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zepskies · 9 months

Note

This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #being deans one exception #sam in love with deans girlfriend #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam and dean #angst #unrequited love #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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thisisourlovestory · 5 months

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Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.1k

Please bear in mind that this is my first fanfic. It will be multiple chapters but release dates are uncertain as I am fairly busy and also procrastination is my best friend. I am open to constructive criticism if you have any. Thanks and enjoy!

Prologue:

The moment President Snow said those words I froze. I couldn’t breathe. Because I could be going back in. Back into the arena. My breath came in short gasps and I leaned against the wall. When I finally gathered the courage to go out the others were already there, Annie, Finnick and Mags. Huddled together in the centre of victor's village, Annie’s face red with tears, Mags opening and closing her mouth in what could only be anger. And Finnick holding himself together, just barely but managing it, holding Annie tightly in his arms as if she was the only thing stopping him from breaking.

I stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden frame of my house, arms crossing my body. None of them noticed me, I was invisible to them. I was the victor they didn't need, I was just a pretty thing for the capitol to put on display every night. Most of the time I stayed away from victor's village and none of them ever made any attempt to get to know me, I guess I just faded into the background for them. It's not really their fault, they didn't expect me to survive my games, no one did, I was just another tiny thirteen year old in the 68th Hunger Games, no allies, no weapons, no food and no hope. Just a pair of worn ballet shoes and a small bag I had nicked to keep them in. I would have died in the bloodbath had a tribute from 10 not stepped in front of an axe meant for me. I remember the blood splattering across my face as he fell onto me, I had pushed him off, grabbed his bag and ran into the forest.

I barely managed to survive, the frozen wasteland was unforgiving, animals were scarce but there had at least been enough water. At the end of the first day there had been eight cannons, the second three, the third five, the fourth two, the fifth another two. There were four of us left, the others all career tributes who had plentiful supplies and an alliance. I was able to hide from them for five more days before they had found me. Their leader, Arion from district 2, had shot me in the arm as I tried to get away, I fell and my blood painted the crystal white snow red. They weren't smart now that I think about it, they wanted to play with me; that was their mistake. I killed the girl first, hit her over the head with my ballet shoes, the hard box disorienting her long enough for me to slit her throat with her own knife, the cannon sounded and I killed her district partner as well, piercing his heart with the same knife. That had only left Arion.

I avoided him for a few days but he found me again, probably following the trail of blood I left behind. Except this time I was ready for him. I struck first, flinging my shoes through the air, hitting him on the temple, a trickle of blood falling from the cut formed. He reacted quicker than I expected, swinging his sword wildly, but I was small and fast- like a little bird my mother always said- I threw the knife in a practised motion, letting go of the handle, spinning it slightly, my hand following the line as it hit him dead centre in the chest. He had stared at me. In shock and disbelief that I'd been able to best him. The final cannon went off and I had won. I was the victor of the 68th annual Hunger Games.

For a while it was okay, chauffeured around, fussed over and doted on by my stylists, I was living the dream of every child. But it got old, I became used to people cooing over me, patting my hair, asking me questions. And then I discovered that even if you get out of the arena, you never truly win, you always have to give back something of yourself, a repayment of sorts. You get to live and we get you was how it sounded when President Snow made me the offer. Except it wasn't an offer, it was an order; that's how I found myself as a Capitol slave at the age of fourteen, performing night and day for the rich, barely getting a second's rest. Dancing until my toes bled through my shoes, smearing red across the delicate satin. Singing until my throat was raw and I coughed up the same red my shoes now were.

The only person who ever offered me some comfort was Finnick. About a month after my games had ended I started having nightmares, I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and he would hear me and come over to make sure I was okay. We formed a kind of friendship, me thirteen and traumatised, him seventeen and still carrying on. He would fall asleep watching over me, reassuring me that I was okay, I got out. We fell into a routine and by the time I was fifteen the nightmares were a rare occurrence. Then Annie won and it all changed. She became the priority for him, the priority for everyone, she had been broken in the arena and her mind never seemed to fully return to her. I thought he would come back to me, but as I woke up screaming one night and there was nobody there to hold me while I cried, as another scream pierced the air; a door slammed open and I saw Finnick running across to Annie's house, I knew I had lost him. I had lost the one person who I had loved and who truly seemed to care about me.

I watched them grow closer to each other. He built her up again brick by brick, unknowingly tearing me apart again piece by piece until I was nothing but an empty shell. He stopped her nightmares, whispering soothing words to her as I tossed and turned, eventually I would wake up, sweating and screaming, eyes wide and frantic as I clutched the knife I kept by my bedside. But no one ever came. I couldn’t blame Annie, she was the kindest person I knew and it wasn't her fault Finnick loved her, it wasn't her fault he didn't love me.

So I dealt with it. I swallowed the pain that welled up in me and buried every thought I had ever had about him deep in my memory, never to see the light of day again. And it worked, I got on with life, going about my daily routine, dancing, singing, eating, sleeping, then doing it all again. I attended parties in the Capitol, laughing and smiling at people, agreeing with their every word. I wasn't happy, but I didn't need to be, I just needed to be alive.

So that was how I found myself after the announcement of the Quarter Quell, watching Mags, Annie and Finnick from the sidelines. My face blank as they comforted each other, not sparing me a second glance. They had all but forgotten I existed. I waited for them to go inside before I ran out of the large gates separating us from the rest of District 4. I ran along the cliffs, wind whipping my hair into a tangled mess. I reached the edge and stood still, staring out at the roiling ocean, grey waves crashing against the shoreline, foam spraying the cliff face. My heart was pounding in my ears, drowning out the sound of the sea. The air grew cold around me as my chest constricted and I gasped for breath. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

Tears poured down my face as I sank to my knees and cried. Guttural sobs tearing from my throat, my chest heaving with each one as I clutched the grass beneath me. Fingers digging into the wet soil, clenching and unclenching in time with the beating of my heart as I tried to ground myself. Gradually, my heart slowed and I pulled my hands out of the ground. I breathed shakily, dirt trapped under my nails as I scratched at the skin on my wrist. I lifted it up so I could see the mark laying there. Stark black against pale skin. Forever inked on my body. A trident and a flower, interwoven with each other.

It was a soulmark. It appeared when I turned 17, as they did for every other person. The person with the same mark is my soulmate, they could be anyone. But I already know who it is even if he doesn't. I saw it one night and then when I got mine I knew immediately but by that point it was already too late. He was already in love with Annie. I stared at it, it wasn't very noticeable, easy to hide from people; pretty as well I suppose, then again they say it's the most beautiful things that are the most dangerous. And this mark, this tiny little mark held the power to destroy me if the wrong person so much as caught a glance of it. I let out a soft laugh, how pointless it all seemed now that everything I had could be taken from me again. I had worked so hard to build up this facade, pretending everything was fine and with a few words it had all come crashing down.

I shook my head and stood up, giving a last look to the sea as I turned and walked back the way I had come. People talking about the announcement anywhere I pass, I paid them no mind, holding my head high as my feet hit the cobblestones with sharp thwacks.

“Who do you think will be reaped?”

“It's such a shame really.”

“We only have three victors anyway.”

I ignored them all, they pretended I didn't exist and I'd do the same for them, it's not as if they cared. I finally reached the small gathering of houses the victors lived in and stood outside the gate. The metal tarnished from years of standing in the elements, wooden stakes seeming to wilt under my heavy gaze. I reached out a shaky hand and pushed the metal forwards, opening it only slightly so I could slip in without making the usual clanging sound. I slowly walked towards the fountain in the centre of the square and sat down on the edge, trailing my fingers in the water as my gaze focused on the centrepiece. A mermaid, carved from marble, her hair flowing in the current, tail curving up to the sky, each scale distinguishable. A steely expression was painted on her face, that of a commander, a leader. An odd message from the Capitol, to show the mermaid as being powerful, to show us as powerful, and yet hidden in the water below the statue, in the basin of the fountain, laid a golden net. A message that we had won, but we would always be theirs and we could never escape.

My hand ran through my hair as I hummed quietly to myself, my other hand drifting along the water as I sat cross legged on the edge of the fountain. My eyes wandered across to Mags’ house where they had all decided to go. They were talking amongst themselves, Mags placing a reassuring hand on Finnick's shoulder and him muttering calming words to Annie. I felt sick, all the feelings I had locked away bubbled back to the surface because why could it not be me? Why was it her? What had I done wrong? My eyes watered slightly as I tried to hold back tears at the sight of them being so sickeningly perfect for one another. Not that it should've been me in his arms but it would be nice to know someone cared enough to check up on me, help me through the hard moments in life. Once upon a time I had thought he was that person and look where that got me, in deeper pain than I had been before.

I sighed deeply, taking in lungfuls of fresh air, and started up the steps to my house, the front porch, a few small plants in ornate pots, wisteria growing up the trellis, light purple blooms adding a little something to the otherwise grey picture. I took a last look at them across the square, smiles on their faces as if they had forgotten the news we received earlier. I guess that's what happens when you have people you can talk to, who understand and try to help. I twisted the doorknob, stepping inside, closing the door behind me, leaning against it for support. I didn't notice the eyes that watched me. Or maybe I just didn't want to.

#finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x reader #angst #the hunger games #catching fire #fanfic #finnick odair x you #thg x reader #thg series #implied Finnick x Annie

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trilobi-te · 9 months

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Serval Cider. Cider being more or less canonically a furry is my favorite unnecessary plot detail in Chipspeech. I am a furry and I like to think about what different characters' fursonas might be and now I have been given an actual reason to do so.. yippee. I've been looking around to see if other people have made potential Cider fursonas and I found one on twitter from almost four years ago (it is a mouse/rat). Someone tell me if there are any others (or even any ideas floating around) because I am curious.

Furry time below the cut :3

Interestingly enough I had a decently hard time trying to figure out what Cider's fursona might be. This is probably because of my affinity for anthropomorphizations of weird creatures, which don't tend to frequently show up as fursonas (arise my Cambrian brethren). I have not ruled out the possibility of Cider being a weird creature but I could not think of one that fit him well enough. I went with a serval because he honestly kind of looks like one? I do not mean this in a bad way, I really like servals (same kind of cat as Sogga). He just has that vibe. Also he canonically likes cats so I don't think he'd object to it.

Now it's time for me to be boring. The reason I am such a fan of Cider being a furry is (predictably) the whole idea that furries run the tech industry. Afaik the evidence to back up this claim is almost entirely anecdotal, though that one survey from Furscience in 2011 said that around a quarter of all furries surveyed have a degree in tech (plus another ~quarter in other STEM fields) so there's at least one statistic out there. (Generally speaking the Furscience survey is pretty interesting to read through if you're interested in both statistics and anthro animals.) Honestly though the anecdotes seem to be enough to prove that, at the very least, a sizeable percentage of important individuals in tech that are furries given how prevalent they are. In short out of all of the fictional characters I know of the funniest one to make a furry is Cider. A fair amount of furry fandom history is also pretty Cider-adjacent. The way everything lines up is so nice. Fiction does not have to adhere to real world logic but I find it so much more fun when it does. My mind looks like one of those conspiracy boards with all the string connecting different scientific studies and Wikipedia articles I've read to the funni little blorbos. This is definitely normal I promise.

Behold some furry Cider tweets because they are funni (plus him saying he likes cats, that clyp was deleted but it can be inferred). "I was a scientist, last I checked ;)" lmao

Oughh I cannot draw in That Furry Style so I have broken out the chibi(?) style I rarely use because it fits the subject material (furries) better than my normal one? I'm so glad his eyes aren't visible because I can't draw eyes that match this style. The only character I regularly draw in this style is my own fursona but they don't count because their eyes are oversimplified to make up for all of the cephalon details that need outlines. I say this as if anyone knows what I'm talking about. Things I should practice but never do. Oh well. Also the headphones are placed relative to the ear canal at the base of the outer ear. I put them as high up as seemed realistically wearable. And look at the little apple it has ears. Kitty apple :3

Is this entire post going to read like word salad to everyone except me. Hopefully not. I really hope.

#TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK CIDER'S FURSONA IS >:3 #bonus points if it's a weird creature hehehehehe #the idea of a character that is canonically a furry (without any plot relevance) is just so funny to me in general #anyways imagine part of the reason Otto dislikes cats is because he somehow found out about Cider's feline fursona.. would be funni #canonically it's because cats are hard to control but I'm just thinking about him finding Cider in a fursuit and going “oh wtf”#chipspeech #cidertalk'84 #cidertalk84 #furry #furry art #posts by the bug

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simpingwriter · 1 year

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Cal Kestis x Kyra Yarmot

'Revenge and Redemption:

In the Name of Love'

Pt.2

___________________

Heyyy, Happy May the Fourth to everyone reading this chapter today!

And yeahhhh... I know I said I would take it a bit slower with the second book. But tbh...with me, that's a good sign if i don't. Means I still like writing for these two braincells in a left over Styrofoam Cup – constantly bumping into each other, their only viable source of useable thoughts – and probably won't lose interest (please, great Gods of writer's block, have mercy with me boasting, i love my two fucked up dumbasses! 😭)

P.s: Totally not already a good quarter into Chapter 3...

Kyra meets the Grand Inquisitor for her Initiation. And ofc she immediately wants to fist fight and question authority once more–

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.200 Words

___________________

When the next morning came, something you finally could be sure of again with being on a Planet – well, a moon – and not a stupid ship, Cal was there before Dr. Puloria, eyes starting to shine even brighter then they were already when he finally saw you looking back at him this time.

Four weeks of looking at your motionless, dead-like body, wondering if you would actually wake back up someday…you didn't want to imagine the loop of thoughts the poor boy went through each and every morning with no significant changes being reported by Dr. Puloria or the nurses that took care of you, except that your lacerations from the fall were at least healing.

The Doctor had arrived only a few minutes later, grimacing when she saw the time…did you really sleep for that long?

One could possibly be stupid enough to think that after a four week long karking coma you wouldn't need sleep for a good ass while, that you would wake up more rested than ever. But it was the entire opposite, waking up you felt like you just pulled an all nighter and then some. So it didn't surprise Cal at all when – without any warning from your side – you fell asleep on his explanation the Fort and the work that came from being an Inquisitor now, his voice the most calming thing to your ears after being surrounded by nothing but deafening silence.

He knew that you would listen to him rant any day, but yesterday was just...way too much for you. And once you had everything important of today behind you, you would probably fall asleep right on him again, but he wouldn't mind, especially if you literally fell asleep on him, he always wanted to know what it was like sharing a big bed with someone. His was so cold and empty...

He wouldn't mind even if you fell asleep during him talking about whatever came to mind for another whole week, because now could be sure he would see you again, day for day, week for week, no urgency pushing him to make the most of every second he had left with you…

The first thing Dr. Puloria did, as promised, was cut the thick layers of gauze off of your squeezed in wing. While it at least wasn't cold around it, something you hated – cold wings – it was very uncomfortable. Which became evident when the gauze was finally fully off, revealing a severely crinkled and depressed wing. Like freshly hatched…

"You can move it, don't worry about having to keep it that crumbled up, just be very careful and do not under any circumstance overstretch the membrane for at least another two weeks. The medical soldering is right about here…"

To say it felt odd having someone else touch your wings than yourself was a plain understatement, but Cal had touched them before as well and it didn't feel so...intrusive, even before you officially began to share an emotional bond. You remember the day when you first let him feel the leathery membranes between the flexible yet hard wing bones, his touch feather light and anxious even though you told him multiple times that his human fingers wouldn't be able to harm them really that much.

Even then his touches already had a weirdly soothing effect on you, especially after your returning nightmares and night terrors…

Was this maybe foreshadowing your eventual bonding?

"Also, after your initiation hearing today is finished and you managed to settle in on the Base, I would really appreciate it if you could find the time to listen to a request of mine, but only if you're alright with that." The older woman threw hastily into the room as she looked for the holopad that held the release forms with your name prewritten on them. What request could she possibly mean?

"I think she means these Research Papers I had to interrupt her about yesterday. She was barely able to contain herself while she had to take your body's measurements for your own uniforms…" Cal sounded incredibly odd at the last sentence, partially swallowing some words he wished to say but then decided not to as he looked at the Doctor with an unreadable expression.

Did he not like seeing her touching you?

"I don't." Cal grumbles quietly, having become much more direct since the last time you really talked – that being on the Mantis after your eventful day on Tatooine – you had to realize as the woman you talked about got slightly but noticeably red at herself being mentioned, "I-I was given the direct Orders to take the measurements of your wings, tail and your feet as they very obviously deviate from the average measurements of any other Imperial Inquisitor." She stated in a rather matter of fact manner, but either way not managing all of it without a stutter at the beginning, clearing up at least some of it.

What it didn't clear up was her excitement, apparent request and the connection to the research papers though. So basically nothing...what a waste of time.

"What is your request then?"

She stops looking for the paper a moment, looking over her shoulder with an expression you could only sort as "embarrassed yet determined".

