rarely ever get. Being a student in Hogwarts and dating one of the infamous Weasley twins, ‘peace’ and ‘silence’ aren’t words that usually made it into your daily vocabulary.

You love Fred, so much that it sometimes feels unbelievable, but sometimes you just long for some peace after all the chaos that comes with dating him.

Unfortunately for you, today wasn’t a day where peace would find its place. Your peaceful walk was cut short when you noticed all the noise in the hallway ahead of you. You walked closer to the noise, only to come face to face with a chaotic scene.

The first thing you noticed how the hallway was unusually filled with students. It was very unlikely for this number of students to be packed in one place on the weekend. But that wasn’t even the problem. Almost every student was on the ground struggling to stand, and those standing seemed to be struggling with keeping their balance.

The chaos should have been enough for you to stop in your tracks, but the confusion you felt kept you moving forward. Before you knew it, your feet were slipping fast. The world started spinning as you lost all balance and you closed your eyes in preparation for your awkward fall.

But the cold hard surface of the ground didn’t come. Instead, you felt an arm wrap quickly around your waist as you were pulled into a broad chest. Your eyes opened cautiously to meet the familiar red sweater with a golden ‘F’ in the center.

“Fancy meeting you here,” your gaze shifted upwards to come in level with your boyfriend’s grinning face “Seems like you quite literally fell for me.”

Despite the panicked state you were in a few seconds ago, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Fred’s silly comment as he helped steady you on the slippery floor. It’s not even a surprise he is here, wherever chaos is Fred was sure to be found.

“Let me guess, you’re responsible for this.” you stated. Chaos and Fred in one place, it’s only reasonable to assume he caused the chaos rather than just be there. Fred confirmed it when his goofy grin turned into a smirk. A smirk matching those on George’s and Lee’s faces as they waved to you from where they stood behind Fred.

“We figured a spell to wax the floor without making it obvious,” he replied proudly “here, have some fluffy socks, they should do the trick.”

Of course, it is never possible to spend a single boring moment when these three are around. “Wax the floor don’t you think that’s k—”

“MR WEASLEY!”

The booming voice unmistakably belonged to professor McGonagall. You felt the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It won’t be hard for her to figure what was going on, and despite usually living up to their pranks, the trio was in serious trouble this time. It’s not even about this silly prank, it’s more about the amount of trouble they get themselves into.

These three had been getting into plenty of trouble lately. Some Slytherins think it’s funny to tail after them and inform the closest professor about their newest prank. The number of house points they lost was horrifying. It even reached the point where they were threatened that if they were found causing more trouble, they’d be forbidden from joining any quidditch activities till the end of the year. So they agreed that if they ever got caught again, the first action of defense is to escape.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see George and Lee taking baby steps away from the scene to avoid getting into trouble, leaving you and Fred into the direct line of fire.

Fred, whose arm was still wrapped around your waist, tried to retreat as well, dragging you with him before McGonagall’s figure is close enough to prevent your escape. And it would have worked, had it not been for your clumsiness.

You managed, with the help of the waxed floor, to trip over your own feet. This time no one was there to break your fall. You fell face first dragging Fred and a couple of the standing students along with you, leaving you trapped under a mass of bodies.

By the time you recovered from the fall, professor McGonagall’s stern face was towering over you, wand in her hand, and the ground beneath you had lost its waxiness.

“Care to explain, Mr. Weasley?”

It’s common for you to not be one of those held responsible for such chaos. You were always known to be the goody-two-shoes. The model student, one who’d never cause any trouble.

It was even a common wonder to Hogwarts how you ended up with a trickster like Fred. No one had any idea that sometimes, you would be the mastermind to one of the trio’s pranks. Only a select few knew that you could cause a lot more trouble than Fred could.

But now, Fred was the only one around to blame for the complete chaos and the coupe of minor injuries caused by the silly prank. You know there’s no way for him out of this one. He’d be prevented from playing quidditch.

The thought filled you with an uneasy feeling. You know how much he loves the sport, separating him from his broom was like taking away part of him. And a glance at your boyfriend’s face was enough indication that he is thinking the same.

“It’s my fault!” you said before Fred could open his mouth to speak. Now, you aren’t any good at lying, and McGonagall wouldn’t just believe that a ‘perfect’ student such as yourself could cause so much trouble.

You slowly reach for your wand and hold it up. "I was trying to practice a new spell but it went wrong.”

You definitely are not a good liar but you had no choice here. Lying is your only way out of, or rather, into trouble.

“See, professor?” you said with a shy smile “Fred was just trying to help me… I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

If your lie wasn’t obvious, then the incredulous look on Fred’s face was enough evidence that you’re lying. It was very clear to McGonagall you are trying to get your boyfriend out of trouble.

A brave move. And if McGonagall admired anything in the world it is small brave actions like this.

You could see a tiny smile on her face. She can call you out for your lie and punish Fred. But she couldn’t bring herself to let your effort go to waste. The only downside? Someone has to be punished, especially because of the audience of students watching the scene, and you choose to be that someone.

Detention is boring, a complete waste of time and energy. But you’re thankful McGonagall was going easy on you. Having detention where you just sit around practicing transfiguration spells over and over again is so much better than any other outcome that could have taken place.

Though if Fred thinks he’s off the hook after this, he’s dead wrong. How dare he get himself into enough trouble that you’d have to go through detention to save his ass. You’re going to have to watch over him, he can’t get into any more trouble! And you just want to spend more time with him.

Your train of thoughts was rudely interrupted when a loud knock sounded at the closed door of the almost empty class. As McGonagall got distracted by whoever’s at the door, you caught movement through the corner of your eyes.

You shifted your attention to where the movement came from to see Fred waving at you from behind a statue placed at the far corner of the room, a wide grin covering his face as he motioned for you to come over. You mentally facepalmed, this is only getting you into deeper trouble.

You slowly inched closer to where your boyfriend was hidden out of McGonagall’s sight. He waited until you were close enough to pull you into him behind the statute.

“What are you doing? We’ll get in trouble?” you whispered as he crouched to the ground to pull on an almost invisible trap door. “What the hell?! When did this get here?”

“Shut up, you’ll get us caught!” he whispered back as he helped you down through the trap door and jumping in after you.

You walked through a dark tunnel the only light coming from Fred’s wand. You mattered a quick ‘Lumos’ to allow yourself more light. The walk wasn’t comfortable; the space was cramped and dark and completely unfriendly. Only kept moving thanks to Fred’s encouragement until you noticed another source of light ahead of you. As you walked closer you could see another trapdoor wide open above your heads.

As you walked closer, you noticed a hand reaching down to help you out of the claustrophobic space and into a dusty classroom that seems like it has been deserted for quite a while. The room was empty, aside from you and George who was now helping his brother up.

You waited until George closed the trapdoor and pulled a small worn out rug over it before you turned to your boyfriend.

“Before you ask, yes, we used the map” Fred beat you to it as he started explaining their little plan to help you escape.

Lee acted as a distraction as Fred helped you escape, George was to help you out of the trapdoor and then leave to notify Lee that the plan worked.

