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ahungeringknife · 10 months

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365: February 23

Yeap went a bit insane about Lemp and Anceion for a week or so. Rotating in my brain like rotisserie chicken

Now that the storms had faded and the fury sated Anceion looked down at his heap of a brother blackened by the wrath of the sun, body broken as the scorched earth he had been cast onto. Anceion was not without his own injury but even the paltry wounds did little to mar his radiant golden skin. “I think that’s quite enough,” Anceion proclaimed.

“You’re such a useless brute,” Lemp groaned from the ground which never ceased to inflame Anceion’s fury. As mangled bones and body cracked and snapped back into place the black ash flaked and cracked off his silver skin. “Mother would be so disappointed,” his golden eye looked at Anceion through wild silver hair.

A lance of pure white hot magic ripped itself through the sky and slammed into Lemp’s body. The god didn’t even yell out as his skin was blistered and flayed from his body from the extreme heat. When Anceion dispelled the magic Lemp was unmoving and after a moment made a soft, pained, groan.

“Yield,” Anceion said.

Lemp said nothing and pushed himself up to his feet, the black ash cracking off his body like a shadow. He pushed back his long silver hair from his face. Anceion still resented how much more he looked like mother than Ancieon did. Like she’d done it on purpose. “And let you go it alone? No, I don’t think so,” Lemp said and the next Anceion knew was his brother had an arm over his shoulder. “I think you very much need to calm yourself,” and he patted Anceion’s chest and he felt his heart starting to stutter and strain. “Mother knew you’d make a mess of things if left to your own devices.”

Anceion shoved Lemp off him and when a radiant beam came down on Lemp again he just raised his arm to deflect it. “I don’t need the help. Never have,” Anceion spat.

“Ah yes, because you’ve done such a great job since she’s been gone,” Lemp said and waved his other hand to indicate the landscape around them. It was barren. Desolate. Just like the rest of the planet.

“Because you wouldn’t leave me to the work,” Anceion snarled.

“It is also my work,” Lemp said tiredly.

That infuriated Anceion and the radiant beam’s power increased forcing Lemp to his knees even as he held it back with his arm. Anceion was first born. It was his work. “I’m stronger than you, just stop,” Anceion said.

“Only in the light, brother. And you always pick your petty battles when you are radiant,” Lemp said but was straining under the weight of godly power bearing down on him. Where the magic was being deflected it was melting the land, turning it into lava and plasma spitting and hissing as it came to life. Then Lemp looked at him with golden eyes that Anceion always hated. “If you really want me to stop you’ll have to actually kill me. If you can even do that without fucking it up,” he said in quiet reservation.

The magic lance ceased. Magic couldn’t kill a god. Only a personal assault would do. Anceion formed a perfect golden rod with a bludgeoning club at the end. “Fine,” he said through clenched jaw.

Lemp went sailing the first time Anceion struck him across the head with the club, skidding on the cracked dirt before with a groan trying to get to his feet again. Anceion walked over to him and hit him again. And again. And again. Lemp curled into a ball, protecting his head. Anceion got on top of him and wrestled his hands away from his head.

But all the blood drained out of Anceion’s body when he heard Lemp scream for the very first time as he drove the end of the club down into his face. For all their fighting Lemp rarely fought back and other than grunts or groaned never showed any signs of pain. Of course not. He was a god. But hearing his brother scream made Anceion freeze as everything inside of him went cold. Above them one of the moons had exploded. Lemp writhed on the ground under him and Anceion realized what he’d really been about to do. He’d been so blinded by jealousy and anger about… what? That mother had given him a brother?

He cast aside the club and Lemp was clutching one side of his face still howling in agony. “What did I do?” Anceion asked himself softly looking down at Lemp as black blue blood poured from one side of Lemp’s face. It was something he couldn’t heal himself and that was a cold hand around Anceion’s heart. “Lemp,” and he pressed a golden hand to the side of his brother’s silver face. Lemp was never the healer, Anceion always was. He could feel that his left eye was completely ruptured and destroyed as was some of the socket with a huge crack in the back from Anceion smashing the end of the club through it.

Lemp’s noises of pain petered out as Anceion healed him until he was just breathing hard, his silver skin covered in sweat for the first time in exertion and trauma. “Anceion,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Anceion bemoaned.

Lemp removed his hand from his eye and while Anceion had healed everything the eye was still gone and hung uselessly out of its socket. “My eye is gone,” he said, other golden eye wide in fear. “My eye is gone,” he said again and it sank right into Anceion’s heart.

This was his fault. Now that his brother was so permanently wounded he realized he hadn’t really wanted Lemp dead. He just wanted to be trusted with the work without Lemp over his shoulder at every moment. But wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? Lemp said the work was also his and Anceion knew it to be true. “It’s alright, brother,” Anceion said gently.

Lemp looked up at the sky and pointed. “One of my moons,” he said and Anceion finally looked up at the exploded moon. It was already starting to drift around the world in pieces. “Anceion my eye- my moon,” but he didn’t even sound like he blamed Anceion. He just sounded stunned. “How am I going to keep watch in the dark without both my eyes?” he asked softly. “Mother said I needed to be the watcher at night,” and he sounded heart broken he’d failed their mother. Anceion felt that as his own failure. He’d done this.

“It’s alright, brother,” Anceion said already knowing what there was to be done.

Lemp looked at him. “Are you done trying to kill me, Anceion?”

“Yes,” Anceion said with a heavy voice and leaned over him, hugging him. “I’m so sorry.” Lemp hugged him back. “I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.”

“I think you’ve done enough,” Lemp said and it was a blistered fist around his heart. “Thankfully you’re such a fuck up, couldn’t even kill me properly,” he coughed out and Anceion couldn’t even find the rage in him. Lemp was right. And thank mother he hadn’t actually killed Lemp.

“No. I will fix it,” Anceion said and sat up looking down at his brother’s destroyed eye. He placed his palm on the destroyed socket but not to mend it. There was no mending it. Instead he used magic to cleanse and prepare it. Lemp just winced with his other eye in discomfort.

“Anceion you don’t have to. I could do it,” Lemp said.

“Shut up,” Anceion snapped. “For once in your miserable life listen to me.”

Lemp sighed and shrugged. “Whatever you say, brother.” Once the socket was prepared Anceion didn’t hesitate and tore out his own left eye.

Lemp grabbed his arm. “What are you doing, fool?” he demanded.

“Shut up,” Anceion growled as black blue blood spilled down his face and for a moment they wore the same scar. Anceion pushed Lemp’s hand away and fit his own silver eye into Lemp’s socket. Above them the light of the suns felt a bit less intense and Anceion felt it strongly. The light was less than it had been a moment ago.

Lemp blinked his eyes up at Anceion, one gold their mother had given him, and one silver Anceion had. Anceion knew it was a perfect fit, a perfect transplant because whatever Lemp wanted to say Anceion did nothing in half measures. “Brother— you didn’t have to do that,” Lemp said softly.

“No. I did,” Anceion said and finally picked himself up off Lemp. When he looked up at the sky there was still only one moon and the other was starting to stretch across the sky as a ring. It would be some time before it was a proper ring though. And the two suns were different too. Gone were the two white blue suns that had matched Anceion’s eyes. Now only one remained and the other burned cold but still bright enough to see from this world as a sort of strange brown-purple color against the bright sky. This was the cost of his mistakes and his anger.

With a sigh Anceion put his hand over his left eye and cleaned it up but there was no remaking a god’s eye unless mother came back. And she wouldn’t be back. She wouldn’t come back. He let golden skin grow over the hole in his face before walking off.

“Anceion, where are you going?” Lemp called after him.

“To do the work,” Anceion called back, like he should have this entire time and not bickering over who deserved to do it with his brother.

He heard Lemp scramble to his feet. “Well wait for me,” he said and caught up with Anceion quickly. “We’ll do it together, just like mother wanted us to,” he said and smiled.

“I suppose,” Anceion allowed and Lemp put his arm over his shoulder as they walked off.

#365 #writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original fantasy

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years

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Birthday in Bed (S.R.)

Summary: It’s Reader’s birthday, and Spencer is her present. Request: spencer reid and i making love on my birthday? Couple: Spencer Reid/AFAB!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Established relationship, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

It was the start of a new year for you. The sun had returned to its point in rotation from when you were born. It rises and peeks through sheer curtains. It kisses your cheeks and tickles your skin to remind you that you had survived another year.

And from his position behind you, Spencer was equally insistent that you celebrate the miracle that is your existence.

You wake before him, but he has never needed to be awake to worship you. His arms are already around you, shielding you from the world and offering his own invigorating warmth.

He begins to stir awake in a couple different ways. His hands become restless, exploring the smooth skin of your lower stomach. His head bows down to lay a kiss on your shoulder with now parted lips. Most notably, however, is the steadily growing pressure of his erection pressed against the soft swell of your hips.

“Happy birthday, love,” he mutters as the first words of your new year.

You crane your neck back and offer puckered lips. When he kisses you, you don’t try to turn around entirely, and he doesn’t want you too, either. You can tell because his fingertips are pressing hard enough to blanch the skin stretched over your upper thigh.

When he moves, it is not to turn you over. It’s to spread your legs apart.

“I can’t wait to spoil you all day,” he said with a voice still rough from rest, “Starting right now.”

Those are the words uttered when his hand on your stomach dips down between your thighs. He has to pull you closer, and in doing so you feel his lust in greater detail. You feel how his cock twitches against you at the same time he draws a finger through already slick folds.

Your body tightens, then relaxes. It recognizes his touch and feels no fear. With his guidance, you lift your leg and rest it over his while his fingers continue to work to release any remaining tension in tight muscles.

As your breath quickens, so does his pace. You can feel his heart beating quickly against your back, but you want to feel more of him. You tilt your hips farther until you feel the groan rumble through his chest.

You reach back, and although you miss the burning heat of his body against yours, you are happy to feel the extent of his desire in your hand. You delight in how quickly he crumbles at your touch — how he turns to that same lovesick young boy he was when you first met.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear.

“I love you, more,” you answer without hesitation.

“Impossible,” he chuckles.

Spencer urges you to release him without the slightest hesitation. But he immediately misses your touch, so he wastes no time entering you. It is swift, but comfortable. There is no resistance, no pain. Just the pleasure of being familiar enough to share one’s body with another.

That is the same way it feels when he takes your hand and presses it hard against your own chest. He doesn’t want you to go too far. You try not to stray, try to keep that scorching friction of skin just starting to break a sweat.

But when he enters you again, there is enough force to cause ripples in your thighs. Your body folds forward, both hands now clutching his like a lifeline. Moans start to pour from your mouth, and he uses that sound as the most effective motivation.

“That’s it, love,” he says between his own sounds of pleasure. Over the lewd sounds of pleasure between your legs, he continues, “You deserve to feel so good.”

It isn’t just the words or the steady thrusts that take your breath away, though. It is also the way that he leans forward, too. He chases after you so he can lay heavy kisses over your shoulders and up your neck. His hand that is not bruising your hip misses you, so it tangles in your hair. It tilts your face up and away from anything that might muffle your voice.

He wants to hear it when you cry, “Spencer.”

He wants to hear the way your breath hitches when his hand finally falls from hip to its previous point between your legs. He groans at the wetness he finds. He revels in the way he can feel himself disappear inside of you, and you know that neither of you will last much longer.

But he stops himself. He drives into you until he is at the deepest point he can, and then he switches his attention to the small bundle of nerves at your crest. He takes his time toying with the swollen pearl. He distracts you from the overwhelming sensation with kisses that became progressively sloppier. They got better and better until they burst blood vessels that you would worry about later.

You don’t care about anything beyond that bed. Nothing exists except the two of you, tangled together in a mess of limbs. It all grows tighter, your bodies coming impossibly closer until he utters a simple command that you feel compelled to follow.

“Come for me.”

And if the sound of sinful words on his tongue wasn’t enough, his hips began moving again, too. He is relentless in his worship. There is no part of you left feeling untouched or unloved. You are smothered by love and praise until there is nowhere else for the love to go. It bursts from your chest in the form of wanton moans and desperate attempts at his name.

Then, he follows behind, filling every crevice between your legs with a warmth and belonging. You both lay there, exhausted but filled with the purest euphoria.

The sun feels warmer as it tickles your skin and reminds you that this was beginning of the new year. You can’t imagine a better way to spend it than with him.

“Happy birthday, love.”

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid blurb #imaginingafterdark

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stratiotis-nth · 3 years

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The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so…rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

#this was a lot longer than i thought it would be #but i’m a sucker for cas with a halo and wings #dean would be so floored to see cas like that #supernatural #cas #castiel #destiel #spn #casdean #dean is bi #dean winchester #deancas #love confessions #destiel confession #destiel fandom #destiel fanfic

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winchesterxxi · 3 years

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Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

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slashxrose · 3 years

Text

•Slash Imagine ~

Name: cannot resist you.

Posted on: Wattpad (user: Slashxrose)

Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talking, gagging.

Narration: first person.

Summary: you couldn't wait till Slash stops working, everything you wanted was him between your legs so you try to caught his attention until he couldn't resist you.

Narrator:

The click of her heels perks her husband's ears up with instinctive interest, but nothing else as he focuses on the task at hand. It's now late at night and the need for him to be in bed next to her is unyielding.

I saunter over to Slash for the third time tonight, my hand skimming the edge of the mahogany while observing his taut posture. I watch as his hands go to work, admiring the sinewy dance they make. The veins atop his hands scatter throughout, his tendons flexing as his wrist flicks while writing. Wear and tear decorate his hands beautifully, showing his proud age with scars and wrinkles. Long, masculine fingers grip the white and gold fountain pen I gifted him with such elegance, it almost makes me jealous of the pen. The gold adorning his fingers glistens under the only light source in the room, a stained-glass lamp on his desk.

Slash's eyes slyly shift over my form as I marvel at his hands, observing the lack of clothes I have on. My body is on full display under a sheer black babydoll set. White-hot arousal rises from his gut to his chest as he rakes over my bare breasts, honing in on the hard peaks of my nipples. Lower and lower, he inspects the translucency of my panties, he can see everything. He inhales irritably, wishing I wouldn't be right in front of him looking so appetizing when he has work to do.

"I'm busy," he says sternly, without looking at me.

My husband knows where this is going and in the back of his mind, he doesn't care. Ignoring his statement, I maneuver into his lap so that I'm facing him. He sighs as he has no choice but to look at me now. Nostrils flaring, eyebrows scrunching, he scowls me with another elongated sigh.

I situate my center over his crotch and his heart rate speeds up. Slash quickly pushes my torso against his own, almost as if he's trying to hide my face from his view. My head rests against his shoulder, unable to see his face as the hand at my upper back tells me to stay put with a strong force. Wrapping my arms around him, I hug him tightly while my hips start to slowly rotate over him. Immediately, my breathing is heavy against his ear, the blissful friction sliding across my clit, is amazing even over the thick material of his pants.

Slash gulps and fixates on a sentence he can't seem to read, too engrossed as he can feel how wet I am with the glide against his clothed cock. Gasps turn into low moans, my lower half rubbing him faster as he hardens underneath my barely-there panties. My slick splits my folds, causing the thick of him to nestle between my inner labia.

"But I want you." I say in a whisper.

His broad chest heaves, his breathing becoming heavy. My breasts squish against him, every inhale and exhale are felt with immense detail, and he can't help but be absorbed in it. Slash's brown eyes snap up to the chiming clock above the door ahead, signaling midnight has arrived. Stress plagues him all the while I'm taking it away. Time continues to slip his grasp, as does the pen in his hand. Clearing his throat, he tries to carry on with his efforts.

But I lean back and hastily unzip his pants. My meek hands reach beneath his boxers, feeling his hotness before pulling him out. Hot and hard, his thick cock stands with a curve in my hand. Resting at a high position, I hold him still while nudging away my panties. Slash rolls his full lips between his teeth with anticipation of what's to come, desire riddling his entire body. Rolling my hips upwards, my clit skims the ridge lining the underside of his length before I glide back down with the innermost wetness of my pussy.

"Oh, my damn god." I moan, clutching onto one of his shoulders tight to maintain stability.

Now breathing out of his mouth, he lets out a whisper of a groan as I paint his cock with my essence. My hand begins to massage his swollen tip, spreading the leaking precum. Shutting his eyes, he savors the sublime attention of my slippery fingers and wet pussy.

With a higher ascend, I suddenly spear myself on his shaft with a penetrating whine. Gravity pulls me toward his base with a sting to my stretching walls. The wrinkle between his brows deepens with a clench of his jaw, his eyes rolling back as my sweet pussy consumes him. Raising my hips to lessen the pain, I shallowly ride him until my wetness coats him enough to slam all the way down. Slash grunts and nearly abandons his pen but doesn't as he knows it'll be the end of this facade he's trying to maintain.

I work him up into a blazing abyss while he tries to use his resolve to persevere. The tip of his cock nearly hits my cervix with this position, filling me to the brim. The steady bounce I'm maintaining have me moaning in his ear, gradually unraveling by the second. His cologne invades my senses while burying my face in his neck, inhaling the thrilling scent with each intake of air. Panting, I cling to him with my tired legs, trying to wrap around him as I rock against him.

"Fuck babe, I- shit-" He moans out loud.

Each time I rise, my insides feel an emptiness I can't bear until the mighty stretch of sinking down gives the divine satisfaction of being full of him again.

"You like being a sluty girl for me, huh." He keeps moaning as he grabs my ass. "Feel how your cunt begs for my cock."

On his end, the heavenly scorch of the inferno that is my hot, wet, velveteen walls squeezing him feeds his carnal desire to penetrate me with control. Slowly, his hips start to buck upward, chasing the feeling of my saturated plushness. My high-pitched mewls indicate me impending release, the pulsating beat inside me becoming more frequent with each plunge.

"S- Slash, daddy...." I pule, the look on my face is grave as I pull back to look at him.

Seeing such desperation in my face makes him drop his pen without a single thought. Slash grabs my hips and lifts me to roughly slam up into my drenched cunt. Hissing, he eagerly leans back and devours the small contortions in my face. The pleasure between both of us increases tenfold as he controls the pace with my body and the power of his hips. Sure, I could ride him the whole night, but with Saul Hudson, it's an entirely different type of gratification only he can deliver. Slash drives into me like rapid-fire, ceaselessly slamming through my fluttering walls.

"What a desperate little cunt you have here," he says through clenched teeth, leching at my straining hole with a cocky tilt of his head. "Sucking me in like you can't live without my cock being buried inside you," he says with such poise it makes me lose it.

My jaw gapes open, letting out waves of wails that coax a vicious, almost painful speed of his hips. As my body recoils and quivers, my insides squeeze him.

"You're really cumming over that?" He roughly growls, his own orgasm hitting him. "Is my wife that much of a whore?" He snarls, his rough mouth intensifying my releases.

The tightness around him brings his release head-on and he sharply grunts before exhaling out a drawn-out groan. A hot rush surges through his shaft, resulting in thick strings glazing my insides. With impossible brute force, his hands clench around my hips hard enough to leave marks while pounding his spurting cock upward. Rolling waves of hot bliss wash over me as my cling to his solid body, the air being knocked out of me from his forceful thighs banging against me.

"Bab-e" the moans do not stop coming out of my mouth.