"Because I want to finish the medical research for the Kaluk, the work of my master and his colleagues…"

The…Kaluk?

All your life, in all these pages and books you read about your kind, your own species…not once had the name Kaluk even been mentioned. So why was she calling you that name?

"Kaluk? I never heard that name for my kind." "Because it was wiped from all history books that have been written recently…that would mean the entirety of the last 30 to 40 cycles. All older ones are either destroyed or in the Empire's care." They even wiped the real name of your people off the face of the Galaxy…they really took everything from them. From you. From everyone that once, a long time ago, listened to that name. It sounded nice...you wish you had known about it earlier.

"Why would they do such a thing?!" You ask back irritated, not at her obviously, but at the Republic once more, further deepening your new found hate for them. They really deserved what came upon them…

"Well, some Scholars, of the Sith of course in that case, came to a very simple yet awful conclusion about that: The conventional approach of naming certain things or a species made them look more...approachable, in the case of the Kaluk, actual living, breathing and intelligent sentient people, taking away their name also took away relatability, the human aspect you and your ancestors all show, some more and some less. That method turned them into mysterious and extinct creatures…"

She even knew about the different sub categories of your ki- the Kaluk…how broad were the research papers of these scholars? Were there only the medical papers left or was there even more to be read about…things you had never heard about yourself?

There must be so many things about you yourself you had never been made aware of, maybe because they didn't want you to know or even because they themselves – despite their huge resource pool available just for research projects alone – never went that deep into your actual Culture themselves. They only saw the profits to be gained on Rhothant and in the Kaluk…

Dr. Puloria stopped the conversation of that subject at that for now, seeing the same problem as Cal when you yourself went to grab his left hand to calm back down, feeling your body begin to tremble. He didn't waste any time to give you exactly what you needed, gently drawing messy circles across the rough skin and scales. It would take ages for you to find peace in this subject as well, maybe you'd even carry this deep dug grudge to your equally deep grave.

"I shouldn't have brought it up right now, my most sincere apologies. I-I...no- Here, please sign these and you're free to go until the next planned check up…"

It was evident in her rushed words that your sudden change of mood at that piece of information made her feel uncomfortable, but mostly regretful. She knew the extinction of your kind must've been hard, though how should she have known that it troubled you that badly? Nodding at her nearly fumbled statement for the form, you take the holopad from her hands, immediately sensing the slight tremor in them.

Fear.

Now you could also faintly smell it...

She was afraid you would lash out from your increasingly bad mood.

"I'm not mad at you, Doctor." You simply state while signing with your last name, returning the holopad onto her cluttered desk when she didn't react at your attempt of giving it back to her. Your response probably startled her just a bit too much.

Cal's impatient pulling of your hand that had already been in his made it clear though that you had no time to idle your time, for example with making sure you didn't give her the same prey-like fear Greez once upon a time felt near you. Not that you knew of Humans ever having had actual problems regarding your pheromones distinctive to predators.

If anything, Humans were incredibly underdeveloped when it was about scents and pheromones of other species or even their own! They sometimes vaguely noticed them, but never in the obvious way, they were controlled by them subtly, without them ever truly realizing that it was Pheromones that made them act like this or like that.

And then there is Cal. You didn't know if he also didn't directly notices the pheromones…but it was obvious on him, though maybe only for you as his mate? To you, he was visible even with your eyes closed, he pretty was unmistakable to your sensitive smell with this almost overpowering sweetness and near aromatic waves of male pheromones coming from every pore. No cologne could challenge what he smelled like to you...like your personal heaven.

You loved the way they enveloped your senses, just like his hugs. They gave you this feeling of safety you never had before. And everytime you lost this feeling for too long, you already felt the madness and fear reaching their claws into your mind.

"I love you, Cal…" the words left your lips unexpectedly as he guided you down the halls of the new base, your new…home. It stopped him from his quick and wide steps, his golden eyes watching yours – and the emotions hidden within – closely as his mouth hung open ever so slightly before turning into an inviting smile, his left arm wrapped even tighter around your waist now. "I love you too, Dragonfly and always will." He sealed his renewed confession with a long kiss, lips burning up against yours before he parts from you once more with a heavy sigh.

Right…you're both wasting time with your sentimental needs right now. And you would have enough time later on for all kinds of loving or intimate gestures, especially for all the times you missed out on that possibility with your unfortunate time-out.

"Don't worry, I am certain he will make the initiation quick. The Grand Inquisitor has been very busy in the last few days from what I have heard. After that, you will be given a room and you'll have some time to…let everything sink in. I know that I needed it, despite me having been prepared for everything…in the end i was grateful for the buffering time you're getting." He shook you two's interaction off for the sake of not becoming late – despite it being almost painful to disappoint both of you – going down a vague list of what would happen today, not once letting go of your side as you walked further, at least wanting to give you his physical touch as he knew thanks to your thoughtsthat you yearned for it badly. No more hiding…it almost made you want to jump at him instead of just kissing him.

After ten minutes of similar looking dark corridors and bridges – "You're gonna have to grow used to that..." – you stand in front of two impressive double doors. Not ceiling high but quite obviously different from the rest, letting it be known that behind these doors, something important lies. They made him restless though, his black and red gloves fixing his grip on your waist every few seconds before he finally got a grip on the situation and made both of your presences known by knocking loudly.

What gave him the reason to act so off?

"What might come…that's what." He answered as quiet as a whisper as the doors slid open with a hiss, granting the two of you access. The room was more like a hall. A throne room, but more useful, like of a military commander in the end. And for the first time in your life you were in the same room as eleven…twelve…alive Inquisitors. All breathing and staring you down quietly as they awaited their master to speak…

The Grand Inquisitor.

You had heard very few things of the Pau'an himself, unlike the many tales of people encountering Inquisitors – plus your own – had but you were always been aware that he apparently existed, commanding those below him.

And now, he also sat while the others stood, on a big chair towards the far back of the middle. While the others were just staring at you, he tried to probe you with his gaze, you felt his attempts at going even further but blocked any of them with ease. From his perspective, it was probably just Cal and maybe – if you're lucky – Trilla who talked about your desire to join. The others either didn't know you or if they did…well, they would only see the Jedi Scum in you. Nothing else.

The only thing that held them back from trying to decapitate you was that they most likely have been informed about an "Initiation" today. That there was a Jed- Force Sensitive on Nur that switched sides.

You didn't even want to call yourself Jedi anymore, feeling grimy about that name and their religion after you heard what they helped the Republic with, even with their whole peace keeling agenda. All for some Kyber Crystals they couldn't even use like regular ones…the Crystals choose their Owner, never other way.

"Greeting, Grand Inquisitor!" Cal shouts loud enough to reach the ears of the grey older man, relief washing over him as you caught onto his body movements without his help and kneeled down alongside him. Praise the Connection you two had, once again.

"I brought you the girl who renounced her loyalty to the Jedi four weeks ago." He sounded pragmatic and logical in his choosing of words, a total difference to your Cal that usually lets his heart talk. You had known that he most likely had been put under special physical training to become an Inquisitor, but you didn't expect this of everything possible.

"Very well, Eleventh Brother, join the others."

What? You're supposed to talk for yourself? Alone, in front of them all!? Well that isn't going to end well, you can't control your mouth like Cal now apparently!

Cal, while he definitely heard your panicked thoughts, the begs for him to stay with you, couldn't stay any second longer than needed, giving you one last reassuring nod and squeeze on your shoulder before he did as he was told, standing back up and finding himself next to Trilla, who was wearing her helmet – making reading her emotions difficult...but not impossible if needed.

But she was probably going to be indifferent to whatever happened to you, your potential death due to your big mouth wouldn't mean the end of her world.

Not that you would let yourself get killed that easily. If needed, you would fight them all to the ground and they would learn that sooner or later. At least once they also pulled you into physical training.

"Rise, Kyra Yarmot." You did, straightening your back on instinct, wincing at your neck brace protesting and pushing against said sensitive neck. But you had to come through with this, this is all it took to be at Cal's side. All it took…

"How come that we get two Jedis renouncing their loyalty in such a short span of time? Nonetheless two that very evidently know each other better?" Oh that sounds…like an accusation.

Accusations never end well.

Okay, it's easy, Kyra, just tell them exactly what moved your decision, you have absolutely no reason to lie or to make things up, you got your reasons! "I found out about the Republic's dishonorable and dishonest deeds on Rhothant. I have been lied to all my life and…I…I can't no longer serve under their name, especially not the Jedi." He slowly nodded at your own explanation of the last events, before noticing something on your face it seems, just like Cere before him. It made him squint, deviating from his stiff posture when his head tilted in confusion. Unlike Cere, it did not anger him. It merely seemed to further fuel his intrigue.

"How come your exceptionally quick change of heart? Explain…"

Didn't you just tell him that, was this grey pebble hard of hearing? Deaf perhaps? You didn't want to talk anymore about it than needed!

What are you supposed to explain?! How they killed them by letting them work to total exhaustion? Abused them? Let everything important about their whole existence that made them who they were just vanish like that or how they lied to you about this For. All. These. Years?!

They bathed themselves in innocence while your people DIED for their insufferable greed!

'Kyra! Please! Calm down!'

Cal's thoughts passed you for a second, breaking the spell you put on your own mind as you heard yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud it seems, your voice not sounding like your own as you sounded more like a beast growling its threats than anything else.

But that reaction…it further looked like it pleased the Grand Inquisitor, as he intently watched your…eyes?

While your still injured body had to work with the sudden spur of buried emotions shooting back up, chest heaving and hot steam puffing out from your mouth with every heavy breath you took, the other Inquisitors' stares…changed. Even with their helmets on, you could feel them on you still yet not as harsh as before.

"Anger festers inside of you…but unlike with others, while your body doesn't fight it, it also can't take full influence over your actions, nor does it have a big effect on your appearance. Very interesting…so the old knowledge of the Kaluk hasn't been lying…"

Old knowledge? Does he also speak of research papers?

You're not given any time to think about his words as two Purge Troopers walked to your side, grabbing your upper arms tightly. Did they not know what kind of danger they just got themselves into just by approaching you? In this state of yours?

"Shall we bring her to the chamber now, Grand Inquisitor?"

C-chamber? They must be speaking of…n-no! No! You're not letting them scramble and rewire your brain, you're working and thinking perfectly fine! You're here on your own free will and haven't been captured!

Cal's eyes widened as he gasped in shock, but he knew too well that he wasn't allowed to intercept the Troopers either as they tried to drag you away from your current spot in the massive hall. His inner pain was deafening to you like a visible scream, he didn't know why this was happening either.

Putting emphasis on the word 'tried', the Purge Troopers struggling hopelessly as you used your still naked feet to your advantage, their sharp digging into the metal floor with worrying ease. It wasn't hard to escape their grasps fully a few seconds later, the sudden snapping back of your neck drawing an angry, deep shriek from your lips as you glared at them, silently daring them to try it a second time, opening your curled hands to show off your claws as a warning. "Kyra Yarmot, are you having second feelings now, of all times? Because I am sure the Inquisitors can help…choose…for you."

Like hell you were having second feelings, you're here on your own free will, you're not going to let them ruin your freedom like this, not when you're in arms length! You're not going to become mindless puppet, you're a soldier with thoughts, just like your ancestors were! They wouldn't want anything else from their possibly last surviving genes...

"Don't even think a second time about strapping me to your awful torture chair, if you have second thoughts about my loyalty, I will do the needed things to prove myself on other ways!" Otherwise you would give them a taste of what you're capable of!

Once more, you feel it surging inside of you, flowing like a violent network of rivers…your physical wounds exhausted you too much to have a tight enough control over your Connection to the Force. If they edged you on any longer…

You saw the sparks slowly starting to form and the heavy smoke weaving around you in the air, a sure sign for yourself to calm back down…Cal was in this room, he would die alongside them if you weren't able to hold on.

And the Grand Inquisitor had to have been feeling it too, grunting...pleased, "Troopers! Stand aside immediately! Do. NOT. Touch. Her!"

You could've electrocuted their equipment with a simple touch, in turn roasting them inside their armored black shells. How did he know about that…

"This was a test, you can relax…Twelfth Sister."

Then, a laugh. Not a kind or heart warming one, a sinister one, like a madman that achieved his plan. When the caught him self shortly after, the Troopers walking back to their positions at the door and the Inquisitors all relaxed once more, multiple already having had their hands ready to ignite their weapons, he began to speak once more...

A TEST?! Even Jedi school had less shitty tests than this one, you could've blown everything up if he would've let them go on like this without knowing your limits!

But wait…did he just call you Twelfth Sister?

"That means you passed. You're no use to the Empire without your species' naturally strong connection to the Dark side and your own raw emotions. No synthetic emotion could challenge whatever it is that is fueling your strengths deep inside…though you two's existence could potentially be breaking an ages old Rule…"

He mentioned Cal, which made you look for him on reflex. Panic wanted to light up in your head when he was no longer next to Trilla, never mind her, she was no longer there either!

"I hope you're more willing to gather your bearings at their sides? We already had to fix the Hull once because of…someone…almost over half a cycle ago." There would've more than a karking hole, old man. There can be no hole if there is no longer a foundation for said hole!

Has nobody ever told him to keep his hands off the stove as a child, to not play with fire?

"It's okay, Kyra, you're alright…nobody is getting reconditioned today…well, of those in this room at least." He hushed your thoughts, carefully beginning to inch closer with each gentle touch on your skin as he wasn't wearing armor filled with electrical equipment, hoping he could leave this room as soon as possible. He didn't like it's atmosphere at all, especially with a literal time bomb like you right in the middle of it...

But there was one more thing you needed to tell the irritating pebble of a man back there, calmed down yet or not.

"In that case, I got my first request, Grand Inquisitor."

"Voice it then, Twelfth Sister, but make it quick."

Well, they couldn't say much more than no, so you should ask no rather than later.

"I wish to share my rooms with the Eleventh Brother..."

Deafening silence…

___________________

#star wars fallen order #cal kestis #cal kestis x oc #fallen order cal kestis #star wars cal kestis #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #cal kestis fanfic #inquisitor cal kestis x oc #inquisitor cal kestis #so many tags #i need a template for them all-#fallen order fanfic #star wars x oc #oc fanfiction

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himbodiaz · 3 years

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Watch Me Fall Apart (And I'll Be Yours to Keep)

1856 words. After a tough rescue, both Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital.

title from only love by ben howard. i wrote most of this in one sitting with no beta so just *gestures vaguley* here

They've both been here too many times to count—covered in soot, smoke in their lungs, sweat plastering their hair to their faces, but never at the same time. Never where the other can't be near to see, to place a hand on a shoulder, to lean against in support. A fire in a high-rise, a family trapped on the upper floors, and that's all it took for Buck to grab the ropes, Eddie behind him, because where one goes, the other follows. It's their routine, their deal, the promise to have each other's backs, to support whenever needed, it's just never ended them both in the hospital at the same time.

Eddie is the first one released—Buck had been the first to go in, and made sure that Eddie was out before him, because of course he did. And maybe Eddie should've insisted that Buck get out before him, should've argued with him for an extra five seconds, should've done something so that Buck doesn't have to spend the night in the hospital alone. But he didn't, and now Eddie is being sent home and the doctor is refusing to let him see Buck.

"Mr. Diaz," the doctor says, "Your friend is fine."

Eddie wants to argue with her, because friend? Friend? Like Buck and Eddie have been anything but friends for a long time. Like Buck isn't laying in a hospital bed alone, when Eddie should be there to support him. Like by denying him seeing Buck, all the smoke that was in Eddie's lungs returns and it's almost impossible to breathe for the second time tonight.

"He's asleep now and resting," she continues when Eddie opens his mouth to argue, "Which you should be doing, too. You need to go home and rest, you can come see him in the morning."

"But—"

"Mr. Diaz," she cuts him off, remaining polite, but obviously frustrated, "Visiting hours have been over for a long time, and Mr. Buckley will be discharged in the morning. Someone will give you a call, and you can pick him up then."

The doctor's tone is one of finality, but Eddie can't take no for an answer. Before he can continue pleading his case, Bobby arrives. He comes over to Eddie and the doctor, placing a reassuring hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I've got it from here, thanks doc," he says, before steering Eddie toward the exit. They've barely made it out the doors before Eddie shakes Bobby's hand from his shoulder, and turns on him.

"Bobby," he all but begs, "You have to let me see him. They brought us in at the same time, but I haven't seen him since. I know it's smoke inhalation, and probably some fatigue and dehydration, but they won't let me see him." Eddie knows how he sounds, knows it's desperate in a way he normally isn't, but it's Buck. It's Buck, who has ended up in hospitals more times than he cares to count, who is his partner, who made sure that Eddie got out of the building first, even knowing it would land him more time here—he can't just leave him behind.

"Eddie," Bobby says as evenly as possible—it's the same tone he uses on distraught spouses, and Eddie wants to cry, "I need you to take a breath for a minute, okay? Just take a moment to calm down, and then we'll figure it out."

