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seraphicsentences · 2 months

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pleaseee could you write an abby anderson x weather girl reader where they’re at the WLF base and abby catches reader staring at her hehehe

IM SORRY FOR TAKING 100 YEARS TO WRITE THIS AND THEN DELIVERING THIS MID ASS PIECE. i do hope you enjoy though i love you babe 😚😚

tags: abby anderson x reader, abby anderson x weather girl, EXHIBITIONISM, cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), kinda mean abby anderson? idk man, the whole WLF base is probably a lil traumatized

AN: thank you to @insanermin and @f3mme-f4tale for reviewing this for me i’m endlessly grateful for the two of you bless your beautiful souls. credits to my favorite girl for helping me come up with what to write for this request. i love youuuu

it was the crack of dawn, sun just barely peeking its way over the tops of WLF’s buildings, yet the heat was unbearable.

“83 fucking degrees Fahrenheit, jesus christ,” you muttered to yourself, checking the stationed thermometers posted around the perimeter.

the base was, for the most part, quiet. only few unlucky individuals working mindlessly at their respective morning assignments.

you strolled down your usual path, squinting at the streams of sunlight cast on the side of your face, dancing into your vision.

“hey weather girl,” a voice called from behind.

abby anderson. as if you even needed to turn around to recognize her unmistakable, raspy, teasing tone.

you whipped around, watching intently as abby bent out from under a stock-filled tent, arms filled.

“need some help?” you joked, stifling a giggle that arose when abby dipped abruptly to catch a bag of bait between her teeth.

what you wouldn’t give to be that bag of bait, you bit your lip, eyes trained on abby’s busy mouth.

hmphmpsh abby sarcastically laughed against the plastic, snapping you out of your dirty-minded haze and sending a flush across the back of your neck.

you meet her examining eyes, breath hitching as she squints slightly, a smirk etched into her gaze. embarrassed at the thought of her catching you, you open your mouth in attempt to sway the conversation— but she beats you to it, breaking the stare-down a beat later, spitting the bag out into a small pile on the wood deck.

god, you would let her spit bait into your mouth if she wanted.

“so what’re we at today? it’s gotta be at least 90 out,” abby wipes at her forehead, making small talk as she organizes the rest of the stock.

“try 83. though i wouldn’t be surprised if we do reach 90 once the sun is fully risen,” you reply, raising a hand to block some of pesky rays ruining your god-sent view.

“no fucking waaaay!” abby drags out, astounded. “we are definitely at 90 by now, do you see me? im drenched!”

so am i, you think to yourself.

“trust the expert. your body temperature’s just extra high from physical exertion. whoever put you on for outdoor stock at this hour has it out for you,” you comment, eyes dragging as abby lifts the bottom of her tank to wipe her face, revealing a rather impressive display of rock-solid abdominals.

you catch her gaze, this time her having an eyebrow raised, and immediately look away, the flush on your neck spreading to the tips of your ears. as hard as you tried not to stare, abby wasn’t doing much to help, especially not while decked out in a translucent white tank, black bra beneath a stark contrast, begging for your attention.

abby’s dark green cargos hugged her thighs deliciously, highlighting her thick, defined quads as she shifted about.

lifting a large sealed box of who knows what from one end of the deck to the other, she grunted under the weight, leaving your mind to wander yet again to a different sort of situation where you might find yourself blessed enough to hear that pretty sound.

“yeah, whatever- i’ll tru-trust the expert,” she breathes out, voice strained. strands of her blonde— almost golden in the sun— hair stuck to her face with sweat, which glistened perfectly on her skin, making abby look almost angelic as she crossed into the sun’s direct heat.

“yeah,” you exhaled, at a loss for words under the confines of her entrancing beauty. you stood there a second longer, before suddenly snapping out of your daze, clearing your throat. “i’m, uh, gonna head to the station, i think,” you stuttered, despite your usual propensity for word flow heard throughout the WLF base every morning.

“desperate to get rid of me?” abby faux gasps.

you sputtered at her accusation, “no-no, i-“

“shhhh-shhh, i know honey, i know,” she cuts you off, bitable lips curling up into a half-smirk.

traitorous feet already walking their way towards the radio station, you desperately try to recover from your embarrassment, tripping over your words, “i-you, uh,” you try.

abby twists her head over her shoulder in your direction, cocking it in a way that makes your heart twist in your chest and a pulse thrum between your thighs.

“you can come!” you blurt without a second thought. “with me— i mean, to the station,” you add, trying to clarify.

faced with an jaw-dropped confused-yet beautiful abby anderson, you continue rambling, “it’s indoors! i mean obviously, because of the, um, radio equipment, but you know, you’re probably hot— well you are, but- shit- that’s not what i-“

“okay, okay, okay,” abby bursts out chuckling, which you’d enjoy a whole lot more if it weren’t at your sake, “you don’t have to convince me, sweetheart, i’m already there,” she holds her hands up in surrender.

your heart skips a beat at the nickname, brain racing at a million miles per hour when you catch the sight of abby’s built frame sauntering it’s way over to you, small towel slung lazily over one shoulder, braid swaying slightly with every step.

you swallow harshly at her approach, turning promptly around to lead the way in a brisk pace.

abby laughs to herself as she follows, “aw, don’t run, i want to see your pretty face.”

your face heats at the compliment, before proceeding to flush a nuclear red at another comment she mutters haphazardly under her breath, “though i’m not complaining about my view from here.”

she half jogs to catch up with you, though your supposed speed-walk is no competition for what she’d consider a stroll with her long limbs.

you see her looking-no, ravishing- your figure out the corner of your eye, her tongue pressed to the side of her cheek, as you silently yell at your cheeks to cool themselves down.

your eyes can’t seem to deny themselves such an appeasing view, though, darting to the side to steal a glance at abby’s translucent tank, and your attraction is clear, at least to abby.

“want something, honey?”

you cough in response, choking on the saliva you didn’t even notice gather as a physical response to abby’s presence (me), as the two of you, thankfully, arrive at the station at last.

“ladies first,” you joke, swinging the door open with the backwards weight of your body.

“such a gentlemen,” abby quips back, winking at you as she strolls through the opening.

the pair of you let out a collective sigh at the blast of cold air blowing softly from the studio. it’s a vacant space, but the constant flow of electricity needed to notify the base in the face of an emergency allows it to stay up and running.

you make a beeline to your set-up area, tangled wires running along every side of the desks, hooked up to all sorts of peculiar devices: microphones, barometers, fancy thermometers. abby finds herself surprisingly impressed by the sophisticated knickknacks you mindlessly twist and turn to read, as if flipping through a toddler-level picture book.

“where’d you learn how to work all of this?” she asks.

“stole some books off an old lab,” you reply, shooting her a shy smile, “like to read, i s’ppose.”

across the room, abby rests her elbows on the table behind her, crossing her legs and letting her head drop to one side. “smart girl,” she praises, cheeky smile slipping onto her face.

you bite the fat of your cheek, holding back a grin of your own before turning back to finish jotting down the day’s data into a tattered mini notepad.

you grab a sleek broadcasting mic off one of your shelves, shoving some of the wires aside on the main desk to make room for it to rest, before hooking one of the tinier cables into the mic, and twisting around to find an audio interface to plug the other end into.

“what am i doing here?” abby says all of a sudden, breaking your hustling focus.

you freeze, letting the cable drop as you look down. “i don’t know.”

abby pauses. “let me rephrase,” she strolls over, positioning herself lush behind you. she runs her arms down the sides of your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake in spite of it being blisteringly hot out.

“what do you want me to do here?” she rasps by your ear, your head subsequently tilting to feel the heat of her breath on your neck.

“i-i don’t kn-“

“yes you do. just like i know exactly the mess i’ll find under these itty bitty shorts of yours.” she whispers, “you’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.”

a whimper slips out from your lips, head rolling back onto abby’s shoulder as you meet her sharp eyes with your pleading ones. your legs cross, squeezing shut, humiliated by the arousal that had gathered in reaction to, what, a 5 minute conversation with her? how pathetic.

“don’t think i didn’t notice your ogling earlier,” she continues, tracing her big hands lighting across your stomach, feeling your skin rise and fall with your increasingly rapid breaths. “your eyes give you away. i know what’s going on in that pretty little mind up there.”

your lips part as you roll your head further, almost completing a circle. the way you’re faced, you’re breathing desperate huffs directly into abby’s own mouth. she grazes a hand up between your two breasts, hard and pointed from a combination of the room’s dropped temperature and your arousal, then sliding her grip gently around your neck, holding your face close in place.

“you think you can get away with those slutty thoughts of yours? makin’ everyone think you’re such a good innocent girl, but no, you’re just a fucking whore aren’t you? isn’t that right, pretty?” she presses, tsking at your averting gaze.

“eyes on me, honey. you can’t hide. tell me what you really what,” she says into your mouth, lips just barely brushing over your own, the fucking tease.

you pant, eyes glued to her tempting mouth, desperate to close the distance. but you’ve got a job to do, and what’s fun without a bit of teasing? she deserves a taste of her own medicine, the bitch.

“what i really want…” you whisper back, “is to tell the base how fucking hot it is today,” you say at a normal volume, pushing off her back, and finally plugging the mic into the audio interface.

“duty calls!” you joke, trying to calm your racing heart and ignore the dampness between your legs. you hook the final plug into the wall, hearing a whirring that lets you know everything’s ready to go, before stealing a quick glance at abby to see how she’s taking your unexpected change of demeanor.

abby stands frozen in place, mouth gaping, but tweaked into an almost-smile, evidently shocked. your stomach flutters at the hungry look in her green, now nearly black, pupils, roguish thoughts brewing.

you bring a hand to your heart, dropping your jaw to match hers as you shoot a mocking who me? look in her direction paired with a shrug. winking, you turn back to your morning duties and take a seat, tuning in the frequency.

a click of a switch, an automated voice, and that’s all there really is to it. you’re live.

and your heart’s pounding out of your chest.

and though you’re usually hit with the slightest bit of anxiety over the idea of being listened to by every single individual on the very base, that’s not what you’re thinking about. well, not exactly.

“good morning, WLF!” you chirp, standard lines slipping off your tongue with ease, “hope you all had a great night’s rest! i know i sure did. today is august 2nd, 2038, and boy, you guys in for a sweat today! let’s check in with sophie and see what she has to say— sophie, you’re on!”

shaking out a breath, you click a button to tune in a livestream from the second weather station across the base, sophie’s station.

“hey girl, what’s up?” sophie’s cherry voice comes crackling through.

“the usual. wanna tell us how things have been looking on your end?”

“you betcha! good morning WLF, you heard it from our girl yourselves, it is goddamn hot out! my readings say that…” sophie continues, rattling off her collected data in a long, number-filled ramble.

you tune out, waiting for your cue to list your end’s data as you bounce your leg mindlessly up and down.

“oh you’ve really got everyone fooled, huh?” abby drawls behind you. you jump, temporarily forgetting her presence in the midst of your reporting.

you swivel your chair around to her, smiling cheekily as you press a finger to her lips in silence’s universal sign.

oh? abby mouths. we’re still live? she asks.

you nod your head slowly.

“then you’re gonna have to keep quiet for me sweetheart,” she leans in to whisper at a decibel just barely above zero. “unless you want everyone on base to know how much of a slut you are,” she adds, dropping to her knees before you.

“what are you-?!” you whisper hastily, stopping yourself to mutter lowly, “i’m the slut? look who’s on their fucking knees in a fucking radio station.”

she presses a chaste kiss to your thigh, smiling and shhhhing against your skin, mumbling, “shut up and focus. the base depends on you.”

with even just the lightest brush of abby’s buff frame against your knees, your legs fall open, beckoning her between them.

invisible hands to pulling her into your trap.

“abby,” is all you can get out, panting in need of her touch.

“focus, baby.”

she pulls your shorts and underwear down to the floor with a swift tug, smirk haughty as faced with your dripping mess.

“knew it,” she mouths, looking up devilishly at you. keeping your eyes trapped in her hypnotic gaze, she leans in slowly, tongue out, to catch your weeping pussy in a french kiss.

“fuck,” you breathe out, thighs trembling in resistance to clamp her head between them only just to keep her tongue against you.

she makes out sloppily with your folds, hands gripping your waist tightly to lock your body in place, pressing you firm against the chair despite your incessant squirming.

the point of her tongue traces down in a tease, slipping just barely into your pulsing hole to steal a taste of freshly dripped slick, before running it back upwards to firmly press into your neglected clit.

“ah!” you hiss, head thrown to the ceiling as your nails dig into the arms of the chair, hips attempting to buck further into abby’s warm mouth.

“you there, station one? i think the connection’s a bit warbly today,” a crackly voice interrupts your mind fog.

shit. sophie must’ve finished her report by now. you situate yourself up as best as you can— seeing as how abby won’t let go of your hips, or move away for that matter.

“hey sophie, yes i’m here! sorry ‘bout that, i-uh, yeah. there must be something up with the frequency today,” you sputter out.

“no worries! why don’t you go ahead and share your mornings data with us?” she laughs back.

“yeah, yeah, so my rea-fuck-“

you sharply take in a breath, sucking in your teeth. you look down. god, if that isn’t the hottest sight you’ve ever seen.

abby’s looking up through her eyelashes, your arousal smeared across the bottom half of her face, dripping to her chin. she dashes out a tongue to catch the corner of her mouth, smirk wolfish from her mischievous actions. she lifts an eyebrow, matching your prior who me? mock, as if she didn’t just set every nerve ending of your clit alight.

and while you could be absolutely furious with her for fucking with you on live, all you want from her is more.

“everything alright, station 1?”

you jump. “i-sorry- just, uh banged my knee up.” you mean to shoot a scolding look at abby, but just wound it up to be embarrassingly pleading.

she pouts sarcastically, and without breaking eye contact she bows in again to capture your puffy clit between her lips, sucking softly while flicking her tongue over and over again. it’s downright sinful.

“oh!” you whine, right hand darting to tug at abby’s braid, keeping her moving face moving against the place you need her most.

“um, station 1, i can take over if you’d like?”

your face flames. caught up in abby’s dizzying ministrations, your body’s screaming to say yes. yes, as in, yes sophie please fucking take over. and yes, as in, yes abby right there.

and you almost do, say yes to the first one, i mean. but a stinging pinch from abby tips you the other way.

“i, shit, sorry- i mean, yeah, sorry. sorry kids! don’t listen to me!” you babble, eyebrows scrunched and hips still grinding.

abby continues to torture your clit: her warm, wet tongue lapping up every last drop of your slick and pressing it rhythmically against that swollen button. your cunt tightens around nothing, desperate for something, anything, to fill ‘er up.

shit, you mutter to yourself, thrumming pussy impossible to ignore. “the temp-ah-temperature o-on my end read 83 degrees on my e-enndd-god,” you carry on, breathless, “ahem. we’re looking at clear, s-sunny skies all day, so be sure to wear some sort of- mmph- heat protectant,” you finish off your sentence sounding quite a bit more like a pornstar doing a dirty beach-scene than intended, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“give me one, uh, one sec-cond to double check the read- readings,” you stumble out quickly.

“no problem! while we wait on our girl, WLF, i’ll tell you about what last minute assignments we still need people for, so listen up…” sophie entertains.

“abby,” you whine, covering the mic with your free hand in attempt to muffle your sounds. you can barely form a sentence with the way her nose nudges your clit while her tongue runs zig zags along your folds.

“i know,” she cooes, chucking, “keep it down, you’re on live.”

you silently will yourself not to cry out when abby stretches your legs further apart, shaking her head left and right to stimulate every crevice of your weeping cunt. back arching off the chair, you whimper out a strangled noise, “i cant, i cant, i cant” you chant.

abby’s drags turn to kisses, watching your legs tremble with an endearing gaze as she makes her way up your stomach and to your face. pressing a kiss against your cheek, then your nose, and alas, your parted lips, she whispers, “this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? so shut up and be good for me, yeah baby?”

you nod feverishly, heavy-lidded and staring intoxicated as abby bites bruises into your neck, only to soothe it a moment later with a flat-striped lick of her tongue.

“mmm god, abby, i need you,” you practically slur out, moaning her name like a ritual.

“you’ve got me,” is all she says. her calloused hand slides up from the bottom of your shirt, squeezing your breast harshly, as if she can’t get enough, needing to completely ravish you.

“here, abby, need you here,” you groan, emphasizing it with the buck of your hips.

“alright, alright,” she shushes you with a kiss, hand sliding back down to cup your heat gently, feeling your desperation. “right here, huh? you aching for it, sweetheart?”

your only response is to catch her lips in a needy kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth, eager to taste yourself on abby.

hmmph abby groans against your lips, fingers dipping shallowly into your coated hole.

“you can scream my name as loud as you want once you finish your report.“

“but-“

“you don’t want to let the base down, do you? how else are we supposed to know how dripping hot it’s gonna be out today?” she murmurs, emphasizing her words with a push of her thick fingers deeper into you.

your eyebrows scrunch, vision dizzy with need as you look up at the sight before you. a pretty pink hue glazing her sun kissed cheeks, abby tilts her head, finding delight in your struggle to come back to reality.

“c’mon, honey, you got it,” she purrs, running a hand to push the hair away from your face.

you narrow your eyes, pushing majority of the fog to a corner of your mind and uncovering your shaky hand from off the mic.

“sorry about that, folks,” you shakily speak up, “-and thanks soph. i’ll be out of your hair in just a second. as for today, we seem to be getting a light breeze coming in from the east at about 8 miles per hour, so it might hopefully provide a little bit of relief from the heat.”

in the meanwhile, abby hoists your figure up off the chair, shorts and panties still hooked askew around one of your ankles. a hitch in your voice signals your end’s confusion, but you continue on regardless, slave to abby’s actions.

she pushes your torso over slightly, having you put most of your weight on the desk as you hover over your mic, hair flicked over one shoulder.

“as for the air quality, it’s testing to be relatively clear. the spores don’t seem to be getting passed over by the wind, so no need to worry with the masks today! i’ll check in in the afternoon to see if that’s cha- nhghh,” you jolt forward, voice breaking and hips hitting the table as abby thrusts two fingers tightly into your heat from behind, twisting them to reach that ridged, aching spot.

“-changed,” you correct, exhaling sharply. your eyes roll involuntarily as abby picks up her pace, curling her fingers on every outstroke, other hand delivering languid circles to your puffy clit. you can feel the burn of her stare down your spine, head turning over your shoulder briefly to confirm, and catching sight of the two of you in the mirror on the back wall.

your flushed face, rumpled top, and trembling, kiltered, bent over position contrasted with abby’s working muscles as she stood strongly gripping your waist was a sight to behold.

“what would you do if i made you scream for me right now?” abby breathes out, grunting. “should we let the base know how much of a slut you are for me?” she asks, “fuck your special spot real good in front of everyone? right here?” she punctuates with a downright sinful massage against your g-spot.

she huffs out a quiet laugh when you rush to stifle a whimper against your forearm.

“nah, i think i’ll keep you for myself,” she says, tugging you by your hair to hiss “you’re mine.”

your legs nearly collapse right on the spot.

“like that, huh? now be good for me baby. you can take it,” she says lowly by your ear, fisting your hair back even more to take in your disheveled state before shoving your head down nose to nose with the mic.

you grip onto the stand in attempt to ground yourself. fucking abby.