With a slight sneer to his mouth, Slash captures my lips in a fervid kiss, one that cuts my voice short. Tongues openly swirl around one another, moans and groans mixing in a harmonic cacophony.

"Holy shit, I'm gonna cum.... shit." he moans against my lips.

Sighing heavily through his nose, leftover jitters jolt his body with the last remnants of his orgasm hitting him. My walls gradually relax around him, hugging him while thick fluid flows from the junction between our bodies. Clutching onto him, I lift off him and feel as empty as ever without him. Standing on wobbly legs, I struggle to stand on the stilts of my heels. Warm semen seeps down my inner thigh, prompting me to look down at it. Slash catches the liquid with a finger, swiping it up as more drips down. Just the feeling of the pads of his fingers near my center nearly makes me topple over.

"Clean this mess," he orders, offering me his glossy fingers.

I gaze at him while opening my mouth, his fingers gliding to the back of my tongue. My lips close around his digits as his finger pulls out. Smiling, I lean over to kiss him but he stops me with a finger on my lips and a raised eyebrow.

"Did I not say clean this mess?" He repeats pitilessly.

I look down at his still hard, glistening cock as semen pools around his balls and trickle down his pants. Immediately, I sink down to my knees between his legs, licking my lips as I inspect the immense girth of him. Gingerly grabbing his base, my eyes snap up to his before licking collecting the hone he so graciously is giving to me with a fat stripe up his tall length. Slash's nostrils flare in arousal, watching me lick up his seed like a glazed candy. Even though it's bitter, it's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted as I see that he's enjoying himself.

The drip of his seed between my thighs distracts me every so often as it coats my skin in a glassy luster. My lovely tongue peeks from my lips tantalizingly as it slithers around the fat veins of his cock, smoothing over them deliciously. Reaching the tip, I lick the small slit at the top, collecting even more of the tasty liquid. While keeping his semen in the back of my mouth, I continue slurping up the mess all the way down to the bottom.

My husband lets out a hiss as my tongue cups one of his balls, softly sucking it into my mouth. A deep pinch between his brows appears and the muscles framing the back of his jaw flex as he pushes his hair back, revealing more of his handsome face. Almost breathless, he watches my mouth at his balls with an expression that spurs me on. With the acidic fluid now gone, I can't help but keep licking him until my lips reach the tip. I wrap my lips around the sensitive, swollen head and suck harder than he'd like, making his hips jerk up. He groans and snatches me by the hair, lifting me off him.

Leaning forward, he moves close to my face, tilting his head mockingly at me.

"I don't think you're in a position to toy with me when you are my toy babe," he muses, placing a finger over your closed mouth.

Slash grabs the frame of my jaw roughly, wedging his index and thumb between my teeth from the outside so my mouth opens. He smirks triumphantly seeing his release in my mouth.

"Swallow me," he orders.

I swallow the bittery goodness and stick my tongue out to show off my compliancy. Slash smiles, reclining against the chair and pulling my hair at the root. Jerking my face closer to his cock, he smashes my lips to his length before forcing my mouth over it. I whine as his cock drives through my parted lips, the fleshy hardness of it hitting the roof of my mouth. My brows scrunch while trying to not gag around him as he pushes me halfway down.

"I know you can take it all with that expert mouth of yours," he croons, holding my head down until he feels my throat open up for him. "That's it, my girl, my babygirl."

His thickness penetrates my throat and I concentrate on breathing properly without gagging. Bobbing my head atop his cock, his fingers tighten in my hair with each thrust, getting lost in the feel of my mouth and throat. Slash's eyebrows quirk up as my moans pitch higher, wondering why I'm enjoying this more than usual. Through the gap between my mouth and his cock, he can see that my pussy is still oozing his cum. With a smug grin, he moves his leather loafer below me, raising the tip of it to skim my drooling center. Gasping, I moan against his cock as he rubs my clit against his shoe.

"Nasty girl, getting turned on by her husband's shoe," he sneers, pushing me further down his cock until my nose is buried in his black pubes. "Does my cock taste good knowing my seed is spilling from you?" He growls, increasing the pace of my head.

I whine, his cock muffling my voice. Tears begin to break the barrier of my lashes and stream down thickly, making for a wonderful view of my struggling face. He rubs my pussy tauntingly slow, patting my entrance with a vile gush. Though he's teasing me, he's ultimately riling himself up further as he twinges in my throat.

"Since your little pussy can't keep my seed in, I think I need to refill it again, tesoro," he coos, pulling me off his cock with a nasty pop.

Strings fall down my chin, my lips glossy and my cheeks full of tears. I nod and he smiles warmly through the heat of his impending release.

"But you have to promise me that you won't bother me again like this if I do," he says.

"Okay, daddy." I reply.

Slash smiles, helping me up with attentive hands, and in the back of his mind, he knows full well I'm lying. Picking me up and placing me atop his desk, he hikes my right leg against his torso with my heel cresting his wide shoulder. Leering brown eyes roam my filthy thighs while curling a possessive arm around my thigh, dragging my bottom to the edge of the desk. My palms splay on top of the desk beside me as I sit up, wanting a good look at him while he plows me. The tips of his fingers slip a bit, prompting him to delve his fingers deep into the flesh of my inner thigh to keep a strong grip over me. Standing straight, the desk is a perfect height for him to align his cock up with my entrance without having to dip his body low. My other leg rests against the wood, bent with an inviting spread to my legs.

I stare up at him with wanting eyes and he can't help but fall deeper in love with me with that expression. He lays the curvature of his cock against my slit, making me moan before moving back his hips. With the head of his cock trailing lower to my hole, he slams into me with a roll of his eyes. His cock glides in with little to no resistance as the mixture of fluids in me make for a sensuous massage. I squeal, my hands nearly slipping from the powerful thrust. Placing his free hand on my other thigh, he grips it hard before pulling out and driving back in. My little whimpers turn into hiccup moans, tears quickly returning to my lashline as he hits me deep. Slash loves the fact that he can control the pleasure in me, experience with each thrust as if he has my emotions in the palm of his hand.

"This is what you wanted? Honey." he mumbled.

"Not enough, I need more daddy." I faced him

His features quickly hardened.

"You need more? Okay sweetheart, you're gonna have more so."

Gritting his teeth, he watches me spread around him as I did earlier, this time though, he's quicker than ever as he nears his release. Strands of his bangs fall back down to his forehead, leaving his hair perfectly messy with each undulating sway. Tip to base, he makes me feel every detail of him, sinking into me so deep he brushes the crest of my cervix.

Oh god.

The thick veins coiling around his cock beat in tandem with his heart, his cock head throbbing and leaking profusely with precum. Ducking his head low, he rests his forehead against mine, his nose rubbing the side of us as he fervently fucks me.

"Squeeze me like you always do babe," he growls, placing a thumb over my clit and rotating. My walls instantly tighten and he groans needily. "Just like that, you're perfect," he says hastily, giving me his all.

Striking my bottom with his hips with a loud clap, he pounds into me vehemently, relishing in the sweet squelch between my legs. Parted lips meet in an opened mouth kiss, one that is lazy as the two of us begin to swiftly unravel. The tips of my tongues twirl together hotly before he retracts his muscle earlier than expected, his breath labored as his hips move on their own.

"Gonna stuff you full with my seed," he mumbles through clenched teeth.

Slash slams against me with a terrifyingly crash, jolting my body within his tight grasp. The urge to fill me is strong and so he snaps into me ferociously, ejaculating inside of me once more. His cock pulses inside of me with a coaxing sensation, drowning me in a wash of bliss. His thumb relentlessly rubs my clit through his strenuous efforts, wanting me to have the utmost pleasure imaginable. Wrapping his arms around me, he desperately hugs me to his body as he can barely pull out of my rippling walls, eager to stay buried inside me. With each thrust, he hisses sharply, sensitive, and in awe of how I can just disarm him so easily just by coming into his study.

He swallows thickly before holding me and crashing back down in the chair as it creaks loudly.

"I don't think this chair is going to last if we keep this up," he chuckles gruffly, idly skimming my back with his fingertips.

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captainkurosolaire · 3 years

Text

A Father’s Instinct!

The emerging stark black and white halves returned with a shattering of Silv’a ice-fence with a flashiness, they were past their play-enclosure. When arriving they saw only the foul demon who was kicking back and forth Nihlius and Klethera with their helpless unconscious state, each painfully being decimated and cheaply used as something to get aggression off with sadistic intent. Grinding a foot over and slamming it over and over Klethera who was screeching in bloodied pain in such defensiveness, trickling of celestially sparks of life, called tears, were protruding from her oceanic blues. Captain and Shiro stood in dismay both trembling but a slow-languid stare, tilted head of the Noble, came to look at the pirate’s response… Blistering red heat emitted his sun-kissed complexion. Why... why was it so scorching hot, so hot, so painfully searing like being thrust in the Sun. Blood pumping and swelling out against the surface breaking every blood-vessel into vascular veins, muscles enlarging and expanding from tensing, bulging, nail’s breaking flesh into its own. Sweaty and unruly deep thick melting red waters flowed in contesting against the cool-shifting room’s temperature. Brow-twisting and twitching, eye’s dilating and spinning around faster than the rotating orbit of the world. This feeling… Uneven attainable unless you possessed someone of your own, those tears held glitter stars of hope, and they were shedding from anguish. Gut-wrenched his diaphragm uncaring to even breathe. Caution drowned away, rightful sanity was murdered. Zieton’s own heed, ‘The half-soul you have is now an empty pot, what you fill, is what you’ll receive, that goes for all seed’s in life.’ Disregarded, nothing mattered, who cared anymore, was transcribed over. He was careful. Never wanting to let a child of his own into his dangerous sailor escapades, the same went for all he valued and loved, wives.., To know him, is to die so it seemed the outcome, or be forced to be strong, he pushed away everything and castaway it for many sake’s…but... Klethera, weaseled herself into his life with unrelenting to track and succeed in finding her deadbeat and chose this on her own, not for him, but her. Shiro was staggering noticing and barely able to fathom what was consuming his rival. Captain drowned and died on this day. He blew through with a Father’s instinct, of sheer resolve, the power that’d DESTROY anything God or none, to rip the head off shoulders for those who’d make their children suffer. The same adrenaline that’d an exhibiting atypical regular parent, under desperation were documented in news the uncanny performance to seething of upset feats which punctured through impossibilities. Pupil’s swallowed away as his eye’s seethed and glowered red. He broke through a Ghost-Step and round kicked the devil off her and then instantaneously a series of two identical clones carrying his fury began erupting with the same rage, the room was being taken over from an uproar of animistic rage that brought even sorrow. A demon found himself becoming intensified and strong from this and was able to dodge the clone’s before grabbing both their legs on respective sides. Limit’s were insignificantly allowing Captain to push another close in quarter, ghost-step, nothing would allow him to get away, his teeth puncturing his own mouth, as he brought an indomitable punch that shattered through Silv’a’s entire sternum and broke through on the opposing side. Silv’a found himself in more agony than he could suffer screaming, ‘get off, get off, get off!’ getting his karma. Senses overloaded Captain was devoid of all reason, logic. Returning to his heritage of a lineage of savages. Harkening primal and primitiveness that conquered his mind. Backhead round kick’s of the clone’s unleashed before squeezing this fiend’s arm’s and tugging on them to yank them off with a ferocity. Trying to escape the clutches but that blasted fist straight through the sternum prevented him, his feet were caught and pinned as Captain’s boots and weight prevented him, that facial rage overflowing with hostility, Captain broke a torrent of headbutts and then wrapped his second palm around a wrangling throat and began tugging up, at the risk of tearing this demon sheerly apart from spine, like a furious lion who watched a cub being abducted. His aether… so volatile was biting at both their fleshes like stings of bees. Shiro reinforced his rival with a skin of diamond ice but had to channel it and maintain it. Captain was temporarily indestructible, unwavering, finding his nails growing and sharpening from the Amdapori’s cell that had a small remnant trace left, settling into puncturing that so called perfectly immortal body Silv’a sold himself too. Silv’a felt every bone of his rattle like tide’s were going to swallow him into an endless vortex. His own survival instinct, unleashed all the might of the medallion’s of fire and lightning he swallowed. Captain scowled and winced before erupting even more angry and explosively mad, “ANYONE WHO MAKES MY BABY GIRL CRY IS T’ DIE! I WILL RIP YOU LIMB FROM LIMB N’ EVERY EXISTING HELL, THERE IS NO REALM YOU’LL ESCAPE ME.” This was not a threat… It was a promise! No.. worse, it was being proven. Fear knew the demon of a Father who held the belly of a beast. So counter-opposite in their parental approaches and handling. Silv’a was fighting for his life and survival as his neck bones were heard snapping from their sockets. The clone’s kept back and forth punching his face into left and right cheek barrages of complete annihilation and barbarically. Flesh and skin was being removed in an unbridled flash flood of gore. The clone’s dissipated and were electrified out. Giving back his arms, Silv’a unrelenting back, squeezing back and punching fist’s of the voidal inferno into the Seeker. Even with reinforced diamond skin it still busted through with hellish need. The Warlock set a palm on Captain’s face to push him back and even gouged a thumb against his eye socket. This viscous black lion, wasn’t halting though, only terrifying ever shivering bone of the demoniacal entity. His soul and spirit were being feasted by a fearful aura. Shiro collapsed from being aethercially drained to maintain and sustain all those hits, “I’m sorry.” Face planting with exhaustion barely conscious. Captain showed no restraint as if he was accepting on dying here, wanting to claim the trophy of this demon’s head before. It was his resolve. Though suddenly in fortunate favor, for the demon, the pressure loosened as Captain slunk back and collapsed instantaneously with a lifelessness thud into the pavement. The Noble actually had a shot of mourning and disbelief. Did he just witness his first unspoken…secret friend… die. The Keeper didn’t have anything in his reservoir to repeat the same feat. He didn’t have the force of a brute with carnage. The opposite effect transpired throughout him though. Realization of something angelical, as if felt, he saw the glimpse of a bright sun-ray exorcise all the traces of evilness in him. He felt sheer remorse and emotion that could icebreak his coldness. Convinced and impulsed, ‘to save’ Solaire. At all, cost. His body denied him, making him crawl like a peasant but his arrogance was beside that fact. For once he wanted more than any other time, he wanted to save and protect a life truly. He never wished to do anything else but be an Aegis. Though always unsuccessful or felt, never achieved it. The terrible Silv’a still looked through his shallow hole that went completely through him. He kept puking up an endless entrails of organs. Starting to regenerate, heaving and having to use the maximum force of his medallions wasn’t designed. Furthermore, that shot also broke a Voidal Relic mirror that Silv’a kept clinging to prevent that type of thing from occurring, this beast even punctured through that, these infuriating insects had nullified his foresight, overextending only for that to fail too. Their troublesome union and teamwork was a fellow nightmare. Silv’a gassed and tried to recuperate with such dreadfulness and still a swelling of life-threatening that crept in his spine, immortality… Was this useless his plan for Project Immortal Age? “NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” How dare this mortal question his own self! Demon’s can't feel doubt�� He couldn’t either, he achieved a higher-level above all these scattered disarray insignificant whelps! (Previous) << (Voidal Relics) >> (Next)

#tw:violence #tw:gore #Lord Shiro Elune #Klethera Sunkiller #Silv'a #Pirate #Miqo'te #Immortal Age Saga #Tales of the Goldbrand #FFXIV #Power of a Father #Treasure Hunter #Dark Fantasy #creative writing

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whumprincess · 3 years

Text

Dark Timeline: Burnt Sugar

Word Count: 2361 words

CW: Lady/Female Whumpee, Catgirl Whumpee, Cruel Whumper, Fantasy Whump, Dehumanization, Healing, Branding, Slapping, Swearing, Corrupted Friend, Reference to previous torture (declawing)

The moment Sugar’s hands were freed from her shackles, Eri’s fingers were already firmly wrapped around her frail wrist.

“LET GO OF ME!” Her voice was shrill as she wildly tried to pull away from her captor, but it was to no avail. He was several feet taller than her, not to mention much stronger. There was a time when she could have bested him using her claws and magic, however even in his arrogance, the king knew this. All it took was for her to land one scratch on his pretty cheek during her capture for him to call for her declawing. After that an anti-magic collar was locked around her neck, effectively taking away her last form of defense. She felt weak, but she would be damned if she just let him do what he wanted!

Eri’s gaze remained fixed ahead of him as he simply tightened his grasp and jerked the tabaxi along behind him. Each step he took lead them closer to a table on the other side of the dungeon. When he was close enough, he threw her onto the floor with an annoyed huff. He knew better than to under-estimate her agility and gingerly began securing straps around her wrists. This girl didn’t know what was good for her. If she just behaved he wouldn’t be pushed to such extreme measures. Even now, knowing resisting him was futile she continued to defy him. He wished she would use common sense and obey, but part of him knew that was optimistic. After all, even when they travelled together as adventurers, she always did act like a dumb animal.

“You bring this on yourself.” He stated coldly before standing up straight.

She clumsily failed to catch herself on her mutilated hands as she was tossed against the concrete. The impact aggravated her countless other injuries causing her to let out a sharp hiss. She attempted to scramble to her feet, but by then she was already fastened in place, forcing her to maintain her position on her knees.

“Fuck you, Eri-!” She was cut off by a harsh backhand.

“It’s been months and you still haven’t learned to call me Your Majesty.”

“Because that’s stupid!” Another slap on the same cheek and she could already feel the tender beginnings of a bruise.

“You haven’t learned your place…” He slowly started to make his way towards a nearby fireplace.

Her eyes widened when she noticed he wasn’t reaching for the fire poker, his usual weapon of choice.

“I’ve been too lenient with you.” His red eyes burned with malice as he held up a brand. “I’ve let you think you’re human for too long…” He set the rod down on the floor, ensuring the tip was resting in the flames, before making his way back over to the half-feline. “You really were always more like a pet…” He gave her long, snow-white hair a slow, deliberate stroke before crouching down and flicking the bell hanging off her collar, “…right down to always wearing bells all the time.”

“SHUT UP!” Her fangs snapped at Eri’s fingers, but he pulled away just in time. The other side of her face pricked as she sustained yet another smack.

“Keep that up and I won’t let you speak at all.”

Sugar’s heart skipped a beat at the threat. For about the first month of her imprisonment she was forced to wear a gag to prevent her from spellcasting. As humiliating as her collar was, the day she received it was also the day she was permitted to speak freely again. Everything about this Eri was unfair! Back when they were in the same party, he might’ve been egotistical and pompous, but not cruel… never cruel!

“Come on Eri, this isn’t you!” She tried to appeal to her friend, but he was nowhere to be found as he turned his back to her.

“Of course it’s me!” He violently seized the prepared brand and stomped his way back to the pathetic girl. He held the scorching hot metal just above her right hand, delaying the agony. He couldn’t help but derive satisfaction from the way her entire body writhed to move away from him; the way she uselessly pulled back her wrists over and over again, serving nothing other than to make them raw and red against her restraints; the way her mismatched blue and grey eyes begged him for mercy without a hint of defiance. Yes, this was how it was meant to be, he was certain of it. He was superior to her in every way and if she was capable of this level of fear he could train her to never leave his side. “And this is you.”