And yeah, Eddie probably does need to collect himself, because while smoke inhalation can be serious, Buck is getting exactly the care he needs right now. There's nothing for Eddie to do, yet it doesn't stop the helplessness that's settled in the space between his ribs, which only worsened after the doctor told him he was being discharged without Buck. So, Eddie shuts his eyes, and allows himself a few moments to just breathe, to focus on the air entering and then leaving his lungs, to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling. It helps steady him, helps him come back to a relatively even keel.

"Are you good to drive?" Is the first thing that Bobby asks once Eddie opens his eyes. He doesn't think he can talk without freaking out again, so he nods his response. "Okay, good. What's going to happen is I'm going to drive you back to the station, you're going to get your truck, take it home, see Christopher, and go to sleep. Because the doctor was right, you need to rest. And in the morning, when the hospital calls you, you'll go pick up Buck. Sound like a plan?"

Now that he's calmed down and the adrenaline that's been keeping him alert has worn off, Eddie feels a deep tiredness settle in his bones, and it takes all his remaining energy to stay on his feet. Again, Eddie nods in response, walks over to the car, and says, "Take me to the station, Cap." And that's what Bobby does.

Normally, when one of the crew returns from the hospital, the rest of the shift is there to greet them, but no one is there when Eddie arrives, and he's grateful. His nerves are fried, he's exhausted, and he doesn’t think he could handle the team's questions right now. All he wants to do is shower, grab his bag, and go home—thankfully, he's able to do that without even hearing the low hum of conversation that's ever present in the loft.

Eddie is locking the front door behind him and taking off his shoes while he debates whether or not to wake Chris just so he can give him a hug. It's only when he's finally made it to Chris' door that he has his answer—not because he came to a decision himself, but because one was made for him.

Chris' bed is empty, and for a heartbeat Eddie panics, because Christopher isn't in his bed, but then he remembers: he was injured on hour twelve of a twenty-four-hour shift, so of course Chris isn't here. And Eddie should feel relieved, should feel calmer now, but all he can think about is the fact that he can't see his son, and he can't see Buck, and suddenly it's like the anchors that were holding his mooring in place have let go, and he's adrift.

Eddie tries to breathe, tries to remind himself that both his boys are okay, they're both being looked after, they're both safe. He goes to the kitchen, fills a glass with water, and drinks it all in one go. He fills it again, this time bringing it to his room, setting it down on the table beside his bed. Eddie changes into an old t-shirt that Buck left behind ages ago and an old pair of army sweatpants before he slides into bed.

Now that he's home and in bed, the exhaustion should be catching up with him, all but dragging him to sleep. Except, now that Eddie's alone, he can't stop thinking about how quiet the house is, how empty it feels. Even on nights when Chris is away at a sleepover, Buck would always come over, and they'd watch a movie, or a hockey game, or just talk over beers. The negative space, normally filled by laughter and jokes and, god, even Buck's snoring in his ear, feels like a noose around his neck. No matter what he does, Eddie just cannot sleep.

So, Eddie lays in bed and does his best not to think about the call that ended him up here, and Buck alone in the hospital. Does his best not to think about how he should have told Buck to take the daughter out while he got the father. Does his best not to think about how Buck removed his mask to help the victim breathe, and putting himself in danger. A shuddering sob rips through his chest, and he forces himself to sit up because he needs to get air in his lungs or he'll choke on his guilt and fear.

The clock on beside his bed reads quarter after five, so he figures that's good enough for morning, and gets up. He can't stay in his empty house any longer, so Eddie slips on the worn sweater that he keeps hanging off the back of his door, grabs his keys and wallet, puts on his shoes, and then he's out the door.

The drive to the hospital is quick, but now he has nothing to do but wait. He turns on the radio, but keeps it low so that it's just a hum in the background. At some point, Eddie must doze, because the next thing he knows, he's being startled awake by his ringtone and the clock on his dashboard reads half past seven.

"Hello, is this Mr. Di—"

"Yes," he interrupts the caller, not caring how he sounds, "I'm outside."

"Okay, we'll send him to you now." And it's all Eddie can do to mumble a quick thank you before hanging up.

He doesn't go up to the doors, but his truck is parked close enough to the front that Buck can't miss him. Still, he gets out, leans against the driver side door, and waits. It doesn't take long, maybe a minute or two, and Buck is walking out the doors, looking side to side, eyes searching. He's clean, his curls are soft, if a little messy, and his whole face lights up the moment he sees Eddie.

"You look like shit," is the first thing Buck says to him. He comes right up to Eddie, less than a foot away, and Eddie has to clutch his hands together so he doesn't reach out and touch. But even without touching him, the weight that has made a home in Eddie's chest since last night melts away, like it's made of ice and Buck of flame.

"Well," Eddie tries to joke, "Not all of us got our beauty sleep." But he can't hide the heaviness in his voice, he can't help how it wavers now that the tension is gone, he can't help but lower his head.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck says earnestly, taking hands he didn't even realize were shaking in his own.

And it's the softness in his voice, the thumb running over his knuckles, the pulse he can feel once he lets himself grip Buck's wrist, that gives him the strength to answer, "Yeah, Buck?"

"We're okay," Buck tells him, like a promise. Like the answer to a question Eddie hadn't dared ask because it terrified him. Buck's hands move from their grip on Eddie's, one hand sliding around his waist, the other coming to the back of his head.

"Yeah," Eddie whispers into the space between Buck's shoulder and neck, "we're okay."

Buck only holds him tighter now, his lips pressed to Eddie's temple, as he releases a shuttering breath. They stay there, each clutching the other, until they no longer feel adrift, until their moorings are once again anchored in a cove, and no longer lost in the rolling waves of the open ocean.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my fic #please be gentle with me #i'm still trying to find my writing voice #and i'm doing my best to write eddie well so i hope i did him justice #(at least as much as i could with how little experience i have writing)#anyway im always open to tips and (polite) critiques #911 on fox #10:30 am ast def was not the time to post this #but i needed to do it or i never would #are they together in this? are they not? who knows? certainly not me!

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captainsolare · 3 years

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All Things Come to an End

A/N: This is my collab piece for @quirkyseastone 's milestone event!

Enemies to Lovers + Fairy Tale AU + Bakugo

Synopsis: When it is time for the heir to the throne to seek a spouse, one champion a month is chosen to go through a series of challenges. Bakugo is the first champion from his village to be chosen in several years and he will do anything to win. You, the heir to the throne, are terrified of change, and will do anything to keep it from happening.

Word Count: ~3.5k

The buzz of the hall came to an abrupt halt as he came onto the stage; Yagi Toshinori, the previous champion had at long last come to pick from their village.

“Hello, citizens of Eikka! As you know, the royal family is still looking for a worthy partner for the heir. Many of you are gathered here today for a chance to join the family, whether that be for social reasons, for wealth, or just to prove you can. Regardless, only one of you has been chosen.”

“This month’s champion, from the village of Eikka is…”

Amidst the anticipation of the announcement Bakugo balled his fists, hoping no one would take notice of the way his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms. His eyes darted from person to person, heart racing as they waited.

“Katsuki Bakugo!”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, had he heard right? Was it actually him? Arms shoved him towards the stage and he stumbled up the stairs. The lights were blinding, he’d waited for this moment for so long, and now it had finally arrived.

“Bakugo, what are you hoping to achieve this month? Not just for yourself but for your village?” Yagi asked, eyes fixated on the young man.

Bakugo blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright spotlights.

“Honestly, I just want to win. I will give this village the honor of having its champion become the first in its history to become a part of the royal family.”

Yagi smiled, nodding at his answer. He then grabbed Bakugo’s arm, thrusting it up towards the sky,

“Citizens, your champion!”

You sat leaned back in your chair, feet on the desk as you read the file you were given. You sighed, giving an incredulous look to your first knight, Keigo,

“This is this month’s champion? How boring.” You tossed the file onto the desk with the others from the previous months, “He’ll probably give up within the first week.”

Keigo tutted, “Now now Y/N, I would give him more credit than that. He is ranked number one in his village in all the important areas.”

You scoffed, “Except in diplomacy. How am I supposed to lead beside someone who can’t negotiate his way out of a paper bag without ripping it?”

The corners of Keigo’s mouth twitched, “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

Bakugo walked home, chest puffed out and heart soaring. Midoriya, his childhood friend and rival, walked with him, a much shyer figure compared to the newly chosen champion.

“I always knew you could do it.” Midoriya said, eyes sparkling.

Bakugo laughed, “Of course! I always knew I was worthy, now’s my chance to prove it.”

Midoriya paused, shoulders tense, “Aren’t you afraid you might die? The last champion didn’t come home.”

Bakugo stopped in his tracks, causing his friend to nearly stumble.

“Why would I be afraid of a silly thing like death? I’m way too good to die.”

Midoriya straightened, extending a finger and poking him in the chest, hard.

“You better not. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

Bakugo stood at the edge of the forest, heart pounding as he prepared to set off on his journey. This would be it, the fruits of his labor, everything he had been working towards would be decided this month. Everyone in the village had come to see him off, but he had shooed them away, telling them he needed his concentration. Even though it appeared they had left, it still felt as though there were eyes watching him, studying his every move, waiting for him to fail.

He walked, careful to move as silently as possible; oftentimes champions were ambushed in the forests outside their towns, usually by a nameless jealous person who was afraid of their dreams of wealth and fortune being dashed. There was a large crack of wood, and Bakugo spun around, knife clutched tightly in his hand.

“There’s no need for all that, it’s only an old man.”

Bakugo studied the figure before him, it did appear to be an old man, harmless enough, but there was no telling if he had allies in the woods, waiting, watching.

The man laughed, a gravelly sound that grated in Bakugo’s ears. “I brought you an amulet.” As if sensing his inevitable protest, the man continued,

“You may not think you need it, but every little bit of protection helps doesn’t it?”

Bakugo frowned, head cocked to the side as he studied the situation, worst case, he could die, but then again he had a real possibility of doing so in the challenges, or best case, the amulet really would protect him.

He took the amulet from the man’s outstretched hand and put it in his pocket.

“I can’t promise that I’ll wear it, but thank you.”

Bakugo turned on his heel, knife still clutched tightly in his palm, and set off on his journey.

“Lame!” You threw a piece of popcorn at the crystal ball you were watching Bakugo through. “You can’t just take the amulet, you have to at least say no first.”

You looked at the papers on your desk, the final preparations for your challenges were made, all it needed was your signature and everything would be complete.

Stealing a glance at the crystal ball showing his progress you smiled, “Ah, I can’t wait to crush another one.”

The path to the castle was steep and winding and Bakugo’s legs were aching by the time he reached the gate. A pair of trumpets announced him and the gate opened to reveal you standing there, your first knight just behind your shoulder.

“Greetings champion, I am the royal heir, Y/N.”

Bakugo bowed his head and opened his mouth to introduce himself but you waved him off.

“I know who you are. Katsuki Bakugo, selfish man with an artificially inflated ego who thinks he is better than everyone else.”

His cheeks burned at your words but he held his tongue, there was no way for him to talk back here, you were royalty and despite appearances, Katsuki knew his place.

You smiled, “Congratulations, you just passed your first challenge.”

Katsuki’s head snapped up, “Really?”

Your smile immediately disappeared, “Of course not. You really think winning my hand would be that easy?”

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that he had fallen for such a petty trick.

Waving your hand in the air, you turned to walk away.

“This will be hell, I’ll make sure of it. Keigo will take you around the grounds and show you to your quarters. I expect you to come to me at 7 sharp in the morning.”

Keigo bowed as you walked away and you were quickly accompanied by several other attendants.

Keigo took a moment to look over Katsuki with his keen eyes, narrowing them, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N is really something, don’t you think?” He said, an almost daring tone in his voice.

Bakugo’s brows furrowed as he studied the older man, “Yeah, something.”

Keigo turned and set a quick pace, enough that Bakugo had to jog to keep up.

“Here are the training grounds, you can use them at your leisure though I can’t say how much good it’ll do you; for most of the challenges you aren’t allowed to use weapons. The castle gardens are that way, the heir can often be found reading there. There is the castle, obviously.”

Bakugo tried to take in as much information as he could in the short span he was given. Keigo led him inside and the pair walked up a long staircase. A simple door lay in front of them, wooden and unimpressive looking.

“Your quarters are here through that door, try to get rest when you can, you’ll need it.”

Keigo pointed down a hallway, “Down there is the tower. You’ll go there to meet with the heir to get your challenges. This is where I leave you, there is a kitchen stocked with food in your quarters, I presume you can make your own meals, yes?”

Bakugo nodded and Keigo nodded in affirmation.

“You shall meet the heir in the morning to receive your first challenge. Get some sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

The door to the tower stood large and intimidating; he knocked once and the door opened, revealing a long winding staircase. When he reached the top, he hesitated, thumbing at the amulet that lay under his clothes. This is stupid, how is an amulet going to help me?

The door opened to reveal Keigo, and Bakugo strode in after a quick bow to the heir.

“Greetings Heir.”

You smiled but it lacked warmth, “Good morning Champion. Are you ready to receive your first challenge?”

“Yes I am.”

Your smile widened, “Glad to hear it. Just to refresh your memory, you have 5 challenges to complete, with varying degrees of difficulty.”

“Yes Heir.”

“Your first task will be to retrieve a pearl necklace from the bottom of the nearby lake.”

Bakugo stiffened, it was winter outside, the water would be ice cold.

“Yes Heir.”

Bakugo tried to hide how he was shivering, but the erratic fog of his breath gave him away. The knight accompanying him tried to reassure him with a smile.

“There are 85 pearls in a necklace.” The knight said quietly, as Bakugo stood at the edge of the lake.

Bakugo turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

The knight said nothing further.

He could feel the icy water in his veins, in his very soul. It was cold, so very cold, and he had only found 20 pearls so far. He swam to the surface once more, adding a singular pearl to his pile on a tree stump.

Before he dove again, he tapped the amulet, secretly hoping it would bring him strength through this trial. This time when he dove, the water felt warm and when he reached the sandy bottom he found a long strand of pearls.

When he emerged to count them, he was delighted to find that it was a string of 65 pearls, missing 20 to make an even 85.

You hissed as he pulled the long string of pearls from the water. How did he get that? I cut those off myself.

There was a knock on the door and it opened to reveal Bakugo, dripping icy water on your floor while holding a complete pearl necklace. He walked towards you and bowed at the desk you sat behind.

“May I put the necklace on you?”

You hummed an affirmative, and he came behind you, shaking hands dripping ice cold water down your back as he tried to clasp the necklace. You hissed from the cold, but the more overwhelming feeling was the heat that seemed to radiate from him. He was so close, for some reason it made your heart beat faster, and that made you seethe with anger.

“Congratulations, you have successfully completed the first task. Go rest and save your strength for the day ahead.”

As soon as he was out of earshot you stood, slamming your hands on the desk.

“Keigo!”

“Yes, my Heir.”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, “Was that just a fluke? I cut that necklace myself, there should have been 85 individual pearls and one string with a clasp at the bottom of that lake.”

Keigo’s expression was unreadable, “I don’t know, but I shall endeavor to find out for you.”

He left you sitting at your desk, chewing on your lip in frustration.

“Your next task is translating a love poem into the ancient language.”

The paper given to him read as follows,

‘I have loved you since before my first breath and will love you long after my last

You are like the breeze on a hot summer's day, refreshing and just what I need

I will be by your side until the end and beyond it, we are bound by fate forever’

He had spent hours in the library, flipping between pages and pages of books that might give him an answer.

You smiled thoughtfully, “Look at him Keigo, so lost in thought. He should be stuck on this one for a while.”

As Bakugo pulled book after book off the shelf with no success he absentmindedly thumbed the amulet. He turned the corner to make a pass at a bookshelf he had cleared and there was a single book still left on it. A quick glance showed it was exactly what he needed and he had to restrain himself from running back to his work station.

You frowned as you watched him and it deepened as you realized which book he was reading.

“I don’t understand, I removed that book from the library myself.”

Your brows furrowed as you rewound the footage, it was subtle, but you saw Bakugo’s hand briefly go to his chest. There was a flash of silver and you gasped, “It’s that damned amulet, it must be.”

“Keigo!” You called, he appeared at your side at once, “I need you to do something about the amulet that boy is wearing.”

“I shall take care of it at once.”

Bakugo examined the manuscript. The poem was somehow more beautiful after you read the translation. He went to the tower with paper in hand, heart hammering at the prospect of reading it to you. The door opened for him immediately and he did the customary bow.

“You were able to translate it?” You asked, an almost imperceptible quiver in your voice.

“Yes, shall I read it to you?”

When you nodded, Bakugo held the paper before him and took a deep breath,

“I love you from my first breath and I love you after my last breath

You are like the wind on a hot summer day, refreshing and exactly what I want

I will be with you until the end, and we will be bound forever”

He hoped you couldn’t hear the shake in his voice as he read it.

