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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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A Fresh Start [6]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, but with like immediate follow up comfort, medical trauma? if you’ve ever been blown off by a doctor in the office and that frustrated you then be forewarned

Word Count: 5,119

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #06: TRIKAR’LA, BUIR!

Chapter Summary: Grogu goes to the doctor, and the Marshal decides he might need to murder said doctor. You get comforted by your boys.

"Watch carefully,

the magic that occurs,

when you give a person,

just enough comfort,

to be themselves."

- a t t i c u s

Nevarro didn’t have a large hospital. It had an emergency center and a clinic for routine appointments. Anything that couldn’t be healed or cared for within a day got transported to a nearby settlement on a neighboring world. Luckily, the transport time wasn’t very long, and Nima told you that the travel there wasn’t intense. The High Magistrate had worked out a deal to keep it that way.

Coming from a Level One Trauma Center on Coruscant, the office was shockingly puny. A simple two story building with emergency services on the first floor and routine medical care on the second. You had learned ages ago that the size of a medical center didn’t correlate to the kind of care a patient could receive. Some of the best physicians you’ve worked with came from smaller hospitals. You had no criticism there. The only thing that made you nervous was not having the kind of resources a Level One hospital would have. Coruscant had spoiled you in that sense.

For what had to be the hundredth time since leaving the station, you glanced over at Mando who walked right beside you. He held Grogu in his arms casually chatting with the boy. Grogu responded in a mix of Mando’a, Basic, and gibberish. It was painfully cute watching the Mandalorian interact with his son. Every inch of him screamed danger and intimidation, but the tender voice leaving his helmet’s modulator was nothing but soft and loving.

“Is something wrong?”

It took you a second to realize Mando was talking to you. “Hmm?”

“You keep looking over at me.”

You were getting pretty decent at reading Mando’s body language, and weirdly you could tell the difference between his head tilts. All of that, yet you still had a bad gauge on how far he could see out of his peripherals while wearing the helmet.

“Oh, er,” You scrambled for a response, “No. Nothing. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just checking on you.”

You opened your mouth but stopped yourself when you realized you were about to apologize for apologizing. Instead, you tried to steer the conversation away from your staring. “Do you know how many doctors work in Nevarro?”

“Not enough.” Mando replied. “Three rotate on the schedule right now, I think. Karga is still trying to recruit more, but until Nevarro really makes a name for itself it’s a hard sell.”

“It’s pretty impressive so far.” You motioned around to the clean and cheerful street surrounding you. “And growing fast.”

Mando nodded and your lips curled up in a smile as you watched him allow Grogu to crawl onto his shoulder and cling to his helmet. He kept one hand up just in case the child slipped. “Yes, but as always, it comes down to credits. Karga spent a lot to get this place built up. Doctors are expensive.”

“True, but if you’re gonna spend credits anywhere healthcare is a good bet.” You shrugged. “There are doctors out there who’ll take less pay to work somewhere rural. I⏤” You stopped yourself and at the sudden halt Mando glanced your way. You had nearly told him you once considered working in a rural setting. It hadn’t crossed your mind in ages, since before the incident, but you didn't think twice before nearly blurting it out. You cleared your throat. “I knew someone. From the clinic I worked in. They were specifically looking for a job somewhere rural.”

Mando nodded. “Maybe you should send their frequency number to Karga.” You forced out an awkward chuckle. “For now though, we have Bacta and cautery. You could probably find e-bacta if you asked the right people.”

“Spoken like a true bounty hunter.” You teased.

Mando let out a laugh and began to wrestle Grogu from the makeshift jungle gym of his shoulders and helmet. The clinic had come into view and you felt a ball of nervous energy begin to form in your chest. This wouldn’t be your first time in a medical facility since that night, but it would be your first time going willingly. All this morning, you hadn’t thought about it. You didn’t think this would bother you at all, but staring at the building now your mouth was becoming dry and your palms clammy.

The weight of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and your head snapped to the side to see Mando facing you. Nothing about his helmet looked concerning, but you could feel the worry radiating from him. “I’ve been calling your name. You didn’t answer.” Grogu hummed in his arms and tilted his head. “Are you sure everything is okay, cyar’ika?”

“Yes. Just...zoned out.” You tried to find an excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. So, you went for the next best thing. Topic change. “What does that word mean?”

“What?”

“The word you called me. Uh, ‘shar ekah’?” You repeated it best you could, but the word was always spoken so swift and softly that it was hard to remember the exact pronunciation. Saying ‘buir’ had been much easier.

Mando’s hand fell from your shoulder and his entire body went tense. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction. He let out a soft cough, and now it seemed like he was the one searching for something to say. Your distraction had been successful. However, now you were very curious as to what he was calling you. Mando didn’t seem like the type to secretly be calling you ‘dumbass’ all the time.

“It’s nearly 2.” He blurted. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Right!” You nodded. As curious as you were, you’d happily accept any advancement of this moment. Anything to avoid him asking you what was wrong again. He passed you to enter the building and you took in one last shaky breath before following.

The clinic’s waiting room was filled with children. This office saw patients of all ages, but with school starting up next week it seemed most families were doing exactly as Din was⏤ getting his child ready for day one. The schedule was running late so despite it being nearly half an hour past the appointment time, Din sat in the waiting room right beside you. Grogu had wiggled out of his lap to run around the room with other kids around his age. It made him nervous at first. He wanted his son to have friends to have fun to not ever feel left out, but the anxiety of him not fitting in was painful. You had reassured him that everything was fine, and you had been right. Grogu squealed and laughed as he played with three other kids.

Din was leaning back in his seat, hands clasped over his abdomen and ankles crossed, in an attempt to look as casual as he possibly could. The truth was the opposite. Din couldn’t stop peering out of the corner of his eyes at you. Luckily, the helmet made it a lot easier for him to hide his actions unlike you. Din was still worried about you. It was obvious something was making you uncomfortable, and he had been determined to get to the bottom of it. Until, of course, you innocently asked what ‘cyar’ika’ meant. That had thrown him.

The first time he called you ‘cyar’ika’ it had been entirely accidental. You had been hesitant about asking him questions about himself, and he didn’t want you to feel that way. In his reassurance the word had just slipped out. Since then, it fell out a lot more. Often by choice. Din liked the way it sounded when he was referring to you with it. He liked that every time it left his lips, you’d turn to give him attention with your pretty smile.

Technically, the answer shouldn’t be embarrassing to him. The best translation of ‘cyar’ika’ was ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had to be used in a romantic setting alone. It was a generalized term of endearment. He could’ve said that. Din’s problem was that he knew, deep down, he didn’t feel just a ‘generalized endearment’ for you. Din was much too attracted to you to pretend it was said with any other connotation.

His panic hadn’t helped his situation. Din spent his entire life being trained for a fight. He was taught from a young age that panic led to mistakes and mistakes led to death or worse. It had been ingrained into every single cell of his body to the point where staying calm was a muscle memory for him. It didn’t take a conscious decision. It was his default, and that default was half the reason he was so successful as a bounty hunter. Despite all of that, all it took was one innocent look from you⏤ one simple question⏤ and he melted into a pathetic puddle.

Din glanced your way again. You sat ramrod straight in your seat, shoulders tense, and your fingers were tangled together in a vice grip. He wasn’t sure how you weren’t hurting yourself holding your hands together like that. Whereas his entire body sat casual, though a farce, yours screamed stress. His own hands came unclasped as the urge to touch you in reassurance overcame him. Din managed to resist and instead crossed his arms in hopes that this position would better control his instinct.

“I haven’t been to a doctors office in a while.” You blurted. The sound of your voice had his head snap to look at you in a nearly comical speed. You were watching Grogu play while you spoke in a whisper. “I guess I’m just nervous. It’s stupid.”

“How you feel is never stupid.” Din replied. He shifted so he sat up rather than leaned back. “You didn’t have to come with us. If I had known—”

You chuckled, “I know. You wouldn’t have made me. I think you might be a little too understanding for a boss.” Din swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. That was true. Kriff, if you knew any of the thoughts he had you’d consider him the worst boss in this world— maybe in the entire Outer Rim. “I wanted to be here. For Grogu and— and you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Din disagreed. You were acting against an active fear you had for him and his son. That meant a lot to him. He knew the kind of strength it took to press onward into a setting of discomfort.

“Can I ask why?” Din asked. “Why haven’t you been to a clinic in a while?”

You shrugged and your gaze drifted down to your hands which you began to wring together. Din stayed silent. He was content with giving you all the time in the world to respond. Finally, you looked up to meet his gaze. You smiled and your words came out jokingly, “Nobody likes doctors.”

“Still important to go now and then.”

“Uh huh.” You tilted your head at him, smile growing impish. “And when’s the last time you saw a doctor? Mr. Big Bad Bounty Hunter?”

Din’s lips curled up in amusement. He loved that you were comfortable enough to joke with and tease him. He shook his head. “I have bacta and a cautery at home. Those don’t require me to sit in a waiting room for 45 minutes.”

“Fair point.” You chuckled. “Bacta and cautery do have their own faults, you know.”

“Like?” Din asked. He didn’t really care about the faults of either, but if this distracted you from your nerves he’d play along. Plus, the sound of your voice was like music to his ears. He’d sit and listen to you read the instruction manual for a caf machine without complaint.

“Well,” You began, your shoulders beginning to relax, “Bacta is incredible. No doubt. Society called it a medical miracle and they weren’t wrong. It’s only as good as the person using it though. If the wound isn’t cleaned right or debris is left inside when the Bacta is applied then everything gets trapped inside as your tissue heals. Plus, if it’s already an internal issue Bacta can’t target that. It does nothing for fever control or symptom management.” Din could tell you were getting into the conversation because you twisted in your seat to face him. “If you use Bacta on a fracture, but you don’t set it right then it heals wrong. If you mess up the measurements in a Bacta tank or the settings are wrong it can ‘overheal’ a person which just means a person’s tissues and cells rejuvenate and are reborn so fast that it floods the body. Those excess cells wreck havoc and turn to tumors wherever they land.” Din let his eyes shamelessly trace your features. This was the first topic, other than Grogu, that he had seen you get so excited about. You pointed at him with a mocking grin, “And don’t get me started on a cautery gun.”

Din chuckled, “And what exactly is wrong with my cautery gun?”

“You’re essentially creating a wound to fix a different wound.” You scoffed. “It’s great for stemming blood loss and destroying infected tissue, but between infections and scarring⏤”

Din leaned toward you, a confident tilt to his head, “I’ve never had a cautery induced infection.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

You twisted your lips, amused, and he shifted so he was as close to you as he could manage in the separate chairs. You shook your head. “Fine. You, Marshal Mando, are the one exception of the system. Congratulations.”

Din let out a breathy laugh, and he wondered what it would sound like to hear his name spoken in your voice. The beeping of his communicator made you alter your position in the chair so you were back to where you had started. Din did the same and resisted muttering the curse words bouncing around in his head. Looking at the screen he saw it was Cara. Dank farrik. She’d only call if it were actually important.

He accepted the call and Cara started talking without preamble.

“Mando, we got pirates. Mayfeld and I are on our way to the tarmac where a group of them are causing trouble, but Karga said a few were spotted by the school.”

This time he didn’t hold back the curse that came to mind. Din turned to look at you and you gave him a reassuring nod. “Go.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Din stood.

“We’ll probably still be in here.” You motioned to the waiting room.

Din reached out to squeeze your shoulder and on his way out told Grogu to behave.

Kriffing pirates.

Mando had been an excellent distraction. You had never been a fan of pirates at baseline, they were always the worst to deal with when they stumbled into the hospital in Coruscant, but now you really hated them. You tried to focus on Grogu who was still playing with a different set of kids as the ones he had been with before got called back to be seen. Before they left, you had actually exchanged a few frequency numbers to set up play dates at some point.

“Grogu?” A nurse poked her head out of a door.

He dropped the blocks he was holding to perk up at the sound of his name. Still in a playful and active mood, Grogu wanted to walk on his own rather than be held so you walked by his side as you both followed behind the nurse.

She went about taking vitals and getting some more information before leading you back to a simple room. You sat down in one of the two chairs in the corner, by the exam table, and let Grogu bounce around the room to burn off his excess energy.

“You are gonna sleep so good tonight.” You chuckled.

“No sleep. No.” Grogu chirped. “No, no.”

That was quickly becoming one of the kid’s favorite Basic words to use. You glanced up at the clock on the wall to see it was about an hour after your appointment time. Understaffed clinics got backed up, it happened, and you understood that better than most. You felt bad for the poor physician running around the office today. You were actually hoping you’d have to wait a bit longer though.

Mando wanted to be here for this, to be here for his son, and you hated that the damned pirates got in the way of that. If you could swap roles with him and handle the pirates so he could stay here with his son you would’ve. Unfortunately, that would’ve been messy for every single person involved. You didn’t have an extensive history doing well in a fight, and the only kind of blade you knew how to use was a scalpel. You’d never even held a blaster before.

“Skraan!” Grogu called out.

You shook your head. “We just ate lunch, buddy. I think we have some snacks left.” You dug around the baby bag you had packed for the day and found the container of star shaped cereal puffs you had put together this morning. “Here we go.”

Grogu bounced over to you happily and held his hands up to you. You dropped a few stars into his palms and watched him eat them one by one. He’d explored the room while eating the stars and would only return back to you for more stars. That became the routine for the next ten minutes and by then you were out of star shaped snacks.

A knock at the door startled you. “Come in!” You placed the container into the bag and motioned for Grogu to come sit on your lap. “Hi. I’m⏤”

“This is Grogu?” The man interrupted your introduction. He was older, you’d guess in his late sixties or early seventies, and was human. Thick gray hair covered his head and it matched the thick mustache above his lips.

“Yes. We’re here for⏤”

“Let’s see, school registration check up.” He read off the holopad in his hand. You shifted in your seat, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and bit back a snarky reply. “We’ll get some blood for lab work, give the usual booster shots, and get you on your way, yeah?”

You held Grogu’s hands, skeptical, “I was actually hoping⏤”

“There’s no need for⏤”

“Please stop interrupting me.” You snapped. There was nothing you hated more than not being able to get a thought out. Maybe you’d have more patience for it if you hadn’t spent all your training being looked down at for being a young woman. You couldn’t count the number of bloated attendings you worked under who were just like the man in front of you. The doctor stayed silent but you could see annoyance on his features. “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you came in, you never introduced yourself.” You said but paused before saying more. This wasn’t a hospital you had any sort of credentialing in. That meant if you wanted anything done, you were gonna have to stroke an ego. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Sorry, I’m sure it slipped your mind with how busy you are today. I bet they have you running all over the place.”

The man chuckled. “You aren’t wrong. My name is Dr. Daelar. I am sorry about the wait time. I was caught in a different procedure room for the last hour doing a cryoablation of some skin lesions.” You resisted the urge to scoff. Doing cryoablation correctly took five minutes tops. Doing it insanely, incorrectly could maybe stretch it out to ten. You didn’t appreciate the excuse because you knew it was a lie. “As I was saying, we’ll draw some blood and get those booster shots going.”

“Thank you. We’re actually going to be forgoing the blood tests, and I was hoping you’d take a listen to his lungs.” You replied. Over lunch, Mando had explained that he wasn’t comfortable with anybody drawing blood from Grogu. He hadn’t explained the exact reasoning, but you gathered it was something from their tricky past. Even with your back to him, you could tell the topic made him mildly uncomfortable. “He’s had this night time cough I’ve noticed⏤”

Daelar shook his head. “That’s not wise. I strongly recommend the blood tests.”

“Okay.” You drew the word out. “Thank you, and I appreciate your thoughts on the matter⏤”

“These aren’t my thoughts, these are the facts.” Daelar interrupted again. “Blood work should be checked routinely for chronic illnesses. He needs this done.”

You didn’t know if Grogu could tell that you were in a bad mood, but he began to squirm and whine in your lap. He turned around and pushed up on his tip toes so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. You scooped him up to hold him closer making the action easier.

“I understand the benefits of routine lab work, and I understand the risks of refusing.” You said as calmly as you could. If this was about legal issues then you’d say the magic words that he could type in his chart and waive all liability off himself. “That being said, we’re still refusing a blood draw today.”

Daelar scoffed and shook his head. “You’re being unreasonable. As a first time mom it’s understandable to be nervous and jittery, but it’s no reason to put your son at risk.”

Oh, you really didn’t like this man. Karga had somehow managed to hire a physician that represented everything wrong with healthcare. Nice. Between the bullying and assumptions, that would be enough to piss you off alone. Add the stress of being in a clinic after so long? You really had no chance of getting out of this without losing your cool.

“You’re not drawing labs on Grogu.” You snapped.

Daelar shook his head and shrugged. “Then I don’t know if I can clear him to start school.”

“Blood work isn’t necessary for school registration. Just the boosters.” Your voice began to raise.

“Ma’am⏤” He began once more but a solid knock at the door interrupted the interaction. A nurse poked her head in one second later and Daelar snapped at her. “We’re busy in here.”

“Sorry, sir. The child’s father is here.”

Daelar smirked at you. “Good. Perhaps, this will settle the matter at hand.”

The nurse slid out of the room and was replaced by Mando. You took in the sight of him, unharmed and unmarred, and a wave of relief washed over you. If dealing with the pirates had led to a fire fight then Mando came away with no obvious injuries. Mando’s helmet tilted just a bit and you could feel his eyes on you in the same way you had looked over him. His shoulders stiffened marginally, his stance still intimidating, and you wondered if your anger was notable. You rubbed Grogu’s back soothingly.