A mangled screech escaped Sugar’s throat as her entire body began to convulse. The tears she had tried to hold back spilled onto her face, stinging her already sore cheeks. She was reduced to a wreck of incomprehensible sobs as she tried to withdraw her abused hand, only managing to burn a different area.

“Tsk, that won’t do.” Eri lifted the metal off her skin and leaned down to inspect the now imperfect feather design. “You’ve ruined it, what do you have to say for yourself?” He stared at her severely, but it was no use. She was too caught up in the pain to even hear him. “Inexcusable.” He exhaled before putting his hand on top of her burned one.

In an instant, there was a cool, soothing sensation washing over her singed skin. Her tears turned from ones of pain to those of relief as she opened her eyes to look at Eri. She gave him a small, hopeful smile; thankful that he returned to his senses.

“I said, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“H-Huh?”

“The brand, you ruined it.”

“I… W-what?” She looked down to her hand, noticing that the mark had vanished. “I-It’s…”

“Yes, I’ve removed it because you refused to stay still.”

“I- I don’t get it…”

Eri sighed before grabbing the brand again and bringing it back to the fireplace to reheat. “Of course you don’t, you stupid cat.” He tapped his boot impatiently, “You do realize it needs to be perfect, don’t you?”

She blinked in confusion before frantically shaking her head, “N-No! I-I don’t need it at all!”

“Of course you do!” he growled. “How else will you remember you’re my pet?”

“Eri, that’s crazy!”

Outraged by her continued insubordination, he hastily returned the reignited brand to her flesh. Her screams echoed throughout the chamber as he pressed the metal down firmer than before. Even amidst her struggling her hand was pinned to the table; he would not permit her to spoil his handiwork again. This time he was irritated with all her racket, she always had to make so much damn noise. There was no way she wasn’t over-reacting, of course she wanted to make him feel guilty for doing what’s necessary, when it should be her apologizing for making everything so difficult!

Recklessly he tossed aside the brand in order to appraise his results. He roughly grabbed her hand and turned it in all directions, “This one’s crooked!”

The explosion of heat that was reintroduced to her hand was worse than before as it was compounded with the crushing pressure of unrelenting iron. She choked on her own tears, unable to voice any of the pleading thoughts racing through her head. His careless fingers pulled her blistering skin in such a way she thought it might fall off. She could do nothing but howl for an unforgiving king and lost friend.

She knew better than to trust the comfort that soon followed this torment, but she tried to leverage her opportunity nonetheless. “P-please…” She whispered, not fully recovered yet, “N-no more…”

“It’s too late for that.” He sneered, already preparing to repeat the process. “I can’t trust you.”

“B-But you can!” She exclaimed, eager to try and convince him. “I-I want to help you! I want nothing more than-” She cut herself off… asking for her friend back would only make him angrier, but she knew he was in there somewhere! “Than for you to be okay!”

“I AM MORE THAN OKAY!” He bellowed, leaving the tool in the fire while he grabbed a fistful of her hair. Effortlessly, he wrenched her gaze upwards, “I am the King- your King! I have everything I have ever wanted! It’s you- you’re my problem!”

She couldn’t stop tears from forming as she stared at a face so contorted by rage, she could barely recognize it. “Then w-why…” She paused to find her voice. “Why do you keep me around?! It’s not worth it! Just let me go!”

“You’re right.” He unhanded her with a look of disgust before seizing the brand for a third time. He rotated it slowly in his grip. “You’re not worth it…”

Eri approached with a calculating precision that was somehow more terrifying than his unbridled ire. With each of his excruciatingly slow steps, she couldn’t help but try to pull her hands away. She hated the small whimpers that fell out of her mouth with each fraught attempt; the rough leather of her bonds only biting harder into her already aching wrists. By the time he was looming over her, she shut her eyes, forcing tears out as she anticipated pain. However, a deceptively gentle finger urged her chin upwards. Against, her better judgement, she listened to the persistent song of hope lulling her that she would see a familiar companion. She was filled with regret when the only thing glowing hotter than the metal in his hands was the wickedness in his eyes.

“…yet.” He took his time lowering the brand to the back of her hand, finding the way she squirmed both amusing and curious. As much as he enjoyed witnessing her show of fear, did he not make himself clear that the mark needed to be flawless? Something wasn’t getting through to her… That’s when he realized: if he were dealing with any intelligent person they would hold still, but that wasn’t the case with this poor creature. Abruptly changing his course of action, he held the metal up to her face, “Ruin this one and I’ll brand your cheek instead.”

The stern threat coupled with the overwhelming stench of iron made her nauseous and lightheaded. She reflexively pulled back to escape the heat wafting onto her already hot cheek and whined when it chased after her.

“Understand?”

His condescending question made her want nothing more than to mess up this stupid design, so he would be wasting his precious kingly time. Her spite must’ve been apparent though, because before she knew it, she could feel her skin start to burn from the proximity of the brand.

“Understand?”

Unable to contain her panic, she acknowledged him with a feverish, “M-mhm!” Eri was never one to back down on his word and this version of him wasn’t partial to providing mercy, as evident by her missing knuckles.

“Good.” He removed the weapon and reached out towards her with his free hand. Her flinching made him chuckle as he tenderly caressed the soft fur of her leopard ears. Letting his touch wander, he twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger. He was very much enjoying this moment of obedience; that was until he noticed her scowl. He gave a heavy sigh… still so much work to be done. “Now then, pet…” He firmly reminded the tabaxi of her place as he drew back, her strands of hair gracefully tumbling off him. “Hold still for your King.”

Sugar shot him a hateful glare as she tried to still her quivering hands. The healing he provided after the previous couple attempts made it possible for her to remain conscious, but her body remembered the impending anguish. She pushed down as hard as she could against the table, bracing for impact. Her frenzied heartbeat rang throughout her ears as the white-hot iron dangled above her awaiting flesh.

“Ready?”

“Fuck you, Eri.”

He brought down the brand with the entirety of his wrath and she wailed with the entirety of her grief. Her stomach churned from the weight of it all as a rush of wooziness promised to take away the scalding pain. Noticing her skin pale the king viciously pulled at her tresses.

“Your Majesty.”

Sugar could only respond with despairing cries as her eyelids fluttered open.

“Say it.”

The hellfire searing deep into her skin urged her to speak. It dragged those revolting words from the bottom of her strained throat to the tip of her tongue. Among her weeping she hoarsely begged, “Y-Your M-majesty…”

“Louder!”

The bones in her hands began to crack as he applied more force with his demand. “YOUR MAJESTY!” Her desperation filled the room as she looked up at him with flooded eyes.

“Better.” He haphazardly threw aside the brand while roughly releasing his hold on her hair. He leaned down to examine his latest work, but her persistent trembling was interfering. “I told you to hold still.”

Sugar gasped for breath through her uncontrollable sobbing. She tried with every ounce of her power to cease shaking, but only managed to further upset herself when she was unsuccessful. “I-I c-can’t!”

“Useless.” Eri remarked, immobilizing her hand by trapping her fingers underneath his palm against the table. He scrutinized the feather pattern and, despite her incessant bawling, managed to reach a conclusion, “It’s perfect”. He stood up to regard the suffering girl with distain, “Now you won’t forget who owns you.”

She wanted nothing more than to tell him she would never be his no matter what he did to her, but her wrecked body wouldn’t allow it. Every time she attempted, nothing but sputters came out. Through hazy vision she watched as Eri gave her one final scowl before turning to leave the dungeon. Exhaustion prevented her from trying to get the last word in as her heavy lids began to close. “I won’t lose…” she told herself as she rested her head on the table keeping her bound.

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magpiemorality · 4 years

Text

Remus vs. His Birthday

Long post is long, keep reading isn’t working sorry all!

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, gore, murder, nsfw things; unfriendly Remus (he’s just antagonistic not unsympathetic); Remus being rude about the nsfs tag (not an opinion the author holds).

AO3

***

What exactly was the point, Remus wondered, of a birthday? Was it a celebration of cheating death? A consolation prize for getting through another solar rotation of mundane life? An apology to everyone in your life for existing?

Yeah Remus wasn’t sold. Why would you bother? If it was a celebration why celebrate only once a year, when society told you you could, rather than whenever life was actually worth celebrating? Why not impose yourself on all days, or better yet forget days were a thing at all?

(That last part sounded like Janus when he was on one of his society-is-a-con rants but Remus liked the idea. And the rants. They were pretty fun to listen to.)

Today was, apparently, Remus’ birthday, for all that meant to him. The real issue was that, irritatingly, it meant something to everyone else. And before this year, specifically this year, that would have meant squat. But this damn year it meant plans.

Plans were another thing Remus didn’t see the point of. Why think about future things when you could think about now things and just do them? He was all impulse, by design, and sticking to a plan was incomprehensible and pretty revolting to think about, torture plain and simple for a creature like him.

Remus seethed at the very concept, staring daggers at the envelope that had dropped into his home in the subconscious. Literal daggers, shredding the cheerful mint green paper of it with vicious pleasure, until the daggers were just thudding into the floor underneath and he got distracted playing target practice with various shadows of particularly nasty thoughts that crept through the dark corners down where he lived.

Daggers exhausted and eyes back to normal, he collapsed into the blow up armchair he so adored (mostly because it made brilliant fart-like noises whenever he shifted around) and wondering if plotting went against his moral stance on plans. He felt like plotting. He felt like not celebrating his birthday thank you very much.

Unfortunately the next thing to drop in was much more Thomas-shaped, and it dusted itself off nonchalantly while he considered a return to the dagger-eyes.

“J-anus.”

“Remus. Must we be like that?” Janus asked with his very carefully crafted snobbish distaste. “I come in peace.”

“Wish you’d come in pieces. That would’ve been much more fun,” Remus muttered, and as he blinked at the other side body parts started to drop piece by piece around his intruder. Janus glanced down at the first and hid a delicate shudder, returning his gaze to Remus’ face and steadfastly holding it there. Remus dropped a nose on his shoulder just to spite him. He could appreciate a good pun as well as the next side.

Janus cleared his throat. “We would like to celebrate your birthday. It’s not entirely, ah, a birthday party, per se? But Logan predicts the fans might celebrate for you, and Thomas will naturally be unable not to think of you much. The invitation was more of a heads up.”

“Attention? On moi? I’ll have to dress appropriately. Birthday suit is only right!”

“Remus-”

“What? Don’t approve? It’s not even my birthday, Snake Bell. They’re just something Daddy latched onto to make his dreams of normality come true. Besides, it’s not like anyone wants me front of mind- where worse to have your darkest thoughts after all?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Ah, points. I was thinking about those. I think the more the better-” he grinned, twirling his hand and summoning his morning star into it “-but this has precisely none. I don’t want to celebrate it. No one else wants to celebrate it. Drop it there, or I’ll drop you all one by one off a tall building. Or maybe the plank. Now pirates, there’s a fun aesthetic...”

Clearly the conversation wasn’t going the way Janus wanted because he looked visibly frustrated, pulling his hat off to rake a hand through his hair with a little scowl marring his- well, half of his face. If Remus took a meat-cleaver down the centre of his skull he wouldn’t have matching halves. Ooh, Heathers. Now there was another fun aesthetic. Imagine turning up to the joke of a celebration in a cutesy prep school outfit complete with croquet mallet. Hammer. Thing. Remus wasn’t sure of the name, but it didn’t have any points so meh. Maybe it could be a fun experiment, like the Riverdale Heathers episode, which Remus had only experienced through the triple layer disconnect of Thomas watching it and unwittingly handing it over to Janus to hide down in the subconscious where all the other undesirable memories, experiences and miscellaneous things lived. Like Remus!

But he was losing focus, and Janus was still there. Ugh.

“Just be prepared, alright? It would be highly appreciated if you didn’t just show up and antagonise Thomas on the one day he’s allowing you up front. I know it’s hard but just... ix-nay on the eath-day, ex-say and ore-gay?”

“Ooh, ore-gay, or orgy? Did you mean to say orgy?” Remus grinned sharply and Janus’ remaining composure dribbled away.

He muffled a scream into his gloved hands before glaring once more at Remus. “Just behave. Or I will put you back here, and you will stay here until even the memory of you has faded, understood?”

Remus’ mouth clicked shut and he nodded, eyes narrowed balefully under the scorching threat. “Understood. But next time you feel the need to threaten me with hiding again, maybe don’t do it in my own home, hm?”

“Wha-”

“Bye Felicia.” The sound of Janus’ screech as he was shot upwards by a giant tentacle and shoved back through the ceiling to where he belonged was like music to Remus’ ears. Scream music. Oh, how interesting, what if he took screamo music and put it to actual screams?!

It was such a good idea that he forgot about his ‘birthday’ entirely while focused on his project until the next day, when the tugging started. It was gentle at first, just the odd prod, like a big finger was occasionally checking his responses. Like he was a tiny lab rat in a giant world, and boy did that one hit a little too close to home. Home here being allofhisgreatestfearsatonce.

He didn’t want to answer the call, he really didn’t, but... Remus was curious, and impulse won out as always. Because why not go look? Why not go see? Who cared how it turned out- the fun was in the spontaneity, in the doing.

Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was not what he’d have expected had he expected anything at all. But Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was what awaited Remus topside, out in the full force of consciousness. It burned, being here, and Remus was reminded once more that in many ways he’d not been imprisoned down below for everyone else’s safety but also his own. Damn the snake for his constant self-preservation. Remus wanted to be mad at him for leaving for once!

“Hi Remus,” Thomas greeted, that same amusement on his tone. And oh, yeah, he’d gone with the Heathers look after all. It was a warm summer day and skirts were nice and breezy, sue him. Remus struck a pose with the croquet... thing, and bared his sharp teeth.

“Did you miss me? Oh you did miss me didn’t you. I can tell! You’re just so curious about me! Well-”

“Settle down,” Logan warned, and oh. Yuck, other sides.

“Yeah why don’t you-” Remus screamed, high pitched and piercing, as his supposed twin’s voice came from right behind him, spinning and swinging and almost catching Roman in the face with the blunt weapon. Only Virgil’s quick reflexes managed to save him, leaping into the way to catch the head of the mallet like a baseball. Now baseball, there was an impulsive and dangerous sport. Why had they never taken up baseball?

Oh that was right...

“Well done Virgil!” Janus smiled. Because the snake said no. And Virgil said no. And when the two of them agreed even Dream Daddy had to comply. Whatever, it was never too late. The croquet mallet turned into a baseball bat as his thoughts flickered, but it was boring and not pointy enough, until he added the nails.

Everyone flinched back slightly, even Thomas, and Remus hefted the weapon onto his shoulder with a proud jut to his chin. Good.

Thomas looked uncertain but he tried again. “Um, that’s cool. Like from the Walking Dead?”

“Just like that! Who volunteers as zombie?!”

“Actually we had something else in mind!” Thomas interjected quickly, turning his phone around to show the screen. “Look, cool art!”

Remus didn’t miss the glance Thomas sent around the other sides for approval, but he was soon distracted by the contents of the screen. He scrolled, and scrolled, and kept scrolling. Huh. This was, actually pretty cool stuff. Plenty of blood, gore, some sexy things. And all not just about him but for him. Interesting.

Also this tumble thing was dreadfully good. He’d have to get one. Endlessly scrolling on a sea of blue was the perfect- aka worst- kind of instant gratification mixed with cybergothic horror that he’d always wanted to explore creatively not that Thomas would let him if he only understood more about it.

Around the room the other sides and Thomas stood, waiting with bated breath to see what might happen. It had been a few minutes of silence, which had Janus’ jaw dropping open and Virgil shifting nervously on his feet. Roman busied himself looking over Remus’ shoulder and trying not to wince at the gross stuff as he appreciated the art himself. Finally it grew too much and Thomas had to know. He had to!

“Is it good? Do you like it? I think there’s a lot of cool stuff there but-”

“Did you know there was an explicit tag specifically for us?” Remus gasped in delight, before frowning. “Jeez, we get our own tag. How prudish are your audience Thomas?”

“And that’s enough of that!” The phone was neatly plucked from Remus’ fingers and tossed over by Roman, shrugging when Remus glared at him. “So what do you think, Remus? They all made that stuff because they wanted to celebrate you. Janus mentioned you don’t like birthdays, but-”

Remus held a hand up to shut him up. “Okay look, it’s not my birthday. But that stuff was pretty cool. Especially the naughty bits. So, uh, thanks I guess. Don’t get used to it but thanks. And now bye! I have zombies to kill. I need to perfect my Hollywood zombie strike for maximum blood spray and noise.” He blew a kiss and vanished in a pop of noxious gas, leaving poor Roman to gag and leap away before it could get on his clothes.

Beneath them (figuratively) in the subconscious, Remus landed on a trampoline that instantly snapped to dump him on the floor with a thump, where he lay, stunned not from the fall but mostly from all the thoughtful and cool tributes to him he’d seen. Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad. Maybe the point was to feel a little proud of yourself and who you were, and where you were in life. He was, maybe not entirely but certainly almost, a real functioning side in Thomas’ mind, not reduced to intrusive thoughts from time to time when the barriers wore thin.

Also he had a nail-bat now. And a whole bunch of new ideas from the art he’d seen to try out too... Where to start?

Well, apparently he had a whole year to figure that out.

Masterlist | Buymeacoffee

#writepie #ts remus #ts character thomas #ts janus #ts deceit #all sides #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #remus sanders #his birthday!#am I late #maybe

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unfortunate17 · 3 years

Note

From the prompt list - if you find yourself inspired by either, that is - fluff 44 or angst 27 for obikin. Hope you have a happy holidays.

From this prompt list, I went with fluff 44!

Thank you for the prompt, I LOVE YOU ❤️ Hope the last few days of the year are treating you well.

Obi-Wan stands at the edge of docking bay seven, the heat of the day rising in simmers against Jakku’s scorched badlands around him. The black robes he’s donned for this mission certainly don’t help, but the smugglers in this part of the galaxy took great pride in their dark clothing, choosing it specifically to strike terror into the hearts of all those who were unlucky enough to wander close.

He ghosts a hand over his blaster almost habitually. The past six rotations spent without a chance to meditate or simply prod into the force, separated from even the gentle hum of his kyber crystal, has left him more than a little on edge.

“This way, Ben.” The Geonosian’s Basic is poor, but understandable.

Obi-Wan nods minutely, pulls the hood of his cloak tighter even in the sweltering weather. He follows Chakko through the bustling hanger towards a deserted corner where they’d been told to meet their contact.

Chakko slides in close, scaly shoulders bushing Obi-Wan’s own uncomfortably. “Once we have the spice, we’ll need to make quick work of the men,” Chakko mutters, breath hot. Obi-Wan resists the urge to move away. “Once they’re out of the picture, it’s a straight shot to Coruscant. Remember, job’s worth a fortune to the Pykes because they gotta get it up to some of those fancy senators.”

“Yes, I remember,” Obi-Wan replies. Something about these undercover missions always rattle his teeth, the very worst of the galaxy’s underbelly coming into uncomfortably clarity.

They duck around a walled off corner, and suddenly, there’s a hidden entrance to the hanger, just large enough for a small, unassuming ship to slide through relatively unnoticed.

Ah, Obi-Wan thinks wryly, making a mental note of the area, so that’s how they’re avoiding Republic detection.

And sure enough, within just a few moments, a sleek, Naboo cruiser slides into their space, coming to a gentle, puttering stop only a few feet before them. The docking ramp lowers, revealing a lone figure clad in familiar dark robes, hood pulled over their head and face.