You paused, cheeks hot with embarrassment,

“Congratulations Champion, you have successfully completed your second task.”

You sat on your balcony watching the moon when Keigo appeared next to you.

“Is it done?” You asked, not bothering to hide the shake in your voice.

“Yes.”

Keigo sat next to you on the lounge chair as you patted for him to sit down. You leaned against him, a silent plea for support.

“Keigo?” You asked after a while.

He hummed in response and you took a shaky breath.

“Is it wrong to be scared? There’s a very real chance he could win.”

Keigo wrapped his arm around you, it’s weight was a welcome comfort.

“Not at all, if he wins, your life will change. But all things must change at some point or another.”

You grabbed his arm with your own, holding it tighter against you.

“But I’m not ready to leave you yet.” You said quietly.

Keigo smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head, “Oh little bird, all things must come to an end. But I will be here always, your faithful knight, nothing more, nothing less.” We were never anything more.

You let the tears flow down your cheeks, Keigo held you as you cried long into the night.

The next challenge was to move a pile of boulders to the top of a tall hill without them rolling back down. Bakugo carried boulder after boulder up the hill but no matter what he did they would roll back to the bottom.

One of the boulders split and he got an idea, a sudden spark of innovation.

“Am I allowed to use items for this one?”

The knight nodded and Bakugo jumped up, grabbing an axe and a flour sack. He hacked at the boulders until the sun sank low in the sky and his shoulders were on fire, but when he was finished he had a large sack of pebbles.

He took it easily to the top of the hill and laid it down flat, it wouldn’t roll down the hill.

You couldn’t help but marvel at his idea, it required adaptability and working with materials you had that weren’t necessarily suited to the job.

He entered the tower with a bow, and you smiled a genuine smile.

“Congratulations Champion, you have successfully completed your third challenge.”

Bakugo couldn’t get your smile out of his head, now that he had seen it for real he never wanted to let it go. He somehow wanted to be the reason you smiled, and he would do anything to see it again.

“Your fourth challenge is to save someone in distress. Go to town and see what you can do.”

When Bakugo made it to the town he was surprised to find it remarkably empty for a place that was usually bustling. He wandered the city, and only found a dog with a hurt paw.

He sat down and pulled the medicine kit from his bag, coaxing the dog towards him. He gently cleaned and wrapped the dog’s hurt paw and sent her on her way, with a bit of food first.

Bakugo was sent to the gardens instead of the tower to receive his judgement, he arrived a bit early though and stumbled across you tending to your plants as you hummed. His heart clenched, it was a little adorable, seeing the normally closed off you so open while by yourself. There was something remarkably authentic about it, seeing your slumped posture, your genuine smile.

Once you noticed him you straightened your posture and your clothes, expression returning to the neutral one of a ruler.

“That was an interesting loophole you found there. Congratulations Bakugo, you have successfully completed your fourth challenge.”

My name. The Heir said my name.

“I think I want him to win, Keigo.” You said softly, voice scarcely above a whisper.

Keigo smiled, “That’s wonderful Y/N, I’m so glad.”

You didn’t notice the sadness as he left, nor the tears brimming above his cheeks.

“Your fifth and final challenge is the most difficult. You must bring me back a ruby from a dragon’s horde without weapons.”

Bakugo nodded and went to gather the necessary provisions for the journey.

It took four days to reach the mountain where the dragon lived, now he stood at the mouth of the cave, trying to stifle the nervousness threatening to explode from his chest.

He entered the cave with his hands up to show he was not a threat, all weapons left at the entrance to the cave.

The dragon regarded him curiously, “Who are you mortal? Why have you come to this place?”

“I am no threat to you. I only wish to make the one I love happy.”

The dragon chuckled, pillars of smoke rising from its nostrils, “Oh? You’ve come here for someone else? How selfless of you.”

Bakugo shoved his frustration down in favor of taking a deep breath. “I only wish to make the one I want to be with happy.”

“And how can I help with that? Wouldn’t your lover be happier if you returned alive.”

Bakugo remained steadfast, stilling his rapid heart.

“I only wish for one ruby from your horde.”

The dragon laughed once more, this time emitting sparks, “And what shall I get in return?”

Bakugo somehow stood even taller, “An ally, who will make sure you remain unbothered on your mountain.”

The dragon considered his offer for a moment then nodded.

“Very well, you may have a ruby. Be warned though, if I find anything else missing our agreement will be void and I will attack your kingdom.”

He nodded. “Of course, thank you.”

Bakugo picked up his weapons and prepared for the journey back to the castle.

You couldn’t help but run to him as he knelt at the gate with the ruby in his hand. You waved him up with your hand and wrapped him in an embrace.

“Congratulations Katsuki Bakugo, you have successfully completed your fifth and final challenge.”

The king came out, announced by a fanfare of trumpets. “There will be a ball tonight in your honor.”

Bakugo took your hand in the empty hallway, wanting to pause before you went into the eyes of the public.

“Remember when you hated me?”

You snorted, “I never hated you Katsuki.”

He turned to you with a raised eyebrow, “Oh really? Then what was the artificially inflated ego comment about?”

You gave him a coy smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. “That was a test.”

You opened the door and stepped into the light, hand in hand, until forever.

All things must come to an end, but sometimes the good leaves to make room for something better.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #enemies to lovers #fairy tale au #katsuki x reader #gender neutral reader #aurora borealis

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

Nightcall

Pairing: Thrawn x afab reader

Rating: Explicit (Very 18+)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: established relationship, edging, praise k!nk, very slight dom/sub undertones, interspecies relationship

Summary: Reader has had a VERY long day, and Thrawn is away from the Chimaera. Or is he?

Author's note: Hi! I'm finally starting to post fics to Tumblr again. I've been away for a bit, but I am very excited to write more. All my stuff is also on AO3 here! Any comments or reblogs are always greatly appreciated (seriously y'all leave the sweetest comments and it makes my day). Have fun reading my first ever attempt at smut and lmk if you'd like to be added to my tags <3

Today had been hell.

Thrawn had departed the Chimaera days ago to handle some business on Coruscant, and, as usual, Konstantine was using his absence as an excuse to be a massive pain in the ass. The Grand Admiral relied on you to help keep order just as much as he relied on Eli Vanto, but he was currently as busy as you were. So, the ever-glamorous job of making sure the Seventh Fleet remained in orbit mainly fell to you.

It was the fifth day Thrawn had been gone, and you were already fantasizing about throwing Konstantine out of the airlock. It would undoubtedly save the remnants of your sanity. He usually wasn’t blatantly insubordinate, but today he seemed to make an exception.

“I simply don’t understand why the Grand Admiral is insisting on holding this formation,” he exclaimed. “We should be chasing the rebels back to their base by now!”

Another headache was definitely coming on. I swear on every star in this kriffing galaxy…..

Your reply was icy and tinged with frustration, “Konstantine, if you wish to question the Grand Admiral’s tactics, you are more than welcome to discuss it with him when he comes back. Until then, we will be following the orders he left us with.”

He momentarily met your piercing stare before realizing any further arguments would be futile.

“Fine. I do believe I’m needed elsewhere,” Konstantine huffed as he departed the bridge.

For the first time in hours, the bridge was blessedly silent. You sank into a chair, rubbing your temples. Kriff, I definitely feel that headache now….

A sudden hand on your shoulder made you jump. You were so distracted that Eli might as well have materialized out of thin air.

“Hard day?” The corners of his mouth twitched as he attempted to stifle his amusement. “I heard you gave Konstantine a well-deserved earful.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Next time, it’s your turn. This is my fourth headache in the past five days.”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? You’ve been working harder than anyone else on the Chimaera for days.” He lowered his voice before adding, “He should be back soon.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the news. You and Thrawn had gone to great lengths to keep your relationship secret from the crew, but Eli was too good of a friend to be kept in the dark. Besides, he would’ve noticed eventually that his two best friends were slightly more than friends.

Eli must’ve noticed the change in your expression, “Oh, you definitely need a break.”

He shoved a datapad in your hands and started pulling you to your feet, ignoring the numerous protests you gave him. “Here, take this to Thrawn’s office, leave it on his desk, and then you’re taking the rest of the day off. No arguments.”

-----------------------------

Thrawn’s office was its usual freezing temperature. Even though your uniform had layers of thick material, the chill was easily seeping through them. Shivering, you placed the datapad on the large desk in the back of the room.

You turned to leave, but a pang shot through your heart as you looked around the empty room. It was normal for you to barely see Thrawn on the days he was especially busy, but it was always different when you knew he wasn’t on the Chimaera at all. Stars, you missed him when he was gone. Just knowing he was nearby on days you couldn’t see him was so comforting. “Soon” wasn’t a good enough time frame for when he’d return.

A sudden thought crossed your mind; nothing was stopping you from spending the night in Thrawn’s quarters. It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence for you to sleep here, and it would be comforting. Besides, with your headache, you didn’t exactly feel like walking all the way back across the ship to your room, and his private quarters were conveniently connected to his office.

You began stripping off your uniform as you walked into the room and made your way over to the bed. It was still freezing, but every layer you removed took the worries of the day with it. Soon, everything except your bra and panties sat neatly folded on the bedside table. In this moment, you weren’t an Imperial officer; you were a woman climbing into her lover’s bed for comfort after a long day.

As soon as you slid between the soft, black sheets, you instantly received the comfort you were craving. They smelled exactly like Thrawn, crisp and clean, but with a unique depth cut by the citrusy scent of his favorite tea. You could almost imagine that he was actually there beside you. A contented smile crossed your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

---------------------------------

You suddenly woke to a light caress on your cheek. In your groggy state, you didn’t fully realize what that touch meant until you leaned into it. You would have probably fallen back asleep were it not for the low, pleased murmur that followed your actions.

“Apologies, ch’eo bat in’a, I did not mean to wake you, but I was not expecting to find you here.”

Your eyes flew open in shock as you sat up and gasped, “Thrawn!”

The low light in the room illuminated the regal form sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. Thrawn’s usually unreadable expression was one of slight amusement mixed with another, softer expression. You couldn’t help but notice his beautiful azure-hued skin and luminous ruby eyes were only complemented by the dimmed light; you couldn’t help but think he was meant to be seen like this. He must’ve been tired from the constant travel, but nothing in his posture or expression gave it away.

You didn’t wait for him to speak again before reaching over to embrace him. Thrawn immediately wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you in tightly. Pressing your face into his chest, you quietly murmured, “I missed you.”

He said nothing, so you assumed he didn’t hear. You both sat contentedly for a few minutes and savored the intimacy before he moved one hand to stroke lazily down your back and the other to run through your hair. As you leaned further into his touch, he grabbed your chin and turned your head so he could press his lips to your ear.

“You are quite endearing when you’re half-asleep. It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

The praise combined with the sensation of his warm breath in your ear finally did you in; a flame began to spark to life in your core. You had missed him, and every single part of you was screaming for you to let him know just how much.

Before you could even move, Thrawn trailed his lips down to kiss your neck, and the flame in your core blossomed. You let out a quiet, breathy moan, and he immediately stopped.

Bringing his lips back to trace the shell of your ear, he rasped, “Oh? It seems you did miss me. How fortunate that I was able to return to you already in my bed.” He paused to lightly trace the outline of your bra before continuing. “And in something so pretty too. A shame that it will soon be discarded.”

You whimpered at his words as his lips renewed their brutal assault on your neck and upper chest. For what seemed like an eternity, Thrawn was content to lavish affection on the spots that provoked the greatest responses from you as his hands held you in place.

“Thrawn, please…. Touch me….” you begged, hoping desperately for him to comply.

He merely let out a dark chuckle as he chided, “Patience, ch’eo ch’itiseb, for every protest that leaves your pretty mouth, I will be sure to make you wait even longer.”

You bit back a moan at his sinful words; his eyes seemed to glow even brighter, and his smile turned feral. The look he gave you in return was simply predatory.

He continued to suck hickies into the sensitive skin at the base of your neck and around your collarbones. His tongue licked a long, torturous line up the column of your neck to kiss the area under your jaw. With every kiss, caress, and touch, the flame in your core spread throughout your entire body. He bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and you melted even further into his arms.

“It seems you were able to learn an adequate lesson in patience, so now we may continue. Turn around for me,” he ordered.

You turned to face the wall as he returned to his previous position at the edge of the bed. He trailed his hands up your waist and around to cup your breasts. Thrawn may have decided that you could have more of his touch, but he still refused to dip his hand under the lacy fabric of your bra. Instead, he teasingly rubbed over the material to brush against your nipples. Your head fell back to rest on his shoulder as you pushed your chest out into his hands, still desperate for more.

“How very, very eager for my touch….” His tone was still infuriatingly collected for how quickly he’d reduced you into a moaning mess, but a slight accent began to mar his words. “Ch’itses’o euhn ei.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Thrawn unfastened and discarded your bra. Finally, he wrapped his hands entirely around your breasts. The sharp contrast between the warmth of his body and the room’s icy air only intensified the pleasure as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers.

You couldn’t help but moan his name again, loudly. Thrawn’s breath hitched before he let out a low, breathy moan, “Bun vn’inen’i. Let me hear you.”

His voice had always been profoundly attractive, but hearing him murmur filthy sentiments into your ear in his native tongue made you absolutely melt. You let out another gasp and rubbed your thighs together, seeking any friction you could find, keenly aware of the desire beginning to pool between them. In your desperate search for friction, you accidentally rubbed your ass back against him and felt his growing erection.

The contact made Thrawn hiss. In one fluid motion, he flipped you around, pushed your back flat against the mattress, and leaned over you.

It was moments like this when you remembered you were in the bed of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Thrawn’s ruby eyes glowed with lust as he gazed down at you. His feral smile returned as he studied his prize. “Allow me to show you just how much I missed you.”

He trailed kisses from your breasts down to your inner thighs, nipping at them slightly, then stopping to look up at you as he reached your panties. “These must go,” he murmured against your thigh. Thrawn took the band in his teeth and began to tug the panties off, using his hands to remove them fully.

Finally, you laid before him completely bare, and once again, he paused to appreciate your body. “Simply beautiful,” he cooed.

Thrawn returned to kiss your inner thighs before he spread your legs further. He moved to kneel on the floor at the side of the bed and pulled your hips to the edge. You knew exactly what was coming next. “Oh….”

You barely had time to moan before he swiped an experimental finger through your core. Under any other circumstances, you’d be embarrassed that you were already so wet, but Thrawn lit a fire in you that no one else could. Now it was his turn to let out a low groan at his discovery.

He didn’t waste any more time before moving one of his long fingers to lightly trace around your entrance. The torment of his delicate touch made you rock your hips upwards, desperately begging for more contact. Without warning, he pushed two fingers deep inside you, making your walls clench hard around them. You moaned and begged for more as he began to pump them in and out of your drenched core, causing your legs to shudder in pleasure.

“Look at you, I’ve only just started using my fingers, and you’re already shaking,” Thrawn groaned.

He brought you right up to the peak of pleasure before suddenly withdrawing. You sobbed in protest as he brought his fingers up to your mouth. “Clean them off,” he commanded. Hoping that he’d finish you off if you complied, you obediently took his fingers into your mouth and sucked all your juices off of them.

Thrawn was very pleased. He moved back down between your thighs and sucked another hickey on the delicate skin before returning his attention to your core. He slowly circled your sensitive clit with a finger before licking his way up to suck on it. Once again, he continued his attention until you were at the very edge before withdrawing. Being edged once was hard, but the second time left you an absolute mess.

When Thrawn looked down on you, covered in his marks, eyes glazed over in lust and absolutely begging for completion, he lost the remnants of his control. He leaned back up to murmur, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, how would you like me?”

“Stars, Thrawn, I don’t care. I just want you inside me now,” you moaned back at him as you reached up to help tug off his remaining clothing. After a few moments, he was also completely bare and leaning over you on the bed again.

With how desperate you felt, any time at all was too long, but your pleas and cries finally turned into more gasps and moans of pleasure as he finally lined his thick cock up with your entrance. The feeling of being so gloriously stretched and filled as he pushed in made your walls clench around him. Thrawn moaned at the sensation and began fucking you at a leisurely pace.

He leaned in to capture your lips in a burning, passionate kiss as his thrusts grew faster and your hips rose to meet them. His hands roamed your body, finding their way to pinch and tug at your nipples. You moaned into his mouth as you grew closer and closer to the high you’d been chasing all night.

Pausing between kisses, Thrawn suddenly grabbed your chin and stared into your eyes with his burning red ones before returning to kiss you hungrily. The unspoken message was clear: you were his. This new intensity, combined with his thrusts that came faster and faster, finally sent you over the edge into a shattering climax. Thrawn’s thrusts grew more and more erratic until he finished soon after you, coating your walls with his seed as he came.

As you both lay there in the afterglow, Thrawn mused, “I may have to find an excuse to be gone more often.”

