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dreamingcloudie · 1 year

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Helloooo for the 100+ follower special could you write 8 13 and 15 for Dottore please? Thank you <3

✨️Amidst The Snow, A Flower Bloomed✨️

✎ ❛❛ Why would I ask for something else when I can have you? ❜❜

Prompts:

#8 - "I already have you, my greatest present."

#13 - "I don't need any gifts."

#15 - "I don't like holidays. I only like them when I'm with you."

Pairings(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Fluff (oneshot)

Warning(s): None!

wc: ~1.6k

Notes: omg I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting 😭 It's already WAY past Christmas :')

I honestly have no idea if it I made the right choice to try something new for this fic while my mind was hazy 💀 I was hesitant to post this but I didn't want to discard something I worked hours on either. It felt like it gradually becomes a mess, my apologies. I'm still learning :')

P.s: If you want to, please feel free to send in another ask, I'll make it up to you with hopefully a better one 🥲

How do you grow a flower?

For a seed to grow into a stem, it needs to be coated in nutritious soil; for a stem to grow supple leaves, it needs to be watered daily; for sepals to release the caged delicate petals, it needs to bask in the warmth of the sun.

But how can one bloom all of the way, when it was buried deep amidst the baneful snow?

He, a man of enigma who scorned the skies, pledged to the Tsaritsa was his words to topple the heavens. A cruel harbinger who was known for his immoral ideology to create a mortal greater than the gods, naturally, none would dare to approach him.

But then you appeared.

You, so captivating, so vibrant, so full of colors and bright. Day by day, you’d unknowingly smitten him with your boisterous self. The way you’d laugh when he spilled coffee all over him; the way your brows would furrow in concentration as you worked on the task he gave you; the way your face would lit up when he brought up a topic you liked.

Just like a flower craved for the sun. He craved for you.

He was frustrated, his mind was constantly thinking of you. Only you.

Just what have you done to him? Did you plant a parasite in his brain without him knowing? No matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t figure out what this anomaly was that plagued his mind.

In the sea full of Fatui staff who attended the annual banquet in celebration of Christmas, he couldn’t help but the sight of you laughing and talking with one of the other harbingers—Pantalone, left a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand that was gripping a glass of wine subconsciously tightened when the ninth landed a kiss on the back of your hand.

He was eventually broken out of his trance when his heart skipped a beat as a voice he knew all too well spoke.

“Hey, you okay?”

You were just talking to Lord Pantalone about how he was going to go bankrupt if your boss kept on asking him for more funds when out of the corner of your eye, you could see Dottore was stiff, his hand shaking ever so slightly. So, as his loyal assistant, you decided to go check on him and excuse yourself from Pantalone.

Now you stood before his very eyes, they automatically moved up and down to take in your form. Oh how enthralling you looked, your Fatui uniform didn’t do you any justice. Thankfully, he had his mask on so you couldn’t see what he was doing.

After a few seconds of him staying silent, he managed to compose himself and gave you his infamous smirk.

“Why of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, Doctor. You just seem… tense today,” you told him.

Ah, he didn’t think you’d notice. Then again, you were the only assistant who could keep up with him.

“Well, I suppose I’m not used to being in a venue filled with so many people,” he said, twirling the wine glass.

You were skeptical, but given that he was your superior, you didn’t question him.

"Let's move to the balcony then," you suggested.

And he nodded, giving you his approval.

As the two of you navigated through the doors that lead to a balcony, the muffled sound of music coming from the ball room turned into a softer tune.

Looking back at Dottore, you extended your hand to him and asked, "Shall we?"

You? Asking him to dance with you?

His breath hitched at your invitation.

Why were you making him feel like this?

He was taking too long to reply and you were eager to have this dance with him, so you put yourselves into a waltz position, without waiting for him.

"My, what a bold move. Since when were you the one to make decisions?" He said, trying to distract himself from how warm his face has gotten at the close proximity shared between you two. Even with his mask on, he was almost certain you could see it too.

"Well, Doctor, you've been working a lot lately and your shoulders are still tense. So I thought a little dance would help you lose up a little." You replied, putting one of your hands on his shoulder.

"Still, it was my call to make." Despite saying that, he didn't move his hand that was placed around your waist.

There the both of you swayed gently to the music. As you started at each other, it felt as if you were in a fairytale. With only the moon as your audiance and spolight, the charming prince and an elegant royalty danced to their heart's content.

He didn't even care about the pain that sent through his foot when you accidentally stepped on it, muttering an apology and smiling at him.

That smile... that darn smile that his mind wouldn't stop thinking of. How would it feel to wake up to that sight every morning?

Oh, what a foreign feeling it was.

He hated it. He hated that he loved it. He hated that he loved you.

Love...

So that's what it was.

Of all the feelings he could've felt, it had to be the one he had the least knowledge of. But it made him feel so warm. A warmth that he was addicted to.

As the two of you danced, you'd notice how his smirk turned into a content smile.

What was he thinking? You wondered.

"You're someone who's not fond of holidays, but here you are enjoying yourself," you teased.

"You're absolutely correct." He chuckled.

"I don't like holidays. I only like them when I'm with you." He blurted out without thinking.

Upon hearing what he just said, the both of you froze.

Did… did he…?

He coughed, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I…pardon, I—"

"Dottore, do you really mean what you said?"

Were you mad at him? He wouldn't doubt it if you were, who would want to love someone who was insane like him?

But his worries slowly melted away when you placed your hand on his cheek. Not once did you rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to say something. Anything.

And finally, he spoke.

"Of course."

It was now or never.

He took both of your hands with his and brought it to his chest. You could feel just how fast his heart was beating.

"Of course I mean it, (Y/n), you make me feel… indescribable feelings. As much as I hate to admit it, I am unable to deduce as to why I feel this way. However, one thing I do know is that your existence simply entranced me and that I… I love you," he confessed, bringing your hands up to meet his lips.

"So, how would you like to do a little experiment with me? To explore these new feelings with me? Together?"

You were baffled, never in your wildest dreams would you ever thought he'd feel this way.

That he'd feel the same.

You were worried that your feelings for him would be unrequited. But here he was, a man you thought devoid of love, was standing right before you. Asking you to be his.

His stomach was starting to twist and turn at your lack of response, but it all ceased when you lifted his mask up enough to lean in and connect your lips with his.

His lips were softer than it looked, you thought. As you pulled away, you could feel the heat spreading on your cheeks and a silly grin made its way to your face.

"I will take that you accepted my proposal then."

Before you was also a smiling Doctor, showing off his pointy teeth that you oh so adored as you giggled.

"Oh right! I almost forgot," you exclaimed, rummaging through your pocket.

To your horror, you weren't able to find what you were looking for.

"Oh, no, no no." You were starting to panic now. Where was it?!

Facing Dottore once more, he could see you furrowed your eyebrows, your lips turned upside down. He was confused, however, as to why you were down.

“What's the matter, dear?”

“Since it was Christmas, I’ve prepared a present for you. But it looks like I’ve forgotten to bring it due to how busy I've been lately,” you explained. And you were looking forward to see his reaction too...

A present? Why would he want some objects that held no value to him when you finally became his? And what more could he ask for when you’ve already given him so much?

He was once buried beneath the snow, but then you emerged from the horizons. With tenderness as your shovel, you dug your way through layers and layers of snow. And him, was the forlorn seed you found.

You, the radiant sun that shined the brightest in his sky. You, the inferno that melted the snow around him. You, the shield that protected him from harsh winds.

Haven't you done so much for him already?

Placing both of his hands on your cheeks.

“I don’t need any gifts.” He said, softly stroking your face.

“Do you know why?” Taking his mask off, he leaned his forehead against yours as you lost yourself in his mesmerizing crimson irises.

“I already have you, my greatest present.”

With your tender care, up until this moment, a seed that everyone thought was fated to wilt in the snow.

Now, was a flower that finally bloomed.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x yn #dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #genshin dottore #il dottore #fatui harbinger #fatui #fatui harbinger x reader #✨️-[100Specials]-✨️

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lavenderdreams22 · 2 years

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Only Yours - Fenrys x Fem!Reader

Request: Can you write spicy smut with reader x fenrys moonbeam? 😘 & Fenrys moonbeam fic? - Anonymous

A/N: Hello!! Thank you for requesting this. It's my first time writing and posting smut, so please go easy on me lol. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing, Smut (18+, Minors DNI). Mentions of violence towards the beginning, and some male possessiveness.

You stood on the deck, watching the sparring match across from you, trying not to let the rocking of the boat make you nauseous. You were never one for long treks across the sea, but Fenrys had always had a way with words, especially where you were concerned, and it didn't take long for him to convince you. He wanted you close to him, and ever since you had realized that the bond between you was stronger than just shared trauma, you were inclined to agree. Being closer to him made you feel whole and safe. Not to mention that any time he was away, you barely slept at all. You would sit up all night worrying about him, wondering if he was in any kind of trouble.

“What’s got you so tense?” Aelin asked, bumping you with her shoulder.

“Not a fan of boats.” You mumbled, “Trying not to be sick.”

“Ah.” She nodded, following your gaze to a half naked Fenrys and Gavriel, who were now circling each other, looking for an opening. “What could have made you decide to join us?”

You glanced over at her, and were met with a knowing smirk. You rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your lips anyway.

“Fenrys asked really nicely.” You shot Aelin a wink, “And who am I to deny him what he wants?”

“Such a good mate you are.” She cooed. “We all know you deny him nothing. The walls are very thin.”

“I could say the same for you and Rowan, your majesty.”

The two of you grinned at each other for a moment, causing Aedion to pause as he passed.

“Should I be worried about another brawl starting over here, as well?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nothing to worry about, Aedion.” Aelin waved him off, “We are just talking this time.”

Aelin had taken a liking to you for many reasons, but the biggest was because of your proficiency with a blade. You had been training since you were very young, and when Fenrys had brought you over from Doranelle, the two of you had immediately clicked. Well, the two of you immediately fought, and then, eventually, you clicked. It seemed as though you were either laughing together or at each other’s throats. It definitely kept all of your friends, new and old, on their toes as they tried to navigate your dynamic.

Aedion only nodded, both to you and his Queen, and as a signal to the other side of the ship that everything was okay. With a quick glance up, you realized that Fenrys and Gavriel had stopped fighting, and were now watching you and Aelin. Rowan, though in Hawk form, watched from atop one of the sails. You could practically see the humor lighting his eyes from here.

You shot Fenrys a smile that you hoped said “everything is fine, my love”. He only nodded in return, something flickering in his eyes before turning back to Gavriel. With a nod, the two returned to their circling.

“Territorial Fae bastards.” Aelin muttered, and you giggled together as she threw her arm over your shoulder and led you to the side of the ship, “Let’s talk over here. Just in case you get sick.”

*****

“You should have seen the way they were all watching the two of you.” Fenrys chuckled, shooting you a look over his shoulder as he pulled his boots off.

“Too much testosterone. We need to get more females aboard.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “As Aelin so fondly regards you all, Territorial Fae bastards.”

“I’m sure the others wouldn’t argue about bringing more females.” Fenrys stood, crossing the room in two large steps. “But I'm not sure that anyone would agree that it was territorial bullshit. Not when it comes to the two of you. Do you not remember last summer?”

“Maybe then, they could stop ogling Aelin and me.” You smirked up at him as a possessive rage flitted across his eyes. “And how could I forget? We sunk the ship. Though, I think that was faulty construction.”

“Hold on, who has been ogling you?” Fenrys asked through gritted teeth.

“No one that interests me.” You shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, because I will kick their asses.” He said, pulling you flush against his body by your waist.

“So quick to resort to violence.” You scolded, humor still lighting your voice. “Why would you want to fight a friend when you could use that extra energy on something else?”

“What else could you possibly mean?” He asked as he began to move. His hand came to cradle the back of your head as he pushed you roughly against the wall. “I think that protecting your honor is the best use of my time.”

His body was now caging you in, and your breath hitched in your throat as he pressed soft kisses down the column of your throat.

“My honor is thoroughly protected.” You said, but your voice shook a bit, betraying your attempt at confidence. “Aelin is right, you are a territorial Fae bastard.”

He smirked against your skin, and your knees went weak, as they often did when Fenrys touched you like this. He spread your legs with one of his, pressing his thigh against your core through your skirt. You let out a sigh at the friction as he sucked at the place where your neck met your shoulder.

“I have wanted nothing more than to have you like this all day.” He said, “Couldn’t wait to get back here so I could show you exactly how much I love you. And then, when I thought you and Aelin were going to fight… I wanted to throw you over my shoulder right then.”

“You should have.” You lifted your arms as he tugged your top off. “I am yours, Fenrys. Forever.”

He let out a low growl at that, the wolf in him finally paying you a visit. “Say that again.” His voice was rough, and a shiver ran down your spine.

“I am yours, Fenrys. Only yours. Forever.” You said, running your hands down his chest.

He threw his head back and groaned, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You ran your hands lower, palming him through his pants. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in your scent. “Yeah, that’s definitely part of it.”

“We better hurry, or we’ll be late for dinner.” Your voice was soft, but it held an edge of challenge.

“Screw dinner, I’m taking my time with you.” He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow, your tongues exploring each other. You barely registered that he was moving until your back hit the mattress. His hands were roaming the exposed skin of your sides and stomach as his lips pressed to your neck.