“Oh. Marshal!” Daelar greeted. “I had no idea this was your son. I⏤”

“What’s wrong?” Mando walked over to stand beside you, ignoring Daelar entirely. He rubbed Grogu’s head and let his hand trail from his son’s head to rest on your upper back. The way he stood beside your seat nearly blocked Daelar from your view.

You lifted your chin to stare up at the T-shaped visor. “Dr. Daelar has been adamant about a blood draw despite my very clear refusal.”

Mando turned around and his hands drifted to his hips. Daelar shifted awkwardly from across the room and he let out a cough. The doctor held his hands up with a smile, “No, I think this is simply a misunderstanding.” Your eyes widened, jaw falling open. “The little Mrs," Again with the assumptions, “She misunderstood me is all. I was simply offering my recommendation, but obviously the decision falls to your hands at the end of the day. We can just work on the boosters and finish the paperwork for registration.”

A disbelieving guffaw left your throat at the audacity of this man. Mando glanced over his shoulder down at you, and you took a sharp breath through your nose. Whatever. As long as Grogu got the care he needed. Mando looked back to Daelar.

“Have you listened to my son’s lungs?”

Daelar’s eyes widened. “Hmm? Why?”

“I know Soran would have brought it up. She’s attentive. Was there a misunderstanding about Grogu’s cough?”

“No. Not at all. Sorry.” Daelar sighed. “Bring the little guy over to the exam table.”

Without speaking, Mando held his arms out to take Grogu, and you tried to hand him over. Grogu clung to your shirt, his claws digging into the material, and he buried his face further into your neck. He grumbled, “No.” You shot Mando a look, and he reached out to help detangle Grogu from you. The little boy didn’t give in.

“Grogu.” Mando said firmly. He set a hand on his back. “Come to me, ad’ika.”

“No, no!” Grogu finally lifted his head to look at his father’s visor. He shook his head and you had to lean back to keep his ears from hitting you. Grogu whined, “Trikar’la, buir!”

Despite all the tension, despite the fact that you still only knew very, very basic Mando’a, you gasped with a swell of pride. Unable to bite back the smile you wore, you cooed. “Grogu, that was so good.” You had no idea what he said beyond referring to his father, but his words sounded like it could’ve been a full sentence. Plus, he had said it in front of Daelar, a virtual stranger. “Good job, sweetie.”

You lifted your eyes to Mando, expecting a similar reaction, but his entire frame was tense. Again, his helmet gave no signs of anger, but a seething energy radiated from him. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Grogu went back to hiding his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you, and Mando shifted his hands so one rested on your back and arm.

“Let me help you up.” Mando whispered in a kind tone. “You can sit on the exam table with him.”

“Alright.” You mumbled.

You didn’t need any help standing, but Mando kept his hands on you while you rose and all the way to the exam table. Once you sat down on the sanitation paper, Mando settled beside you. He kept his arm behind you, his hand leaning on the table by your opposite thigh. You turned to look at Mando, and because of his positioning you found yourself dangerously close to his chest. If you leaned forward you could bury your face in the crook of his neck the same way Grogu was doing to you.

His head began to turn to look at you and you quickly focused your gaze forward. Daelar came over with his stethoscope and began to listen to Grogu’s lungs. He did this for a few minutes before pulling back with a nod. Daelar cleared his throat. “I’m hearing a little wheezing. Very mild. I can prescribe a nebulizer treatment at home before he goes to bed. Hold the mask over his face and just let him breathe in the medicine.”

“Thank you.” Mando said, but his tone was more intimidating than grateful.

“I’ll send a nurse in with the boosters and the medicine.” Daelar said before rushing out of the room.

You scoffed, still in disbelief on how that had gone, but when the door closed Mando shifted so he stood directly in front of you. Now he had a hand resting on the table on either side of your thighs. You blinked in surprise at the sudden motion.

“Are you alright?” Mando asked.

You forced a chuckle. “Yeah. I mean, that guy was a total ass, but he wasn’t the first jerk I’ve dealt with. Won’t be the last.” You continued rubbing Grogu’s back, not knowing what else to do with your own hands. “Granted, I could’ve done without the gaslighting, but…” It occurred to you then that Mando hadn’t hesitated to take your side. “Thanks. For having my back, I mean.”

“Always.” Mando replied with ease. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m talking to Karga about this.”

You laughed. “You’re gonna get a doctor fired because he was rude to me?” Mando didn’t reply, but his shrug was highly unconvincing. “It’s fine.”

“He upset you. That’s not fine. Grogu said⏤”

You gasped, “Yeah! What did Grogu say?”

Mando paused before leaning back. “He said you were sad.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you glanced down to gently pull Grogu away from your chest to look at him. He stared up at you with concern in his large eyes, and you gave him a smile. “I’m okay.” You gave his head a light scratch and let your fingers trail to give his ear a light, loving tongue. “Thanks for looking out for me, little guy.”

Grogu lifted his hands toward your face so you brought it down toward him. He lightly patted your cheeks and did the same thing he did this morning⏤ pressed his forehead as close to yours as you could get it. Everyone in Nevarro showed different forms of affection to Grogu, he was too cute to not pay attention to, but the most important sign of affection was the way Mando lightly set his forehead to his. You had to assume that in Grogu’s mind, that was an important thing. The fact that he was sharing that bit of love with you was overwhelming. You tried not to linger on the thought too long this morning⏤ not wanting to fall apart⏤ but Mando being here sticking up for you without hesitation only added to the situation.

You felt yourself begin to get choked up and quickly cleared your throat.

“Here. Why don’t you go to your dad?” You held out Grogu, and Mando must have sensed your distress because he took the child with no question. You gave him a broad smile. “I⏤I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

You hopped off the exam table and as you pulled the door open Mando called out. “Are you sure you’re alright, cyar’ika?”

You let a wide smile fill your features, every bit of real, and nodded sincerely, “I am. I promise. I’m⏤ This…” Considering how grateful you felt right now, you owed him as much truth as you could give. You nodded. “This is the best I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Mando nodded once, silent. Grogu lifted a hand and gave you a small wave. You rushed out of the room and made a beeline straight for the bathroom you had passed on the way into the procedure room. Finally away from prying eyes, you leaned against the locked bathroom door and began to trace the scar along your collarbone. Even with your fingers ghosting over the ugly patch of skin, you felt happy⏤ cared for. Maker, you didn’t think you’d actually feel that way ever again.

mando’a translations:

cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart

trikar’la: sad

buir: father

555 notes · View notes

dhzjnzi · 1 year

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✿Neytiri nsfw headcanons✿

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Warnings ✨: NSFW content, cunniling, face riding, clit on clit, soft dom Neytiri, mommy play, spanking, overestimulation, squirting.

@tsireyqs that's for u babe🦋

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✧ I feel like she would definitely be a soft dom.

✧ She would be sweet on you and pamper you a lot but you definitely don't want to know what happens if you disobey a direct order….

✧ Soft spanking and cum denial are definitely in her top punishment list.

✧ Would absolutely make you cum with her tongue so hard that you would beg her to stop, she just loves to see you all worn out and satisfied because of her.

✧ Maybe if you were a total brat she would use overestimulation as a punishment, her heavy, hard hands definitely leaving angry swollen red marks on your ass and then softly comforting you…

⁠✧ Totally is a “relief sex” person.

✧ Loves when you call her mommy.

✧ Would make you squirt all over the floor and make you clean your mess…

✧ "Babygirl", "precious", "sweet girl" and "darling" are definitely her favorite nicknames for you.

⁠✧ She would whisper things like: “that's it babygirl” “such a good girl for me making your mommy feel so good” “mommy will take good care of you now sweet” "open those pretty legs for you mommy" "hmm now tell me who made you that wet baby?

✧ Loves to stay in clit on clit position with you, the wet noises and the sweet friction of your hips along with the shock of her clitoris rubbing yours is the heaven for her.

✧ It makes her so horny when you ride on her face, your pussy being totally devoured by her mouth, her tongue licking and playing between your delicate folds along with the strong hickeys on your clit and you little shy noises.

✧ She would let you be on control some times but quickly would turn you on your knees and take the control back.

⁠✧ Is not a “rope” person, she likes you to touch her so rope is not the best option for her.

✧ Aftercare always, she may be totally spanking and making a mess out of you but she would never leave you without a good care a a lot o love.

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let me know what u think in the comments.

Btw perhaps there's a daddy Jake shameless smut coming out next week 🦋

But u didn't heard this from me...

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neytiri #neytiri x reader #neytiri x you #neytiri x fem!reader #atwow #avatar twow #avatar smut #neytiri smut #I'm working day and night to feed our addiction #cant feel my back anymore

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simphellscape · 6 months

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SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12TH, 2020- 5:24PM // SUNDAY, DECEMBER 13TH, 2020 - 2:38AM // next | tw: alcohol, horny bird pt. 2

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 13TH, 2020 - 2:38AM

“Cheater!” Kei exclaims, scattering several UNO cards across the floor, “You’re -hic- cheating.”

He pouts dramatically, throwing himself against the living room carpet. This childish display has you cackling. Perhaps he’s a bit too drunk, but it doesn’t matter because so are you.

“Can we play a different game, please?” he pleads, slurring.

“It’s not my fault that I’m a god, Kei!”

“If I wasn’t drunk, you’d be a goner.”

“You said five minutes ago that you aren’t even drunk!”

“I’m not!”

“Liar!”

“Different game!” he bellows, still throwing a tantrum.

You reach over and flick the back of his head. Even though you’re hammered, you still manage to land it squarely in the center. His head flies off the floor to face you, honey eyes narrowed.

“You’re dead, (Y/L/N).”

One of his feathers darts toward you, aiming directly for your exposed ribs. You know this game far too well, and while you could easily avoid his attack, you secretly enjoy this kind of attention. In a way, it’s like he’s touching you. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

You leap to your feet and begin sprinting in the direction of your bedroom, but the feather is simply too fast. Before you can even make it through the door, it’s teasing the sensitive area, causing you to convulse with defeat. You, unfortunately, are being tickled within an inch of your life.

“K-Kei!” you shout, breathless and laughing, “Stop it!”

“No, you flicked me!”

You crash into the wall and slide to the floor, feather never leaving your side.

“I’m gonna pee!”

“You shoulda thought of that before you flicked me, then!”

“I -- fuck -- I’m sorry!”

“What? Can’t hear you. Speak up!”

“I’M SORRY!”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, a fake threatening tone to his voice.

With that, the feather zips back into the fold of his wings, bumping into a lamp on the way. You stay slumped against the wall, attempting to catch your breath. Meanwhile, Kei has raised himself to a relaxed sitting position on the living room floor.

“Now, a different game, please,” he smiles.

“Fine, crybaby.”

“Watch it, or I’ll tickle you again!”

“Nooo!” you whine, returning to your spot on the living room carpet with a graceless thump.

“I have an idea!” Kei gasps.

“Shoot.”

“How about, um, Truth or Dare, but, like, with alcohol! Like you take a shot if you don’t wanna do your truth… or your dare… or whatever.”

“I didn’t realize we were sixteen years old.”

He calls a feather to hover dangerously close to your ribcage once again.

“Jesus, alright! Just put that shit away.”

He smirks with satisfaction as the torture device returns to its crimson plume.

“I’ll go first!”

“Hold on, let me get the vodka,” you grumble, hoisting yourself up.

As you hobble to the kitchen, Kei begins the game anyway.

“Truth or dare?”

“Let’s do truth,” you decide after a moment, returning with the bottle of vodka.

“You’re no fun,” he pouts, considering his options, “Hmm…. oh! Okay, so, you’ve got good aim.”

“Yeah. Truth or dare?”

“I WASN’T DONE YET!”

“I’m teasing, Kei! Someone’s touchy.”

“Leave me alone,” he growls, “I wanted to know what your quirk really is. Because I don’t think that’s all.”

“Yeah, that’s not all. All of my senses -- you know, sight, hearing, whatever -- are better than a normal person’s. Not all of them are the same amount of better though! My sight is the best, and then touch, then -hic- hearing, smell, and taste. It kinda sucked at first, but I worked really hard to make it worth something, ya know? I even got an ultimate move out of it!”

Kei’s mouth is hanging open in real, but overexaggerated shock.

“Really? Show me!”

“It’s not really something I can show you…”

“Oh. Well, can you, like, tell me about it then?”

At this, Kei scooches closer towards you, eyes widening even further.

“I just, um, focus more, and it makes my senses almost perfect. Like they’re great on their own, but with more focus it gets to the point where, like, I can tell what people are gonna do before they’re finished doing it. It’s like -- ‘oh, I can hear their pinky toe moving in their shoe, they’re probably gonna take a step’. It gives me a migraine when I’m done though.”

Kei nods and begins the long, arduous process of standing up.

“Okay, so I’m gonna get up and then I’m gonna do something totally unexpected. You gotta say what I’m gonna do.”

“I just told you it makes my head hurt, birdbrain!”

“But I wanna seeeeee!”

“You can see it later! I don’t think I can do it right now, anyway. I’m drunk.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest.

You learned from your last time drinking together that when Kei drinks, he often wants to play some sort of game. And when he’s drunk and playing a game, one of two things can happen. One, he gets extremely competitive. This is what happened last time, when he flipped your game of LIFE off of your coffee table. Or, two, he becomes a big, mopey baby, which is what’s happening right now. You know it’s all in jest, and while it’s slightly annoying, it’s mostly endearing. You can’t wait to remind him about this tomorrow. If you’re even able to remember, that is.

“Truth or dare?”

“I’m gonna pick dare, because I’m not a loser,” he mocks.

“Oh, now I’m gonna pick something terrible.”

You scan the room, drunkenly scrambling to find something hellish for him to do as revenge. You just did a deep clean of the whole apartment, so there’s nothing really gross around here that you can think of. You’re fresh out of mushrooms, otherwise you’d make him eat one. You know he would have hated that. You could make him wear one of your bras on his head, but that would require him to see it. Too embarrassing for you. Suddenly, a lightbulb pops in your head.

“Let me touch your wings.”

There are two reasons for this diabolical idea. Kei talks all the time about how he loathes when fans touch his feathers without his consent. But also, selfishly, you just really want to know what they feel like. You’ve felt individual feathers before, and they’re incredibly soft. Feeling multiple all at once sounds heavenly.

“No. Absolutely not!”

“Now you’re no fun!”

“They’re sensitive!”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“No, that’s wooorse!”

“How the fuck is that worse?”

In addition to the flush of Kei’s intoxicated cheeks, a new pinkess spreads across them.

“Either let me touch your wings for a few seconds or take a shot,” you urge him.

He locks hazy eyes with you, and you can see the gears turning in his head. Simultaneously, the gears are turning in your own. You can’t really gather how it would be worse for you to be gentle with them. Holding back on the pressure couldn’t possibly hurt him. In fact, that seems like it would be more pleasurable for him.

Your brain stops in its tracks.

Pleasurable.

Before you can stop yourself, you share your revelation.

“You don’t want me to touch them because you’ll like it too much!”

“No, I--”

“Don’t lie, Kei!”

“I don’t--”

“No, you do know!”

“FINE, TOUCH THEM!” he concedes, throwing his arms in the air.

You grin widely, feeling victorious, as he turns to the side. You use this opportunity to scooch closer to him, preparing to caress the plumes.

You could go about this one of two ways, you figure. You could make this as easy as possible for him. A quick stroke across a small section. Or, you could make this extremely difficult for him, running your fingers between the expanse of the whole wing. Something about the intimacy of the interaction, the inhibiting effect of the alcohol, and your burning desire to touch his wings, to touch him, make you pick the latter.

You wiggle beside his extended leg, facing the wing directly. Before you touch him, something possesses you to lean towards him and whisper in his ear.

“Remember, this game was your idea.”

All in the same motion, you draw your head back and carefully dive your fingers into his wings. As you run them along the surface, you suck in a breath. You expected them to be soft, but you’re taken aback. It has exceeded your expectations by a lot. Your fingertips tingle at the way each feather teases them. The fine barbs feel smooth underneath your touch. A strange sensation zips its way up your arm like it’s a live wire. You move at a sloth’s pace, wanting to savor this feeling for as long as possible, mesmerized. You’re only halfway across when Kei’s hand closes around your wrist, forcefully yanking it away.

His previously hazy eyes are now dark, met firmly with the wall directly across from him. His breathing is labored, shoulders heaving with each inhale and exhale. The previously pink flush in his cheeks is now beet red. Warmth spreads in your midsection, intoxicated by both the restraint he has you in and the downright primal look on his face.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, sternly.

You flounder, looking deep within you for some sort of snarky reply. There’s nothing left in your head; it seems that this interaction has wiped them all away. You feel redness creep up your neck and into your face. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You’re sure that Kei can hear it loud and clear. You swallow hard, and attempt to find your voice.

“Come on, that was nothing,” you offer, weakly.

Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his lips. They’re parted slightly to allow for his panting breaths. The image of him closing the distance between you, crashing them against yours, flashes across your brain. Working against them in expert fashion. Just like you’ve wanted for so long. You can practically feel the pressure of them, sucking on your bottom lip and lightly nipping. To satiate the need you suddenly feel, you take your bottom lip between your teeth, returning your gaze to the predator before you.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Keigo’s palm burns around your wrist. It’s taking everything in him to refrain from pinning you down on the floor and reenacting the images flashing in his head. Your heartbeat is drumlike, rapid, and even more inebriating than the copious amounts of liquor he’s had tonight. Your erratic breaths cause your chest to brush lightly against his forearm, the additional contact driving him further into insanity. After years of training, he knows that this is the ultimate test of his will. He’s losing.