Chakko sends him a panicked look. They’d been told to expect Black Sun members.

Obi-Wan almost curses. Fighting a fellow Jakku smuggler could potentially have unknown complications he hadn’t planned for.

“Who’re you?” Chakko demands instantly, blaster gripped tight between his fingers. “Come any close and I’ll shoot.”

The figure saunters forward nonetheless, until they’re almost chest to chest with Chakko. In a movement too quick for Chakko to even comprehend, the blaster is ripped from his hold.

Chakko looks to Obi-Wan now, eyes tinged with desperation as his weapon skitters across the floor. He has a vibro-blade tucked away in his boot, but there’s simply no way he’ll be able to unsheathe it in time. Their assailant is simply too quick.

Obi-Wan steps forward, then, wishing fleetingly for his saber. He raises his own blaster as the figure turns their focus to him. “Hello there,” he says smoothly. “Please understand that we don’t want any trouble.”

Chakko makes an undignified noise. “What the kriff you mean – ”

He never gets to finish his sentence though, because he’s thrown back abruptly against the hanger wall. The impact is hard enough that he crumples unconscious, winged body sliding down against the wall.

Obi-Wan takes one look at the attacker’s sheepish shrug and rolls his eyes, pulling off his hood. “Anakin,” he groans.

A face flushed with excitement greets him immediately as Anakin yanks off his own hood, stepping closer. His golden curls are pressed against his forehead in sweat. “Master,” he smiles, eyes squinting with the force of his grin. He scrapes a hand down Obi-Wan’s slightly overgrown beard. “I missed you.”

Obi-Wan sighs despite himself, allows Anakin to step closer and curl his face into his neck. “Anakin,” he tries again to sound disappointed, but his heart thuds traitorously at the feel of his body after so many rotations. “How did you even find me, my love?”

Anakin nips at his jaw, hands clawing at his robes. “I might have misused your Council clearance codes.”

Obi-Wan huffs even as he tilts his head to give Anakin better access. “You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, but the words sound impossibly fond even to Ob-Wan’s own ears. Anakin trembles as he settles his hands on the small of his back.

“Hey,” Anakin complains, stepping back. His eyes are dark, a lazy wave of lust rolling through the force between them. “At least I’m your idiot.”

Obi-Wan spares a last glance at Chakko, who’s still laying face down. “Come,” he pulls Anakin towards the ship. “I’m hoping you at least told Padmé you were going to borrow her ship?”

Anakin follows, still clinging to him. “Of course I did,” he insists, almost indignant. “She said it was fine as long as we didn’t have sex in it.”

As the docking ramp shuts over Jakku, with Anakin’s mouth slanted over his own, Obi-Wan decides that perhaps, just perhaps, what Senator Amidala doesn’t know, couldn’t possibly hurt her.

#izazov #ask #obikin #I'm sorry this took so long some months my endo really acts up #my writing #obikin fic

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ikenbar · 3 years

Text

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice CH4 PT1

Warnings: Blood, serious injuries, burn wounds, heartache, foreshadowing, Victor ANGSTTT (prepare for that the rest of this chapter to be that way >:D), and a very tedious yet oddly intriguing cliffhanger >:D

(Chapter Four (Victor and Gavin) Prologue, and part two coming soon!)

Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D

Chapter four:

Part one:

In a bright, white room was my queen.

She sat in a large throne wearing a large crown and a beautiful black dress, seemingly dripping with elegance. She waved to me, face remaining emotionless. I approached her without hesitation and bowed to her, the metal from my armor bouncing the light from the room onto her face, making a sort of halo around her already shining eyes. I looked away, feeling unworthy of such light. She put her hand on my arm. I looked up.

She had changed. She was just a child now, no longer wearing her black dress and instead in a strange and… familiar jumpsuit. Her grip was tight on my sleeve, causing me to notice that I had changed into my usual work uniform. I steadied the little girl in my arms. What was wrong? Who hurt her? Tears dripped from the bangs that veiled her eyes. I pulled her close to me involuntarily. She mouthed something to me. Something that she used to say to me all the time. A name she used to call me by.

My heart stopped…

>>>

A bright light shone through my eyelids, making me tense my eyebrows and lifting me slowly back to consciousness and away from that strange dream. I opened my eyes slowly to a vast expanse of a white tiled ceiling. A horrible feeling crept through my throat, giving me the sharp urge to cough. I suppressed it as a gurgling sound came from above me. An oxygen tank hung above my head and monitors with blinking lights displayed themselves around me.

The haze cleared from my head and flashes of distorted images played in my mind. An upside down desk, a large fire, a tall man running up to me,… blood. Lots of blood.

I had shoved my desk over the mask and ran to the door to warn everyone of what was to come. I didn’t make it too far before the bomb had gone off and lit my office a flame. The desk was thrown at me, Crashing into my head and knocking me out on impact. When I came to, smoke had filled the office and it had spread throughout the building. The sounds of crying and screams filled the air. I threw the desk off of me and ran the rest of the way out of the office. I was quick to help as I came across scared and injured employees, ignoring the large burn I had gotten from the explosion. I moved furniture and encouraged people to find an exit but to do so as low as they could. I should have heeded my own words as smoke started filling my lungs and I started to hallucinate. There was a point I could have sworn the world had frozen in time and I was the only one moving. Everything around me seemed to be getting more twisted and mangled until finally I saw a bright light. I moved towards it and fell into the hands of…

My head felt heavy as I turned it to a desk in the corner of the room. A familiar figure sat at it, suit black and clean with his raven hair to match. He held a stern look on his face as he stared at a folder in his hands, knuckles white from how firmy he had been gripping it.

Victor.

I sat up quickly, causing my head to spin wildly. I groaned and clutched it. A chair screeched from next to me and footsteps came rapidly to my side.

“Hey,” Victor said softly, patting my back, “Don’t rush yourself.” I squinted against the pain and looked up at Victor. His eyebrows were in a tight knot as his eyes searched for peace in mine. “Are you alright?” He asked, words meaning more than just the headache. My stare lingered for a moment as I thought about what to say.

“I…” I grumbled. Victor leaned closer as he intently listened to what I had to say, “I... I am going to need an extension on your report.” Victor looked at me strangely for a moment. Then he sighed. His shoulders sagged and his face relaxed. He raised his hand and placed it onto my head.

“Dummy.” Victor whispered and he patted my head softly. The gentle motion made me freeze. But, even though my body had tensed up, I could feel the anxieties about the fire start to ease. I opened my mouth to quip further, but I stopped. The scratchiness in my throat had become more prominent the more I spoke. I cleared my throat, which I instantly regretted as the pain only increased. Victor must have sensed my discomfort.

“How’s your throat?” He asked seriously.

“Dry I guess.” My voice cracked.

“I’ll bring back some water after I get the doctor.” Victor said, pushing me back down on the bed. He pulled the covers up and over my body so that just my head was poking out of it, “Try to stay down.”

I grunted, throat hurting too much to say much more. Victor lingered by my side a bit longer before finally hurrying to the door.

I watched him leave, listening closely as his footsteps disappeared down the hall. I sat back up in bed. As much I would have liked to just lay there and wait for Victor, I couldn’t let other people work to fix what happened.

The sudden movement caused my throat’s scratchiness to become unbearable. Unable to take much more, I finally let out a couple of coughs. I felt debris push through my throat, scratching it even further and causing it to feel worse than before. My headache also worsened with the coughs, pulsing just behind my eyes and verberating through my skull. I groaned and moved to hold my head in my hands… but stopped. An unusual resistance pulled at my left shoulder. Curious, I pulled at the neckline of my hospital gown and looked down. My shoulder had been wrapped thoroughly with a clean white bandage. I thought for a second then an image of a burning desk flying towards me flashed through my mind. When it knocked me out, It must have caught my shirt a flame, scorching my shoulder in the process. I slouched slightly. Once again I was thankful for the nerve damage in my arm. I thought again about what had happened. This time, just before the explosion.

The black mask with the green scarab.

I didn’t think Montu would try to take me down again so soon after the last attempt. I guess I could never really understand what was going through a psychopath's mind, but why was he targeting me? Who out there wants me to hurt so bad that they’d try to bomb my office?

I flinched.

Dylan.

The man I had fired just before the mugging with Sam. He said I would regret firing him. But how would he be able to know I was going to fire him two weeks before I actually did it? After all, that’s when Hickman said he was hired, so he had to know by then that I would fire him. But I didn’t even know I was going to fire him then. How could he? But he was the only one with a vendetta against me… right?

I sighed and directed my attention to the desk Victor was sitting at. A stack of papers and files sat next to a dimly lit laptop. Hopefully I hadn’t been out for too long. Kiro’s filming was going to be-...

I froze.

I was on the phone with Kiro before the explosion.

I groaned and slid my hands through my hair. I hope I didn’t worry him. Let alone miss our filming arrangements. I shoved off my blankets aggressively with my left hand. As I did so, I heard a slight pop come from my shoulder. I quickly looked down at it. I rotated my shoulder. Then prodded at the wound. I didn’t feel any pain or see any bleeding. It should be fine… right?

I nodded to myself and removed the oxygen mask from my face, as well as the other various pieces of tech from my body. Then I stood up and walked over to the desk.

I bent down to look at the laptop screen. There had to be a date somewhere on here. If I could just find it, I would-

Something yellow shone at the corner of my eye. I looked up. Just behind a small stack of files was a small yellow bowl. Inside it sat a small spoon with a lion’s head sticking out of the end of it. It seemed so childish amongst the busy work and intimidating looking files. I frowned and picked up the bowl. I recognized them. That was Maria’s bowl. That was my spoon. What was Victor doing with it?

Just as I placed the bowl back down, the door opened again. Victor walked briskly into the room, holding a cup in his hand with a cap and a straw. My mouth became drier with anticipation.

Victor saw me at his desk and froze. “I thought I told you to stay down.” Victor’s voice was forceful as he quickly walked over to me. I opened my mouth to retort but ended up taking in too much dry air. I started coughing again, this time harsher than the last. I covered my mouth quickly, hoping not to get any germs on Victor’s work. Victor took me by the arm and pulled back to the bed. I complied, closing my eyes as water filled them. I sat down and wheezed. My throat and mouth filled with a strange thick liquid. At first I resisted it but, as the liquid coated the pain in my throat, a sense of relief began to overcome me. A hand rubbed my back but I was quick to wave it away.

Eventually I was able to calm myself enough to open my eyes, letting tears stream from them freely. I looked up and found a middle aged doctor standing in front of me. Victor just behind him, the knot in his eyebrows the tightest I had ever seen. I swallowed and clutched the hand over my mouth into a fist. Something wet squished in it. I looked down at my palm. A large pool of a dark red liquid dripped from it. It was then that I noticed the taste of iron so prominently in my mouth

“Well,” I wheezed, “That can’t be good.”

“Don’t worry!” The doctor said quickly, motioning behind me and to a nurse, “Since your throat is so dry, what debris you have in your lungs will cut you as you cough. It’s nothing we can’t fix with some water and a bit of patience.” The nurse behind me handed the doctor a wet towel, which the doctor took and cleaned my hand carefully. “Mr. Li.” The doctor addressed Victor with an open hand. I looked at him. His eyes were wide and the look of worry had only further increased, which seemed almost impossible before. His grip on the cup had increased, showing witness around his knuckles and a slight shaking of the water inside. His free hand was in his pocket and, from the projudance of it, it looked as if it were balled in a tight fist.

Snapping to, Victor looked over to the doctor and wordlessly handed him the cup of water. “Thank you!” The doctor politely said, taking it and handing it to me with a smile, “Now Miss. Bikira, I want you to drink at least three cups of water today.”

“Alright.” I said hoarsely, reaching for the cup.

“Also, I want you to try not to speak for the remainder of the day.”

I scoffed and glared at the doctor. I began to say something but the doctor promptly stopped me as he shoved the straw of the cup in my mouth. “It’s for your own good.” He lectured, pushing the cup in my hand. I pouted and took a swig of the water. The water washed the taste of iron from my mouth and flowed smoothly down my throat, stinging the cuts as it passed them. I sighed in relief and took a few more drinks.

“Now,” The doctor stood up, “I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. All you have to do is nod or shake your head in response, alright?” I nodded. The doctor smiled with satisfaction and held out a hand to me. I looked at him questionably. “I’m afraid I can’t do the examination with a cup in your hands.” The doctor’s smile never wavered. Neither did my frown.

“Ike.” A soft voice came from behind the doctor. I looked over to see Victor staring at me. His face was resolute, nothing like it was before, almost making it seem like I had imagined the look before. I tried to muster up a face to match Victor’s but, after a minute, I relaxed and sighed. There was no use fighting both doctor and Captain Capitalist.

I gave the cup to the doctor who handed it to Victor. He then waved to the nurse again. She appeared next to me, wheeling in a cart full of instruments towards us. I flinched involuntarily. For some reason, the sight of such tools sent shivers up my spine. The doctor walked closer to the nurse, discussing something in hushed tones. I felt something warm come over my hand. I jumped and looked down. A large and familiar hand had covered mine. I looked up and met Victor’s eyes. He still looked worried but, more than anything, he looked to be determined of something. Seeing him this way made my uneasiness wash away.

And, with that, the doctor began his examination. He asked me questions as he worked, making sure I was fully responsive and showing no signs of a concussion. Victor didn’t let go of my hand the whole time the doctor worked. Occasionally he would offer me the water. Never once did I refuse a drink and never once did he waver with the cup. Seeing Victor like this gave me a strange sense of familiarity. I couldn’t pin point from where but, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling.

Everything seemed to be just fine with me until the doctor had begun unraveling the bandage on my shoulder. I watched him as he worked, nervous to see what happened to me. As he unraveled each layer, they became progressively more and more dense with fresh blood. Victor’s hand suddenly gripped mine tighter. I looked up in time to see Victor reach for my face, moving to block me from seeing the shoulder. I dodged his attack and arched my eyebrow as if to say, ‘What? Don’t think I can handle it?’ Victor’s face became darker. I immediately dropped my expression. I quickly looked down at my arm as the doctor removed the last of the bandage. A large portion of my shoulder was coated with blood and was missing a layer of skin. It looked tender as new blood came from it, making it clear what exactly that pop from earlier had been. I gulped. I had seen myself get hurt before but nothing like this. A strange feeling washed over my body. One that made me feel like the shoulder I was looking at, wasn’t my own.

A large hand appeared in front of me and rested on my cheek. It pulled me away from the scene and back onto Victor. “Dummy.” He croaked, pinching my cheek slightly, “Are you satisfied?” From the tone he was trying to play, it sounded as if Victor was trying to lighten the mood. But from the grip on my hand and the cloud in his eyes, I knew he was more disturbed then I was about the injury.

Without responding, I squeezed Victor’s fingers. He looked down at them then back up at me. I smiled and nodded in a way that told him, ‘I’m fine. Don’t worry.’ Victor’s expression softened, as did his hold on my hand.

The doctor wrapped up my arm again and brought the examination to a close. “Well, Miss. Bikira,” he began, “Besides the large burn on your shoulder, you have a few minor burns and a lot of debris in your lungs. We want you to stay here for observation and rest for a few days.”

“Days?!” I raised my voice, making my throat burn. Victor shoved the straw to my water back into my mouth. I waved him away and kept my eyes on the doctor.

“Yes, five days. At least.” the doctor sighed, “And please refrain from speaking, Miss.”

“I have business I need to take care of.” I persisted in my regular tone, “My office was burnt down. I need to-” The straw re-entered my mouth again, cutting me off. I growled and whipped my head to face Victor.

“You need to be quiet.” He finished my sentence for me, looking at me with a fierce expression, “Do you want to stay in the hospital longer than the incisal five days?” I rolled my eyes and swiped the water from Victor’s hand.

“I’ll let you rest now.” The doctor bowed and left my bed, “Press the call button if you need anything. And, for the last time, Miss. Bikira, try not to speak. If anything, do so in a whisper.” I pouted but said nothing more.

An awkward silence filled the room as Victor and I were left alone. After some time, I heard a slight screech from the chair next to my bed as Victor stood up. “Get some rest.” He said, turning away from me and back to the desk.

“But I can’t!” I whined and drummed my fingers on my cup, “I need to make calls, find a new building, rearrange… some..-” I started coughing again.

“Stop talking.” Victor said firmly, turning back to me and pushing the water close to my mouth, “You’re going to start bleeding again.” I huffed and placed my head on the top of the cup, a lump growing in my throat. Bart’s dream had gone up in flames because of me and I couldn’t even do anything to fix it! Why did I, of all people, have to sit idly by and wait!? What had Bart done so far to fix things?! Hell, was he hurt?! Did everyone make it out?! Did I miss someone in the fire?!? Where was Bart?!!

“I’m here.” Victor’s voice yanked me from my darkening thoughts, making me jump. I whip my head up to lock eyes with him. He was looking at me seriously but there was an obvious sense of comfort laced in his strict features. “I’ll take care of those things personally with Bart. You don’t have anything to worry about. All you have to do now is heal.” Paused, unsure of what to say next. At that moment, I was finally able to get a good look at his face. His eyes were slightly red and soft dark bags sat under them.

“How long was I out?” I whispered. Victor paused.

“... Two days.” He finally said. My eyes widened. Two days… I slumped into my bed, trying to calm my racing mind.

“I thought I was stronger.” One of my thoughts leaked through my mouth without me realizing it. Victor’s hand twitched.

“...What?”

I jumped and kept my head down. “I-I thought… I was stronger than this. A fire left me bedridden for two days. I was almost certain I… was…” The air around me suddenly got tense. I looked up at Victor. I instinctively tensed up.

I had never seen him so furious.

“You had been in the fire and smoke for thirty minutes before coming out.” Victor’s tone had become deep, dark, and intense. I jumped in my seat, “Not only could you have gotten trapped in a burning building but you had spent all of your time helping others instead of taking care of yourself! Do you have any idea how much damage you could have done to your body?!”

“I’m not going to let my employees suffer if I can do something about it!” My voice rose to match Victor’s. My throat burned in protest but I wasn’t going to back down, “How can you expect me to take care of myself when my employee’s lives were in danger?!”

“Your life was in danger!” Victor threw his hands up in protest, “Your company wouldn’t be able to go on without you in it!”

“My company isn’t important! The lives of literally hundreds of people were!”

“Who are you to put a price on a human soul?! What makes other people’s lives more important than yours?!”

“Because I am the reason my company burst to flame in the first place!!” I regretted saying the words as soon as they left my mouth. Victor’s eyes widened. I grimaced and looked away from him. The chair next to my bed creaked as Victor slowly sat back down into it. I raised my hand to my mouth and bit my nail nervously.

“... What do you mean ‘you are the reason?’” Victor gravely asked. I ignored his question and avoided his eyes further. “Ike.” Victor raised his voice, “What did you mean by-”

The room door banged open as someone came running in. I looked up and saw a small, breathless, teenage boy standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a school uniform with a heavy looking backpack hung carelessly from one of his arms. His brown bangs clung onto the sweat on his forehead as he looked at me with wide eyes. Eyes that read plenty of complex emotions past their hazel exterior. “Sam?” I gasped. Sam’s eyes lit up and a wide grin spread through his cheeks.