Tags: @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @mittheresabosen @handbaskethell

#also on ao3 #Thrawn x f!reader #Grand Admiral Thrawn x reader #Thrawn x you #Star wars fanfic #rebels fanfic #thrawn x reader

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italianwithanattitude · 3 years

Text

Jet Black Hair (K.B.)

Kaz Brekker x FEM!reader

A/N: this is my first time writing on tumblr so please let me know what I do and don’t do! Anyways, enjoy loves.

Summary: Kaz starts to panic and Y/N try’s to help him the best she can.

Warnings: touch aversion, panic attack, mention of anxiety attacks, mention of desire, idk if I missed anything so let me know.

Word count: 1921

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Thief. Criminal. Gang Leader. The Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands. These were all names to describe the one and only, Kaz Brekker. But the people giving Kaz these names obviously didn’t know him, at least not like Y/N did.

Y/N and Kaz had been in a relationship for at least for a year and a half now. Y/N was in love with him since the first time she saw him, his jet black hair, the small limp that made him who he is, and those eyes. Those god damn unsettlingly deep, brown eyes. Y/N wanted to melt every time they exchanged a glance. Kaz’s gaze would soften the minute he laid eyes on his girl.

But with love came other emotions. Kaz still struggled greatly with his PTSD and touch aversion caused by it. It always made him sad or angry to see Y/N touching Jespers arm, or sharing a long hug with Nina. God it angered Kaz that he couldn’t do anything about it. He saw you cast longingful glances at couples at the club that were making out or holding hands, and it pained him, reminding himself that he wasn’t good enough for you. But that wasn’t true at all, you love him, and wouldn’t trade him for anything.

“Kaz wants to see you.” Inej said, popping her head around the door frame of your quarters. You were just finishing the second book in the selection series when she arrived. A smile lit up your face but when Inej didn’t return the smile you knew something was wrong. Before Inej could say another word you were off your cot and sprinting up the flights of stairs to Kaz. You probably looked like an idiot sprinting through the club with PJ pants and Kaz’s black button up on. Without knocking, which you would always knock, you burst in the door. You stood their for a moment in shock, Kaz Brekker was crying. You waisted no more time and ran over next to him, stopping before you touched.

“Kaz?” Y/N whispered. Kaz’s face was buried deep in his hands, his body jumping up and down. No response. “Kaz?” You whispered again. No response. You tried one more time “Kaz.” You whispered placing a hand on his shoulder blade, and you instantly realized that was the worst thing you could do. His body jumped his eyes shooting to yours, red and puffy. You quickly retracted your hand, realizing the horrible mistake you made. Kaz was panicking, he wasn’t crying. You suddenly saw his chest rising and falling at a crazy rapid pace. He was going to pass out if he kept like this. “Kaz look at me,” you said fiercely.

Kaz lifted his eyes to meet Y/N’s. His skin was covered in goosebumps from her touch. He felt waves of nausea pass over him. He couldn’t breathe he was sucking in air but it wasn’t coming. “I-” Kaz tried to choke out but being cut off by another wave of nausea. Kaz dropped his gloved hands onto his desk, staring at the piles of plans and papers, but instead only seeing blurs of white and other colors. “Kaz, speak to me.” Y/N begged, but your voice was distant and he couldn’t focus on what Y/N was saying. The air wasn’t coming fast enough and Kaz started to see black dots crowding his vision.

“Kaz say something please!” You pleaded but he didn’t answer he was still hyperventilating, his eyes fixed on something that wasn’t even there. You had never seen Kaz like this. He looked pale, sickly, like he had seen a ghost. You wanted to reach out and hug him, pull him back to earth, but she couldn’t. Y/N felt hot tears starting to stream down her face. She can’t see him like this. The love of her life sitting right their, having a panic attack and you couldn’t do anything. “I-” Kaz’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Kaz” you gasped. “I- I’m going to faint.” He gasped through heaved of air. Y/N went still, eyes widening in panic. “Kaz, Kaz, Kaz. No no no. Stay with me. Stay Kaz.” Y/N pleaded the fiery tears flowing freely now. “NINA!” You screamed hoping someone heard. You heard a clamber of footsteps up the steps, you looked over. It was Jesper, stunned looking at the scene in front of him. “Get Nina you cried.” And Jesper ran. Returning minutes later with Wylan, Inej, Matthias, and Nina. Kaz looked up for a short moment though he probably only saw blurbs of color. “Everyone out except Nina!” You commanded, nobody should ever have seen Kaz like that except you. Jesper, Wylan, Matthias, and Inej filed out, as Nina rushed over to your side. “What’s wrong?” Nina quizzed rubbing circles on your back to calm you. “He’s having a panic attack and said he was going to faint. I don’t know, I thought you could slow his heart or something.” Y/N gasped between tears. Nina gave a sharp nod as she though of the best way to approach the situation. You looked back at Kaz. He shakily turned to look at you. His usual deep brown eyes, clouded and shallow. “Kaz, breathe.” Y/N pleaded, as Nina began to work. She began to slow his heart rate and control his breathing. Kaz began to slow his hyperventilating and his grip loosened on his desk.

His vision began to clear and he could make out the blurry figure of Nina, her hand was pressed to his chest and when his body came back from numbness he felt it and jumped. Nina removed her hand and nodded to Y/N before waking out, but stopped in the door frame. “You’re welcome Kaz.” Nina sighed before clicking away. “Darling?” Kaz heard Y/N whisper, his vision clear enough to see his beautiful Y/H/C haired queen kneeling beside him. He tried to force the corners of his mouth up to smile at her, but he couldn’t, he was too out of it. “Hi.” Y/N said, a big smile gracing her face. “Hi.” Kaz croaked, his voice full of cracks and gravel. Y/N reached to tuck a piece of Kaz’s hair that fell out of place and was sticking to his sweat sheened forehead. Though this time he didn’t flinch or push her away, he just shivered lightly. “Do you wanna talk about?” Y/N said as softly as possible. It took Kaz a minute to muster up the courage but then said it. “I’m not good for you Y/N. I see how you touch others and stare at the couples that are making out. I see how you sigh when you see couples holding hands. I can’t do that for you. I can’t Y/N.” There was a long pause. “I love you.” Y/N said. She had never said it to him before. ‘I love you’ rang through Kaz’s head. No, she can’t love me, he thought. She can’t because I’m not good for her, she craves touch that I can’t give her. But I do love her, the last person I loved left, and I had thought I would never love again, then you came into my life and I fell, I fell so fucking hard for you. I just can’t say it. What if I loose her too. Kaz thought to himself. Eventually he spoke. “I lo-” he cut himself off. “I- I can’t say it.” He stumbled over his words. Y/N nodded solemnly a sad smile on her face. She began to stand up and walk away, but Kaz darted his hand out and grabbed her wrist. He starred up at her still in his desk chair. “but I mean it.” He said yanking her down so their lips met. The kiss lasted barely a second but felt like years to Kaz. His girls flesh was alive, warm, hot, electrifying. Her touch set him on fire, as much as his body begged for more his brain and nausea told him no. Y/N looked shocked and red. A blush had spread over her cheeks and nose. She had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and when he saw that she was wearing his shirt he wanted to groan out loud at how it looked on her. “I- Kaz, I didn’t do that to push you-” Y/N spoke her mouth agape about what to say. “I don’t want you to regret it.” She frowned. Kaz felt sadness rush over him, she thought he didn’t want to do that?! “I will never regret that Y/N. Hell I actually didn’t even mind the feeling of your lips against mine.” He chuckled. “So Mr. Brekker does have a soft side.” Y/N teased. “Fuck off.” Kaz grumbled, but couldn’t hide the smirk that crossed his face. After a moment of silence and eye contact Kaz spoke.

“I want to try.” Y/N’s eyes shot wide. “For a baby?!! Kaz we’re both 17 and you just kissed me for the first time- I don’t think I’m ready to-” Kaz started laughing out loud. Y/N stopped rambling. “Are you laughing at me?!?! You were the one who-” Kaz cut her off. “I didn’t mean for a baby Y/N, Saints!” Kaz laughed at your scared expression turning to a confused one. “I want to try to get over my condition.” Kaz felt embarrassed talking about his PTSD and looked down at his lap. “Hey.” You said sweetly and quietly. He looked up to meet your eyes. “Let’s try-” “FOR A BABY Y/N OH MY ARE YOU CRAZY?!??” Kaz mocked. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. After a moment Kaz said “I would like that.” With a smile as he looked at you. “Where do we start?” He said, embarrassed once more. “I have an idea.” You smiled. You went and sat on your knees on Kaz’s extremely large bed, patting the section of bed in front of you for him to sit. Kaz grabbed his cane and limped over to you shakily. You smiled as he sat down with his back to you. “If you want me to stop say something or tap my leg.” You said as you brought your hands up to his gelled back hair. You slowly slid your fingers into his jet black locks and began playing with them. Breaking apart the strands that were gelled together, careful not to hurt Kaz. “My mom would do this to calm me down. I have never told you this but when I was younger I used to have anxiety attacks, so she would do this and I calmed down instantly.” You said, slowly brushing through his silky strands. He had thicker hair that was extremely soft. “This feels good.” Kaz mumbled slowly leaning back so his back was against your chest. You smiled, seeing that his usual scowl and frown were replaced by pure bliss and relaxation. You continued to play with your boyfriends hair and massage his scalp, getting him used to you touching him. After 10 minutes he started to shift uncomfortably and you whispered to him “it’s me Kaz, I’m right here.” Then continued to mumble sweet nothings until you noticed his breathing had evened and he was asleep. You smiled down at your handsome boyfriend. You didn’t bother to get up but just sat their, letting him lay on you in comfortable bliss.

“I love you”

#six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #aesthetic #alternative #soft grunge #goth #vintage

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yourmcu · 3 years

Text

102

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

Songfic based on ‘102′ by the 1975. Moments when Natasha’s really in love with you.

A/n: listen to that song here, it’s good

Word count: 2,442

Warnings: fluff. pining. angst. angst. one sided relationship. r’s an idiot

Well, we’re here We’re at the common again

To put it simply, Natasha’s in love with you. It’s been a while now and she’s positive about her feelings. She’s not even in denial of it.

Natasha loves everything about you especially those little things and how you can make her day a thousand times better just by being around. Only realizing it a few years after you became a full time Avenger, you’re still unaware even though you’ve got this wonderful friendship with her.

Friendship, she sighs. She thought she could do anything, unfortunately admitting her stupid feelings isn’t one of them. She’d be risking the friendship and bond you two have, or, you could admit that you felt the same and everyone’ll be happy.

However, the thing is, you don’t.

“I like the way that your face looks when I’m arguing with you”.

She finds you adorable even if it's just the dumbest thing ever.

"Nat!" You whine, flailing your hands at your sides like a child. "I called shotgun!"

"I got here first, didn't I?"

"Children, better hurry it up or we'll miss the premiere." Tony gets in the driver's seat.

Natasha sticks her tongue out and crosses her legs to get comfortable, teasing you. The way your eyebrows furrow and your lips turn into a pout, sometimes you'd flail your arms or cross them is so adorable to her.

"Nat," you drag out, crawling in to sit on her lap and attempt to push her out. You don't think of it much because you're frustrated. "Come on, Nat!"

"There's room for both of us here, this is fine." She smirks, wrapping her arms around your waist making you jolt. You're ticklish like that.

Natasha teasing you is the norm for the team so they barely react, so normal that Tony just goes ahead and drives while you're still on the redhead's lap.

"Stop! We're gonna get pulled over!"

"Eh, they owe us an unpayable debt, remember?"

Even if the matter's more serious, she couldn't help but feel soft for you. Every time.

Inside you were freaking out. It was when the Avengers were handed the Sokovia Accords. They were all your friends and to see them split in two sides was - crazy. You remained undecided, but you knew if you didn't sign you'd probably be behind bars.

Both sides made valid points. After Steve abruptly left you were with Natasha most of the time. She tried her best to persuade you that signing was the best option for the team.

"You know I'm not one with politics, I just don't trust them, Nat," you sigh, gently taking her hand to fiddle with. "But - but then again, we've done enough collateral damage through the years."

Natasha nods. "you know I'm with you no matter what happens, right?"

You nod as well and offer a thankful smile. She truly is your bestest friend.

"Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path," she continues. "Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

Her hand now intertwines with yours. But she gently removes hers, that's way too... weird. You can't just do that, Romanoff.

She mentally sighs in relief since it doesn’t look like you noticed. You remain silent, deep in thought, but you snap out of it when she gets up.

"I'm making a quick stop to London then I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. You're welcome to join me."

And so when, when we all grow old I hope this song will remind you that I’m not half as bad As what you’ve been told

Here we are, sort of like your origin story on how you met the Avengers.

Steve introduced you to the team when you've settled, healed, and able to control your pyrokinesis. You were thankful for them saving you from the HYDRA base because unlike the others, the experiments they ran on you were forced.

As Natasha first laid her eyes on you, that cliché moment in movies where in the character's surroundings seem to slow down and the only thing you're focused on is that one particular person-

She didn't believe in that shit. She would scoff and roll her eyes whenever she saw a scene like that.

But it happened to her. She hated it and would've accused you for taking her breath away.

"Yeah. Natasha Romanoff." She curtly extends a hand for you to shake and you smile at her, taking it.

And for a while she ignores you while simultaneously looking you up behind your back.

Why would someone like you, a genuine and beautiful ray of sunshine, want anything to do with someone like Natasha?

She's terrified of the thought of what your reaction would be if you realize what she'd done in the past. Ah, her past, something she isn’t proud of.

You finally confront her one day, hating how you seem to get a long with everyone just fine except her.

Your real reaction being, "we've all done something really bad that we regret. I mean, look at me, I was treated like a weapon for a quarter of my life and I can produce fire anytime, which I didn't ask for - sorry, I guess what I'm saying is, I don't think you're a bad person Natasha. You're here, aren't you? Saving people's lives? You're a better version of yourself, you're changing and if you ask me that's what really matters. Now, can we get some coffee?"

Natasha's been in love with you ever since.

And when I knock at a hundred and two, And I see your pajamas I can’t stop smiling at you

Natasha heard soft knocks outside her door one night. To be honest she'd be most likely to ignore the harsh and hard knocks, so she got up and made her way to open the door.

There you stood in your pajamas. You hate the matching ones, just like the pair you had on that night. But you also hate mismatching them. Natasha wouldn't admit to think that you look nice in them though. "Hi," you manage to say, avoiding looking her directly in the eyes since you already doubt she'd let you stay just this once. "I... uh, m'sorry for waking you up, Nat-"

While you find the words to say Natasha just observes - that's creepy - admires - she looks, she looks. You're clearly dying inside, probably regretting you knocked, the way you prefer looking at anything but her as you try and get words out, and how you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

"God, you know what? Never mind, I... I'm sorry for waking you up."

Before you could walk away Natasha opens her door wider, her face displaying full concern. "Hey, what happened?"

"It's nothing serious, I was just-"

"As your friend, I'm here for you no matter what," she wonders what'd it be like if it’s more than that. "Plus, I won't be able to go back to sleep either if you end up not telling me." She offers you a smile.

You sigh, looking her in the eye for the first time that night. "Had a nightmare. It was one of those kinds where I had no idea if I was gonna wake up from it - it was just - I feel like if I went back to sleep I'd see it again, you know?" You exhale, frowning.

She's glad you chose to show your vulnerable side to her, it just goes to show that you trust her that much, feeling like you could tell her anything.

You bite your lip, looking away. "I'm being such a baby about it, sorry-"

"Y/N," she states. "Stop apologizing and come here,"

Natasha motions you inside her room and almost immediately you latch yourself onto her, hugging her as you near the bed. It must've been bad, you seem shaken up about it.

You sigh in relief when Natasha pulls the covers over both of you, enveloping you into warmness.

Natasha lies beside you with her elbow propped up to look at you. "Do you... want to talk about it? Or I can put on a movie if you'd like."

You shake your head slightly, scooting near her. "I'm all good now."

Natasha's heart skips a beat, knowing that she's the one making you feel at ease, calm. She smiles and nods, turning to turn off the lamp.

Friends can cuddle, right? She wonders. She wants to wrap an arm around you more than anything but she feels that would be some sort of violation. So she hopes that the closeness of your bodies would be enough, for now. Hopefully.

I said “well I, I like the cut of your jib,”, “I like the way that your face looks when you're yapping on about him,”

Even though you were being affectionate with Natasha sometimes, you never returned her feelings.

Only a total asshole would hang around with someone often and do something that would cross that barrier, giving signs and subtle hints that you liked her, at least that’s what it looked like to Natasha but it ended up actually didn’t. Were you really the one to blame though? You have no idea Natasha likes you more than a friend.

Which lead you to making a very poor choice of opening up about someone you liked, to the one who liked you.

Natasha’s heart was racing when you mentioned you liked someone and planned to take them on a date, but you decided to go to her for advice first.

It was a fifty-fifty chance for her, really.

“I mean, she is very mysterious,” you thought while running your thumb across your bottom lip. “Wanda.”

