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arctrooper69 · 3 months

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As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

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You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

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yandere-sins · 7 months

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Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you.

__________________

Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either...

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥

#yandere bg3 #yandere!bg3 #death shepherd #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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sister-lucifer · 4 months

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Spring & a Storm

Tim Wright/Masky x Gender Neutral Reader

READ PART TWO HERE

Genre: Fluff, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and you and Tim are stuck inside the cabin together. You can’t sleep because of the thunder, and decide to see if Tim can help you out.

Content/Warnings: None really. Brief mentions of alcohol, uh…if you can think of anything else let me know! This is pretty damn soft, but actually not explicitly romantic.

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

You don’t really notice the sound of the rain against the windows anymore. It’s been raining nonstop since, what, 7 AM this morning? Its not quite storming, at least not yet, but everything is soaked, and you can hardly even walk out onto the patio without your shoes filling with water. It’s dreary, sure, but not exactly unpleasant. It’s a good day to stay in, that’s all.

You shift your sitting position a bit, wrapping one of the woven blankets from the back of the couch around your shoulders as you gaze out the window. You’re not really expecting to see anything, it’s just trees and trees for miles around, but you always seem to find yourself gazing out into the endless pines. You only turn away when you hear Tim sit down in the recliner, sighing lazily as he puts his feet up. This is a sight you’ve seen many times: A few strands of hair falling between his eyes, an old flannel half unbuttoned over a stained white tank, a beer can in one hand and a nearly finished cigarette in the other. It’s practically Tim’s natural state.

He takes one last drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ash tray he keeps on the end table, chasing the smoke with a sip of his beer before that, too, is set aside. He glances out the window, whistling softly.

“Ain’t nobody goin’ out in that weather,” He drawls, “Nobody with half a mind, anyhow.”

You nod in agreement, taking a little sip of your hot cocoa. It’s a wonderful way to keep warm in this homely old cabin.

You glance over at Tim, who is now absentmindedly flipping through TV channels. He’s probably looking for sports or Storage Wars or something, you think. Some old man show you’ll never find interest in.

As you look at him a bit longer, just spacing out a bit with your eyes on his face, your mind meanders back to before you two were this comfortable with each other. It feels weird to think about that now, though. You couldn’t imagine being in that place again.

Tim’s told you before that you reminded him of himself when he was a younger, when he was ‘new and green’ as he’d say. You were a wide eyed, scared kid, just like he was. You deserved to be living in a dorm somewhere, getting shitfaced at college parties and making choices you’ll regret the next morning but laugh at for years, not to be forced to cope with this reality. No one deserves it, really, to wake up in an unfamiliar place surrounded only by endless woods, no one and nothing around to help you and your body aching all over with injuries you don’t recall getting.

He knows that feeling.

He’s never felt worse. Neither have you. It’s hard to get worse than that, really.

You were still a bit dazed when he first helped you back to his cabin, but something about the worn walls and cozy, lived-in feeling of the old rugs and antique furniture told you you were safe, at least for now. You were out the second your head hit the pillow. You slept for nearly two days straight. You really needed it.

Since then you’ve been a permanent fixture in Tim’s life. You don’t really leave the cabin, and you’ve never left alone. Tim says it’s just until you can find a job and a place of your own, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to kick you out. You’re thankful for that, of course, but you can’t help but smile every time he insists that this is only a temporary situation, that if you don’t get off your ass he’ll quite literally throw you to the wolves, but he always smiles too. You’re definitely on the same page, and the headline says you’re not going anywhere.

The rainy day melts into a rainy afternoon, then an evening, then a quiet night. The rain has slowed down a bit, but now the thunder has rolled in, and every ten or fifteen seconds or so you can hear it clapping loudly overhead. The sound is a bit more…penetrating than usual, a bit more raucous, and far more bothersome. You’re not sure why. The only thing you are sure of is that your once comforting outdoor ambience is really ticking you off.

You sit up with a yawn, glancing at the clock and groaning with annoyance when you see it’s already passed 2:00 AM. Damn, you’ve been lying here a while, and still no luck getting to sleep.

The thunder crashes outside once more, making you roll your eyes. It’s mocking you, you think, poking and prodding in an attempt to get a reaction. You simply sit there for a few moments, debating turning your TV on or reading a book to tire yourself a bit more, but neither of those are particularly attractive options at the moment. You bring your knees up and rest your head on them, half lidded eyes lazily wandering around your dark room. It looks the same as usual, no surprise there, but when you look down the hallway you notice that Tim’s door is cracked open.