“for now you sh-should be okay withou-ooout a mask on hand t-though,” you stumble through your words, racing to finish the report. “our trusty barom-meter indicates stable conditions— so i g-guess that means the- mmph- the world isn’t gonna expl-plode today?”

you fall to your forearms, losing balance with the aggressiveness of abby’s thrusts, walls clinging to her fingers, as if not to let a second by without her magic touch. abby kicks a leg between your two, sliding one to the side to spread you further before her as she slips a third finger in easily. your lips parts in a silent scream, hand racing to stuff it’s knuckle in your mouth to bite down on.

nails digging into the table, and mind begging forgiveness from god for all the fucking sin you’re committing, you speed

through a shitty conclusion, “overall, it’s a g-great day to sweat. that’s all i’ve got for you to-today. stay safe, stay cool, and enjoy the sun! bye!”

you rip the cord out of the audio interface before you can get the entirety of your final word out, loud moans borderline pornographic from being held back for so long.

“aw, you didn’t enjoy having an audience?” abby teases, fingers speeding up to coax more of your sounds out.

“fuck you, abby,” you gasp out, collapsing face-against-the-desk in pleasure.

“it’s okay, honey, your drenched pussy answers my question— i mean, look at you dripping right down my fingers,” she rasps, pinching your clit meanly.

god, you wanted to shove her fucking face into your cunt. at least that would get her to shut up.

“abby, i’m gonna-!” you cry, knees threatening to buckle.

“show me, pretty girl. fucking come all over my hand,” she spreads your sticky folds with a spare finger, swiping at the edges to effectively stimulate every part of your core.

you buck your hips back with every thrust, desperate to finish as you scream abby’s name like it’s the only word you know.

“fuck,” abby curses under her breath, arm curling around your front to hold your crumbling body up, hands busy bringing you to heaven. she wanted to live in this moment.

“ah- god, abs!” you weep, forehead digging into cables as you shudder in ecstasy, cum dribbling out of your overworked pussy, coating abby’s hands in your mess.

“god, abs,” you repeat between gasps, slowly regaining your vision back as abby lifts you up to lean your sweating figure against her matching one.

“so much for escaping the heat, huh?”

~ man oh man i tried guys. hope this satiated your weather girl needs ;)

827 notes · View notes

stevenssacrab · 6 months

Text

Collision

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: On a routine bike ride through your local park, you meet a beautiful stranger in unique way.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mentions of blood, and wound care, descriptions of a bike accident

Word Count: 1.0k

a/n: Just a lil short and sweet one, with the ever beautiful Natasha :D

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

The cool autumn air gently nips at your skin, your cheeks round and rosy pink; you always loved a good evening bike ride around your local park; you first started it as a way to get the daily exercise, but you've grown to love the repetitive motion of pushing the petals, and the wind blowing past your face. Today was particularly beautiful; the sun was setting, a ray of crimson and amber painting the sky.

You like to use this time to unwind and think of nothing substantial, no deadlines, upcoming events, or obligations; be in the moment. As you round your 2nd lap around the park, you’re stuck on whether you should do another lap, while deep in thought, you don’t even see the person riding straight for you at an ungodly speed.

“Hey! Watch out!” A bystander yells, but it is already too late; time slows each second longer than the last as you come speeding toward this woman on her bike; there is no avoiding it; it is already happening. You collided with a painful crack, sending you flying over, landing hard on your shoulder, and tumbling forward.

When you open your eyes, you're greeted by a gorgeous woman, her face etched with worry. Her mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything she's saying. You're lost in her eyes, a beautiful mix of blueish green with flicks of amber; she slowly waves her hand in front of your face, snapping back into reality.

"Hello? Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't see you until it was too late." she said, her eyes scanning you for injuries, her face dropping when she saw blood coming from your forehead. "Oh my god, I have a first aid kit in my car; I'll be right back," she said quickly; you watched her run away and disappear momentarily behind the trees; you were inspecting the damage when you heard footsteps running toward you. Your eyes scan over her physique; you definitely overlooked that before.

"Okay, let me take a look," she said smoothly, setting the kit down next to you; she cracked open a water bottle and grabbed your hand; she softly put the water bottle into your hand.

"Here, take this," she says while grabbing a packet of ibuprofen; handing you the tablet, she patiently waits for you to do as instructed; you stare at her, mouth agape, "please," she says, gently motioning at the medication, you obey and swallow the pill, you're staring at her, thoroughly aware that you still haven't spoken a word.

"Th-thank you," you say meekly; you look at the palms of your hands.

"You're welcome," she chirps happily, "Let me take a look," she says, cracking open another water bottle; she pours it onto a towel and gently pats your forehead clean.

"So, what's your name?" she asks, focused on your wound.

"Y/N," you say gingerly, using the opportunity to take in every detail of her face, noticing the 2 moles on her cheek.

"You know it's rude to stare?" she quips, never breaking her focus.

"I-I'm not staring; you're just, in front of me is all." you defended

"Uh-huh, sure," she says cockily, flicking her eyes down to meet yours, you try to hold contact, but when she looks at you, you feel as if she's staring right into your soul.

"So, what do you do?" she asks, trying to fill the silence.

"I'm a firefighter," you say proudly.

"Oh, well, that's unexpected," she says, searching for the Neosporin, "how is a firefighter so clumsy?" she teases, her lips coming to a smirk.

"Clumsy? I'm pretty sure you ran into me," you laugh back.

"Why don't you let me make it up to you over coffee?" she says slyly, her eyes snapping to your lips and then back to your eyes.

"Hmm, I suppose," you tease back as you grab the Neosporin from the kit, handing it to her; she generously applies it, eyes watching your face for any hints of pain.

"Do you live around the area?" she asks, firming her hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, like a 5-minute bike ride from here," you say; you're usually not this open with your personal information, but something about her, you know she's one of the good ones; she grabs a large bandaid and cautiously covers the wound.

"There you go, all better." She leaned back and started putting all the supplies away.

"Oh, let me help you," you say, suddenly moving to help, you knock over the entire box.

"I'm sorry, let me help you," you say; you kneel down and frantically clean up the mess.

"Y/N, relax," she says calmly; she kneels down and helps you clean up.

"Not clumsy, huh?" she says coyly, lifting her brow slightly.

"I'm not. I'm just nervous," you laugh, nervously staring at the ground.

"Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" she questions, slowly closing the space between you, inching closer like an apex predator. You don't know what else to do; you are reduced to a stuttering mess, slowly getting pushed into a nearby tree.

"I-No, I just-" you stutter out; you bump into the tree, suddenly aware of how close she is; you stare at her, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Shhh, it's alright, Y/N," she shushes, gently grabbing your hand; you jump at the sudden contact but instantly melt into her touch.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" she asks sweetly.

"Okay," you say simply, leading her out of the park.

"I'm Natasha, by the way," she says, bringing attention to the fact that you hadn't even asked what her name was; you smack your palm to your forehead, shame engulfing you; how did you forget to ask for her name?

"I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask your name, ugh," you sighed heavily, hitting your face with your hands.

"It's okay," she laughs, breaking any tension you had left in you. "I mean, I did crash into you, and you did land pretty hard," she says gently, thumbing over your knuckles.

"Thank you for taking care of me," you say shyly, avoiding eye contact, "Well, this is me," you say; you let go of her hand and reach for your keys; you do it slowly; you don't want this to end.

"I'll see you this weekend, right, for that coffee?" she asks, patiently awaiting your answer.

"Yes, definitely."

265 notes · View notes

sapphicvqmpires · 1 year

Text

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ meet me under the golden tree

Pairing - shuri/black fem!reader

Word Count - 7k (my fics keep getting longer and longer lolll)

Contains - smut (18+), fingering, cunnilingus, soft dom!shuri, sub!reader, angst, fluff, hurt, mentions of character death

Key words - nkosazana (princess), sthandwa (baby), sthandwa sami (my love)

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - Her face was puffy, her lips swollen from all her crying but even in this state she was beautiful and everything you could ever ask for. She caresses your face with her thumb, wiping away your tears as she finally brings you in for a kiss. Contrary to popular belief, this was your guys’ first kiss. Your lips press against her swollen ones as you relax into her. The world around you went black and white, the tree and Shuri being the splash of colour in the painted landscape surrounding you

Song Vibes - john redcorn (sir), change (arin ray ft. kehlani), do it well (dvsn), wait (nao)

Tags - @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @heejayy @lustfulbarbie @abenomeiiii @shuriszn @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @gardenof-venus @vys-intentions @tiii-iiiiii @tishszn @myaraines @dominiquesheart @vampzxi @zayswriting

Writers Note: this one has a bit of everything, and I definitely took some stuff from Shuriri fics I already wrote and put onto a03 lol. But yeah, this one’s definitely a lil different from last weeks fic, but enjoy :)

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ You sigh, unable to fess up to Riri’s mocking laughs. You knew she was right, the way she would persistently tease you about your so called “friendship” with the Black Panther. The truth is, you’re head over heels for Shuri, but you could not allow yourself to be persuaded. To give into your feelings meant to be bruised by her constant subtle pushes once things got too close, too intimate. And it hurts you.

“Shut up Ri,” you respond, hoping she’ll actually listen to you this time.

“What? You’re not gonna sit here and tell me you two are ‘just friends’. I know y'all be fucking on the low.”

You start choking on your water as Riri laughs hysterically.

“You’re not funny.”

“Uh huh. What are you all dressed up for anyway? Where are you heading off to looking all pretty?”

You roll your eyes. No answer comes out of your mouth but your body language and facial expressions tell Riri everything she needs to know.

“Mhmm…very interesting indeed,” Riri taunts.

“Riri, I swear to god bro…we’re just friends. For real, leave me alone.” You were transparently annoyed, not even because Riri kept teasing you, but because you knew she wasn’t wrong. You enjoyed Shuri, the way she used her words to pull you back in even if she didn’t fully deserve your company. She was a challenge, and her presence was almost impossible to neglect.

“She’s outside. And you better not still be in my apartment when I get back.”

Riri chuckles under her breath as you get up and make your way out to meet her.

“Don’t get pregnant! We don’t need any little Black Panthers running around!” Riri yells before the door shuts.

“Fuck you, Ri!”

“Love you too, y/n!” You give her the finger before the door completely shuts.

Once you're deeper into the apartment hallways, you begin to smile like a fool. You allow all emotions to be expressed in between the time you leave Riri to meet with Shuri, because you know once you step foot into that car, true feelings must be suppressed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There’s a gentle breeze in the air once you step outside, caressing your face and scalp. It’s refreshing, but also a step back into reality. Shuri is leaning on her car, focused on whatever is on her phone. She looks good. She always does and it pisses you off. The olive green of her nike crew neck compliments her rich skin without flaw. Her olive dunks pull the outfit together, lightly covered by the bagginess of her black cargo pants. She wears her favourite gold chain, just subtly hidden underneath her crew neck but the sly detail makes your heart flutter. You run up to her, embracing her warmth as she brings you in for a hug. Shuri chuckles against you, flattered at the way you seep so easily into her arms.

“Missed me that bad, nkosazana?” You exhaled at the sound of her voice. The cute names she constantly called you did nothing to ease your deep desire for her, it was almost tiresome.

“I did,” you answer. You look up at her, noticing the gold layered on her bottom teeth. Your stomach jumped at the sight. The way the gold contrasted against her pearly whites caused your core to warm up, a throbbing sensation between your thighs and you had no choice but to ignore it. “Where are we going, Shuri? You called me late as fuck last night.”

“I just wanted to see my favourite girl today, is that ok?”

Oh she was infuriating. “That’s fine, but you can’t call me at unholy hours like that bro. I’m tryna sleep.”

“My bad, my bad. I was kinda desperate.” Desperate? You breathe in deeply, followed by a smile. You always tried to stay mad at her, but it was a challenge. She was too beautiful. She guides you into her vehicle, closing the door beside you. She takes her place in the driver's seat, and you could never not admire the way she looked handling the road. She always drove with one hand on the wheel, her tattooed hand always rubbing your thigh or playing with her jawline. Both gestures made you wet which usually paved way for your late night thoughts to be filled with deep skin, slender fingers, and curly hair as you touch yourself, her name falling off your lips as you dream of her below you.

“Y/n? You down?” The train of your tactile thoughts brought back to reality as Shuri pulls you in.

“Huh?”

Shuri laughs. “I saaiidd…wanna go to that restaurant down the corner over there? They got a pool table, and I wanna beat you.”

“You’re better than me at everything, Shuri. You’ll easily beat me in pool.”

“Soooo, is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes.”

Shuri pauses for a second, pondering on what thoughts are dancing through your mind.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours anyways? You’re always dozing off, I’m starting to worry you don’t enjoy my presence anymore,” Shuri jokes. You slap her shoulder lightly. “Ow.”

“That’s what you get.”

“For what? What’d I do now?”

“You know what.”

Shuri rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with me, nkosazana. The day just started.”

“Fine.”

Everytime you bring up the topic of ‘what are we?’, Shuri would take one step back. She hated the conversation, and she would disappear for days at a time once your arguments were over. You convinced yourself that it was because she just did not feel the same for you like you did for her. It was easier to accept that than the latter; that you were just a crutch, a tool to be used whenever she needed and put away until she decided you were of value again.

You knew Shuri was broken. She’s been through a lot and ever since the mantle was given to her, she seemed to be heavier. She was still ‘Shuri’, the girl with endless jokes up her sleeve and a smile that could ease sadness, but there was now a darkness that endured underneath and she would not let you pierce the surface.

She pulls into the parking lot, unbuckling your seat belt as she rushes to open the door for you. Her arm wrapped around your shoulder, and she pecked a kiss on the top of your head as you walked into the restaurant. You both order what you usually do; Shuri with her spicy chicken wings, and you with your chicken burger. The afternoon is filled with familiar tunes of laughter, as you guys argue over whether drummies or flatties are better. Shuri says drummies are better because there’s more meat and you argue that flatties are better because there’s less bone and cartilage.

“Black folk don’t complain about things like bone and cartilage, y/n.”

“Well this one does,” you chuckle, pointing to yourself. Shuri laughs with you, taking a fry and chugging it at your face.

“Shut up and eat your nasty chicken burger.”

“It’s actually really good, wanna bite?”

Shuri audibly gags and you toss a fry right back at her.

“Don’t make me come over there and bite you.”

“I’d like to see your try.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she mocks. You roll your eyes, chugging another fry at her. Shuri scrunches her face.

“You think you’re so funny huh? You’re lucky we’re not alone, you wouldn’t feel so funny anymore,” she subtly jokes. And it’s stupid half-jokeful threats like that that make your pussy pulse. You cross your legs slowly, desperate to ease the throbbing between your legs. Shuri notices, and lets out a soft chuckle. She knows what she’s doing and it’s driving you insane.

Once you guys are done with your meal, you make your way to the pool tables in the corner of the restaurant.

“Ready to get absolutely destroyed?” Shuri asks.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.”

Shuri was a pro and she laughed hysterically at the way you constantly put the Q-Ball in the hole, but she would let you have another turn anyway because she low-key felt bad. She would grab your hips and maneuvre them, guiding you. You would bend over the pool table with subtle intent, and you could swear she was looking where you wanted her to look. The game was filled with less of the actual game and more of Shuri teasing both your mind and body.

“Stop,” you pleaded into her, knowing full well you did not want her to.

“You know you don’t want me to.”

“Shuri…please.”

She did not listen. She hugged you from behind, her hands lingering right above your pussy and it made you throb. Your mind travelled to that sinful place consumed with unholy thoughts of how you imagined how skillful those hands were. She was a serious flirt, but you had to convince yourself that she did not like you for the sake of your sanity.

“Why can’t we just stay like this??” she whispered into the nape of your neck. You abruptly turned around to face her, submerging yourself in the depth of her brown eyes. Her curls were coiled to perfection, treading down her forehead like a waterfall. Her mouth slightly opened, revealing the gold layered underneath her two-toned lips. You wanted her desperately.

“Why are you so scared of commitment?” you ask. You knew this was not the place, nor the time, but you were tired. Crippled by the way she had such easy access to you without fully giving herself to you and your body. She let go of you so easily, and your heart sank at the crude gesture.

“Why you always do that, huh? Always ruining it with your stupid questions.”

The lump in your throat grows as you bite on your bottom lip. You fight the tears that are itching to pierce through, but you refuse. She did not get to see you like this. She didn’t deserve it.

“Fuck you,” you say through heavy lungs. You begin to make your way out the door, but you're stopped by Shuri’s hands gripping your waist, forcing you to face her. You don’t fight it. There’s no use.

“Is that what this is all about, nkosazana? You wanna fuck me?” her voice is so silky and her words seep through your pores, forcing your body to give into her. “Cuz I will, if that’s what you want. Bend you over the pool table if I have to. Give everyone a show.” She was devious. She knew the dominance her words had over you, and she never failed to use that to her advantage. She toyed with you, knowing you’ll run back without fail.

You look at the space around you. The restaurant is pretty empty for the most part, the people that are there are fairly good at pretending to mind their own business.

“Shuri…let me go,” you gently plead. She obliges, aggressively making her out of the restaurant and back into her vehicle. You follow her. She does not open the door for you this time.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The car ride is quiet and unfamiliar, her tunes calmly playing in the background being the only thing keeping you from going insane. You have no idea where she’s taking you, and you’re honestly too afraid to ask. You look up at her for a quick second, her jaw is clenched and her eyes are low. She looks tired and you almost feel bad.

“Where are we going?” you ask, breaking the deafening silence.

“You’ll see.”

She pulls into a park, leaving you confused but you let her lead the way. She puts her car in park, and begins to stroll as you try to keep up with her. The park was quite beautiful and secluded. There was no one here, but you can still hear the music of the busy city playing in the distance.

“Shuri…where are we going?”

“I said, you’ll see.”

Shuri continues to stroll, stopping at a pretty open field with trees sprinkled here and there. There is however, one larger tree that overshadows the rest. She makes her way there, sitting on the soft grass that grows beneath. You follow her, doing the same. Shuri stays quiet for a few seconds, basking in the wind that seeps through her curls. It’s a beautiful sight really, the way someone so energetic and full spirit takes the time to bask in what nature has to offer. You wonder what’s going on in that mind of hers, what hides behind the smile she chooses to wear everyday. Finally, she speaks.

“This tree reminds me of home. Not as strong, and nowhere near as tall, but still beautiful nonetheless.”

You smile, noticing the subtle melancholic gaze in her eyes as she admires the strength of its bark.

“This is where I come after every argument I have with you. I sit here, and reminisce on what once was…and think about all the ways I’m hurting you. I don’t mean to but…I just wish I could be better.”

You take her hand, and she lets you. There’s a question stuck in your throat that you so badly want to ask her, yet you fear the reaction she’ll have. Shuri has carried the title of “the Black Panther” for a couple months now, and not once has she truly sat down with you and told you about how she truly felt about holding that mantle. You swallow, before allowing yourself to ask her.

“So…so how does it feel?”

Shuri looks at you in confusion. “How does what feel?”

“To be the Black Panther and hold all that responsibility? I know you Shuri, you’re hurt. The thing about you is you hurt alone.”

Silence.

“Shuri…you have to be able to talk to me about these things. You have people that love you, that want to be there for you…”

Shuri’s face hardens, her usual sarcastic smile fading into one that’s almost unrecognisable. It’s almost like a veil has been lowered, paving way to what really nestled there and your chest grows heavy at the sight. She places her elbows on her knees and sighs. Your smile mirrors hers, fading as the environment around you grows cold, the air becoming thick. For a moment it seems like Shuri is lost in the blades of grass beneath her, staring intensely into the ground. Her head falls forward, as she noticeably gathers the courage to speak over whatever her heart is trying to hold in.

Finally, her heart speaks.

“You know…when my brother died, I also lost a piece of me. It was one of the hardest things to accept knowing I could have saved him had I had the time to come up with some type of scientific cure to his illness. But then he was just…gone. Taken away from me with little warning. Sometimes I regret not being by his side as he took his final breath, but I try not to be too hard on myself. I was trying to save my brother, and I was doing the best I could.”