Your goofy little boyfriend managed to come up with a plan to ‘get you out’ of detention along with these two troublemakers. It won’t be long before McGonagall notices your absence, but your detention was just for show anyway, you doubted she��d punish you for this.

But this was still escaping detention and it’s something that you never thought you’d ever do. You never even got in detention before you started dating Fred. You were never a saint, you liked to do be a little mischievous sometimes, but you always managed to keep your front as the model student.

But now, your beloved boyfriend was slowly turning you into a troublemaker as well, but you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy every exciting moment you spent with him.

Masterlist | Share thoughts with me ☺

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley fluff #hp fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter #weasley twins #lee jordan

81 notes · View notes

wheatley-imagine-scenarios · 3 years

Text

School

Since school is coming up and I’m not looking forward to it, I thought I’d do something fun about school to distract myself from the fact that I’m actually going to have to go into the building. And have gym. And do ‘social interaction’... Also, I think the cores in school would be entertaining and fun to write. Uh, this turned out a lot longer than expected, so, prepare for a long read.

Wheatley

He asks a lot of questions

It makes people think he’s stupid, but he actually is just curious and wants to make sure he’s doing everything right.

Presentations make him a bit nervous, but he ends up being the most entertaining one of them all

Mostly because he goes off-script and rambles about the topic or the project itself

If anything goes wrong in it, he talks about that too

“I forgot to add a period there, that’s- that’s just a run-on sentence now, so that’s not,, good. Just, uh, just pretend there’s always been a period there. You probably didn’t even notice it, actually, so just pretend I never said anything-”

For essays, he struggles more. When he’s talking, his rambling kind of carries him without thinking, but when it’s on paper, he has to focus on every single word he writes.

He has a hard time making that type of writing flow, with all the transition words and stuff.

But when he gets to write a poem (mostly freeform) or a story with his own imagination, amazing things happen

He loves to create his own little world inside the paper, of which he’s in control

So, despite the essays and persuasive papers, english is one of his better, and favorite subjects

Not great at math

Chell tries to help, and tutors him outside of class to keep his grades up

Those two are partners whenever possible

If not, Wheatley pairs up with Rick

Gym class fucking sucks (agree with him there)

Even though he’s physically strong, he’s not very athletic since he’s still super clumsy and doesn’t have great coordination

Confident when it comes to tests, not too nervous about it

Probably didn’t study much, unless Chell forced him to

Bullied

Mostly verbally and from afar though, since,, he’s very strong and the students know this

One time Rick walked right up to him and called him a moron

Wheatley proceeded to clock him in the jaw

No one ever made the same mistake again

He apologized profusely though, insisting he didn’t know what came over him

This happened at the beginning of the year, before Rick knew him

Specifically, before he knew how fucking strong Wheatley is

So since then, Rick’s tried to get on his good side, despite, most likely not being genuine about it

Besides incidents like that, Wheatley’s not a fan of school fights, and doesn’t get why everyone gets so excited that two people are attacking one another

Like ?? Are they okay???

Getting school supplies is fun

School is not

GLaDOS

I mean, I guess she’d be called Caroline in this scenario

She’s the popular kid, I mean what else do you expect?

At least, unlike the stereotype, she’s actually smart instead of just hot and intimidating

She’s both of those things too, but-

Do people actually like her or are they just scared of her?

The world may never know

Calls Wheatley a moron on a regular basis, sometimes just to mess with him, but isn’t stupid enough to do it within arms reach of him

Even if she did, Wheatley’s reputation would be in more danger than her own physical well being

Science is her favorite subject

Did you really have to question that one?

She’s also really good at math, and would be a good tutor if she wasn’t such a bitch

I call her that lovingly, of course, but you can’t deny the fact she’s a bitch-

Probably the smartest one in school

Although Nathan would claim the title for himself

But she probably has more street smarts

Rick

Is the one who makes comments about how hot the teacher is and no one can tell if he’s serious

Rick: “I’d hit that” Nathan: “That is very illegal.” Rick: Hey, I’m just kidding,, kinda” Nathan: “I will not hesitate to report your sorry ass if you think about making a move” Rick: “Fine, damn, I’ll shut my trap”

Rick, motioning to Wheatley: “Hey, look who’s here. Bet you he trips and falls in 3, 2″ Wheatley: *falls over before making it to his desk* Rick: “And down he goes.”

He has been to the principal’s office more times than anyone else in the group

Whether it be for walking out of class without permission, being an overall asshole, or for trying to sneak into staff only areas

Which he has done before

Nathan is the only student who has witnessed this and its unknown whether he has ratted him out or if the teachers just saw him

Isn’t great in school, grades-wise, but convinced Nathan to tutor him once in a while to keep him from failing

Definitely has fucked a girl in the broom closet before

Doesn’t like school, but gym isn’t bad

Usually partnered up with Wheatley in gym class because he likes having strength on his side

Probably pushes too hard when writing, so any mechanical pencil breaks within seconds unless he’s concentrated on not,, doing that

One of the only students to prefer normal pencils for this reason

Nathan

An actual tutor

He has generalized knowledge of a lot of things, so he’s great both in school and with trivia

Has the top grades in class

Best and favorite subject is math

He can and will read a full length novel in the span of two days

Makes sure he has more than enough of each supply at the beginning of the year, just in case

Actually keeps track of his supplies so he’s not left with a single pencil he found on the floor by the end of trimester 1

He does give/borrow some to students who lost their own pencils, though

He likes school, but the teachers don’t usually appreciate his insights and interruptions in class (often to add on or to correct something the teacher is saying)

Pluto

Doesn’t like school, but the social aspect of it is fun

He’s also really good at independent projects, especially if it’s about something he’s interested in

You know. Like space, for instance

The day his teacher asked the students in class to build a model of the solar system was one of the more significant moments in his life /hj

His was the most accurate, much to the disdain of Nathan

Favorite subject is also science

Virgil

I wasn’t gonna add him, but his favorite subject is history

I can’t give you a real reason why, it just is

That’s it, that’s the only reason he’s here

#i cant explain why glados has less info than rick #i guess my hatred for him made me think about him more #i only hate canon and musical rick btw #fan ricks can be cool :)#and even canon/musical rick is funny #i can admit that #wheatley #human wheatley #glados #human glados #rick the adventure core #nathan the fact core #fact core #space core #virgil core

35 notes · View notes

gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Gwyncien headcanon

Okay so my headcanon is that Lucien would try to be understanding about Elain and Azriel being together. The mating bond would be the only thing that would make him want to enact the blood duel but he would fight it cause he knows he isn’t owed Elain. Anyways this was the outcome of that.

Gwyn did not know why she was here. She told herself it was for Nesta, but she knew her friend would be occupied with her mate for most of the night. It was true torture to endure this night at the court of nightmares. She insisted that if she couldn't handle the court of nightmares there was no way she could handle the rest of the world. It was a test for herself. She couldn't tell if she were passing or failing though.