A part of him consistently suggests that loving you isn’t a venture that’s destined to fail. The rest of him usually overshadows that, spouting endless excuses for his actions. Well, rather, inaction. Right now, he’s forgotten every reason he’d previously given himself. No matter how badly he wants to, how desperately he needs to, he can’t bring himself to look at you. If your expression is anywhere near what he’s imagining it to be, he won’t be able to stop himself. In his soul, he knows that if he acts right now, he will be completely unable to show anything resembling mercy. The already looming threat of going completely feral will swallow him whole, and he will fuck you into oblivion.

It’s appealing, the thought of releasing hold on his inhibitions. The only thing stopping him now is the thing that stops him from doing a lot of things these days.

He must, above anything and everything else, keep people safe. And you just happen to be at the very top of the list of people in the world.

This is as instinctual as breathing for him. A knee jerk reaction to outside stimuli. His outside might be extremely stimulated right now, but the core of his very existence will not allow this to continue. Not like this. If he’s ever presented with the opportunity to sleep with you, it has to be centered around you. It has to be considerate. It has to be gentle. The current state of things doesn’t equate to that at all. Of course he cares about you, about your safety. He also cares about being a decent human being, a decent pro-hero, even in the face of quickly reducing into an animal.

Finally, in the raging battle of Keigo versus avian instinct, Keigo emerges victorious.

In one swift motion, he releases his grip on your wrist and raises himself off the ground. Semi-rational thought slowly starts to flow back into his head. He knows that whatever the hell all that was effectively ruined the banter for the night. The way he reacted to your touch scared himself, and he can’t even begin to imagine how terrified you must feel. Moments like these reacquainted him with the fact that his quirk, combined with all of the meddling the Commission did to him, essentially made him a monster. He goes to great lengths to hide that from the rest of the world, but now he’s revealed the most ugly part of himself to the only person in the entire place that matters. You, his entire life, now know that even the most human of hawks are predators, too.

He stumbles to your balcony. In his altered mind, he believes that leaving would be the ultimate courtesy to you right now. It doesn’t matter that he’s plastered. It doesn’t matter that you’re already following him, begging him to stay. No one, especially you, deserves to spend another moment with such an unholy creature as Keigo Takami.

Without so much as a backward glance, he surges off of the balcony and into the night sky. His aim is to fly across the city, across the country, across the world. But, his double vision doesn’t grant him much aid in the darkness. Before he can make it even fifty feet from your apartment building, he clips the one across from you with his massive wing. In any normal circumstance, he would be able to recover from this without much issue. But he’s shitfaced. So, instead, he careens into the street below at remarkable speeds. With a yelp, he lands on the gravel and slides, scraping his entire left side. For a moment, his deafening, panic induced thoughts are quiet. It happens to be just long enough to hear you from your apartment four stories above.

“KEI!”

A pro-hero such as him should be able to take an injury like this like it’s nothing. In fact, he’s done it countless times before. Something about the drunkenness and the complete descent into self-loathing keeps him glued to the pavement. He knows you’re coming. He knows he’s going to have to face you. He knows that you’re probably worried out of your goddamn mind. He knows it’s all his fault.

For the first time in recent memory, Keigo feels entirely lost. Though he’s tried so hard, he knows now that you’ve found him out. In his perfect world, he hoped that you took his lack of affection and general emotional standoffishness as a sort of defense mechanism. In essence, that’s what it was, but he never wanted you to find out any of the myriad of things he was defending himself from -- defending you from. Now, there’s no way in hell you could view it as anything else. He wants you. Badly. And now, you know.

He hoists himself up into a sitting position with difficulty, both hands finding their way to his hair. The panic is starting to give way to crushing defeat. He’s already running through ideas on how to cope with the loss of your presence in his life. After the imminent rejection he’s about to face, he’ll have to cut off contact with you for his own sanity, at least for a little while. Maybe he can contact Kana and see if there’s any way she can assign another pro-hero to your case. Just as he’s running through candidates to recommend, he hears your sandals crunching against the gravel.

“Hey!” you call out.

Keigo inhales deeply and raises his head.

“Oh, thank fuck,” you breathe as you approach him.

You stumble slightly as you finally reach him, hands reaching out. You crouch beside him and begin to inspect his form, picking pieces of the ground off of it.

“(Y/N)...” Keigo sighs.

You shift your focus from cleaning him up to his face. As soon as you see the look of despair on it, your own face drops.

“What? Kei, what’s wrong?”

Is it possible that you aren’t as thrown off by this interaction as he is? Did this even phase you at all?

“Um.. you were there five minutes ago too, right? You witnessed the shit that I just pulled?” he asks, softly.

“Yeah, you jumped out of a fucking window! Of course I witnessed that, you idiot!”

Of course you didn’t care about the fact that he almost acted on his innermost desires in the most animalistic way possible. As always, you just wanted him to be okay. He should have suspected as much.

But, after tonight, he’s not sure if he’s physically able to keep the act up much longer.

“I meant before that.”

Redness creeps across your cheeks as you nod in recognition.

“Yeah, uh, I did witness that,” you whisper.

“And,” Keigo gulps, “did that… uh… scare you? At all?”

You laugh nervously. A flighty and musical sound. Keigo’s heart drums faster.

“No. I wasn’t scared. I was…” you trail off.

You suddenly groan and throw your hands over your face.

“God, Kei, don’t make me say this,” you cry.

His mind races. What could possibly be worse than making you scared by that? He can’t immediately think of anything, but whatever it is must be awful. He definitely won’t be seeing you ever again after this, but he needs to know. He has to prevent this from happening ever again. Not that it ever will, because he doubts that he’ll ever let his guard down like this from now on.

“You’re gonna have to. I’m not following,” he mutters.

You whine, and retract your hands. Your eyes are glued to his chest, as if that’s as close as you can get them to his eyes at the moment.

“I -- it kind of… turned me on.”

Keigo feels as if someone dumped a gallon of cold water over his head. In fact, if someone managed to do that right now, he would probably be less shocked. He can feel his mouth drying out from the amount of time he’s spent with it hanging open.

“See! I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” you groan, shifting to raise yourself up.

Without thinking, he wraps his hand around your wrist again, pulling you towards him. You fall to your knees, face inches away from his own. He searches you one final time for any sign of regret, but all he finds is a desperate, pleading expression. He somehow finds it in him to speak.

“Can I?”

You nod softly and he does what he’s been wanting to do for months.

The first thing he notices when his lips finally meet yours is the taste of strawberry vodka. The second thing, hitting him immediately after, is an explosion in his chest. It’s a million sensations at once -- flowers blooming, fireworks popping, the sun rising. Keigo has done a lot of things in his short life, but not one of them has even come close to the pleasure of kissing you.

What was a tentative, slow pace quickly evolves into something needy, something frantic. His hands shift from the soft grip around your wrist to tangle themselves in your hair, pushing you closer to him. Even though you’re practically on top of him now, you’re not close enough, and he doesn’t think you ever will be. His tongue swipes against your lips, begging for entrance. You happily oblige, and he delves deep into you. As your teeth crash together, Keigo begins struggling for breath. He doesn’t want it, maybe he doesn’t even need it. Now, he feels as though you’re the only thing he needs to survive. Just as he accepts that as fact, you break away to rest your forehead on his. You’re panting, giggling softly between breaths. As he collects his thoughts, his mouth moves before any of the rest of him can.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he whispers.

“You should have done it sooner,” you retort, still out of breath.

He’s beginning to regain control of his body now, so he pulls away from you just far enough to plant a soft kiss against your nose. Even though he would love to continue to feel the most unique and gratifying thing he’s ever felt, he recognizes that now is not the time nor the place. But, if he has anything to say about it, there will be plenty more opportunities, scattered across the rest of time. He pauses as that thought, at how a simple kiss has fixed the position he’d been saving for you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You, his first friend, his last love. He finds your hand and squeezes it.

“It’s getting pretty late. You should probably get to bed,” he suggests.

“You could stay with me, if you wanted. I wouldn’t want you to get arrested for drunk flying,” you chuckle.

The smile that sprouts on Keigo’s face is strong enough to break his cheekbones. It’s a miracle that they stay intact.

“You’re absolutely right. Always looking out for me, aren’t you?”

He lifts himself up and pulls you with him. As the two of you walk back to your apartment, your pinky fingers are linked together. It’s a small, almost lazy connection, but neither of you seem to be able to entertain the thought of letting go.

(a/n): fuckin finally amirite

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fe-fictions · 3 months

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I need my husband saizo. Can we pregnant corrin who isn’t able to sleep cause the baby is keeping her awake

(Starting 2024 with some sweet Saizo fluff!! Enjoy :'3 )

Saizo was always a light sleeper. You, the princess who bore the weight of two kingdoms and a supernatural plain of existence’s futures on your shoulders, were not.

You could sleep through just about anything.

Except, it seemed, your sixth month of pregnancy.

“Dammit…” You sounded incredibly upset, and rather agitated when he felt the bed shift next to him. “C’mon, why are you doing this to me now? It’s not a good time for this…”

Saizo rose slowly, quietly, checking to see what was going on. You weren’t talking to anybody else in the room…that you noticed.

“Please...I just want to sleep.”

“Corrin? Who are you talking to?” He spoke quietly so as not to frighten you. He was deeply slightly concerned.

“It’s the baby.” You replied hopelessly, tilting your head to acknowledge your awake husband. “I-I’m sorry, did I accidentally wake you up with my complaining? At least one of us should get a good night’s sleep.”

“If you do not sleep, I do not, either.” He stated simply, sitting up fully. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know…I’ve never had a living creature inside of me that won’t stop moving around. Should we summon a cleric? Sakura might be more knowledgeable, but I’d hate to wake her.”

“Hmm. Let me check the medical journals before we summon anyone. It should not be so difficult to resolve…unless you are feeling pain or discomfort.”

“No, just…can’t sleep.” You sighed, flopping back into your pillow with a groan as said baby kicked again for good measure. “It’s unnerving, feeling him move about so much.”

“Saizo. Be still.” His voice was gruff, but lacked the usual bite when pointed at others. He rose from the bed and found the journals, re-settling himself at your side with the candles lit to provide some visibility.

“Let us see…the second trimester…” He thummed through it, muttering to himself as he searched voraciously for a solution to his wife’s struggle. There were few things he hated more than being incapable of helping you, after all.

You smiled softly to yourself, watching as he was all but glaring at each word on the pages, hoping the next would hold the answer he sought.

“Here we are.” He leaned back, gently pressing his hand to your baby bump as his reading came to a pause. “It states here that, if the patient restless or is incapable of sleep due to excessive movement…they should lie on their side.”

“All right,” You agreed, carefully shifting so that you were no longer on your back. His hand lingered, as if testing for more movement.

He clicked his tongue when he received a defiant kick. You just sighed looking up at him from the pillow. “What else does it say?”

“Hmph. It’s mostly preventative behaviors you are supposed to do before sleep; lie down an hour beforehand…drink warm tea…light stretching…”

“I already do most of that. And I did before tonight, too.” You frowned. “I suppose I’m out of options.”

Saizo looked displeased; was there truly nothing else he could do? Turning the page, there only seemed to be a few other solutions. “Perhaps it is time to take up the offer from Hayato, to sew a pregnancy pillow. This says holding one of those when sleeping helps reduce movement.”

“But you’re my pregnancy pillow.” You protested. He coughed to disguise a laugh; were you always so ridiculous?

“Don’t speak nonsense. I’ll ask him about it come morning. But I suppose for now, the only other immediate option would be to talk to him. It’s not as effective, but talking to the child apparently helps in soothing them.”

“You know…that does sound plausible. He doesn’t seem to react very much while you’re talking.”

“I doubt that's the case. He still kicks when I speak." Saizo reminded you, as if you didn’t have the little one inside yourself and couldn’t feel every single move. You shook your head, patting his hand.

"But it's only after you stop talking. We ought to test this theory...could it be that he’s just lonely?” You wondered aloud, resting your hand over Saizo’s. “Is that why you’re so restless, my dear? It’s been too quiet?”

“Preposterous.” He scoffed, but fell silent all the same. You both looked at each other, waiting to see what would happen. Hardly half a second passed after he spoke, and immediately there was a kick.

“See? Keep talking!” You ushered him to continue, smiling bright. Saizo rolled his eyes, but complied all the same.

“If you’re going to keep your mother awake just because you cannot hear me speak, we will have many problems in the future, little one.” He spoke with great warning, and he paused to test the theory once more.

A few moments passed, and sure enough, another little kick.

It was getting more difficult for Saizo to mask the joy that was filling him every time the baby reacted to his voice. To think he was not even in the world yet but he knew who his parents were.

He was a miracle. A wonder.

He just…wouldn’t stop kicking his mother.

Saizo sighed when a tiny fist pushed into his fingertips. He shifted in the bed so that his head was in your lap, a delightful change for you. Instinctively your fingers ran through his hair, stroking it softly as he tended to his son.

“You are the sixth in a prestigious, honorable legacy of royal ninja. It is unbecoming behavior, treating your mother like this. A proper ninja would never be so disrespectful of her needing rest.”

You could’ve sworn you heard him stifle a chuckle when another hand bumped his cheek. His hand gently ran over your belly, attempting to soothe him once again.

“It is all right if you do not hear our voices, sometimes. Just because you cannot hear us does not mean we aren’t here. Besides, when I am away on missions, I will not be able to tell you stories. I’m afraid you’ll have to be able to live without me every now and then.”

“But it’s never forever.” You quickly added, always nervous when he spoke in such a way. Even saying something like “living without him” in the context of a few weeks…it did bother you terribly.

Saizo glanced up at you, taking your hand in his with a soft squeeze.

“Right. I would be a fool to abandon either of you. I have no plans of leaving you behind. I promise.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your fingertips.

As if you weren’t already deeply in love.

“So rest, dear one. It is long past time for all of us to be asleep. But we will talk again come morning.” His promise led to one last pause, waiting to see if he would continue his protest.

You waited…and waited…and then…

“He’s asleep.” You breathed a sigh of relief, both of you relaxing. At last, you were rewarded with a restful sleep.

He ran his hand across your baby bump one last time, before carefully slipping away and coming back up to his side of the bed. You leaned into him, welcoming his arm coming around your shoulder and gently taking you into his side.

“At last.”

“Thank you, Saizo...you're a miracle worker.”

“Do not thank me for doing my duty as your husband, and as his father. I will always be glad to ease your burdens.”

“That is why I’m grateful.” Your hand settled on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. “And it is also why I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now hush. We may rouse him again if he hears we are still talking.” He kissed your forehead quickly, and you could feel the heat of his face against your skin. He was such fun to tease.

You were blessed with the next few nights of peace and quiet. Especially now that you had a secret weapon.

Saizo made sure to be with you come bedtime, so that he might tell the baby about his day and soothe him with his voice.

You knew your husband took great pride and joy in the fact that he could do this for you, and that his son loved the sound of his voice.

So even on nights where he had to assist Ryoma with something late into the night, or had missions that would take him away, he made certain that he was there to help you both get a good night’s sleep.

The only thing that could have possibly made it sweeter, was when the little Saizo was born. He recognized his father’s voice and calmed without hesitation.

Your husband already adored his newborn son…but you were certain they’d be inseparable, bonded by the love of father and son (and said father’s delightful voice).

Though to be fair, you weren’t counting on Saizo the Sixth to have an “Asugi the Rebellious Teen Ninja” phase.

#saizo #corrin #fe 14 #fire emblem fates #fe fates #fe: fates #sairin #saizo x corrin #saizo x kamui #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!corrin #fem!corrin #f!mu #pregnancy prompt #pregnancy fluff #just so much fluff #we love saizo ;;;;;

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coffin-contemplator · 4 days

Text

❝one of drunkards & regrettable decisions❞ — 𝒶 𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, part I

Summary:

“‘Since when do you smoke, anyway?’ The agent clears his throat. ‘I quit, actually.’”

Please note! This is the first part of a trilogy, still currently in writing.

Sitting at a bar is something he hasn’t done for a long fuckin’ time and yet it’s definitely not nearly as relaxing and enjoyable as many people claim it to be. Who knows, though, maybe it all depends on the company you find yourself in. Certainly, whom he “chose” (if having no other option still counts as a choice, indeed) as tonight’s co-drinker doesn’t work miracles on his strained nerves in the slightest.

“Why do you always look so serious, Mister Special Agent?” The query catches him off guard as, in all honesty, he suspected the other man to be too preoccupied with his constantly refilling glass to pay him any mind. “Y’have a stick stuck up your ass or s’mthin’?”

The per cents in the man’s drinks have audibly started taking a toll on the user. Strahm catches every slur that reaches his ears.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replies sarcastically after a short while of considering whether he should even bother. “Maybe… Hmm, maybe it’s because I’m constantly surrounded by deathly traps and moronic sociopaths?” The way he spats out the words conveys all the confidence possible to muster (and it should be noted that Agent Strahm has a pretty abundant supply). And yet they’re all but truthful—lying just to hurt people isn’t something his moral compass forbids.

He’s seen a fair amount of those previously mentioned in his time and in all fairness, the latter just doesn’t fit the description. Some traits fit, of course, but the entirety paints a completely different picture.

As per usual, his companion doesn’t actually look bothered by Strahm’s foul mood. Even more so, the agent isn’t sure whether the other man is even listening anymore.