“Shuri…I--”

“And then when my mom was taken from me…” she pauses and bows her head. Tears gently fall from Shuri’s eyes, like dewdrops. You feel the tears swell in your own eyes and do nothing to hold them in. Of course you knew that Shuri was hurting from her loss, but never did you truly grasp the hurt that came with bearing the weight of being the Black Panther. How could you?

“I did not want to be the Black Panther. That was never my goal in life, nkosazana. Had you told me a couple years ago that I was going to be Black Panther in a few years time, I would’ve laughed in your face…” Shuri lets out a faded smile, combating tears and fighting the swelling in her own throat. “I cut my hair when I lost my brother, as a sign of grieving. It’s a Wakandan practice. And I’m not even a spiritual person but it seemed like the right thing to do…for him.”

You look at Shuri, admiring the dark yet beautiful significance behind Shuri’s short curls that caress the edge of her forehead. For a moment, you remember Shuri with her once braided hair, and you remember the reaction you had when she suddenly cut it off.

“You cut your hair?? But why??”

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it. I really like it…but why the sudden switch up?”

“I don’t know. I just felt like something new.”

And you smiled at her. She looked good.

Your stomach turns as you remember that conversation. You remember the way she looked that day, sadder than usual even if she tried her best to uphold her same, sarcastic self. Her almond eyes were weary, and you were oblivious to the significance behind her short curls.

“I promise you y/n, being Black Panther does not feel good. Not for the reasons I am anyway.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tears to stream without halt. You wanted to grieve alongside Shuri, letting her know she’s not alone.

“I’m sorry…I wasn’t intending to--”

“It’s fine nkosazana…I needed to let that out,” Shuri assures you.

You force out a soft smile, adjusting yourself so you’re sitting on your knees in front of her. You heighten yourself to meet her eye level, cupping her tear stained cheeks as you bravely place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Shuri smiles tenderly, exhaling in relief. She grabs your hands as her own lips meet your knuckles. She’s so beautiful. Even in the midst of her pain and tears, her vulnerability makes you want to pull her in and take her pain away. If you could, you would. But you can’t. Instead, you just allow Shuri this moment of brokenness, evident of what she hides behind the bright sarcastic smile she wears almost everyday.

For the first time in your friendship, you feel like you know her. Truly, truly know her. Beyond her jaded smile, her capability to light up the room, and the hurt that comes after, you finally feel like you see her for who she is. You ponder all of this, making your already complicated relationship with her even more complicated. You loved her, you can admit that now, but you also loved yourself. It was no secret that Shuri was broken, but it often felt like she was slowly but surely breaking you in the process. The way she would lure you in, lead you on, and then leave you with nothing, it hurt. But you knew you couldn’t just leave her, and now you fully understand why.

“I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t give you what you deserve,” she says, almost like she’s reading your mind.

“And what is it you think I deserve, Shuri?”

She takes a deep breath in, admiring the tree that hugs the both of you, making you feel small.

“You deserve someone who’s gonna make you smile, gonna give you 100 percent. You deserve someone that’s not gonna make you feel like…this.” She holds your hands, just brushing her lips against the crevices of your knuckles.

“Shuri…I don’t need 100 percent. I just need you to be honest with me.”

She continues to look down, her tear stained cheeks gleaming against the sky’s reflection. You place your palm on her cheek, and she buries her face there. You love her. Oh how you love her.

“I want you to know I’m here for you, Shuri. And I love you…but I can’t keep up with this push and pull with you because everytime we get closer, you pull back, and it’s exhausting,” you choke up.

“I know, sthandwa, I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing that? It’s hurtful, but you know I can’t stay away from you, you KNOW how much I like you and being around you makes me feel…incredible. And sometimes it seems like you feel the same but then other times…not so much.”

Finally Shuri’s dark eyes meet yours.

“You know I love you, right?”

“No, actually I don’t know. I know you’re broken and I know you need love, but do you actually love me?”

“I do.”

“Then let me in. Let me be there for you.”

Silence.

“Shuri…please.”

“Don’t leave me,” she pleads.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. But I NEED to know that you’re not going anywhere either.”

“Everyone I love…dies.”

You sigh. Her hurt is so heavy, it seems like the atmosphere around grows thicker with each tear that’s shed, making it harder to breathe.

“Shuri--”

“No, listen to me y/n. Everyone I love dies. Do you understand that? It’s why I could never allow myself to fully give myself to you, because if I admit that I love you, then what happens? I can’t lose you. I just can’t, I need you, please don’t leave me,” she cries through shattered breaths. She is sobbing, her face buried into your hands as your knuckles collect every tear that streams down. The sight of her in complete and utter surrender to her brokenness forces you to pull her in, her head seeping into your chest as she weeps into the fabric of your shirt. You hold her like your life depends on it, like HER life depends on it.

“Sshhh, baby it’s ok. It’s ok baby, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. It’s ok.” You repeat those words over and over again, as many times as necessary until she believes it. You hold her in your embrace, as her stifling sobs become less and less. Even when her sobs come to a halt, she lingers in your grasp, basking in your scent that she loves dearly. You remind her of home and you wanted to be her home, even if that meant having to deal with the reality of her shattered heart. It didn’t matter to you, because you were more than willing to pick up the pieces along the way and fix it like a 1000-piece puzzle. Shuri clears her throat, wiping the tears off her face as she comes back up to meet your gaze. Her face was puffy, her lips swollen from all her crying but even in this state she was beautiful and everything you could ever ask for. She caresses your face with her thumb, wiping away your tears as she finally brings you in for a kiss. Contrary to popular belief, this was your guys’ first kiss. Your lips press against her swollen ones as you relax into her. The world around you went black and white, the tree and Shuri being the splash of colour in the painted landscape surrounding you. She releases you from the passion of her lips and for the first time, everything was right.

“Let me take you home, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

You guys kiss once more before leaving the comfort of the tree above.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The car ride allows Shuri to come back down, her sarcastic self returning after pouring her heart before you. This time, it felt lighter. Because even though you have always loved the part of her that was able to consistently bring laughter to your lips, you love it even more now that she has nothing to hide from you.

When you guys reach your apartment, Shuri continues with her usual gestures; unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the door for you. She follows you into your complex, leaning on the door frame in anticipation. On any other day, she would invite herself in without your permission but not this time.

“Can I come in?”

You chuckle at the question. “Of course you can come in.”

You get comfortable in your satin pink Victoria Secret Pyjama set, shorts with a matching button up top. You slide on your fluffy slippers and walk back out as Shuri is clicking away at netflix. Shuri laughs at the sight of you in your pj’s and you give her the finger.

“What? I think you look cute.”

You roll your eyes, taking your place beside her as she continues searching for a movie.

“I don’t see why everyone raves so much about netflix. There’s nothing good on here anyways,” she teases, setting the night on a good tune. You snatch the remote from her hand, looking for your favourite comfort movie.

“What are you looking for?”

“The Greatest Showman.”

“Say what now?”

You hit her on the shoulder, laughing at the way she bugs you.

“It’s a musical. It’s good.”

“Fuck a musical. Imagine if we actually broke into song in real life, that’s how stupid it looks.”

“You’re insane. Musicals are amazing.”

“Whatever. If you wanna watch it, then I wanna watch it.”

You rest your head on her lap as she caresses the curls on your head. She rudely takes the remote and pauses halfway through the movie.

“The fuck was that for? It’s not done.”

“I know, but I’m done. This is boring.”

You alter your position, the back of your head resting on her thighs as you look directly up at her. She lets out a crooked smile, and your heart trembles at the site of gold shimmering on her bottom teeth.

“Those look good on you. Like, really good on you.”

“Thanks, I made them myself.”

Of course she did.

“Well, what do you want to do then?” you ask, unsure if you’re hinting at something deeper or not.

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do.”

“Bullshit. I wanted to watch The Greatest Showma--”

“You know what I mean, nkosazana,” she cuts you off. “Don’t be difficult.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, as you ponder her words. It was all so much. Normally, she would tease you with just the right amount of sex just enough to get you aroused, making sure her grasp on you is still there, and do nothing to ease your sexual frustrations and it was almost hurtful. You desired her in every way possible, yet she denied you the pleasure of her. Was this time any different?

“Shuri, don’t. Every time you do this, you rile me up, get me wet and then leave me hanging. It’s annoying.”

“I get you wet?” she teases.

“Don’t act oblivious. You know you do and you do it on purpose.”

Shuri chuckles at the way you’re so easy to piss off.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

You remove yourself from her lap, sighing in annoyance as your cunt grows damp…again. Shuri kisses you, and you moan into her mouth at the contact of her grills. You didn’t fully notice them earlier when you shared your first kiss, but now you do and your mind pictures the gold grazing other places, and that’s the end of it. The kissing becomes more and more aggressive, forcing you to straddle Shuri. You hover over her lap as you begin to grind lightly.

“Open your mouth,” Shuri whispers, low and husky in her demand. You obey, as Shuri slips her tongue inside, tasting the way you salivate for her. She grabs your waist, influencing the way you grind into her crotch and it makes your pussy pulse in desperation. She pauses as she admires you. You’re so worn down and tired, not only from the intense day you shared with her but because of the endless war you had between your mind and your heart for Shuri. She notices this, the way you crave her and this time she promises to ease your ache. She slides two of her fingers into the satin of your shorts, and feels the soaking wet arousal through your panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaking wet.”

You shut your eyes in embarrassment. Nothing is even happening and yet you feel like you can explode from Shuri’s words alone. It’s almost like this was her plan the whole time, to string you along and play with your emotions so when the time came, you would give in without difficulty. You bite your bottom lip as your light moans start to pool out. Your eyes soften as Shuri’s thumb presses your clit through the material of your panties. You rock into her, needing more.

“It’s ok sthandwa, I’ll take care of you. Here let’s get these off you.” Shuri slips the satin shorts off, continuing her slow and torturous movements over your clit. You tilt your head back a little, your breathing picking up as you softly beg for Shuri to give you more.

“Please Shuri, I need more,” you exhale. Shuri smiles, pulling you in for a kiss. She pushes your panties to the side, exposing your milky cunt. The wetness pulled with the material of your panties, making a mess on Shuri’s fingers.

“Bast y/n, how long have you been wet like this??”

“Since the car ride to the restaurant,” you shamelessly admit, trying to control the pace of your breathing. Your chest is heaving up and down, and Shuri rips the buttons of your shirt, your cleavage pushed into her face.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, sthandwa sami, I’ll make it up to you,” Shuri says, driving you insane. “You’re so beautiful,” Shuri continues, but your mind isn’t even fully there. You just want her, all of her.

“What is it you want from me?” Shuri teases, knowing exactly what you want but she wants to hear it from your own mouth. You’re so timid, but not timid enough to keep yourself from getting what you so clearly need from her.

“I want you inside of me,” you pant.

“Uthixo ntombazana (Good girl).”

Shuri takes her two fingers, wetting them with your pleasure before she slips them inside, pumping in out. She slowly, but surely, picks up the pace as you dig your head into her neck, moaning so closely into her ear as inspiration for her to keep going. You feel it everywhere, your whole body on fire as your pussy is screaming to release itself.

“I’m gonna stop pumping my fingers for a moment, sthwanda. I want you to bounce and ride my fingers, pretend it’s my dick, yeah? Wanna see your tits bounce in my face as you ride me,” Shuri softly demands.

“Ok,” is all you’re able to say in the midst of your pleasure. You start bouncing up and down, appreciating every stroke you feel rubbing up inside you. Your cunt is pulsing, twinging for more. You pick up the pace, your breasts bouncing up and down to the tempo of your movements as Shuri just sits there and watches the way your body trembles at her touch. You’re a moaning mess, every leap brings you that much closer to your release and you can feel it immensely. Shuri takes her thumb and circles your clit, forcing you to clutch onto her shoulders as you ride her out. Your head bucks backwards and your mouth is wide open as Shuri’s name falls out, your body sweating at the impact.

“Shuri…Shuri you feel so good inside of me. I wanna cum so bad in your hand.”

“I’ve got it from here y/n, you did so good,” Shuri assures as she proceeds to finger your cunt, curling them just right to hit the area you terribly needed her most. She quite literally finger fucks you, smiling wickedly at the way you surrender to her touch.

“Shuri I’m gonna cum, I can feel it.”

Shuri slides a third finger in, your pussy expands with ease like it was prepared beforehand. You moan her name unapologetically, dipping your head onto her shoulder as your grasp onto her thick curls. Shuri loves the feeling of your pussy widening as she pushes in and out you, assaulting your walls like your pussy belongs to her.

“I’m so close, baby, so so close. Please don’t stop.” Your mind is in another world, preparing your body for the celestial experience approaching the muscles in your cunt. Shuri slams inside you a few more times, allowing your core to finally release itself. Your eyes shut as tears pool out of your eyes. You moan Shuri’s name with confidence, as you bury your face into her neck once more.

“Oh my god, Shuri. UNH. Shuri…I…”

“I know baby, it’s ok. Let it out. Just let it out, it’s ok.”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god…”

Shuri lets you ride out your high before she pulls out, your slick running down her hand.

“Again?” you desperately plead.

“What’s that, mama?”

“...again?”

“What do you need me to do, nkosazana?”

You get shy and bury your face into the palm of her hands. Shuri places a kiss on your forehead, easing you of your embarrassment. She unclips your bra, your breasts pooling in her face. She picks you up with her panther strength and lies you on your back.

“It’s ok baby, just tell me what you need.” Shuri pinches one of your hard, erect nipples and takes it into her mouth, caressing and fondling your other breast.

“I want you-”

“Mhmm?”

“I want you to touch me, or lick me, whichever one works, just please…please Shuri I need you.”

“I am touching and licking you.”

You can no longer take the teasing.

“My cunt. Please, fuck my cunt, please.”

Shuri smiles. “Anything for you, nkosazana.”

Shuri travels her way down your body, leaving nothing untouched. You are breathing heavily, you have quite literally never felt like this before. Shuri’s mouth approaches your thighs, but she stops to spread you open a little more, admiring the glistening pussy in front of her, wet with the desire that she created. She smiled, proud of the power she had on you. She begins placing kisses in between your thighs and you push your cunt forward, signalling your dire need for her mouth on you. Shuri laughs softly at the gesture.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m getting there.” She plants a kiss on your throbbing clit, taking it into her mouth, sucking and kissing until it’s swollen. You are a mess, your mouth hanging open from the influence of Shuri’s tongue between your pussy lips. The coldness of her grill and the warmth of her tongue combine to create the most seraphic feeling.

“Do you want me to take these out?” Shuri asks, motioning to the gold layered on her bottom teeth.

“No, please don’t. Please, it feels so good, don't stop.”

Shuri obeys, taking her tongue into the flesh of your sex. Your back arches in response as her tongue meets your clit again.

“Shuri that feels so good, fuck.”

“I know, baby.”

“Please-please don’t stop, keep going.”

“Trust me, I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Shuri lifts her face off, and looks at your swollen cunt. Her mouth glistened with a mixture of her own saliva and your pleasure. She takes two fingers and inserts them into you, forcing you to grip the fabric beneath.

“You’re so beautiful baby shit. I love the way your pussy wraps so tight around my fingers like that. Like you’re molded just for me.”

“Unh, yeah…I like it too,” you struggle to say amongst your pleasure.

Shuri cocks a smile and continues to pump in and out, placing her thumb on your clit once again. Both your eyes and head fall back, the palms of your hands tingle with warmth.You can feel the nerves around your clit tightening and the muscles inside you begin to shudder.

“Look at you baby, you’re a mess. All because of my touch.”

“Shu-Shuri?”

“Yes baby?”

“Can you put your mouth on me again? Your grills feel so good on my pussy, please.”

This makes Shuri wet herself, although she already was. Seeing the power she had on the beautiful goddess beneath her sent her cunt dripping. But her priority is making sure you cum multiple times before she does. It’s the least she can do after everything she’s put you through.

Without hesitation, Shuri lowers herself back down to your brown pussy. She takes her two fingers, using them to spread your labia open, paving way to the fleshy colour that hid beneath. The sheen glaze of your juices reminds Shuri of the way sap seeps out of trees back home.

“Bast y/n, you’re so wet. So wet and puffy for me.”

She sinks her mouth back down, licking and kissing your pussy lips as she continues to pump her fingers in and out. She takes your clit back into her mouth and slightly bites, sending your mind into hysteria. The mixture of pain and pleasure, along with warmth of her tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge right then and there. And the grills. The grills just feel so fucking good grinding against your clit and pussy lips.

“Yes Shuri, that feels so good. Unh, I want to cum please.”

Shuri lifts herself off and removes her fingers, leaving you completely untouched and it’s unbearable. Shuri notices this and reassures you.

“I’m going to make you cum ok? I can feel your pussy throb on my mouth, y/n.” She climbs back up, placing a kiss on your forehead as she caresses your face. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe I made you wait this long.”

She makes her way back down, splaying your knees over her shoulders so she can reach depths you didn’t even know you had. She laps away, making strategic movements with her tongue into and around your pussy, making sure her grills are making contact with your enlarged clit. You're digging your hands into Shuri’s curls, trying not to grasp too tightly but you also cannot help it. You ride her face, circling your hips to apply more pressure. Shuri moans into you as the world around you goes silent, with nothing but the sound of raw lust spilling out of your throat mixed in with the wet commotion of Shuri’s tongue against you.

“Shuri? Shuri I have to cum,“ you whimper.

“Try to hold on a bit longer nkosazana, I’m not quite done. You think you can do that for me?”

“Ye--Yeah. I think so.”

“Good girl.”

You pause your circling hip motions, allowing Shuri to just eat you out. It takes every ounce of muscle in your body to not cum at that very moment, and it makes you squirm in anticipation. Shuri continues lapping away, consuming you like she’s starving. The room around you begins to settle somewhere between a blur and a galaxy with all its colours. You were going to cum, your pussy pleading to spill into Shuri’s mouth. You cross your legs around Shuri, basically putting her into a headlock. Her face is completely drowned into your wet cunt, as you proceed to ride her face. You can feel the blood flow between your thighs increase, causing the blood vessels in your pussy to dilate.You hyperfocus on the way Shuri’s grills play with your clit and it sends you over the edge. You feel it everywhere, from the back of your neck all the way down to the soles of your feet. Your eyes roll back as your mouth drops open, moaning in your utmost satisfaction as your heart pulses almost as fast as the nerves in your pussy.

“Oh my, OH MY FUCKING GOD, UNH. Holy fuck…shit Shuri. FUCK.”

You unlock Shuri from your leg grip, as she comes up and kisses you on the mouth making sure you taste your own pleasure that gleams against her dark skin.

“You’re incredible,” she says into your mouth, trying to catch her own breath.

You blush, still attempting to grasp reality as you push through your orgasmic high. She was more than you had ever imagined, surpassing every sexual fantasy you had of her prior to this very moment.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, y/n.” Shuri helps you put your pyjamas back on, and you’re trying so hard not to fall asleep. Shuri cradles you into her chest, placing kisses all over your head once again.

“So you’re a ‘sleep after sex’ type person? Duly noted,” Shuri teases.

“Shuri?”

“Yes y/n?”

“Stay with me tonight, please.”

Shuri lets out a mellow smile. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

She plays with your curls, delicately placing her fingers between each coil.

“I…I just want to say I’m sorry, for all the shit I put you through. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You look up at her, her brokenness piercing through those brown eyes you love so dearly.

“Shuri, nevermind all that. Just be with me, yeah?”

Shuri lets out a sigh of relief, a single tear escaping her tear duct.

“I love you so, so much,” she says. You know the strength it took for her to say that, to admit the love she carried after losing almost everyone that came before you. You’re so proud of her, so in love with every ounce of her being that it sets your body in an overwhelming fire. But the heat only cleared the path to the love you wanted to give her, the love she deserved after the world ripped everything she ever cared about.