"Could definitely be worse." Gwyn whispered back. She tried not to stare. It only made her pathetic she told herself. Luckily though, no one was watching her too closely. No one knew that Azriel and Gwyn were mates which meant they weren't over analyzing the situation right along with Gwyn. When she had dreamt of finding a mate, she never imagined this. The way the bond could actually hurt Gwyn was almost too much to bear. No wonder mates never rejected each other. Gwyn had been so lost in her head, she hadn't noticed Lucien approaching her.

"You look beautiful tonight, Gwyn." The male gave her a shy smile before bowing. Gwyn frowned while looking down at herself. She was wearing her priestess robe with the hood pulled down to cover most of her face for once. She wasn't sure what he was playing at, but decided to play along. Anything to distract her from that wretched couple. Only then did it hit her that perhaps he was doing the same.

"Thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Gwyn lifted her hood off her head and smiled at the red head. Similar in color to her own hair.

"I was hoping for a dance." He held out his hand. His smile turned more confident. He truly was handsome even with that terrible scar running down half his face.

"I don't know how to dance." Gwyn didn't want to make a fool of herself, especially when Azriel and Elain looked so graceful together.

"I'll lead. Don't worry. I won't do anything crazy." He sent her a smirk that told her he would, in fact, do something crazy.

"Okay." She found herself agreeing. Emerie sent her a wide look while nudging her. Gwyn sent a casual smile back. Lucien would never hurt Gwyn. She had over heard the story from Feyre herself. Lucien was one of few males who understood her pain.

He led her off to the floor and swept her into the ongoing waltz. He was close, closer than she had let any male before. Yet there was still a respectable distance between them for a dance. He kept his hand high on her back and she knew it would never veer from that spot. Her heart picked up out of conditioned fear. She took a deep breath to calm herself. He would not hurt her. They were slow and clumsy, but they were dancing which was surprising enough for Gwyn. She figured she would have stepped on his toes by now.

Azriel tried to ignore the mate bond as it tugged sharply. It didn't help that his shadows were angry about the situation as well. He kept making brief glances as his mate ineloquently danced along with the autumn lord. He knew Lucien was doing this on purpose. Azriel was unaware how the other male learned of his ties to Gwyn, but this was Lucien's payback for Elain and damn did it make Azriel feel guilty.

"What's wrong?" Elain spoke quietly. She glanced up at him through her lashes before focusing back on the dancing. She looked beautiful tonight, opting for red instead of black which he had to admit suited her much better. He hadn't told Elain that the mating bond snapped into place for Gwyn and him a little over two months ago. He didn't know how to tell her, although if anyone could understand, it was Elain.

"Just keeping surveillance." Azriel wished he had his shadows right now, so that they could keep track of Gwyn. Unfortunately, they still disappeared around Elain. He thought that had been a good thing. Now he wasn't so sure. "What is it like to watch Lucien dance with someone else?" He couldn't help but wonder if it felt the same for her as it did for him. He felt miserable yet had no right to be. Gwyn gave him an option. He just hadn't realized how insistent this bond would be.

"Uncomfortable." Elain decided after a long pause. "I don't really know him, so I should feel indifferent. But I can feel the bond tugging as though it's mad at me." He hadn't expected her to be so honest. He appreciated it anyways. Azriel did know Gwyn though. She was his friend which could be the reason the bond is much more painful than a mere uncomfort. He twirled Elain once more before she announced she was tired of dancing. They both retreated back to the dais where their friends were joking.

"It's not funny." Nesta groaned with a scowl gracing her face. Feyre, Rhys, and Mor were all laughing.

"What's not funny" Elain asked looking towards her oldest sister. Mor decided to answer when Nesta refused.

"It appears that the first man to pique the priestess's interest also happens to be the man that annoys the shit out of Nesta." Amren drawled after taking a seat. A bloom of anger rocked the bond so hard that Azriel's shadows came to life for a brief second before hiding again. The tight squeeze of Elain's hand into Azriel's let the Shadowsinger know that she felt the same way he did. It angered him to think that the first male to catch Gwyn's eye would be Lucien rather than him.

"It's not like that." Elain squashed any relationship theories right then. "Lucien wouldn't parade another female in front of me like that." While Elain's proclamation was true, it still made him frown. Perhaps Elain felt a little more than just uncomfortable seeing the pair dance. The rest of the group eyed Elain, but it was Feyre who came to Lucien’s defense.

"You refuse to talk to Lucien and are in a public relationship with our spymaster, Elain," Feyre was frowning as she spoke. "I think he can ask Gwyn, of all people, to dance with him." She finished by rolling her eyes at Elain. Azriel didn't like the insinuation Feyre made but kept it to himself all the same. The conversation quickly cut off as the group watched the pair end the dance with a bow.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Watching them be happy together?" Gwyn eyed Lucien. He couldn't know. Gwyn refused to tell anyone, mainly out of embarrassment. She supposed that didn't mean Azriel kept quiet though.

"I'm unsure I understand." She would play dumb for all it was worth. It made Lucien chuckle. He twirled her before pulling her back and continuing the conversation.

"I guessed you two were mates awhile ago. But you confirmed it for me tonight. You watch him like I watch Elain." He gave a sad smile before twirling her again. "I'm surprised he rejected you though. Azriel has been waiting more than 500 years for a mate."

"Not for A mate." Gwyn snapped. She couldn't control her rising anger. Not when it came to the mate bond. "He waited 500 years for the mate bond to snap in place with Mor and then Elain." She used her mind-stilling to calm herself. Lucien watched her intently with his one russet eye.

"He didn't technically reject me." Gwyn started the story she hadn't uttered to anyone before. "I knew he was still hung up on Elain though when the mate bond snapped into place. I told him I didn't want him to feel forced into this. So if he wanted to be with Elain, I wouldn't hold any resentment." Gwyn chuckled along with Lucien at that. The mate bond was not as forgiving. Gwyn hadn't realized how painful it would be to watch him with Elain when she uttered those words to him.

"The bond can be a fickle thing can't it?"

"Why didn't you challenge him to the blood fight? You had every reason to?" Gwyn couldn't stop herself from asking. She was glad he hadn't. It still didn't make sense to her though.

"Besides the fact that he would kill me and Elain would feel that pain? Would finally understand the true torture of the mating bond? Same reason you told him he could be with Elain. I don't want someone to be with me out of obligation." He twirled her once more and she was suddenly overcome with such sadness for the autumn lord. He deserved a mate that chose him. His eyes softened as they made eye contact again. Neither said a word for a solid minute.

“You are quick to underestimate yourself. Is that on purpose or do you truly believe you would lose?” Gwyn believed that at the very least, Lucien would put up one hell of a fight. He was raised by high lord Beron of all people, who was known for his cruelty. A sly smile quirked Lucien’s mouth.

“You’re the first to call me out on that.” It wasn’t technically an answer, but it told Gwyn all she needed to know. He allowed everyone to underestimate him. To believe he is only proficient in fighting. It should have made her nervous, but for some reason it had her laughing.

“I would love to see you kick Azriel’s ass.” It would be the kick to his ego that he needed quite honestly. Lucien laughed before a round of silence fell over them. Lucien was the first to break it.