From there, Natasha just tried to ignore the sudden ache in her chest, pulling herself together in your presence. Of course it wasn’t her, you would never like someone like her. Plus, it was expected. You and Wanda shared a few more things in common than Natasha.

Noticing that the redhead hasn’t spoken a word, you continue. “I’d like to get to know her better but... you’ve known her longer than me, right, Nat? I want her to be comfortable if I ever get to go out with her.”

She tried to swallow the lump on her throat subtly, avoiding your eyes. She wanted nothing more than to walk away, out of anybody’s sight so no one could see her mercilessly destroy anything in her sight.

“You don’t need to,” she finally replies. “You could watch her favorite sitcoms together and you’ll win her over.”

“Sitcoms?”

“She likes them.”

You pout, pondering about the idea further while Natasha sighs to herself.

And after you excuse yourself to talk to the young witch, Natasha wastes no time to head to her floor to have some well deserved alone time to herself and mope, telling herself that she doesn’t and never will deserve someone like you.

But on this shirt I found your smell I just sat there for ages Contemplating what to do with myself

You and Natasha are both lucky to have each other on the team. The both of you are a match made in heaven on the battlefield, you have each other's backs.

"So... that went well," you state, referring to the mission, putting your hands on your hips as Natasha packs her stuff to get ready to leave for the next day. You bite the inside of your cheek, cursing yourself for packing lightly. "Can I borrow a shirt?"

Natasha just finished showering, now in the process of doing her usual routines before going to bed. She grabs a shirt from her closet and pulls it on.

She sighs exhaustedly, running her fingers through her hair. The fact that the shirt she put on was the same one you borrowed from her that day doesn’t click immediately.

But when it does,

"Fuck."

Natasha told herself to slowly move on because a more-than-friends relationship with you is not happening.

Well, not that she's ever told you directly that she's in love with you, but she can take a hint. You clearly aren’t interested.

And now she sits there alone with a shirt that fucking smells like you, her favorite person. At that moment she wants to just march over to your room and confess.

Trying to move on isn’t a good look on her, key word: trying to.

You’re something else. No one's made her feel this way before.

I called you up at a hundred and two, We just sat there for ages Talking about that boy who was getting on to you

You just might be the most oblivious idiot ever.

Because after your first, second date with Wanda you still failed to notice the changes in Natasha’s mood. You should know, you considered her your best friend, but being with Wanda became your priority ever since you pulled off impressing her on the first date.

Instead of letting you be, Natasha had to call you. At the time you were on your break, taking time off out of the compound. She just wanted some sort of closure at least, wasn’t even sure if that’s what to call it considering you both would still be friends, but she needed it.

“Hey, I won’t take up too much of your time,” she starts, but you immediately bombard her with what happened with your day with Wanda.

Natasha bites her lip as you do, every little thing you mentioned that she could only imagine doing with you sends her heart throbbing. But at the same time she’s happy for you. She simply loved seeing you happy.

“I couldn’t have managed to do any of it let alone talk to Wanda without your help. Thanks, Nat,” she smiles sadly at your words, completely scrapping the thought of confessing her feelings to you. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. “We should hang out when I get back. I miss you.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t, I... I’m being sent off for a mission soon,” she blinks back the tears and she could’ve sworn the ache she felt just got worse. Before she could utter another word, you sigh.

“Oh. I’ll see you when you get back, then?”

“I guess.”

When the call ends she goes to her messages to type out the things she’s been dying to say. She’ll be gone when you get back, she won’t have to face you once you’ve read it. After everything I still love you. It’s been too long, you deserve to know.

272 notes · View notes

angstyaches · 2 years

Note

ooh let’s have some fluff to welcome you back!!

i have a very very specific scenario in my mind (that Im not even sure fits into the timeline?) but you can tweak it however you want obviously

so it’s elliot, felix, charlie and shayne chilling at the Aldridge’s house, ya know, being a family, banter and teasing and stuff, BUT here’s the thing, this is mid elliot transformation so he’s feeling pretty nauseous here, but the thing is, he’s been sick so often recently that both him and felix are kinda used to it, so they just,, sort of acknowledge that elliots gonna throw up soon but never make a big deal out of it? So it’s more like,,, absent comfort from felix? Kinda like that distracted caretaker prompt list. Like they’re just talking and suddenly elliot just gets up and it’s like “yup it’s gonna happen brb” except when he comes back the vibes changed slightly because hes now Exhausted and felix is sympathetic?

I know you said detailed but I think this is too much afsdgha🍄

I'm not 100% happy with how this came out, I'm sorry if it sucks! It's another weird weekend for my brain.

Word Count: 2343

CW: vampire transformation, nausea, stomach ache, belching, insults/banter.

___

Somewhere nearby, a film was playing. A fire was gently crackling in the grate. The lights were dimmed and the curtains were pulled shut against the greying evening and the rain that pattered lightly against the windows of the townhouse.

Elliott could hear all of these things in far too much detail. He was beginning to wonder if his heightening senses were contributing to the nauseous spells that continued to plague him.

He could only hope that everything wouldn’t always be so overwhelming.

His eyes were shut, which was probably making his ears even sharper. He was slumped low on the larger sofa, head tilted back against the cushions. Felix’s shoulder was pressed lightly against him, and they each had a hand resting on the other’s thigh.

Before he’d closed his eyes, Elliott had been aware of the way Charlie and Shayne were basically tangled up in each other on the other sofa, and he’d wondered if Felix would have preferred something like that, but… there was the occasional ominous gurgle in Elliott’s stomach that suggested he was better off in a position conducive to a speedy getaway.

“A fun fact about this film,” Felix announced, his voice cutting through every other sound that was assaulting Elliott’s head, “is that I first saw it when I was… I suppose I was twelve? And…”

Elliott’s eyes may have been closed, but he could picture the exact face Felix would have been making at that moment; eyebrows raised, one edge of his mouth slightly raised. It made me realise…

“It made me realise I was bi.” The statement came out sounding like a brag, like Felix had deciphered the meaning of life and was gracing everyone in his presence with his newfound wisdom. “My bisexual awakening was to this movie.”

“Okay, what?” Shayne murmured, sounding as though he was half-asleep. “I’m – I’m sorry, but which guy made you realise that?”

Felix gave a gentle laugh. “So, it’s not obvious?”

It may not have been obvious to everyone, but Elliott knew the answer. He wasn’t about to chime in, though. Even if he’d been feeling well, he’d never interrupt Felix while he was talking about Interview with the Vampire. That was one sure-fire method of losing one’s cuddling privileges.

A sudden wave of heat in his stomach caused Elliott to swallow harshly. False alarm. He had no bucket close to hand; he’d have preferred to stick his hand in the fireplace than give himself the option of throwing up in front of Charlie and Shayne. If needs be, he knew he could run and make it to the downstairs bathroom before disaster struck Nancy’s precious upholstery.

The contents of his belly, currently, were a small amount of water to make sure he didn’t dehydrate, and a quarter-cup of blood – LMD, to be specific. Ryan had assured him that human blood was much easier to stomach on top of nausea. Elliott wasn’t so convinced. The last thing he’d swallowed was one of Nancy’s tonics, one that she’d claimed would relax the muscles in his digestive system and ease the spasms; that was, of course, if his system would relax enough to absorb it. So far, he was thinking no.

“Was it Brad Pitt?” Charlie asked.

Felix chuckled. “Nope.”

Elliott braced himself for another sickly lurch in his gut, this time making sure to swallow a lot more steadily. He could feel himself losing the battle, but it wasn’t the end yet. Felix must have sensed the shift in his posture, because his fingers traced reassuring little circles into his leg where his hand rested.

“The other guy, then?” Shayne asked.

“Tom Cruise,” Charlie filled in.

Yep, Elliott thought. He didn’t need to be looking at the TV to refresh his memory of the fictitious blonde vampire.

“Yep!” Felix chirped. “I don’t even like Tom Cruise in any other film, so it was absolutely the character, and not the actor.”

Elliott lifted one hand to his mouth, feeling his stomach churn slowly inside of him before giving a sharp twist. Felix’s hand stopped rubbing his leg, in favour of giving it a gentle squeeze instead.

“Wait. So, the blonde guy?” Shayne murmured, to which Charlie responded, “Yes.”

“I suppose, in a way, if I hadn’t seen this film…” Felix went on, his hand moving back up to Elliott’s hair now.

Elliott exhaled slowly. His jaw started to tremble. I wouldn’t have been so prepared when –

“I wouldn’t have been so prepared,” Felix half-laughed, as though the thought had just occurred to him, when Elliott knew for a fact that it hadn’t, “when what happened to Louis basically happened to me. You know?”

“So, Louis is the blonde guy?” Shayne asked.

Elliott almost rolled his eyes, but knew Felix probably had him covered.

“No, no, Louis is Brad Pitt,” Charlie quickly said.

“The brown-haired guy?”

“Yes,” Felix chimed in. “He’s Louis, and Tom Cruise’s character is called Lestat.”

Shayne loudly clicked his tongue. “Why would they give them both names that both start with L? That’s just fucking confusing.”

“It’s based on a book,” Felix shot back in a soft voice. “The screenwriters didn’t choose the names.”

“Wait, so –” Charlie cleared his throat. There was the sound of straining leather, as though he was rearranging himself on the other couch. Elliott even thought he heard Shayne let out a groan, like he’d been elbowed or leaned on. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that story, Felix.”

“It’s not that similar,” Shayne muttered.

“Hey!” Felix’s posture straightened as he protested. “There are similar aspects! Like –”

Elliott suddenly burped against his own hand, his stomach echoing the sound with a deep, sloshy grumble. Felix fell silent, and so did the rest of the room, aside from the TV. Elliott pried his eyes open to look across at Charlie and Shayne; Charlie had one arm on the armrest, chin propped up by the heel of his hand, with Shayne’s head on his chest.

They were both eyeing him warily, just as he was sure that Felix was doing from above.

“Sorry,” he murmured, folding his arms across his chest and settling his head against the back of the sofa again. “Continue.”

“I’ll tell you the story another time,” Felix told Charlie, his voice lower than before. “Watch the film. I think you two will enjoy it.”

Felix wriggled about gently, as though trying not to disturb Elliott’s position, and curled one arm over the back of the couch. His fingers brushed delicately against the back of Elliott’s head, eventually curling deeper into his hair and smoothing down its silky length. It was stupidly long these days, but Felix seemed to like it.

Every so often, Elliott could tell that Felix was holding his breath for a few seconds, and he felt a tingle in his chest as though his face was being looked at. He squeezed Felix’s knee, just a short, pulsing motion to reassure him.

After about fifteen minutes had passed without anybody speaking over the movie, Elliott’s eyelids twitched. There was a weird crackle of tension in the room. He pried one eye open the barest amount. Charlie and Shayne were still in his line of vision; Charlie seemed enthralled by the movie, but Shayne was looking right at Felix and mouthing… something.

Elliott’s heart dropped.

Is he okay?

Shayne was asking Felix if he was okay.

Elliott felt Felix give a gentle shrug; if he hadn’t had context, Elliott mightn’t have even read into the shift in his partner’s body. His insides burned with extra queasiness at the concept of being talked about from across the room.

With one eye open to the narrowest slit, Elliott saw Shayne lift a hand up to his own mouth, mimicking the act of throwing up.

“I can see you, fuckface,” Elliott muttered, opening both eyes the rest of the way.

“Oh.” Shayne pressed his lips together and tilted his head, meeting Elliott’s gaze. “Doin’ okay there, old man? Need someone to take you to your coffin?”

Elliott grunted. He was in no mood to whip up a witty response. ‘Fuckface’ alone had almost done him in. “Yeah, well, you’re… short.”

“Hey!” Felix exclaimed, his gentleness momentarily abandoned. “I’m shorter than him, Elli!”

“Yes, but you’re cute, and you don’t annoy the shit out of me.” Elliott managed a weak smile as he closed his eyes. “Not as often, at least.”

“Jeez, thanks, darling,” Felix murmured, scratching lightly at Elliott’s scalp. Elliott reckoned he’d have gotten a lot more verbal protesting from Felix, if Felix hadn’t been somewhat clued-in to how awful he was feeling. He’d pay for it later, maybe, but for now, he’d enjoy these subtle shows of affection.

“Oh…” Shayne clicked his fingers after nobody said anything for a few minutes. “I get it now.”

Felix’s fingers slowed to a stop as he became distracted again. “Get what, bud?”

“This Lestat guy is an asshole, right? And you had a crush on him, Fee, so that explains…” Shayne gestured towards Elliott. “You know.”

“Lestat,” Felix hissed, his voice strangely low, “is not an asshole. He is complex and misunderstood.”

Elliott didn’t have time to wonder why his partner was jumping to defend a fictional character, instead of his non-fictional life companion, because that was when a strained, sickly groan rang out in the room. Maybe it was just that Elliott’s senses were going haywire, but it seemed as though it was louder than the audio of the movie.

Elliott’s eyes flew open, darting once over the room as though there could be some other explanation for it; a wild animal loose in the house, a faulty fixture about to give out. When he was hit with a cramp that made his breath hitch, he couldn’t convince himself that it’d been anything other than his stomach losing the battle with his nausea.

If Felix realised things were escalating as they were, he was acting very nonchalant about it. His fingers were still carefully working through Elliott’s hair.

Elliott shifted so that he was leaning over his knees, eyes glazed as he stared at the floor.

“Oh,” Felix said softly. His hand hovered near Elliott’s head as it lifted from his lap. “Is it…?”

Elliott pressed the side of his fist against his mouth to stifle the deepest burp yet, feeling the air rush and churn through his insides. His belly felt so heavy, like it was filled with bricks. The mental image didn’t exactly make him feel better about what he was about to do.

“Yeah,” he forced out, voice thick. He felt Felix take his other hand. “It’s about that time.”

“I’ll come with you –” Felix was already getting to his feet.

“No, no. Watch your movie. I’ll probably be back in a few minutes.”

Felix gave a tiny whimper of protest, but sat back down.

___

Elliott was shaking after, and he cursed his stupid hands as he cupped them under the tap and lapped up a few mouthfuls of cold water. His insides felt the cold more intensely these days. He supposed his throat and stomach were constantly expecting blood, hot and fresh from the vein, not water straight from a pipe. He tried not to think about the liquid trickling into his disturbed stomach; it’d just stopped flipping itself like a pancake.

He eyed the stairs with weary desire as he wandered back into the darkening hallway. Felix wouldn’t be mad if he abandoned the movie and went on up to bed, and Jesus, did bed sound like absolute bliss over the chaos that was happening on the other side of the door to the front room.

And yet, with his brain fogged with exhaustion, he found himself heading back through that door.

All eyes had been watching the movie, but quickly shot to him.

“Again,” he mumbled, “don’t mind me.”

Charlie abruptly did as he was told. He and Shayne had swapped positions since Elliott had left; Charlie was lying on Shayne now. Shayne looked back towards the movie a second or two after Charlie did. The overall atmosphere in the room left no doubt in Elliott’s mind that he’d been talked about in his absence.

He could feel Felix watching his every step as he came back to their sofa. A sympathetic smile spread across the smaller boy’s face as he patted the cushions and opened his arms for Elliott to sink into.

As he leaned into the embrace, Elliott ventured a glance towards the TV screen. Louis and Claudia seemed to be meeting Armand for the first time, but the colours and lights still felt like tiny explosives repeatedly hitting Elliott in the corneas.

The little groan that escaped his throat was involuntary.

Felix pressed a kiss to his cheek, then leaned back to examine his face. The little crinkle of concern between his eyebrows never failed to make Elliott’s heart flutter. He carefully held his breath and allowed his head to tip downwards into Felix’s lap. He hummed in trepidation as the ache in his stomach throbbed, and curled his legs up loosely on the sofa cushions.

Felix touched Elliott’s head as he picked up on the anxious sound he’d made.

Elliott peered up at his partner from below. He let himself smile at the way Felix's fingers felt in his hair.

The crinkle between his eyebrows didn’t soften, but Felix’s eyes brightened at the smile. His fingers lightly tugged a lock of hair loose and began to twirl it.

Elliott shut his eyes again.

Somewhere nearby, a movie continued to play. Felix made little comments here and there, educating Shayne and Charlie on the significance of his favourite parts. Shayne told him to shut up at one point, but Felix didn’t. Somewhere nearby, the rain continued to fall and the fire burnt itself out, but Elliott didn’t focus on anything but the lap under his cheek and the fingers in his hair.

#StW Elliott #sickfic #vampire sickfic #emeto #emeto fic #emeto sickfic #OC emeto #OC sickfic #vampire emeto #vampire OC

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 2 years

Text

Holiday Traditions- happyaspie

No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated G || Word Count 4995 || May Parker (Spider-Man) & Morgan Stark (MCU) & Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark

Part 4 of the Where There's Love There's Family series

Summary: When a brief misunderstanding leaves Morgan thinking that Peter doesn’t like Christmas, Peter decides that it would be fun to teach her more about Hanukkah. In order to do so, he and May invite the Starks' to share in some of their holiday traditions.