“I love you, Shuri. Always.”

This is it. This is all you need. All you both need. You fall asleep in each other's arms, as you dream about the big tree. This time there was no brokenness, no pain. Nothing but love and genuine happiness as you kissed her underneath the tree’s embrace. ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

#shuri x you #smut #fluff #shuri black panther #shuri fanfiction #shuri smut #shuri x reader #shuri fluff #sub!y/n

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omgahgase · 11 months

Text

modern au were obi-wan is the bob ross of the PBS channel and cody tunes in for every episode

i saw a video of bob ross doing his thing on tiktok and my mind immediately conjured up obi-wan as bob ross, thus leading to cody developing a lil super fucking big crush on the pretty painter with a nice voice. i don't really know where i was going with this, but i had fun while doing it, and isn't that the whole point? the fic's under the cut, i hope you enjoy!

it started off as him dabbling in the arts, wanting to learn how to paint landscapes bc, as a nature photographer, he can capture nature's beauty, but he just can't paint it from his mind's eye.

he heard from his brothers about a tv show starring a guy who paints beautifully in simple and easy instructions so cody—thinking it's not possible to fuck it up if even his most creatively challenged kin can do it—can do it as well.

only, cody did fuck up and it's bc the guy who greeted him with a friendly, "hello there," and said that they're going to paint today is super fucking pretty and has the gentlest, most relaxing voice cody has ever heard. he's wearing a simple button up and slacks, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his eyes—dear god his eyes. they're a stunning light blue but under different lighting they shift from green to grey to—is that a mole? cody squints, leans in real close to the tv screen, and he groans. this guy has a beauty mark to the right of his nose, a little ways below his eye and it's so fucking endearing. he even has an accent, one cody can't decipher when his gaze is trained on the painter's—obi-wan's, his mind helpfully remembers—long, elegant fingers. hold a brush, a knife, gesturing in quick, stuttery movements, anything his hands do, cody's eyes follow relentlessly. obi-wan is saying something about happy clouds and reassuring his audience that even if they mess up, it's okay bc it's their world that they're creating so mistakes are happy little accidents and, suddenly, cody doesn't care about his blank canvas. all he wants to do is watch this pretty man with the velvet soft voice speak to him and say that life has its ups and downs but it's still a beautiful thing that cody should be happy to take part in.

and cody is happy, very happy, actually, bc with his new found motivation to watch every single episode, he learns how to paint. he learns newfound patience for himself that he thought he mastered after raising so many of his brothers. hell, he even develops a celebrity crush on obi-wan bc no one has ever spoken to him like that and, despite it being through a screen, cody feels as if he's painting with obi-wan for real, as if he's right next to cody, guiding him through creating trees and oceans out of nothing.

though, after so many weeks of watching, cody's crush stays as stand-still as ever when the person you long to know on a personal level doesn't even know you exist.

cody guesses that's why he books a little trip to the mountains, to take a break from the screen and from painting to go back to his first passion of photography. cody hikes through the shrubbery and finds himself wandering on a cliff looking out across the deep, green valley of forestry and rivers, content to snap as many photos as his camera's memory allows. he breaths in the fresh, crisp air and feels at home amongst the chirping birds, the sounds of shifting earth and rushing water, and for the first time in months, cody allows himself to forget about the pretty painter who so carefully carved himself a place in cody's mind.

(and in cody's heart, but he's not ready to admit how far his crush has gone.)

it's sunset when cody starts descending down the mountain trail and sees an open area overlooking the west. his photo-hungry brain tells him to capture one more picture of the sun's rays, the oranges, reds, and yellows blending into deep, dark purples and blues. he quickly jumps off the trail and makes his way to the opening through the trees, but stops short when he notices a painter, engrossed in his art and the beauty of the sun setting behind a curtain of mountains, facing the spectacle at the perfect angle—the same angle cody was hoping to stand in.

it's fine, though, because after carefully stepping around the painter because cody knows on a deep, personal level how frustrating it is to be interrupted in the middle of your craft, he finds a spot that's just as good as the one he wanted. cody gets his camera out and takes the obligatory photos his brain is telling him to take. After a couple dozen, he feels satisfied with the landscape's outcome, but a louder, more intuitive-feeling voice is saying to snap a photo of the painter.

cody doesn't photograph people, he found that he'd rather take his skills to the outdoors where he feels more comfortable, but now he has a deep, almost painfully knowing need to take at least one picture of the man standing with his back to cody. so cody does. he moves quietly, swiftly hopping over fallen twigs as to not step on one and spook the painter (and ultimately rat himself out in the creepiest way possible). cody has a stunning view of the canvas and it's breathtakingly likelihood of the setting sun and blooming night sky, but the man's face is covered by the collar of his jacket and the beanie sitting low on his head. cody feels a pang of disappointment at not being able capture the man's side profile, but the sun is quickly fading and he's in a race against time to still have enough lightning to showcase the canvas, so he snaps a photo.

then that photo turns into two, then three, and by the fourth one, cody's camera is bursting with shutter sounds that echo across the clearing. but the painter still hasn't noticed him. cody, thanking whoever's looking down on him, is eternally grateful because with how he's crouched behind a tree and pointing his camera directly at him, the painter wouldn't hesitate to call authorities on him at first glance.

with his need quelled, cody decides on one more photo for the road when a merciless gust of wind rips past both of them. the painter's hat floats off his head and he immediately drops his brush to reach for it, collar lowered and face fully exposed in cody's direction and—

"no fucking way," cody whispers.

click!

the fly-away beanie hits cody right in the face and over his camera lens, but he got it. he took a photo of the painter who, in just the few seconds his face was unobstructed, struck a chord of familiarity deep in cody's chest because he looks exactly like the reason why cody decided to escape into the mountains.

frantically, cody ignores the "hey!" called out to him in favor of scrambling behind his hiding place and desperately scrolling through his photos for the last one taken. he mentally curses himself for not changing the default settings and starting from his most recent photo as he fingers through the hundreds of previous ones he took. cody is almost to the bottom with the tiniest sliver of hope a frenzied, erratic thing rattling around in his chest when he hears footsteps getting closer.

he's there, he's almost there, just a little further down and he'll see if it's really—his camera dies. right in his hands.

cody lets out a frustrated, low guttural groan at his luck because of course this happens. he wouldn't have expected anything less when it comes to him because only cody can develop a crush on a man who doesn't know he exists then creepily stalk someone who looks scarily similar to said obtainable man. who's cody kidding? he's hallucinating, for christ's sake. he would've followed an apparition off a cliff if it looked like obi-wan and cody isn't afraid to admit that now.

the footsteps grow in volume until a pair of heavy hiking boots stand right in front of cody, most likely attached to a pair of legs that'll lead up to a man who's seconds away from calling the police.

"excuse me?" he says.

"yeah, yeah," cody waves him off, dejected and uncaring of how rude he might sound. he stands on shaky legs and shoulders his camera, eyes unable to move from his feet. he unclenches the beanie in his hand and dusts off pieces of leaves imbedded in the knitting. "Sorry about that, i'll delete the photos if you want. i know i didn't get your permission and it's super fucking creepy of me to just take photos of you—"

"on the contrary," the man says, "if you were taking photos of me, i'd very much like to see them.

the man has such a familiar accent that it has cody's head shooting straight up because there's no fucking way.

"hello there," obi-wan greets, grinning that sweet, gentle smile he wears during every episode of his show.

"uh—um. h-hi." god, could cody sound anymore stupider?

obi-wan's smile broadens and isn't that something? being on the receiving end of something cody's ever seen through a screen? cody feels like he just ascended.

"would you mind sharing them?" obi-wan asks, pointing to cody's camera. "it's not every day i allow someone to take candids of me, especially by someone as handsome as yourself."

okay, cody must've hit his head on something because the guy he's been crushing for months did not just call him handsome. there's just no fucking way.

"uh—i, um," cody clears his throat and manages not to choke on the embarrassed little stutter of his voice, then says with barely any mind, "yes, i'd like that."

if the sun were to burn out in that instant, then cody believes that the unrestricted smile obi-wan gives him could take it's place. it's bright and so genuine for someone he doesn't know let alone just met, and cody thinks he's undeserving of such a thing.

"wonderful. if you'd let me just pack up my things, then we can walk back together."

"i can help!" cody so foolishly blurts. he flushes, cheeks warming under obi-wan's gaze and...and he really doesn't care anymore. Because obi-wan's laughing and the corners of his eyes are crinkling in that cute way he laughs at himself when he makes a mistake on his canvas, and cody thinks this is the most mortified he's ever felt. but dear god is it worth it. he'll embarrass himself to hell and back if it means obi-wan can giggle like that again.

obi-wan takes him up on his offer and that's how cody finds himself standing stiffly next to him, holding open a briefcase as obi-wan carefully places each tube of paint back into it's labeled home. he handles his equipment with grace, the same way cody handles his cameras, and it strikes it then: that he's actually here. obi-wan is in front of him, talking about his reasonings for trekking out this far from his studio and why he's so particular about the set up of his paint, a fact cody knows from his hours of sitting in front of a screen with or without paint and a canvas, and he's speaking to cody in that soft, gentle tone of his that cody—cody can't make a fool of himself anymore than before, so what's there to lose?

"i watch your show," cody says all in a single breath. obi-wan stops talking, a bit startled from cody's outburst, and raises a curious, bushy eyebrow.

"do you now?"

cody nods because it's the only thing his body knows how to do while under the undivided attention of a pretty man.

"yes, all the time. i-i've seen every episode. and i've even thought of sending in a letter and photo of my paintings but i just—i never did."

obi-wan hums, inquisitive, the sound warming something gentle behind cody's ribs. "why is that?"

cody shrugs. he's not about to admit that if he did then he'd be acknowledging how permeant obi-wan's become in his life, a deeply-rooted thing that cody thinks about every hour of every day and has never felt such strong feelings for despite never meeting in person.

that is, until now.

"didn't get around to it," he says instead. obi-wan takes that as an acceptable answer, though, because as soon as it fully sinks in, he's leveling cody with a hopeful stare so promising that the warmth in cody's chest implodes, nearly caving him from the inside out.

"well, i'd love to see those too, if you'd let me." obi-wan swipes the tip of his tongue across his lower lip in an unsure fidget—an action that cody's eyes greedily devour because how could he not?—then he's speaking with certainty that cody only wishes he could have. "i'm not sure why we're meeting like this, nor do i think it's just a coincidence that my hat decided to leave my head and assault you like that." they share a laugh, a private, little thing that cody's going to treasure forever. "but i feel like—like something is telling me to not let you go."

cody eagerly nods along because he knows. he's felt that exact same stomach-swooping tug the moment obi-wan appeared on his screen with a blank canvas and an open smile, happy to meet someone he can't even see.

"same here," cody agrees. "i feel it too, like there's something leading me to you. a—a sort of—"

"force," obi-wan breathes, eyes shining in the dimming light of the setting sun. "yes, exactly that. i'd like to further understand that feeling, why it's there and what not. and," obi-wan takes the case from cody and steps closer to him, until there's barely a foot's length of space between them. standing this close, with obi-wan looking directly into cody's eyes, cody can see that obi-wan's taller than him by a few inches at most. cody would've never learned that though a screen.

"i'd like to get to know you, too," obi-wan says, voice a velvet soft litany in cody's ears. "if you'd let me that is," he adds as an afterthought as if cody would say no.

as if cody would say anything other than yes.

"i'd like that." he smiles, the corners of his lips stretching side across his face, a mirror imitation of obi-wan's.

the sun has fully descended behind the west mountains by the time cody and obi-wan are finished, everything packed up in the bag that hangs from obi-wan's shoulders. the ground lights on the trail illuminate the path back to the main road and they follow it engaged in conversation about cody's work and obi-wan's humble beginnings, for the tv show and even before his decision to become an artist.

"i wanted to be a singer," he confesses, shyly looking down at his boots as if they're more interesting than the disbelieving look on cody's face.

"you can sing?" obi-wan nods, a cute, little shake of his head and cody's heart soars. "i can play the guitar. and i sing a little, too."

"really?" it's obi-wan's turn to look at him, eager and nothing short of extraordinary. "amazing. then you can serenade me as i paint elaborate landscapes dedicated to your likeliness."

that pulls a laugh from cody, the sound a joyous echo in the forests space. "don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. serenading is third date material," he says, then promptly shuts his mouth. maybe cody can get stupider because what the actual fuck? he chances a glance at obi-wan to make sure he hasn't disrupted the casual thing they have conspiring between them, but his expression in unreadable in the dark of the forest.

in that next second, they step back onto the main road and underneath a streetlamp shining down on a large map that reads 'YOU ARE HERE' with a bright, red arrow pointing at their location. in the light, cody can see obi-wans pondering stare, the furrow of his brows and hand under his chin. cody closes his eyes, sure he messed up a good thing before it even started.

"would dinner tomorrow night at my hotel count as our first, then?" obi-wan asks, timbre high and expectant.

cody releases the shaky breath that was caught in his lungs, relieved. then, because he's feeling bold and stupid and so revved up on everything obi-wan, he says, "no, that would count as our second. splitting a shake and some fries at that mcdonald's down the road can count as our first, though."

obi-wan starts to grin that happy pull of his lips cody's seen as many times as he can count on his tv and he wonders how many dates it'll take to kiss a different sort of happiness to obi-wan's mouth.

"sharing milkshakes already, are we? how brave. we've already evolved so far into our relationship and i don't even know your name."

cody mentally berates himself because, yeah. with all the excitement and emotions running him through the ground, he forgot the most important thing when trying to shoot your shot with the pretty painter: his goddamn name.

"i'm cody. cody fett," he introduces, hopefully sounding cooler than he really is when he's pushing 35 and desperately pining over someone he's met just shy of ten minutes ago. though, cody's known obi-wan for months now, so maybe he's not a total loser. cody shifts his camera strap more securely over his shoulder then extends his right hand. "it's a pleasure to meet you. and you are?"

obi-wan giggles and no matter how many times cody hears it from now and how ever long he's able to, he's sure he'll never get used the gentle chime of it, how it's directed to and for him alone.

"hello there, i'm obi-wan kenobi." obi-wan takes his hand in a firm grip and cody swears sparks fly from their joined palms. "and, i'd love to join you for a milkshake. chocolate flavored, please."

that catches cody off guard. "chocolate? i would've figured you'd be more of a vanilla type of guy."

obi-wan releases his hand but holds onto cody's fingers, letting them hook over each other in the shared space between them. "you have a lot to learn, my dear. i have many secrets that people don't know about me."

cody sucks in an optimistic breath, eager to learn every single one.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #after mcdonald's they head back to obi-wan's hotel where they spend the next couple hours just talking #they both fall asleep on the couch and by morning cody has a terrible kink in his neck but he's also in love so there's that #obi-wan isn't too far off either bc he wakes up with a handsome's arms wrapped around him and he thinks he's died and gone to heaven #star wars #star wars the clone wars #omgahgase writes

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meowmeowriley · 4 months

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Please tell us about your Danny Phantom au you don’t have to actually write it out just your thoughts on it would be great! 😁

😈 The world will regret this. No but for real thank you for an excuse to word vomit about this cause fhdjddjfjfj I love it so much.

I've bounced this idea off of both @resident-idiot-simp and @tacticaltaxonomist so they'll both recognize the bits and pieces of this idea that I'm about to throw at your feet. But basically, what I've got is this:

Simon, John, and Kyle are childhood best friends that signed up for the army together. (Idk about elsewhere, but in the states you can sign up with your friends for a bonus, and you all get to serve together. Don't do it, but it's a thing.) They servery together, get their callsigns- Soap, Gaz, and Pretty Boy (Simon thinks he hates his stupid callsign), and eventually, Roba happens. So instead Simon going to Mexico alone, and being paired with Sparks and Washington (Ghost comics, my edgy lil heart loves them) the three amigos go together to work with the Americans, get betrayed, and captured. But woah, Roba is working in a portal to the ghost zone, wild! So Simon gets loose, goes looking for his friends, accidentally gets ghostified, and saves his friends with his new powers. They kill Roba, get home, get recruited by Price for the 141. That's the backstory. I like it. I think about it a lot.

Highlights:

GOTH/PUNK SOAP - V important. And he loves skulls, not Simon. That's just funny to me.

Techy Gaz - ye I like.

Base shenanigans as the boys try to keep Ghost's secret from Price

Ghost accidentally phasing through things he'd lean on

Ghost accidentally falling through the floor

Ghost going invisible to avoid getting in trouble

Ghost learning to do the ghost wail on accident while working with recruits and they all pass the fuck out

Ghost gaining a reputation as a hardass because recruits keep passing out (via ghost wail or ghost ray oopsies) so Soap (who loves skulls) makes him a mask to go with his reputation

Ghost with white hair and green eyes when he's a ghost, and black hair with blue eyes when he's normal. Best of both worlds!

Simon actually misses being called Pretty Boy now that he's called Ghost all the time.

Ghost just really wants a nap

Soap and Gaz doing increasingly outlandish shit to cover for Ghost accidentally doing something ghostly

Remember the Dani the clone storyline? Ye. Simon's got a clone. But Vlad, in this case, Graves, named him Gary.

MTF trans Roach, because I read a couple trans DP fics and I wanna pay homage to that.

Uhhhhhhh yeah. I think that's all of my scattered thoughts thrown together. I mean like, there's more, but this is already pretty long. 😅 But this lives in my brain. Just don't think there's much of a want for it.

But thank you for giving me an excuse to get my thoughts out!

#ghostsoap #soapghost #cod mw2 #ghoap #fanfic #text post #call of duty #ask #ask answered #danny phantom #kyle gaz garrick

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4acoffee · 2 years

Text

The Light In Your Eyes

My fancies are fireflies Specks of living light Twinkling in the dark -Rabindranath Tagore

synopsis. At a party held in Katsuki's honor for winning sports festival (again), — he finds that he doesn't quite mind being caught helping the extra with the annoyingly pretty eyes catch fireflies instead of celebrating, especially when he could see the embers in them reflecting so close to his own.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 1.4k words

genres & warnings. fluff, swearing, aged-up slightly

notes. uhhh a lil fic for what is hopefully my summer comeback. Maybe I'll finally finish those requests for this ol' boys birthday event from like a month ago and work on the pile of drafts that are slowly rotting away in the backrooms of Tumblr - _ -

Full Masterlist!

His eyes flickered down to your soft, glossy lips and snapped away just as quickly, praying that you didn’t notice.

Dimming rays of sunlight weaved through your hair and soaked your skin, making you look ethereal in the soft glow of the sun.

Fuck, you were so fuckin' pretty.

After winning the Sports Festival for the third year in a row, Katsuki’s classmates had insisted that they celebrate by throwing a party at his house in his honor. Despite his protests, the hag and his old man were more than happy to comply.

He really hadn’t expected that many people to show up, but now it seemed as if the entirety of his school was crammed into his house.

There were adults and students he had never met before in his life, shaking his hand and patting his back in congratulations like old friends. Even icyhot's old man had turned up, — nodding his head and muttering a gruff congratulations. Maybe he was finally making an attempt to pull that enormous garbage fire of a stick from his ass and trying to be a better person.

His classmates from 3-A had invited all their friends from other classes, and their parents had pitched in the effort too. His kitchen counter was overflowing with all sorts of snacks and desserts, and he couldn't go anywhere near the trashcan without someone materializing in front of him to drop something new on his plate.

Most of the adults were crowding the living room inside, jabbering on about the latest controversial tweet by a pro-hero, or exchanging pictures of a newborn baby from a cousin they don’t interact with outside of Facebook.