"You could come with me. We call ourselves the band of exiles. It's just Jurian, Vassa, and I, but it would be better than watching their love story unfold." She was shocked by the invitation. She knew her face showed it as well. She knew she couldn't accept. At least not right now. She didn't want to leave Nesta and Emerie. She didn't want to stop her Valkarie training. The song was coming to an end and Gwyn knew that as soon as it did that this conversation would have to end with it.

"I have something I want to do." Lucien's brows furrowed in confusion, so she elaborated further. "I want revenge. But I'm not ready yet. Would this invitation still extend when I am ready?" Her voice was unsteady due to nerves. She hadn't mentioned her revenge plan to anyone before. A gleam entered Lucien's eye. He knew what she wanted and he would support her through it. The song ended causing Lucien to step away from Gwyn and bow once more.

"I'll be waiting." And then he was walking away. Gwyn floated back to the dais, to her spot by Emerie. She was so lost in her new plans, new plans that Lucien helped establish that she hadn't realized the entire inner circle staring at her. Including Elain and Azriel. Both had unreadable expression but both made her skin crawl uncomfortably. One of Azriel's shadows whipped out at her, barely grazing her wrist. It barely stung, but enough for Gwyn to know the shadows were upset with her. She frowned at them.

"What?" Redness rushed to her cheeks at the attention. She knew it wasn't good attention either.

"What was that about?" Nesta inclined her head to the dance floor. Gwyn didn't want to talk about it especially in front of the inner circle.

"He asked me to dance so I said yes." Gwyn shrugged as though it meant nothing. Truly the conversation had meant a lot to Gwyn. Finally being able to talk about it to someone lifted a weight that she hadn't known was there from her shoulders.

"Is that why you were making goo goo eyes at him?" Emerie teased while nudging her. Gwyn didn't see why this was being openly joked about. Azriel and Elain only went public with their relationship a month ago. Before then the entire inner circle was sure that this would cause war. Gwyn chanced a glance at Azriel, but his face gave nothing away. She looked to his shadows because she knew that those were much harder to control around her. Unfortunately the shadows had disappeared.

"Lucien is my friend." The words were colder than Gwyn had meant, but it turned the teasing air into awkward silence. Nesta and Emerie were searching Gwyn's face for any tells. They came up empty though. It was Rhysand to respond next.

"Sorry Gwyn. We weren't trying to imply anything." His words were kind but it only made Gwyn's face flame brighter. Of course they wouldn't imply anything like that with her. It reminded her of how they all see her. Trauma first. Person second.

She wondered if any of them, besides her two sisters, would ever look at her and see anything other than that day in Sangravah. She peeked a glance back at Lucien and saw him for what he could be. A fresh start. He knew about her experiences, but he wasn't there that day. He didn't see with his own eye what they had done to her. Perhaps Azriel's rejection was a blessing in disguise. Azriel himself had saved her that day. Maybe one look at her face and he found himself back in Sangravah, lifting her weak body into his arms. Before she could sink too far into the memories, she felt the mate bond being tugged at. Her eyes snapped to Azriel's where he was already staring softly back. It only fueled her anger though. She knew he had done it to pull her away from those memories but he had no right. He didn't get to use the mate bond unless he wanted to be with her.

"Stop looking at me like that." It was meant for Azriel, but applied to most of the group as well. Gwyn pulled her hood up and turned back to the dance floor. Her silent way of telling them to fuck off. She felt Emerie link their arms together. Nesta found herself on Gwyn's other side, grabbing her hand.

"I swear if you like Lucien I'll rip all my hair out." Nesta muttered in her ear. It had Gwyn laughing out loud. She gripped her friend's hand harder.

"I'd expect nothing less."

#gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #lucien #acotar #acosf #fanfic

110 notes · View notes

fictional-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Poisoned

the mandalorian x fem!reader

warnings: smut, rough messy sex, slight dom/sub elements, sex pollen (dub/con), language, breath-play, fingering, one (1) spank

words: 6k+

a/n: this is genuinely the smuttiest thing i’ve ever written...enjoy

The Mandalorian is walking too fast, he’s gaining speed, leaving her behind in the foggy dark green forest. She’s desperately trying to keep up but her body’s seizing up and trembling and soaked in sweat. His cloak sways behind him and she’s try to not feel dizzy as the tanned colour of it clouds her blurry vision; but the planet is spinning in time with her twisting nerves and white hot muscles.

He’s clumsy, ducking under banches almost too late and his boots catch on thick veiny vines that litter the forest floor. The air smells damp and of pollen, of fluorescent flowers, dripping their sickly sweet scents and luring their prey. Deathly and dark violet the bulbous and puffy flowers hang in thick bunches, taunting the bounty hunter, teasing him with their lavender faces.

He should have known something was wrong. It was too silent. Too dark.

“Wait, wait,” she’s sweating under the thick and flexible armour, it feels as if there’s a million suns spanning the vast sky above her, burning down in fury from the gods. Skins slicked and her underclothes are sticking uncomfortably, melting to her frame. Her hairs a mess, damp and knotted and frizzy with humidity. “Damn it, Mando — somethings wrong.”

Mando nearly freezes in his tracks at her words voice high and broken; fuck, he knew it. She’s got it too, she has be feeling the same, weakened, chest constricted, halting breath in the lungs and skin burning like a forest fire, tongue parched and dry in the mouth, it’s death but only slower.

“What did you say?”

She coughs. The pit of her stomach is pulling towards an unseeable object, ripping through muscles in curling motions, thighs and hands trembling. The forest is so dark and bushy and green and lush she’s having trouble telling what is in front of her, eyes bleary and blinking in and out.

She hears the Mandalorian speak and nearly crash into the brushes under her heavy boots, the hot curls of pain unfurl inside her, a caged animal, clawing to be free and rid of her wretched body.

Something is really wrong.

Her hands find a mossy tree trunk and she’s barely keeping herself up, she’s holding her head in her shaking hand and has got her eyes screwed shut to block out the sight of the Mandalorian pushing his way back through the trees to get back to her, his long rifle catching on the vines and boots thumbing on the ground that seems to sway, a gentle and giant seesaw of lush greenness is the planet, twisting into a thousand vines.

He’s getting closer and it’s all she can do but not scream. Don’t, don’t come any closer.

“You okay?” He grips her forearm tight in his gloved hand and her skin erupts in goosebumps, prickling her skin with an override of electricity. Her mouth drops open as a thousand fluttering beings swarm inside her stomach as he’s connected to her.

“Don’t touch me,” she’s frantic and he’s pulling away from her, his gloved hands raised, almost in defence. Her own clammy hands are pulling at the thick straps and buckles of her armour, it’s too tight and she can’t breathe.

The Mandalorians mind is racing, thinking back to every single second they they’ve been on the godforsaken planet, it’s a slipping of details, they’re all a blur, pieces fell where they shouldn’t be and he’s so confused, why can’t he remember what happened to them? Why does it seem to be affecting her more then it is him?

Then he realizes.

The Mandalorian growls a soft swear, “shit,” and she whips her head to look at him, pupils dilated and forehead glazed with a sheen of sweat, she’s a breathtaking disaster.

“What?”