“Fair point,” Hoffman mutters but it’s rather dismissive. “Want ‘nother one?” He points eloquently at Strahm’s glass, still half-full.

The older doesn’t get the chance to answer before the barman is already pouring more scotch in.

As much as the agent hates to admit it, that’s one of the very few things that he finds impressive about the detective—the bottomless pit that his stomach turns into when it comes to alcohol.

Not that Strahm feels jealous, though. He’s just curious as to how it’s even possible for Hoffman to still own a functioning liver. Who knows? Maybe if he killed the man and donated his corpse for science, he would earn himself a fair amount of money for discovering a biological phenomenon.

The agent’s hand involuntarily falls into the pocket of his suit jacket, searching for something. Before he fully catches on, there’s a cigarette between his lips and a lighter found by the other palm.

Surprisingly, this earns him a strange look from the accompanying detective. “You sure about that?” He asks, and again, this time he shocks Strahm with the clarity of his tone.

The FBI agent raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like there’s a ban in here.”

“Obviously, it’s a bar.” How the one connects to the other, Strahm’s unsure of. “But the smell ‘s annoying,” the last comment is spoken way quieter than the rest of his statements.

“»Annoying«?” Strahm repeats with amusement, an unpleasant smirk now playing on his lips. “So the odour of burning bodies is fine but a bit of nicotine has you all worked up?”

“Shut the fuck up, ‘s not what I said,” Hoffman hisses, then downs the rest of yet another glass just for a good measure. Or maybe it’s to calm down. Perhaps both.

The lighter still in his hand, the agent plays with the idea. This newfound button might be something worth pushing in the future.

“Since when do you smoke, anyway?” One more glance at the detective and Strahm decides against his previous idea. As rough as the drunkards are expected to appear, this is something else—a completely different level of mess manifestation.

The agent clears his throat. “I quit, actually.” With that, he drops the fav back into the depth of his jacket. The lighter stays as a means of occupying his restless hands.

Jigsaw could’ve put him into any of his worst, rigged traps and Strahm still would not admit he felt a pang of guilt while staring at Hoffman’s expression as his eyes perceived the small nicotine stick. If anybody asks him, he just doesn’t really feel like smoking right now, actually. Change of mind, change of heart, that’s all.

He’s also pretty sure his companion, despite the intoxication, managed to catch how quickly Strahm’s attitude changed. Either way, neither comments on it anymore, both opting for semi-tense silence.

Drinks continue to flow for a good while but Strahm finds himself no more than tipsy as he’s getting through them slowly, more focused on the terrible taste rather than anything else. All the meanwhile, Hoffman seems to be spiralling more and more—something the agent thought would end around three glasses ago.

The idea of leaving crosses his mind a few times at this point and yet he doesn’t. He’s not sure what that might be but something is definitely keeping him glued to his seat.

A disruption in the stillness of the atmosphere eventually comes along with the sudden appearance of a stranger. A middle-aged man, making an impression of being neat and probably wealthy finds himself at Strahm’s side without him as much as catching on in time.

As the stranger starts speaking, however, his motives become embarrassingly clear. Strahm finds himself being awkwardly flirted with. But at this moment of the night, he can’t even bother with a polite smile. His expression stays stone-cold as he nods along to the stranger’s infirm monologue.

He doesn’t really mind that much—at the very least his brain perceives the “interaction” as some kind of stimuli.

His companion, of whom he might have started forgetting a little bit, doesn’t share his indifference.

“‘Ey, duffer!” Hoffman’s voice is loud enough for the stranger to involuntarily look up at him. “F’ck off, wouldya? This bastard’s not interested.”

The stranger blinks at him. “Sorry,” he smiles politely, even though for every sober eye it’s clear that the expression is forced. “But I don’t think you get much say in that.”

Strahm can see the putty in the guy’s eyes—he’s clearly not intimidated by the detective. The agent entertains himself with this thought… People underestimating Hoffman, even when he’s in that kind of state, is exactly what leads to tragedies later.

Despite his better judgement, he allows himself a small smile, before addressing his companion and therefore effectively cutting off both of the men who are still going at it.

“No need for hostility, darling,” he shoots over his shoulder with no small satisfaction for being able to use that pet name he knows Hoffman absolutely hates (or does he?). Turning back to the stranger, he looks him dead in the eye. “I believe, this man was just about to leave,” he informs.

The guy looks at them both, surprised, before awkwardly stumbling to his feet, apologising and getting as far as he can, as quickly as possible. Strahm briefly wonders whether the stranger thinks himself guilty for misreading the situation but it’s not like he cares enough not to forget about the query right away.

Well, there goes the last bit of tonight’s amusement, then. Although, the outcome turned out way more interesting than the agent would have anticipated.

He turns back to the bar and—simultaneously—to his glass still containing remains of alcohol. He grabs it and holds it up by his lips, as if considering something, before finally making up his mind and finishing the drink.

Here’s to that guy surviving the nearest future, then, he thinks to himself while settling on boring holes in his partner’s profile.

────── ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ──────

A/N: Thank you so much for stopping by! Hope you've enjoyed!

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englishstrawbie · 1 year

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Station 19 6x09

Maya being unable to concentrate on her meditation because all she can think about is Carina is relatable.

I’m still processing what we saw of Carina so this might be jumbled at time.

I felt for how nervous she was about turning up at the fire station for the clinic. At the end of the day (and as we saw in Jack and a little bit of Ben), these are Maya’s people. Yes, they like / love Carina too, but Maya is their family. They know enough to be concerned, but I don’t think they know enough about the extent of what is going on in Maya and Carina’s marriage or perhaps even the extent of Maya’s healing process - that would be consistent with what we’ve seen already. So the comment that she almost didn’t walk through the door felt very real.

She is obviously carrying a lot of hurt and anger and resentment at what happened that day at the hospital, so ignoring Maya’s voicemail at first and focussing on her work is understandable. She needs to compartmentalise.

The patient, Pam, was a bit much but in general it was okay. Like Carina said herself, she needed the distraction and the laugh at work today, and that’s what Pam provided. Carina has been carrying so much for so many months that it was nice for her to have the attention and for the conversation to be light and easy and fun. Do I wish that they’d shown us Carina’s answer to being asked out on a date? Yes. I’ve seen some rumblings that Pam is a recurring character, so it makes me a little nervous that we might see her again given how the conversation was left. But do I think that Carina is going to walk away from her marriage and settle down to have a baby with this woman she just met? No.

The more interesting part was the conversation around the fact that Pam had made the decision to have a baby by herself which - let’s face it - is an option I could easily see the writers taking with Carina. She wants a baby more than anything - ouch. More than her marriage? More than Maya healing? It happens, the desire to have a baby is so strong that people walk away from relationships - I’ve seen it in real life.

“My wife is... was a big part of that dream too” - double ouch. The fact that she changed her words to the past tense made me sad, that she’s now thinking about what this dream looks like without Maya. At the moment, and with the firm belief that all of this angst will eventually lead to them getting back together, I am rationalising that with the fact that Carina is hurting. She hasn’t had the benefit of breaking down her feelings with Diane or anyone else - at least, not that we’ve seen. She doesn’t know what her future looks like, if her marriage is going to survive, so she’s trying to figure out what that dream looks like by herself.

But then, she still went home - for what? Shampoo she could have bought at the drug store and a few coats? Hmm. I take comfort in the fact that, having eventually listened to Maya’s voicemail, she decides to go home, maybe to see for herself if Maya’s words are true. Because, let’s face, Maya might tell her that she’s working on herself and trying to be better, but there are good reasons not to believe her.

But Carina is not going to jump back in. The hurt of seeing Maya so broken in the hospital bed, of hearing Maya scream her name and blame her when all she was trying to do was protect her, is not something she can just forget - and I’m glad she told Maya that. The way her voice cracked was heartbreaking, but it also shows how much she loves Maya. And she’s angry that she had to go so far as to get a 5150 because Maya wouldn’t listen to her and wouldn’t get help when she begged her. For six months. So yes, great, Maya is going through the steps and of course that’s what Carina wants - but she didn’t do it when Carina asked.

She’s doing it because the fire department is making her.

Of course we, as viewers, know a lot more because we got to see the conversations between Maya and Diane last week. But Carina didn’t - all she sees is that Maya is doing this to get her job back because, once again, it comes back to her fear that she is second best to Maya’s career. That their marriage, their family and the desire to have a baby is second best.

That is a point I really hope they address in the near future.

#sorry for the length it turns out i had a lot of thoughts!#station 19 #carina deluca #maya bishop #my rambles

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jokertrap-ran · 9 months

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BAD MEDICINE ~Infectious teachers~ [PC GAME] Kashu Remu (Chemistry) Route Translations (Part 11)

MC’s name is retained as the original MC name Kawana Hina.

* Words within ‘ ‘ are spoken in English – *Spoiler free : Translations under cut! *T/N: So... its been 7 years since I started this? Wow. This project is old, this blog is old, I am old-

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

Hina: I’m done preparing for tomorrow’s classes, and all my homework’s done too. I didn’t forget anything, did I?

Hina: Hmm… That should be all. I should turn in early so that I’m ready to face all the challenges ahead tomorrow.

Hina: (Haa… I wouldn’t be surprised if Kashu-sensei came up with something weird again tomorrow…)

Hina: (Or maybe it’s even odder if nothing strange were to happen.)

Hina: …I feel like I’ve gotten used to it, actually. Who knows if that’s actually a good thing though…

Hina: Huh? An Incoming call this late into the night? Wonder who?

Hina: And it’s from an unknown number…

Hina: (It’s not someone I know, but unknown numbers don’t usually call at this hour either.)

Hina: Hello? Um, who is this speaking…?

Kashu: …Yo.

Hina: That voice… K-Kashu-sensei!? Err, why do you have my number?

Kashu: I’m a teacher, you know?

Hina: So I’m aware, but that’s besides the matter. Can I help you with something? You don’t sound too good…

Kashu: Ahaha, really? I see. You can tell, huh…

Hina: Kashu-sensei…? Did something happen?

Kashu: Yeah… guess it doesn’t work out after all. I don’t know why, though.

Hina: Um… sensei? What exactly do you mean by that…?

Kashu: The medicine, of course.

Hina: Oh…

Kashu: Ahaha, do you still remember what I’m talking about?

Hina: Of course I do. There’s no way I could ever forget.

Hina: (But even I know that he can’t possibly make a medicine that’s capable of reviving the dead.)

Hina: (I’m sure he knows that too, but why’s he still persisting till now…?)

Kashu: I’m giving up on it.

Hina: What?

Kashu: I mean, it’s all useless isn’t it? She won’t come back no matter what I do.

Kashu: You must think so too, don’t you?

Hina: Sensei…

Kashu: Thank you, for holding back on my account. I’m sure you must have wanted to say it.

Kashu: And thank you for playing along with me…

Hina: Erm…?

Hina: (He’s acting strangely… and he sounds really sad…)

Kashu: Also, I realized something..

Kashu: If I can’t revive her, then all I have to do is to join her on the other side.

Hina: W-What!? But she’s already…

Kashu: Yup, so all I have to do is to die. Simple, isn’t it?

Hina: What are you talking about!? You can’t do that! That’s stupid!

Kashu: ……

Kashu: Come on now, don’t say that.

Kashu: I mean… that’s the last option I have. It’s so lonely living alone like this…

Hina: Kashu-sensei! Wait… Hang on!

Kashu: For my last hoorah, perhaps the school would be best. I’m thinking of jumping off the roof there.

Kashu: Hehe, this school was pretty fun while it lasted.

Hina: Hey! Listen to me!

Hina: If it really was that fun, then wouldn’t you want to live!? You can still turn around now!

Kashu: It was fun, but also lonely. It is so lonely being all by your lonesome, you know?

Hina: You’re not alone! You know that, don’t you!?

Hina: Please, just consider those around you! Don’t say that you want to die…

Kashu: I’ve already made my decision.

Hina: You can’t do it! Sensei!

Kashu: I’m really happy that you helped me out with all my experiments.

Kashu: I really did feel a little less lonely during those times. I even thought that perhaps I wasn’t that alone in this world.

Kashu: So, thank you.

Hina: !!!

Hina: Sensei? Sensei! Kashu-sensei!? He hung up on me!!!

Hina: (I can’t just sit back and do nothing… I need to get to school and stop him!)

Mother: Eh!? W-Where are you going in the middle of the night!?

Hina: School! I need to get there, now!!!

Mother: Huh? Take care on your way there, you hear me!?

———————————————

Hina: Haa, haa, haah…!

Hina: (Since when was the school this far away!?)

Hina: (I don’t know if I’ll make it at this rate… Please let me be there in time!)

Hina: ……!?

Hina: D-Don’t tell me…

Hina: (I’ve gotta hurry!!!)

#bad medicine infectious teachers #bad medicine infectious teachers game #otome #rejet #translations #kashu remu #tojo kairi #shido kaname #yanagi ryota #kuzuha kakeru #nagihara taiki

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danses-with-dogmeat · 7 months

Text

Day 12 -- Caesar

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 12 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Somnophilia with Caesar x F!Six

Caesar is... super creepy and bad overall. Just had to put that out there. He's a bad guy, a very shitty person, and this is him still being shitty and bad.

That being said... he is pretty interesting to write for? Just the way that a person's mind, when they are practically deified, can become so egotistical as to think that the universe literally revolves around them and their experiences was just... wild to explore.

Anywho, I hope y'all like it?

This is another one though, DEFINITELY read the included for a whole SLEW of TWs.

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: (nonconsensual) Somnophilia, medical play, noncon/rape, aphrodisiacs, slavery, legion bullshit, entitlement & ego, restraints, (really) possessive sex, unhealthy relationships, obsession, allusions to erectile dysfunction, painful sex, breeding kink, purity kink, delusional and misogynistic Caesar, creampie, (author approves of absolutely none of this at all).

Words: 4k

“She looks so innocent this way, so… vulnerable. But I suppose that’s what sleep is, isn’t it? Vulnerability… You know,” Caesar ran his fingers over the sleeping courier’s arm, keeping his gaze locked to her peaceful expression, even as his head turned to better address Siri, where she stood across from him in the extended room of his tent. “Most social species understand this very idea. They post sentries for the pack while the others sleep, while they are exposed, unable to resist any fate which may befall them whilst they’re unconscious… A shame the courier didn’t have the option, nor the social resources, to take such measures. Hmm... When will she wake?”

He spoke still without looking at the slave. Siri need not be paid any mind, as she was merely the administrator, the examiner, and now her job was finished. Now, he and Six could be alone.

Finally.

“Soon.” She answered him quickly. “The herbal mixture should pass through her system in the next half hour, or so. Shouldn’t be longer than that, surely. Though, it’s not always easy to tell when–”

“Enough. That answer was adequate, I don’t need to hear your rambling. Is mine ready yet?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she could utter so much as a word.

“A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice. I don’t need every ingredient involved, or your life’s story.”

“Yes.” Siri’s voice was monotone. Unemotive, but unbothered.

It wasn’t like this sort of interaction was uncommon.

And Caesar… while he appreciated her function in his society, he’d never taken a particular liking to her. One thing was certain now, though. She didn't envy Courier Six.

“Good. You’re permitted to leave.”

She nodded to him, almost more akin to a bow, and moved to take her leave, before his cold voice stopped her once more.

“Oh, and Siri? Tell the others I’m not to be disturbed.”

One more affirming nod, and the tent flaps opened to allow her through. As they fluttered to a close, Caesar tore himself from Six’s table and went to take the herbal mixture Siri had left him into his hand. He swirled it around curiously in the mortar she’d prepared, before downing the bitter potion with a grimace.

The taste may have been rather grotesque, but the effect of the mixture was near immediate. Or perhaps it was merely placebo, but it mattered not. If it worked, who was he to care?

Caesar sighed aloud as he felt his body physically warm, his spine tingling as an anticipatory feeling settled deep in his gut. It was almost as though he could feel the way his pupils dilated, the way his blood ran hotter and faster through his veins.

The absence of pain was a boon as well, particularly in his head. He’d often considered utilizing this mixture’s effects on his worst headache days for that reason, but there were… adverse symptoms to consider.

Symptoms which he now planned on taking full advantage of.

“You have managed to do the near impossible, my pet.” He spoke now to the unconscious Six, strapped down on the medical cot she’d been examined upon. His voice was low, strained with a growing intensity of feeling, of the sensations roiling within him. Caesar was relieved no one was here to witness the way he was, so quickly, becoming undone.

“You…” Caesar paused to pant out a few heavy breaths, trying to keep from becoming completely overwhelmed at the licentious feelings spiraling through him, the promiscuous thoughts that barricaded his usually composed and aplomb mind. “You have surprised me. Quite the feat, I know.”

He approached her now, prowling like a possessed animal until he could brace his stiff hands on the side of the cot, and then run his fingers over her bare side.

Naked women in the Legion were about as common as clothed ones in any other society, but even still, to look upon the courier so wholly… The delicacy of it had his mouth watering, had his tongue wanting for a taste of what was now his.

Scars small and large littered her otherwise delicate skin, her muscles were toned from surviving in this harsh land, like many of the slaves they kept on such a rigorous schedule of serving. But even still… there was something alluring about her… unremarkable visage. Perhaps it was that she was a dead woman walking, as surreal to gaze upon as a ghost, but no less beautiful than a dancing spirit, however haunting one might be. She was the one, the point zero one percentile, that could evidently survive anything the wasteland threw her way. It was admirable; her tenacity, her cunning, the way she’d tried to betray him… her innocence too, was something he found tasteful.