Reaching behind you, he unclasped your bra, tossing it to a corner of the room, and you were sure you’d curse him for it later. He always had a way of losing your undergarments. He pulled back a moment to look at you, and you resisted the urge to cover your chest with your arms. You always felt shy at this part, and no matter how many times the two of you had sex, he always made sure to admire you.

“Gods, you are so beautiful.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you smiled at him as he trailed a finger over your lips and cheeks.

“As are you, my love.” You moved your hands up his thighs as you squirmed beneath him, and he grinned down at your hand, sentimentality gone in a blink of an eye.

“Need me to touch you, Y/N?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours once again.

“Yes, Fenrys. Need you to touch me.” You nodded.

He kissed each collar bone then, trailing kisses until he reached your breasts. He took a few moments with each one, sucking and biting at one nipple, squeezing the other between two fingers before switching. His other hand trailed down to your skirt, hiking it up to your waist so that his hands could roam the expanse of your thighs.

With each moan he pulled from your lips, his hand trailed a bit higher, and you could feel your arousal pooling in your panties. When his hand finally reached where you needed him most, he traced tantalizing circles over your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“Already so wet for me, baby?” He asked, pulling away from your breasts to meet your eyes. “Do you like that?”

You looked down at him through your lashes, nodding slightly. Your mouth parted and a blush dusting your cheeks. His grip on your breast tightened, only slightly, but you sighed. His eyes darkened as he watched your face, his fingers dipping below your panties, trailing his finger through your slick before turning his attention to your clit once again. You ground your hips down onto his fingers, biting your lip as you kept eye contact.

“Answer me, baby. Do you like that?” He asked again, slowing the movement of his fingers.

“Yes, Fenrys. I love it.” You replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, pretty girl.” He gave you a grin that sent heat straight to your core, and he started kissing your stomach as he continued teasing your clit with his fingers. Pulling your panties to the side, he watched you before he dipped his head down, letting his tongue trail over your abdomen before he finally let his tongue circle your clit.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” You moaned.

He returned your moan with a quick bite to the inside of your thigh, marking you, before returning your attention to your clit. His fingers moved to your entrance, pushing in slowly. Your back arched off of the mattress at the feeling of his finger moving inside of you.

Fenrys always knew exactly what you needed without you ever having to tell him. When you started to grind your hips into his face, he entered another finger, never removing his lips from you. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name.

A white hot tension began to build in your stomach, and you moved your hips faster, chasing your high.

“You’re close.” He said. It wasn’t a question but you nodded in response anyway. “Cum for me, beautiful.” He returned to licking and sucking at your clit until the tension in your stomach snapped and you were cumming on his fingers.

Once the aftershocks of your orgasm dissipated, you flipped him onto his back. You stood, pulling your skirt and panties off and throwing them onto the floor. He watched you, his hands behind his head. You pulled his pants off, and pressed kisses to his thighs. He slowly brushed your hair out of your face, collecting it into a messy ponytail at the back of your head as you made your way up his body.

With one quick movement, you took all of him into your throat, gagging a little bit on his length.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “Can’t do this for long, I want to finish inside of you.”

You grabbed hold of the base of his cock, running your tongue up the length of him as he gripped the sheets. You wrapped your lips around him again, bobbing your head a few more times before you pulled away. He sighed at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going too far.” You smiled down at him as you moved to straddle his waist. He grabbed hold of your hips, helping you to grind down onto him.

“You want to be inside of me that badly?” You cooed, reaching down and lining him up with your entrance.

“Fuck,” He groaned, his body going tense as he tried not to thrust up into you.

“Tell me what you want, my love.” You sunk down a little, letting the tip slip inside of you.

“Stop teasing me, Y/N.” He growled.

“Then tell me what it is that you want.” You pulled yourself off of him again, and he mustered up his best glare.

“I want that pretty little pussy of yours wrapped around me.” He ground out, his voice hoarse. “I want to fuck you.”

“What’s the magic word?” You sunk down again, this time letting a couple of inches of him inside of you.

“Please?” He was starting to lose his patience. The thought excited you.

“Please, what?” You asked, pulling him out of you again.

“For the love of…” He was moving in a moment, throwing you back on the bed. Your body bounced for a moment, and then he was hovering over you again. You giggled at the simmering frustration in his eyes.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. “No more teasing.” He licked the side of your neck before eyeing you for a moment, waiting for your consent. Always the gentleman.

“Please, Fenrys. Fuck me.”

That was all he needed to hear. A noise between a whine and a growl fell from his lips, and then he was pumping himself a few times as he lined up with your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” He asked.

When you nodded, he sunk into you. You clung to him as a satisfied moan left your lips. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead and cheeks before you nodded to him again, signaling him to move.

He pulled out a bit, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders as he snapped his hips into yours.

“Gods, you are so fucking perfect.” He grunted out, each word accentuated by another thrust into you.

His dick hit your g-spot perfectly, causing your mouth to open in a silent cry, and your legs to shake. He reaches down to circle your clit again, hoping to draw another orgasm out of you before he finishes. He resists the urge to pin your hands above your head the way he normally did because the way that your hands were grabbing at his arms and chest, the way your nails were marking him, only brought his release closer and closer.

You gasp, shuddering underneath him. Your eyes screw shut as you feel the coil tighten inside of you again.

“Want to finish with you.” You gasp out.

He groans, but speeds up his thrusts, your pussy squeezing him in the best way. He is always so amazed at how incredible you feel.

A few more thrusts and you’re both coming undone. He collapses on top of you, his cock twitched with his release inside of you as your body shudders with your own.

“That was the best sex we have ever had.” He said, rolling off of you.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, but he pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

“You say that every time.” You giggled, “We should get ready to go to dinner.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“In a few minutes.” He pulled the blanket over the two of you, his eyes fluttering closed. “Wanna just be with you for a minute.”

You smiled, cuddling into his side. He was right, dinner could wait. As his fingers traced shapes onto your bare hip, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. You weren’t that hungry anyway.

#requested #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam smut #fenrys x you #fenrys moonbeam x you

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sparky-is-spiders · 9 months

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More of my TMA Somewhere Else is Dredge AU. Mostly just random stuff that isn’t enough to make a whole post all on its own. There’s no order to these btw it’s literally just whatever came to mind. (Also Jon uses any/all pronouns because I like projecting)

- Jon takes statements from people in the Dredgeverse. Back before she accepted the Greater Marrow angler job offer these were always encounters with the fears as they slowly sank their teeth into this new world, but once she moved she found that encounters with the fears were much, much rarer. Statements about the sea are still filling, however. Plenty of terror and new information to be found there.

- Jon really likes chatting with the traveling merchant. She’s seen a lot, so it’s a good way for him to learn about this world. He doesn’t want to take a statement from her (he’s sure she has many, but she might be the closest thing he has to a friend here (he doesn’t even know her name) and it would be a massive pain to constantly be going back and fourth between Greater Marrow and the other four regions). Her stories usually just contain enough scraps of information (and sometimes fear) that they can serve as a very light snack.

- Sometimes aberrations are the only things they catch in a day. Sometimes Jon will see dark shapes in the water, to big and malformed to be any of the regular fish native to the area. Sometimes they are out on the water, alone, and something is watching them. He Knows it is not Beholding.

- Jon thinks that the Eye would tell them the quickest route back to where they came from, would tell them exactly how to navigate to avoid monsters and dangerous storms. They know they could leave but they don't think they will. They need to stay. They need to know.

- Jon spends AGES trying to figure out what’s so special about the dark stone pillars. When she realizes that they grant her visions (but only if she’s frightened enough) she decides to visit all of them (at night, when the fog is thick and the fear is strongest).

- After getting a camera from the photographer, Jon tries to get pictures of the monsters. She nearly gets her boat sunk about a hundred times in the process, but finds that the benefits of being able to study them from multiple angles for as long as she wants outweighs the terror and cost of repairs.

- Got a LOT of thoughts about how the collector could play into this tbh. I don’t want to get into specifics for spoiler reasons but I can give some general thoughts:

Dude's just some guy who wanted cursed relics. Met Jon and instantly went: "They look like a magnet for The Horrors" and decided to hire them on the spot.

Dude is Elias. I feel like Elias wouldn't have too much trouble fitting into the role, and I like him well enough to actually want to include him in this au. That being said, I don't know if my grasp of the character is solid enough for me to explore the idea, and I like the idea of Jon, whose only remaining connection is the eldritch fear god they serve, having nobody and nothing in the already lonely and isolating world of Dredge.

It's Dredgeverse Jon. The collector is the Jon who was born here, and whose fascination with the sea and the supernatural drew them to this place, where they're sure all the answers they seek lie waiting, just below the surface of the water. Raises all sorts of questions I don't have answers to about who else has versions of themselves living in the Dredgeverse (if any at all) but also fascinates me.

The collector is any/all of these but also a mouthpiece for the entity that lurks in these waters (whether he knows it or not). I think dipping into these ideas any further would cross into spoiler territory, and while I think knowing the full story can really enhance the experience, I also think it's best played blind the first time. If you have the money to drop on it please do check it out, I promise it's so worth it.

Okay these are all my thoughts (for now). I'm sure I'll have more soon. Jon and Dredge both occupy massive portions of my brain all the time. However for now I need to try and get trophies for every regular fish (and possibly also the abberations, might be fun trying to spend a full in-game year just fishing).

#on the one hand I want to spoil some Dredge stuff #on the other hand I don't want to spoil anything just in case someone who sees this post decides to play the game.#I should probably come up with a name for this au #can't think of anything rn tho #anyway now onto the regular tags #tma #tma au #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #dredge #dredge game

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 2 years

Text

That one particular Artstation post has come back to haunt me. Here’s a Ko-fi request as part of a long running joke. Someone help me.

"So why is this being brought to my attention specifically?"

"Why? Not enjoying the art?" Sarah smirks down at him while they stand a ways away from the image in question, brightly emblazoned on the side of a pelican's nose. There's a crowd forming as passersby slow to get a glimpse at what is causing all the commotion. The hangar is more crowded than usual and it’s not hard to tell why.

"It's technically your jurisdiction since the...subject is a member of the command crew." She continues, resting her hands on her hips before barking at some IVs to get moving. The Spartans in question duck and hurry on their way, parting the sea of bodies but not doing anything to stem the tide of curiosity and rubbernecking.

Lasky sighs and drags his hand down his face. "Don't sound so pleased that this didn't fall on you. Have we found who's responsible?"

"Not yet, cameras had a blindspot for this part of the hangar and no one's claimed to be the mystery artist yet."

"Really, and no one knows anything? No one?"

Tom is tired. There are a hundred other things that currently require his attention and are waiting on his desk, but this was apparently important enough that he needed to see it with his own eyes.

And well...it sure was something.

Marines loved finding different ways to express themselves and pilots were a special breed. The Infinity hadn't been to Earth long enough for any real amount of shore leave and it had been a tough deployment, so he probably should have expected something as people searched for outlets.

Still he expected nose art of a different flavor on the pelican, wouldn't Cortana have made a better choice? Not that he would ever voice it where anyone could hear, especially not Chief.

"Roland," He calls and looks over at the nearest holodisk as the AI deploys his avatar. He hasn't gotten the Ship AI to weigh in on the situation yet because it's a minefield he'd been trying to avoid. Lasky wets his lips and then opens his mouth to speak, pauses, and then finds the words he's looking for to navigate the conversation, "Did you find anything out about our mystery artist?"

"Well, other than the artistic liberties they took depicting me, they were smart or at least well prepared. I didn't see anything and logs for this hangar don't show any sign of tampering."

"Artistic liberties?" Sarah goads with a poorly hidden smile and Lasky's frown deepens as her eyes flicker knowingly to his and then away as she encourages Roland to speak. "I don't know, I think it could be seen as tasteful."

"Commander Palmer!" Roland gasps with faux shock and Lasky rolls his eyes and checks his watch. "I know you're used to working with Spartans and everything that entails, but I would never! That's too much skin showing and I like my layers."

He tugs on the straps of his parachute harness to prove his point.

"Didn't know you were so shy about what's under the pilot get-up. The six-pack abs not doing it for you?" Sarah says, gesturing back to the art that seems to be glowing under the lights. Lasky is in hell, his coworkers are killing him. Sarah spares him another look as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There's a headache forming as he looks at the offending art again, which he's going to have to document and report on. Lasky is in hell, and it’s come in the form of saucy nose art of his ship’s AI. Why did everything have to happen once he became captain?

"That's what I meant by artistic liberties," He says crossing his arms, "and they got my nose wrong!"

Lasky sighs.

"And that's not even mentioning the title." Roland continues.

Lasky sighs again, loudly. He is ignored.

"Randy Roland? Come on, surely they could have thought of something a bit more...je ne sais quoi."

“Uh huh.”

“What do you think, Captain?” Roland and Palmer sport matching grins as they turn to look at him.

“I think I need a drink.”

Again, credit to Edward Meek on Artstation. He also did a Cortana one.

#my writing #Roland the ai #Thomas Lasky #Sarah Palmer #this is not a halo blog #this is so goofy #halo fanfic #comm examples

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kelmcdonald · 1 year

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Failure to Launch Crowdfund is Launching!

This is crossposted with my newsletter. Sign up for it here!