“This is your fault.” He’s harsh, condescending. He angrily snaps his rifle over his shoulder to free up his movements, he’s handling the weapon roughly and she’s watching with slight awe. Every second he’s in hot pain, it’s pulling him closer to her every second and now he’s absolutely certain. “Now —” he tries to explain but she’s already lashing out in that bright red anger.

“You bastard, how is this my fault?” She stumbles and nearly falls but catches herself with some dignity, ignoring the Mandalorians hand moving to help her, if need be. Her raised voice causes his chest to lurch and he’s trying not to look directly at her. He’s now absolutely certian and trying to remain calm.

They’d been wandering through the thick forest, stepping through shallow streams and climbing over moss covered rocks protruding from the planets crust. She’d been walking along, weapons slung across her chest, just absolutely entranced by the canopy of violet flowers that hung in thick and heavy looking bunches over their heads; the red suns of this planets atmosphere did their best to shine through the long winding leaves of the plants, but as the bounty hunters continued on, the darker their surroundings became.

She was ignoring the Mandalorian, angry at him once again for getting them lost, but his argument in retaliation was she had simply forgotten to pack the ships tracker back at base. Packed into a steaming argument she then proceeded to send him surly glares and refuse to speak.

The Mandalorian didn’t mind much, he liked the quiet, and quite honestly, he enjoyed it more when he knew she weren’t going to start speaking. He’d never been much of a talker, but going on this mission with a fellow (amateur) hounty hunter, he’s been forced to converse, pleasantly or not.

They had been walking under the flowers for ages, time didn’t exist there, a loop of the hours that dragged on forever. Then that is where everything was her fault.

She touched a small fluorescent flower, curled her slim fingers around the velvety petal she smoothed skin of the plant under her palm and turned to examine the bright pollen covering her flesh.

She caught his gaze for a moment, a hazed over kind of glint in her eyes, then looked down at her pollen covered hand, then back at the innocent looking plant, a light violet powder covered her hand, and imprinted on the large petals was her very handprint.

“It’s just a plant. We should keep moving.” He turned and strode away, pushing down the idea that she had looked beautiful, surrounded by soft colours, it was different than her usual aesthetic. She only smiled, her frustration melted away, and brushed the rest of the pollen from her palm, together they watched it soak into the air, soft and aesthetic it slid between the panels of sunlight that peeked through.

The faces of flowers watched the hunters leave the forest; poisoned and deadly.

“You gotta be fucking kidding. Fuck.” The Mandalorian sighs deeply and he’s trying not to stare as she’s stripping from her metallic armour, her hurried fingers untying the laced up straps of her chest piece he’s kneeling down and helping her before she can yell at him. His gloved hands graze the skin of her collarbone exposed between the laces of her white undershirt and she’s whimpering.

She can’t strip right here. He’s not sure what will happen if she does. “Stop.”

“I said don’t fucking touch me,” she’s pushing him away and glaring, dark and deep.

“Do you know what that was?” He’s cooled down, thinking of what to do, that pulsing and burning need is brimming within his chest, begging and a slur of sinful thoughts seep into his mind. “The flowers?”

She’s sunk down to the brushy forest floor amongst the fluffy ferns and little white dotted flowers with red cheeked and filled with fierce bemusement she answers him. “The hell should I know.”

His shoulders droop with his heavy sigh and he’s scanning the trees around them, wondering if it’s the pollen affecting his sight too or if the wooded plants really do look as if they are bending over them, creaking and contorting into an arch as if to protect the two hunters, watch over them. “I’ve heard of these before, and this has to be it — why you’re in pain.”

The Mandalorian makes no comment of his own deplorment, controling desire morphed into threads of pain. He’s keeping it under wraps but having her so close to him, so bare and soft, as much as she exists to him as an enemy rather than one he’s thought of in such a way its throwing his attention askew.

“I’m not in pain,” she’s snapping at him again, short words and a steely tone she’s already turning a cold shoulder, never accepting the fact that she’s not immortal.

Inwardly she knows she’s lying, but it’s a half lie, she’s in pain but it’s a familiar feeling, the warmth pooling inside her, trembling hands and thighs, she can just feel the dampness at her core, hot and slick she’s absolutely soaked.

“I’m just —” she cant string the words together, looking up at the stern Mandalorian she’s fighting back the urge, the longing and pathetic urge to crawl into his lap and have him fuck her till she can’t breathe; to sink himself deep inside her with a hand around her neck and to just fuck her senseless.

“I know.”

They’re back at the ship, the night air is cold and there are few stars alive in the sky. The Mandalorian and her are only feet apart, he’s across from her in his chair, back straight and unmoving, facing the dash. She’s sitting on the ground with her back against the rough cooling wall, the metal grated floor is hard and her ass is sore but if she’s sitting anywhere else she’s close to the Mandalorian and she can’t have that.

WInd howls outside and the huge trees sway in the darkness outside the Mandalorians ship.

She’s got her eyes closed, jawline accented in the semi darkness she’s leaning back to the wall, bottom lip caught under her teeth she’s biting down harshly and tapping her foot in an anxious beat as sweat drops past her sternum and slides over her skin between her breasts, she feels every milimeter of her skin crawl and its rolling in waves, the slick and pushing arousal, its sliding under her skin and got its grip on her chest so tight shes stripped her shirt off.

Her forgotten armour and boots lay in the middle of the open space within the ship.

This isnt ending soon.

The Mandalorian watching his fist curl and uncurl, the wrinkles of the leather gloves he’s wearing bend and fade, he’s unfocused and can only think of her, she’s ten feet away and hasn’t spoken to him since they made it back to his ship. He’s thinking of how she uttered a moan as he brushed her lower back, her eyes closing, slipping into a world where the affects of the pollen are taken care of.

He’s wondering just how long the effects last when the she speaks up, her voice hoarse and taunt in her lungs. “How the hell is this not having any effect on you?” His fist clench one last time and he’s shifting in his chair, through the visor his eyes close momentairly, pondering of what to say.

“I never said it wasn’t.”

For all the wrong reasons heat pools within her core at the Mandalorians tender voice, smooth and rich its all she can do but imagine how he sounds next to her ear, telling her how good she feels around him, how wet and tight. “You feel this too?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s still blaming her, still wrapped in the idea she’s at fault. How could she have known? In turn, he was at fault as well, getting them lost and failing to recall the deadly flowers.

Then she’s saying something he’d never expect.

“I’m so sorry,” she’s muttering, rubbing the heals of her hands into her eyes, blurring her vision — childlike, innocent. “This is all my fault,” grimacing, she moves her legs to be more comfortable. “It hurts,”

An apology. In the moment the Mandalorian finds it amusing that it takes fucked up pollen fever to force her to apologize for something.

The Mandalorians chest is pinched, painful, and he sighs deeply, she sounds so wrecked, her voice soft, weak. He hears her shifting on the floor and his ears ring witht he rustle of clothing — everything is sensitive. “I know,” he says her name in the short sentence and she’s whimpering in reply.

They could be anywhere, planets away, flying past suns and stars, holed up in dingy towns or broken cities — no, they’re ten feet apart and both have managed to inhale sex pollen straight from the deadly plant itself.