[This story is part of a post-Endgame AU. However, it can easily be read on it's own!]

artwork by happyaspie

click for better quality

[Author's Note AND Except Below the Cut]

Author's Note

Last year, as I read through all of the various Irondad and Spiderson holiday fanfiction, I noticed a distinct lack of prevalence when it came to Peter Parker celebrating Hanukkah. That was something that I found interesting because in the comics, it is often and heavily hinted that Peter is Jewish. At that point, I knew I wanted to contribute a Jewish Peter Parker story. However, being as I am not Jewish and my only experience was Hanukkah was a single (but very memorable) evening spent sharing traditions with some friends, I wasn't sure how I wanted to go about it.

So, I sat on the idea for a year. During which time, I spent quite a bit of time reading about some of the various ways that different people chose to celebrate Hanukkah and how some families were able to incorporate both Christmas and Hanukkah into their traditions. I started to write this story at the beginning of November and then, hesitated once I made it three-quarters of the way through, as I was suddenly filled with doubt. I didn't want to say or do, or perpetuate the wrong ideas. But with the support of some friends, I realized that this is okay. What I've written may not reflect a universal point of view or touch on every single tradition but it's a good representation of how the Starks' and the Parkers' specifically, could navigate being a family of mixed beliefs.

Excerpt

“Thanks for the ride, Happy!” Peter shouted as he stepped out of the car and looked towards the Stark’s cabin. The trees that framed the yard were nearly bare and swayed gently as the crisp winter wind blew past them. He took a deep breath, pulling the fresh air into his lungs and smiled. It smelled like snow.

After twisting his hat down a little further over his ears, Peter marched up the path that led to the front door and turned the knob to let himself in. It was too early for Pepper to be home from the office. Although he was sure Tony would be there, probably in the garage and Morgan in the living room waiting for him.

“Pete! You’re home!” Morgan shouted the moment he’d stepped foot inside, making his heart swell.

“Yeah, Mo. I’m home,” he said, bracing himself for the impact as the little girl plowed into him. “And I heard there was a really big Christmas tree you wanted to show me,” he added once he’d knelt down to meet her at her height.

“I did but my Daddy said you don’t like Christmas,” Morgan pouted. “So I won’t show it to you if you don’t want me to.”

Peter pulled his brows together in thought as his heart sunk down to his stomach. He was a little hurt by Morgan's reaction and more than a little confused about what Tony could have told her. It didn’t make any sense. Tony had always been considerate of his Jewish heritage in the past. He’d even modified the name of the Stark Industries Christmas Party to the Stark Industries Holiday Party just to include him. They’d not thoroughly discussed it much beyond that. It simply didn’t come up.Then he’d disappeared for five years thus eliminating any opportunity for a conversation of that nature to arise. Though it had never felt necessary. Tony respected him, cared about him, and he knew that hadn’t changed. As such, he was having a difficult time wrapping his brain around what Tony could have said to make Morgan think he didn’t like Christmas. It had to have been a misunderstanding.

“Pete?” Morgan asked with a curious tilt of her head and that was enough to draw Peter out of his thoughts. However, he still wasn’t sure how he wasn’t sure how to go about repairing whatever misinformation Tony had hopefully, unintentionally given her.

“Well,” he said, gathering a deep breath in order to give himself another few seconds to formulate a response. He wanted to choose his words carefully. “It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. I just don’t celebrate it. I’m Jewish so I celebrate other things. Like Hanukkah instead. But that doesn’t mean I’m not excited to see your tree or that I don’t want to listen to you talk about Christmasy stuff,” he explained with a smile.

Morgan nodded in minor understanding and smiled broadly as she seized Peter by the hand. “Come on, Pete! We have the biggest Christmas tree ever! You have to see it!” she shouted as she dragged him into the large living room. He had to admit it was a very big, elaborate tree. It nearly rivaled the one that sat in the middle of time square.

The day went on as usual beyond that. He played with Morgan, worked with Tony in the garage and when evening came, helped Pepper in the kitchen. However, Morgan’s words accompanied throughout each activity. He tried to ignore them, to write the whole thing off as a childish mix up but he couldn’t seem to stop the niggling at the back of his mind.

Once Pepper had carried Morgan upstairs to put her to bed for the night, Peter found himself alone on the couch with his mentor turned father figure. The television was playing in the background, but he’d lost track of what was playing. He was far more interested in trying to sort through his own thoughts. He sighed and pulled his bottom lip briefly between his teeth before turning towards the man he’d grown to see as a father. “Hey, Tony?” he asked. “Why would you tell Morgan that I don’t like Christmas?”

“I didn’t?” Tony replied in question. Then he tipped his head to the side as he waited for Peter to elaborate.

“Well, what did you tell her? Because she said you told her that I don’t like Christmas and thought I wouldn’t want to see any of the decorations,” Peter replied with more passion than he’d meant to. But he’d been stewing on the subject for hours and was prepared to put the entire incident to rest.

Tony sighed and flipped the television off so he could offer his undivided attention. “I didn’t tell her that you don't like Christmas. I told her that you don’t celebrate Christmas. I tried to explain why, but I guess she wasn’t listening,” he apologetically explained. “Sometimes she just clings to the first thing we say to her and doesn’t really stick around to pay attention to the rest. I should have gone back to the subject later to make sure she understood but I didn’t. That’s on me. I shouldn’t have dropped the ball like that,” he expanded, then pressed his lips together and released a breath before glancing towards the top of the stairs.There was light still shining into the hallway from his daughter’s bedroom, which meant there was still time to hopefully repair the damage he’d caused. “Should we go up and talk to her about it before she goes to bed?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders and leaned back onto the cushions. “I guess I kind of already did,” he quietly spoke. “I told her I’m Jewish, and I mentioned Hanukkah. But as soon as I told her that I would always be happy to listen to her talk about Christmas, she got excited and sort of yanked me into the living room,” he said, smiling a little as he thought about how the little girl's face had brightened at that moment.

“That sounds about right,” Tony chuckled. “You know she’s nothing if not enthusiastic and she tends to be a bit on the bossy side. Personally, I blame Pepper,” he said with a wink of his eye. “But she continues to insist that I’m the problem. Something about passing along my ‘Stark genes’ but whatever.”

Peter laughed too and after that, the room grew quiet. Tony turned the television back on, and Peter returned to his thoughts. Having a better understanding of what had been said to Morgan helped him to feel a bit better about the situation but it continued to weigh on him. He wanted his second family, his sister in particular, to have a better understanding of the traditions that he held so closely to his heart. So, he waited for Pepper to join them and then gathered a deep reassuring breath.

“Hey, guys?” he began, waiting for both adults to acknowledge him before nervously moving towards his question. “Can I- would it be okay if I taught Morgan about Hanukkah? I mean, I understand if you don’t want me too. I’m not trying to confuse her or anything I just- it’s really important to me and I guess I just really want to share it with her. All of you really but-” he rambled until Tony placed his natural hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Yes, Buddy. Of course,” Tony said, laughing and jerking his hand back when Peter licked it. He halfheartedly glared for a split second as he wiped the spit off onto his jeans. “First of all, Gross. Why are kids so gross?” he rhetorically questioned but refocused quickly. “You’re her brother, Pete. I think she would be thrilled to learn about how you celebrate the holidays.”

[Continue Reading on AO3]

#happyaspie writing #happyaspie art #irondad and spiderson #iron family #jewish peter parker #hanukkah #blended family #peter parker #tony stark #morgan stark #may parker #pepper potts #spider-man #iron man #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #tw religion

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lynnpaper · 3 years

Note

idk if you’re still taking prompts but if you are: can you do “there’s something on your shirt. you—that’s blood!” and/or “let’s get you cleaned up and in bed” with anakin and ahsoka?? 💖💖💖💖 love your hurt/comfort with these two

from these prompts

i can, i hope, do that. 💕

read it on AO3

The gunship jolts and Ahsoka stumbles, her knuckles whitening as she grips the handhold tighter. She is nowhere as tall as the clones or her master—her arm aches where she has to stretch to reach it.

Too long—they’ve been here too long. Haven’t slept for too long. Haven’t eaten for too long.

“Careful,” Anakin says. He places a hand on her shoulder, as if it will steady her at all. If he looks hard enough, he can almost see her adrenaline crashing, see the exhaustion sinking into her bones with every passing second.

Hold on, he thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud, because of course Ahsoka doesn’t want the rest of the 501st to hear the admission that she’s only barely holding it together right now. The last thing she needs is a group of overprotective vod’e fawning over their little commander, or having to witness Anakin literally tear her out of their overprotective arms.

Not that she wouldn’t appreciate it, but—

The gunship jolts again. Ahsoka winces, staggering in place. Before she can lose her grip on the handhold, an arm slides its way around her waist, tugging her against a solid, warm body, still smelling of scored carbon and engine grease and ozone.

Anakin keeps his eyes trained on the wall opposite, but Ahsoka looks at him gratefully, leaning into his side.

Then the brightness of the hangar sparks a new headache behind her eyes, and she’s walking down the ramp on shaky legs, and one of her sabers is bumping against a bruise on her thigh which isn’t as painful as it should be. She stands beside Anakin with her hands clasped behind her back (to hide the way they tremble, of course) as he debriefs his men and gives the final orders for ship maintenance and repairs, but nothing truly sticks.

She counts to four-hundred-and-twenty-seven before Anakin turns to look at her at last.

“Ahsoka?” he presses. He raises a hand and snaps it a couple times in front of her face.

Ahsoka sways a little, blinking dazedly, and Anakin wraps his hands around each of her arms before she can topple.

He slowly leads her back to his quarters, a palm pressed between her shoulder blades. It must be a little uncomfortable; cold durasteel under a glove. But when Anakin takes his hand away in the middle of a crowded corridor, she stops and looks up at him with a puzzled expression, and it is only when he replaces it and gently nudges her forward again that she gathers enough thought to move her legs once more.

The realisation hits him far too slowly—that he overlooked this, that she’s so tired that she’s conserving her strength just to walk, and he’d gone ahead and yelled at her to keep up while blaster bolts rained down on them from all different directions.

Anakin leaves her halfway to unconsciousness on the couch in his quarters. He finds clothes for her in her room, padawan tunics and robes she never wears, in a drawer she never touches. Ahsoka would never ask for him to take the trouble, or to go out of his way to coddle her, except he’s not—it’s not coddling. And it’s no trouble at all.

When he returns, she hasn’t moved at all, save for her head slumped against the armrest.

It must be a violation of multiple galactic laws to wake her.

Anakin taps her shoulder once, twice. Ahsoka scrunches her face in displeasure before turning her head away and sluggishly blinking awake again. Her gaze lands on the bundle of clothes under his arm, and Anakin can almost feel the needle of guilt worming its way into her chest.

Anakin searches her vacant expression for any sign of his words registering at all, and finds none.

He hopes she doesn’t hear him sigh inwardly. “Lets clean you up and get you to bed, okay?”

Ahsoka nods faintly.

Maybe he should be concerned that she does not protest when he all but drags her to his room, retrieves a damp washcloth from the fresher, and sits on the edge of the bed so he’s level with her before wiping the dirt and grime from her face. Ahsoka keeps her eyes trained on the far wall, closing them when the cloth brushes too close to her eyelids, flinching when it rubs against the cut on her brow—which he’d missed previously, because it had been obscured by more dirt.

Anakin sighs.

Ahsoka shies away, pushing at his hand weakly. Force, if he doesn’t want to waste his time doing this then he shouldn’t. She can manage herself—

“Hey,” Anakin says sternly, catching her wrist.

She risks a glance up at him, tracking the bits of dirt staining the cloth in his hand, and a more vibrant spot of almost-dry blood. The last thing she wants is for Anakin to be acting out of a… misguided sense of duty, or something.

“Stop that,” Anakin says.

Ahsoka huffs.

“You’re thinking very loudly.” Anakin gently turns her head with a finger against her jaw, rubbing at a spot on her lek, and she shivers. “Okay?” he asks, gentler this time.

Ahsoka nods. The washcloth touches her face once more.

Anakin loses track of how long his padawan stands there, dead on her feet. At some point her fingers close around his arm as her legs threaten to give out again, and he pulls her forward as gently as he can, trying to remember how they got here in the first place.

The clasp on her belt is easy to undo, but he knows she would probably fumble with it in her state. Anakin debates helping her peel off the rest of her clothes altogether, stained with the red dust from the ground of the planet they’d come from.

But—yes. No. Yes. Her dignity can wait, he thinks. Sleep cannot, and neither can his nerves. It’s not selfish, he tries to convince himself, that he wants her to be clean and comfortable before she sleeps— and she doesn’t have to be clean to be comfortable, but it certainly helps—

Anakin reaches for the fabric bunched at her waist before his mind can go to battle with itself. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen it all already—there is no dignity in war, or in makeshift medbays on desolate planets, or in transparent bacta tanks. Still, he turns her around before pulling her tunic over her shoulders—if he can preserve a little bit of what they will all lose inevitably then he will—and looks away to take a clean tunic from the pile, keeping his hands far from her body as he hands it to her and she slips her arms through the sleeves.

Still, Ahsoka doesn’t complain or even try to cover herself—Anakin wonders if she even cares, and if it should worry him if she doesn’t. She’s a teenager, and teenagers are supposed to care about things like this.

But she will never really have a chance to be a teenager. She does not act like one at all, sometimes—a soldier, perhaps, but not a child.

It’s difficult to tamp down on the dread in his gut when he wraps a hand around her upper arm and his fingers very nearly overlap. Military rations will never be enough.

He turns her around again and she follows without thinking, and then there’s the warm numbness of bacta on the cut on her forehead and the soft familiarity of a palm on her cheek, and the resounding rush of warmth comes with a rush of momentary coherence.

Ahsoka blinks again, almost as if she’s blinking tears away, as if she is only now realising that the firm pressure on her back had been his palm, and the gentle nudges had been his hand, and the fleeting loneliness of Anakin leaving her in his quarters had only been an excuse for him to retrieve her kriffing clothes. “Master. I apologise, I—”

Oh, this again.

“Shh,” Anakin whispers.

“You don’t need to—”

“Quiet, Ahsoka.” I apologise is the first thing she’s said since they returned, and his chest tightens because it is, of course, an apology. Ahsoka only apologises when she has nothing else to say, or when she feels that she’s done something wrong—which she hasn’t—so really he should be the one apologising for taking forever to get to her in the first place—

“I’m sorry,” she says again, and a flicker of surprise flits across her face, as if she cannot believe the betrayal of her own voice against her.

“Boots,” Anakin replies, instead of it’s alright; don’t apologise; you’ve nothing to be sorry for.

Ahsoka tugs them off and dumps them unceremoniously at the foot of the bed. With the realisation of what she’s just done—as well as its implications—comes a confused frown, furrowing its way onto her brow. “Am I—” she glances around the room, like she hasn’t seen it a hundred and one times already. The weariness is back, ebbing from the curl of her fingers beside her aching thighs, slipping from the effort it takes to keep her eyes open.

“Yes,” Anakin says.

Her shoulders slump in relief.

It’s times like this that Anakin wishes he’d never lost his hand—pulling the blanket over her thighs, where he knows she very cleverly managed to hide a couple of bruises, as his palm lingers on her too-small shoulder. He wishes he could feel more than her pulse under the sensors of his durasteel fingers.

“Don’t need to fuss,” Ahsoka says distantly, more to herself than Anakin, who pulls the blanket over her shoulders just as she tucks her chin closer to her chest.

Tired, her mind supplies unhelpfully.

Anakin folds the blanket under her lek. “You did very well today,” he whispers.

It is one thing to understand she has done well. An undeniable claim, if the remnants of those droids littering the ground had anything to prove. But to hear it from him—

“Thank you,” Ahsoka says.

A heavy hand settles on her shoulder, over the blanket. The weight grounds her, the pillow a fraction softer under her mildly spinning head.

Ahsoka hums softly, lashes fluttering. You did very well.

I know, she thinks. I know.

#lynn writes #my writing #post-trauma sentence starters #snips and skyguy #hurt/comfort #writing prompts

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argylemnwrites · 2 years

Text

Celebrate Me Home

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, set almost 25 years after Why Are We Still Waiting?)

Word Count: ~2000

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: This Christmas comes with some new traditions for the Walkers, but others will always stay the same.

Author’s Note:So, instead of finalizing my next chapters of WAWSW? and FoF, I got bit with the holiday fic bug hard. So, both of those fics will be properly back in January, but until then, I hope you all will enjoy a FoF New Year’s fic next week and this Christmas fic set in the very distant future of the ICWAM universe. As mentioned above, this story is set 25 years in the future, so there is some tech mentioned that I don’t think is possible at this point, but hey! It’s the future - it could be a reality in a couple of decades, right hahaha?