Hi everyone. Hope you all had a good January. Lots of things coming up this month!

Firstly, as the title says Failure to Launch's crowdfunding has gone live. Failure to Launch is a light-hearted, educational tour of (so far!) unrealized technological and societal advances promised in years past, but which never came to be. What could have been, but wasn't. It tells the tales of planned utopias in space, wild inventions, attempts to improve society, robot pets, and predictions of armageddon! History is often written by the winners, but this time join us in spotlighting those who didn't let failure stop their dreams. I edited it and drew a story. My story is titled Paradise Within the Reach of All Men. It's written by Ryan North and io9 posted a sample!

Later toward the end of the month, I'm doing a live reading of Fame and Misfortune. It will be Saturday February 25th at noon PST on my twitch. Some friends will be playing different roles. Then I'll answer some reader questions after the reading. Post any questions you got to this public patreon post.

Also while not in February, it's early enough in March that I wanted to mention it now. March 2nd-5th I'll be at Emerald City Comic Con. They haven't sent a map yet, but I'll try to post it in March's newsletter.

The full moon was yesterday, so I didn't get this out in time. But we watched Wolf Children. The next few moon is March 6/7. I'll probably do the movie on March 7th since I'll be driving back from ECCC on the 6th. Either way please join the discord so you don't miss the next full moon movie night.

As always I'll be streaming art on Twitch. My schedule is currently the following:

Tuesday 8pm-10pm PST

Wednesday 8pm-10pm PST

Thursday 6pm-9pm PST (during the Iron Circus Geekshow)

As for last month, what you might have missed is You are the Chosen One is back to updating on Patreon. I posted a PDF catch up for folks, because I know Patreon isn't great for catching up on reading comics. Also, The City Between has a new storyline starting. It's up early on my Patreon, but will start posting on my website this month.

This past month I did my best to work on Meredith McClarren and I's graphic novel Blue Moon. I'm behind on writing it because I've been a little buried with editorial work for Iron Circus and Seven Seas. A lot of my free time this month will go to trying to finish that one up.

On the editorial front, I'm putting the finishing touches on Failure to Launch. I'm also getting the ball rolling on a new anthology about committing crimes. It's called Perfect Crime Party. That will be fun to get the ball rolling on. At Seven Seas I'm editing the manga for one of my favorite recent animes, Life of an Ordinary Guy reincarnated as a Fantasy Knockout. It's a very funny parody of fantasy books and romantic comedies. I recommend checking it out the anime or the manga once it's out.

Staying on top of all that and exercising every morning has been pretty rough. But it's getting easier. I had trouble sticking with it after SDCC and ECCC being so close together last year. So doing Emerald City Comic Con will be the test on if I can stick with it. I've mostly been watching stuff while on the treadmill. Here's stuff I watched and read this month

My Love Mix Up vol 6 by Wataru Hinekure and Aruko - I mentioned this in my newsletter a year ago. But My Love Mix Up is one of my favorite regular reads. It's very cute. The bisexual main character starts the series with trying to figure out his feelings for two crushes (one guy and one girl). Now that it's been going on awhile the series has moved on to the main character navigating dating another guy. I like it because the character conflicts are mostly about them figuring out their own feelings rather than miscommunication. I find people needing that time and space to sort out their feelings and thoughts really appealing. Like the love interest is dating the main character and hasn't had a crush or feelings for anyone before. He sometimes comes off as detached or disinterested in they relationship. So compared to the heart on his sleeve main character, the conflict doesn't need miscommunication. Because if someone needs time and space, that's a conflict that can only be resolved with said space and time.

The Night Eaters by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda - I picked this up because I like Monstress by the same creative team. The art is beautiful just like Monstress. Currently, I think I prefer Monstress because that hit the ground running. But The Night Eaters was mostly setting things up for the series. The main characters are twins that don't understand their immigrant mother. They have a good dynamic and I like their back and forth as they learn their family's supernatural secrets. I'm gonna grab volume 2 and maybe now that groundwork is laid it will really knock volume 2 out of the park.

Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire - This is the newest volume of The Wayward Children Series. If you don't know it, the series follows kids that had a portal fantasy adventure and came back. Mostly the kids are called to their respective fantasy worlds because those worlds fix the kid better. I always like this series and end up grabbing the book the day it comes out. This one follows a girl who ends up in an in-between world which is where lost things magically end up. It is better for her because her home life has gone to hell and it's a sanctuary for her. She doesn't realize what she is giving up to stay though. It has some good thoughts and observations about how people treat children. All the Wayward Children protagonists have rough home life, but this one starts especially rough.

Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio - I loved this version of Pinocchio. I always like Del Toro's designs and the stop motion animation was lovely. I especially liked the design for Death.

Watership Down Mini Series - I also watched the Watership Down Mini Series that came out a few years ago. While the acting was good, I think it feel for the trap that happens a lot with cg animation. They rabbits look too realistic and that kinda robs them of personality. The visuals didn't really sell the horror of the book or the old 2nd movie.

First Kill - This and the next thing on this list made me think about how quickly netflix cancels stuff extremely quickly. If you aren't familiar with it, First Kill is the teen lesbain vampire romance series they put out last summer and quickly canceled. It follows a vampire and a vampire hunter who fall for each other while their families are fighting one another. It is EXTREMELY bad and not in a fun way. The whole show is very poorly thought out and seems slapped together. While it wants you to think Romeo and Juliet with the two leads, it is established that after being bit a human becomes devoted to a vampire. So one member of those pair has their freewill compromised. It is then brushed aside. And the vampire girl doesn't want to kill, but is told she has to. Why? Well, she just has to. We see other vampires feed from willing donors and not kill them, but it's never established why she can't just do that. The vampire also has to keep keep the fact that she is a vampire secret but then it turns out the whole world already knows about vampires. I could go on, but all the examples of what's wrong can be summed up as a lack of thought being put in to anything. And at the end of the day it's also boring. I can only imagine how frustrating it would be to think you were getting gay version of Buffy or True Blood and instead getting this.

That 90s Show - I watched a lot of That 70s Show as a teen. And I've been watching a youtuber named Jose do retrospectives of different sitcoms. After watching the That 70s Show one, I decided to check out That 90s Show. Overall, That 90s Show is just okay. I think the new teen actors have a decent chemistry, are unique, and their jokes are funny. But they don't really have time to explore/find their feet. Way too much time is spent on cameos for the cast of That 70s Show. The set up for the show is that Donna and Eric's daughter Leia is spending the summer with her grandparents Red and Kitty. So Donna and Eric being in the first episode as well as Red and Kitty all fit in the show fine. But the problem comes up when it turns out the single mom next door is dating Fez and her landlord is the guy Fez had a rivalry with. So now instead of sticking with the teen main characters, we are spending all this time rehashing Fez's joke from That 70s Show. And when Leia likes a boy with the last name Kelso, both Jackie and Micheal invade Kitty and Red's kitchen to repeat their usual fight. Something like this happens once per episode. And it's a shame because I think the teen characters holding their own would have better served the show. It left me wondering what season 2 would be like, but since it's on Netflix it will most likely never get that chance.

Watching all those sitcom retrospectives and listening to the Always Sunny Podcast (the crew of always sunny are rewatching their old episodes). It made me think about how sitcoms usually don't find their feet until season 2. Nearly all the shows we think of as changing the landscape of television had poor ratings the first season. Sitcoms rarely have complicated premises and live or die on the chemistry of their cast. And you don't know what does and doesn't work until you actually make a couple of episodes. While dramas/dramadies are also in a rough place in a landscape where things either take off immediately or get canceled, seems like sitcoms are getting get the worst of this cancel happy time period we are currently in. That's just something that's been on my mind lately, especially when shows I really like such as Inside Job have ended up on the chopping block. Thanks everyone! Have a good month and thanks again for your support. I'm gonna start doing an art round up after each newsletter. So enjoy and have a good one.

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cassieb1617 · 1 year

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ABOUT ME

NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

Hello everyone! I‘m Cassie, my pronouns are she/her and I‘m 21. I come from Germany so English is not my first language, my zodiac sign is Sagittarius and my Hogwarts house is Slytherin. I‘m also a big Marvel and Harry Potter nerd which is what this blog is about.

I, at first, made this blog to read fanfiction about my favourite Harry Potter characters but then decided to write some of them myself, later on I began watching the Marvel movies and started writing for my favourite MCU characters as well.

All the gifs I use are not mine unless specifically stated, they are taken from Pinterest or from here on Tumblr. You can see the original gif-maker when you tap on the light grey name under the gif on the right side. The pictures like the header image in my navigation are nace by me and my divider as well.

Please be kind when you send stuff into my inbox, I don‘t tolerate stuff like discrimination, hate, bullying etc. I don‘t want any of works plagiarized, copied republished somewhere that‘s not my account or translated. My works are only on Tumblr and my Wattpad.

I ask you to read the warnings in the works and to not interact with the post if one of the warnings is MDNI [minors do not interact] or 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption so I will not be held responsible when something triggers you that has been mentioned in the warnings.

A little disclaimer: neither the Harry Potter universe nor the Marvel Universe belongs to me. Everything that you read is purely fictional!

In my earlier fics I used (y/n) but later on stopped using it. All my readers are female or gender neutral and I won‘t write male readers. Please respect that. I try not to describe the reader‘s features like eye colour, skin colour, etc so everyone feels included, inform me if something is incorrect (unless specifically given e.g. gamer!reader).

Some helpful tags may be:

#[insert your character‘s name]

#gamer!reader

#camgirl!reader

#[insert your character‘s name] x reader

#cassie‘s masterlist

#fic rec

Please block this hashtags if you don‘t want to see this topics/fics:

#smut

#camgirl!reader

#camgirl au

#marvel

#harry potter

!To see the 18+ fics you‘ll have to change your community labels!

The characters I write for:

Harry Potter:

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Regulus Black

Lily Evans

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Hermione Granger

Ginny Weasley

Marvel:

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Pietro Maximoff

Wanda Maximoff

Natasha Romanoff

Misc:

Chris Evans

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Billy Loomis (Scream 1996)

Stu Macher (Scream 1996)

Sam Carpenter (Scream V)

Amber Freeman (Scream V)

#About me #cassie‘s about me

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lovecraftian-lolita · 1 year

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I posted 1,118 times in 2022

That's 253 more posts than 2021!

290 posts created (26%)

828 posts reblogged (74%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kumacherry

@lovecraftian-lolita

@lolitainspirations

@lolitahime

@meltysky

I tagged 999 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#q - 628 posts

#pochacco posts - 268 posts

#plus size fashion - 227 posts

#plus size - 225 posts

#lolita - 178 posts

#plus size lolita - 173 posts

#reblog - 146 posts

#dress - 111 posts

#sweet lolita - 72 posts

#jsk - 70 posts

Longest Tag: 88 characters

#yall really push my boundaries and i can’t even fully block you because it’s a side blog

My Top Posts in 2022:

I hate doing this but I am a black college student and I am required to have this textbook but I can't afford it. It has the access code I need for my class and without it I'll be dropped and I've been trying to get into this course for two years now. The textbook costs about 120$ and I am pretty broke. If anyone wants to send me some tips it would be extremely appreciated. I'm hoping Tumblr doesn't suppress this.

Ko-Fi: https://href.li/?https://ko-fi.com/rhythmloid

P@yP@l: [email protected]

Any amount would help! I know it's a bit pitiful to ask for help getting a textbook but for me, it's extremely important, I will absolutely fall behind if I don't complete this course.

66 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

I wanted to make a small post saying it’s ok to alter brand pieces so they fit you better! For plus size Lolita’s especially, you purchased the piece with your money so you can do as you see fit! If you adore that angelic pretty dress or btssb dress don’t be afraid to find someone to professionally alter your dress! If you have the ability, alter it yourself! You deserve to feel comfortable and to not limit yourself to a few prints. It may cost extra and take extra time but you deserve to wear your dream prints and deserve to have something that fits in your wardrobe!!! If you have the opportunity take it!!!

72 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

Calling All Plus Size Lolitas!

I announced this a few posts ago but I am now currently looking for 4-5 helpers in helping me archive plus-size friendly brand pieces like APor BTSSB in a large spreadsheet to share with everyone! It s a pretty large project so I will need some extra help! If you are willing to help research and archive as many dresses as possible please DM me and I can give you more details! I will update this post as slots fill up for helpers!

*You must be good at using google spreadsheets and are able to navigate and edit the spreadsheet without much trouble, as well as add graphs and other pieces of data

Helpers: **CLOSED**

92 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

THE SPREADSHEET IS DONE!

Thank you everyone for their patience!!! We will still be updating it but for now it is open to the public! Thank you everyone!!

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1LGK5sNftNk8kvGKdgxXVk23QN2LhakLAQu4V7-wVN8s/edit

Be sure to spread this around!

125 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Some of my favorite Lolita YouTubers~

Lolita YouTubers need some love, a TON of accounts only have a couple thousand if even that. I think that we should really start watching more lolita YouTuber channels and supporting others in the community, especially when they give advice or their own perspective as a member of the fashion! So here’s a list of some of my favorites

Sea Princess Selkie

CandyCarnival

MagicalGirlMe/Callista

Merry Moons

PinkFakeFlowers

Dodo the Extinct

Pearlie Cute

Sweet Bunny Blushes

Asami Moon

Miya No

Eternallyenchanted

Diamond the Storm

Juno the Wunder

All of the people I have listed have under 9k subs and some barely have 1K. All of them have great content and it’s a pretty diverse community out there! Some have switched some content over to other styles of fashion or aren’t mega active but many of their older videos talking about lolita fashion are still informative and important!