“Ike!” Sam shouted, throwing his backpack into a corner of the room. He ran to the bed and into my arms. The sharp impact on my chest caused me to wheeze and cough harshly. Victor stood up.

“Careful of the arm.” Victor boomed. Sam jumped back and let me go.

“S-sorry!” He squeaked, pushing himself further down the bed, “Are you ok?! I didn’t hurt you, did I?!” I didn’t reply. I could barely hear him. Instead I looked over Sam seriously, looking for any scrapes or burns. For any sign he was anywhere near the fire.

“...Ike?” He asked, tilting his head and covering his mouth slightly, “Are you-” I grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him into a tight embrace. Sam froze.

“Thank goodness you’re ok.” I sighed, leaning back into the bed with Sam in my arms. Sam stayed in place a moment longer, then he wrapped his arms carefully around my neck, hugging me back.

“I. was. so. Worried.” Sam’s voice was slightly muffled as he held me tighter, “Dad told me about what happened when I came home from school and Maria and Adri were crying-”

“I was not crying.” Another voice chimed from the doorway. I looked up and caught Adri’s eyes as she walked into the room. She threw her backpack into the same corner as Sam’s as she glared at her brother, “There was just-... something in my eyes.”

“Yeah, tears.” Ashton pushed past Adri and walked into the room after her, eyes glued to his phone, “Hey, Ike.” I nodded to him but it was for nothing as he kept his eyes down. He took a seat at the desk and avoided any eye contact with the rest of the room. Victor watched Ashton as he sat down, eyeing him curiously.

“Samuel Lee, don’t you ever run like that on your own again!” A strong motherly voice came from behind the door. Maria came barging in, also pushing past Adri, and came trudging to my bed, “It doesn’t matter what the doctor tells us! We always stick together and you-” Maria locked eyes with me. Tears welled in them as she ran to my side. She held her hand over me, struggling to find a way to address me. I carefully pushed Sam away from me and held out my hand to her. Maria beamed and ran into my chest.

“Oh, Evie,” Maria said through the obvious lump in her throat, “I am so glad you’re awake!!” I opened my mouth but with how much weight that had been pushed against my chest, I started coughing again. Sam and Maria jumped away from me, giving me room to breathe. Victor handed me my cup again. I sipped on it, silencing the room for a moment.

“...I should be going.” Victor stood from his chair.

“You sure?” I choked, “You can stay if you-” Victor pushed the drink closer to my lips.

“What part of ‘stop talking’ is hard for you to understand?” Victor growled indignantly. I raised one of my eyebrows. Victor sighed and moved away from my bed and to the desk, “I have business I need to attend to.” Victor turned to my family, “Be wry of her shoulder and be sure she stops straining her throat.” Everyone nodded with determination.

“Yes sir.” Sam said seriously, "I'll be sure she stays down and quiet! Favorite brother's honor!!" Everyone glanced at Ashton. He merely shrugged and kept his eyes on his phone. Victor nodded to Sam then faced me.

“Ike, don’t think you have avoided our conversation.” His tone was the same sternness from before. I felt my shoulder tense. Victor turned away from me again and took the coat that hung from the back of his chair, carefully pushing Ashton forward as he did so. Ashton mindlessly complied, not wavering his attention from his phone for a second. “I’ll be back to pick up my things later." Victor said, slinging on his coat one arm at a time, "Enjoy the time with your family. And, for goodness sakes, Ikamara, will you try to keep your mouth shut?”

“Yes sir.” I whispered, rolling my eyes. Victor’s stare lingered on me a little longer before he finally left the room, closing the door behind him.

Silence overcame all of us. “So,” I tried to break the ice, keeping my voice in a whisper, “Where’s Bart?”

“He’s working on reorganizing the company.” Maria walked around and sat down in the chair Victor had been sitting in.

“Since you’ve been out, he’s been working nights to get everything back in order.” Adri came closer as well, taking the doctor’s stool from the other side of the bed.

I sighed, “I wish I could have woken up sooner.”

“Evie,” Maria smiled and caressed my hair softly, “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t help this. Besides, Victor has been a lot of help.” I raised a curious eyebrow.

“Oh?” I straightened my posture, “How so?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Sam smiled brightly, “Victor offered you guys space in his big building!” My heart jumped, “He apparently had places for people to work in temporarily. Dad said it was only until your office gets rebuilt.” I stared at Sam. Why would Victor do such a thing? Wouldn’t it just be more trouble for him?

“He also stayed here to watch over you.” Adri’s voice had a slight teasing tone. I whipped my head around to face her. She had raised an eyebrow and her lips curved into a smirk, “He was always here when we visited and sometimes we would find him waiting outside or talking to doctors.” My cheeks burned, causing Adri’s smirk to widen, “So, that makes two handsome men who will come to your beck and call? How lucky are you?”

“Excuse me!?” I scoffed, “What are you-”

“Three!” Sam spoke up smirking just as evily as Adri, “She also has a neighbor who is a police officer who was all over her last I heard!” My face flushed as I opened my mouth to argue, but my words were buried as my thoughts wondered. I had to call Gavin and let him know about the case. I couldn’t hide the fact I was being targeted from him for much longer. He had to find out at sometime. Especially if it meant being able to use the resources of the police department with it…

But that would also mean there would be a chance that I would get kicked off the case. If Gavin was willing to put his life in danger to keep my title of an evolver safe, who knows what he would do if I told him I personally was being targeted… Still, I should call him and let him know that I’m alright. Hopefully he finds the fact I was blown up twice within a few weeks funny. I hope the joke will land over the phone… the phone…

A memory came to mind. One of my phone falling from my hand just before the explosion.

Kiro.

I needed to tell him what happened and let him know where we are going from that point on in the production of the show… that is, once I get the information for it. I should also let him know I’m ok. He was on the phone with me when it happened. I probably scared him really bad. If not for the fact that I was hurt, then for the sound of an explosion itself. I hope I didn’t affect his work or him too badly…. work...

Lucien had gone on a business trip not too long ago. I wonder if he knew about the explosion. I wonder if he was worried. Although, after the date I had given him, I wouldn’t blame him if he was more relieved then worried. Still, I should give him a call. Let him know what happened and that I was fine.

I looked over to the phone on my bedside table. The question became, who would I call first?

“Ashton, your chess club starts soon.” Maria checked her phone for the time, “I need to get you home so you can change.”

“Don’t worry!” Sam spoke up and swung his arms back around my neck, “Adri and I can stay and watch Ike!”

“You, mister, promised to mow Mrs. Montenegro's lawn.” Maria patted Ashton’s back so that he would stand up, “You need to get home before it gets dark.” Sam groaned and slouched childishly. “Come on.” Maria ushered Ashton to the door. Sam gave me one last hug before jumping off of the bed.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing ok.” Maria kissed my cheek, “Adri, would you like to come home?”

“Nah.” Adri spun in her stool, “It’ll be nice to relax here in the quiet.”

“You mean, working on your school work?” Maria glared at Adri. Adri stopped spinning and smiled at Maria cheekily. Maria rolled her eyes and looked back at me. “Try to relax, alright, Evie?” I nodded, still slightly lost in thought. Maria gave my hand one last squeeze before walking the two boys out of the room. Adri stood up and took the chair Maria had left, slouching into it and pulling out her phone. She didn’t seem to want to have a conversation.

“Do you mind if I make some phone calls?” I asked her, reaching for the phone on the table next to me. Adri looked up from her phone.

“Didn’t Mr. Victor say you needed to stop talking?” Adri arched her eyebrow, “Do you plan to whisper the whole time?”

“What are you gonna do, tell on me?” I arched my eyebrow back at her.

“I dunno! Maybe!” She looked back at her phone and smiled, “I’d kinda like to see Mr. Victor freak out over you again.” I rolled my eyes and handed her my cup of water. Despite what she said, she complied to my movement, taking my water cup with her phone free hand. I picked up the receiver from the table but hesitated over the keypad. Who would I call first? The superstar who I was on the phone with before the explosion? The cop who is investigating my case? Or the doctor who could get me out of the hospital faster with a few tips?

After a moment to think, I pushed his number in with determination. I took a deep breath and listened to the tantalizingly monotoned dial tone. Half of me wanted him to pick up while the other half of me panicked at the thought of speaking to him.

After the fourth tone played,

someone finally picked up.

(Next)

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lost-eternity · 4 years

Text

Matchup Requests: CLOSED

Match up request for:

Match up request for: @bumbleslut

Okie dokie. I match you with...

Deadpool / Wade Wilson!

Okay this was a difficult one

But let me explain why

Wade disguises his insecurities and flaws behind wise cracking jokes.

He has a thick skin and is easily able to act tough and unaffected, despite how deep the words cut

It is because of this tendency to neglect and hide his emotions that I feel he would work well with you

Your deeply compassionate and empathetic nature, combined with the persistence of a hopeless romantic is just the type of personality I feel Wade needs to not only open up but reconcile with himself

He refers to himself as sexy or handsome, but we know for a fact that he is ashamed of his scarred face. Like his new face somehow diminishes his worth as a person

Which just isn't true

But he needs someone open minded enough to tell him that

Someone who would truly find him to be beautiful, even if his beauty is not conventional

Wade Wilson is presented as being morally ambiguous and is often brought up in reference to anti-heroes, however, I think the opposite is true. Wade has a very strong moral compass and can distinguish right from wrong. He always tries to do the right thing... he just has rather unorthodox methods of achieving those things.

While I wouldn't say he is sensitive, I think part of that is because he has buried his own emotions so deep that he chooses to ignore them.

Which again, I feel like is something he would need help with unlocking

As a couple, you two would be legit

You both have rather talkative characters so I can say that without a doubt, there would never be a dry moment between the two of you

It could get chaotic

But that's fine. Wade revels in chaos

I also feel like you have the capacity to defend yourself

Show some snark and sarcasm. And, if not, Wade would definitely influence you into become a bit more of a bitch.

In a good way, hahaha

Unconventional adventures and weird little trips is definitely something you would find yourself involved in a lot

It's not like Wade ever explains why

But it doesn't matter cause the two of you have a blast wreaking havoc

You would act as Wade's conscience on these little outings

A foil to his reckless behaviour, keeping him safe, and morally in the right

Eventually he will learn to do this on his own- for your sake

He claims it is because he doesn't want to hear you talk "my already melty ears off" but it's because he cares about you 😉

3AM Netflix movies are a common thing

He'd probably come in through the window missing a hand or a leg and you are just staring at him like: "bitch, what???"

Although he just wants to cuddle and watch Netflix and pop popcorn

It's like... 'dude, it's 3AM, and you crawled through MY window missing a limb... and ask to watch ‘This is Us’???’

He'd never admit it but he has a thing for soap operas

You were also pleasantly surprised to see that he owned every episode of Star Trek. Or as he put it "The classics. Not the one with the bald guy that looks like Professor X."

Be prepared to be flirted with a lot

And his words can get pretty dirty pretty fast

You may have to talk him down

Seriously, he loves trying to make you blush

And oh boy, try he will

You will have to learn to either out flirt him, or shut him up with a snarky comment or remark

But I don't think that will be too much of an issue as you have no qualms stating your opinions

Wade does like a girl who can stick to her guns and defend her viewpoint.

He finds it admirable

Let's be honest. You met at a strip club.

Well kinda

You were walking past a strip club when it exploded

Yes, it exploded

The blast wave knocked you behind a car, lucky for you because the flying shrapnel did not hit you

Ears ringing and vision blurry, you sat there for a moment trying to figure out what the hell just happened

That was when a figure came flying out of the burning building, skidding along the asphalt and nearly colliding with your feet

"Wheeew!" The masked figure groaned rolling onto his back as he hitched up his leg. "That was not a superhero landing." He coughed.

You stared at him, still kind of in a daze from you know... the explosion

Apparently he noticed you for the first time. "Oh, hello! How's your Wednesday been?"

You just kinda stare at him

That was when you heard a very loud, very angry sounding voice screaming "DEADPOOL" from within the blaze

"Shit, gotta go. Mamma's ringing." The masked figure cooed and rolled to his feet before walking back into the fire screaming something about... 'deepthroating a bell'?

Now properly confused and somewhat recovered from the initial blast, you figured that the smart thing to do would be to run away

But you knew that there were still people in that burning club

You could hear their screams

You had to help them

Steeling your nerve, you walked into the fire

The smoke was suffocating and the feeling of asphyxiation was beginning to set in as your covered your mouth with a rag

Through the stinging smoke which scorched your eyes, you were able to make out three figures cowering under a fallen beam.

The roof crackled as the fire threatened the integrity of the building.

Reaching out your hand seized calloused burnt palms and you began to escort them out of the building

Moving further in, you heard the sounds of a battle ensuing

Two hulking shapes danced through the smoke

One was the man who you had met earlier and the other?

You weren't entirely sure what he was

It looked like he was wearing some kind of... bell on his head. And cape...

You guessed this was there the first man's bell comments came from

But seriously, what was going on

That was when you noticed the bell-guy lifting an arm, his entire right hand has been replaced with a heavy-looking metal sphere

And he cobbled it straight into the first guy's gut

With a loud grunt, Deadpool crashed into a beam behind them, causing the entire building to shake

If this continued, these two idiots would bring the entire roof down on top of you and kill everyone

You had to stop them

Hyped on adrenaline and possessed by some kind of heroic spirit, you interjected yourself between the two of them screaming "STOP!!!"

Both figures seemed to grind to a halt, even bell guy who stared at you

Then you proceeded to give them a lecture in structural damage

You, this small little human between a towering Goliath of a bell person, and an actual superhero

You were sure you were going to get them to move this conflict outside with the roof gave one final screech before entirely fracturing, sending flaming beams piling right on top of you

You awoke somewhere entirely new

Your head was pounding, your hair charred and your skin blistering from the fire

You had no idea where you were... or how you got there

And as you slowly regained consciousness, your brain swimming in what felt like treacle, you became acutely aware of someone's finger jabbed into your cheek

Wincing, you tried to pull away but realised that something was restraining you

Your vision blurred as you opened your eyes

The red-masked man was literally right in front of your face, pressing what you could only assume was his nose against your own

Jerking back, your head hit a wall, sending a spike of pain rushing through your skull

"Whoa! Calm down there, Sparky." Deadpool pulled back, removing his finger from your cheek.

"W-where?" You rasped and looked around

You were tied to a metal chair, your arms bound behind your back

Deadpool sat in a similar chair next to you. Except he was shackled by his feet, not tied with rope

You appeared to be in some kind of warehouse... a rusty fan above your screeching with every rotation of its fins

"The big baddie caught us." Deadpool hummed. "Stupid of you to try to intervene."

You fixed him with an expression somewhere between acquiescence and a glare

He chuckled

"Do you have a plan to escape?" You groaned

"Of course!" Deadpool replied happily

"No, you don't." You sighed, noticing the hesitation in his tone

Deadpool just gasped, a sound akin to a little kid. "How'd you know? Are you a telepath?"

You sighed, wincing slightly as the aching in your head doubled back. You asked him what he had done to piss off this bell guy, who you could only assume was your captor

"Oh, that. Uh, well. Dr. Bong and aren't on the best of terms because may or may not have accidentally, purposefully cut off his hand...."

"You WHAT?"

He changed the topics on you and for the next 30 or so minutes blabbered on and on about one thing or another, as if being kidnapped and tied up did not concern him in the slightest

That was when Dr. Bong showed up (a name you found entirely ridiculous, albeit a bit fitting)

Turns out he has a major crush on this lady named Beverly

And that he was going to use Deadpool as bait to lure her out and force her on a date

Seemed like a completely nonsensical plan but this guy also seemed like a regular old psychopath

Still, you had to empathize with his tale of unrequited love

The poor thing just wanted to belong somewhere, but has been told old his life that he was too ugly or fat

So you two began talking

Much to Deadpool's chagrin who kept yelling at you to "stop sympathizing with the bad guy!"

You didn't listen

Everyone deserves a chance, that was your own personal philosophy

You advised Dr. Bong on dating and romance, speaking to him as you so often speak to your friends

You helped him to gain the confidence he needed to just ask this Beverly out, saying that her love wouldn't be real if it was first

He actually seemed to agree and after a few hours of talking he... let the two of you go

Deadpool was absolutely floored

This girl who he had just met defeated the bad guy by listening to him.

Wtf?!?!

He was very much intrigued after this encounter, convinced you were hiding some kind of superpower. So he walked you home and gave you his number

Whatever you choose to do with this wisecracking anti-hero's number is entirely up to you ;)

I hope you enjoyed. I am sorry for the wait, dear. Do tell me what you thought, though :)

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 4 years

Text

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Six

"Get up!" A raspy voice Thomas tried to shout.

His voice still woke most of us up. He was staggering to get to his feet. He started shouting louder waking the rest of us up. We were all back on our feet in no time wondering what was going on now.

"I see something," Thomas said pointing in the distance.

I followed his finger. I could see the twinkling lights like a small town or settlement in the distance.

A loud crack of thunder had us turning around. A huge storm was rolling towards us quickly. Lightning was striking the ground all around us. We ran as fast as we could towards the lights. They were getting closer and closer but so was the lightening. One good strike hit the ground only a few feet from me.

"Get inside!" Thomas shouted as we reached a building.

I stayed back close to Thomas making sure the others were getting inside. I turned to yell at Minho to pick up the pace when a rather large bolt came down striking a nearby car then bouncing off and hitting Minho. He flew into the air then landed on the ground with a loud thud. Thomas was too close as well. He was thrown a few feet from the force of it.

"Minho! Thomas!" I shouted running over to them.

Thomas looked disoriented but was getting back to his feet. Minho on the other hand was lying motionless with a bit of smoke coming off his body. I grabbed him with my good arm as Thomas got to his feet. The others came out helping me pick him up and carry him inside out of the storm. We laid him down on the ground.

"Minho!" Thomas shouted in his face.

I pushed Thomas out of the way so I could look at the boy. A small smirk played at my face as I had a wonderful thought. I pulled my arm back then slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Minho seemed to jump awake but didn't open his eyes. He groaned in pain making everyone sigh in relief. When he did open his eyes he looked straight up at me.

"What happened?" He asked looking dizzy.

"You got struck by lightning," Thomas told him.

"Then Emi slapped the piss out of you," Newt added with a chuckle.

We helped him sit up making sure he was actually ok. As much as I hate to admit it I was glad he was ok. I couldn't stand to see another one of us die. Even Minho. It didn't take long to get him back to his feet like he was good as new.

"What's that smell?" Teresa asked from a few feet away.

I watched her pull out her flashlight and turn it on. The moment she did I about pissed myself. One of those things was right in front of her! It reached out barely missing her face. We all screamed falling backward. A quick look around showed us there were many of them and they were all chained up unable to move but a few inches.

"I see you've met our guard dogs." A female voice spoke as a light on the other side of the room came on.

What now? What the hell is this place? I think I want to go back to the Glade now. Can I just wake up in my old room in the homestead with Gally beside me like all this was just some insane horrible nightmare?

The girl started walking towards us down a clear path between those messed up people. She stopped a few steps from us.

"Stay back" Thomas ordered her.

She smirked at him.

"You guys look like shit. Come on. Follow me. Unless you want to stay here with them." She said glancing around the room.