Hm. Odd. He never leaves it open. Must’ve stumbled off to bed and failed to realize he didn’t close it all the way.

It’s not a big deal at all, really, but the light of his TV leaking out through the cracked door paired with the noise of the thunder gives you an idea.

You slowly slip out of bed, cringing a bit when your feet hit the cold wood. You’re as quiet as you can be, avoiding all the floorboards you know will squeak. There’s really no point, Tim sleeps like a rock most nights, especially if he’s been drinking, but you figure you’re better off safe than sorry.

You make your way to his door, pushing it open just a bit to peek inside. You wince when the door creaks unbearably loudly, but Tim doesn’t move a muscle. He’s sprawled out like a starfish on his bed, limbs in all directions and his single blanket only half covering his body. He looks foolish, but in a charming sort of way. He’s even snoring a bit.

You cautiously make your way to his bedside, watching him for any sign of consciousness. You don’t want to startle him. Even if he didn’t mean to, he could really hurt you if he thought you were a threat, though at the moment he’s not very intimidating. His sweatpants are ratty, there’s no hiding his dad bod in that old sports tee, and his face is illuminated by the cheesy sitcom he left on; not exactly the pinnacle of danger.

You step up to his bed, debating what to do. You should wake him gently, it reduces the risk of injury, but how do you gently wake someone who could sleep through an aerial assault?

“…Pssst, Tim?” You whisper, but get no response. You repeat yourself, a bit louder this time.

“Tim, wake up.”

He stirs a bit, but all you get is a groan and a minute twitch of his eye. Dammit.

You sigh and roll your eyes with annoyance, reaching out to softly shake his shoulder.

“Tim, it’s me. Wake up.”

He lazily swats your hand away, groaning again and mumbling a reply without even opening his eyes.

“Whaddya want, kid…?” He asks, practically chewing his words.

“I can’t sleep,” You respond simply, giving a little shrug. Tim is not amused at this answer.

“And why does this have to involve me?” He huffs, glancing at you for a moment before his eyes close again. He turns onto his side towards you, yawning as he tries to pull his blanket back up.

You don’t really have an answer to that one. Why did you feel the need to come in here and wake Tim up? It’s not like he controls the thunder. It’s not like he controls your inability to sleep…

…But maybe he can help.

“I can’t sleep,” You explain, trying to figure out how to word your request without sounding stupid, “The thunder is too loud. I thought maybe I could…you know…”

Tim’s eyes finally open, for real. He raises a brow at you, and for a moment you fear you’ve overstepped, but his expression shifts to tired once more as he turns onto his back again.

“Kid,” He mutters, clearly annoyed but trying to be gentle, “If you’re old enough to share a beer with me, you are definitely too damn old to be running into my bed ‘cause you’re scared of a li’l thunder.”

“I’m not scared,” You quickly protest, “It’s just too loud for me to sleep. I didn’t know what else to do, I just thought…”

You trail off. You’re not really sure what you thought.

“…Never mind.”

You turn to walk away, hoping he’ll be too tired to remember this in the morning. You’re in the doorway when his gruff voice stops you.

“Wait, wait,” He drawls, sleepily waving you over without moving from where he’s lying, “Get back here, I ain’t chasin’ ya off…”

You pause at that, then slowly walk back to his bed. He’s silent, and for a few moments unmoving, but then he scoots over a bit, patting the bed next to him.

“C’mon.”

You sigh in relief, happy to see Tim responding at least somewhat positively. You climb into bed next to him, though you’re careful not to get too close to him. You and Tim don’t really do physical contact beyond a high five for a job well done.

That’s what makes it all the more surprising when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side but making sure to be gentle, giving you ample opportunity to pull away if you need to. You don’t.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, keeping his eyes closed and his face towards the ceiling, his free hand idly resting over his stomach.

“…You ain’t too scared, are ya?” He drawls. You’re confused for a moment, but then the thunder sounds again and you realize what he means. You hadn’t even noticed the thunder since you walked in. It was nice.

“No, I’m fine, really,” You insist, “I’m not scared, it’s just hard to sleep with the noise. It’s more annoying than anything else.”