See the full post

157 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #sweet ollie tag

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sapphireswimming · 3 years

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you reblogged that wangxian happy fathers day post unthinkingly,, haha yes cute post domestic gay wizards... cut to me having a mf HEART ATTACK BC I THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT FATHERS DAY cut to my logic brain smacking my monkey brain with a hammer bc it. Is march.

oh friend

i hate to break this to you but time is not real in my brain or on my blog

#i am but a simple tumblr user: i see a post i like and i reblog #will i post comic sans valentines in october? yes #will i reblog otgw post with captions about being happy it's the spooky season in january? yes #will i reblog posts made for characters' birthdays on whatever day of the year i come across them? yes #also did i date a document at work 2014 just last week? definitely #and can i tell you what month of the year that father's day normally falls in? absolutely not #i am adrift in a sea of time and space and maybe more time that's also wrapped in fog #please do not try to navigate these seas using any of the posts on this blog #you will drown if you dare mistake any of them for landmarks #replies #ss #also omg i am very sorry for the heart attack #Anonymous

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cazimagines · 3 years

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A broken melody

Synopsis: You and Andrea were the perfect couple. After he washed up on the shores of Cornwall it felt like you two were destined to be together. But when he starts disappearing early hours in the morning and staying away for the whole day, you can't help but start to doubt everything you believed.

Word Count: 3.1k

Author's note: It's been like a month since I last put out a proper one-shot so hear you are! I am just about to move away to Uni so activity/writing on this account and my side account @sub-danny will decrease but I will still try to write when I can! Also as a note for the fic, I do not condone the reader's actions, nor do I think any of you lovely beings would behave that way, the reader is written to do certain things because this is intended as a angst fic.

Warnings: f!reader, ANGST, Sad Andrea hours, almost cried while writing this, reader is kinda a dick

Navigation

Andrea Marowski masterlist

Main masterlist

(Please check out navigation to see what I will be writing next, add yourself to my taglist and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

(gif credit @lindir)

Grains of warm seashore sunk between your toes. Your hand clutched the soft hand of Andrea’s with an iron grip as your feet flicked up the sand from where you were running along the beach, leaving a trail of your existence in the ground. A chuckle escaped your lips as you felt Andrea’s grip on your hand slip as he slid in the sand and almost tumbled into the ground. He managed to correct himself, however, with a swift glance to you, he joined in your giggles with a light tinge to his cheeks.

When the two of you tried running and rolling about on the beach, you found yourself sitting on one of the rocks in the shallow part of the sea, listening to the gentle laps of the waves upon the stone. Your arm wrapped around Andrea’s arm as you rested your head upon his shoulder, occasionally placing a few gentle kisses on his shirt, making him humm in happiness as he looked out to the sea. Though the smell of the sea was powerful and delightful, you could still smell the distinct scent of lavender and honey that came from Andrea and soothed your being.

Though the sight of the sun slowly sinking beyond the horizon was beautiful, that wasn’t what occupied Andrea’s mind. Instead, it was ablaze with thoughts about how he had almost drowned in these very sea’s, about how if he hadn’t, he would have been in America currently and how thankful he was that the boat did crash.

You two were happy sitting in your silence, listening to the sound of the sea and feeling the breeze on your face and through your hair. When Andrea didn’t know English, you two had to grow used to enjoying each others company in silence. Now even though his English had improved, you two found comfort in the silence. Still, he had so many things he wanted to say but didn’t know the complexity of the English language to express such profound words and feelings.

“I’m happy”, he murmurs, pulling his eyes away from the horizon to give you an enchanting smile.

w“Because of your new violin?”

After Andrea had decided to stay in England with you, he needed a job, so you weren’t paying for all his expenses, and so he borrowed one of the violins from a fellow villager and performed around the area until he had earned enough money to buy his own violin. He was so excited when the two of you took the train up to London to buy it that he couldn’t sit still. He ran to the shop when he saw it. Then finally, he selected the violin he wanted and could afford, and he carried it around so carefully on the way home, staring at it in amazement, even stroking it. At the end of the day, he serenaded you, playing song after song to show his excitement at having his own violin and the love he held for you.

Andrea chuckled at your comment and then pressed a prompt kiss to your forehead before looking out to the sea again, his eyes glossing over.

“Yes, but that’s not all. I am happy to be here with you. I’m happy I no go to America.”

You squeeze Andrea’s arm tighter, hearing his words, pushing your face into the side of his arm. “This might sound bad, but I am glad you crashed that night and got washed up on this beach.”

Andrea leaned down to place the side of his head on top of yours as you two watched the sun finally dip under the horizon, showering the sky in an abundance of colours.

“I’m glad too.”

The two of you felt so content with each other at this moment, warmth enrapturing the two of you in a honeymoon bliss, but the bliss would turn sour over the next few months as the once gentle sea turned into a raging storm.

It was only a week later when you awoke in your bed and found out Andrea had already left, leaving his side cold and empty in the early hours of the morning. He had been spending more time away from your house where he had moved in to live with you. You knew this was normal. He had friends in the village; he had a social life. He couldn’t be with you all the time. Yet worry grasped you like an envious snake as you feared his absence was down to that German painter who had arrived recently in the village.

She and Andrea could speak the same language fluently, able to communicate with ease which you and Andrea couldn’t. It was only natural you would feel some jealousy prickle at your heart because of it. She could communicate in a way with Andrea that you might never be able to.

It still caused you pain that he was choosing to spend time with her rather than you. You were his girlfriend; you were supposed to matter most to him; you were supposed to be the one he wanted to spend all his time with. Not her.

After a month of this happening on a daily occurrence, you decided you had had enough. In the morning, you stuck to your usual routine, and for once, Andrea had stayed for the morning. You made him breakfast and had it out on the table when he finally made his way down the staircase. He was whistling one of the songs he had started learning on his violin, and as he saw the food you had put out on the table, he beamed at you and quickly sat down to eat it all up. When he was finished, he made a catlike stretch then stood up. With a bounce in his step, he made his way over to where you stood by the sink and placed a delicate kiss on your cheek.

The smell of lavender and honey swarmed you again at his presence, but it didn’t fill you with the same amount of elevation like it once did before.

His eyes sparkled as he walked over to his new violin, which he had been polishing only last night, so it gleamed in the morning sun filtering through the window. Delicately he picked up the priceless violin and gingerly held it as he walked over to the front door. He turned on his heels to nod at you and wave goodbye as he gave you one last gentle smile, and then he was through the door and disappearing down your front garden. It wasn’t a long-distance he was to walk, and he didn’t think anything of the journey. The sun was shining, the air was cool, and he felt satisfied with his breakfast. What he didn’t know, however, was merely five minutes after he left the house; you too had left the house and started on your journey of following him. You kept just enough distance so he wouldn’t hear your footsteps or get any feeling of being followed, but you kept close enough to watch where he went and to ensure he didn’t leave your eyesight.

As predicted, you saw him turn the corner and open the gate to Olga’s cottage. He merry strolls up the dirt path and politely knocks on the green wooden door. You watched between the shield’s of the bushes as a lump came to your throat as the door was opened, and without a moment’s hesitation, Andrea strolled in.

From there, you had no clue what he was doing, but you could feel your blood boil at the thought of it. Not only was it improper for a guy to meet with a woman when he was dating someone else but to go into her house? It is scandalous.

Trying to be as discrete as possible, you tiptoed over to one of the main windows at the front of the house. Part of it was opened, so you had to be careful they didn’t hear you getting near, and you had to position yourself to lean against the wall so they couldn’t see you, but you could see them. Your back pressed against the burning bricks, but soon you were able to get a good angle to look inside.

Andrea was stood in the middle of his room, his suit jacket discarded on one of the chairs, leaving him in just his white shirt, waistcoat and slacks. He held up his pristine violin in a pose, making it look like he was playing it while Olga stood by her canvas, starting to outline the shape of Andrea on it. He looked so intently at her; his eyes were unmoving. You could feel your muscles tense and your jaw clenching as you watched the two of them.

With the window opened, you could hear every little noise inside, the sound of the brush on the canvas, the sound of Andrea occasionally playing a few notes and eventually the sound of them talking.

“Have you thought any more about my offer?” Olga said gently, her eyes leaving the canvas to look at Andrea with an eyebrow raised and an inquisitive smile on her lips.

Andrea breaths in and then let out a little sigh as his eyes finally leave Olga to look down at the ground as his eyebrows furrow.

“I’m not sure; it’s a big decision.”

“I know Andrea,” Olga says warmly as he leaves the canvas to walk other to Andrea, standing too close. “But my brother really can help you. This is your chance for a big break. He’s in London next week, go there, and I am sure he will give you a place, and then you will travel the world.”

With a shudder down your spine, you knew you had heard enough. Your feet moved on their own as you quickly ran back down the front garden and out of the gate, onto the same road you had walked only a few minutes ago. Your hand came to your chest and pressed against it as if trying to cradle your broken heart. You could barely lift your head from looking down at the ground, not that that would serve you any help, for your eyes were so swarmed with tears that the path before you was blurry. You stumbled down the road as you reached your house again, particularly flinging yourself through the door as you slammed it shut behind you. Your back hit the hard wood, and slowly you sunk to the floor. You buried your face in your hands and finally let out the sobs that had been threatening to fall from you the moment you saw Andrea and Olga together.

You stayed on the floor, just crying your heart out for a good half an hour when really it felt like an eternity had passed of your suffering, drawn out to the ends of time. Your pain had transformed to no longer grieving all that had been lost, all of the wasted time and all of the kindness you had poured out of your soul, but instead to a burning fire of hatred, hotter than hell itself and directed towards the devil with his oh so sweet disguise.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of a pile of clothing, his clothing. You had washed it only just this morning for him and piled it on the chair, ready to take up to the bedroom. But now, you stomped forward, roughly grabbing the clothes and shoving them into a bag you had lying around, not caring for how neatly they were packed. If he was so eager to leave, then you shall save him the hassle and have his bags packed for when he comes back.

Andrea was with her for hours, which now gave you plenty of time to remove all of his dark presence from the house. You took everything and hurled them down the stairs, not caring how damaged they might become. You even had the decency to put everything into a bag; how kind of that is you? Clothes, music sheets, little toys he found cute and had brought, all the shells he found on the beach and had given to you. Even the promise rings he had saved up his money to buy for the two of you were carelessly tossed into the pile of rubbish. As the sun started to sink, you finished packing and had everything by the door, ready to go, when you heard the unmistakable sound of light footsteps on gravel and the noise of the doorknob rattling.

Andrea opened the door, looking forward to seeing your beautiful face again, but as he attempted to push the door open fully, it hit one of the many bags. The sudden jolt of the door on the unexpecting Andrea made him trip and almost fall over, quickly making him panic due to his precious violin still within his hand, but he managed to catch himself. He blinked rapidly as his eyebrows furrowed, looking at all the bags of his belonging before him. His mouth opened slightly, but then he caught sight of you staring at him in the corner of his eyes, and he looked up to you, tilting his head.

“Y/n… what is this?”

Your eyes narrowed at his fain for ignorance, how those big round eyes looked at you with his portrayal of confusion, it made the heat inside of you burn like a dying star, the last remains of the light and love for him slowly diminishing.

“How dare you try and act surprised”, you seethed through your teeth as you crossed your arms and straightened your back, your gaze never leaving Andrea’s.

Andrea’s lips moved wordlessly, his eyelids squinting as he desperately tried to figure out what was going on, “I no understand.”

Your lips curled back in a snarl as you stepped forward to Andrea, your whole body tensed and your fists curling. Andrea could easily see from your body language how angry you were, and he paled, seeing how this anger was directed towards him.

“I know what you were planning to do, run away and leave me alone while you join that orchestra with the whore”

Andrea’s skin was almost paperwhite as the realisation came to him; his eyes grew round in their shock as his mouth opened slightly and his hand clenched his violin tightly. It took him a second to even form any words in his mind as he felt frozen to the spot.

“Y/n, no! It’s not like that; let me explain,” he began, finally raising his foot to take a step towards you, but you cut through his actions with your following sentence.

“There’s no need to try and come up with excuses; I want you gone.”

“Y/n, please! I was going to ask you to come with me. I wouldn’t leave without you!”

“Shut up! Just shut up! I knew you were going to run away with her, with Olga,” you cry, feeling tears daring to spill out of your eyes again, but you were trying to hold them back. You didn’t want Andrea to see how hurt he had made you.

=Andrea’s bottom lip was wobbling, the sides of his lips turned downwards as his eyebrows raised, desperation in those big brown eyes of his as he shakes his head, a few tears of his own spilling out.

“I wasn’t because I don’t love her; I love you, please believe me.”