Of course he’d been tracking her every move, having Vulpes or another Frumentarius listen in on her conversations. If he was ever going to trust her, he needed to know where her loyalties lay.

Caesar would never trust her though. Trust is a fickle thing that would just as soon stab you in the back as promise to be in your life forevermore.

No, but if he could control her… Then he could explore this curiosity of his, he could understand her, inside and out. She could be his.

All he needed was this. Siri to put her under, to do an examination, ensure she had no wasteland diseases she could give him, no seed of a previous partner already festering inside her, where only he belonged.

But the girl had come up clean. So clean, in fact, the minx had him wondering if she was pure… Oh, to be this creature’s first… To take something from this extraordinary person that can never be returned to her, and make it– make her– his own.

You’d have to be a fool not to see that Six was created for him, brought to him like fate delivers years upon the living; inevitably, forcefully, demanding your attention. Their meeting was as certain as the sunrise, as notable as the stars, and he’d known, from that moment, when he saw the twin scars upon her forehead, when he felt his pain pulse cripplingly in that very same spot within himself that he saw marked upon her… Caesar knew that their futures were tied with one another with so many bounds of rope.

“Now…” He continued speaking to her in hushed tones, his voice rough from the climbing arousal spreading through his body. “Now I will make you mine.”

His hands had been exploring her all the while Caesar was in his thoughts, dragging his shaking fingers over her smooth torso, her lower stomach, up to her shapely throat, her full breasts. Those, he paid particular attention to, noting the way he felt his cock begin to swell, with more than just what the herbs provided him.

A rare talent indeed.

He’d thought maybe it would be worth seeing if she could keep him hard all on her own, if she could get him all the way through his climax… But the herbs became more attractive when he remembered how long they lasted.

If only her own medication lasted longer. I like her this way. Pliant, yielding. Unable to interrupt me or refuse me at every turn.

There was a certain appeal to her resistance of him, the fire in her, and she chose to showcase it with her words and wit more so than with physicality, which was refreshing, but he wanted to at least be able to get her ready for him without such a fuss.

Six was tied down, so he didn’t fear too much unwillingness from her in that sense, but she was strong-willed, and would fight the arousal Caesar was bound to bring her, and if she truly was innocent, well…

He’d rather not have her in pain. As much as that sort of discipline worked wonders on their slaves, Six was his, not the Legion’s. He would not have her completely broken before she’s able to properly serve.

In time, who knows? She may come to have affection for him. Caesar knows that the possibility is there from the feelings he often finds festering within himself on those sleepless nights he thinks of her; the conversations they’ve had buzzing about his aching head, her expressions, the annoyed ones and the inquisitive ones, her anger and her mirth.

Caesar looked forward to the myriad of looks he would be privy to tonight.

Without further preamble, the Legion leader set his sights between her slightly spread legs. The bonds were holding her knees wide enough apart for him to slot his hips between them, but there would be time enough for that soon…

First, he set a finger upon her, starting at her entrance and smoothing the pad of it between her lower lips until he felt the point of her clit. She was still slick from the jelly Siri had used to examine her, but he could do better.

Raising that same hand to his nose, Caesar took a deep inhale and felt his limbs shake with anticipation as her musky, sweet scent curled around him until he could all but taste it. He was almost tempted to drink from the source, as it were, but that was for a night when she’d earned it, for when he was feeling more patient, and his erection wasn’t practically ripping a hole in his tunic.

No, he decided. Just his hands, for now.

Before he carried on, Caesar adjusted the bed that way he’d seen Siri do it, dropping it to be perfectly level with his hips.

It was orgasmic already, the way his head didn’t ache, the way the most discomfort he could feel was emanating from his swollen cock, and that too, would soon be rectified.

Caesar’s hand returned to her then, two fingers stroking around her folds, spreading the moisture that was already there down to her entrance and back up to brush over her sensitive little nub. Sparingly, he rubbed there with his thumb as well, until he felt it begin to swell under his touch and saw the way her hips twitched unconsciously upwards in her sleep. Usually, Caesar would never opt to give a woman pleasure this way. She was meant to derive it from ‘the bliss of servitude,’ but he knew it was bullshit. It was meant to demean them, and give his men an excuse not to be too distracted by the slaves here. They were meant to be used, not fallen in love with, not doted over, not pleased.

Six was his, though, and while he would discipline her the way he might a slave at first, he also planned on rewarding her when she was deserving of it.

Six’s breathing picked up in her sleep, and Caesar looked on with intensity at the way her brows furrowed over her closed eyes, the way her breasts jostled with every breath, the way her muscles tensed beneath his attentions. He licked his lips at the sight of it, at the feeling of her own unique wetness beginning to gather over his prodding fingers.

No more waiting. Caesar told himself, and pulled his hand away, scowling at the way her movements ceased, her breath slowed again.

She’ll be awake any minute.

Caesar stepped back to pull apart his tunic, moving the folds so he could reveal his erection to his unconscious companion. He hissed as the moist tip met the cool air of the Mojave night, and felt goosebumps erupt over his arms and the back of his neck at the sensitizing feeling. Trembling slightly, the leader stepped forward, his hand shaking as it guided the broad head of his cock to her little entrance. Six’s lower lips were dark with arousal that he dreamed mirrored his own, as he noted the dark color encasing his member, the way his own pre-arousal leaked from the weeping slit.

“Tu eris bonum mihi, meus deliciae, won’t you? My Six…”

It wasn’t often he became sentimental, least of all with women, but this… Caesar wished he could document it somehow. It felt pivotal, significantes, Homeric… fateful.

There were no proper words to describe the overwhelming feeling of one’s fate being fulfilled, of two destinies intertwining for the first time, when it was bound to have been planned out from the very dawn of the ages of man, and of the earth itself.

Perhaps he could request a painting from one of his more talented artists to commemorate an event such as this…

She was warm against him as he rubbed the tip of his length along her folds, not wishing to stall, but not wanting to rush through this process either. It would only happen once, after all. Especially if this was the moment in which he was stripping her purity away, in favor of endowing her with the honor of his occupancy en perpetuum.

With that thought fresh and desirable in his mind, Caesar slotted the head of his cock against her opening, pushing forward an inconsequential smidge, to the feeling of only a little resistance on her part.

A good sign.

A sigh escaped him as he gripped his cock more firmly with his hand, the other resting on her hip, his fingers sinking and dimpling the skin there.

She will accept me.

His eyes stayed trained between her legs as he began to unreservedly press inside. The movement only grows in its unyielding nature, as he feels her entrance stretch around him, as her walls expand to take his very shape. Like the artists of old, Caesar took her body like a slab of marble, etching his name into her, shaping and molding her to the image he perceived, to the one he desired. Her face was a work of art in and of itself, as Six’s eyes finally fluttered open, the color of them startlingly vivid as her gaze met with his. It was hazy with her fatigue, but her brows were drawn together in what he could only determine as discomfort.

It was all he could hope for.

Six waking up just as he settled completely within her. She was utterly full of him, and her breath hitched as the image she was met with made sense in her fatigued mind, as it melded with the sensations of her body.

She was likely to be sore already, what with Siri’s thorough examination, but after his anticipated attentions, Six would be lucky if she could stand in the morning.

With that smug thought, Caesar wrapped both hands around the swell of her hips, and hauled himself out until only the tip of his cock remained. Six’s eyes widened and glistened at her waterline as she felt the drag of him leaving her, and then, he slammed back in. It was with distinct effort that Caesar kept himself from repeating that euphoric action immediately and with even greater vigor.

Just once is enough. For now.

No breaking her. His cross mind reminded him. We have time.

“W-wha.. The hell?”

Six’s voice was weak, slurred a bit from her groggy awakening, but Caesar paid her no mind, only kept his eyes trailing hungrily over her form as he pulled back and delivered another dizzying thrust into her. Though this time, he did force himself to hold back, to move more slowly, despite the herb-enhanced sensations urging him on, on, on.

“F-fuck, what the hell? What are you doing?”

The pain of his last invasion seemed to spike her into reality faster than was usual with the medication she’d been given. Caesar couldn’t complain though. Not now that he was firmly within her, not now that his plans were in full motion.

“Taking what is mine by right. Lex nostra est. You are a woman in the Legion, what did you expect?” He spoke to her almost passively as he continued focusing on the physical, the bliss sparking through his doped up body as his pace steadily increased.

Truly, Caesar was being quite polite in terms of the Legion. He’d warmed her up, he was taking his time, he didn’t punish her for the way she spoke to him, so out of turn.

Others in her position likely would have been on their way to a cross by now.

Due to the circumstances though, Caesar would allow his Six a few select liberties. For now.

“Yours by– goddamn it, I never should’ve– Ah, fuck, get off of me!”

A panic seemed to set in, and she shouted rather dramatically as she strained against the ties that held her firmly to the cot.

“I’m serious, you asshole, get off of me now!”

Caesar paused in his thrusting, feeling the distinct pulse of his cock within her spasming walls as he panted heavily from above her struggling form.

“You command me?” He scoffed, “I don’t think so. Not here. Are you so blind as to not see it?”

Six's confused expression and distracted squirming were enough of an answer for him.

“The way that you belong with me?” He punctuated it with a violent surge of his hips against her, and Six's gaze locked to him with a gasp, as she fully ceased her struggles. Pure horror shone through her expression, disbelief and fear and disgust rampant in those vivid eyes, and Caesar had to keep from slapping her.

Am I really alone in my belief? It cannot be so…

Instead, he hiked his hips out of her until only his tip remained, and drove forward painfully until his hips smacked audibly against the skin of her ass. A yelp of pain left her throat unwillingly as he repeated the action, testing the strength of the cot’s bonds with every fervent, furious movement.

“You. Are. Mine.” Each word left him with a forceful buck of his hips, his teeth gritting together painfully as he felt his anger boil up inside him.

So be it. If breaking the ungrateful whore will get her attention, if it will force sense into her unreasoned mind and inject understanding into her stubbornness, then that is the sacrifice I will make.

The herbs he’d been given were known to do this as well, to increase all sensations, in addition to libido, to make one have less reservations, to feel emotions more vividly than usual.

Perhaps he should have saved a sip of the mixture for her. Maybe then her potential affections for him could've been forced to the surface.

“I’m not yours.” Six spat, crudely interrupting his thoughts as his gaze honed in on her: the way her fists clenched in pain against the metal sides of the cot, her gritted teeth, the tears running down over her temples, the veins bulging in her neck.

What a sight… If only she could understand.

“Are you a fool, Six?” Another painful thrust had the woman wincing away from him with tears in her eyes. “You truly believed you would be treated differently here? After you saw the other slaves, after Siri warned you what you might become if you stayed?”

“I d-don’t know… You talked to me, I thought…” She was starting to look confused now, some sort of female hysteria setting in and causing her to go numb, he was certain. It happened with many slaves during their breaking.

So soon though… maybe she’s not the spitfire I thought she was.

“I trusted you.” Six said with a snarl and a realization, and Caesar half-grinned at the savagery that rose within her in just that short moment.

Ahh, I thought too soon. Good.

“Get fucking off me! Can you just– I want to talk, we can discuss–”

“No, Six. I’m not leaving until you understand. Meus es.” He pushed forward then with finality, sinking into her more slowly as he let his body lay upon hers, his hands sliding up from her hips, grazing over her belly, up to both breasts, then to cage in her face from either side.

“You are mine.”

His grip tightened until he could feel her jaw tensing, feel the bones beneath the swell of her cheeks.

“Nothing you say or do from here onwards can change that. You have been mine, since I first heard your story.” He was still panting from his exertion, but his voice was less feverish now. The certainty of his resolve was plain within it. “A life as indestructible as yours, a mind so impenetrable, to mix with my brilliance, my power… We’ll be insurmountable.”

Six’s mouth hung open, maybe in shock, maybe in awe, and maybe those were just too similar to bother distinguishing between. Nonetheless, Caesar took advantage, and plunged his lips against hers, capturing her opened mouth with his tongue, conquering and swiftly pulling away before she had a chance to bite.

She would yield to him, in time. Already, his muse was doing beautifully. A fine mix of resistance and submission that had his cock swelling and his thoughts running wild with the possibilities.

He was growing close, and so, Caesar pulled away again, until he was fully out of her. The action– his absence– he hoped would make Six realize how she craved the feeling of him filling her. She would associate this gaping nothingness, the want that came with it, with her desire for him to remedy it, to make her feel whole once more.

Six needed him.

She had to see it that way, had to see that they would be unstoppable as a force, that the Legion was meant to thrive, with them leading the way. The future of this great faction lies within the realm of both of their responsibilities. She needed him to lead her and the faction both, needed him in order to become a mother, as he knew all women craved, and… He needed her as well. For the future of his faction, Caesar needed her to bear his heir before the pain in his mind took him for good.

She needed his intellect, he needed her wit. He craved the way she amused him, and she surely needed an audience.

They completed each other in every way possible, and that fact was evident, as Caesar reinserted himself and surged forward until he felt the very last resistance within her. Six cried out and her body tensed deliciously around him.

Instead of pulling away for another thrust, Caesar merely ground his hips against her, keeping himself buried as far as he could go and laying waste to the last barricade within her. She bucked her hips in discomfort beneath him, lost for words as she whined out incomprehensible expletives and writhed against the feeling of him within her.

Sweat beaded on Caesar’s forehead, lightning shot in bursts down his spine, and his hands gripped her hips until they were sure to leave marks there, but finally, he felt his bliss reach a peak, he felt himself tense up, felt his length swell further within her, and then he was bursting against that final, defensive rampart deep inside. Vise-like walls gripped him until he felt wrung of all his blistering, white seed as her body reacted favorably to his final claiming of her.

It took Caesar a moment before he could see or hear anything but bright, splotchy colors surrounding him with his explosive release, but when the fog began to clear from his head, when the last rope of spend leaked out from his eager slit, he heard the way Six moaned out his name.

Perhaps it was to curse him, to ask him one last time to get off of her, or maybe he had her. Maybe she’d come to realize all he said was true. Maybe now she knew she was his.

It didn’t matter too much to Caesar, regardless. If Six was cursing him or declaring her dedication to him, he would know her true colors in the coming months. For now, though, for tonight, it didn’t matter what she said or felt. She would grow used to this, in time.

Perhaps even by the end of the night. Caesar thought, and felt his blood begin to boil up again.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas npcs #fallout nv #fonv #new vegas #caesars legion #caesar fonv #caesar #fnv #fnv courier #courier six #f!six #dwd.nsfw #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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ichinisankaku · 5 days

Text

Backstage Translation - Sharing Out Cuteness (Part 2)

Sakuya: Muku-kun, have you had this chocolate before? Looks like it's being sold at a nearby supermarket for a limited time next week.

Muku: Ah! That truffle's from a brand that's super popular online. You can't order it, so I thought I wouldn't be able to eat it.

Sakuya: Let's go check it out together, then!

Muku: Yeah!

Homare: Ooh, here you two are!

Sakuya: Homare-san?

Muku: What is it?

Homare: Right. I have a present for you two.

Muku & Sakuya: These tea bags are…!

Homare: They're the rabbit ones you showed me the other day. I happened upon them at a supermarket just earlier.

As you said, Sakuya-kun, there are animals other than rabbits, and so I bought a whole variety of them. I'll give these ones to you.

Sakuya: Thank you very much, I'm so happy!

Muku: Let's drink them right away! I'll boil the water.

Sakuya: I'll prepare the cups, then.

Homare: …

Homare: Fu fu fu…

Hisoka: …You're in a good mood.

Homare: Ooh, you're here, Hisoka-kun!

You see, Sakuya-kun and Muku-kun were very pleased with the animal tea bags I gifted them.

Their happiness made buying them worth it. I know! I shall give one to you as well, Hisoka-kun!

Hisoka: …Marshmallows'd be better.

Homare: Hmm… for you, perhaps a cat rather than a rabbit? Or maybe a penguin…?

Hisoka: …You're not listening.

Izumi: …Phew.

(Shouldn't be too long now until these documents are done… wait, it's that late already?)

(Well, I'll keep going until I reach a good stopping point anyway.)

*door opens*

Homare: Oh my, I was wondering who it was. If it isn't Director-kun.

Izumi: Homare-san! So you're still awake.

Homare: Indeed. I was making good progress on my writing, and before I knew it, night had befallen us.

Izumi: It's hard to stop when you're on a roll, isn't it.

Homare: Are you working as well?

Izumi: Yeah. I plan on going for a bit longer.

Homare: Wonderful timing, then. I was about to brew some tea, would you care for some as well?

Izumi: Oh, I'd love some!

Homare: Thank you for waiting.

Izumi: Wow, cute! It looks like the rabbit's soaking in a bathtub!

Homare: Doesn't it just? Sakuya-kun and Muku-kun told me about them.

Izumi: Seems like the type of thing those two would like. It smells lovely too, just looking at it is soothing.

Homare: I shall gift you some too. They're a good companion for work.

Option 1: I'll take you up on that

Izumi: I'll take you up on that, then.

Homare: For you, maybe a cat, or a dog… no, you should have both of them.

Izumi: I can have two?

Homare: Of course. After all, it was thanks to you that I came upon them at all.

Izumi: It was?

Homare: They were at the supermarket we stopped by during the day.

Izumi: Oh, it was then! I noticed you bought some stuff, but I didn't think they would be this cute.

Option 2: I'd feel bad

Izumi: I'd feel bad, though.

It'd be better to give these to Sakuya-kun and Muku-kun…

Homare: No need to worry about that. They were the first ones I gifted these to. Therefore, you can accept them without restraint.