He gives a grunt of acknowledgment.

“You get on to sleep, then. Ain’t no reason for you to be tired tomorrow.”

You nod, moving a bit closer to him. He, in turn, wraps him arm a bit tighter around you. It feels…nice. Foreign, yes, but far from unpleasant. He smells like pine trees and faded Old Spice cologne.

You yawn softly, pulling the blanket up over the two of you as you get comfortable. A comfortable silence settles over you both as the sound of the thunder mixed with the blurry noise of the TV. You’re the first to break it, a question falling from your lips before you can really think of stopping it.

“…You were worried I was afraid?”

Tim shrugs, scratching at his stubble as he answers.

“I mean, I guess…I just wanted to make sure, ya know? Make sure you didn’t need me to do nothing to make you feel better…”

That makes you smile.

“Didn’t think you’d care that much…” You murmur with a hint of a giggle.

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim quickly snaps, “Course I care. I care about you. Ain’t no way for me not to. I’ve cared about you since the second I took you in. You’re not that young, I know, but back then you were just a kid to me. You’ve matured since then, yeah, but I’ll never forget the way you looked when I found you wandering the trail that day…”

“Yeah, yeah, and you remember when I was three apples tall, I get it,” You tease with a playful laugh. Tim can’t help but chuckle, giving you a little squeeze.

“Can it, ya little shit. You know what I’m sayin’. I knew what I was doin’ when I let you into my home, I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care.”

He’s got a point there. Most of the time Tim’s number one priority is self preservation. He rarely goes out of his way to do anything that doesn’t directly benefit him. He must’ve seen something in you absolutely worth the trouble. What exactly it is you’ll never know, but you’re certainly happy with where it’s gotten you.

You turn to him a bit, giving him a tired smile. He turns to you as though he can sense your stare, cracking open one eye to return your smile before laying his head back again.

“Alright, alright, ‘nuff yammerin’. Go to sleep,” He orders, reaching over to ruffle your hair before his hand rests back on his stomach. He never was good at being strict.

You stretch a bit before settling into your spot, getting as comfortable as you can so that you won’t have to shift around and risk bothering or waking up Tim later on. He hasn’t moved a muscle, his breathing already slowed and all of his muscles relaxed for once. It’s an odd sight, really. Usually he’s always holding some tension in his brow or jaw or shoulders, but he’s completely relaxed now, as are you. You finally feel like you could fall asleep.

“Night,” You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Tim’s southern drawl ringing in your ears.

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

#gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader #creepypasta #marble hornets #marble hornets tim #marble hornets masky #marble hornets x reader #masky #tim wright #masky x reader #tim wright x reader #creepypasta x reader

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months

Note

Ask and you shall receive :)

2,5,6 + "you like my name? Ok, then moan it." With Polly Gray

Thank you ❤️

Snowed In, Let Me Show you How it’s Done ~Polly Gray xFem Younger(20s)!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Summary— Polly, the Shelby’s, and Reader, Esme’s cousin, are all stuck in the Shelby Birmingham home due to a show storm. Sparks fly between you and Polly. Anon Response— Hi hi anon!! Thanks for the request. I can absolutely write this! Hope you Enjoy ♥️

Previous Day <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Prompt— Snowed In/Blizzard & “You like my name? Ok, then moan it.”

#2. “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts”

#5. “Shut up and kiss me already”

#6. “My eyes are up here”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, age gap (all legal), grinding, eating out, fingering, restraint use, gagging, ball gagging use, teasing, kissing, semi-public teasing, flustering, praise, implied praise kink, implied gagging kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

All the Shelby’s and associates pent up in the Birmingham house was bound for chaos. It was a blizzard. The worst of its kind to ever cross over all of England. And it was hitting Birmingham hard.

The kids were running all around the house, until eventually Arthur shut them up inside the living room, so that the adults could discuss in peace in the betting room.

Aunt Pol sat in her chair in the middle of the big centerpiece table, smoking and chuckling to herself as she watched the hectic dysfunction. Being snowed in was certainly free entertainment for the older woman.

You stood uncomfortably in the corner of the room, unsure of what to do. You were Esme’s cousin, and Esme had invited you over, as she often did. Now you were stuck in the house, with the Shelby’s.