“Stop lying”, you screamed as he once against tried to step closer to you, his unoccupied hand reaching out to try and grasp yours in comfort and reassurance. You had never been so angry in your life before, but at that moment, seeing Andrea have the audacity to try and get close to you made your heart burn in pain. It was like your vision went red, and all you could think about was hurting him, hurting him just as he had hurt you. Hardly even thinking about it, you lunged forward and grasped the end of the violin in Andrea’s hand. Andrea stumbled in surprise but maintained his grip on it, desperately trying to stop you from taking it without hurting you. You kept tugging at it through, and slowly he could feel his grip loosen in his hand. He cried out in shock and surprise as the violin was finally yanked from his hands, and then everything seemed to go into slow motion.

Violin in hand, you held up the instrument and then slammed it down with all the force you possessed, watching how it fell to the hard floor. As it hit the floor, cracks ran up the side till it finally exploded into a shower of wood chips, the strings getting out a violent twang as they snapped, and then everything settled as it became a pile of wood and sting on the floor.

Andrea froze, his eyes unable to move from where the broken violin rested. Neither of you said a word as fresh tears swarmed his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Slowly he sank to the floor. He picked up the broken pieces in his hands and gently brought them to his chest to cradle them as the first few sounds of sobbing echoed from him. His whole body heaved, and his head was cast down as the tears spilt onto the wooden floor.

“My violin”, he sniffed, his body visibly shaking. You might have felt sorry for him at any other time, but at this moment, you were so swarmed with anger that the sound of him crying just made you all the madder. He was acting like you were the villain of this story when he was the one who was going to run off; he was the one who hurt you. Well, now he couldn’t go and play in that orchestra with no violin.

“Why,” was all he was eventually able to say, his voice breaking as he whispered the single word. He dared to look up at you, the tears falling down his cheeks as he sniffed, wishing for you to talk to him, to answer him, not to leave him in silence.

“I want you gone in ten minutes” was the only reply you offered him.

He couldn’t take the broken violin with him, and so with so much tenderness, he placed it down by the side of the door and slowly stood up again. With shaking hands, he gathered all the bags, dropping them a few times in his rush as he could hardly hold them or see them through his clouded eyes.

He turned back to the door, which now showed the sun setting and let in the bitterly cold wind. It hit his face, making his eyes burn and cloud with even more tears. He took like last forlorn look at you, his red shot eyes on yours.

“Y/n… please”, he whispered in a broken voice.

“Get out”

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

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

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.”

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator. “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile.

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past.

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son.

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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possiblyimbiassed · 3 years

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Ships and Cars - The Sign of Code

There have been lots of discussions about code in BBC Sherlock, and the possible metaphorical meaning of different things that appear frequently in the show, such as coffee/tea, water/fire, dogs/cats and many more. This show indeed seems filled with ciphers, code and secret messages. In this meta (X) I tried to decipher the encrypted name of the fishing boat that Sherlock and John hijacked in TFP, when it was called upon from Sherrinford: “Golf-Whisky-X-ray”.

The Ship coding

At first I thought this was referring to the international spelling alphabet for wireless communication (X, X) where there’s a word for each letter. “GWX” didn’t make much sense to me, though, until I stumbled upon something deeper: ‘Golf’, ‘Whisky’ and ‘X-ray’ are also part of the marine Code of Signals (X) that was established in Britain around 1850. It’s still used by water vessels to communicate important messages regarding safety of navigation and such, and the signals can be sent by, for example, flaghoist, signal lamp or flag semaphore. Conan Doyle worked on a ship at least in 1880 and 1881, so the signals could totally have been known to him already in Victorian times. And since Sherlock and John are on board a boat in TFP,

I think it’s reasonable to assume that the marine code is the relevant one here. In this signal code, the flags for “Golf”, Whisky” and “Xray” mean the following:

Golf = “I require a pilot.”

Whiskey = “I require medical assistance.”

”Xray = “Stop carrying out your intentions and watch for my signals.”

Which in other words could be read as:

I need a pilot (a maritime pilot to help me navigate)

I need a doctor

Pay attention to code

But is this use of marine signals something that only appears in BBC Sherlock? Is it Mofftiss’ own idea to use them, or could there possibly be any canon references to them? In the discussion that followed my meta (X) @frailtyofgenius pointed out to me that ACD’s canon actually does mention “Naval signals” in His Last Bow (LAST), which I think might be very significant. And the one who uses the naval signals is Holmes himself.

Continued under the cut, because this is reeeally a long ‘transport’... ;)

So I took to read LAST and realized that there are several ’naval’ references (my bolding) in this story by Conan Doyle. In the beginning, as a romantic landscape framework, we’re told about the surroundings of the German spy Von Bork’s house:

Above, the stars were shining brightly, and below, the lights of the shipping glimmered in the bay.

LAST takes place on the English east cost, near the port of Harwich. The spy Von Bork is chatting with Baron Von Herling, a German diplomat, bragging about the intelligence he’s gathered for his country, and then he shows the Baron the contents of his safe:

And all in four years, Baron. Not such a bad show for the hard-drinking, hard-riding country squire. But the gem of my collection is coming and there is the setting all ready for it.” He pointed to a space over which “Naval Signals” was printed.

But apparently the naval authorities have changed the code:

“But you have a good dossier there already.” “Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed.”

So Holmes, posing as the Irish-American spy Altamont, is supposed to bring new ones. I think the real ‘feature of interest’ in this story, however, is the coding that Holmes/Altamont uses in his telegram to the German spy:

“Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs. ALTAMONT.”

And the conversation between Van Bork and the Baron continues:

“Sparking plugs, eh?” “You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser, and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals.”

So here in ACD canon we’re explicitly told that the spark plugs, the ignition of the car’s engine (which generates an explosion in the engine’s combustion chamber) actually represents code - marine code. And other car references, according to Van Bork, are also marine code. I can’t help wondering if water was actually meant to represent emotions already in canon? ACD canon is packed with references to water: sea, coast, lakes, ponds, rivers and waterfalls but also ships, steamers, boats, submarines and such. Some of the criminals in canon are seamen and the navy is mentioned in some cases. And in two stories (NAVA and BRUC) the ‘naval’ issues contain secrets of national importance.

I’d love to try to analyse all the water and boat references in ACD canon and see if/how they tie into emotions, but that’s for another meta. :) But what if something similar is done in BBC Sherlock; what if Mofftiss have used not only canon’s water metaphors for emotions but also the same general secret cipher as Holmes used in LAST? But maybe Mofftiss also took the cipher one step further, interpreting anything car-related not as general metaphors for emotions, but specifically as code for sexuality.

In TFP there’s a great explosion at 221B, and next thing we know, Sherlock and John are aboard a fishing boat, which is called upon with naval signals. But there’s actually very few ships in BBC Sherlock (while canon, as mentioned, is full of them); the fishing boat in TFP is one of very few boats in the show. As for seamen, there’s also very few in the show. Except for the fishing father and son in TFP, there’a also Sherlock’s deductions about the unemployed fisherman and his mother in THoB. @sagestreet has written an excellent meta suggesting a significant symbolic meaning of ‘fishing’ in this case (X).

In this self-censored post on John’s blog, however, there’s a cruiser mentioned in the title: Tilly Briggs Cruise of Terror. But we never get to know anything about this case; the post is taken down entirely since, according to John, “the ship’s owners are launching an appeal”.

Why is this post even there, if no one is allowed to read it? Every other blog post from John has some kind of content in it - at least since he met Sherlock. But this one only has a title (and a teaser in the post before: “I'm going to tell you about a couple of the smaller cases we've been involved in. What really happened on the Tilly Briggs pleasure cruise.” (X))

So the supposed ‘pleasure cruise’ was turned into a ‘cruise of terror’ and then deleted. Maybe it’s just me, but I strongly suspect this is a clue from the show makers telling us that a certain ‘ship’ is not allowed in BBC Sherlock, for ‘legal’ reasons having to do with the ‘owners of the ship’ (ACD Estate).

Actually, there’s more info than this about the ship even in ACD canon, although it’s scarce. In The Sussex Vampire (SUSS) “Matilda Briggs” is mentioned in a letter to Holmes from the company Morrison, Morrison, and Dodd:

“As our firm specializes entirely upon the assessment of machinery the matter hardly comes within our purview, and we have therefore recommended Mr. Ferguson to call upon you and lay the matter before you. We have not forgotten your successful action in the case of Matilda Briggs.”

After Watson has read it, Holmes explains to him (my bolding):

“Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.”

If this is an allusion to a possible relationship between Holmes and Watson, indeed the world would not have been ‘prepared’ in Victorian times, since homophobia was prevalent and same-sex couples illegal.

Source: (X)

Directly after this, while perusing his lexicon for ‘Vampires’ (the actual topic of the letter), Holmes also mentions another ship that was associated with Victor Trevor’s father’s secret past as a mutinous convict:

“Voyage of the Gloria Scott,” he read. “That was a bad business. I have some recollection that you made a record of it, Watson, though I was unable to congratulate you upon the result.”

Indeed this voyage in GLOR was a ‘bad business’; it ended in mutiny and disaster. The ship Gloria Scott exploded and sunk in the Atlantic, and most of the crew and passengers died.

So, not many ships appear in BBC Sherlock. But instead, there’s plenty of cars in the show. What if all these car references actually somehow actually refer to a ship - a very particular ‘shipping’? ;)

The Cars

So, might these cars code for some hidden secrets? And/or is it possible to tie the car references to ’naval code’, as Holmes claims to do in LAST, assuming that naval = water = emotions but also sexuality?

Returning to canon, please note that Holmes and Watson (both in disguise) arrive in a car to the scene of this story in LAST. This is one of the very few cars that appear in canon, since they weren’t yet very commonly in use by those times. Holmes’ and Watson’s car is modestly described as “a small car” and “a little Ford” (as opposed to Baron Von Herling’s car, which is a huge limo). But at the end of the story, Holmes says about the little Ford: “Start her up, Watson, for it’s time that we were on our way.” And there they go, happily together, with the criminal tied up in the back seat, heading for Scotland Yard. Sweet, isn’t it? :) This is the very last we see of Holmes and Watson in canon. (Unfortunately, I can’t find any illustration of it).

BBC Sherlock, however, is full of cars. So, if we apply this analogy to BBC Sherlock, what car references can we find that could be translated into marine (= emotional) terms? Well, the first thing that comes to mind is the cab, the taxi, which is Sherlock’s preferred means of transport.

A taxi has a driver, which is the word that the little girl on the plane in TFP uses instead of ‘pilot’. But we don’t see any taxi boats in the show, do we? In the Unaired Pilot, however, the cabbie drives Sherlock home to Baker Street (not to Roland Kerr’s), and there he tries to ‘kill’ him. One could even assume he makes a kind of sexual innuendo when Sherlock is sprawled face-down on the floor and the cabbie says “I could do anything I wanted to you right now, Mr ’olmes.”

As I explained in my other meta about marine code (X), a marine pilot is someone who leads a ship through dangerous waters. Mofftiss haven’t included any marine pilots in their show, but they do use aircraft pilots, even if they’re not labelled as such:

But if ‘driver’ should be read as ‘pilot’, then Jeff Hope - a John mirror - in the Unaired Pilot, the ‘driver’ of the show, guides Sherlock home emotionally and sexually, doesn’t he? ;)

But there’s more about the signals in LAST. This is what the counter-agent Sherlock ‘Altamont’ Holmes says when he arrives at Von Bork’s place:

“You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister,” he cried. “I’m bringing home the bacon at last.” “The signals?” “Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lamp code, Marconi – a copy, mind you, not the original. That was too dangerous.”

This seems very similar to Wikipedia’s explanation of the Marine Code of Signals, as I quoted above: apart from flag hoist, the signals can also be transmitted by, for example, flag semaphores, radio communication or signal lamps. We do have radio communication in TFP, when Sherrinford receives the message from the boat ‘golf-whisky-x-ray’. But are there any signal lamps in BBC Sherlock? Yes, in fact there are - and they’re tied to a car!

A blinking, grinning Peugeot, no less, in THoB. And it’s definitely connected to sex, because that’s what’s happening inside. ;) Even if we’re lead to believe that this isn’t actually code, John does try (unsuccessfully) to decipher the blinking lights from this car as Morse signals and gets “U M Q R A”.

Apparently this code is not referring to the Marine Code of Signals. But @bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest has written an excellent meta (X) deciphering the possible code “UMQRA” as meaning “TORCH”, using the Ceasar cipher, which Sherlock refers to on his website (X) in combination with another cipher. In my opinion this does make a lot of sense. John does indeed use a torch to try to decipher this message, and there are also lots of other possible metaphorical meanings of ‘torch’ in the show.

So I think it would still be wise to pay attention to code, wouldn’t it?

As for Holmes’ quote from LAST above, “a copy, mind you, not the original”, I’d interpret this at Holmes pointing out that these signals can be copied (’mirrored’?) and also that they can vary in type (I imagine that ‘Marconi’ stands for radio transmission (X)). All in all, these naval signals are of national importance in canon, just like the Bruce Partington Plans and the Naval Treaty. And these are all military top-secrets clearly connected to the British navy. At some point in LAST, believing he has won the spy game, the Baron says:“There may be other lights within the week, and the English coast a less tranquil place!” Seems like the East Wind is coming. ;)

But back to the marine codes and cars: in canon (LAST) the car references hide secrets of national importance, connected to Britain’s naval defense, and some of those secrets, in turn, are encrypted with naval signals. That’s double coding, right? Also: the navy defend British waters and water = emotions.