Izumi: You're sure? In that case… I'll take these.

Izumi: Thank you very much. I'll use them when I want to feel relaxed.

Sakyo: …

Izumi: Sa-Sakyo-san, do you think it's maybe time to take a break?

Sakyo: …Good call.

Homare: If you're taking a breather, you should try one of these tea bags!

Sakyo: Excuse me?

Homare: For you… I know. This lion one is rather good, isn't it?

Or perhaps your preference lies with this herbal tea penguin?

Itaru: …Homare-san's been handing out a lot of those recently, hasn't he? I got some too.

Hisoka: …He said he went to buy more just to hand them out.

Izumi: Everyone's pleased with them, so I think it's great.

Yuki: Well, it's not like it's an issue to get tea bags.

Tsuzuru: Even so, Arisugawa-san butting in when Furuichi-san looks like THAT is… pretty amazing.

Taichi: When Sakyo-nii's irritated from the numbers not adding up, I can't talk to him! Not at all!

Hisoka: …Alice doesn't know fear.

Part 1

#a3!#a3! translation #act! addict! actors!#homare arisugawa #muku sakisaka #sakuya sakuma #izumi tachibana #hisoka mikage #sakyo furuichi

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dracoqueen22 · 8 days

Text

For Maia: Chadley/simulated!Cloud - Chadley programs a Cloud simulation to practice flirting with

Chadley has had approximately (exactly) forty (seven) conversations with Cloud Strife, but somehow, guiding the topic beyond their mutually beneficial research partnership has turned his tongue to knots.

It’s unexpected, the way his heart flutters and his face warms, the very moment he spies his favorite speci– err, candidate.

Cloud either does not notice or is kind enough not to comment.

Chadley decides (hopes) it is the former over the latter. Cloud is kind in his own way, but Chadley would prefer to present a fully capable front. Unfortunately, he is too organic to simply reprogram the stutters out of his vocabulary, and while he’s read every instructional manual he was capable of downloading, none of them have presented a solution to solve this particular quandary.

The simulator is MAI’s idea.

“If it’s good enough for Cloud, it’s good enough for you,” she says. “And let’s face it, buddy, you need the practice.”

“I do not,” Chadley grits out.

(He definitely does.)

Virtual!Cloud is a near-perfect copy of the real Cloud. Chadley borrows data from the battle simulator and every recorded interaction, plus his own personal observations, to approximate a digital version of his favorite candidate.

Theoretically, with enough practice in the virtual world, Chadley will behave with dignity in the natural world. No more hot cheeks. No more stammering thoughts. Nothing but a scientist who is cool, calm, and collected.

“Just don’t get up to anything NSFM, alright? I’m watching, you know,” MAI says.

Chadley does not recognize the acronym. “NSFM?”

“Not safe for MAI!” She giggles and vanishes with a burst of glittery, virtual particles.

Now it’s just Chadley and Virtual!Cloud in an empty, virtual space.

“Hmm.” Chadley activates the holo panel and considers available settings. “It won’t do any good to practice in an obviously fabricated environment. I need more realistic parameters.”

He considers his options and dismisses anything related to Midgar. The city holds too many unpleasant connotations. No, what they need is a fresh start. Somewhere bright and cheerful with fresh air and sunlight.

Somewhere outside Kalm, perhaps. There are quite a few scenic spots that have been noted by local photographers, so Chadley picks one and builds it into the virtual space. There. A cliff overlooking the ocean with lots of grass and flowers underfoot. Perfect.

The setting blooms to life around them and Chadley deactivates the holo panel. Now it’s just him and Virtual!Cloud on a cliff on a bright, sunny day. Perfect.

Chadley stares at Virtual!Cloud and Virtual!Cloud… doesn’t stare back. His face is too blank for that. Empty.

Unactivated.

Oh!

Chadley taps the controls and Virtual!Cloud blinks. He looks around as if he’s confused, that little pinch between his brows.

“Cloud!” Chadley waves to get his attention. “What a surprise to run into you here!”

No, that’s inane.

Virtual!Cloud looks back at him. “How did I get here?” he asks. He plants his hands on his hips, but he looks more bewildered than angry.

Hmm. Perhaps a touch too realistic.

Chadley pauses, rewrites a few lines of code, and tries again.

“Cloud!” He smiles and waves. “It’s nice to see you again. I have worked hard on all of the data you’ve been collecting. I think you’re really going to like what I’ve created.”

Wait. No. That’s just business.

Chadley frowns. He’s doing this all wrong. Also, he didn’t re-activate Virtual!Cloud. Gods, Cloud makes him so flustered. Even a virtual one.

He tries again. Minor adjustments uploaded. Virtual!Cloud activated. Chadley takes in a deep breath, exhales, and starts over.

“Cloud! I’m glad to see you’re looking well,” he says, which is both true because Virtual!Cloud is a near copy of actual Cloud, and because Cloud gets into very dangerous situations, and Chadley often worries. Though he knows he shouldn’t.

Cloud is more than capable of taking down anything.

“... Thanks,” Virtual!Cloud says. “Uh, is that all?”

“Actually,” Chadley starts and stumbles. Even in practice this is difficult. “I was hoping you would be willing to assist me in a new venture.”

Virtual!Cloud tilts his head, a cute pinch of confusion between his eyebrows. Programmed perfectly. “You want me to kill something?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Chadley says, waving his arms. “It’s something of an, eh, personal nature…?” He trails off and gives Virtual!Cloud a look.

People initiate dating protocols via lots of subtle words and gestures, Chadley’s read. He needs to master these if he has any chance of being successful.

Virtual!Cloud squints. “Personal?”

“Yes,” Chadley says with more confidence than he feels. “I would be honored if you’d accompany me on a personal errand. I would be happy to include a meal and a beverage afterward.”

Food and drink, both key factors of social interaction with interpersonal relationships. Also, sustenance is an important part of daily functioning. Cloud looks like he could use a few hearty meals and some relaxation, perhaps on a beach?

Oh, no.

Cloud on a beach. He certainly couldn’t wear his usual uniform. He’d have to dress more comfortably. Show more… skin. Even more skin than when he was wearing that dress, with the make up and the hair and–

Oh, dear.

“Your face is red,” Virtual!Cloud says, much more astute than the actual Cloud.

Chadley spins around, hits pause on the simulation, and tries to get ahold of himself. He finger-combs his hair, takes a few deep breaths, waits for the heat to leave his cheeks.

This is going to be a lot harder than he thought.

Chadley’s going to need a heck of a lot more practice.

***

#Cloud Strife #Chadley #SFW and cute as a button #flash fiction fills #Chadley/Cloud #ff7 remake & rebirth #ff7 fanfic #draco writes #draco writes fanfic #unedited fics

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i-like-words · 8 months

Text

Checking In (MTaP)

Dusting off this ancient account to post a bit of the My Time At Portia Arlo/Builder!self ficlets that have been absolutely dumping out of me lately. seriously it's just been like. non stop writing for two weeks straight, this video game man has done unspeakable things to my brain and I love it

some lore and context: Adri was discovered frozen within a massive ruin, thawed out, reawoken after a stupid amount of years and whoops - turns out they have Trauma™ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ luckily our favorite good guy redheaded captain takes it upon himself to keep them out of trouble :)

this particular bit takes place like a week after Adri is introduced as the new Builder - they go MIA, leading Arlo and Merlin to swing by the old workshop

(As an aside, my Builder!self is non-binary. By this point no one within the canon knows this, so characters will refer to them with she/her while the narrative uses they/them, just to assuage any confusion or cw people beforehand of misgendering - it's intentional but temporary)

ANYWAY

cw for swearing and aforementioned misgendering

Arlo stepped through the gate and looked around. The yard had become quite overgrown and the workbench was strewn with stray leaves. It looked as though none of the equipment there had even been touched. There was no sign of Adri. Merlin peered over the scene and began jotting down notes.

Approaching the door to the little shack, Arlo noticed the lights were off.

"Do you suppose Adri is out for the day?" he asked.

"Mm, unlikely," Merlin replied, not looking up from her notebook. "Considering no one has really seen nor heard from her since the fireside chat. Not even the farm girl or her grandmother across the way."

Slowly, Arlo reached out and rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles. "Hello?" he called out.

Silence.

He knocked again.

"Anyone home? It's Arlo, from the Civil Corp. I'm here with Director Merlin from the Research Center. I'm sure you remember us from... before."

More silence.

"Uhh, listen. Mayor Gale asked us to check in on you, since no one has really, er, seen or heard from you in a handful of days. You... um, don't have to open the door, but give us a sign that you're alive...?"

"Though opening the door would be the preferable option," Merlin interjected.

Still no answer. Arlo chewed his lip. He wondered if maybe Adri was simply sleeping... understandable that someone who'd been reawakened after being frozen for a few hundred years would probably want to nap off that whole ordeal. But, still, as the one put in charge--self-appointed, yes, but in charge--of making sure Adri was safely acclimating to life in Portia, Arlo hoped that his first check-in with the new Builder wouldn't end with him breaking down the door.

Before he could contemplate that scenario further, said door suddenly parted, ever so slightly, from the door frame; Adri's pale face was barely visible through the open crack. Dark eyes glowered at Arlo, then at Merlin.

"There. I'm alive. Now go away," they said flatly, and with that, the door was shut once more.

Arlo stood there awkwardly, startled, but relieved he wouldn't, in fact, have to resort to property damage. At least not today. "Oh. Ah, that's... good. Um. I... we were hoping to maybe speak with you, see if there was perhaps anything you might need...?"

"What I need is for you to leave me alone," came the muffled, yet terse reply from behind the closed door. Merlin scribbled into her notebook.

"Hmm. Specimen... displaying... antisocial tendencies..."

"You're not helping," Arlo sighed to Merlin, before addressing the door again. "Uh, can we at least ask you a few questions?"

Silence.

"I promise once we're done we'll both leave you be. You have my word."

Silence.

"Do these so-called 'wellness visits' of yours always go this poorly?" Merlin asked, shouldering Arlo aside. She then knocked on the door. And hard. "Ms. Adri, while I understand you're going through a rather difficult period of adjustment, this an important matter, and neither myself nor Mr. Arnold will be vacating the premises until we can speak with you face-to-face."

Silence.

"You were saying?" asked Arlo pointedly, moving himself back in front of the door.

Merlin folded her arms indignantly. "Hmph..."

"Um... sorry about that, Adri," Arlo continued. "Just ignore what she said. Anyway, we're glad to see that you're, in fact, not dead, and it's, uh... pretty clear that you're not exactly in the mood to be social right now, which is totally fine, so we'll... just come back later."

He was about to turn to leave, when the door reopened and swung out slowly with a long creak. Adri stood there in the turnstile, squinting against the sunlight. Their clothes were disheveled, their shoulder-length hair was a tangled mess, and they had dark bags under their eyes. They looked like they hadn't gotten any sleep in days.

The Builder looked between the researcher and the Captain with intense disdain, then turned away and trudged into the dark, unlit void of the house. Merlin followed, notebook in hand. Tentatively, Arlo stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

There wasn't much to the little ramshackle house--four walls, a roof, and a modest wooden bed topped with moth-eaten sheets sat in the corner, nestled beneath a cracked window. The floor groaned under Arlo's boots, and he noticed some floorboards were missing. What little belongings Adri had had been unceremoniously dumped around; even the Builder's clothes that were given to them as a welcoming gift were laying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed.

Adri slumped onto the edge of the mattress, crossing their arms over their chest, shoulders hunched as if they were trying to fold into themselves.

"Make this quick," they muttered. Their gaze fell into middle distance, and their expression was blank, unfeeling.

Merlin looked up from her notes. "Yes, well," she began, leafing through some pages. "I'll be asking you a series of questions, you answer as honestly and as thoroughly as you can. Don't spare any details, even if you think they aren't important."

"Okay."

"All right... How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." The answer came out before the question had bothered to finish being asked.

Merlin blinked in mild surprise. "Erm, can you... perhaps be a little more specific? Try to refrain from single-word answers."

At this, Adri's head--and eyes--lolled back, and they heaved an irritated sigh. "Oh, my god, fine--I'm 'fucking terrible'. Is that better?"

Merlin did not look amused. She clicked her tongue. "Right. Moving on, then... Have you been experiencing any unusual physical or mental phenomena? Any short-term memory loss, disassociation, or particularly strange dreams or visions?"

"Oh, yeah... I've definitely been having strange visions lately."

Merlin perked up at this. "Have you? Can you describe these visions?"

"Let's see: some blue-haired bozo in dumb glasses shows up and asks me a bunch of stupid ass questions," Adri replied in a flat monotone, their expression unchanging. "I'm having one right now, in fact."

It took a great deal of effort from Arlo to stifle a chuckle. He was always so used to Merlin being the dry and sarcastic one; it was kind of a nice change of pace watching her get a taste of her own medicine. He could see the researcher's jaw jut forward angrily as she wrote something into her notebook before snapping it shut.

"Ms. Adri," she said, the patience dropping from her voice. She removed her goggles and eyed her interviewee as a parent does when lecturing an unruly child. "I am trying to help you. The very least you could do is take this seriously."

"'Help'...?"

In an instant, Adri's cold, indifferent expression changed. Their eyebrows shot up, disappearing into a thick curtain of dark hair. Merlin and Arlo both were taken aback as they suddenly began laughing--a short, bitter bark of a laugh.

"You're trying to 'help' me?" they sneered, rising from the bed and slowly walking forward. Their fists were clenched so hard they were trembling. "Just like you fucking 'helped' me by dragging my half-dead body back into consciousness, in a completely foreign world, separating me from everything I've ever known and loved by HUNDREDS OF YEARS!? THAT kind of 'help'...?!"

Adri was stopped short by a long arm extending in front of them, shielding Merlin, and they glared daggers up at its owner.

"That's enough," Arlo said, his thick brows furrowed. "I don't want to use force on you, but I will if I have to." Beyond his outstretched arm, Merlin was bracing herself behind her notebook and was staring at Adri with fear and anger in her eyes. Adri scowled.

"Tch. Unbelievable... Treated like a damned experiment and I'm expected to be grateful," they mumbled, looking away. Arlo caught a glimpse of a tear sliding down their face, glinting in the dim light of the window. They crawled back onto the bed and curled up into a ball, facing away from their visitors. "Just leave me alone already."

Arlo sighed, running a hand through his tousled red hair. He looked to Merlin. "We should probably go," he said, quietly. Merlin opened her mouth to interject, but, to Arlo's great relief, decided against it.

"...Very well."

They both turned to leave and Arlo opened the door to allow Merlin through. She strode outside, making a beeline for the front gate without another word, no doubt mentally cursing to herself for having to go back to the Research Center strapped for new data. Once she was far enough away, Arlo looked over his shoulder at the small, vulnerable figure laying there, alone, in the dark. Guilt tugged at the inside of his chest.

Adri heard the front door close with a soft click. A brief pause, and then:

"I know she isn't the best at dealing with people, but you mustn't blame Merlin," Arlo said quietly, his gaze fixed on the wood grain of the door. "It wasn't her idea to bring you back. It was mine."

Silence.

"I was the one who found you in the ice," he explained. "And I was the one who insisted that we help you. If you resent me for that, then that's okay. I accept that. You're well within your right to be angry, and... if you're going to be angry at anyone, you can be angry at me."

More silence. Arlo placed his hand on the door's handle. Just as he opened his mouth to apologize for the trouble and make his leave, he was cut off by the nearly inaudible--but unmistakable--sound of sniffling.

"Why did you have to bring me back...?" Adri whimpered, their voice thick and cracking. "Why didn't you just leave me there...?"

Arlo froze. The statement hung heavily like a yoke on his shoulders, pinning him to the spot. He turned and looked over at Adri helplessly as their body shuddered with silent sobs, unsure of what to do. He wanted so badly to comfort them, but he didn't know if he could... or if he even should. Shit. He knew today's visit probably wouldn't go smoothly, but... he had not been prepared for this.

"I... I felt like I had to," he said, crestfallen. Hesitantly, he walked over and sat at the foot of the bed, allowing as much space between himself and Adri as he could manage. "But... I am sorry. Hate me all you want, but please know that I only ever wanted to give you a chance."

"I never asked for your help," Adri mumbled into their pillow. "I never asked for any of this."

"I know." Arlo rubbed at the back of his neck as his gaze fell to the dusty wooden floor.

Another sniffle. "But... I don't hate you."

Arlo looked up again.

"You don't...?" he asked gently, mild surprise in his voice.

"No," Adri responded, heaving a shaky sigh. "I don't even hate that blue-haired bozo, or really, anybody here. I understand why you went out of your way to help me, but I was probably better off being frozen..."

"What makes you say that?"

"Under any other circumstances I'd be happy to have a second chance," Adri said, wiping tears away from their eyes. "I can't even say that my old life was super fucking great anyway, but... it was mine. Knowing that everything that made my life what it was is just... gone, it--" They trailed off, their voice wavering before letting out another sob.

Arlo said nothing, and he sat there, solemnly, as Adri grieved. After a few minutes, they went quiet again.

"Sorry..." they said, sniffling.

"What for...?"

"For making everyone worry, I guess..." Adri rolled over and sat upright. Their eyes were puffy and red, and their cheeks and nose were shiny with tears and mucus. "After Gale introduced me during the meeting thing, everyone was just so... nice. It was a lot. I didn't know how to deal with that, so I've just been holing up in here all week and feeling sorry for myself... I'm sure they all must think I'm an asshole."