We followed behind her quickly leaving that room behind. She opened a door that led into an open warehouse looking building. People were all over the place. Whatever they were doing or saying stopped as we passed by.

"Come on keep up. Jorge wants to meet you." She said back to us.

"Who's Jorge?" Thomas asked.

I noticed rough looking people filling the group behind us as we walked. I suddenly had a bad feeling. Something isn't right.

"You'll see. No ones came out of the scorch in a long time. You just got him curious." She shrugged glancing back at Thomas.

"Me too" she added.

"I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this place," Newt whispered from behind me.

"Let's just hear him out and see what he has to say," Thomas whispered back to us.

We followed the girl up some stairs and into a loft type room. An older man was standing with his back to us. It looked and sounded like he was messing with a radio.

"Jorge, they're here." The girl said.

"Shh, shh, shh" he said quickly as a voice barely came through the speaker.

He rushed around trying to find something. The voices broke off losing signal. He tried messing with it again with no luck.

"Damn" he muttered.

He slammed a few things down then turned to face us. He looked the group over for a moment before speaking.

"You ever feel like the whole world is against you?" He asked us.

We all exchanged confused glances. I knew I wasn't exactly sure what the man was getting at but I did have the feeling the world was against us. The man walked forward as he continued.

"Three questions" he picked up a glass and pitcher.

"Where did you come from?" He held the glass up like he was inspecting it.

"Where are you going?" He poured the liquid in the pitcher into his cup.

"How can I profit?" He looked at us clearly meaning every word.

No one answered. We all just stared at him. I don't think we really knew where we were going. We couldn't answer any of those questions. Well aside from the first one but I don't think telling him we are on the run from W.C.K.D. was a good idea. The man glanced at each of us with a scowl.

"Don't all answer at once." He said sarcastically.

"We're heading for the mountains. Looking for the Right Arm." Thomas said taking a small step forward.

The group of people around us cackled menacingly. Jorge smiled and chuckled.

"You're looking for ghost you mean." He took a drink from his glass.

"Question number two." He said as he walked forward to stand in front of Thomas.

"Where did you come from?" He asked stopping in front of my brother.

Thomas and Minho shared a look.

"That's our business," Minho said.

Jorge looked at him for a second then slightly nodded his head. Two men grabbed Thomas and Minho as others grabbed the rest of us.

"Get the hell off me!" Thomas shouted as he struggled.

He was thrown to his knees as the girl who showed us in stepped over to him with some kind of device in her hand.

"Shut up you big baby." The girl said as she moved to do something to the back of his neck.

The device made a faint beeping sound then she stepped away from Thomas towards Jorge.

"You were right" she said handing the device to the older man.

He put glasses on his face then took the device. He stared down at it for a moment.

"Right about what? What is she talking about?" Thomas asked.

Jorge chuckled as he took the glasses off.

"I'm sorry Hermano, looks like you're tagged. You came from W.C.K.D. Which means, you're very valuable." He looked at us with an icy stare.

I gulped feeling a sudden panic rise in my chest. Each of us was grabbed again this time we were drug out of the room. I didn't get a chance to see where we were going because a sudden pain ripped threw my skull as everything went dark.

I woke up hanging upside down. A rope was tied around my ankles just like the others. We all hang in a circle over a large hole.

"This is great" I muttered.

"Good plan Thomas. Let's hear what the man has to say. Really working out for us." Minho droned sarcastically.

"Shut up Minho" Thomas muttered.

"Maybe I can reach the rope," Thomas said.

I heard him grunt as he was no doubt trying to lift himself up to grab the rope around his ankles. I was hanging with my back to him barely rotating around.

"Enjoying the view?" Jorge asked from the darkness.

He stepped out so we could see him.

"The hell do you want?" Thomas asked him.

"That is the question." He said pointing his cane at Thomas.

"My men want to sell you back to W.C.K.D. Life has taught them to think small. I'm not like that. Something tells me that you're not either." Jorge spoke to Thomas.

"Is the blood rushing to my head or is this shank not making any sense?" Minho asked aloud.

Jorge moved so he could look at Minho. He sneered at him then turned back to Thomas. He lifted his cane to point at him.

"Tell me what you know about the Right Arm." He ordered.

"You said they were ghosts," Newt said.

"I happen to believe in ghosts. Especially when I hear them chattering on the airwaves." He said in a creepy voice.

He moved to stand by the lever that held each of us in place. He placed his hand on it as he looked at Thomas.

"You tell me what you know and maybe we can make a deal." He said as his face looked completely blank.

Silence passed. No one said anything at first.

"We- we don't know much," Thomas said simply.

Jorge hit the lever then we all fell a few feet before jerking back. Each of us let out our own startled cry.

"Ok, ok, alright. They're hiding in the mountains and they attacked W.C.K.D got out a bunch of kids. That's it that's all we know." Thomas said quickly moving his arms as he spoke.

Jorge stared at him for a moment. He stepped forward opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by one of his men saying his name. The man walked into the room glancing between us and Jorge.

"What's going on?" He asked putting his hands on his hips.

"Me and my new friends were just getting acquainted. We're done now." Jorge said nonchalantly.

"Hey, wait, you're not gonna help us?" Thomas asked.

"Don't worry Hermano. We'll get you back where you belong." Jorge smiled then turned his back and walked away.

"Hang tight" he added then left the room.

"Seriously?" I questioned aloud in annoyance.

"What now?" Fry asked.

I glanced around the best I could. I had Next on one side of me and Minho on the other. Next to Minho was Teresa.

"I have an idea," Teresa said suddenly.

"What?" Thomas asked.

"I'm smaller you guys can push me over to the lever and I can let us down." She explained quickly.

Everyone nodded. It was the only plan we had right now. I wouldn’t be any help due to my injury. Fry and Minho were beside Teresa so they made their bodies swing back and forth until they could reach her. Once they could touch her they started pushing her like she was on a swing. They were trying to build up the momentum. Thomas grabbed her once she was far enough to help get her over. It took several minutes and every hand we had to get her over to the lever. She missed the first time but grabbed it the second time. She pulled the ropes off herself then worked on getting the rest of us down.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #gally #gally imagine #gally smut #gally x reader #the maze runner #the maze trials #tmr gally #original character #the trials of emi

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lasttimeonthenegaverse · 4 years

Text

The Life and Times of the Negaverse Chapter 3

Dinners and Demands

She let her feet guide her and...she stopped right before the kitchen. Dinner. That meant eating, that meant sitting down and having time to process what she was feeling. She gulped. It had seemed so simple, then again, her fits of emotion were always simple in the short term. And then it was a barrage of apologies for what she’d done in her fury, or devastation. Like leaving Da...She shook her head. No, no thinking of that. She was just…..march ahead. Gosalyn had been placed at one end of the table, LaunchPad close to her. Negaduck sat on the other side of him so she was to sit next to her new….. charge. Ah there was the instant regret. What had she been thinking accepting even partial responsibility for a child? She wasn’t allowed to watch the other Gosalyn without supervision from the girl’s overprotective father. It was genuinely... “She always overthink this much?” LaunchPad’s voice startled her from her own thoughts and looked up to see that...all of them were staring at her. “It’s okay. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. She’s probably just thinking about her life and all the things she’d be giving up.” Gosalyn’s voice was a small whine that tugged at her heart strings. “It’s alright Miss -Not this- Morgana. We’ll be fine on our own. You can go back home. Your Gosalyn needs you!” LaunchPad said nothing, but he bit his beak. NegaDuck turned to glare at the girl and the fury in his gaze gave her the strength she needed. She had to be here to protect that girl. After all, NegaDuck had come to ask for help. How much worse than him were the creatures that always took her! “Well she may but...you need me more” Morgana smiled and tried to move…..and noticed that from her knees down was encased in a thick and solid block of ice. “Sorry about the cold feet. I’ll handle that in a moment” Well that was embarrassing. She gave a huff. Once upon a time her powers were nearly immeasurable and every spell found it’s target. Now she froze up like a child put on the spot at a family dinner. Morgana looked down, focusing fire downward, but paying attention to the math even as she let her elemental magic flare. The only thing more embarrassing than cold feet would be giving herself a nasty case of scorch. NegaDuck would think she was useless and her magic was too dangerous, much like… “I thought you said she came willingly?” LaunchPad murmured to his husband. Negaduck shrugged.

“She did. And not even on false pretences.” A raised brow from the Pelican. “Promise . I mighta just brought uncomfortable truths to light….slid a few…. ideas in.” LaunchPad sighed. There was no trying to fix whatever terrible plan had been set in motion. Best to let it run it’s awful course and figure out how to slot the pieces later. Granted...last time he did that they ended up with a kid...ah well. What could really happen this time? “Okay. Then” Morgana sat down, the bottom of her dress still a bit damp. “What’s for dinner?” She asked gently...also because….what was she looking at? She tilted her head as she looked at it. It looked like her slime cream pies, but the wrong color. Plus, Dark never even tried her food let alone have LaunchPad make the recipe. And why would they be having dessert for their main course?

“Leftover Casserole” LaunchPad scoffed. “And I’m a better cook then Negs so enjoy.” NegaDuck looked offended at the accusation….and didn’t refute it so…. Morgana nodded and took her fork to the dish…..then couldn’t pull it back out. Gosalyn seemed to have the same problem, she wasn’t actually eating the dinner, her fork was stuck and she was nibbling at some chips. That wasn’t good. “You know” And he glared at her as NegaDuck snickered. “When the texture is this sticky, forks have more spaces to hold onto.” She wiggled her fingers and turned it into a serrated spoon. “This is usually best when the food is still moving, but this is even tougher than Tar Rice. Good on you. Mine falls apart.” She looked back down and sharply twisted her serrated edge into the sludge, effectively severing it. With a wave of her hand the other three forks were similarly transfigured. “I was only asked to help with watching and raising. Watch is easy, I’ll ward her room tonight. But raise, well, I defer to the parents. That being said...I don’t really think chips are a good idea for dinner.” “You haven’t tasted the food” NegaDuck smirked. Gosalyn giggled while LaunchPad glared at his husband. Unperturbed, the duck hopped up to fill with water three glasses and…..and a sparkly pink cup. She didn’t tend to drink tap but still...at seeing what was obviously Gosalyn’s cup Morgana felt the smile pulling at her beak. It was clear that this child was surrounded by love and so far better than Dark had thought…..then she had a bite of food. Oh…. oh ….oh no. A hand flew to her beak and it didn’t matter that LaunchPad looked deeply offended or that NegaDuck and Gosolyn were both holding back their laughter. Oh NO . How was this child alive? In fact, how were any of them alive. Oh JEEZ it was like it was expanding in her mouth and getting stuck in her throat. Coating everything and filling her mouth with the revolting taste of decay. She needed….. Morgana didn’t really register the glass of water in her hand. Not until she was taking great greedy gulps of the water. She only stops drinking when she’s choking, a lack of air from drinking too much too fast. Even then the taste still clings in her mouth. Negaduck is trying and failing to pretend that he’s not moments away from bursting into hysterical laughter and little Gosalyn takes a bite of a chip that somehow seems….. smug.

“What” Morgana manages “Is in this?” “It’s not that bad” LaunchPad scoffs, managing to wrangle a bite of his own. The second it passes through his beak he winces. “Okay….maybe this batch is pretty bad.” He hums and has to Morgana’s growing horror another bite. “Okay, you maybe weren't exaggerating too badly. The spoon is full again and her hand finally flares out, magic wrapping around his wrist. “Why?” Her voice is soft in terror, even as he tries to fight the spell, to shove more of... that into his mouth. Oh sweet merciful magic no wonder the child was eating chips. LaunchPad frowned and shrugged slightly. “It’s what’s for dinner. We gotta eat something . No cook got kidnapped.” Her look of purest horror was met with a shrug. “It’s not the worst thing we’ve eaten. The Hotdogs mighta gone bad...or the custard was scorched.” She had to take a deep breath. ‘Leftover casserole’ was what he’d called it. So….what that probably meant was that all of the leftovers went into a pot….and….

“When can I go back to my Saint Canard?” She asked suddenly. A snort of laughter came from somewhere but she couldn’t identify where. It wasn’t NegaDuck. His face was twisted somewhere between disbelief and rage.

“Seriously? Giving up after a lil food?” He snarled. “You wanna go running right back in the arms of your loving precious little can’t even trust you Darkwing. Do you even know how hard it was to make myself ask for your help-”

“With protecting that child?” Morgana asked, stone faced. Had NegaDuck’s words hurt? Obviously. But he was Negaduck it was in his nature to be needlessly cruel and it was in the nature of all parents to lash out when they were worried about their children. The rationale didn’t stop everyone’s feathers from standing on end due to the influx of electricity in the room. “I plan to. The first thing is to make sure she has nutritional food. I happen to be a cook. Though…” And there was a stray flame that sprung up on the table. She used her hand to stamp it out, but everyone was looking at the very literal heat from her tone. “Some people, whom will remain unnamed, do not even TRY my cooking, there are LOADS of others that like it and at the very least it’s editable.” LaunchPad growled and magic or no she had the common decency to smile at him “You said this batch was particularly bad. I’m sure it’s fine most of the time. I just” He calmed slightly, but still looked a bit livid. “cooking on rotations? Please?” The word seemed to throw him for a loop before he snorted, a crooked grin slicing across his beak. His grin causes her to calm down just slightly. “Lemmie get ya summore water” LaunchPad’s smile never faltered. “Fer de rest of your food. Can’t go back on an empty stomach.” There’s something mildly feral in that grin. Apparently he took the slight to his cooking to heart. NegaDuck glares at him slightly, but he seems oddly chipper as he goes to grab water. “Really I just need the vibrational frequency of this plane of existence and I can whip up a spell to slide between them as easily as walking to the store.” She tried to rationalize. NegaDuck snarled. She could go between!? Well that was an unfortunate development. What the fuck kind of havock could she reak on his kid leaving her alone whenever it struck her fancy. LaunchPad seemed to have the same idea. No faith, none whatsoever. He could solve this! He was Negaduck “We don’t know that information so Negs’d have to take you. He’ll do it in the morning.” LP was grinning as he placed the glass of water in front of her. NegaDuck’s eye twitched. He was NOT going to spend all night arguing and STILL end up with an ‘I told you so’ nope, nuh uh, NEVER

“Why exactly .” He started as Morgana took a reluctant bite of food and shot back the whole glass of water to wash out the taste. “Do you need to go back?” He was forcing his voice to stay even, but her hand had gone up to her head. She didn’t seem to notice that Launch looked pleased. NegaDuck sighed. His Husband was so unbelievably petty. But hey, he loved the man for a reason. “Food of course. And A few spell ingredients to better ward Gosalyn.” She was frowning and checked the glass she’d been given. “That was tap water wasn’t it?” She groaned slightly. “The pipes in every St. Canard are bad.” She lamented. That caused frowns around the table.

“You’ve tasted water like that afore?” LP asked, concern sneaking into his tone. He was fine with randomly poisoning people, but by trying to abandon his daughter she was now his enemy and he didn’t like the idea that someone might finish killing her first. She nodded, before NegaDuck spoke again. “Why don’t I just take a duffel bag and clean out your house?” He didn’t want to Haul around duffels of useless shit. It was better than the alternative of her going home and meeting up with Dipshit Duck and letting him sweet talk her into forgiving him and leaving this Gos in the dust. “Almost all of the Tap water in Saint Canard. The water at the tower of course but sometimes even the water in my house.” She shrugged to LaunchPad before snickering at NegaDuck. “My house can’t be cleaned out. There are multiple rooms and multiple pocket dimensions in each room. Not to mention protective spells to keep others away” Nega had to bite back a scoff at that. After all, her protective wards hadn’t been able to do shit to keep him from breaking and entering multiple times. But….he hadn’t grabbed at anything. “Tap water gives me headaches…..though…. bag ….You may be able to steal one item. My universal satchel. It connects directly to my home. If I had that then I could get what I need without leaving.” “Yeah, great. Tell me what the purse looks like and I’ll pick it up tomorrow” Gosalyn’s face fell into a pout that was the likely precursor to a screaming sension. “It’ll take me what, an hour, three at most. I’ll leave first thing in the morning and be back by lunch. Right there, right back.” LauchPad was ignoring his poor Husband trying to appease their daughter and focused more on the fact that the woman in front of him had apparently been actively drinking water spiked with trace amounts of bleach. Who was trying to….well, bleach in trace amounts would only suffice in giving her massive headaches, palpitations after a while but who did she piss off that much? That wasn’t outright kill, that was ‘get revenge’ like how he was getting revenge on her for trying to leave his kid. If she had enemies like that on the other side maybe she was good for Gos. “It’s a small round red bag. Blood red not Crimson. It has pentagrams in shimmering black. Glittering Black and it’s the bag of souls. Exactly one cobweb or you’re picking up multiverse bags and those are nothing but trouble.” NegaDuck listened carefully, though he seemed more annoyed than anything. It was just the way his face fell. Bloodred bag, shimmering black pentagram, single cobweb. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- bright red glitter black lotta cobwebs I got it.” It was hilarious the instant offence that spread across her face, as well as how she half rose to curse him out but ended up stuttering and half swallowing her words trying to keep Gosalyn of people from hearing them. It was fucking glorious the indignant blush that painted her face. He let the smirk he’d been holding back slice across his beak. “Morgs. Blood Red, one cobweb, fuckin relax.” She wasn’t relaxed. Her knuckles were taunt she was clenching her fists so hard. Delightful . He chuckled at her and smirked at his daughter. “Alright Buttercup, time for sleep. You feel like kickin and screamin or are you gonna do your sweet act to trick me into not leaving?” She pouted at him again and glanced over at Morgana. Ah, she was going to be a monster . He huffed but went to pick up the overdressed nine year old. It was made extra difficult by the 20 pounds of lace and tulle that she was draped in. Still, he could still pick her up and so he did “Puttin the bitch ta bed” He called down. He didn’t need to turn to see that Morgana had locked up at what he’d called his kid. She’d learn. “Probably best not to go up there for a bit” LaunchPad smirked. “Guns have a tendency to pop out during bedtime.” Morgana frowned and looked upstairs. What were the chances that This LaunchPad was joking? Hers was a joker at times. “Do you get your own water?” And her attention was dragged back to what had to be the strangest question she’d ever been asked. The other duck was leaning forward, mirth dancing in startlingly blue eyes. Morgana’s hands clenched again as she looked at this man. This was and wasn’t LaunchPad all in the same vein. It was disconcerting the clash in her mind between ‘This is LaunchPad and you’re safe’ versus ‘This is NegaDuck’s husband and so extremely dangerous.’ In the end her mind couldn’t stay actively worried when it was LaunchPad so she tested the waters to see how dissimilar they were. “I never would have guessed NegaDuck was married” She said instead. The only answer LaunchPad gave was a raise of a brow. There was a sort of stand off for a moment before he relented, relaxing his shoulders in a way that made it seem….not like he wouldn’t but less like he was going to launch across the table to snap her neck with the flex of an oversized arm. “Isn’t Darkwing married?” He asked, genuinely curious. He knew the answer by how her face went red and her back straightened. “Ah…..is he dating” Her face was bewildered, but quickly shifting to mildly offended pride. Dating her... “ Ah Okay. Just figured out something’s all.” His smile was amused now and that foreboding feeling caused the feathers on the back of her neck to perk up. “What” She asked carefully. “Did you figure out?” The dangerous man gave her a once over before thinking and letting out a dark chuckle.