As for cars, there’s a lot more of them in the show, while canon has very few; cars weren’t in use during most of Holmes’ career. I think LAST is the first time that cars appear in ACD canon? And the spare parts that Holmes/Altamont talks about as code in LAST never actually appear in the story, only the Baron’s limo and Holmes’ little Ford, where Watson is the driver.

But in the modern show there’s plenty of cars, of course; they’re literally everywhere. Many people have long ago pointed out that cars represent transport metaphorically, which is how Sherlock views his bodily needs in the unaired Pilot. Which ties in well with the assumption above that cars also represents sexuality, which is related to emotions even if it’s not the same thing.

But let’s also try to decipher the car references with Holmes’s code in LAST in mind, shall we? Where can we find water and/or possible hints about emotions and/or sexuality?

Apart from the taxis, which run like a red thread through the episodes (ASiP, TBB, TGG, ASiB, TRF, HLV, TST), and the abundance of police cars and ambulances, I can think of the following:

Mycroft’s black governmental car which is used to kidnap John in ASiP (and other episodes).

If Mycroft represents Sherlock’s brain, this might be about Sherlock trying to examine and test John with his intellect, to get an idea of who John is and what to expect from him. But this task is driven by his car - bodily needs - and behind them there’s still emotions, if we apply Sherlock’s code in LAST.

The first hostage’s car in TGG, where she is wrapped up in semtex.

This woman is literally trapped inside her car and metaphorically trapped inside her bodily needs, which are threatening to explode (remember Holmes’ ’sparking plugs’ in LAST?) if Sherlock doesn’t solve the puzzle about Carl Powers. And in this screen cap she is literally juxtaposed to Sherlock:

So it seems like Sherlock is now trapped inside his ‘transport’, yes? Still driven by emotions rather than intellect. And he probably sees this as very dangerous.

The finding of The ’dead’ man’s car with (fake) blood in TGG.

This ill-treated transport device (John calls it ”an abandoned sports car” on his blog X) leeds to more cars - Janus cars - and it turns out that the driver - Ian Monkford - isn’t dead; he’s just on ’vacation’ in Colombia (with the real purpose of cashing in his life insurance money). Sherlock figures this puzzle out and the poor fellow wrapped in semtex can breathe out; he’s not going to explode, either physically or emotionally. And no-one is dead in this case, but the driver faked his own death to avoid exposure and get his ‘security’.

The car with a dead body in the boot in ASiB

Licence plate: PYO3 HYN. The dead man in this car was destined for Germany according to his tickets - another ‘vacation’? But he never reached there; his plane crashed but he wasn’t in it, because he was already dead - trapped in his transport a car. Now, this case seems intimately connected with Sherlock in the boot of Mrs Hudson’s Aston Martin in TLD (see below). Except that Sherlock was being transported alive in that boot, but this guy is dead.

The client’s back-firing old SAAB in ASiB

The client stops near a wetland area and a stream because of problems with his engine. The driver - a John mirror? - tries to fix his ‘engine’, but the old car just won’t start. Sherlock analyses this case in his (drugged) Mind Palace together with his libido Irene Adler.

People have pointed out long ago (sorry for not remembering who - was it LSiT?) that the back-firing SAAB engine in the hiker case in ASiB might represent John’s dysfunctional sexlife with women; Sarah in specific and probably their trip to New Zeeland after TGG. (Maybe this is also why Sherlock in TSoT, when John has just been married to Mary, deduces that one of the wedding guests - a doctor - has ‘erectile dysfunction’?)

Irene’s black car in ASiB

Licence plate: SKO8 ZYL. This black car, which has a private driver, is used to transport John to the Battersea station on New Year’s Eve in ASiB. In spite of being in midwinter, Battersea seems to be flooded with water. And this is the place where Irene exposes John’s sexual relationship with (or at least interest in) Sherlock while Sherlock is listening to the conversation from another room, but John declares that “I’m not actually gay”. This car is so similar to Mycroft’s black car (see above) that John thinks this is Mycroft who kidnaps him again. If Irene represents Sherlock’s libido, what does her black car stand for?

Sherlock’s and John’s hired Land Rover in THoB

Licence plate: OEI0 HFK. The Land Rover is a British car, known for its four-wheel drive and vast off-road capacity. Sherlock drives this car to “deepest, darkest Devon” with John in the passenger seat, so it seems like they were prepared for a ‘bumpy ride’. And this car actually has a visible spare part; an extra wheel in case of emergency:

And their journey really became ‘bumpy’ - at least on an emotional level, since they were both dosed with a fear-inducing gas, had a quarrel, and the gay couple who were running the Inn where they were staying took for granted that they were indeed a couple too.

John’s and Mary’s car in HLV and in TST

Licence plate: SP56 LJY, black Audi. Mary is the driver in HLV. (By the way, why has this car the steering wheel to the left, in a country with left-hand traffic?). Here we’re presented with the interesting idea from the billboard that “Information is the power to change 1895″. In HLV we actually do see something like a spare part for this car; John’s tyre lever. ;) (which looks more like some sort of pipe key, if you ask me, but whatever; it’s still a spare part - or at least a ‘tool’ - associated with John’s transport car):

So this would be consistent with Holmes’ cipher in LAST. And this spare part is treated with very sexual overtones in HLV, so I think the influence of Sentiment and Sex is pretty clear here.

Mrs Hudson’s red Aston Martin in TLD

License plate: APIS CXJ. Now, this is a really interesting and beautiful car I think, and it shows its capacity when it goes speeding in TLD. Mrs Hudson has more resources than some people might believe. But John is only allowed to use her sports car - the ultimate symbol of male virility - when he’s off to rescue Sherlock. ;)

The license plate reads APIS, which I’m sure is a reference to bees and bee keeping, because Apis mellifera is the scientific name of the honey bee. Holmes’ main occupation as retired in ACD canon is bee keeping, which is shown in LAST, where his secret ‘sparking plugs’ turn out to be the Practical Handbook of Bee Culture. ;)) So Holmes stood by his words in his telegram to Van Bork; he did “come without fail to-night” (he came together with Watson) and he did “bring new sparking plugs”. It’s just that the ‘spark’ wasn’t maybe of the sort that Van Bork had expected...

Anyway, in this scene in TLD, Sherlock is being kidnapped and handcuffed by Mrs Hudson and transported in the boot of that sports car; he’s literally trapped inside the rear end of his transport, which has John as its direct destination.

Sadly for all of us, however, John refuses to ‘examine this body’, and this is instead done by the John mirror Molly (inside an ambulance), who tells Sherlock that he’s dying and that “it’s not a game”.

The next time we see this red sports car, however, John is the driver, and he’s using its great capacity as it should be used: to come to Sherlock’s rescue. ;)

Come to think of it, there’s actually at least one more car spare part mentioned in the show, even if it might not be meant as this specific part:

This car has a steering wheel nevertheless, and Sherlock is sitting in the car while saying this. And yes; this show is indeed repetitive when it comes to certain topics. Like ‘transport’, emotions and bodily needs. But I do hope we’ll finally see some new turns on this topic in the next series. ;)

Thanks for your patience in following this marathon meta to its end! Tagging some people who might be interested (please alert me if you don’t want to be tagged):

@raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @sarahthecoat @lukessense @therealsaintscully @thewatsonbeekeepers @sagestreet @tjlcisthenewsexy @thepersianslipper @loveismyrevolution @shylockgnomes @frailtyofgenius

Screencaps in this meta are in some cases borrowed from this site (X).

#cars in BBC Sherlock #Ships in BBC Sherlock #ACD canon metaphors #transport metaphor #water = emotions

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 5

A/N Know what this fic needs? More Geillis. No really, I think you guys are going to like where I’m going with this. Just bear with me. Only one more chapter to go after this one, plus an epilogue. Thanks for coming on the journey with me! With due credit to Sia, this chapter’s title is Fire, Meet Gasoline.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

Geillis Duncan drove much the way she approached life, which was to say without much regard for rules and at white-knuckle speed. I gripped her Range Rover’s leather cushion and swallowed any exclamations of dismay as we ricocheted through Edinburgh’s late afternoon traffic. When we finally slid into an underground parking spot and emerged into the bustling festivity of the Princes Street Christmas Market, I felt the tension of imminent disaster abandon my shoulders.

“Where to first, then?” Geillis asked, looking far too animated by the prospect of accompanying someone while they did their Christmas shopping.

Geillis and I had kept in touch and met for coffee a few times over the past months. When I explained that I wouldn’t be taking any more cooking classes at Ginger Snap because Jamie was giving me at-home lessons, her reaction was a moonbeam grin.

“Look at ye, wee vixen! I ne’er wouldha thought ye had it in ya, Claire. Tho I canna say as I blame ye.”

No matter how much I protested that I was together with Frank and that my relationship with Jamie was purely professional, she refused to believe me. The ongoing absence of a ring from my left hand didn’t help.

“Now,” Geillis exclaimed once we’d taken in the sights and sounds of the market, “let’s have a keek at yer list. Where should we start?”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app. As she read, my friend’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Trouser socks, shoe stays, Moleskine notebook, Rive Gauche... who are ye shopping for, yer grandparents?”

“No,” I protested. “The first three are for Frank. The perfume is for me.”

When I explained that Frank had made a list of the items he would like to give me for Christmas, Geillis grew incensed.

“Ye mean he has ye doin’ his gift buying fer him? Tha’s the least romantic thing I’ve e’er heard. Do ye even like Rive Gauche, Claire? And dinna lie tae me, fer I can read yer feelings all o’er yer face.”

Truthfully, I didn’t much care for the flowery scent. My personal taste ran more towards woodsy or herbaceous aromas. But it was Frank’s favourite, and it pleased me to please him. Or it had. I was beginning to wonder when it would be my turn to please myself.

“Right,” Geillis interrupted my thoughts. “Marks and Sparks will do jes fine for yer wee granny list. And then you and I are going shopping fer yer real gift.”

Geillis was a force to be reckoned with in a retail environment. She navigated like a guided missile from one department to the next. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the pavement, which glistened with the colourful reflections of decorations strung above.

“Your car is the other way,” I explained as Geillis turned left.

“Aye, tis, but our destination is right o’er here. House of Fraser. See? Tis practically calling yer name, Claire.”

Inside the venerable old building was an astonishing multi-tiered arcade reaching over five stories to a massive skylit ceiling. The central space was dominated by a fifteen metre-high Christmas tree (a Fraser fir, of course) and every archway of every arcade was dripping with lights. The impression was like stepping into a Fabergé egg.

Geillis dragged me, slack-jawed, towards the ladies’ wear section. Circling the racks like a hawk on the wind, she eyed my body, sizing me up quite literally, then thrust several pieces into my hands.

“Geillis,” I hissed, wary of the sales staff hovering nearby, no doubt smelling an excessive commission in the offing. “I don’t need a new outfit. And I certainly don’t need,” I shook the garments in question, “something like this. Wherever would I wear it?”

“Well, fer starters, ye’d wear it tae dinner t’night. I dinna wish tae offend ye, Claire, but I canna in good conscience allow ye tae set foot in the Timberyard dressed fer a job interview as a primary school teacher.”

With that she shoved me in the direction of the changing rooms. Deciding to humour her, I was unbuttoning my top when two lacy bits of nothing came flying over the door.

“Start wi’ these. And dinna think I willna notice if ye’re no’ wearing them!”

I stripped down to my panties, bemusedly wondering how she knew my exact bra size.

Upon seeing me exit the dressing room in her choice of clothing, Geillis let out a squeal of delight. She insisted I rip out the tags and leave the store wearing my new outfit, declaring it was her Christmas gift to me.

I felt tremendously self-conscious as we walked towards the restaurant. The aubergine velvet jeans clung to my legs in an unfamiliar way and the black turtleneck, while technically not revealing, hinted at kink with its many heavy zippers and fastenings. Together with my unruly hair, unstraightened for once, I felt like another woman entirely. I didn’t recognize her, but I felt like she might be someone I’d like to get to know.

The Timberyard was a modern restaurant in a rugged old warehouse, not far from the farmer’s market I’d visited with Jamie. We were joined there by several of Geillis’ friends, and we ate, drank and laughed until my sides were sore.

As I wobbled to the loo, I noticed the bartender following me with an appreciative gaze. It had been a long time since a man had looked at me that way, and it gave me a guilty thrill.

We left the restaurant just before midnight. I pulled Geillis into an impulsive hug.

“Wha’ was that for, hen?” she asked.

“Nothing. Everything. Just, thank you for being you, Geil.”

“Och, tis my pleasure, lass. I only want tae see ye happy. Now, what do ye say to a digestif?”

After only a slight protest on my part, the two of us piled into an Uber. Our destination was another restaurant, this time in a converted whisky warehouse by the harbour in Leith. It was well past last sitting, but when I mentioned this to Geillis she explained away my concern.

“I ken the owner, who’s also the chef. Tis a popular spot fer locals in the restaurant scene tae meet after they close up fer a few drinks afore heading home tae their beds.”

Inside, the walls were rough stone, supported in places by industrial metal beams. The kitchen was open to the main dining area, and I grinned as I thought of Frank’s strong opinion on the matter. Near the back of the room, lit by dim naked bulbs and the glow from several open fireplaces, was a huge square table surrounded by nearly twenty chairs upholstered in bright yellow plaid. Around the table was gathered a motley assortment of men and women, all talking and laughing and sipping on a variety of drinks. And in their midst, his copper hair shining in the firelight, sat Jamie.