I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas, or if that isn’t your December holiday, a calm and joyous time with family friends. I know that the world is in a rough place for most of us yet again, but I hope that you all had a moment or two that were worth celebrating.

Riley wasn’t usually one for sentimentality. It just had never been her style. But as she took in the array of decorations spread out on the card table in front of her, a wave of holiday nostalgia and memories washed over her.

There was the box of assorted cheap ornaments that she and Drake had picked up that first Christmas they had space for a tree after they moved to Brooklyn. The remaining glass balls had heat stains, any glitter had long since rubbed off, and probably only about a quarter of the ornaments were even left at this point, but they’d always found a spot for them on the tree. Then there was the wooden star topper that Drake had made for their first Christmas as a married couple, cut and sanded and stained bit by bit during trips down to the ranch. Next to it was the Christmas tree skirt that Hana had sewn and embroidered herself, names of family and friends shaped into evergreens.

Of course, Jackie’s creations took up the majority of the table. From her early childhood creations involving construction paper, glitter glue, and popsicle sticks, to her school-aged crafts including a cabin made out of pipe cleaners and a felt reindeer that had long been down to one googly eye, up to her teenage experimentation with different mediums ranging from sculpted clay Santa hats to beaded snowflakes to enamel on metal candy canes. It was a little like seeing her daughter grow before her eyes, both as a person and an artist. Twenty years of her work, evolving bit by bit, year by year.

She didn’t know why she was feeling so sentimental this year. This had been their family tradition for decades, Jackie even making them promise they wouldn’t decorate the tree until she got back starting her freshman year. And sure, they were down in Texas now, but it’s not like they never spent the holidays here when Jackie was growing up. Things weren’t that different.

Except they were. Before this year, none of these decorations had been anywhere other than Brooklyn. Hell, most of them had never left that two bedroom condo that was now another family’s home. It was like packing for the move all over again, and the emotions just hit her in an unexpected way. As she picked up a folded paper sled Jackie had sealed to preserve a few years back, she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help, Riley?” Bianca asked as she entered the room, leaning slightly against her walker.

Riley quickly ran her free hand over her cheek, grateful that Bianca’s eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. “No, I’m good. Jackie likes to help with the ornaments since she doesn’t have a tree in her apartment. I’m just getting things ready for her.”

“If you need more ornaments, I think Leona has a couple of boxes in the attic.”

“Yup, Drake and I got them down yesterday. We unwrapped them already - they’re over there,” she said, pointing to the coffee table covered with glass balls, various colors of bells, and a few ornaments that had to have been Savannah’s or Drake’s creations many decades earlier. There were a few of Jackie’s pieces there as well, gifts created for her grandmother and great aunt over the years.

“Oh, yes. Well, we have some Christmas lights you could use if you want some more.”

Riley suppressed a frown. Drake didn’t want to admit it, but his mother was definitely forgetting more things than could be attributed to just her age. “The wires were frayed, remember? So Drake threw them out and bought some new ones.”

“That’s right. Of course he did.”

The silence that followed was slightly awkward. Even after months of living here, it was still hard for Riley to find things to talk about with Bianca. And Riley knew that as strange as it was for her to be living on a ranch in Texas, it had to be so much weirder and harder for Bianca and Leona to have them there. Decades of daily rhythms thrown straight to hell with two extra bodies around the house. Having to face the fact that with aging, independence and self-reliance whittled away, to the point where your son and his wife had to move in with you.

“I hope you don’t mind that we’re putting out our decorations, too. We don’t want to-”

“Of course that’s fine, dear. More decorations just make things more festive! Hell, even Leona gets into the holiday spirit this time of year, and we both know that’s saying something.”

Riley smiled at her mother-in-law. At least she was still sharp enough to make some little quips.

“Anyway, I mainly came in here to let you know that Leona has a pot of her spiked cider going in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Bianca. I’ll probably wait until Jackie gets here. Drake messaged that they should be back in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, wonderful! Well, let me know when she gets here, dear. We’ll get her a mug, too.”

Riley watched as Bianca shuffled down the hallway. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to put on a chipper face for the holidays, or if she was more at peace with Drake and her living there than she had been originally. Regardless, Jackie’s presence would probably put everyone in better spirits. Even Leona had warmed to her over the years. Last time she’d been down to Texas, Riley had found the two of them hate-watching cooking shows together late at night, snarking about anything and everything.

Truth be told, Riley was feeling a little guilty about Jackie having to come down here for her holiday break. It was the first year that Jackie didn’t get to go “home” for Christmas, or at least not to the only home she’d ever known. And sure, she was gaining independence, moving off-campus for her junior year, renting an apartment, lining up a graphic design internship for the summer. Riley knew that it wouldn’t be long before Jackie had her own place she considered “home.” But right now, she was still a college student, and Riley just worried that the move was unfair to her daughter, leaving her feeling adrift and homeless, even if it really was their only option.

Lost in her own worries, she was startled by the flash of headlights in the window. Just a few moments later, Jackie strode through the door, wearing a loose flannel shirt and some light wash jeans. Her puffy brown winter coat was shoved in the top of her duffel bag, which was dumped by the door with her laptop bag as she threw her arms around Riley. Riley clutched her tightly, reaching up slightly to run her hand over the back of her head.

“Hey, Mom.”

“It’s so good to see you in person. How was your flight?” Riley asked as she pulled back, guiding Jackie onto the couch.

“Fine, napped most of the way,” she said as she leaned back, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the red streaks glowing warmly from the Christmas tree lights.

“Finals go okay?”

Jackie nodded as Drake walked through the door, the rest of her luggage in his hands. “Don’t leave your stuff where anyone could trip on it, kiddo,” he said, nodding his head towards her hastily deposited bags.

Jackie rolled her eyes, but pushed herself off the couch. “You gonna show me what room I should put my shit in, old man?” she teased as she bounded over and threw her bags back over her shoulders, prompting Drake to roll his eyes as well.

“Just because I didn’t know some of the musicians on your playlist does not make me-”

“You knew none of them! Not one! It was so pathetic, Mom.”

Riley chuckled as Jackie followed Drake up the stairs, teasing him as they went. A minute or so later, Drake came back downstairs, sinking onto the couch next to Riley with a sigh.

“She called you out on not keeping up with the latest musical trends, huh?”

Drake shook his head as his hand landed on Riley’s knee. “Among other things. Next time, you can pick her up from the airport. I swear she saves up a list of things to tease us about for months.”

“Who could have ever predicted that your daughter would be snarky and sarcastic?”

He chuckled as he gave her knee a squeeze. “Seeing as those traits come from you just as much as me, Liu, I think it’s only fair you share some of the payoff here.”

“Well, as soon as you finish teaching me to drive stick, that’ll be an option. But for now, I’ll just have to settle for her teasing here. Is she coming down soon? Bianca will want to see her, and Leona has cider going in the kitchen. Spiked, by the way.”

Drake nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. But yeah, she said she just had to grab something, and that she’d be right down.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, Jackie came racing down the stairs, a white box clutched in one hand. “So, I know I didn’t add any ornaments to the collection the last couple of years, but I figured this year deserved one. So here, before we start decorating,” she said, passing the box to Riley and Drake.

Riley opened the box and slowly pulled out a beautiful glass ornament, patches of green and blue that almost looked like-

“Is that a globe?” Drake asked, clearly seeing the same resemblance that Riley had noticed.

Jackie nodded. “Uh huh. This guy in my History of Media Art elective is mad into glass blowing, so I had him help me make this. But look.” Jackie reached down and flipped a switch along the ornament topper, illuminating several fiber optic strands. One glowed in eastern Europe, close to the Mediterranean, clearly in the vicinity of Cordonia. Two were close to each other in the northeastern United States, obviously representing New York City and Providence. And one last fiber lit up central Texas.

“Yeah, I thought it would be good to represent all the key locations for our family. And if I move somewhere else when I graduate, I have an extra cable strand in there that I can wire into the battery pack.”

Riley felt Drake clutch her knee a little tighter as she swallowed, trying not to cry. “It’s spectacular, sweetie.”

“It really is, kiddo.”

There wasn’t much else to say. Jackie was their daughter, and much like both of them, she was never going to be one who liked to sit around talking about emotions and feelings. They were all basically of the opinion that actions speak louder than words and whatnot. But this ornament said so many things that they all were feeling about the move. And while she missed their life in New York and knew that Jackie probably missed having a home to go back to there as well, they were still connected, bonded no matter where they were living. And as the light in Cordonia reminded them, the bonds of love and family had always bridged wide distances when it came to their lives. Texas was just another piece in the puzzle.

Drake pushed off the couch and wrapped Jackie in a hug as Riley stood and gently placed the newest ornament on the card table, one more snapshot both into their daughter’s growth and the lives they had built together. She hugged Jackie as well, then slung an arm across her shoulder, guiding her towards the kitchen.

“Come on, let’s have you say ‘Hi’ to your grandmother and Aunt Lee before we start decorating.”

“Thanks for waiting for me with the ornaments.”

“Of course, Jackie. It’s our family’s tradition.”

And so, the three of them moved down the hall. This Christmas was going to be different from what they were used to, that was for sure. But they were together, and at the end of the day, that was the truly important part.

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @gkittylove99 @ladyangel70 @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake x MC: @walkerdrakewalker @petiteboheme @mskaneko

ICWAM: @sunnyxdazed @thequeenofpixels

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trr au fanfic #the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices fanfiction

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lcksndkys · 3 years

Text

Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: 1,474

A/N: This piece was written as part of the btsghostiewriters drabble marathon!! Dialogue prompt #3: “Do you take constructive criticism?” “I only take cash.” Enjoy and feel free to talk to me about it! I'd love to hear what you think!! As usual, s/o to my peoples @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the support and encouragement!! Also, the song is Permission by Ro James.

Summary: Hoseok wants to audition for a position as an exotic dancer at The Pied Piper, a new strip club that provides entertainment for all. He wants your opinion of his routine. Except, you’ve been silently harboring a tiny (re: massive) crush on your friend.

You accidentally tell Hoseok you don’t find him sexy.

01, 02

"You wanna strip?" you ask, cocking a brow.

“I need the job,” Hoseok explains. “I wanna buy Dynamite from Sejeong Hyung and run my own dance studio. Plus, it's not stripping, it's called exotic dancing.”

“What about a loan?” you try to counter, ignoring the second part of his claim.

“I wouldn’t even qualify for one big enough for Dynamite. This job will pay well enough to cover whatever expenses are left over after the loan” he continues.

The new strip club, The Pied Piper, provides entertainment for all and is currently hiring male exotic dancers. According to Hoseok, the type of dancing is sensual, but classy. He even pulled up a video advertisement to show you proof.

He sets his laptop on the ground in front of the two of you and presses play.

The characteristic beats of a familiar song ring through the air. Pony, how cliché. You watch the men on the screen gyrate their hips along to the beat of the greasy song, body-rolling around the stage in nothing but their fitted jeans. The physique of each man is eye catching to say the least.

The choreography is complex with each dancer making small stylistic adjustments so that they look in sync, but not matching entirely. Clearly, many of them are classically trained and/or professionals.

Enraptured, you watch as their bodies move sensuously with the music. The clip shifts to one of the male dancers who pulls a woman on stage. A sparkling white and silver sash looped around her torso indicates she’s a blushing bride-to-be. She’s helped to a chair and approached by one of the dancers. Before the clip is over, Hoseok is closing his laptop and looking for your reaction.

“So, do you think I could do it?” he asks you eagerly.

You look into his hopeful eyes and your heart melts a little bit. He’s your Hoseok. Sweet, shy, sensitive, scared-of-everything Hoseok. You still remember how he cried when he was stung by a bee during dance camp in high school. How he has a 1.5 drink limit- half a drink better than when you both started college years ago. You try to imagine your friend dancing like the men you just watched on the screen.

“Well, those men- they’re really...” you struggle to find an appropriate term. You settle on “They’re really sexy” and then immediately regret your choice of words.

“You don’t think I’m sexy?”

Looking at Hoseok’s crestfallen face, you rapidly launch into damage control.

“I just mean- I’ve never seen you dance like that, Hobi”

There’s a few tense seconds of silence as Hoseok regards you before he slowly releases one long breath through his nose.

“I’ve been practicing,” he claims.

You swallow the lump in your throat at the dark look he’s suddenly giving you. It looks like danger.

Hoseok digs a folding chair out of the dingy closet of your modest dance studio. He drags it across the floor, props it open, and gestures for you to have a seat.

Sitting on the cold metal folding chair, you cross your arms and legs. You affix the carefully crafted neutral mask over your face. Secretly, you’re proud of your ability to hide the secret crush that has been quietly brewing over the last year.

“Can I show you what I’ve been working on?” he asks.

You nod your consent.

“Good. I’d like your feedback” he smiles.

You watch as Hoseok browses through his playlist and assume he’s looking for his audition song.

The sensuous music fills the little studio, echoing against the hard walls. The blank expression on your face hides the nervously pitter pattering of your heart.

With your permission

Tonight I wanna be a little me on you

Your skin prickles with heat as you watch Hoseok start to dance slowly to the beat. Limbs fluid with practice and hip swaying, you’re mesmerized by his movements.

He suddenly dives for the floor, twisting his body in a quarter turn mid-air, catching himself in a near handstand position before slowly lowering his chest, then pelvis to the floor. On hands and knees, his head swivels to make eye contact with you. He parts his legs, lowering his hips and thrusting against the ground making you gasp softly. Desire pools deep in your belly and for the first time in your life, you wish you were the flooring of this grimy, old studio.

Flipping over, Hoseok keeps his knees bent and plants his feet on the ground. Thighs spread wide, he bucks his hips up towards you. Your eyes follow the undulating of his hips as he pumps himself against the air.

Come on give me that green light

And you can let your hair hang down

But only if it feels right

You grit your teeth together to keep from panting.

He gracefully stands, adding a flourish to his movements, and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he approaches you.

At the last button, he sweeps open his top exposing the lithe planes of his chest and abdomen. Although not as muscular as the men in the video, his body is perfectly proportioned with well toned pecs and abs and delicate collarbones.

You gulp, hoping Hoseok hasn’t noticed how he’s affecting you. Watching him dance for you is alarmingly arousing.

There's a whole lot of motherfuckin' lovin' that's way past due

I owe you

With your permission

I'ma do all the things that I said I'm gon' do

Hands on your thighs, he uncrosses your legs then arms with a smirk. He straddles your lap and pulls your hands up to cup his ass.

You feel heat lick its way up your neck and cheeks.

This close up, you see every detail in Hoseok’s beautiful face. His perfectly sloped nose, the mole on his upper lip, every lash framing his usually warm eyes.

Encouraging you to hold onto him, he grinds his hips against you to the beat of the song. With both hands clutching his tight gluts, you can’t help but feel every sensuous movement of his pelvis. Your mind drifts to his stroke game, sending another wave of arousal through your core. He brings one hand to your neck, long fingers wrapping around you to lock your eyes together. The other holds onto the backing of the chair he is currently defiling you against.

Satisfied with your gaze, you feel him bury his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull, scratching luxuriously against your scalp and you nearly moan out loud. Instead you bite the inside of your cheek and hold your composure.

Your hands start to wander up the planes of his back and sides, feeling the bumps and grooves of muscle and bone.

Hoseok continues to fuck you against the chair until he draws a whimper from between your sealed lips.

He smiles in victory and buries his hand in your locks at the base of your skull and pulls. He noses along the column of exposed skin while he grinds against you making you shiver with need.

There's a tension, between us two

Red light special, girl you're special

You a blessing, so let me bless you

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back, eyes blackened with desire as he stares down at you.

Like magnets, you are drawn towards each other. Hoseok presses his soft lips against yours in a tender, chaste kiss- a stark contrast to the dirty grinding of his body against yours. Hand still in your hair, he tips your head to the side sending his tongue out to lap against the seam of your lips. You part for him feeling the warm, wet muscle glide into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs.

By the time he pulls back to study your reaction, you’re dazed and scrambling to find something coherent to say.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” you choke out, trying to sound casual.

“I only take cash” he quips back at you holding a hand out as if asking for a tip.

“Ok, well you probably shouldn’t kiss any of the patrons” you advise quietly thinking it was a planned part of his routine.

Disappointed by your seemingly lackluster reaction to his kiss, Hoseok pulls back from you dropping his hand from your neck.

“Is that all you have to say?” Hoseok grunts and climbs off you, no longer smiling.

“It’s just so cliché,” you try to explain.

“Yeah, well, so is falling for a friend” he throws back, hurt.

You gasp.

“I never-” you panic.

“- I wasn’t talking about you” Hoseok effectively cuts you off.

You swear your heart stops for a second as you process Hoseok’s words. You’re speechless as he quickly packs up his belongings and takes one last look at your bewildered face before he leaves you sitting in the middle of the studio.

#jung hoseok #hoseok fanfic #hobi fanfic #hoseok scenario #hobi scenario #dancer hoseok #dancer hobi #who would turn down a lapdace from hobi #not i #btsghostiemarathon

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