“Maybe not figured it all the way out…..i think someone was trying to kill you” “WHAT”

“Or” He continued as if she hadn’t just screamed. “To get you out of the way.” He shrugged. He kinda wanted a camera for the look on her face. He’d look at it later when she wasn’t actively panicking. About half of his instinctive hatred to her was the fact that it was MORGANA. She came by once a month to try and steal his husband while threatening both himself and his daughter. The only reasons she wasn’t dead were A-he couldn’t figure out how to kill magic and B- an old associate was oddly Enchanted by her and wanted to date her if ever she stopped her obsessive campaign on a married man. He didn’t know much about this Morgana and while it didn’t take a lot to make him want to torture someone, it took something...something worse than her not wanting to eat admittedly horrible food. The look on her face was….shit. He didn’t like having a heart. And the lady was endearing herself simply by coming to help out with Gos….and he’d already tried to kill her over a misunderstanding. “What are you talking about!?” She demanded. And there were sparks again, the house lighting up and dying down in flashes as she affected the wiring. “Why would anyone be trying to kill me!?”

“You’re a powerful sorceress?” He ventured. That wasn’t the reason she was being targeted if his hunch was right. But it was a pretty good reason nonetheless of why someone would want her gone. Her face fell and the electricity faded from the air as she realized that he was right.

“Oh…..but who would be close enough to me to kill me? And how would they go about murdering…..well, me.” And that sounded like the Morgana he knew and hated. “I’m more than a bit durable.” That sounded less like the Morgana he knew and hated. Enough less to prompt an answer.

“Tap Water.” Her face morphed into one of confusion. “Metallic taste plus headache means your glass was spiked with trace amounts of bleach…..the glass I just handed you was spiked …..and you said ” He shrugged. “Did anyone in your dimension hand you tap water consistently? Call it bad pipes?” She stopped to think. The only person that got her something to drink….and she only took it because he was so nice….. “your LaunchPad get you tap water from bad pipes?” And by that face it hadn’t occurred to her. As confusion came onto her features he cut off the question. “That’s what I would do if you were dating Negs and we weren't married. Or I’m wrong...I’m just speaking from my own experience. Other me might not do the same.” But by the look on her face….. “I…..he was my friend ” Fuck. Yup.

“He probably wasn’t trying to kill you.” The other Duck admitted. “In trace amounts bleach just gives ya headaches.” He said it like it made things better. There was a rumbling sound and it was his only real warning before the raincloud started. Surprisingly, it didn’t turn the room into a monsoon. A small localized hailstorm over her head. Her fists were still clenched tightly and she was taking deep breaths. “You’re lying” She said coldly. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she was more upset with herself than him. “That’s impossible. LaunchPad is my…..” The storm got worse, now focused entirely on her side of the room. He idly debated internally on how much larger the storm could get before she started to damage the internal structure to the house. If it got too much bigger he’d throw a frying pan at her. She was way too far in her head to stop it and it would just knock her out, she seemed to be dealing with some shit. He sighed. “Look” And she was still hearing because she looked up at the word. But she was half frozen and he wasn’t good at comforting people. A LOT better than his husband but that wasn’t saying much. A slug could comfort people better that Negsy. “Ya still plannin on helpin with Gos?” The wind raged and an unused bulb popped, glass shattering on her side of the kitchen. To her credit, as destroyed as she looked, there wasn’t a second of hesitation.

“Well Obviously! She needed help NegaDuck said. I’m not leaving a child out in the cold. Nor am I subjecting her to being fed poison.” Her voice was haughty and proud and she was downright offended at the suggestion of leaving. Well damn. Definitely not this Morg “Then does it really matter right now?” She blinked at him. “Call this a….a well needed break . You’ve been on edge all night and while you’re probably different from this Morgana, you’ve gotta be more put together if Negs thought you could help Gossy. It’s not the issue right now. It’ll work itself out or it won’t. So calm down before ya break the house.” It probably only worked because she was distraught. Her fists clenched even more tightly before releasing. “A moment.” She looked around to what her natural power had done just lashing out as it was. Though she had magic, Math was used to guarantee specific outcomes. Otherwise you ended up with….She sighed and ran a few quick actual calculations, condensing the storm to her hand where she squashed it. “Sorry. Today has been….not very good. Counting the two rescheduled dates and the secret identity I seem to be the only one unknowing of…..this month hasn’t been very good.” She was trembling with the effort of keeping her magic contained. LaunchPad got up and turned to a cabinet, rifling around before.

“Here” And a tumbler of whisky was put in front of her. “Not poisoned this time.” She was looking at it distrustfully which…..was fair . He poured himself a glass as well. “Look your magic goes crazy when you’re upset so maybe talk about it before ya get stressed by the kid. And since I’m the only one here, unfortunately….”

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

Gosalyn was quickly changed into her preferred nightgown. Pink and with a skirt made of ruffles. She went from daytime dress up doll to night time Barbie and it was a truly sickening sight. But she had a habit of trying to make him gag when she was pissed off at him. She crawled into bed and pulled white lacy sheets up to her shoulders, turning from him in pure rage. That earned an eyebrow raise and a cruel chuckle as he grabbed his secret weapon. “As angry as ya wanna be. I got somthin ya need.” She lifted her little head and glared back at him...he waved the hairbrush at her mockingly. “Lil hint. When ya bluff, make sure your bases are covered.” “I can get Papa to do my hair.” She sniped. He nodded, she could….. “That means giving up a Daddy Daughter tradition since yer hair got washed that first time….You really wanna break tradition?” She didn’t like deviating from her patterns. It was a weird thing that he’d noticed about his kid and used to his advantage. Like the fact that she couldn’t sleep in an empty house and her obsession with ‘pretty’ that bled into the poor innocent room. As he suspected, she sat all the way up and turned away, arms crossed as she pouted. He took the permission for what it was and ambled over to the queen bed, climbing unto it behind the little princess of chaos. Deft fingers wiggled off the rubber band keeping her ringlets in place before he started to brush her hair out, far more gently than one may have thought him capable of. “Tomorrow you be nice to miss Morg kay. Maybe keep a babysitter for longer than an hour. Might be fun.” Gos, in true Gos fashion let out a sound halfway between an enraged shriek and a pitiful whine.

“She’s a selfish lying bitch.” Gos pouted. “She doesn’t even want to be here and she’s going to skip away the moment she’s not needed.” Negaduck snorted at that, making sure to twist his wrist with the grain of the hair so that any tangles wouldn’t cause the kid pain. “Why’d you even go get her? You missed out on Tank’s research.” “Fuck, ‘sonly been a day the lil Tesla’s got research already? I thought he’d just take in intake...vitals and shit.” She giggled brightly and while he didn’t mind the sound he wished she wouldn’t do it while he was brushing her hair. She would put spikes under his side of the bed if he miscounted and brushed less than 100 times. “He’s really happy with the specimen. Enough water caused full reconstitution and whatever keeps him alive is not the same thing keeping him stable. Tankie started working on looking at DNA to try and do a normal intake but nothing about him is normal. It’s no wonder you have such a hard time capturing him. Not only does every water drop have his DNA in it, but water that’s introduced to him shares it as well. Electroshock causes the new water to lose the connection until reintroduced but only causes a weakening in the bonds keeping his form stable.” Negaduck rolled his eyes, but considered the hair adequately brushed and so started to pull it into a tight braid. “Only you would pick a Poindexter as a bodyguard” He remarked as he started on the next pigtail.

“Minion Daddy. I need some brain to balance out my brute of a bodyguard.” He bit his beak from reminding his daughter that they were both bodyguards since she hadn’t officially notified Tank of his change in status, even though he’d had the promotion for almost six months now. She didn’t like change.

“Speakin ‘a bodyguards.” She froze. Oh boy, this would have to be handled with all the fineness of disarming a bomb. Something he wasn’t too used to doing since it was more fun to pull all the wires and send it off to doom some chumps at random.

“Honky-Tonks and Tankie do a great job on their own.” She spat out, bitter. “I wouldn’t of even got taken if it wasn’t for Dorkwing Dipstick. That fucker was the problem but he allowed my plan to be set in motion.” Fuck the bomb, this was a nuclear warhead and it was leaking radiation. Still… “I don’t need another bodyguard. I’ve got my two, Papa, and if you stayed around-” “If I stayed around you’d have a bigger target on your back and you know it.” There was a crash from downstairs, but he’d worry about it only if he heard a gun go off. “You know those idiot heros are tryin ta kill me. What better way then if they figure out I actually got a soft spot fer my kid? They’d catch you, drag me outta hidin, then put an end ta my villianny once and fer all. I know you’d avenge me but...I’m selfish. When my lil monster turns St. Canard to rubble I wanna be flippin the switch fer her and revelin in her twisted laugh.” She turned then, hugging him tightly. He returned it and motioned for her to get back into position so that he could start her second braid. “Miss Morg’s gonna look out fer ya when Papa and I can’t be around. If ya play yer cards right, she might even teach ya some spells.” “Miss Morgana hates me. She hates all normals. She certainly wouldn’t just ladida tell them the secrets of her ‘I have magic so I’m better than you’ power.” “Ah-Ha! You’re right. But that’s this Morgana. She’s a fuckin bitch. ‘Swhy I stole another Morgana. She’s the opposite of this one. Doesn’t hold her magic as close. If anyone can swindle some arcane secrets it’s you.” She pouted, but nodded.

“Lady’s a bitch and a liar. She said she wouldn’t let you leave and she sent you away in the next breath.” NegaDuck thought on that for a moment, whether it was best to correct her or not. But she wouldn’t want to hear that her new guard had other commitments that might succeed in getting her back. That would either make her try to kill the woman before she got attached or try to kill said commitments. While it would be funny to watch her try to kill DarkWing, it was ultimately far too dangerous for her to attempt to take on that LaunchPad. “Three hours.” He settled on, wrapping the braids together with a ribbon. He grabbed his blaster. “You wanna hear how I almost killed Dipshit Last…” Oh right, time had gotten messed up. “Time?” He asked. Gos yawned and snuggled up to him. “Aww, tired? I’ll go” He wiggled out from under her and tucked her in before turning to leave. Before he was even halfway to the door he heard the safety click off on the blaster he’d just produced. His shark teeth were on full display as he turned with a grin, both arms raised to the girl aiming at him. “Did I happen ta ferget somin?” He asked. The barrel glowed as she started to compress the trigger. His grin got wider as he waltzed back over. “Aight Alright. Gimmie that, you suck with the recoil.” And he plucked the gun from her and settled her back in to get retucked. It was with a few deep breaths to clear out his craggley voice. He could carry a tune, but his voice itself wasn’t much to write home. Still...he cozied up behind her and started to sing.

Rest your eyes, little girl pink

You live with Murdering Monsters it’s true

And tough we may maim, terrorize and destroy

This one spot is kept safe and pretty for you.

She’s tired, and sleeping by the time he finishes the short version of the lullaby. He reaches over and grabs a porcelain doll from the wall, one with a yellow dress falling like shooting stars and black hair in an elaborate bun. He maneuvers himself out of her grip and replaces the spot with the doll. She cuddles it and the thorns around his heart clench a bit more tightly at seeing the sight. He scoffs and leaves the room before he can get sappy. After all, he’d only be gone three hours tops.

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

Three days. Her house wasn’t that….well, it was that large and difficult to get lost in but it tended to pop out guests wherever their intention was. And she’d told him exactly where to go. Had he managed to get lost trying to find her secrets? Did he get trapped in the soul bag? He’d been joking about which bag to pick, but what if he honestly forgot which one it was. It shouldn’t have taken this much time. And she was doing what little she could with fake ingredients. She’d warded the house itself from anyone that had ill intent. Well, any normal. It wouldn’t stop the superheroes it was...flimsy at best. She’d seen the girl eyeing her ring and gave it to her with the claim that it matched her dress. The fact that it did was a happy coincidence. And she was watching to make sure Gosalyn was still wearing it.

That being said….since LaunchPad was out more often than not, she had a pretty good hint of just who was trying to kill her this time. At first they could be written off as cute little pranks. The first night NegaDuck didn’t come back, there were spikes in the bed that had been assigned. It was only after waking up with a pleasant realignment in her spine that she realized that for most people, that was probably uncomfortable. She’d accepted a cup of coffee from the sweet girl only for LaunchPad to snatch it away and toss it into a potted plant…..the plant withered and died. Then there was corrosive acid in the shampoo and luckily she dropped the bottle. The problem with any of these attempts was that….she was made of magic. Even if she was burned she’d have been fine in an hour. Even Bleach water. It affected her...she just healed a bit faster. Hmmm, maybe none of them realized that. That being said, it was amazing how creative little kids could get. Belladonna Berry cookies last night. “Miss Morgana” She resisted the urge to hex the adorable little monster. Gosalyn was holding up a glass of yellow liquid….. steaming yellow liquid. “Mrs. MuddleFoot made Lemonade. Do you want some? It’s oh so yummy!” Morgana took a deep breath. Why yes nursemaid, let her be Juliet, she’d happily down the poison. The thought caused a smile to pull at her lips. Any foolhardy Romeo for this child would be dead long before the impromptu wedding, she’d lure him to a trap for the fun of it. “That’s alright.” She smiled brightly at the girl. She wasn’t going to walk into that trap. And Gos pouted. Morgana very carefully ruffled her ringlets in a way that wouldn’t actually harm them. She’d have to dodge a subtle death threat then. LaunchPad had spent almost an hour curling it this morning. “How about a walk to the bakery. You said that’s where his old portal was.” That and she had a sneaking suspicion that the child had a fondness for the cookies there. Gosayln was still pouting. “If I let you poison me with….” Morgana looked skeptically at the ‘lemonade’ “Whatever Tank cooked up, then will you stop sulking and not try to kill me at dinner? Besides, your Papa’s cooking is going to try that anyway.” The little girls’ shoulders sagged, but she must have been really hopeful about this batch because she smiled and held it up. “Cheers.” The sorceress said with a mild wince. To Tank’s credit it did taste like Lemonade. Had it not been smoking or offered by a child that wanted her dead she may have actually brought it. Speaking of Tank, the scientist was peering out of his garage, the full chemistry set still running as his face fell. He snapped in disappointment and grabbed a notebook to recalculate some numbers. “Alright, lets go for a walk and get you some air.” Morgana ordered lightly. “I’ll get you extra cookies for the attempt.” She’d stopped taking being targeted personally when LaunchPad coughed up some spikes and half threated to make Gosalyn actually eat his cooking.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

Her head was pounding. Morgana felt something like static on the back of her throat. She rose slowly, willing the world to stop spinning. It wasn’t quite working. Someone shoved a glass of water into her hand. She identified it was water by the fact that it was wet and tasted like nothing and wasn’t making her dizzy like a drink would.

“According ta Tank, your powers should start coming back by now.” She chanced a look up to see LaunchPad...he looked terrible. He had a black eye and a busted beak and was leaning heavily on one side. “Hey do me next wouldya?” He gestured at her body and she looked down. Her dress was ripped and filthy and her body was covered in quickly healing bruises. LauchPad must have seen the confusion on her face. “It was an ambush. The Tired Three attacked, demanding to know where Drippy was. Bush Breath used a tree to make off with Gos and when I brought you back here Tank told me what his formula did.”

“It’s like the fuckers have a TRACE to know when to fuck shit up.” Morgana blinked. She was in the living room, draped over the couch. NegaDuck was also in the room, but angrily pacing in front of the T.V. cursing up a storm. Trace….OH! Right. “Don’t worry I’m wat….WHERE WERE YOU!!!” Her pain is momentarily forgotten as she establishes that this man was missing which was what caused Gosalyn to try and kill her in the first place. He at least had the decency to look ashamed for a moment. “Score I couldn’t pass up.” He indicated the bags of loot on the ground. She glared at him and through the corner of her eye was pleased to note that LauchPad had a similar expression. “I GOT THE BAG!” And he had the audacity to toss it at her. But a cursory glance confirmed that yes, this was the right bag. She placed it on her lap and felt for her magic. Whatever Tank had done, he’d muted it somehow. A regular enchantress would need another hour or two before they were up to speed…..luckily, she was a ‘McCawber’ She pulled herself to a sitting position and focused herself inward. A click here, a spring there….and she gave a great breath as the power flowed through her once more. It had been about five minutes of meditation. Five minutes were...a lot her apparently. The two men had already complied a list of where the girl may be and were working on ambush options. “I’m watching her.” Morgana said, raising herself from the couch and doing her mental math. “Shussh. I need to just pop over and grab her so my math has to be perfect.” As she said even that, her eyes turned white. LaunchPad and Negaduck glanced at each other, but both kept their beaks shut as a soft fog filled the room...on their side.

“I don’t know where he might be Mr Quacks and Jacks. I’m so so so sorry.” Gosalyn gave a teary eyed sniff. “If I did. I tell you!” QuakerJack looked for a moment into soft innocent green eyes, blown wide from the terror of her ordeal with Negaduck. No one knew who it was that the tyrant had gotten to travel with her this time, but the woman had at least gone down fairly easily. He sighed, knowing that they weren't going to get any information from NegaDuck’s captive.

“Okay sweetie. Can you at least tell me who pulled you from the lab angel?” Her eyes were teary. Uh oh. How many assets did her tormentor have? LaunchPad and the MuddleFoots were all accounted for. Before she could answer, her ring started glowing. She jumped away from the smoke so the three took the hint to try and get away as well, but it quickly filled the room, a massive stormcloud with a figure shrouded in the mists.

SHE IS MINE

As the words echoed and billowed they were accentuated with thunder and lightning.

The figure was as big or bigger than the mists, only seen in sections, an ice cold hand just barely grazing past, a blood red eye blinking from behind.

YOU PEONS ARE NOT TO TOUCH MINE

The lightning seemed to know not to get close to the only one that could use it. Instead, MegaVolt shivered beneath the gale force winds hurtling around icy rain.

OR I WILL COME AGAIN AND LEAVE NAUGHT BUT DEATH

The minor fog cleared in the room as Morgana’s eyes stopped glowing. But as the fog cleared it left something that hadn’t been there before….rather, some one. “How” LaunchPad started, seeing his daughter, unharmed but a little shaken “did you manage to” “I said not to worry. I’m watching her.” Morgana smirked. Then she sighed. Poisoned twice, lost her powers, charge kidnaped, nearly actually killed. “Though I think that’s enough excitement for today.” She shook her head. “I’m going upstairs to take a nice hot shower with non corrosive acid thank you very much.” There was some law of her life. There had to be. She barely even turned when she felt the minor ward snap like a too tight piana wire, an instant before the roof second floor was gone. What in the name of Magic

“OH Nega Darling! Your Better half has come to free you from the insignificant insects you call a spouse and daughter!!!!!!” Rather than surprise, the room was a chorus of groans.

“I could set my watch to this nut.” LauchPad murmured a split second before he was encased in a shimmering pink bubble, which shot into the sky. Gosalyn was given the same treatment. The woman that had called out floated over, dress whipping around her, all calm pastels-sky blue and soft gold. Her long white hair floated in a cloud around her, the color marred only by two black stripes. But her face was indistinguishably…..