A shout went up from the table as Geillis approached. I hung back, tugging at the hem of my new turtleneck as though I could stretch it to cover my arse. Besides Jamie, I recognized Jenny, Angus and Murtagh, but I only had eyes for the big ginger chef. He sat at one corner, probably in deference to his long legs which were stretched out before him, wrapped in black denim. A black leather jacket hung over the chair behind him. He looked dangerous. It was a very good look for him.

Dragging me by the elbow, Geillis nudged and bumped Angus to one side despite his vulgar protests, then practically pushed me down into the chair directly next to the chef. With a smug smile of satisfaction, she then retired to the opposite side of the table.

I looked anywhere but directly at Jamie, but I could feel his butane eyes on me. I was certain he would scorch right through my outer layers and down to where Geillis’ choice in lingerie burned against my tender skin. The noise from the rest of the table faded away.

“Ye look bonnie t’night, Arsonist.” His voice was low and gruff and it sent a quickening through my veins.

“Thank you, Jamie. It was Geillis’ Christmas gift to me, and I feel, well... let’s just say it isn’t my usual look.”

“It suits ye, I think.” He reached out and lightly touched the silver tab of a zipper that ended near my wrist, setting it swinging. I swallowed and looked frantically around. Several open bottles of liquor stood nearby. Grabbing the nearest one, I poured myself a generous serving and knocked it back, all in one go. I tried to steady my breathing.

“Look, Jamie...”

Just then a blond man in chef’s whites called to Jamie from across the table. An exchange involving a lot of Scottish cursing and an off-colour reference to someone’s lobster pot ensued. I tried to convince myself I needed to leave. It was late, I was half-drunk, and whatever I intended to say to Jamie should definitely wait for another moment. Maybe never.

A hand on my thigh broke my preoccupation.

“Sorry, Arsonist, ye were sayin’ something?”

I wet my lips, frantically trying to recall anything but the feeling of Jamie’s strong fingers, stroking me through the velvet of my jeans.

“I...”

At that moment, the woman on Jamie’s far side broke into song. The rest of the table cheered and clapped along, and it was impossible to hear anything except the concussive pounding of my heart against my eardrums.

Jamie grabbed my clammy hand.

“Come wi’ me,” he instructed, grabbing our outerwear and pulling me towards the door. Geillis watched our departure with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

Outside the air was dense and cold, a briny slap after the stuffy warmth of the restaurant. Jamie obviously had a destination in mind, and we walked hand-in-hand along the cobbled streets for several minutes before finally emerging at the port. A jetty struck out into the inky sea, and it was there that we ended up. Besides a few gulls and the winking of a nearby lighthouse, we were all alone. The sodium street lights caught Jamie’s curls and made them burn.

“Forgive me, Arsonist. I couldna hear myself think in there. Tho, come tae think of it, tis no’ much better now.” Rather than release me, as he spoke Jamie stroked my hand, running calloused fingers over each vein and every knuckle. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, but it stole every thought from my head.

“No ring,” he remarked, stroking the finger in question.

“No,” I whispered in response.

And then it burst out of me, like a tidal wave of feeling that I never saw coming. I told him everything. My childhood roaming the globe with my uncle, pre-occupied and rootless, dreaming of stability. Meeting Frank at Harvard, and realizing that he represented all the things that my life to date had lacked: structure, security, a solid foundation, a home. And how it took moving to Scotland and coming into contact with a group of near-strangers to make me realize that the price I had paid for that stability was higher than I’d ever imagined. I’d given up my dream of becoming a doctor. I’d become so lost in Frank’s vision of who I should be that I’d almost lost sight of who I actually was.

By the time the flood of words left me, I was in Jamie’s arms, crying into his leather jacket. He hushed me with quiet murmurs and languorous stroking of my hair, as one would a child who has woken from a nightmare.

I stepped out of his embrace and rubbed my sleeve across my face. I must have looked an absolute mess, but he still watched me with those earnest, patient eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know what...”

“Claire,” he interrupted. I’d never before realized just how many consonants were in my given name. “Ye dinna need tae apologize tae me. But ye may want tae consider an apology tae yerself.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued.

“I’m no’ the kind of man tae tell another what they should and shouldna do. But ye strike me as someone who’s made decisions fer the right reasons, yet ended up in the wrong place.” Here he paused, as though carefully weighing his words. “There’s no sin in changin’ yer mind, Arsonist. Tis very well tae be hungry, so long as ye ken what ye hunger for.”

“And what do you hunger for, James Fraser?” The provocative words had left my lips before I had the chance to censor them. His answer came in the form of a blistering look that left no doubt as to its meaning. Then he gathered himself, banking the fire I’d unconsciously ignited.

“Many things. Regular, ordinary things, mostly. My family’s health and happiness. A faster bike. My own restaurant.”

“Like Tom’s there?” I asked, gesturing towards the harbour.

“Och, Tom is a braw chef, and worthy o’ every accolade tha’s been showered upon him. But the hospitality scene in Edinburgh is cut-throat, an’ suitable locations cost a fortune. Nah, Jenny and I want tae buy back our childhood home in the Highlands. Tis called Lallybroch, and when our Da passed, our Mam sold it tae her brother. We’d turn it inta a country inn, wi’ Jenny running the lodging side o’ things and I the dining. Tha’s the dream anyway,” he ended with a shrug.

I rested my hand on his forearm. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Jamie.”

Before he could reply, an enormous yawn burst from my lungs.

“Time tae get ye home tae yer bed, Arsonist,” Jamie grinned. “Come, I’ll give ye a ride.”

“Wait, haven’t you been drinking?” I inquired as we walked back down the jetty.

“Three years sober,” he explained with no hint of embarrassment. “I went somewhere pretty dark after my Mam died, an’ it took a near-fatal crash tae scare me straight.” His eyes squinted in a poor approximation of a wink as he added, “Besides, there are better ways tae chase a rush than in the bottom of a bottle.”

“Such as?” I asked brazenly.

Which was how I found myself on the back on a black motorcycle, my arms twined around Jamie’s waist. Rather than take me directly home, he steered us north, following the coast. It was very late, with hardly another vehicle about. We merged onto the motorway, and Jamie picked up speed. My thighs tightened around his lean hips, the vibration of the motor beneath us shivering up my spine. As we emerged beneath the hastate lights of the Queensferry Bridge, I stretched my arms wide, icy air ripping against the sleeves of my jacket. I laughed, although no-one could hear me. I yelled, and only the wind yelled back. I was flying.

***

It was nearly dawn when Jamie pulled up in front of my flat. My legs thrummed, my eyes were dry with fatigue, and my heart ached, but I felt better than I could ever remember. I handed Jamie back his spare helmet and shook out my curls. He watched me in that half-sleepy, half-vigilant way of his that I now recognized as desire.

“I don’t know what I could ever say to thank you, Jamie.”

“Ye needn’t say anything at all, Arsonist. Nae matter what ye decide, it has been my very great honour tae get tae know you.”

Without another word, he kick-started the engine and drove off into the early morning mist.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to his vanishing shadow.

***

The lamp above the couch was lit, and Frank lay still beneath its glow. I realized he had fallen asleep waiting for me to come home. Instead of regret, what I felt in that moment was pity.

The sound of my jacket being unzipped woke him. He blinked in confusion and then in shock.

“I’m very sorry if you were worried,” I began.

“Worried? Do you have any idea what time it is? My God, Claire, I don’t know what to make of you these days. You’ve never behaved irresponsibly before, and now you’re out at all hours and you’re wearing,” he gestured wildly with his hand at my new outfit which I had, quite honestly, forgotten I was wearing. “And your hair, Claire!” he finished, as though the manic state of my curls was definitive evidence of my fall from grace. Despite my exhaustion, I stood tall.

“Frank, we need to talk.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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300yearschallenge · 3 years

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The Olafssons - 300 Years Challenge

!!! READ BELOW !!!

This story is rated PG-13. Nothing is NSFW but there will be mature and adult themes

This story will address subject matter that is appropriate to the era. This could include issues like class, gender, sexuality and politics. This story will not condone any prejudices that characters may have and will try to adress this issue with nuance and respect for the people who were hurt most by such prejudices during history.

This story aims to represent a wide variety of experiences over its course. I also aim to make this story diverse in its representation. Do note that this story starts in an area that wasn't particularily racially and culturally diverse at that time but I will try to diversify the story as time goes on.

The Olafsson story contains the following themes:

Sexism and feminism

Pregnancy & Loss of Pregnancy

Death

Illness and injury

Disability

Sexual themes

Class including wealth and poverty

Religion

Smoking and alcohol/drug use If any of these themes are triggering for you then please engage at your own risk. If you have any feedback then you are welcome to reach out or answer this questionnaire

Navigation Below

Family Tree

Challenge Rules

All - From the Beginning I All - From the Latest Post

During The Great Northern War (1700 - 1721) the group of islands known as the Åland Islands (located in the Baltic Sea between Finland & Sweden) were attacked by Russians. This event - known as The Great Wrath - caused the majority of the population to flee to mainland Sweden to escape violence & kidnapping. Once the war ended in 1721 these inhabitants returned to abandoned and desolated homes and farmland.

GEN 1 - 1720 - 1740

GEN 2 - 1740 - 1760

GEN 3 - 1760 - 1780

GEN 4 - 1780 -

#olafssons #300 years challenge

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

acquainted | eight

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.6k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy and slight possessiveness, making out

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Should we go to that charity event the school is holding on Friday? It sounds kind of fun." Ryujin sipped on her drink, while you went through your closet, showing her different outfits over the facetime call.

"What's it for again?"

"I don't remember, but the Golden State Warriors dj is going to be dj'ing. He's pretty good."

"Yeah he is. I mean, I'm down, especially if it's for a good cause."

"Okay, I'll grab us tickets when I head to campus."

"You're not even gonna ask Jimin or Tae?" You chuckle.

"Why would I? They do everything we do, they don't know anything outside of us." You shake your head.

"Cut them a little slack."

"Boohoo, they'll say yes regardless. Bring Jungkook!"

"I mean, I'll ask, but I'm not gonna force him."

"Oh quit, I'm sure he'd be happy to spend time with you." She looked at you through the camera. "K, let me see that outfit."

"He said casual." You showed her your outfit in the full length mirror.

"Absolutely, yes! You're fucking hot." She squeals, automatically solidifying your outfit for tonight. It, thankfully, wasn't too cold in the Bay today, so you throw on a grey distressed denim mini skirt, a low-cut light grey longsleeve, a belt and some heeled combat boots. You ruffled and fixed your hair a bit until you were satisfied with your look, picking up the phone once more to turn your attention back to Ryujin.

"Thank you."

"No problem, babe. I hope you have fun! Did he say where you two were going?"

"Nope, it's apparently a surprise."

"Ugh, I love him already." She gushes, causing you to shake your head. You dabbed a bit of lip gloss and pressed your lips together to spread it out before spraying a perfume cloud for you to walk through. Sooner or later, knocks came at the door.

"Okay, I think that's him. I'll talk to you later?"

"Call me as soon as you get home. I want to know how big his dick actually is."

"You're sick. You sound exactly like Tae, you know that?"

"We're not talking about him."

"Love you, bye!" You abruptly hang up on her, unsure of why the hell you deal with her and Taehyung's crude comments. You grab your bag and open the door to see Jungkook standing there with a small bouquet of flowers. He peeks his head over the bouquet with the cutest smile you have ever seen.

"Hi." He slightly scrunches his nose and pulls you into a hug. Goddamn, does he smell good. "These are for you." He hands you the bouquet.

"Jungkook, they're beautiful. Thank you." You take it into your kitchen and place it into a vase really quickly before stepping out. You eye him from head to toe, and boy is looking like a whole ass meal in the denim outfit he has on. Like, who in the world could pull off this outfit like that?

"You look amazing." You blush. "If you ever get cold, just let me know, alright? I can spare my jacket."

"You're so sweet."

"Just want to make sure you're comfortable." He shrugs. "You ready?"

"Depends on what you have up your sleeve."

"Nothing extreme, if that's what you're thinking." He laughed. "I hope you enjoy it, though."

"Thanks for planning all of this, by the way."

"No biggie. I'm just glad to finally spend some time with you." He does a little run to open the passenger car door for you before hopping into the driver's seat. Immediately, he gets the car started and turns up the heat to make sure you're comfortable. The radio is softly playing Zayn's sHe, with Jungkook softly singing along.

"Wait a minute," You chuckle. "Do you sing?" He smirked.

"Maybe."

"Hey, that's not fair. Sing louder."

"No, now I'm shy." He chuckled.

"Why? It's just me."

"Yeah and I just wanna impress you and not make a fool out of myself."

"You won't! Please." You pouted, making him shake his head.

"Ugh, Y/N. That's going to easily become a weakness for me if you keep pulling that pout." You keep pouting. Eventually, he gets over himself and starts to sing a little louder than earlier, causing your heart to flutter at how angelic he sounds. He ends up laughing towards the end and shrugging it off, his cheeks tinted with a rosy tint as you shower him in compliments. Swoon. You were so into the moment that you didn't even realize Jungkook was taking you across the bridge to San Francisco. You and your friends don't come to the city much, strictly because there's too many goddamn hills, parking is expensive as fuck, there's too many one way streets and people just get crazy as hell [like crossing the street when it's not time to walk?!]. It was a little calmer back home and that's all you guys needed. You watch as he parks the car effortlessly on a steep hill before coming over to your side to open the door for you.