"You're not an arsehole; you're going through a lot," said Arlo. "More than anyone in town could possibly know or even imagine. Yes, Gale is a bit of a worrywort, that's just how he is, but I doubt he's expecting you to seamlessly integrate into society overnight."

"Maybe... but he sure seems to believe that I can just pick up a hammer and magically become a Builder..."

Ah, yes. That. Gale had suggested, in the interest of keeping their origins a secret, that Adri be introduced to the townsfolk as a new Builder to avoid any unnecessary panic or conflict. If word of the truth got out, it could spell all sorts of trouble, not just for Adri, but for Portia, perhaps even for all of the Free Cities.

"I understand that it's probably a lot to ask of you, especially when you're already dealing with so much," Arlo said. "But, unfortunately, it's a necessary evil, to keep you safe. At least for now."

Adri sighed, running a hand through their long curls. "I know, I know... I'm just having a hard time understanding why you're going through the trouble of doing all of... this in the first place." They gestured vaguely around at the house. "What do you get out of protecting me?"

Arlo blinked, looking visibly confused. "What... do you mean...?"

Adri gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously...? C'mon, man. There are obviously people out there who'd stand to benefit a great deal by me being here, whether, like, academically or monetarily or whatever. ...So what's stopping you from just handing me over to some science lab? Or the government? Why even concern yourselves at all with what happens to me? What am I to you?"

They folded their arms over their knees and looked sullenly out the cracked pane of the window. The cynicism in their voice had left Arlo stunned. He stared, his expression wavering between shock and disbelief before it finally settled on pity.

"You're someone who deserves to live," he said, his voice saddened. "Even if you... believe otherwise."

Adri sighed again, heavily, their gaze still fixed out the window. Silhouetted by the light outside, their face appeared even more tired and weary than before.

"I'm just some random idiot you found in the ice," they mumbled into their knees, hugging them tighter. "You can tell Gale I'll play along with the Builder shit eventually. Right now, I... just want to be left alone."

Arlo nodded; he knew a hint when he heard one. "Okay," he said, patiently, standing up from the bed, and he turned to leave. Boots thudded across the creaky floor, stopping just before Arlo reached the doorway. He looked over his shoulder.

"Would you... be all right with me coming back tomorrow? To check in on you?" he asked cautiously. "If you'd rather I not, then I understand."

Adri quietly considered this for a moment.

"Yeah... okay."

The Captain gave a confirmatory nod. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, gripping the door's handle. After a beat, he added, "and, uh, I'll make sure not to let the blue-haired bozo tag along this time."

At this, the faintest of smirks flashed across Adri's face as they let out an amused chuff, the closest thing to a genuine laugh Arlo had yet heard from them--and he was more than happy with that. He smiled, said goodbye, and left.

He went to sleep that night feeling... strangely optimistic.

#my time at portia #mtap #mtap arlo #mtap merlin #arlo x builder #nb!Builder #builder!self #arlo x adri #arlo x nb!Builder #arlo x builder!self #self ship #some angst #fluff on the bottom #selfshipping #fictional other #italics abuse #ellipses abuse #cw swearing #cw misgendering

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dathomirdumpsterfire · 5 months

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Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

Want to be on the tag list? Have an idea for next chapter? Clicked the wrong option? Reblog or Comment with 'tag me'! New? Check the very bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 9~

Obi-Wan watches the end of Maul's translucent fins disappear beneath the water line, and scrubs a hand down his face. The jedi turns away, and plops down in a mediation pose next to the magma ball.

He hadn't quite realized the extent of it before, but the sith's mind was not… whole.

It had come out in the dips and flows of conversation. In questions about concepts that were common knowledge. Odd moments where yellow eyes would twitch off to the side, or stare into the distance. He expected any sith to be a little crazy, driven halfway to madness by the darkside itself, yes, but... this was something more.

Maul the dragonfish was a very different man from the unblinking, uncompromising apprentice he'd faced at Theed. Was it the… transformation? Was this clever, curious mind underneath the expressionless assassin all along? Was the sharp wit and quick tongue natural, or new? Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever find out for sure.

And none of that really changed his most startling realization yet: that Maul was strangely good company when he wasn't being psychotic.

All the kidnapping and such aside, Obi-Wan hadn't… he hadn't played like a youngling tussling on the floor for the fun of it in... years? Hadn't curled up with someone to sleep next to since… well. It has been a bit. Bless him, but Anakin is a handful. Adults-only time for training and private pursuits had perhaps not been as common as they should have been these past six years.

It did not help that being on-world and free at the same time as his usual partners for casual assignations simply didn't happen enough for his, ah… tastes. Bant was a prodigious, in-demand healer, and Kit was always hairing off on another adventure.

Actually, the dry spell might explain why he couldn't stop wondering about…

More importantly, it didn't help that for being the prisoner of an evil, insane sith, Obi-Wan finds himself ever more comfortable. That was surely a bad sign. There was some sort of prisoner psychology thing… stackhold or some such? Yes, his experience was probably being colored by that.

He finds himself a bit concerned that such a thing could set in so quickly. His stay at the bottom of the sea thus far was measured in days, not weeks or months. Was his mind prone to the… stackholding?

Obi-Wan regrets not taking more psychology classes as a knight.

The jedi master hums, leaning closer to the black stone to soak up it's radiant heat.

“I need to stop enjoying myself when he picks on me,” he tells himself. “He's being a bully, and just because I like it doesn't mean it's okay to encourage him.”

Obi-Wan resolves to stop rising to provocation.

“I need to stop responding with humorous rejoinders when he is being a smart ass,” he affirms as well. “It only provides him openings to be entertaining and establish… rapport, and rapport leads to regard, which leads to…”

He resolves to be more bland in conversation.

“I must find a way to free myself. Anakin needs me. My duty is to the order, and to the people of the galaxy at large,” he states the obvious. "Though Maul seems... really quite lonesome, actually. Hmm."

His meditative self reflection continues, turning over those thoughts.

Yes he needed to go home, and to go home he needed to escape… but how? Plan Aurek had been a supreme failure.

Obi-Wan knew of a fair few animals, had connected with hundreds of different species in his lifetime… but rarely did he encounter one that was capable of prevaricating. The octopus he had called for aid had come… but it had been sentient enough to lie. To cunningly send him feelings of curiosity and friendliness under false pretenses.

The gorogoro had betrayed him. It had died horribly for it, but that was no comfort.

Obi-Wan sighs. That really had not been a good result for anyone. He still needs help though. Down, over, that way, something like a hundred yards off, he could feel the faint twinkle of his kyber. He assumes -hopes really- that his rebreather is there too.

With a heavy heart, he reaches out into the seas with the force, very careful to avoid the nexus of darkside that is Maul, and the glimmer of other gorogoro. He does not want a repeat of the previous situation, but he will not simply give up.

‘Hello?’ Obi-Wan calls, in feelings instead of words.

‘I’m friendly. I'm safe. I need help,’ he sends.

His gentle energy reaches plenty of creatures, but nothing so dexterous or intelligent as an octopus. Little fish swarm by the water’s edge, excited enough to make little plips and plonks of noise. They can't help him, but the sweetness is heartening nonetheless.

After a little while he gives up. Nothing else with enough force signature to be large or smart was nearby at the moment, but surely something with potential would happen by at some point?

What he does not sense, because it is impossible and so he is not paying attention, is the panicking flare of his padawan’s force bond. Thirteen some odd sectors away, his tiny call for help had been heard by a fifteen year old. One who had been worrying and wondering where his beloved master was.

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

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madame-wilsonn · 2 years

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Where the home is

MASTERLIST

Request: I'd like to request a fluffy fic with Arthur where he gets to live in the country with his love (very cottage core), raise his children (awkwardly but adorably), and run a garage. I'd love to know how his life would have turned out if the vendetta hadn't happened so I supposed this is a "fix it" fic? I know you're really good at those! I don't have a dialogue prompt for you, but perhaps an "ambitious man" comes to the garage and Arthur's wife worries he'll want to go back to his gangster lifestyle, but he assures her he's happy? (You don't have to take that direction tho.) - @zablife

Summary: after a certain visit, you fear Arthur might not be happy with your life anymore.

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, lee!! I was really hesitant at the beginning with this story but I still hope I did justice to the request! Nonetheless, I had a lot of fun writing for Arthur and imagining a s4-free life! Clearly, this man doesn’t get enough love so I did my best to change that! I really hope you like it!!

And special thanks to @thesoldiersminute for making the perfect gifset to fit my story in such a short time (again), you’re a real hero 💗

Warnings: a bit of angst and fluff!!

Word count: 3,074 words

“Arthur, breakfast is ready!” you yelled out the kitchen window, setting up a plate of scrambled eggs on the table.

Your husband joined you a few seconds later, wrapping his free arm around your waist. He kissed your cheek tenderly, handing you Billy.

“Hello, little guy,” you cooed, tickling his neck.

You pulled out the high chair, making sure he was safely seated before taking place next to Arthur.

“So, what are your plans today?”

“Hmm…gotta go to the garage,” he explained, eating a mouthful of toast. “I’ll come back for lunch, we can go pick those apples for your pie, yeah?”

A soft smile graced your lips, your hand reaching to squeeze his.

He got up, quickly sipping the last of his tea. One kiss on your forehead, one kiss on Billy’s and he left. You watched him get into the car through the window, chuckling when he waved at you, a huge grin on his face.

This was your new routine, your new life. Far from the dust and soot of Birmingham.

Arthur’s last deal got him enough money to buy this cottage, with enough land to grow chickens and have a garden. It all seemed like a dream. Watching your husband play with your son, prepare dinner with him next to you.

You never thought Arthur would finally accept giving up the Shelby business. It became the only option for him once he learned you were pregnant. He didn’t want to raise kids in the middle of gang fights, drugs, and gun powder.

His little family was his last shot to a happy, brighter future and he didn’t want to ruin it. That’s what he would tell you.

However, you couldn’t help but wonder if he missed his old life sometimes. Of course, you knew he was happy with you and the countryside allowed him to fulfill long-forgotten dreams. But was this really enough?

You sighed, grabbing a screaming Billy in your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going to see Dada. Come on, you can stop crying, now.”

At the mention of his father, your two years old began calming down, repeating “Dada?” until you explained yourself again.

Ever since Arthur left this morning, Billy did not stop asking for him. And what was once a sweet little boy, turned into a screaming, kicking monster. Nothing could silence him. No matter how many toys you brought to his attention, no matter how many cookies you tried to bribe him with. All he wanted was his father.

Which is why you found yourself entering the garage a few minutes later. Oliver— one of Arthur’s mechanics— warned you your husband was in a meeting with some man. You waited outside the office, trying to distract Billy.

Finally, the door opened. A man came out first, dressed elegantly with a hat in his hand. You had never seen him before, not even in the village. But considering the three-piece suit he wore, you could only guess he came from the city.

A smile stretched your lips as Arthur came out, a confused look on his face. The stranger looked at you, then to your husband, expectedly.

“Mr. Lavin, this is my wife, Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Shelby,” he shook your hand as you replied then grabbed a small card from his pocket, “Alright, here is my card. You can call me when you’ve made a decision. Have a nice day.”

You frowned, staring at Mr. Lavin exiting the building and turning back to Arthur.

“Who was he?”

“Oh, he sells cars. Wants to join our businesses together,” he explained, taking Billy from you. “Did you miss daddy, hm?”

Your toddler giggled, resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…he’d keep selling the cars and I would deal with fixing them when it’s needed. And his company is much bigger which would increase benefits, I’d make more money.”

You hummed, realizing this man just proposed to give Arthur his old life back. The small voice of insecurity grew louder and louder at the sight of your husband, thrilled with the idea of expanding his business.

“Love? Is everything okay?”

You focused your attention back on Arthur who had Billy sitting on his knees. A sight you’d never get tired of. Although your husband could be quite clumsy and rough on the edges, you discovered a whole new side of him when he met his son. You had never seen your Arthur so happy. And you were absolutely sure that this lifestyle was the best for him and for Billy. But you were terrified that he may prefer his previous life and accept the businessman’s proposal.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” you cleared your throat, pushing your worries further down in your heart. “We just came here because Billy couldn’t stop crying but we should head back now.”

“You know what? I’m going home with you,” Arthur got up from his chair, still carrying his son in his arms. “It’s calm today, I can let Oliver handle it so that little rascal doesn’t drive you mad,” he added that last part while tickling Billy.

With one hand against your back, Arthur guided you outside where the car was parked. The way back home passed in a flash. Staring out of the window, you were only half-listening to your husband. All you could think about was the businessman in his classy suit. Arthur dressed the same way when you met him. His hair used to be shorter. He was close to his family and worked with them at the company.

And then you married him.

You weren’t a controlling wife but you saw how your brother-in-law, Thomas, manipulated Arthur into doing dangerous jobs. No matter how hard you tried to help your husband to give up his drug consumption, his brother would always come back with a man to threaten, beat up or kill.

Of course, he promised it was the last step to become a fully legal company. You believed him in the beginning until Arthur’s state got worse. Your pregnancy was the last thing to convince him to move away.

You lived a happy life, raising your child in the middle of green fields and chickens. Your husband had almost no contact with his brother except for the big family reunions.

You contented yourself with what you had. Granted, it was a less glamorous lifestyle but you never missed any of it. You tried to convince yourself Arthur felt the same way when you had some doubts. It used to work, only by seeing how much better he had gotten.

But this morning’s meeting made you question everything.

“Y/N? Hey!” blinking a few times, you looked at Arthur who opened the door for you. “We’re home.”

You thanked him with a tight smile, your mind still clouded with your doubts and insecurities. You were aware you could share your feelings, and maybe talk about different solutions to make everyone happy. But you knew that as soon as you admitted how you felt, there was no taking it back and you didn’t want Arthur’s decision to depend on what you wanted. Especially if it meant that he could be happy.

Strolling through the garden, you stopped in front of each tree to collect the apples. Arthur had Billy sitting around his shoulder, gleefully trying to catch the red and green fruits.

“Oh, this one is beautiful. Good job, Billy,” your husband exclaimed when he saw his son’s find.

You adored apple picking, it was always a lovely moment. But you couldn’t enjoy yourself as much today. Your incessant ruminations were eating your general cheerfulness away, making you quieter than usual.

Arthur had picked up on your strange behavior ever since you visited him at the garage this morning but he thought you were just tired. Your growing silence only turned his slight concern into worry.

Noticing your absentminded state, he gently put Billy on the ground, letting him meander off in the field. Arthur brought you closer to him, passing an arm around your shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, tiptoeing to grab one of the apples that caught your eye but you were too short. Before you could do anything else, you found the fruit in your hand, your fingers grazing Arthur’s calloused ones.

“Thank you,” you tried to smile as naturally as your troubled state allowed you to. Glancing at your basket, you added. “I think we have enough apples for now.”

You began walking back to your house, Arthur right behind you. As you entered your kitchen, your husband announced he would be taking Billy to the nursery for his nap. You began working on your dough, the house quiet and peaceful.

However, the silence only made the buzzing in your mind stronger and louder. Your thoughts wandering and spiraling until you felt dizzy.

You kept mixing the batter mechanically, your arms sore. But the pain was incomparable to the despair you found yourself in. There was no way to win. Either you forced your husband to give up something he loved. Or you let him even though it would wreck the balance you had installed.

“Y/N?”

You jumped as Arthur’s voice startled you. A shaky breath escaped your lips, turning your head to look at him.

“Billy’s asleep. Can I help you?” he stood in the kitchen’s door frame, his gentle eyes gauging your expression.

“You can cut the apples if you want,” your tone came out harsher than you expected. Arthur frowned at your cold voice, hesitantly walking into the room.

As he peeled the fruits, he tried to replay in his mind the last few hours of the day. You were obviously upset, more likely about something he did. But the poor man had no idea. It was neither your birthday nor your anniversary. He fixed the lightbulbs in the hallway like you asked. He even brought you fresh flowers yesterday when he noticed the old ones started to wilt.

And you seemed perfectly fine this morning.

So he began thinking about the events that must have happened between the time he left for work and now. You did seem pretty upset when you arrived at the garage but he hadn’t seen you for hours.

Arthur dropped his knife as he realized he may have found the issue. Maybe you were upset that he left you alone with Billy to work instead of helping you at home. But you usually didn’t mind…

Regardless, it seemed to have bothered you today and as your husband, he couldn’t be the reason behind your low spirits.

He took the time to cut the apples the way you showed him, making sure they were “thin but not too much”. He took his time, trying to be as diligent as his rough hands allowed him to. The last thing he wanted was to make you even angrier with chunky apple bits or paper-thin ones.

Sheepishly, he walked to the sink, setting the bowl next to you. He observed you for a moment, noticing the deep frown on your forehead. It was now or never.

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to gain some courage before hugging your waist from behind.

“I-I’m sorry for this morning,” he whispered, resting his cheek against yours.

As soon as the words hit your ears, your movements stopped. You clenched your jaw as you inhaled deeply, wondering what gave you away.

“I promise to stay home more often to help you with the baby. I’ll hire more men at the garage so you don’t have to be alone when he gets fussy like this morning.”

You frowned, confused. You tried to understand his speech but no matter how you analyzed it, it didn’t make any sense.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” you turned around, dusting your hands on your apron. He didn’t reply right away, staring at you strangely.

“I-I thought you were mad because I went to work this morning. Billy was giving you a hard time and I wasn’t here to help so I thought…you’re not angry about that?”

You sighed, exasperated. It wasn’t his fault and you shouldn’t have been angry at him. But how he completely missed the reason you were so upset just…ticked you off.