“You have got to be kidding me” Morgana muttered, looking up at…. herself apparently.

#morgana macawber #nega launchpad #nega launchpad mcquack #nega gosalyn #gosalyn mcquack #NegaDuck #negadrakepad #Negaduck is a good dad #People are surprised #NegaGos is a monster #People are STILL surprised #Bad cooking #Bad guy doesn't mean Bad person #Bad person doesn't mean amoral #NegaDuck has crime related ADD

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greatshell-rider · 4 years

Text

16. wet, rotting leaves (sensory prompts)

Jerry paced cautiously around the tree, shortsword in one hand, buckler in the other. His headlamp provided a thin stream of orange light to illuminate the marshy waters that surrounded the tree’s island, and he swept his head back and forth to drive the headlight’s beam into the nearest shades. They skittered out of the way before the light could hit them, retreating from clawing at his trouser legs and the tree’s roots. Yet another group creeping closer forced Jerry to keep moving, allowing those behind him to return. Their claws slid through the wet, rotting leaves that caked the island with a distinct slurried-slop sound—small noises, but kin to thunder in this suffocated night.

The tree creaked worriedly, branches swaying as it leaned away from a shade that dared to swipe at a strip of moss on a low-hanging branch.

“Hey!” Jerry barked, slashing sword and beam of light alike at its skeletal form. It dodged the light, but blade met shadestuff with a sound like a bowl of jello slapped with all the gusto of an overly drunk uncle. Sparks of blue lightning zipped up the length of the shortsword, shocking Jerry’s fingers and nearly making him drop the blade in pain. The shade fared worse, however, its skin hissing and smoking where the edge had cut into it, and it let out a shriek shriller than wheels skidding on pavement as it flung itself off the tiny island into the shadows of the murky water. The splash it made was very loud in the sudden silence of its fellows.

Jerry swore softly, passing the shortsword to his other hand as he flexed his zapped fingers. “Sunmetal is highly conductive to shadestuff’s pent-up energy, apparently,” he muttered, holding his hand up to the headlamp to examine his fingernails, which were cracked all the way to the cuticles, the surrounding skin scorched black.

“Lani is not going to shut up about this,” he sighed, pressing his damaged hand to the trunk of the tree. He felt the tree strain, push, but nothing happened. Its branches waved sadly in apology, and Jerry gave its bark a pat before grabbing the shortsword’s hilt once more and swinging it low at the shades creeping close, warding them back. “It’s fine, friend,” he told the tree, giving up on pacing around the island’s perimeter and putting his back to the tree’s trunk. “I know your regeneration was running low. Selfish of me, really.”

He could almost imagine the tree’s response, in the whisper of its rustling leaves. Selfish? No . . . when acting in my defense? No . . . you are truly . . . a friend.

Jerry smiled, the orange light of the headlamp wavering as its battery ran low. “That’s a nice thought,” he murmured, planting his feet solidly in the carpet of moldy leaves as he braced himself for the shades’ final rush. They waited now, huddling just outside the narrow corridor of light, and once that small hallway collapsed, they would attack as one. The tree shuddered, roots and branches drawing in as shades brushed light claws along its bark. It pressed against Jerry, branches wrapping over him like a thousand sinewy arms woven around his shoulders in a cloak of leaves and spiderwebs.

The headlamp light stuttered again, blinking one last tattoo of despair. Jerry felt fangs on seams of his boots, tiny sharp points digging into the threads and beginning to pick and tear.

“A nice thought,” he whispered, settling buckler and sword defensively before him, “to act for someone else. To be . . . true.”

Like . . . one of your knights, the tree murmured. Or so Jerry could imagine.

The battery died, the orange beam of light disappearing. In a single intake of breath, the shades lunged forward—and Jerry, firmly stanced in mulch and wrapped in the leafy crown of the tree’s embrace, turned and drove his blade into the tree’s trunk right as the shades fell upon it, their claws and fangs ripping into the bark in starved frenzy.

The tree gasped, and that Jerry heard clearly. He fell to his knees, the entire island buckling as the tree reflexively clenched its roots in a fist of pain and shock, but gritted his teeth, twisting the shortsword deeper into the wood. Shades climbed up his body but didn’t attack him, instead running down his arms to claw madly at the cut he’d made, ripping chunks of the weakened bark away to expose the softer woods underneath.

What, the tree shook, agonized branches thrashing and beating at the shades, are you . . . doing?

Jerry grimaced as a branch slapped at the back of his head, ignoring the tree’s question as he dropped the buckler to grip the shortsword two-handed and, throwing his whole weight behind it, thrust the sunmetal blade to the tree’s very center, slicing past veins of corewood to pierce the heart itself.

Abruptly, the tree went still. Every branch, leaf, and root stood rigid and brittle.

My . . . knight? it whispered.

“Your friend,” Jerry confirmed in a growl, and with a twist of the sword, tore the tree’s heart free from its chamber and yanked it out into the air. He held it aloft, the ragged lump of wood dripping sap down the blade and onto his arm, and the shades chattered triumphantly, running an excited circle around him—some digging deeper into the gaping wound in the tree’s trunk to feast delightedly on the innards—before diving under the waters to go report to their master.

Once they were all gone, Jerry lowered the shortsword so the heart hovered an inch off the ground. Now that it was done, he was exhausted. His legs trembled from the effort of keeping him upright, his shoulders ached from the wrestle to reach the tree’s core, and his shadestuff-damaged hand stung nastily. Wearily, he looked at the tree, now slumped and stiff. When he touched a finger to a branch close to his head, the wood crumbled silently into papery splinters that piled at his feet.

“Such a magnificent being,” said a voice sympathetically behind him. “Especially to have survived the extinction of its species for so long.”

Jerry silently extended the impaled heart to his sister, rotating his hand so she could also see the jagged remains of his fingernails.

But Lani ignored it, walking past him—she was dripping wet from her swim—to crouch at the tree’s base and poke at the ragged hole Jerry’s sword had left. Already the husk was hollowing out, the tree decaying from inside out. “Pity, pity,” she mused, sliding a finger along the bark and rubbing the residue powder against her thumb. “Fascinating that it spoils so quickly, but it really does make it difficult to study.”

Jerry let out a quiet huff, which he quickly turned into a cough, but of course she caught it.

Lani rose, turning to him with her mouth twisted into a mocking smirk. “Something to say, O just knight?”

He scowled, pulling off the headlamp and tossing it to her. “You were right,” he said, to distract her from not answering. “Weird effects from both light and sunmetal.”

She caught the lamp, her eyes glittering in the dim moonlight. “Oh yes, I felt it on my side,” she said, still grinning the same knowing smile. She held up her right hand, waggling fingers bleached white and with strange build-up of what looked like chalk on the tips. “Even slight touches of the flashlight hurt something nasty, but the sunmetal? Woof!”

“Good,” Jerry grumbled, walking over to unzip the largest pocket of Lani’s backpack. “That’s what you get, after this dumb plan.”

She hummed happily, bouncing up and down on her toes but otherwise standing still while he rummaged through the pack. After a bit, he found a gallon-sized ziplock bag and opened it one-handed, stepping back to focus on scraping the heart against the side of the bag to make it fall off the shortsword.

“Dumb plan?” she laughed, taking out a bag of her own and scooping samples of dust, rotten leaves, and the few remaining scraps of actual wood into it. “Jerry, if I didn’t know better, I would say you’d developed feelings for this plant.” She kicked at a root.

“That was my job, wasn’t it?” he snapped, cursing as the heart brushed his fingers as it fell into the bag and the cursed wood made his skin suddenly turn red with angry rashes. He zipped the bag shut quickly and stuck his fingers in his mouth in a vain attempt to ease the pain. Great. Now both his hands hurt. “Earn its trust, make friends,” he mumbled around his fingers.

“And then stab it in the back,” Lani said, with relish. “Perfectly despicable. And it worked fantastically. So far at least.” She placed her samples in her backpack and walked up to Jerry, taking the bagged heart from him. She passed it from hand to hand, head tilted to the side as she smiled at him. “Actually, you technically stabbed it from the front, right? I could see a little bit through the shades’, well, not-eyes. I saw its little—” she waved her hands vaguely at her shoulders— “you know.” She placed her hands on her hips, leaning her head to the other side, the heart dangling in a loose grip. “That was rather sweet.”

Jerry huffed, taking his fingers out of his mouth and wiping away the saliva before sliding the shortsword into its sheath and walking over to pick up his buckler. “It was just another job,” he said. Inadvertently, his gaze fell on the tree’s corpse once again. Did a root just twitch? Was it . . . still alive? Could it . . . hear their words, as slowly, painfully, its consciousness faded away with the last of its withering wood? Could it feel Jerry’s presence, his weight, as he stood on a root? Did it know that he—

“Let’s get going,” he said, abruptly turning away, acutely aware of Lani’s amused stare. “Your shades are hardly the biggest baddest shadows in this swamp. And we’ve got that appointment to keep, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Lani said, falling in step with him as they left the island and began to slog through the waist-deep slurry of mud and water. She still held the bagged heart in hand, apparently choosing not to put it in her bag. “And it would be so rude of us to keep our employers waiting. Quite . . . unchivalrous. Almost like the betrayal of trust, or even a straight-up lie, oh my.”

“Like stabbing them through the heart,” Jerry muttered. “Yes, a tragedy.”

Thankfully, Lani fell quiet, though her smile won first place at a bullfrog’s band competition.

He was sorry, he thought, for it dying. The swamp was very dark with the moon setting and no stars shining. Jerry would have liked to have the headlamp’s light, small as it was.

If only to keep the shadows at bay.

#writing #my writing #Lani & Jerry #in which: jerry does a murder and lani makes fun of him for having emotions #this is twice the length of the last one aha #im not super satisfied with the last few lines. dunno if they properly convey what i wanted #but! i did write this at like two am so it may pass #and if you ask why i didn't just fix it during the editing process i say to you: shh

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kylosupremeimagines · 4 years

Text

Kylo Ren X Reader: Scars

Summary: Snoke believes that the reader has become a weakness for Kylo, and injures they in front of Kylo as a way to show his disapproval. Kylo is lead to believe that the reader is dead, and in a fit of rage, kills Snoke.

Song | Blog Master List

Warnings: Injury (dismemberment, impaling) Blood, Panic, Mention of/Present Abuse, Death

The Knight of Ren’s heart pounded against his chest as the air went cold; the mere presence of his master before him never ceased to shake him right down to the core. His dark eyes fell onto Snoke as the man towered over your limp figure sprawled out on the floor. “(Y/N) didn’t do anything wrong, Master,” Kylo tried to defend you, breathing out heavily in concern. “punish me, please. Let her go and I swear on the Force that I will obey your every command.”

Snoke scoffed in amusement at his apprentice, gaze flickering to Kylo. “She may not have done so willingly, but she has been distracting you from your training. You’ve been growing weak, young Ren,” he insisted. Pulling you up with the Force, he captured your throat in his gnarled hand. As he clamped down, you jolted awake in a panic with your airway closing. His icy blue orbs pierced into your gaze sharply. A sadistic smirk formed across his pale features

“She hasn’t distracted me!” Kylo defended. “don’t punish her for my mistakes! Do whatever you want to me. But Kriff, let her go! Stop!”

“Not that you can realize,” he retorted. Your hand wrapped around Snoke’s wrist, hoping to the Stars that he would loosen his grip to give you a moment to take in a breath. But no, he had no intention of giving you such a satisfaction. “perhaps just a little show will prove to you…”

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your skull as the pressure increased, leaving you no room for air. “I said stop!” Kylo’s voice boomed through the throne room. He ripped you from Snoke’s grasp and with ease, brought you over to him. “run,” he begged you in a whisper. Absolutely terrified him to see the already forming bruises around your neck.

“No…” you muttered to him in protest. Even if you were in fatal danger, nothing would keep you from Kylo so long as you were still alive and breathing.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

“He’ll just…” you tried to get out in a cough. “send people… after me-“ you continued before Snoke yanked Kylo away and slammed him against the tiled floor below. “no!”

“Insolent brat, if you think you can undermine me, you are mistaken!” Snoke declared in a bark. He forced Kylo to his knees as you watched, tears streaming down your cheeks. His Master looked over him, gaze like daggers. “you may believe that she is your strength, but that is far from the truth. She blinds you from your duties to the First Order. The Knights of Ren. To me!”

“You’re wrong, she’s the only thing that keeps me sane in all of this. She is my strength!” For ages, he was void of an anchor until he came to love you with all he could give you. However, he never confessed to you in fear of what Snoke would do to you. It was one thing to care about you, but if he knew about how Kylo felt about you? It would be the end of his galaxy.

“You believe wrong. Time and time again you fail before retreating back to her. In no way does she strengthen you!” Snoke spat out, extending his hand to capture you in the Force and pull you closer to him. “she will be no more!”

“No!” Kylo struggled against Snoke’s hold. “I won’t let you kriffing just her!”

“Is that so?” The smirk ceases the fade from the Supreme Leader’s deformed features. With ease, he yanked Kylo’s saber off of his belt and ignited the crimson blade. “because as far as I’m aware, you are not in the position to stop me,” with his piercing glare sharp on Kylo, he pulled you forward to let the blade impale you.

A scream erupted from your quivering lips as the lightsaber pierced through your organs, tearing them all in two. It felt like the fires of the Tatooine suns melted down into you. Snoke retracted the blade and threw the weapon to the side with little care. You were hurled across the room towards Kylo, stopping just before him.

“(Y/N)!” The raven haired man looked upon you in horror. A sharp pain met his abdomen where you were stabbed. With your connection, you felt one another’s pain, even emotions if you focused enough. To sense what you felt was excruciating to him and he wasn’t even the one injured. “I’m going to kill you!” He declared at his - former - Master.

“Try,” Snoke whispered to him in a mock. As Kylo brought his hands up, he slammed the monster against the floor and made sure that his head collided with the tiles. He forced his saber back to his hand, blade cracking to life and illuminating against his sweat riddled features. “you can’t beat me even if you try.”

Kylo didn’t wait for Snoke to rise before he raced at the man. As his master shot a bolt of Force lightning towards Kylo, he only blocked it with his weapons flawed blade. He struggled to push past, his racing heart and dread for your life driving him past his limits. Snoke has to die and he was going to make sure he did.

The purple streaks of lightning flew every which way, Kylo avoiding contact with it. As soon as he reached him, he sliced the blade up to swipe at his face. Swiftly, Snoke took control of the lightsaber with the Force to allow it to slice through Kylo’s left hand like warm butter. Her let out an excruciating cry as his hand crashed to the ground.

“You will never win, apprentice. Give out now and I may spare you immense cruelty.”

“I won’t summit... to you again!” Kylo took a few steps back to recompose himself.

“Then I will just send you to reconditioning. You will always be obedient to be whether you will it or not!” Snoke declared. He retracted the blade once more and examined the weapon closer. “I had expectations for you and your bloodline, but all that you’ve done is disappoint me over and over again. It’s about time that I fix you to my image. You will be my perfect little soldier.”

“I don’t have to be like my grandfather. I can always forge my own path…” Kylo muttered.. With his intact hand, he used the Force to ignite the saber as it was pointed towards Snoke’s chest, the blade piercing into his rib cage. Snoke’s light eyes widened as it was yanked out through his shoulder and fell back down to slice him in half.

As his body collapsed to the ground, Kylo could feel his very life essence slowly dissipating, fading out of existence. He breathed out heavily as his saber dropped with a metallic clank. Quickly, his attention shifted back to you. He raced over to you and fell to his knees by your side.

“(Y/N)...” he breathed out in a broken voice, lips trembling in a sob. Desperately, he looked over all your wounds. Kylo could sense your life force slowly draining from your form. But that the stars that it was even still there! “please, I need you…”

Reluctantly, he ripped open your tunic to get a better look at your wound. The skin around the whole was scorched, warm to the touch. This was all his fault. If only he had protected you, the love of his life, you wouldn’t be in this condition. He rested his hand in your wound, and desperately tried to tap into the Force in an effort to heal you.

He had never been too good at it, but stars he needed you to live. Your chest still rose and fell with your weak breaths which gave him hope. “Please. You can’t die on me…” Kylo sobbed. his hand went warm as he healed you, soon retracting it to take note that your wound had miraculously healed. But you weren’t waking up. “please, wake up!”

He picked you up in his arm, holding you close. As you were against his chest, your (E/C) eyes fluttered open. Your hand crept up his back to grip his tunic. “Kylo… is he dead?”

His eyes widened as he felt your hand on him, dropping you down to take a look at you to see for himself that you were alive. “Kriff… I thought that I was going to lose you…” a smile played at his feature in disbelief. “yes, he’s dead. He won’t hurt you again. I promise.”

With tears streaming from your eyes, you cupped his cheeks to pull him into a loving kiss. Despite being utterly taken aback, Kylo sunk right into the kiss as he felt your plush lips against his own. He kept you secure in your arms even after you parted from the kiss. “I love you…”

“I love you too,” the smile ceases to fade from his light features as he lifted you up and kept you in your arms bridal style. “I… I’m going to take you away. Far from here where we won’t be hurt again…” he whispered and kissed you softly on your cheek before making a run out of the throne room to make it to a private hangar. He had a personal ship that no one else had access to.

“What?”

“We’re escaping. I won’t let you die because of the Order…” he explained in a mutter. He never once thought that you’d die with his affiliations with the First Order; he had sworn to protect you so he wanted to believe he could do it. Soon, you made it to his shop, Kylo placing you down gently on the copilot’s chair. “I promise that we’re going to hide and make sure that they can’t find us.”

He cupped your cheek and gazed into your memorizing orbs, vowing to himself that he would make up for his mistakes. “They’ll track is…”

“No they won’t,” he insisted, kneeling down by the main controls. Ripping off the main paneling underneath and yanking out the tracker, he crashed it with the Force. “see? They can’t find us now,” Kylo showed you the shattered pieces before throwing them to the side. He plopped down in the pilot’s seat to start up the ship.

It roared to life as he unclamped the magnetic hold to the docking bay to allow for it to rise. He wasted no time letting it fly out of the hangar, setting the coordinates for uncharted space. While the ship entered hyperspace, he rotated the chair to face you. He reached over to wipe away the ears that stained your cheeks. “Why did you kill him for me?”

“I… I thought that I had lost you when he stabbed you. He had to pay for it, for everything that he’s ever done…” he breathed. For a moment, memories of abuse flooded his mind, but he snapped out of it as he felt your hand cup his cheek gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t feel like you have to apologize,” you insisted. Kylo has opened up plenty of times to let out all the emotions building up as a result of the abuse. So you knew exactly what was wrong. “I’m glad that you’re alright. Thank you so much for healing me.”

“I refused to let you die. I don’t know what I’d do if you died…” he choked beneath a sob as his head sunk down into your lap. Kylo took immense comfort as you ran a hand through his inky locks, leaning into your couch instinctively.

“Shh, it’s alright now. I’m here,” you kissed the top of his head. “just take a moment to breathe,” your free hand took his to squeeze it gently. You closed your eyes and rested your head against his back. “I’m not going to leave you. Not when I love you so much…”

#star wars #kylo ren #kylo ren headcanons #adam driver #kylo ren x reader #star wars headcanons #kylo ren reader inserts #star wars x reader #kylo ren imagines #star wars kylo ren

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