He scoffed; they might as well start a knitting circle with the amount of gossip they were dishing out.

Many of the students were out in his backyard playing music from speakers the size of his head, all littering the lawn and trampling over the perfectly green and even turf he had spent so much time meticulously growing.

Katsuki on the other hand was surrounded by his all too loud friends who were chatting away about something he couldn’t bother listening to.

The drink in his hands was nearing room temperature the longer he went on to disregard it, he was just much too busy glowering at you.

Your dumb face. On the other side of the room.

You were laughing at something some extra you knew from another class had said. Your head was thrown back, and your shoulders trembled with laughter.

Katsuki’s glare only deepened as he took in the way your hair fell in waves around your face, the long earrings on either side of your face dangling wildly as you shook.

You’ve been here since the party started and hadn’t spared him anything more than an, “Yea, I already knew you y’were gonna beat their asses”, — (which had made his chest flush with pride), — when you first arrived, before running off somewhere with your friends.

Not that he cared. Really, you're just an extra.

No matter if you made his palms get especially sweaty. Or if your skin seemed to glow in the right kind of light. Or if he wants to run his hands through your hair when it flows in the wind when you walk to the train together. Or if he can’t help but stare whenever you're in the same room as him.

Yea, — just an extra.

He pried his eyes off your form and loured into his drink. He grunted when shitty hair nudged him in the shoulder and raised an irritated eyebrow when he gestured wildly with his eyes.

Suddenly you were right in front of him, smiling and saying something he couldn’t hear over the music.

Shit

He scrunched his eyebrows, and you rolled your eyes at him. His eyes widened as you grabbed the sleeve of the button-up he was wearing and pulled him down so you could talk closer to his ear. His vision in line with your collarbone, Katsuki’s ears burned and his breath hitched in his throat.

God, What the hell did you want with him?

“Come help me catch fireflies outside!” You yelled over the noise.

He drew back and fixed you with an exasperated look, trying to stealthily steady the heavy beating of his heart.

“Fireflies?” He questioned. “Why would I help you catch fireflies?”

You rolled your eyes like it was obvious.

"Because there's a bunch of em' out there, and I don't wanna go by myself."

He looked down his nose at you and raised an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed.

"Why don't you go chase some bugs with those friends of yours instead of botherin' me hah?"

After all, you had ditched him for them in the first place.

You pouted and Katsuki resisted the urge to squish your cheeks together in his hands.

"The others are busy with the snacks, or sucking face with each other so they don't wanna come with me."

You looked up at him with such eager and hopeful eyes that he had no choice but to give in. He knew you were probably doing it on purpose too, you knew what you did to him — but he couldn't find it in him to care.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Fine, whatever, let's go nerd."

Katsuki prompted to ignore the delighted look the hag shot him from where she had obviously been listening from the couch, and the teasing glances from his friends.

He pushed past you and your annoyingly bright eyes, and headed for the yard.

He spent what seemed like almost the rest of the party outside, — at least until the sun began setting over the horizon. Casting a warm, comforting orange hue over the them

Occasionally he would point one out to you and you would dash after it to catch it mid flight. Soon you had almost all the kids outside helping you as well.

A handful of highschoolers darted around his yard giggling maniacally, and catching lightning bugs.

His scowl softened over time as he watched you prance around and twirl in your pretty long dress as you chased little flickers of light around like a kid.

You had more than a fist full of the little sparklers when someone called out your name from inside the house.

"Hey! Come help me pack the snacks!"

Katsuki saw you scowl at the interruption and yell back a reply. You spun around until your gaze landed on him and you started making your way towards him.

"What do you want now." He asked when you were right in front of him.

You didn't answer him, — but with the hand not holding the fireflies, you picked up one of his big, scarred hands and cradled it in your much smaller ones.

He watched in surprise, as soft fingers gently pried his hand open, and one by one began placing the small flashing beetles in his palm.

His eyes roamed unabashedly over your face while you worked, — taking in the way your eyebrows scrunched over eyes narrowed in concentration, and the way your lips mouthed numbers as you counted them.

Someone hollered your name from inside again and you threw her head back in annoyance. “I’m coming, give me a minute!”

Looking back, you cupped your hand over his to make sure the fireflies didn't escape and turned your big doe eyes up at him.

His heart stuttered annoyingly at the proximity, and he had to hold himself back from accidentally setting off explosions from his hands.

Surely you were doing this on purpose, Katsuki thought, as he tried not to focus on the way your skin felt on his hands, or the shadow of your lashes, thick with liner when you blinked.

From this close he could count your individual eyelashes and make out the small lights dancing around your irises from the reflections of other lightning bugs glowing around them.

His eyes flickered down to your soft, glossy lips and snapped away just as quickly, praying that you didn’t notice.

Dimming rays of sunlight weaved through your hair and soaked your skin, making you look ethereal in the soft glow of the sun.

Fuck, you were so fuckin' pretty.

“Don’t let them go, ok?” You whispered quickly.

Katsuki’s lips twitched.

You let go of his hand, and he curled his fingers over them to keep the bugs in place. He could feel the little things scurrying around in his palm.

“Be careful with them, and I’ll be right back, alright.” You told him.

He straightened and nodded resolutely.

You beamed blindingly at him, and for a moment, — All Might could have sucker punched him in the face and he wouldn't have noticed.

Turning on your heel, you took off in the direction of the house, your dress swaying around your ankles as you moved.

Deflating, he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he watched your form disappear inside.

Doing a double take, he saw his own mother staring back at him from out the window with a shit-eating grin that he knew all too well. He groaned out loud in annoyance.

She knew.

467 notes · View notes

womburt · 2 years

Note

Is it mumbo withdrawal request time? /j

A reader that is really scary and tough looking and that came from the DSMP, they don't care about relationships and haven't really been in one or had the time (they could be like...Doc's really good and longtime friend as well).

They join hermitcraft to run away from the DSMP and as Doc is showing them around, they meet and lock eyes with Mumbo and its basically a "love at first sight" moment. Mumbo is all nervous, both because the reader is scary and "omg they are so pretty 👉👈", but that makes the reader fall in love even more because "oh my god he's suck a dumbass dork"

After that meeting Doc starts teasing the reader and the reader starts acting like they don't know what he's talking about, basically acting like a tsundere LMAOOO

Fresh Start; C. Mumbo x Reader

Hi Anon! I decided to be sort of vague with Reader’s background for this request because I actually don't really consume DSMP media! (Except for @secretsandwriting amazing smau you can find here) That being said, I still love this dynamic, so I hope you enjoy regardless!

Also! The beginning of this is a lil bit sadder than I initially intended! Be cautious dear readers <3

*Warning! This fic contains mentions of anxiety and traumatic past! Don’t read if this could upset you!

------

Y/n lifted a hand to their forehead, blocking the rays of sun that threatened to blind them. They squinted when their limb was only partially successful, finally giving up entirely and just looking away from the sky. Straight ahead was a treeline made up of dark oak. Y/n spun around, taking in a full 360 degrees of the Hermitcraft server.

Buildings were situated along a vast, dwindling river. Fields of wheat grew along the sides of a structure labeled “GigaPies.” There were giant trees - some with green canopies and one with pink - shading the walkways. A tall tower of diorite stood above all else. Each inch of the spawn area was beautifully decorated with an array of build styles and genres.

Y/n wrinkled their nose, unused to seeing such harmony in a home. Their previous server had not been so peaceful. They turned away from the busy looking town, eyes settling instead on the portal from which they’d come.

It was a temporary structure. One that would only exist for a few moments longer. Its purpose was to bring them from the vacuum between servers to Hermitcraft, and it had done its job. Still - Y/n wasn’t sure if they were satisfied with it.

Y/n looked into its pixels contemplatively. They could just walk back through and none would be the wiser. Return to the space between servers, find somewhere more…solitary to exist while they built up the courage to be around people again. Surely Doc would forgive them if they explained it to him. They could picture the message they’d send him, cold and alone.

“Sorry bud, my crippling anxiety got the best of me and I chickened out. Maybe next time!”

Before they could step back through the passageway, it disappeared. Y/n watched as the portal closed, disappearing into nonexistence - their only escape: vanished.

They sighed to themselves quietly, shoving their hands into their pockets and turning back toward the lively-looking village. It seemed they had no choice then.

They began walking toward civilization with heavy feet, on the lookout of the structure Doc had told them to meet him at.

‘The giant birch tree! You can’t miss it! I’ll be waiting at the base of it!’

He’d been right of course. There was no missing the gargantuan pale tree, which Y/n had later been informed was named ‘the Tree of Whimsy.’ They hiked toward it at a steady pace, keeping an eye out for any stray mobs or threats.

As they got closer, Y/n was soon able to make out a tall, green figure standing underneath. His back was to them, a white lab coat covering fur they knew all too well. Resisting the urge to sneak up and scare the only friend they had in this new server, Y/n called out to him.

“Doc!”

He spun around in an instant, toothy grin hung over his lips and arms spread wide for a hug. Y/n’s heart dropped at the idea, having not experienced positive physical contact in a long time. They slowed their pace, readying themself for the first hug they’d had in ages.

“Y/n, my friend!” I’m glad you made it!” Doc took the rest of the steps for them, wrapping his fuzzy arms around them without a second thought. He lifted them up, Y/n gasping when their feet came off the ground. Doc paid their exclamation no mind as he squeezed them, settling his chin on top of their head and sighing in content.

Y/n stood incredibly still, heart hammering and body warming up to the embrace. It had been so long…

“I was worried you’d turn around and I’d have to come get you!” Doc admitted, voice rumbling with laughter. Y/n coughed a laugh back at him, choosing not to reveal what they’d been considering moments prior. After a minute, the creeper-hybrid let them go, setting Y/n back onto the ground with a thump. They caught their balance quickly, feeling terribly cold without the touch of their friend.

“Right. Well, I’m here now,” Y/n stated, mustering up a smile the best they could. Doc, who’d always been able to see right through them, quirked an eyebrow, but didnt say anything about it. The both of them had long conversations over inter-server communicators. He was no stranger to the impact that Y/n’s previous server had on them, it was why he was so insistent they move onto Hermitcraft with him.

“That you are!” He replied instead, deciding that they needed his positivity today, especially if they were going to ever feel comfortable here.

“So? How about a tour?” Doc suggested, clearing his throat and holding an arm out to Y/n. They deadpanned at their tall friend, but accepted his offer anyway, interlocking their elbow with his.

“...and this is False’s eagle! It flew her here, but now it just sort of sits on that tree stump!” Doc was explaining, gesturing wildly around to each of the structures at spawn. Y/n looked up at the creature in awe, impressed by just the sheer size of the thing. Hermits sure didn't mess around when it came to scaling their projects, they noted.

They looked back to the river they'd been walking along, catching sight of three people down by the banks. Each was a varying height, though all seemed to be bent over in some shape or form, harmonious laughter floating from their trio all the way up to Y/n and Doc.

The tallest wore a hard hat and orange suspenders. He was sitting on the grass, head tipped back as he chortled. The shortest had large, colorful wings, which were spread into the space behind him while he held his stomach and wheezed. But it was the third man who truly captured their attention.

Y/n couldn’t recall the last time they’d seen such pure and unbridled sunshine in the shape of a man.

He was doubled over, clutching his stomach with dirty hands, smearing redstone dust all over his nice, white shirt. His hair was unkempt, falling over his eyes as he wheezed. But most interesting to Y/ was his face. Cheekbones protruding as a side effect of his smile, the highpoints dusted red with blush, as was the tip of his large nose. The mustache that sat underneath was dark and ruffled, shadowing a large grin and pink lips.

They stared at him with large eyes and a heavily beating heart, finding themself frozen when his dark eyes opened back up and stared straight back at them. He was still beaming, though he was mostly still now. The blush he’d acquired from his fit of laughter was quickly expanding, reaching the tops of his ears turning the pale man into a tomato.

“Y/n/? Y/n.”

They shook their head as a clawed, green hand waved in front of their face. Y/n blinked and broke eye contact with the mustached stranger, looking instead at Doc.

“I’m here,” they replied absentmindedly, though judging by the smirk painted on Doc’s face, they weren’t fooling anyone.

“Mhm. What do you think of Mumbo?” his tone was teasing, and Y/n quickly understood that they would never be hearing the end of this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they rolled their eyes and groaned, spinning away from their friend. Chancing a glance back at the mustached stranger - Mumbo - as they'd just come to learn, they noticed he’d yet to look away from them. His lips were slightly parted now, an expression of pure enrapturement painted across his beautiful face. They buzzed with excitement, finding themself looking to Doc again, if only to escape the pressure of eye contact with the beautiful stranger.

“You’re basically drooling” Doc teased like a teenager, humming his observation and pointing at Mumbo unabashedly.

Y/n’s eyes went wide at his gesture. They quickly grabbed at his arm, pulling it down so as to not draw attention to the man they’d quickly become infatuated with. It was no use of course - Mumbo hadn't looked away since they’d first met eyes. They could feel themself deflating with embarrassment.

“We should go say hello.” Doc decided, interlocking their arms again and practically skipping toward the people gathered at the water's edge.

Y/n heart felt like it was about to fall out of them. They were within the vicinity of the strangers in an instant, and Doc took no time at all to introduce them to the group.

“Hermits! This is Y/n, my friend and our new neighbor!” He exclaimed, pushing Y/n in front of him in that friendly way that only Doc could. Y/n found themself face to face with Mumbo, his features even more endearing up close. They were near enough to see crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, surely a result of a lifetime of laughter with wonderful friends.

“Good to meet you Y/n!” someone greeted from their left side. Y/n looked toward the voice, seeing it was the short avian-man to speak up first. He was smiling brightly at them, though they couldn’t help but note a glint of mischief in his honey-brown eyes.

“Yes, welcome new hermit!” another voice chimed in. To the bird-hybrid’s other side was a tall man wearing a hardhat. He too, wore a mischievous grin, one that gave Y/n the impression that he was somehow conspiring with his shorter counterpart.

It was silent for a moment before the shortest man elbowed Mumbo in the side, sending him forward enough to bump into Y/n. They shot their arms up to steady him, catching the pale stranger by his shoulders. Letting go as quickly as they’d reached out, Y/n cleared their throat.

“Say hello Mumbo,” the bird hybrid instructed, reveling in the way said man seemed to turn even redder. Y/n, judging by the exasperated look on Mumbo’s face, got the sense that poking fun at him was not a new occurrence.

“Right! Sorry about that!” Mumbo began, pointedly ignoring the snickering from the friends behind him. He stood up straighter, adjusting his tie and wiping his hands on his pants. Y/n watched his every move, memorizing the way his slender fingers dusted along the fabric, infatuated with his charming awkwardness.

“It’s good to see a new face! I’m Mumbo” He finally, officially, greeted, sticking out his hand for Y/n to shake. They took it tentatively, choosing not to admit that Doc had already told them his name. He was smiling so proudly at them, satisfied with the fact that he’d pulled himself together enough to introduce himself.

“And these idiots are Grian and Scar,” He continued after a minute, remembering the snickering forms behind him. He gestured to each in turn. Y/n noticed him knock Grian with his shoulder, sending the smaller man flying into Scar with a thud. He didn't seem to take it too seriously, however. Smiling some sort of knowing-smirk at Mumbo.

“Should we finish the rest of our tour?” Doc asked after a moment, poking Y/n in the ribs. They jumped in surprise, spinning around to look at Doc with an embarrassed glare. He wasn’t at all bothered by their expression - Y/n would wager a bet that he had been expecting it, in fact.

“I’ll see you around,” Mumbo spoke up as Y/n began to walk away. They looked back over their shoulder to see him waving at them, cheeks wonderfully pink and his face soft. They waved back quickly, turning back to follow Doc back over to where they were, intent on finishing the tour without another embarrassing encounter.

“So…” The creeper hybrid spoke up when they were out of earshot of the trio. Y/n watched him silently, waiting for Doc to spit out whatever he was thinking.

“The mustache..you’re into that?”

He boomed a laugh when they smacked his arm, the sound of the whack reverberating through all of their surroundings. Y/n wondered briefly if the noise had made it back to the mustached-man in question. They hoped not.

“Shut up!”

#mumbo x reader #mumbojumbo x reader #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft #mcyt x reader #mcyt #platonic! doc x reader #platonic! Docm77 x reader #doc x reader platonic #Docm77 x reader platonic

349 notes · View notes

ashes0909 · 9 months

Note

Ohhh maybe something soft like: tender, green and Trust(fall?) for Winteriron <3

Thanks for this prompt! It took a bit longer to get to it than I thought because, well, life (and a sickly lil baby) - but I hope you enjoy!

------

With gentle fingers, Bucky brushed away stray soil that had fallen on the leaves of his tomato plant. On a neighboring leaf, a ladybug caught his attention, and he took a moment to watch it, acknowledging its existence and contemplating it until it eventually took flight. Then, he turned to his jalapeno plant, which needed tender love and care, specifically in the form of weeding.

With a singular focus, Bucky found solace in this simple task. He could finally breathe away the stresses of his day, exhaling the need to appear as normal as possible, inhaling the tranquility that nature provided. His little corner garden on the Tower rooftop, he’ll be forever grateful that Tony carved out this piece of peace for him.

The door behind him opened, and Bucky didn’t tense or tighten. He recognized the light, swaggering footsteps—Tony's signature gait, the only person he trusted in his oasis.

“I hope you’re in the mood for tomato salad,” Bucky said over his shoulder.

“I’ll make a bruschetta!” Tony smiled. “You and your green thumb spoil me.”

Bucky let Tony into his personal space, even leaned in a bit to whisper his reply, “I believe it’s the other way around.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” Tony ran a gentle hand over the collected produce. “Though this looks more like tomato, jalapeno.”

“Sweet and spicy,” Bucky commented.

Tony closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the sun, soaking in the rays. “Just like us,” he mused, turning his gaze back to Bucky with a small smile. “Though, I don’t know if I’d call tomatoes sweet.”

“I don’t know if I’d call either of us sweet either.”

Arching an eyebrow, Tony shrugged. “I don’t know, Barnes, you’re pretty sweet to me.”

“Likewise.” Bucky felt something akin to a blush forming across his cheeks, but that was so unlike anything he usually experienced, he blamed it on the sun. Tony, though—giving him this garden, making him feel like he had a home here—was the epitome of sweetness, whether the rest of the world thought so or not.

“Our little secret,” Tony whispered, conspiratorially.

“Just like this garden.”

-----

If anyone else is interested, check out my Writing Game!

#writing #tumblr fic #winteriron #tony/bucky #bucky/tony #anon #soft and fluffy

19 notes · View notes

pffbts · 2 years

Note

Hello hiii so first and foremost you are a great writer 🥺🥺 i dont know but there is something homely about your fics, you make life looks pretty, soft, calming (yeah even when it is heartbreaking) through your fics and i lovEEE IT YOU ALWAYS TUG MY HEART :(( anyways thank you for accepting request!! Can i request something angsty (yeah i live for your angst bcs in a way it is still… soft) but please, happy ending- is this too wide of a request? Do i need to make it even more specific? Actually i would love any angst + happy ending scenarios so i dont have anything specific in mind 😭 any svt members, you can decide~ but if you need something more specific, i will try to suggest one later!! Thank you for writing!! 💖

genre: slice of life; angst; comfort; established relationship.

characters: lee seokmin x gn!reader | support: none.

w.c: 3k

author’s note: apologies first, anon, for the late reply to this sweet ask of yours. i hope after reading this lil fic, you’ll feel warm from inside just like you made me feel with this ask. so because you gave me the freedom to choose a member of my choice, i chose seokmin bc he’s the literally the love of my life & i haven’t written him for so long. i hope that’s okay with you? make sure to stay safe and sound, wherever you are, anon. happy reading!

inspiration: the dream sequence in this fic is real. few months ago, i actually did see seokmin in my dream doing the exact things i’ve written under this cut. and, i remember it vividly that i sat there on my bed feeling like i’m about to cry. it was truly such a happy day for me. i don’t think i’ll ever forget about this dream.