“Mando,” she whimpers again, sliding her hands down her torso, her palms press over her nipples and her back arches; she’s forgetting her hatred for the Mandalorian, letting his annoyance to her everyday life slip from her mind — she’s opened her eyes and he’s there, standing, the shadows curved around him you can only see the outline of his form. Her eyes linger on his arms, his now bare hands and the warmth tugs somewhere deep inside her.

Eyes darkened and filled with a lingering prederatory hilt, she’s pulling herself to her feet, the Mandalorians watching her, a warrior, torn and wrecked, chapped pink parted lips and lashes fluttering over her bright eyes — unstoppable, seductive. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about her beyond the dealings of companionship, of partners in they crimes they commit.

“We gotta do something about this, Mando.” Its killing her, she’s sure of it. Her eyes break into his beskar, drag over his bulky body.

“There’s nothing... we just wait it out.”

“I can’t,”

“I don’t care.” He’s back to cruel words in the place of his longing rule the flood of things he wants to say, to bend close to your ear and whisper. Fuck me.

She’s stalking closer to him, wetting her lip with her tounge its only moments before something has to happen, its damp and rushed in the hazy red lights inside the ship, they’re furious and watching the Bounty Hunters below.

“I hate you, you know that?” Her words are dripping burning silk — she’s never hated him. And thats her immortal demise, a secret, tucked away in her heart.

“Feelings mutual.” He turns his head to stare into her eyes, her widened and starlike eyes. His own dark eyes trail down past her collarbone and land on her breasts nearly pushed from her tight covering, rising ad falling in time with her breaths. His hands ich to just touch.

She purrs. “We can hate eachother,” she’s stepped closer to him and he’s not moving, allowing her to invade all idea of personal space she’s so close he can smell her. She seems to forget where she was going with her sentence, looking up at him its like she sees right through him.

“Can we?” His voice breaks through the mask. She chews on the idea, wonders what kind of pretty words it would take to get him to fuck her. Her cunts soaked and throbbing, the push of the material of her pants aren’t helping.

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

There it is.

“Dont ask stupid questions.” He’s turning away but she’s got a hold of his arm, her warm hand in contact with his is taking ridiculous affect, lurching up and and through his chest the Mandalorians heart is in his throat. “We cant,”

He’s thinking it too.

“Its not wrong,” she’s sliding her hand down to slip her fingers through his, stiring up the growing fire. Its hot and heavy, weighs him down. “Mando, please,” she’s begging, caught on whimpers she’s breathing heavier and heavier. The Mandalorin pulls his hand from her grip, raises it and he’s brushing a forlorn tear from her cheek.

Please. “I can’t stop it,”

He’s slowly going insane, at the touch of her skin something within him snaps and he’s pulling her close, pushing her to the wall of the ships interior, his arms trapping her in. Their breaths match, and she’s so close to him, her eyes softening her mouth opens to beg, of pathetic desperation and drunk on the flowers bitter poison. The Mandalorian stops her, a bare hand agaisnt her mouth he’s silenced her. The touch of their burning skin nearly has her dropping to her knees. She looks into the visor of the hemlet and searches of emotion, a flicker of life behind the face of a machine.

The Mandalorians body is pressed to hers, compact, brimming with the poisonous affections, they’re drowning in the stuff. She shudders in his grasp, the mix of metal and weapons, of leather and the soft material of his shirt, its all too much, burning and keeping her of air its not enough.

He’s looking away from her, forcing himself to keep his cool. Its a rippling fire, lurching and spreading as if alive, the thick coils are heavy. Mando tempts a movement, his cock hard against her and it’s so good — she whines info his hand, her leg slinking up his own, trapping him closer.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, huh?” The Mandalorian’s rough, distracted, caught in grinding out as much friction against her as he can, chasing away the clouding thoughts, screaming at him that everything is wrong.

But those fade, sink into pure silence when her free hand slides up his wrist, nails dug into his skin, she’s pulling his hand away from her lips, her heavy lidded eyes dance with seduction. He’s watching her turn his hand, help him cup her jaw, half spread over the side of her throat, his thumb glides over her lip, she’s turning her head, leaning into his grasp she’s taking the digit between her wet pursed lips, sucking, biting down.

Fuck.

“Please Mando,” hoarse voice in his ears and shooting a pool of warmth straight through him. She’s sinking into the wall, dark eyes pouring into him. Desperate. Longing. “What, you want me to beg?”

Mando freezes. A growl pushes its way through his chest. “No,” she’s ruining him, breaking him apart by the seams. Her brows knitted, eyes wide, pleading. A selfish, dark part of the Mandalorian wants to force her to her knees, maybe turn her front to the wall, press deep into her and fuck the burning urges away.

Her tones smooth and sinking into his skin, drugging him. “Wanna watch me get off? Maybe that’s what you’d like, Mando?”

She pushes him back, forcing stumbling steps, using what’s left of her strength. It’s wickedly wrong, she needs him so bad it hurts. She wants to drop to her knees, taste his cock on her tongue, strip the beskar off, drag her nails down his skin, make him moan her name.

Her words are nearly fucking unbearable. The burning sexual tension hangs in the air, choking them. The ships inside is warm and sticky, her half bare body is covered in sweat, her skin flushed and eyes dark, she matches what earthquakes seem and what passion wishes it could be.

The last dregs of self control fade, his minds hazy with greed and the absence of her burning fever touch has him desperate.

“Get on the floor.”

Quiet. Commanding. She’s obeying instantly and sinks to the floor of his ship, grated metal digging into her flesh, the ground is filthy and gritty and she’s biting back harsh words, only for the moment, thick and heavy need is in place of hatred. Her poisoned gaze burns into him, watching him pull away weapons and leather, heavy cloak and chunks of beskar — not all all of it though.

He’s over her, burning touch that’s melting to her skin. She falls into a moan, her stomach tense with arousal, spreading through her body, following his hands. “Fuck you need to touch me,” everything is begging her to delve into him, rip apart from their restraining history, make amends and build up something new, something in which he can fuck her and hate her at the same time.

And maybe he is.

Through the visor of his helmet, glitching into view, her body spread and displayed, his core deepens, eating him from the inside. Mando pulls her to his lap, her cunt right over his centre, throbbing over his cock. A hot moan drips from the helmet, he closes he eyes, letting her move against him, spine arched beautifully; Mando slides an arm around the small of her back, keeping her close with a spread hand. The other gropes her chest, further pulling down the tight material covering her tits.

“I need—” a whimper slides over her lips, her hands settle over his broad shoulders, drag him closer. “I need something...your hands — fuck — your lips on me.”

“You’re not getting that.” He promises, his helmets not coming off, he’s barely taken any armour off — and she’s bare over him, albeit tight underclothes. His hand slides down her skin, past her navel and dip down past her underclothes, shoving them aside. She gasps loudly, releasing her breath in a shaking moan as his fingertips brush her softness.

That aching pull, it’s deepening and she’ll surely run out of breath before the Mandalorian can properly touch her. She’s forgotten it’s not affected him as much as her — not that it matters, he’s got his hand on her cunt and his dick is hard and thick under her. “Please, oh my god.”