"Whew, that's gonna be a workout later." You look back at the steep hill that you're gonna have to climb after eating dinner, you assume.

"Don't worry, I got you." He laughs. There's actually a lot of people out for a Tuesday evening that you end up hanging onto his arm to get navigate the random sea of people. He walks into Brenda's French Soul Food - nothing too fancy, but nothing too casual. The waitress brings you both towards the back end of the restaurant and out into the patio, where there are christmas lights hung around the fence and outdoor heaters posted. He pulls out your chair before sitting himself down, the waitress putting down your menus and cups of water.

"Ohhhhh, my god." You say with heart eyes looking at the menu. You had heard about this place from so many people, and you were impressed that Jungkook was able to score reservations being that it's always so busy due to its popularity. "I'm so excited! I've been wanting to try this place."

"Goodjob, Jungkook." He says, patting himself on the back. "If you're happy, that's all I could ask for." The waitress comes back to offer recommendations, which you both include in your orders in one way or another. Although packed, the restaurant was able to pump out orders quickly and efficiently so you and Jungkook weren't sitting around for too long without food.

"So, how's Jin in class?" You almost choke on your food even though this is something you should have expected. You really wanted to avoid speaking about him tonight, but you knew it was inevitable being that you were out with his brother.

"Um, he's alright."

"Just alright?" He rose his eyebrow and chuckled.

"No, sorry. I mean, he's a really good teacher. Definitely better than our last professor. Everyone in class loves him."

"That's cool. Yeah, he's really smart and wise. I've always looked up to him."

"How long has it been?" You weren't sure how to ask the question, but Jungkook understood what you were asking.

"I was a sophomore in high school when my mom met his dad." You're silent for a moment, allowing him to continue on if needed. "I had a really hard time at first, you know? The whole stepfather thing. My anger was moreso directed towards my mom and my stepdad for awhile. But Jin helped me out a lot. He helped me come to terms with my feelings about everything and he stuck by my side, always had my back whenever I got into arguments or bickered with one of our parents." You nodded, suddenly feeling guilty even though you and Jungkook weren't a couple.

"So, you two are really close." He nodded.

"Yeah, we are. I really don't know what I'd do without him. He's taught me a lot and helped me grow. Plus, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi have been around too. They treat me like their own little brother.”

"That's sweet. It's nice to have that kind of relationship with your sibling and their friends." You chuckle.

"It is." He nods. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Ryujin, Taehyung and Jimin." He laughs.

"From the club, right? I met your friends, they're fun people."

"They're too much, honestly. I'm the only child, but we've all been stuck to the hip since freshman year in college."

"That's cool that you guys have been together since then." You give him a toothless smile. "I think it's pretty awesome that you guys are tackling grad school together too."

"Initially, we all had different plans, but Jimin had some big goals for himself including grad school, and it played a huge role in my decision to do grad school, too. Then Ryujin followed, then Taehyung."

"Cute."

"Speaking of friends, there's this charity event at school on Friday." You look up at him, a small smirk growing on his face.

"Uh huh?"

"And I was wondering if you wanted to come along with us. They really want you there."

"That's sweet. But, what matters the most is that you want me there."

"I wouldn't be inviting you if I didn't, right?" You bit your bottom lip.

"Touché. Of course I'll go with you, beautiful." He does a small nod before sipping his water. "Should we show up in matching outfits?" He joked, causing you to snort.

"Honestly, that seems pretty entertaining. Cute, and entertaining."

"I'm down if you are." You stuck your tongue out playfully.

"I'm game too."

"Let me know what you're wearing then."

"I will, whenever I figure that out."

"Take your time. Just know you'll look good in anything." You blushed. You both continue to talk over the remaining bits of your food before Jungkook calls for the check. You watch as he scribbles his signature onto the receipt before standing and sticking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. While exiting the small and crowded restaurant, you hold onto his hand, feeling him grip it tighter as you both successfully make it out. The night isn't too cold, and you sure as hell knew it wouldn't be after you conquered the hill that Jungkook parked on.

"Fuck." You say as you stand on the street, eyeing the steep hill in front of you.

"Come on." He says, slightly bending down for you to hop onto his back.

"Ouu, I don't know if that's a good idea--"

"Y/N, I promise it's okay. Come on." He laughed. Hey, if he was willing to do this, then why not? You hop onto his back, his arms wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, while you clung onto his neck. "See, not so bad, right?" He says, sprinting up the hill, making you laugh and hold onto him tighter.

"Shit, I am so sorry. That was probably a workout. Right after we ate, too."

"Nah. It wasn't anything." He scrunched his nose. On the way back over the bridge, Jungkook is heading towards Lake Merritt. You both are singing along to songs and joking around about topics that pop up here and there. When he parks his car, you notice a whole crowd of people gathered by the lake, which was a little unusual for this time of night. He grabs your hand and gently caresses the top with his thumb as he walks you over towards the crowd. To your surprise, you realize people are gathered here for a water lantern festival. Your eyes light up, making Jungkook smile at how excited you look.

"Jungkook, what the hell! How did you know about this and I didn't?" He shrugs.

"I have my ways." He says, his voice low and deep. You playfully shove him before you make your way over to grab lanterns to decorate. You and Jungkook sit off in a more quiet, calmer part of the lake, silently decorating your lanterns and writing your wishes along with it. What exactly did you want to wish for?

Happy friends, happy family. Happy you.

Whatever happiness meant to you.

To have Chance look over you.

Jungkook is done pretty quickly, but he waits for you to finish, not questioning what you've written since he figures it's a private matter. He shows you his lantern and his cute little stick figure drawing of his family and friends. You giggle, watching him gently lay his lantern in the water, giving you leverage to do the same with yours. You stand closely to him, his body providing you some warmth as you watch your lanterns float off into the lake and illuminate the night along with the others.

"Ready? We have one more thing to catch." He snakes his arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze. You simply nod, following him back to his car. He takes you about 30 minutes away, exiting and pulling right into a lot two street lights down from the exit. He pulls up to the ticket booth, buying 2 tickets for Tenet at the drive-in movie. You squeal and clap in your seat excitedly, also not knowing this was still around.

"Did you really do your research to plan this date?"

"Yes and no? I've been here before, and I thought it would be fun to take you. The restaurant and the lantern festival though, yes." He parks his car as instructed, turning the radio to the correct channel in order to hear the audio. "Wanna hop in the back so we have more room?" You nod, getting out of your seat just to hop into the back. He leans over into his trunk, grabbing water bottles and assorted gummy candies for you to snack on in case you wanted some. "I hope you're having fun so far."

"I am." You respond softly.

"Okay, beautiful. If you say so." He chuckles. He moves the driver and passenger seats forward so that you both have room to spread your legs a bit. At first, Jungkook made sure to give you enough space so he wouldn't make you uncomfortable, but over time, you felt yourself sinking closer and closer to his body until he had his arm draped around your shoulder, while part of your body rested on his. His hand gently caressed your arm, occasionally sending goosebumps through your body at how soft his touch his. You glanced over, admiring at how focused he was on the movie. He must have felt you looking at him because he quickly looks over and blushes as he nibbles on a gummy worm. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just cute how focused you are."

"Damn, are you not into it?"

"I am, but it's kind of hard to follow sometimes."

"Yeah, it's definitely one of those movies." This time, his gaze on you is a little longer than before. You don't know what takes over you, but you plant a kiss on him, making him smile into the kiss. He doesn't say anything, but proceeds to rest his free hand on your neck, pulling you close and into another deep kiss. Your hand grips onto the side of his shirt, your tongues slowly fighting for dominance. The sounds of wet kisses fills the car and tunes out the movie audio. You can feel the moment intensifying, both you and Jungkook letting out breathy moans in between kisses. Suddenly, the thought of Seokjin quickly flashes in your mind, the past nights you've spent with him and the nasty shit you both have done to each other.

You lightly gasp as you pull away, but it wasn't obvious to Jungkook that something had disturbed your peace.

"Sorry, I—" He tries to save face just in case he was in the wrong about something.

"No, I just— I wasn't expecting it to get that intense." You lied. You knew damn well.

"It's okay." He chuckled. "I would never rush you into anything, Y/N. Okay? We can take this slow." He gives you a genuine, warm, reassuring smile that causes you to swoon. Why the fuck was he so good? Just why? How was this even fair right now?

All you do is simply smile and lean back onto him. He's back to caressing your arm and shoulder, giving you small pecks on the top of your head every now and then to reassure you. Part of you wondered if this is what Seokjin had taught him over the years - how to properly love a woman and be a gentleman. But then, that quickly fades when you remember the situation you're in with him.

Well no, you're not in anything with him. You needed to stop doing this to yourself.

When the movie ends, you both climb back into the front seats to make your way back home. You feel the exhaustion hit you, all the fun and adrenaline you felt today slowly come crashing down. Jungkook parks in the passenger loading zone, throwing on his hazard lights before walking you up to your apartment.

"Jungkook, thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed it and had a ton of fun with you."

"I'm glad." He cups your face and gently places a kiss on your forehead. You weren't satisfied with it though, so you tippy toe as you hold onto his hand and kiss him on the lips. He leans into the kiss, deepening it for a quick second before pulling away. "Let me know the details about Friday, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight, beautiful." He smiles and licks his lips as he watches you walk in, feeling utterly content with how the day went. You feel the same way, smiling to yourself as you throw your bag onto the floor and prance into the bathroom to get ready for bed. You felt the butterflies in your stomach every time you thought about Jungkook and his smile, or his soft lips against yours.

Butterflies that kept your mind off of—

[jin] 10:04pm: Are you still with Jungkook?

You roll your eyes at the text. You hadn't pulled out your phone all night, so you're also seeing the numerous messages from your friends in the group chat, too.

[jimin] 7:45pm: have fun tonight, Y/N!

[taehyung] 7:50pm: ^ ditto. use protection, young lady

[taehyung] 7:50pm: think about mr. kim's feelings

[ryujin] 7:56pm: taehyung kim, shut the hell up. do you have anything better to do?

[jimin] 8:01pm: i really hope she doesn't pull out her phone during the date -__-

[taehyung] 8:05pm: lmfao you guys, chill out

[taehyung] 8:06pm: i'm sorry y/n, im just kidding. have fun tonight and be safe, love you

[ryujin] 8:10pm: CALL ME WHEN YOU GET HOME Y/N! i wanna know deets, remember! and ask him if he wants to join us on friday!

Unbelievable. Your friends were unbelievable, and that was an understatement. You don't respond to the group because you figured you'd call Ryujin in a bit and update the boys over the week. But to Jin's text - fuck.

You were literally just tucking him away in the far, far, far dark, deep depths of your mind.

[y/n] 11:38pm: I was, but now I'm home.

[jin] 11:39pm: Yeah, he just texted me back. Sorry.

[y/n] 11:40pm: It's okay.

[jin] 11:43pm: Okay. Have a good night.

He hates this. Why the hell would you do this to him? Grace is upstairs sleeping while Jin is trying to clean the kitchen up like he promised. Suddenly, his phone goes off, signaling a call coming in.

Jungkook.

"Hello?"

"Oh shit, yes! You're awake!" Jin chuckles a bit.

"How was the date?" Not only was he asking out of curiosity, but wanted to know how you were doing during the night. Completely none of his business but he couldn't help himself.

"God, she's fucking amazing. A-and-and beautiful." He yells into the phone excitedly. "She's so exciting. I can't wait to take her out again. I just wanna keep spending time with her." Jin is pretty unamused on the other line. Thank God he isn't on Facetime so he didn't have to fake this facial expressions hearing about Jungkook's feelings for you. "S-she- I mean, we kissed."

"Oh?" Jin asks, tongue pressed against his cheek. What the fuck.

"Yeah, we were making out during the movie. It got pretty intense, but it didn't get any further than that. I didn't wanna rush her into anything."

"You think it could have escalated?"

"Yeah honestly, but I wanna do right by her, you know?" Jin can tell how serious Jungkook was starting to become about pursuing you, and he had never felt more competitive until this day. He just wanted you to himself, and he wanted to be the one to kiss you and make you feel things you've only dreamed about.

Not his brother.

He, too, wanted you just as bad. If anything, more.

"It sounds like it was a pretty successful first date." Jungkook is beaming through the phone, he didn't have to see his face to know that.

"It was. It was such a good night." Jungkook chuckles. "By the way, I'm going to that charity event on campus on Friday. Are you and Grace going?"

"Probably not."

"Well, if you both are free, you should swing by. It'll be nice to see Grace."

"Yeah, I'll ask and see what's up." Jin sighs. "I should probably get to bed, I'm pretty tired. I'm happy to hear the date went well, kid."

"Thanks, dude. I'll talk to you later, get some rest."

"You too." Jin hangs up the call, silently hitting his fist against the kitchen counter as he lets out a deep sigh. More than ever, he wanted to keep you wrapped around his finger. He wanted to keep you there, no matter how selfish that sounded. There was no way he was going to let you unravel.

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