[05:02 PM] [he wished he was the blood in your veins, he never told you he was selfish, he only wanted to steal, steal you away from yourself]

―the cool watermelon that you’ve previously taken out of the fridge and had took your time to cut in almost perfect triangles has now been abandoned next to your sprawled, resting body, upon the open veranda that meets with the green sunlit back garden.

the afternoon sun’s warmth is gentle upon your closed eyes and you know you’ve seen this dream before.

in this dream that was born out of a late night promise by the one who wears your heart upon him like a keepsake from you, he’s making your favourite egg toast. his cream coloured t-shirt with wrinkles across the edges is facing you and there’s a humming of a tune you hear every so often from him. seconds later, he turns around and places the plate of warm egg toast and coffee in front of you.

seokmin’s eyes adorn pure crescents greeting you a good morning while the rays of sun showers him perfectly from the side making the ends of his jet black bed hair shine in auburn.

one night during the first week of this work trip when seokmin had to be out of country for one month, you stood in the kitchen with an expected guest named loneliness looming upon your shoulders.

in seokmin’s announced absence, you’ve discovered three places where you can still find him lingering. one, the kitchen. second, his side of the closet where his scent stands still like a clock that has ran out of battery and third, the rack next to the bathroom sink where he keeps his own bathroom essentials, most importantly, his after shave lotion. almost every other morning, you would take the thick glass bottle, holding it carefully in both of your palm and open the cap to gather a small sniff of one of your favourite scent in the world.

although among all these three places there is one place that makes you feel more emptier than ever and that is the kitchen. a place where you both would spend hours talking about each of your days, about things that bothers and of all things mundane yet significantly noted down in your minds. it’s a place where you both wind down, let the night fall upon your shoulders and make a home in each other’s hearts.

when seokmin told you about his trip, you thought you’d go back to your takeout days for dinner every night after work but unconsciously, like a habit that has abandoned you, you’ve found yourself coming back home forgetting in buying one. for the past two years, you’ve become so use to the habit of passing by the smell of seokmin’s home cooked delicacies that now it seems like you can never go back to how it was before he walked in the picture where only you existed till now.

you were making for yourself some chow mein for that night’s dinner while the call with him was on the speaker. you’ve realized this a long time ago that seokmin’s voice makes you feel secure in your bones. his warmth and his soul puts you at ease.

at the end of the day, even when you want to be alone in your room, away from all the turmoil of the world, you always like to listen to him even if he’s not always speaking to you. his voice could be travelling through the walls when he’s in the living room talking to his friends or co-workers over phone and you’d halt the action in your hands unknowingly.

your back will go all relaxed and you’ll exhale soundly staring at the wall just above your eye level with the cotton pad still in-between your thumb and forefinger with which you were previously cleansing the makeup off of your face after a long day at work.

some nights you’d be right by the entrance door returning from giving a visit to your parents and a smile would be automatic on your face when you can hear him being a little too enthusiastic on the other side of the door, singing the karaoke song he has been obsessed with since you have forgotten when.

that night when you told him while you stir fried the chow in the empty house, an empty home that belongs to both you and him, that this isn’t like you and that you cannot believe you’re saying this, a truth which is very universal that you really do sincerely miss him even when you told yourself you’ll not.

you told yourself so because voluntary solitude has always been your friendly neighbor. it helps you by making sure that time flies quickly for you and because it’s so easy to stay connected to people in this day and era, you thought it’ll be in no time that you’ll find seokmin at the doorstep of this shared home.

but it seems solitude has left your side and currently, in its place exist a whole being, a sunlit distraction named lee seokmin.

the man of the hour, who was on the other line, had chuckled softly. usually he would tease but that night, he didn’t. he held the phone close to his mouth and in a gentle voice, he told you that you didn’t have to miss him for long because, “i promise i’ll meet you in your dreams tonight.”

that night he sneaked in through the window of the bedroom like a climber and made himself at home inside your dream. he made you your favourite morning egg toast and a cup of coffee, just the way you like it, strong with no sugar. in your eyes, he became one with the sun that fell upon the breakfast table and when you woke up, in your shared bedroom with seokmin, next to the empty side of the bed, you discovered the sun rays had replaced the warmth that your love leaves behind every morning.

an overwhelming feeling washed over you and your throat tightened up, making you end up crying.

later, that morning, you cried again in the kitchen but didn’t call him. the kitchen reminds you more of him than anything else does. it is where his love fills you to your heart’s brim so it was no better antidote to calm you down.

you didn’t get up right away from your bed like you usually do when you wake up. instead, you sat on your knees upon your side of the bed and leaned down upon his side of the bed. you placed your cheek against the warm bed sheet and as the sun fell upon your eyes, you closed them from making you go blind and rubbed the warmth from the bed sheets upon your cheek.

he was here, you told yourself, nobody ever promised to see me in my dream and kept it so thoroughly.

since that night of promise, seokmin has kept on appearing like this and it’s always the same dream and you realized that you can never get bored of the same cycle of events.

even now that you’re drifting mellow in your subconscious mind, in the corridors of your dreamland, you can smell the coffee in the air and as your vision clears painfully slowly, you figure out his outline – the same old wrinkly cream coloured t-shirt and the curls upon his head all ruffled, asking for you to dig the tips of your finger into them.

only one more night, you said to yourself convincingly, and he will come back home tomorrow.

it was what he had informed you of two nights ago. his voice was a bit hoarse and it seemed the meeting that he previously had made him do most of the talking but he still made sure to let you know of his arrival because he knew you missed him just as much he does.

you wanted to sleep all through this afternoon and night, not waking up at all, until you can feel his presence next morning in this home so that your chest starts to stop feeling so hollow.

seokmin usually does both when he returns home after work. first, he rings the bell and then, unlocks the door himself before you can meet him in the middle at the doorway but that is possible only if you’re home before him during weekdays and on weekends, when it’s your off days.

although this afternoon due to certain intentions, he skips over the first step. he only unlocks the door and prays in his head that you’d be asleep because it’s saturday and usually, most weekend afternoons, you’d be napping after reading a book or watching an animated film.

seokmin trusted his instincts and stepped inside the soundless home. his heart was beating louder than it was planned but nevertheless, with faint footsteps, he walked into the living room and it took him no effort to find you submerged under the orange hue of the drowning sun.

placing the bag of grocery he bought while returning upon the kitchen aisle, seokmin takes some long careful strides and squats in silence next to you, eyes wandering to the abandoned plate full of watermelons.

he smiles and touches the ends of your hair that’s spread out carelessly upon the wooden floor. he doesn’t wake you up. instead, he takes the plate and puts it inside the fridge.

he decides that he needs a nice warm bath and a quick clean shave. maybe when he’s out all fresh and his body is letting go of the jetlag, he’ll take some bite of that watermelon because it looked like, even though you’re not good with kitchen knives, you took your time cutting the chilled watermelon in almost perfect triangles.

seokmin leaves you undisturbed upon the open veranda, covering your legs with a shawl he found clean in the laundry basket and steps inside the bath. he shaves the stubble that was growing around his chin and rubs the after shaving lotion upon the shaved area.

almost half an hour later when he steps out of the bath after drying his hair with a towel that is now resting upon his neck, he gets back into the kitchen and takes out the plate of watermelons he had previously put inside, picking one piece to take a bite and to savor the cooling effect it leaves throughout his body.

he takes the plate and closes the distance between you and him. seokmin settles himself down next to your sleeping self feeling himself somehow becoming one with you under the gradient of the sun that bids another farewell.

he turns his head around to his right and tenderly observes your sleeping face. his eyes follow the mellow ups and downs of your chest. without much thought, he leans in and gently rubs the tip of his nose against your cheek just to check how much he has missed having you next to him and your scent, the wind that flows against all his edges.

he cannot for the life of him wake you up when you look so serene because he realized it’s a privilege to see a person who is stationed so permanently in his heart sleeping like as if, finally, their world is at peace. after all the running and fighting with not just the way of this world but also with yourself, he can see you finally resting and accepting.

it’s a scene that countless painters have painted for centuries only because they knew that there’s always something new to discover when they look at someone they love – both things that the other person hides and things they place in front of the painter’s eyes.

although seokmin can neither draw or paint, he has his memory and in his memory, there are walls where now this scene joins many other paintings with you as the subject.

seokmin stretches his legs to release the fatigue in them and reaches for another piece of watermelon as he sits there waiting for the break of your dawn. he waits patiently for your eyes to be on him after a month long of estrangement.

as the dream started fading into a black infinite canvas, your conscious senses started coming up to the surface. squeezing your eyes, you fought with sleep and in the air, you smelt the strong, tantalizing smell of seokmin’s after shaving lotion. you felt yourself losing.

you thought it is impossible because you know seokmin is not supposed to be here and so this might be your brain trying to trick you. either way, you didn’t understand the point of this trick. you furrowed your brows and opened your eyes.

“are you not cold?” your eyes follow the euphonious voice that you can recognize even in a room full of people. they settle upon the calming presence of the man next to you for long.

“am i dreaming?” your voice that was supposed to sound like you’re in doubt sounded croaky as you had just stepped out of your sleepy state.

you noticed seokmin holding a piece of watermelon in his hand. he takes a bite into it and shakes his head and you can see him visibly beam at you. he seems amused by your reaction as he waits for your further words.

as for you, your eyebrows start climbing up your forehead while your eyes goes wide in astonishment, “you’re really here?”

“you must be dreaming too much of me to think that i’m not real right now,” seokmin declared in a convincing tone to which you thought, how did he know?

“weren’t you supposed to come tomorrow?”

“oh, that.” seokmin chuckled, “i lied because i wanted to surprise you.”

“so you did not ring the bell too?”

seokmin hummed back a no. he was very much into finishing up what seemed like his third piece of watermelon.

“god, i cannot believe this. so? how long have i been sleeping?”

“maybe more than an hour. i returned an hour ago.”

“and, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“because i wanted to look at you.”

“i’m not an artifact in a museum, min, you’re funny.”

seokmin laughs at your words and now completely turns around to face you. neither of you say anything and stay as it is in silence. there was nothing to break that silence until the man in front of you put down the hard layer of the melon he has just finished and shuffles around to lay down next to you.

you take half of the shawl that was covering you and place it upon his chest.

“i’m real. see?” seokmin tells you before pulling you close to him as if he knows that you might think of all this happenings as a dream. he holds you tightly against himself and you move to place half of your body upon him.

you tugged your lower lip in, suppressing an overflowing smile as you place a palm upon his cheek, “yes. yes, i see you and i missed you.”

“i missed you too. i even miss you now. i cannot wait to cling onto you until you get sick of me.” seokmin states his wish as he places one of his palm behind your head and pulls you in so that he can nuzzle at the crook of your neck.

“nah, i don’t think that’s happening this soon,” you reply as both of you burst into a fit of giggles, two chests vibrating against each other as each of you feel the warmth, the heart beats and the weight of each other in your arms.

minutes later after a long hug, seokmin unwraps himself from your arms and tells you that you’ll catch a cold like this if you stay this close to the open veranda right now as today’s evening has already welcomed itself at home.

you look at the sky and realize that it is indeed the truth. darkness has fallen and today, it seems like the moon resemblances the shape of seokmin’s eyes when he smiles.

seokmin gets up from the wooden floorboard and lets you take your time to get out of your drowsy state of body. walking into the bedroom, he brings out a hoodie for you and as he watches you wear it upon your t-shirt to warm you up, he offers to make tonight’s dinner.

“that’s one good thing about you being back home. now i don’t have to ponder over what to eat for dinner.” ….and also not be lonely while putting a single plate upon the dinner table to eat because you were not there, you thought to yourself.

it makes you puzzled sometimes how even two years ago you were happy enough to just be back home at your place and eat whatever for the night because you were so used to being on your own but now, you cannot recognize those parts of you in yourself anymore.

you’re too used to it now. the love that seokmin puts in your coffee every morning without you asking for it. so much that now you don’t know where to put it all down in words. you’ve forgotten when seokmin has come and added his golden yellow to your palette of dull blue.

presently, under this blue and yellow gradient coloured sky, what can you call this love? a feeling that can only be equivalent to the stream flowing or the rain drizzling? like coffee, you drink it down and offer to wash the dishes because you want to stay longer. because, it seems like you’re always dreaming since he has walked into your life with a suitcase in hand.

“i cannot believe i’m saying this, min, but i was getting sick of eating takeouts.” you tell him as you follow him into the kitchen. you watch seokmin taking out the vegetables he bought, “i was dying to have a nice dinner made by you.” you conclude not knowing what else to say.

“that’s why i’m here now - to spoil you rotten, sleepyhead. now freshen up, we’ll watch this one movie i found while we eat.” seokmin takes hold of your hand and as your knuckles get buried under the heat of his large palm, you realize that no other part of your body can ever be as warm as the space in-between your and his hand.

welcome home, you tell yourself, it’s been hard, right?

fin.

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hellolovers13 · 1 year

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First Line(s) Challenge

Thank you for tagging me @enchantedlandcoffee and @faithinwalls369.

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have.

Pretty Miscalculations

“HEY! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Louis didn't even understand that the person that came sprinting out of the shopping centre was running towards him until he found himself face to face with an angry boy, twenty maybe, curly brown hair held back by a pink headscarf, green eyes alight with anger.

known it all this time (of tiktok's and baby making)

It had all started innocently enough. Ever since quarantine, Harry had found his love for TikTok, much to Louis' dismay. And while Louis absolutely didn’t understand Harry’s, nor anyone else’s fascination with that app, he did appreciate Harry’s humour quite a lot. So he wasn't against being sent funny video after funny video. Laughing to himself loudly ignoring the weird looks he got from his crew for it sometimes.

London

Louis woke up slowly. Mind gradually taking in the world around him. Soft sheets, the lingering smell of vanilla clinging to the air. Oh, and there was definitely hair in his face and his own wasn't currently long enough for that.

Hits Different

“Harry.” Louis was confused. This was certainly not what he’d been expecting when he opened his front door. He hadn’t seen the boy in about two weeks. Ever since their fateful shopping bag incident when he let Harry stay the night and made him breakfast.

Wed’n Walk (Or, We Went to Amsterdam Together)

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. They’d had this holiday planned for ages. All through their uni time, they’d dreamed of going away for a week. To see Amsterdam, to enjoy the city for a few days. Night after night they spent planning their little trip.

Brit's AU (The Kissing Game)

Niall closed the door to their hotel room and pinched Lewis’ arm. “You’re a lil bitch, you know that?” Lewis pushed his hand away and stepped out of Niall’s reach. “Think you got the wrong b-word there.”

Unplant

Louis was so fucked. Royally screwed except there was no title to his name. Fuck. Why did he not look where he was going?

play pretend

it was hard letting go of a word that the whole world used for you, that you had grown up using for yourself. it didn't hold the same meaning when you used it on yourself. did it? just a word he

His and Hers

“Look Harry, they sell these separately.” Louis was standing in front of one of the small airport shops, pointing at something. They'd have to spend the next few hours waiting for their flight and Harry had already got bored with the book he'd brought, so he had been looking through a few books. Nothing had piqued his interest so far, so he put the romance novel back on the shelf and went over to see what his boyfriend wanted.

The Pros and Cons of Breathing

Harry’d always favoured his mother’s garden during springtime. How the flowers, hidden behind snow all winter, made their first shy appearance. Almost hesitant still. Slowly opening their petals under the first rays of sunshine.

I'm tagging @larry-hiatus @disgruntledkittenface @wabadabadaba @tommokat @alwaysxlarrie @lululawrence @lunarheslwt @neondiamond @onlythebravest @beardyboyzx but no pressure <3

#my writing #first line challenge #fic rec

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marierg · 1 year

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Of Light and Darkness: Ch. 26

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi X Reader

WARNINGS!: Anxiety, Language, Angst, self doubt, death, mourning, anger, delayed stress responses....yeah it's gonna be angsty.

A/N: Ok we're getting into the meat of the mission, a lot going on here. If none of you have ever been around military or public safety types it's an interesting culture and if you're not getting ribbed or made fun of then its a bad sign. With that in mind there's going to be some good natured ribbing in this. Also along those lines most of these folks are standoffish until new people prove themselves. Once they do though you're stuck with them for life, fiercely loyal bunch. Rizzi is meant to be written as a species that is gender nonconforming, my first time doing this so pointers are always welcome.

Picture Credit: Pinterest, Motorcove.com, artstation.com (Much appreciation)

Song Credit: Roll the old chariot- sea shanty of unknown authorage

General Definitions: LZ- landing zone; Bird- aircraft; CP- Command Post/ Headquarters; Earth berm- a large hill of dirt that encircles a location to provide cover and obstruct intruders; IED- improvised explosive device; Sit Rep- situational report; KUBAR- Karked Up Beyond All Recognition.

Words: 3000 ish.... yeah its a long one

Masterlist Next

The first day had gone smoothly, each team to their task. Obi Wan led security with the flight crew. The runway and LZ overall was poorly protected with only a few ray shields and some wood fencing. To say that he and his team had their work cut out for them was an understatement. Additionally the flight tower had taken several rocket hits rendering it inoperable. By the afternoon though there was a secondary line of hidden mines, earth berm in place, and a proper observation post. Obi Wan fully admitted that he wasn't much for bandaging, but he was very good at what he DID do. A Guardian's primary duty was protection and there was something very precious to him in that Command Post.

It was also Obi Wan's first time getting to know your work comrades, a rather colorful cast of characters. Joe the mechanic was a Dug of unparalleled efficiency and knowledge, though also thoroughly colorful in both Basic and his native tongue. Everyone could hear the mighty battle between the him and the generator until finally the power was restored to the LZ.

Rizzi was a short being of well...uncertain origin? With purple hair and green feather plumage and golden eyes they were the most remarkable and beautiful looking being he had ever come across. They were kind and had been mercifully pleasant company, making him feel more part of the team and less of a nuisance. Rizzi was the ground controller for the mission, it took them a half a day just to get the tower operational again, but when it did get working you could hear the victory squawk across the whole port.

Deek and JC had both taken turns ribbing him for being a “Piddly prim puddle plopper.” When Obi Wan had inquired as to the meaning the two pilots had snickered, laughing at the inside joke, then jutted their jaws at him. Deek had snorted, “Ain't no RIC worth their salt, Jedi or no, shows up in such pretty clothes.”

“I don't think I understand?” Obi Wan was wearing his robes the same as you and Anakin.

JC had chuckled and finally put him out of his misery. “Well your duds are all new and fancy, they're gonna be toast by the time we're done.”

“Oh,” Obi Wan had nodded now understanding, “I see. I'll keep that in mind next time.”

“Eh we just figured you was showin' off for lil Commander Chaos over there.” Deek nodded to where you were overseeing the med tent movement and patient flow.

“One does try to look presentable in the presence of ladies.”

“Oh Yeah...presentable, right.” JC winked conspiratorially.

Deek belly laughed, “That ain't no lady that's a RIC!”

Hours later Obi Wan ventured through the meal line, checking in on Anakin. The boy seemed to be doing well enough, though he was disappointed to be stuck on medical duty and not working the fence line. Obi Wan chuckled, it had been precisely both of your points to keep him away from the ships and out of his comfort zone on this mission. Having talked the matter over he bid Anakin farewell and sought your company.

“That is a beautiful sunset, though not as beautiful as the woman watching it.” He could feel the tension in your signature as he reached his own out. “Credit for you thoughts Wee Commander.”