The helmet tilts, the coolness brushing her skin. He’s watching her, arched into his grasp, silently begging for anything. Then he’s curled two fingers into her, gathered in slick and crooked just right and she shrieks, shatters over him. Blood red lips and wild eyes, she’s moving, urging him to fuck her through the drug, bring the heavyness to an end. Its not enough.

She’s falling back, legs untanged with his, she’s gripping him and pulling him close, collasping onto the floor, his hand leaves her for a moment, tugging an empty ache back into her gut. “No, no --” she’s whimpering, “please keep going.”

His hand pushes the mess of hair from her face, looking right into her wretched eyes. Through the rush and anger, he feels a bit of softness, a bit of longing mixed with a likeness, she must be well under the drug, for she’s never been one to beg just that much. His bare hands slide back over her body, dipping past her hipbones and blunt nails dragging down her thighs. Her cunt glistens, Mandos caught in wondering just how she’d taste on his tongue, his head between her thighs, tight around his ears.

“Mando,”

The helmet tilts again and she catches a glimpse of skin, tan under the material and beskar. It’s the column of his throat, leading down where his collarbone would be. The sight sends her into fresh, delicious delirium.

“You need me to fuck you.” He’s buying time, seeing how far she can stretch, the looks of her all soft and longing is turning him on a little too much. It’s not the girl she normally is.

Half a sob curls up, painfully pushing at her throat. She needs him so bad. “Isn’t that fucking obvious.”

There she is.

Without warning he’s over her and his hand on her cunt, two fingers sunk deep in her wetness, pulling her into a painful arch from the grated flooring. She shakes, her hand finds his shoulder and grips tight, nails nearly digging into the thick material of his shirt. Living vicariously through the feeling of his fingers in her cunt, he’s back to thinking just how she’s taste, how she’d writhe and shiver under his tongue. The thoughts are burning through him and his dick is painfully hard — her thigh brushes him and he nearly comes right there.

He’s fucking her slowly, roughly; thumb brushing her clit through the plush wetness of her cunt, she biting down on moans and quivering, lithe in his grasp. “Mando please, I need —” she’s got her eyes squeezed shut, rolling through another wave of wanton poison, it’s bleeding into every nerve.

“I know what you need,” he’s got her. His voice soothes her, his rough hands pull her thigh up, three fingers slathered in her dripping elixir, they’re flat to her clit and pushing in short circles. His touch is chasing away the heat in her skin, derived under influences of lust, she’s collapsing under thick waves of it. She needs his hands, his lips his dick — anything. What the Mandalorian is doing is not enough.

“Mando, just shut up, please —” the slip of his fingers on her clit is sloppy, pressing hard and soaked in her honey. “I need something.” It still hurts, the pollens clamped itself inside her system, taking ahold of her hot muscles, her running heart and flushed skin.

He’s got her pinned, ragged sounds tear from him, the helmets speakers crackle with his breath. Mandos hovered above her, ire trained on her face, down her chest to her breasts rising and falling, pert nipples and soft curves. She’s so damn soft, angelic in a ruined sort of way. Mando groans, her hands found his cock, palming through the fabric.

“Take of the mask,” she’s panting, her free hand leaves his shoulder and slides down the metal, right where she imagined his cheekbone would be. His movements slow. “Wanna have your fucking mouth on me.”

“Helmet stays on.” He’s pulled her closer, sinking down to cover her bare body with his metallic and leather clad one, his right hand digs under her thigh, raises it to his side, slim fingers gripping her pretty curves. She’s frustrated, all that hate and anger comes back in droves, her hand leaves his cock, much to her displeasure and leaves him chasing the feel of it, she’s temping him, fueling a spark of anger.

“I don’t care.” She hisses, eyes scathingly dark.

Smack! His hand slaps the outside of her thigh, burning the skin a deeper colour and bringing a cry of surprise to the edge of her breath. Fuck, the spank shot the air from her lungs, swollen lips parted but not a noise leaves them.

The sudden sting and roughness of it was painful — she wants it again. Her cunts tight around nothing and she’s pulled on an edge.

“Could blindfold you,” the voice through the helmet is deep, it sends her further into an intoxicating trance. “That what you want?”

Fuck no. She’s biting her lip and pushing herself up and onto him. Her tits press to his beskar and it’s cold to her skin, covered in goosebumps and sweat, chills run rampant over her form. She whimpers, his rough hands find her cunt, dip into the warmth once again.

“I’m not putting a blindfold on, fuck that.” She’s panting, arched up to him as his fingers leave her cunt, slicked and tasting of her sweetness. She’s mewling and its not enough, she needs the real thing. She’s begging him to fuck her properly between the sounds of metal clinking, the heavy rustle of fabrics — he’s not wasting a second before he’s half torn from the beskar.

The Mandalorian smooths his bare hand over her cunt, watching her shiver — wretched art, she’s beautifully twisted. She’s palming her own breast, arching info the feeling, her body calling him, a siren luring.

Fuck it. He could do no blindfold.

“Fine,” he’s growling and grips her hips, hands dug into her skin he’s flipped her over, her chest pressed onto the dirty floor of the ship, the Mandalorian runs a hand up her smooth back, his hand curves around the back of her neck and she’s pinned down.

His free hand rips the helmet off, it clatters fo the floor beside her, the empty metal visor staring, watching. Basked in fresh air and the smell of sex, Mando leans over her, a large hand slides up past her tits and circles her throat. She whines and bends to his will. Mandos rough and unforgiving, a newfound freedom without the helmet has him pulling her body right to his broad chest, teeth scraping her neck, damp moans and mutters of curses fall from his hungry lips.

“Gods, gods you’re so good,” his raw and ragged tone is thick in the air, finally free of his helmet, still mysterious to her, it’s the sinking reality of just how attracted she is to him, how pathetically desperate she is, letting a man fuck her and never let her see his face; but the feel of his hardness pressed against her along with leftover leather and beskar mixed with his lips on the lobe of her ear is enough.

She wants the Mandalorian to show her how good she is. All that blinds her is pure need, flower drunk and trapped in the world of fever dreams.

Sliding her ass against him, his cock hard as fucking marble between them, she moans, ripping through another wave of arousal, she’s growing wetter by the second its evident on the inseams of her thighs, shiny and coated. The Mandalorian shoves harshly her down again, his knee knocking hers to the side, spreading her apart, bending over her his lips and teeth find her shoulder blade and between her yearnful sounds, stuck in the darkness of the fever, she’s struggling, eyes squeezed shut.

Then sliding past all that, pushing through shuddering breaths, Mando grips her tight and sinks himself into her. Its instant relief, a fall into icy rushing water and the world becomes clear again, everything is felt differently. She’s warm and wet, every inch delved deep in her cunt is pure bliss.

“Oh-h stars—” curling, tense pressure mounts within her, she’s sensitive and trembling, he’s breaking her open, it’s everything she’d been desperate for and more. She’s writhing in his grasp, tangled in pleasure, her form caved to his touch.