You went back to your pie, trying to distract yourself to not cause a fight but Arthur couldn’t give up.

“But…why are you mad? Did I do something to-”

“You didn’t do anything, Arthur. It’s fine.”

You heard him scoff, letting go of your waist.

“Then why have you been like this the whole day?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stayed quiet. You reminded yourself that Billy was asleep and how hard it would be to calm him down if he woke up. You focused all your attention on the dough before you, trying to ignore your husband. Trying to ignore the growing red monster in your chest.

But Arthur called your name, a hand on your shoulder and you snapped: “because I feel you’re not happy anymore and I’m fucking terrified! There!”

His hand left your shoulder and you took advantage of that second of disbelief to escape, throwing your apron on the table.

You walked to your favorite tree in the garden— the one with the swing attached to it. It was a small gift from Arthur. He built it when you moved in after you mentioned having a similar one in your childhood home.

You let out a shaky sigh, feeling the whole world crumble around you. You couldn’t help but feel a pinch of guilt in your chest, realizing you had convinced yourself you lived a perfect life when it wasn’t the case. You prided yourself in your family, having built a happy and safe household.

But maybe all you did was manipulate Arthur into accepting what you considered a “better” lifestyle.

Tightening your hold on the edge of the swing, you allowed yourself a minute, crying your frustrations away. You breathed in the fresh, summer breeze, slowly calming yourself down.

You were aware your reaction had been disproportionate and you needed to apologize to Arthur for your behavior. You just wished you could stay here forever, shut yourself away in joyful memories. If you focused enough, you could almost feel the wind caressing your cheeks and hear Billy’s precious giggles as Arthur pushed the swing.

But running away from your problems never really made them go away.

Opening the door as quietly as you could, you found Arthur on one of the sofas. Billy must have just woken up as he lay in his father’s arm, nodding on and off against his chest. You played with your fingers anxiously, entering the living room.

Your husband’s gaze on you almost made your cheeks heat up. He had every right to get mad at you for your outburst, to tell you how ridiculous it was and make you feel even smaller than you already did.

Instead, he extended his hand to you, allowing you to sit on his lap. You nuzzled your face against his neck, bringing an arm around Billy as well.

“What’s going on, hm?” Arthur finally asked, tenderly brushing the hair out of your face.

“Do you miss your old life?”

Your question made him frown. He had no idea where this was coming from. You knew everything about his past. You had stood up against his demons, dragging him out of the hell he was a prisoner of. Without you, he would probably not even be here anymore. So why would you ask him that?

“No, love. Why would I?” he replied, his confusion clear in his tone.

“I’m scared you do…sometimes,” you whispered so quietly a part of you hoped he wouldn’t hear.

“What?”

“I’m not angry at you for that. I understand…I think. I’ll always do what’s necessary to make you happy but I’m not sure it’s the best decision and-”

“What are you talking about?” he interrupted, just as confused as before.

“I’m talking about the job, Arthur!” you exclaimed, getting up. “That businessman who came this morning! He’s just offered you your old life back!”

Your husband blinked, everything finally clicking in his mind. Sighing, he put Billy on the sofa and joined you in the middle of the room.

“I never planned on accepting it,” he admitted, taking your hands in his.

You shook your head. “You’re just saying this because I don’t like that idea.”

“I’m not,” Arthur leaned in, kissing your forehead. “Expanding my business means I’d have to work in the city, I’ll be less home. I don’t want that. I don’t want to go back.”

You found yourself melting in his touch, your worry slowly withering.

“I want to be around. I want to see Billy grow and have more children. And the future I imagine is here, in the countryside with my family. Because that’s where my home is,” he explained, bringing tears to your eyes. “I am the happiest man on this whole planet. Never thought it was even possible to feel that way. But you give me that and that’s all I want.” You felt another kiss against the crown of your head. “Also, working for those big companies means cutting my hair and I like it long.”

You giggled at his comment, hugging him closer. Arthur chuckled, his heart welling up as your laugh resonated through the house.

Feeling a small tug on his pants, he looked down to see Billy, extending his chubby arms towards you. “Dada. Hug,” he kept repeating.

“Oh, you wanna join, little man?” Arthur bent down.

You embraced your boys as tight as you could, contentment filling the void you had felt. Arthur’s earnest words eased your insecurities, shutting down the ugly voices in your head.

“I want this as well,” you whispered after a beat of silence. Your husband gazed at you, dropping Billy on the ground. “Everything you said, I want it too.”

A radiant smile appeared on his face, his eyes gleaming under the afternoon sun. Caressing your cheeks, Arthur brought your lips to his. Your fingers got lost in his hair as you felt your knees grow weaker.

“What do you say we leave Billy with John and Esme for a few days and have the weekend for ourselves?” he muttered, eyes growing darker.

“Sounds like a brilliant idea.”

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur my bestie #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #ma copine lee #lee tag ♡#friends #anna's grand ball #500 followers celebration #anna’s fics

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thoselethalarts · 4 months

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𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝕿𝖔𝖒𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖉 - 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

(R) School Uniform: “It Doesn’t Matter in the Long Run.”

(NRC: Homeroom Class 3-C)

Marcus: Snzz... snzzz...

Trein: ...Tomford. Tomford!

Marcus: Snzzz.... zzz.......

(Lucius leaps out from Trein's arms and bounds across the room, perching up on Marcus's desk.)

Lucius: Mrooaaarrrr.

(Lucius smacks his paw against Marcus's face)

Marcus: Snrk-! Wh-wha?

Trein: That's twice now you've fallen asleep in my class today, Tomford. I'll have a word with you after class about this. Now sit up and pay attention.

Marcus: O-Oh... Right. Sorry, sir. (yaaawn)

(Later...)

Trein: Marcus, this behavior of yours is completely unacceptable in an academic setting. Nearly every day I look over and see you asleep at your desk, and this has been a problem for the last three years. Trein: Your schoolwork is commendable, but it's clear in your writing that you're still struggling to grasp numerous core concepts, and it's no doubt in part due to your constant sleeping through my lectures. Trein: I do not want to report you for academic probation, but if this continues I will have no choice. Am I making myself clear?

Marcus: Yes- yes sir. You're being perfectly clear. Marcus: (Sigh) Look, I… I know it probably doesn't mean much to hear, but I really don't mean to keep falling asleep in your classes, I swear. Marcus: I have... problems. Specifically with nightmares.

Trein: Nightmares?

Marcus: Yeah. It sounds stupid, but that's all it is. Marcus: I've always had problems falling asleep at night but staying asleep is hard too because of the nightmares. I’ve been dealing with since I was really young. Marcus: I don't really get a lot of good sleep most days and it makes me so tired that I'll just... doze off wherever. I don't really have control over it.

Trein: Hm. You and one of my second years have similar sleeping problems, it seems. Trein: Though his case is a bit more obtuse... at least you have a known reason for your exhaustion. Trein: In any case, I still cannot simply allow you to use my class as a rest period. That is simply out of the question. Trein: Have you spoken to the nurse’s office about these complications? Perhaps they could arrange for you to get accommodations.

Marcus: Er- Well no, but I don't know that they'll-

Trein: Let me rephrase. Speaking to them is your only real option, Marcus. Trein: Your options here are either you take initiative to fix your sleeping conditions, request the accommodations needed for additional study time, or I'll have to file for your academic probation. Trein: As an instructor I can only do so much on my end. It’s up to you to get the help you need. I cannot be your guardian. Understood?

Marcus: ...Yes sir.

Trein: Good. You're dismissed. Trein: Should you take the time to visit the nurse I'll be looking forward to receiving your paperwork.

Marcus: Yes sir.

(Marcus leaves Trein's classroom and enters the main hall)

Marcus: ...Whatever. Outcome's gonna be the same no matter what I do cuz the cause is unavoidable.

(Footsteps approach Marcus from down the hall)

Matt: There ya are, Mark! Figured maybe you'd ran off t' the bathroom 'fore I got here. Matt: Where you been? I was wonderin’ what was keepin’ ya for so long.

Marcus: Yeah, Trein kept me after to chew me out for falling asleep in class. Again.

Matt: Again? Man, you'd think he'da given up on that by now. Matt: Sucks! Guess that means you're gonna have'ta start gettin' better ‘bout that, buddy.

Marcus: …...

Matt: …... (smiles)

Marcus: You're a jackass, you know that right?

Matt: Hmm?

Marcus: “You gotta get better ‘bout that, buddy~” Says the one that’s the cause of me having sleeping problems in the first place.

Matt: Whaaaat~? I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about~

Marcus: Uh huh. Suuuure you don’t. Marcus: Sigh... look, maybe we can tone it down a few notches at night from here on out? At least until we’re outta here and back home again? Marcus: I really don’t wanna get in trouble for something as stupid as falling asleep in class again. Like, I know it doesn’t matter in the long run but I’d at least like to try to be a good student while I’m here.

Matt: I dunno~ I guess I’ll consider it~

Marcus: I’d really appreciate it. Marcus: Ugh… what a miserable start to my day.

/ End

#ツイステッドワンダーランド #Twisted Wonderland #TWST #twst oc #oc #original character #soul writes #personal story #Marcus Tomford

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warriorstale001 · 1 year

Text

Day 1 of OneSmallDreamcember prompt list by @calcium-cat. December 3rd.

Prompt 1: Dejavu.

I realise this is a little late but originally I had no intention of writing anything for this particular prompt, but then late yesterday evening I suddenly got a huge amount of inspiration to write... Well the following idea :3.

Hope you all enjoy =D!

~~~

Dream giggles as he races away from the room where his brother is currently counting aloud, searching the hallway and adjacent rooms for a perfect place to hide.

He’d been waiting allllll day for Nighty to play hide-and-seek with him as his brother was ‘too busy’ before this, but thankfully now Nightmare has finally made time for him.

Dream runs into the nearby living room, diving behind Nightmare’s favorite armchair to hide there. He covers his mouth to stifle his giggles as he hears Nightmare finish counting in the distance.

“…49…50! Ready or not, here I come Dream!”

Dream listens carefully as his brother searches the nearby hallway for his presence, struggling not to laugh as Nightmare continually enters the wrong rooms to look for him.

“Hmm… he’s clearly not in here either.” Dream hears Nightmare exclaim rather loudly as he exits yet another room without finding him inside. “Just where has my brother gone this time…?”

Dream grins widely at his words, proud of himself for coming up with this particular hiding place. He really chose a good spot this time!

Finally after what feels like a few minutes of waiting, Dream hears Nightmare’s footsteps approach the living room. The young skeleton holds his breath as his brother comes to a stop at the doorway, forcing himself not to move even an inch in case that somehow gives him away. It’s so hard for him not to laugh right now!

“You can’t hide from me forever Dream!”

Dream struggles to catch his breath, leaning heavily against the tree that he hopes is hiding him from view right now. N________’s mocking voice sounds much closer than it did before, but Dream is reluctant to move again just yet.

He holds his injured arm close yet gently to his chest, attempting to keep it as still as possible while magic leaks out from his newly received wound onto the snowy, forest floor below him. He’d been careless during his fight with N________ and now the humerus in his right arm is paying the price for it.

Worst of all, he’d gotten separated from B___ and I__ amidst the commotion, so he doesn’t have any backup now when he needs it the most.

He knows he can’t portal out of this AU in his current state and he doubts he’ll be able to fight very well if N________ finds him.

That’s why he’s trying to stay hidden from him until either B___or I__ can locate him and get him safely out of the AU.

And if N________ tracks him down first, well…

Dream doesn’t want to think about what he might do to him in his current state…

“I know you’re there, Dream.” N________’s voice taunts from somewhere behind him, much closer then it was before. “You were so eager to fight me just moments ago, so why stop and run away after one little injury? Come out… so we can finish what you started.”

Dream begins to sweat, his eye lights desperately scanning the trees in search of a better hiding place then the one he’s currently got. He knows moving away from the tree he’s leaned up against right now is probably a foolish idea, but it might be his only option if N_______ gets any closer.

“Dream! … Dream, are you there?!”

Dream perks up his skull hopefully at the sound of B___ calling him in the distance. He is close by the sound of it, perhaps if he runs forward now he’ll be able to reach him before N________ can catch him?

He’ll have to be very quick though.

Dream takes just a single step forward before a noise sounding from behind the tree he was just standing near makes him freeze in his tracks with fear.

SNAP!

He knows it’s a terrible idea and definitely the stupidest decision he can make in this situation, but Dream’s curiosity gets the better of him as he ever so slowly looks back and peers around the tree in order to locate the source of the noise.

A part of him is surprised when he doesn’t find N________ there, but the large broken stick on the ground is most definitely evidence that he was standing there just moments ago.

But if N________ isn’t there any longer, then where-

“Hello Dream~”

Dream has barely turned his skull in the direction of N________’s voice before suddenly a tentacle wraps around his waist and throws his body against the tree he’d been hiding behind all this time.

“Found you, brother~”

“Found you, brother!”

Dream struggles, trying to ignite his magic or slip out of N________’s grip, but the other skeleton just tightens his hold on him. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the other squeezes him so tightly he feels as though more of his bones might break.

“Dream!”

“Dream?”

Looking around N________’s malicious gaze, Dream sees B___ has finally found him and is running towards him in the distance.

He tries to yell out to him in a frantic call for help, but finds his voice just won’t work as he watches fearfully as N________ raises another tentacle in preparation to strike him.

“Dream!”

“Dream!? What’s wrong!?”

Dream closes his eye sockets and braces for the strike, as B___ continues to urgently call his name, though he sounds much closer than before.

“DREAM!!!”

“Did you really think you could hide from me, Dream?” N________ mocks him, his face just inches from his own in this moment. ”No more running, this fight ends right here, r̵̦͊i̵̥͕̾g̸̡͒h̸͓̿t̸̠̾̉ ̸̪͒n̴͍͆o̵̧̙̎w̴̪̠͌͗!”

“Dream! Hold on, I̸͕̹͐̈́͘'̶̤͈͝m̶̝̺̖̒͠ ̶̰̗͗͌̕c̵̥͉͑ö̵̢́́m̶̨̠̩̃ȉ̴̝͑͛n̶̞̭̓̄̕g̶̳̬̓ ̸͈͋!”

“DREAM!!!”

Dream gasps loudly, scrambling away from the hand that just ever so gently touched his shoulder as he becomes aware of his surroundings once again.

He looks back fearfully to see Nightmare staring at him in obvious concern at his reaction to the contact, his hand still hovering where he tried to touch Dream a moment ago.

“Dream… what’s wrong?” Nightmare asks in a clearly worried tone, studying his young brother carefully as he speaks. “I’ve been trying to get a response from you for the past minute or so since I found you but… you weren’t responding… It… looked as though you were in a daze of some sort… Is everything alright? Did something startle you?” He pauses for a minute, looking thoughtful before adding. “Did… did something I said just now startle you Dream?”

Dream gazes at his brother in a mix of slight terror and confusion. He… he has absolutely no idea what just happened to him!

The last thing he remembers is hearing Nightmare calling out to him in their game of hide and seek and then suddenly… well something happened to make him feel really scared and it’s like he wasn’t even in the room anymore until Nightmare snapped him out of it.

Even now he’s a little shaky after that experience and it’s frustrating because he has no idea why!

And worst of all his skull hurts! It hurts so so much that it’s making him want to cry.

Dream slowly stands up, making his way over to where Nightmare is currently hunched over before he wraps his arms around his neck vertebrae in a gentle embrace, sniffling softly as he does so.

“N-Nighty... I d-don’t feel so good...” Dream admits sadly with a trembling voice as he hugs his brother. “...my skull h-hurts really badly... b-but I don’t know w-why ‘cause it was fine a minute ago... I... I’m sorry Nighty but I... I don’t y-think I wanna play hide-and-seek anymore.”

“Oh Dream... it’s alright, don’t worry about the game.” Nightmare attempts to reassure him as he hugs his brother back in a comforting manner. “It must be one pretty bad skull ache if it’s stopping you from playing though. ... Do you want to go to bed and rest for a while?”

Dream thinks about the option for just a moment before reluctantly nodding. “...Ok.”

Nightmare gives him a sympathetic smile. “Alright then. Let’s get you to bed.”

Dream grips tightly to Nightmare as he carries him back to his room, trying his hardest to remember what he was thinking about before his brother brought him back to reality.

This only seems to make his skull ache even worse however, so with a whine of resignation and defeat, Dream soon chooses to give up on remembering it as he closes his eye sockets and leans against Nightmare’s shoulder to rest his throbbing skull.

With his brother here to comfort him and snap him out of any other strange states he might find himself in, Dream lets out a huge yawn and decides it’s probably not worth thinking about too much anyway as he snuggles into his brother’s hold.

Maybe it’s a good thing his skull won’t let him remember what he was thinking about in that moment?

Perhaps… he wouldn’t even want to remember what it was about anyway…

~~~

So how was it?

Just couldn't help myself when this angsty idea came to me. It was a lot of fun to write :3.

Hopefully it's just the start of many more OSD related and inspired works from me to come hehehe~ =

Thanks for the inspo as always, bestie! Super excited for OnesmallDreamcember and everything that will come out of it. I'm sure it'll all be amazing ^^! So glad to see this community is showing so much support for your amazing work already Cal :3!

Have a wonderful day everyone!

#onesmalldreamcember #osdecember22 #OSD #one small dream #Dejavu prompt #my writing #fanfic #OSD inspired mini fic #dream sans #nightmare sans #for calcium cat <3 #have a wonderful day

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