“This is bigger than we anticipated,” you sighed glancing from the window back at the table in the CP and taking his hand in your own. “I know I'm usually the one teasing you about being a pessimist, but I don't like this Obi Boy.”

“Not to worry Wee One, it'll be alright.” He tried to put your mind at ease, but the set of your shoulders wouldn't budge.

You had grunted and squeezed his hand, “We got a long way to go.”

The Second day the Hutt forces started to test the waters. First trying to infiltrate among the evacuating civilians then attacking the defense lines. They even attempted to take two of your students hostage for information. A futile effort given that one of them was Anakin, who quickly resolved the situation by the edge of his saber. To quote your Padawan, they ran screaming like Porgs. You chastised him for having been caught flat footed. “You need to be more careful. They may be skugholes, but that doesn't mean that they're stupid.”

Master Windu contacted you that evening to check in. It warmed your heart that he still did it after all this time. More than anything it was reassuring to hear his calm voice. You relayed the latest, trying to sound confident and in command, but as always there was no fooling him.

“I sense that you are apprehensive of the situation there.” Those perceptive eyes stared back across the Holo.

“Permission to ask a foolish question Master?” At his nod you continued, “How do you always know what to do? There are so many lives depending on me, I feel...”

“Not up to the Task. Like they put the wrong person in charge? Y/n I still feel that way all the time, it's what helps me to stay grounded. As for the decisions that must be made, only you know best how to answer that. Trust in the Force and in yourself, I believe in you.” It wasn't often that you and your Master had these conversations, but by the Maker he always knew when you needed the words.

You wandered over to join Obi Wan in the observation post for a shift to give the young people a break. “Hey how goes the watch here?”

Obi Wan kept his eyes on the treeline, “Too good and too calm. I think you may have been right.”

Handing him a thermos of stew you took up the watch position so he could eat. Sighing, you grimly sucked your tongue between your teeth, “Believe me when I say I really wish I wasn't.”

The tickle of his beard brushed along your cheek as he deposited a soft kiss, “I know darling.”

The Third day is where the real trouble began. Torrential rain kept all teams sopping wet and miserable while continuing the evacuation. Glitch and Anakin were slogging back and forth through the muck escorting the civilians to the ships. Anakin had a bored and sullen look on his face, Glitch on the other hand was merrily singing in the rain.

“Oh we'll be alright if the wind is on our wings

we'll be alright if the wind is on our wings

and we'll all fly on all night”

“How can you sing at a time like this?” He was looking at his friend like she was a madwoman.

“The Gods send the rain, who am I to question their will? Besides if it ain't rainin' we ain't trainin'.” Glitch shrugged and continued her singing.

“Oh We'll be alright if we make it past the stratosphere

we'll be alright if we make it past the stratosphere

and we'll all fly on all night!”

There was no way to get completely dry and with the droids and mercenaries attacks ongoing all the teams could do was focus on getting the civilians out. The cold, the damp, the fear, it wore on all of you. In the afternoon that day a group of the Hutts' hired muscle sent a speeder careening into one of the barrier walls near the boarding check point. Before Deek could stop them, a few of the young Responders went over the wall to move people through, only for two of them to be killed by the speeder borne IED.

Arriving from the Command Post you saw the bodies gently carried on the stretchers and loaded onto the transport. Glitch was part of the recovery crew, kneeling over each of the departed in prayer. While the pink haired girl may have been the most unconventional of beings, she believed in her gods with a ferocity not often seen. She came over to give the sit rep, wanting to give the others time. As she finished Glitch glanced at you, seeing a kindred mourning. “It'll be ok Boss. My grandfather will guide them to the halls of victory, the Gods will welcome them home.”

Nodding at her words you continued to survey the scene. Deek was besides himself, JC was consoling him by the little bird. There was nothing you knew to ease his ache, so instead you sat and mourned together. You called the family's yourself that night, it was your duty as the commander for the mission. For what little time was left before the next terrible dawn you tried again to find a reason for their deaths, some meaning to their loss.

The Fourth day:

Anakin was trying to do the morning checks before the first group of transports arrived at dawn. He was ensuring the medications were running, reassuring the frightened that they would be safe soon. One of the injured slated for the first run was Leena, she still had shrapnel embedded in her shoulder from the day before. They hadn't been friends in class, but none the less Anakin felt a deep pit in his stomach wishing he could do more for her.

“Hey Leena, how you feeling? Ready to get off this rock?”

“Anakin,” There were tears streaking her blue Pantoran face, “I didn't think it would be like this.”

“Hey, don't cry. You got those people away from the crash, you saved them. You did so good.” Anakin held her hand, trying his best to comfort her. “The crew will get you to the med bay and have you fixed in no time. Then you can get me caught up on that Holo series you always tell the other girls about.”

“You heard us talking?” Seeing him nod Leena sniffled a little. “Yeah we can even watch a bit later, got the last two episodes on my data pad.”

Anakin smiled, pleased that he could divert her mind from the situation, even if only for a moment. “I'll get some of Master y/n's snacks for you, deal?”

“Deal.” Her face fell again as she looked at the others in the staging area. “Anakin why did they have to die? Why not me?”

“I don't know.” It was a whisper of a reply, Anakin had never felt so uncertain in his life. Leena's eyes were pleading with him for answers that he just didn't have, may never have. “What I do know that you're meant for something great and I'm really glad you made it.”

“Hey Kid, I'll take over. Boss wants to talk to you.” JC took Anakin's spot by Leena, giving a nod. Anakin wiped his eyes once out of sight, thanking the Force for the reprieve.

They had to be karking kidding...Command had lost it's minds! You had received the transmission and double checked it, but still you refused to believe it. Per the Senatorial oversight of this rescue after tomorrow before mid day (not the evening), there would be no further transports or support; you were to completely pull out. Obi Wan had tried to calm you with little success. You'd raged, cursed a blue streak, sent a chair flying across the room you were so frustrated. In the end there was nothing you could do to change the order, all you could do was get the last of these people off world.

The crews were already taking risks overloading the crafts to the gills and flying evasively to avoid rockets and small arms fire. Even with the hot loads and quick drops from all 4 craft this was going to be cutting it close.

“How do they expect us to get everyone out?”

“Truthfully I don't think that they do. We may also have to face that harsh fact,” Obi Wan was looking at you from across the holo table. “You're doing all that is possible, no one can ask for more.”

“No, that's unacceptable, I gave my word to these people they would be safe soon. We are not leaving anyone behind!” You slammed your hand on the table. “We have a mission and we WILL accomplish it. Just have to get a little creative...”

“Master you wanted to see me?”

Glitch popped in the same time as your Padawan. “Boss Lady, Deek said you wanted me?”

Obi Wan turned to them both, “Ah, just the creative minds we require.”

“Said the spider...” Glitch raised an eyebrow at Obi Wan.

“Oh wait till you fully see the web little fly.” Obi Wan rather enjoyed the sharp mind and conversations that the young woman kept up. It was refreshing at times, especially under present stress. He well knew the sharper edge of her tongue though having caught her ire earlier during unloading when supplies had been damaged.

You shook your head at the whole KUBAR situation that the crew found itself in, “RRC has given the order that before midday tomorrow we are to pull out. We need to find a better way to protect the transports and buy more time.”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance?” A deep voice came from the back of the room. Mace stepped up to the table.

“Master Windu.” Obi Wan bowed greeting the older Jedi, well and truly happy to see him. “Welcome to our little soiree.”

Mace smirked, even in the worst circumstances Kenobi's humor never failed. “Saw that the guests have been making a mess of things.”

You walked around the table and crushed him in a quick hug, “Thank you for coming Master.”

“What is the situation?” Mace saw the deep circles under your eyes. All of the RRC group was dirty, damp and disheveled. When the bird had landed his spot on the drop ship was quickly taken by the wounded. Fear was rife within the ranks here.

Pulling up the map you pointed to the enemy encampment, specifically where they were entrenched firing rockets at your craft. You'd be damned if those kriffing bastards took anymore of your crew, so it was time to take the fight to them, loath as you were to make that call. “We have no choice, it has to be done or we're all fragged.”

“I believe the best course of action would be for Master Windu, Anakin, and I to take out these positions while the rest of the group holds security here.” Obi Wan stroked his beard contemplatively.

“I don't think so my guy,” Glitch stepped up to the table and zoomed the view back to the entire compound. “Look at the topography, how we have two high flanking hills. Even if we haven't seen movement, you can bet those Karkholes are just waiting for us to change flight pattern and put the fish in a barrel. They know we know where they are, this too obvious. I say me and Speedster take care of this. The evac crew need you and Master Windy here.”

Mace chuffed at the young person's tone, “An interesting perspective young one.”

Obi Wan sighed, the girl could be amusing, but had little regard for authority. “Glitch I appreciate what you have brought to the table. However I believe it would be best if this was left to someone...”

“What, you think that just cause I'm young I won't have the heart?” Friendly expression becoming stony.

You saw Obi Wan take a deep breath, trying to gather his composure if not reign in his temper. “It's not a question of heart, lives are on the line.”

“No shit Sir. I put two of our students in body bags yesterday.”

“Glitch calm down a minute, ok.” You snapped her attention back to your direction. “Going out and getting yourself killed won't bring them back. If you still want to go out there then fine, tell me your plan.”

“There's still fuel and some stuff in the ground keepers shed at the LZ. I say we give these Sleamos a taste of home cookin'.” Pink hair hid the expression in her eyes, but Glitch's tone was deathly.

“You can't be serious, you'll blow yourself to oblivion.” Obi Wan was stumped that you might even entertain allowing such a course of action. “Please say you're not going to allow this?”

“She has a background and training in special weapons and tactics, plus HAZMAT. She knows what to do”

“She could die.”

“All of us might if we don't act soon Obi.” Your eyes pleaded with him to understand.

Glitch had caught her second wind, “Look I get you've been at this longer, but those were my students and friends..”

“No.” Obi Wan would not allow this while he thought there were other viable options. “You will not go about mixing dangerous chemicals in the middle...”

“But Master Obi Wan we still have 1500 beings to evacuate and we're running out of time. This can work, we can do this for you.” Anakin tried to break in.

“Padawan Skywalker it is out of the question...”

“Why? Last I checked Boss Lady was in charge.”

“Enough!” The last of your patience was gone, the edge of your voice clearly reflecting that. You were in Command, so it was time to command. “Glitch has a point, I'm sorry Obi Wan. If I though any other way would accomplish the task I would nix this idea in a heartbeat, but I can't. We're running out of time... these people are running out of time. We need the stronger leaders here.”

Anakin had waited for another opportunity to speak, “You taught us well and we will get this done, just say the word.”

Obi Boy and Glitch were still glaring at each other, if not for the scrutiny of others you would have laughed at the abject ridiculousness of the situation. Desperate times though call for desperate measures. “Be as safe as you can and use the protective gear we have. Both of you get back here in one piece. No stupid shit and no heroics, just do the job and get back.”

Looking again at Obi Wan, and acutely aware of Master Windu's presence, you tried to apologize gracefully while still holding the authoritative edge of before. “Obi Wan I'm sorry... I shouldn't have yelled... Commanders shouldn't lose their tempers.”

He nodded, acknowledging but still not wanting to accept that the situation had become so desperate. Heaving a great sigh he came over to stand beside you, “I know Y/n, forgive my insubordination. I should not question your orders in front of the others.”

“I'll let it slide this time Kenobi, but if ya do it again you'll be scrubbin' stretchers till doomsday.” Snorting you gave his shoulder a pat. “We'll make a RIC outta you yet.”

“I suppose I should go check the LZ for any more surprise packages from our friends.” Obi Wan headed out then, leaving only yourself and Master Windu.

“Do you think I'm crazy too Master?”

Mace chuckled in his throat, “Yes, but I've known that for a while.”

“I'm not leaving anyone behind Master. If I have to strap beings to the wings, I won't leave them behind.”

“I know you won't Y/n. I have brought something to help get more bodies up to the Haulers overhead.” He was amused again to find your brows raised at his use of lingo. “You don't think that Melri and I went on all those missions not to learn a thing or two?”

“Some days I forget.” Shaking your head you finally took a sip of the Kaf that had been sitting on the table. It was cold and bitter, a reflection of what you tried not to feel.

@meshlasolus @nurseytypechick @a-rose-of-amber @stanny-uwu @just-dreaming-marvel @aquaamethyst96 @in-a-mellow-tone @songoficecreamandfireworks @acatalystrising @pickleprickle @obiknights @iambored24601 @purplepandora666 @misscamptl @ginger-swag-rapunzel @the-going-merry @iabrokengirl @foxperifoto @annasun13 @moostresskenobi @lovelyxlily

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan star wars #ofL&D

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tired-biscuit · 8 months

Note

hi bisky :D

remember this?

https://www.tumblr.com/tired-biscuit/730811087169142785/magicianmew-brosandprose-suzie-guru

to me, you are like a beautiful secluded/peaceful/“secret” garden, i can see golden sun rays softly landing on your pretty flowers and lovely green grass/trees/plants, making them glimmer with various lovely colours. when i close my eyes and breathe in, my lungs are filled with fresh air, the smell of oxygen/dewy grass, and the soft perfume of various lovely flowers.

when i open my eyes i see a swinging bench covered with nice lil tree vines that have tiny cute flowers growing out of them. i look around and see a big sun umbrella decorated with delicate lace patterns towering over cute looking comfortable seats surrounding a table on which there are many kinds of sweets/snacks, boardgames, and surrounded by the chatter and warm giggles/laughter of close friends and happy memories. the feeling of happiness, peace, fun, and bonding over shared love/insanity over fictional characters is freeing and abundant.

comforting each other when one is sad, lifting each other up in times of hardship, friendship and loyalty, making each other laugh and becoming even happier when we’re already happy, warmth, love, and affection.

you are such a lovely, sweet, and wonderful person. and i’m glad i’m living in the same timeline as you <33

also your writing, especially the smut, fucks hard /pos. keep doing what makes you happy boo <33 LMAO SORRY FOR THE SUDDEN SHIFT OF VIBES BUT I JUST HAD TO TELL YOU BHAJAHAH OKAY BYE MWAH LOVE YOUUU HAVE A GREAT DAY/NIGHT

i don’t think anyone has ever described me more beautifully than you just did. i’m thrilled that you think my personality is so warm that it compels others around me to grow and feel good about themselves and the world to surround them. it’s what i strive to be.

this is very special to me, thank you. or should i say hvala, which basically means thank you in my language. just as an extra thanks so that you know i mean it from the heart! :)

#biscuit mail #to keep #i love you

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twyz · 2 years

Note

Hey Roz! What's up! I saw that your inbox was open! And I wanted to cure that boredom of yours's and since we all love Gloria! Can we get some HCs around her personality and what she likes to do?

Hi fan!!! Thank you so much for the ask!!

Gloria headcanons!!!

Personality wise, Gloria is extremely sweet!

She's a bit of an ambivert, as she has the extroverted-ness from her mom and introverted-ness from her dad

Meaning!! She could talk and be social for days!! But after a while she needs a break and just gets really quiet

She's not mad!! Don't you worry, she's just recharging

Because she's a ray, she has quite the anger issues

She's far from explosive like Glenda or Chucky, but she lets as much shit slide as she possibly can before finding the person causing her anger and uh

I think you can assume what happens next

If it's one of her siblings pissing her off, she honestly just laughs it off

Her patience is amazing when it comes to her family!!

Another thing about her is that she's an incredible liar

And I mean INCREDIBLE

Chucky can't even figure out when she lies

Believe it when I say she uses this to her advantage, especially when she goes on sprees

She looks all confused whenever she's asked about it and just says she was out studying with friends

She also lies for the twins when they sneak out

And god damn it they are GREATFUL

Onto things she likes, she's a huge painter!!

Just like her dad!!

Her works are usually abstract but still extremely pretty

She takes inspo from random things, even Chucky's old apartment walls!

Well not entirely cuz uh

Naked man

But yk!!

It's creative!! And sometimes really,, really creepy

Like you could sit and stare at her paintings for hours and constantly find new lil details

If you want an example of what she paints like,, look up Si__ku's paintings, her paintings are absolutely gorgeous

She also really likes music that Mac Demarco makes!

She says it sounds green so she likes it!!

She's also highly into the occult/spirit stuffs

Much like her mama <3

She has candles and incense as well as a few crystals and shrines here and there

Then of course she has her lil evil eye necklace which is cool!!

She's also really into those anatomy books that are about animals? Like those ones you see as posters all the time

Also plants.

When I tell you girly likes plants I mean she absolutely loves plants!!

Like you walk into her room and you immediately smell the sweetest shit imaginable

It's incredible!!!

How she got that many plants without Tiffany or Chucky knowing, however, is uh

A lil suspicious but whatever

They're fine with it

Until it's spring and Chucky's allergies act up

Anyways, sorry for the super long post!! I'm super happy people are interested in Gloria!! It makes me smile every time someone mentions her! Hope you enjoyed this <3

#twyz #gloria ray #glen/da #glen carter ray #glenda patricia ray #chucky #charles lee ray #bride of chucky #tiffany valentine #childs play #chucky series #cult of chucky

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bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus · 1 year

Text

Baying Dogs

Yup. I've started a short CoD fic! I know absolutely nothing about how the army works (SAS, Black Ops... etc), so enjoy me doing incredible somersaults over my many gaps in knowledge- I'm clueless and I just want to write a murder mystery!

It's a whodunit but I make things worse... hint, hint: Dog Soldiers.

Place your bets on who you think it is in the notes! Whoever's right by the end of this gets a smiley face and a high five- maybe even a lil treat 🍬!

Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic violence, gore and swearing!

Word count: 4,323

Chapter One: Looking Like The Dog's Dinner

It had been a cold morning, flakes of snow drifting aimlessly in the air as Soap sat outside his tent, on top of his rucksack. The food packet was hot in his hands, freshly fished from the pot of boiling water at the centre of their tents.

Steam had emanated from everyone’s mouths with each passing breath, words manifesting in the form of wispy smoke, dissipating within mere seconds of appearing.

Today seemed to be looking good, the sun shining through the clouds, the snow beneath his feet reflecting its rays and brightening his view. Soap sighed contentedly and began eating his breakfast, knowing full well that once Ghost was up, he’d be demanding Soap get a shift on. The mission was simple: intercept and retrieve information. Everyone on the team was familiar with this, seeing as most black ops missions were built on sabotage and disruption. Furthermore, this ‘terrorist group’ the higher-ups had sent them after were very… underground than the usual cowboys that Task Force 141 hunted down and detained.

That makes them sound like a shitty band, Soap chuckled to himself.

That was what John ‘Soap’ MacTavish pretty much remembered of the incident, well, that and the absolute bloodbath of the following evening.

It had been carnage.

“RUN, JOHNNY! GET OUT OF HERE!”

It was practically a flurry of limbs, an ecstasy of fumbling, people tripping over one another. Someone was still yelling for help, arms raised and clawing for an ally as he was thrown to the ground and dragged, shrill cries piercing Soap’s ears.

“RUN, YOU IDIOT!”

“GHOST!”

Calling him by his nickname was useless. Soap’s yells fell on deaf ears.

“SIMON! SIMON, BEHIND-”

MacTavish was shoved out of the way by his lieutenant, cast onto the soil as he watched a shadow appear behind his superior, lined in a halo of moonlight. A hand raised, but luckily Ghost caught it, only to be spun and thrown onto the ground. Never had Soap seen a man his size be decked like he was a little kid.

“SIMON!”

He lost sight of him. The panic was really setting in. Breaths were ragged, eyes darting around. Visuals were blurring into one, the screams of many merging into a single voice. Soap scrambled backwards, before getting onto his feet.

This couldn’t be them.