The Mandalorian moans, exilariated he’s pulling back only to slam himself into her again, arms supporting him he’s leaned over her, pressing messy and wet kisses to her shoulder, sinking his teeth into her soft skin he’s forcing her to cry out, to bend at his will and crave him only more. She’s stretched, a sleek feline, muscled and curved, her knees are spread and the metal of the floor is digging into her skin, its painful but she doesnt feel it in the moment.

At a loss of words, her lips part and she’s stuck, caught in thick webs of flowing pleasure, running in hot waves through her bloodstream, her nerves and bones. The Mandalorians pace is off, deep and hard, he’s sloppy and rough.

Its a race to the edge and she finds herself taunt, her thighs tremble and she’s already close, taking it hard she covers her mouth with her hand, pushing forwards as the Mandalorians movements twist into something other than, something primal and urging on what the poison called them to do.

Her body half broken under fatigue, Mando’s strong arms grip hers and gather her up, spine curved again, her ass pressed to his hipsbones, the new angles deep and he stutters his movements, head falling tight to her shoulder, resting for only a moment.

He’s fucking her harder, messier. One arm wrapped around her chest, hand clasped with hers and the other winds around her throat, forearm pressed over her chest. Fingertips pressing to the sides of her neck, he knows just what he’s doing — right amount of pressure, the slight squeeze, it’s got her gasping and hungry for adrenaline. She curled an arm back, holding the back of his head, fingers threaded through his thick hair, soft under her palm.

“Mando, fuck you’re good,” maybe it’s the drug, maybe she’s sunk under the influence, thick with lust but each show, calculated fuck against her has her wondering why they’ve never done this sooner.

He squeezes once, a warning. “Quiet,” and that’s why, she remembers, slurring thoughts mix through her foggy mind, he’s controlling, he’s rough and merciless — but it doesn’t matter now, she’s halfway to orgasm and the calling relief is so much better than her hatred for him.

She’s trembling on the edge, the Mandalorian fucks her hard and fast, chasing after release and turning the lust into something wickedly beautiful. Each hit has her breathtaking moans, a little gift to his ears, furthering his seeping arousal. She’s tight and hot around him, fucked out at a perfect angle and lashing against his grip, then it’s all blinding and his release comes from nowhere, coating and warm inside her she’s gasping at the feel, triggering her own fall from grace.

Slow and gutteral moans, shaking breaths and molten energy, they’ve fallen on the same brink of time, waves of lighting crash through her, the heavy coil snapping, evolving into sparks of rabid pleasure. She muffes shrieks into her hand. Mando’s never come harder, so unexpectedly torturous, she’s impossibly wet around him and it’s hard to keep a grip, her thighs shake. Three more leisurely thrust, deep in her cunt has him tripping through the moment, head dropping to her shoulder, teeth gritted tight, he’s a mess and it’s wrecking him.

“Fuck,” he bites down on the swear, she shivers as he pulls away, hands releasing her throat and waist she’s shaky and not able to hold herself up. Mando doesn’t speak, his mind filled with one thing.

Through the darkness of the Crest, the thick taste of sex in the air and sounds of her intoxicating whimpers, he sinks down and helps her lie back, her form shifting under him, she’s facing him in the darkness, breathing through the aftershocks. “Holy... shit,”

“Don’t move,” chasing the trembles down her ruined form, he drops between her legs once again, dangerous hands pawing at her thighs, her knees had knocked together, tensed in the throes of pleasure but Mando’s splitting them open and burrowing his head between.

She jolts back into reality, haven drifting into some kind of post orgasmic dream. His velvet tongue slides up through her cunt, finally having a taste of her, drinking all she has to offer. Wet and heavy moans shift from his lips to her slicked cunt, his whole body is pressing forwards, rebuilding the release. She’s choking on moans, the sensitivity is on the verge of pain, tipping past pleasure. The sounds of her cunt to his lips, his nose ridged against her clit, churning out a new rush, white hot and bathed in carnality.

“Yes, oh-h my gods,” her hands fumble, her form is numb to feeling, every nerve is retracting, drowning in the new burning coals and blackened skyes. It’s ruined daylight and broken stars. It’s only been seconds after the release, and another ones building. Hot tears threaten to escape, renagade and borne by exhaustion, sensitivity; and the Mandalorians not slowing down, sinking into her begs on the edge of sin, his tongue delves deep, flicking and curling around her bud.

She’s split apart, the half on verge of passing out, the other riled up, curling her leg around his shoulder, pushing him further and fuck she’s so close, pooling warmth and the rushed feeling of tightness, the burning coil taunt. Through the darkness, she’s wretched — faces of flowers coat her vision, blinking in and out, she’s lost off the world. It builds, stacking and mounting and she can’t control it. Shuddering, her spines arched and she feels chills climb the ridges of her bones — her thighs close tight, stopped by his rough hands, pushing her open but it’s too much, the fires alit and burning through her.

His mouth slants over her cunt, closing around in a wet kiss paired with slurred words, close to her slick the Mandalorians telling her to come on his tongue, that he’s got her, he’ll work her through it and then she’s suddenly shaking — pleasure rips through her form, unbearably shocked.

“Fuck, fuck, Mando —” she’s gasping and he’s addicted to her taste, sweet and sharp on his tongue, he’s breathing deep, his tongue slip against her core and he’s fucking her slowly through her release; she’s close to sobbing, the pressures releasing ever so slowly, the motions of orgasms bend and fade, twisted in her mind and body. Her hips pressed to the ground, keeping her still, large hands gripping, tight to her scalding skin.

His lips leave her, the urges come back.

The poison — cursed pollen, exchanged sinfully through their bodies, it’s not been purged, still thick in her veins and fogging her mind, she’s gasping for air as it locks into chest.

The Mandalorian feels it, somewhere deep and dark.

They’re right back at the beginning, her thighs ache and her hands feel numb, lips bitten red and skin coloured with marks, she’s an art form of desperation and need. Through the musky darkness, his hands find her body again, she’s in a daze, staring up at the red lights above them, watching them fade and glow. She floats back to the planet, back to the ship as his lips graze her neck, fresh with anew urge of ecstasy and hands smooth over her breast.

They’re going to be there for awhile.

feedback is always appreciated!

[tags / some of these are from the previous list, please tell me if you’d like to be removed or added] @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @fantasticwizardnerd @flipping-fan-tastic @thatoneemosithlord @dontbetricked @bamfkurt @m-is-for-mischa @otherthingsinhead @christiandior @ccordiform @darlingbravebelle @aj-2187 @boogiebunnies @charlotte-solane-writes @allihave-arememories @pedro-pascal-online @iprettybirdi @toasterking @jedi-dreea @s-v-e-l-t-e @http-user-eraser @fxcastle @titahnics @captianstartights @banana-batman @biolo-tea @raveviolet @aroseamongthestars @bitchasaurus @imconfused28 @rebelwriter95 @nyashi-kaages @bigtoughswordboy @stonertokoyami @sailorflowermoon @sleepingdeath007 @gothtechie @skys-luce-stellare @missalyssx

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal imagine #star wars smut #baby yoda #cara dune

4K notes · View notes