This couldn’t be happening.

How?!

Any confidence Soap had in his competency had evaporated, the sight of Ghost’s downfall only amplifying its absence. He wanted to get involved, but orders were orders and he had been ordered to flee.

Gunshots rang out, only to be smothered by the cries of Task Force 141 as those who remained fought to not be pulled away into the depths of Ashdown Forest.

Soap had bolted off, his feet feeling like they had been set ablaze as he obeyed his lieutenant’s orders. However, soon, he felt a pain rip through his thigh, and he fell to the ground. Warmth thawed his numbing legs as the world soon grew dark. Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish had only the wet soil beneath him and the fading stars above to keep him company, as the shadow of his assailant vanished.

The smells of disinfectant burned his airways as his eyes opened to a world of blinding white. Some colours broke through, various shades of greys with hints of green, matching the colour scheme of his camo gear. Out of his periphery, he could see vague shapes shift around. He could just make out Price’s stupid hat bobbing up and down as the man doddered about, before stopping and turning. Then, Captain Price’s mutton chops came into view.

“Soap?”

His voice sounded echoey, like he was distant.

“Soap? Can you hear me?”

Then, another face came into view, one which MacTavish wasn’t familiar with: a gaunt woman, looking about the same age as his captain.

“Sergeant MacTavish?” She asked, “Are you alright?”

It was like the world had suddenly returned to Soap, his senses coming into focus and his body finally feeling like it was in the room.

He rose up, his back supported by the woman. Every part of him was sore, not as sore as he had expected, but it didn’t shy away from the fact his entire muscular system was screaming with pain and tightness. It was taking a lot out of him to sit upright.

“This is Major Weir.” Price gestured to the stranger, “She is part of the Shadow unit General Shepherd mentioned.”

Shadow unit?

Ah, the Shadow unit. As in Shadow Company.

It was all coming back to him.

This was the backup if the mission went tits up.

Now, the nature of this being a strike mission was not something which had caught Soap off guard, he was familiar with the chaos, honed chaos, and improvisation that usually came along with those jobs; what made him raise an eyebrow was the amount of precautionary measures Shepherd had taken. The higher-ups were usually prepared and constantly calculating potential counters to all possibilities, but those cards were usually kept close to their chests, ready to be used when it did go awry. With this mission, however, it was like Shepherd was anticipating for things to go south the moment he deployed the squad.

Especially as he had mentioned there being a second task force, a smaller one, keeping a close eye on them. The operatives were told that the back-ups would only reveal themselves if trouble did start and that communicating with them would be a ‘last resort’.

Soap had expected that his team would be competent enough to not need to get to know their secret allies.

Unfortunately, for the SAS sergeant, he had jinxed it.

“How are you feeling, Serg.?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a fucking bus.” MacTavish’s Scottish accent was as thick as ever, especially in his fatigue.

“Any particular areas of pain? How’s your leg holding up?”

She gestured to his thigh, which was bare, with a dressing put on top, reddened with his blood.

“We’ve been given limited supplies; my colleague and I have done the best we can.”

“How come?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. All I was told was to expect contact from Captain Price within three days of arriving here, and to be prepared to deal with any injuries that would come from you lot scuffling for the payload. With the reputation of your task force, I assume they expected you to come out with only a few scratches.”

“Except we haven’t got any payload and we haven’t got a few scratches.” Price sighed, “We were ambushed before we could even get to their base.”

Soap’s dark brows furrowed together.

“I coulda sworn Shepherd said that contacting the Shadow unit would be a last resort?”

Weir leaned back a bit, her face scrunching up a little in confusion.

“You were intending on not contacting us?”

Soap looked at Price for affirmation. The man stroked his moustache for a bit, thinking. Then, he turned to Weir.

“Soap’s right, we weren’t expecting to ever see you.”

“I don’t understand,” she shook her head, “we were brought here and told to wait for a call from ‘Captain Price’. But you’re saying that you calling us was just down to chance?”

Soap and Price exchanged glances.

Meanwhile, Ghost had come to around the same time as Price and Gaz, sobering up from the pain as soon as his eyes opened and he was confronted with the blinding lights of the barracks.

Another member of the backup team was in the middle of tending to his arm, not even realising he was watching her until she looked up. The poor woman had almost jumped out her skin but hid her surprise well. Then, she went through the usual procedure, introducing herself, asking him the usual questions of how he was feeling, if he understood what she was saying, what he knew had happened, was currently happening and what she had done to help alleviate his pain.

She had said her name was Captain Burman-Douglas, but that most people called her Dougs.

Probably a kid fresh out of med school.

“What should I address you as, sir?”

“Ghost.” Was the gruff reply.

“Okay! Do you-”

Soap grinned and saw an opportunity to open his gob to speak, much to Ghost’s dismay.

“Actually, he prefers to be-”

“That’ll do.”

He chuckled, and swore he saw Ghost’s eyes crease through the holes of his balaclava- perhaps suggesting the presence of a smile, but it could very well be a grimace too. Soap turned back to his captain and Major Weir.

Dougs watched the lieutenant roll his tired eyes, before returning his gorgon-like gaze to her.

“You were saying, Captain?”

“Right,” she cleared her throat, “Major Weir wants to know if anyone remembers anything from the ambush.”

Ghost looked past her to see a woman engaged in a conversation with Soap, though, in his drowsy state, he couldn’t quite focus his mind to eavesdrop.

Turning back to the medic, he just shrugged.

“My recount’s probably as useless as anyone else’s here.” Ghost surveyed a room of scratching heads and hesitation, “Can hardly remember much. Apart from figures.”

“Figures?” She asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed he’d been put in.

“Shadows.” Ghost thought aloud, hoping to dredge up something from last night, “I feel like there were many. Either way, we were surrounded.”

“They were big bastards.” Soap continued his account to Weir, who began taking notes, “I’m pretty sure two were about to get me, if it hadn't been for Ghost over there. But, as you can see, one lucky prick managed to get his bullet into my leg.”

“That’s not a bullet wound, Serg.”

Soap’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“That’s not a bullet wound.”

“Well, what is it?”

Weir set down her paper and pen, coming to Soap’s side.

“Judging from the shape, size and depth, I reckoned it was a stab wound and treated it as such.”

Captain Price looked at Soap with a face of utmost confusion.

“How did you not know you’d been stabbed, Soap?”

Meanwhile, Gaz was sitting at the edge of his bed. He figured he was luckiest out of all of them, seeing as he’d come out with some bruises and a few cuts, not like Soap, who was across from him, with a huge gash that, if Gaz’s ears served him right, was just shallow enough to miss a major artery. Task Force 141 had been ambushed but Gaz had been completely blindsided. He stared into the middle distance, the images of last night painting themselves on the blank walls.

Everyone around him was saying men had attacked, or figures of men at least, but Gaz had given Weir a different account.

“You know, it’s odd you two are saying men struck you because Sergeant Garrick over there said it was animals.”

Price looked over to Gaz, who now had his head in his hands, leg jigging up and down.

“Animals?”

“Aye.”

Soap lowered his voice.

“Gaz is saying animals hit us?”

Weir shifted uncomfortably, rising to her full height from her previous position squatting by the bedside.

“He was the first of you to come to, all of you completely crashed when your bodies hit the beds.” Weir gave a small laugh, shaking her head before continuing, “When I asked about what happened and what I should build my report to General Shepherd on, Garrick said that Task Force 141 had been struck by a pack of animals.”

Price sighed, running a hand over his moustache.

“I think Gaz is pretty shaken up.” He proposed, “I think we all are. None of us were expecting this.”

“If I’m honest,” Weir ran a hand through her hair, “I think this whole thing is a botched job. Clearly, something’s off because we were told one thing and you were told-”

“Shadow 5, do you copy?”

Weir’s radio, attached to her body armour, suddenly crackled with a familiar voice.

“This is Shadow 5, over.”

“This is- fuck!” The voice on the other side sucked the air through their teeth, “This is… Shadow 1. We’ve been…”

Shadow 1 on the other side seemed to fade in and out, words trailing off into brief silences.

“…God fucking dammit! Approaching base… Three K.I.A and two critical… including…”

A dull thud could be heard, followed by the incoherent alarm of a second voice.

“Shit.” Weir sighed, “I’ve got to deal with this.”

“Was that Phillip Graves?” Price asked.

“Yeah.” She muttered a string of obscenities under her breath, “Dougs! You’re with me! We’ve got another lot coming in!”

“What?!” Dougs looked up from finishing up Ghost’s dressing.

“I don’t fucking know! Just help me with them! Two medics are better than one.”

Price watched them begin to march away.

“There’s only two of you?!”

“Yep! Nobody moves a muscle.” Weir announced to the room as she stood at the doorway, “If I see any dressings coming undone, I’ll be absolutely devastated.”

With that, they left.

***

Graves was a howling mess. He was bleeding heavily, except all his writhing meant that Weir and Dougs couldn’t that blasted tourniquet around his arm. He had similar injuries to Soap, except they were much more severe, with the stabs now looking more like lacerations.

He had a large gash running the length of his forearm, this one Weir had dubbed the ‘troublemaker’, and several smaller cuts along his chest. Whoever had dealt them had sliced through the body armour, getting deep into his skin. Weir knew she didn’t have time to play detective, but it was odd.

These injuries did indeed look more animalistic than manmade, which meant that Gaz’s claims of a strange creatures jumping the task force could potentially hold water.

No, Major Weir shook her head, don’t make this more complicated. Just get him fixed up.

Commander Graves was almost uncharacteristically erratic, screaming in pain and grabbing onto them in any way he could, almost clawing at the two medics. Though his resistance was most certainly not to be trifled with, Weir’s determination, fuelled by her anger at how this had gone pear-shaped so quickly, gave her enough strength to pin him down and get to fixing that tourniquet. They should have got the damn thing on sooner but with him slipping and collapsing every two seconds on the way here, they really couldn’t find a good opportunity to stop and sort him out right then and there.

Dougs could see Weir’s ever-creasing brow growing more and more intense, she was afraid the woman would end up stuck in that facial expression forever. This was most certainly the most bizarre, poorly organised mission they had ever been on, and for Dougs, this was only her third mission. She clenched her teeth together, trying to find the alcohol wipes and steri-strips. She rifled through the bag, poking her nose into every crevice and well-hidden pocket she could find.

Eventually, she came across something that looked useful, and pulled out the last of Weir’s dressings.

It was difficult to know where to establish your limits in this situation, because on one hand, the medics wanted to ensure Graves’ safety but on the other hand, they needed to reserve kit for future injuries because God knows what Shepherd was going to do with them now.

Weir was hoping he’d just slag them off and then take them back to Northolt. This whole ordeal was cursed, and a gut feeling was telling Weir that things were only going to escalate.

While she knew returning empty-handed was sacrilege, especially with Shepherd’s lot being as desperate as they were to get their hands on Welsh separatist information, Major Weir just wanted them to call it a day.

Whether these guys had been jumped by the Bleidd-ddynion or not, it didn’t matter to her; what mattered was the fact that whoever had decided to pounce on 141 and the Shadow unit had made her life significantly harder.

It seemed in Grave’s growing fatigue, he’d died down, letting go of his grasp on Dougs’ clothes, drifting off.

“Right, whilst he’s down, slow that bleeding while I get those little nicks cleaned up.”

After about fifteen minutes of desperate cleaning, rapid stitching and determined glueing, Dougs wrapped the last of the bandaging onto that wounded forearm. She removed her gloves triumphantly, breathing a sigh of relief as she watched Weir take off a bloodstained glove and rub her temple.

She had almost forgotten about the audience behind her, which watched on, with curiosity and apprehension.

“Is he alright, Major?” Price asked.

“Hopefully, he will be, sir.” Weir wearily spoke, “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Was Graves even meant to be here?”

“At this point, I can’t keep up with who's meant to be here and who’s meant to be on their bloody summer hols to Majorca.”

He watched Weir kneel down before her bag to fish for her long-distance radio.

Then, she turned to Captain Price, “Do you want to fill Shepherd in with me?”

“Yeah.” Price nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Weir untangled the radio from the nest it had made for itself amidst the straps of her rucksack.

“Gold Eagle Actual, this is Shadow 5 and Bravo 6.”

Nothing.

“Gold Eagle Actual, this is Shadow 5 and Bravo 6.”

Once more, just the crackling of radio static.

“Gold Eagle Actual, this is Shadow 5 and Bravo 6.”

“Copy, Weir. Status?”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Both task forces have merged, four remaining members of 141 are currently at base. One remaining from the Shadow unit.”

“Understood. Has the payload been retrieved?”

Price leant in and Weir held the radio up to him.

“This is Bravo 6. Payload has not been retrieved.”

They heard Shepherd sigh.

“What happened?”

“We were ambushed, sir.”

“Ambushed?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shepherd clicked his tongue, pausing in thought.

“Shadow 5, what’s the status of the Shadow unit?"

“Shadow unit has been hit. Commander Graves is the sole survivor and is in semi-critical condition. He reported three K.I.A. and two critical, but the other died by the time we got to them.”

General Shepherd tapped his finger on his desk, stroking his chin with his other hand.

“Condition of Graves’ injuries?”

“Large laceration on his forearm, coupled by bruises all over his body and smaller cuts on his abdomen.”

“As for 141?”

“Similar injuries, sir: cuts and deep bruising. Medical attention has been given to the best of my ability with my available supplies.”

Shepherd shifted in his seat.

“All in stable condition?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Mission complete.”

Price felt his stomach drop.

“Gold Eagle Actual, what was that, sir?”

“Return to Northolt and report to me there. We want full detail of the encounters and any further discoveries. Whilst making your way to Northolt, do not engage with any Bleidd-ddynion. Understood?”

“Hang on, sir-”

“Is that understood, Bravo 6?”

Captain Price sighed, reluctantly.

“Yes, sir.”

Hardly anyone got a wink of sleep. Dougs and Weir both were busying themselves monitoring everyone’s conditions closely, whilst the others refused to close their eyes for fear of the images of the previous events returning to haunt them.

The only two people who had managed to crash into a deep slumber were Commander Graves, unsurprisingly, and Soap, who slept soundly atop his stiff mattress.

Ghost had never been a heavy sleeper, every time he found himself beginning to doze off, his body would jolt itself awake. However, this proved to be somewhat a blessing, as it let Dougs finish up his dressing and also ensured he wouldn’t ruin it by tossing and turning about.

As Dougs was rolling out a stretch of bandaging to wrap over Ghost’s tattooed arm, he noticed her beginning to drift away. Her eyes were heavy, on the cusp of slamming shut, as her arms dragged out a suitable length of fabric. She’d occasionally try to keep herself up by blinking her eyes rapidly, and then holding them wide open for a brief amount of time, only to eventually succumb to the symptoms of fatigue once more.

Poor Ghost’s arm was growing achy as he kept it held out, watching this tortoise take centuries to patch him up. Eventually, she reached the stage where she’d need the scissors to cut out the piece, but, as Ghost would find, that would take yet another millennium. Simon ‘Ghost ‘ Riley watched Dougs turn around for her kit, which was just out of reach.

Just get off your arse, Ghost found himself jigging his leg up and down, Walk to it!

This would be comical if it wasn’t happening to him, being certain that if Soap were awake, he’d be thoroughly enjoying watching his lieutenant have his patience tested like never before.

Soon, for Dougs, the world would fade to black as Ghost watched her fall face first onto the floor, scissors in hand.

“Dougs?” A voice, muffled, asked, “Dougs, get up!”

She mumbled something, batting away the arm trying to reach for her.

“Dougs!”

That wasn’t a question. She hesitated, considering how she should respond.

However, Dougs wouldn’t be given the privilege of time to think when two hands grabbed her and shook her awake.

“Dougs!”

“Graves?” She croaked, “What are you doing up? You should get back onto-”

“You need to follow me.”

“What?”

“Follow. Now.”

Dougs eyes adjusted to the morning sun and she found herself in a virtually empty barracks. All her patients had vacated. She was confused but above all concerned. They had all gotten up for a reason. Something wicked was afoot.

She followed Graves, out of the room and into the corridor, trying not to overtake him as he limped. They walked along the uneven flooring of this clearly too-old-to-function base. Eventually, they came to the makeshift storeroom Weir had designated.

And to Dougs expectation, Weir was there, next to her supplies.

But she was dead.

“Oh my God.” Dougs brought her hands to cover her mouth.

A chill ran through her and she looked around at her company.

“Did… Did you find her like this?”

Price nodded, solemnly.

“It was Gaz who actually spotted her first.”

Dougs’ brown eyes moved to meet Garrick.

“I didn’t see anyone, Captain. Just her.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“No, ma’am.”

Dougs knelt down before the body, peering at it.

Weir has been reduced to a mass of gore, gashes riddling her body. Her eyes were still open, lifeless but somehow still holding the horror of what she saw. Keeping her welling tears to herself, Dougs closed those eyes.

“We’ll… We’ll give you a moment.” Price placed a hand on her shoulder, “But I’ve got to report this to Shepherd.”

“Best you do that ASAP.” Dougs replied, her voice monotone.

“Should we take a sweep of the base?” Soap asked.

“Good idea.” Price nodded and he looked around the small crowd for roles to assign.

“Ghost, Soap, Gaz, I need you to look out for any hostiles. Shoot on sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Grab your shit from your beds and go.”

Then, he turned to Graves.

“I’ll report to Shepherd too.”

“Say what you can, but I think you’re better off resting, Commander.”

“Yeah,” Graves chuckled wryly, rolling his shoulder, “you might be right.”

Price let the man rest some of his weight on him and they hobbled out the room.

That left Dougs.

She was still processing all of it.

This was supposed to be the safe area, well away from the kerfuffle.

And yet, the enemy had clearly snuck in.

Or, and she hated she was even thinking about this, but that enemy could possibly be someone among them who had decided to switch allegiances.

No one could sneak up on a trained SAS officer like that, not unless they had let their guard down.

It was one of them.

It had to be.

Trust was taken advantage of and broken here.

That’s when something white among the red caught Dougs’ eye, like a glinting jewel.

Quickly, she fished around for something to wrench it out with, gently moving Weir’s body aside, hoping not to disturb it too much to lose her prize. Putting on a pair of gloves and brandishing her tweezer, Dougs found herself conducting an autopsy. Squelches and other slimy sounds filled the silence of her lonesome, but that didn’t phase her, she was determined to get to that little curiosity buried in Weir’s flesh.

Eventually, she got a grip on it and gave the thing a little tug. It didn’t move. She tried to twist it. The thing resisted like it was gristle on the bone- except it clearly wasn’t. It felt solid, buried deep within the flesh.

Dougs hypothesised it was a dart of some kind.

A murder weapon!

However, when the mystery item finally gave way she wrenched it out, using a bit too much force which resulted in her staggering backwards and falling onto her bum, Dougs was surprised to find it didn’t really look like a weapon at all.

It was off-white, stained red, and was curved like a sabre.

A tooth.

“A bloody big tooth.” She thought aloud, bringing it closer to her face.

It had strings of sinew still hanging to it, but not enough to obscure the obvious.

Dougs scrambled for a plastic bag, going through the medical kit once more like a hungry raccoon ransacking a bin.

She found one and popped the tooth in.

Dougs stuffed the kit back into the rucksack and flung it onto her back as she got onto her feet. As she was about to leave, she looked back at the corpse.

It was stupid to take this upon herself, to play detective when this was a matter of life and death and not some Agatha Christie novel… but Dougs felt an obligation.

With a small sigh, she left, gripping onto that plastic bag so hard her knuckles were going white.

#cod mw2 fic #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ocs #phillip graves #self-indulgent fic time #this is so goofy #watch me have the audacity to write a fic about a piece of media i know very little about #call of duty #cod mw22

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