Polly scanned the room and each person her gaze met, before landing on you. She smoked some more and puffed the smoke up in the air, her gaze still on you. Her free hand on the table indicated for you to join her at the table, along with a slight nod of her head.

You timidly came forward, sitting and angling yourself next to the woman with crossed legs. You blushed lightly under the woman’s eyes. The room was anything but silent, but Polly’s silence made all the over sound drown out.

“Your Esme’s cousin, Y/N… right?” She spoke, in a low and inquisitive tone and taking another puff.

“Yes” you said quietly, your head low as you nodded.

“We’ve never officially met…” Aunt Pol hummed, “I’m Polly. Family calls me Aunt Pol.”

Her free hand was now out underneath her table, offering to shake yours. You took a breath, extending your hand and taking hers to shake it. Her grasp was direct and firm, but not overbearing like most of the hands you’d shook. And her hands were silky to the touch, yet still thoroughly worked and rough. The contrast made your head spin.

Hell, her entire demeanor alone just made you dizzy in the head…

Once you let her hand, you immediately missed her touch. But you didn’t have to wait long for more, as Polly’s hand then landed on the knee of your crossed leg. Your breath hitched lightly and you blushed even harder. Polly leaned in closer, and her tone went lower and quieter.

“Tell me about yourself, Darling.”

You gulped and your eyes widened slightly.

How could you refuse this woman..?

“Um…. Well I…” you stammered, your attention and eyes diverted to the woman’s hand slowly creeping up your leg, closer and closer to your inner thigh.

“My eyes are up here…” Polly hums teasingly.

Your eyes shot back up to Polly’s gaze, as they widened even more.

“Sorry Polly…” you whimper, “I… I was married, b-but he died… in the war.”

Polly’s eyes softened, and her hand on your thigh started to rub and caress you caringly.

“Oh Love, I’m sorry… I understand some, my husband died as well.” She cooed softly.

You took a deep breath.

“It’s alright, actually a pretty good thing… he wasn’t… the best…” you quietly admitted.

You tried to convey your certain sense of dislike for your husband, which Polly immediately picked up on.

“Never did the trick, huh…?” She bluntly said, with a teasing edge to her tone.

Your blush tenfolded at her words, and her hand had continued its teasing once more. You shook your head lightly in embarrassment.

“No need to be embarrassed, Love…” Polly immediately cooed, “When’s the last time?”

Her fingers tipped against your closed thighs. You immediately uncrossed your legs, opening them up to the other woman’s access. Polly hummed in satisfaction of your immediate obedience.

“With him. Years ago…” you whispered.

Polly’s eyes widened and her mouth threatened to drop in light shock, instead she took another puff of smoke before smushing the cigarette against the table, effectively putting it out.

Her fingers had crept in your dress and were running light circles over your clothed clit. You sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to roll her eyes back and let out a breathy moan.

“We’ll probably be in this mess for a while… Want help…?” Polly suggestively cooed.

“Ah—I…” you breathily stammered in a groan., “Y-yes please…”

Suddenly her touch was gone, her hand back in her own lap. Polly’s hand on the table reached over and clasped your wrist, tight but not one but painful.

“Upstairs, last room to the right. Left side drawer…” Polly purred in your ear, “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts.”

Your breath hitched and you nodded slowly.

“Yes Polly…” you whimpered.

You left the betting room first to go up the stairs, and entering into Polly’s room. You look around, finding the bed and immediately stripping down to your undergarments. You got on the bed, reaching into the left side drawer and pulling out some ribbon ties.

Polly left to join you a couple minutes later. She walked into her room, closing and locking the door behind her. Her eyes landed on the sight of you, with one hand tied to the metal head of the bed while struggling to tie your other hand to the opposite end of the metal. Polly smirked.

She had you all to herself. And none in the house, adult or child, was the wiser…

Polly came up to the side of the bed that you couldn’t quite tie your hand to, taking the tie from you.

“Let me.” She said, helping you tie it. She took that moment to allow her gaze to sweep up and down your undressed body. She bit her lip in satisfaction.

Polly then backed away to the edge of the bed to fully examine you. You wiggled against your ties, squirming underneath the woman’s gaze.

“Please Polly…” you whimpered. Polly chuckled. Her gaze made it feel like she was about to pounce on you. And oh how you wanted that so badly…

But instead, the older woman stayed standing before the edge of the bed, as she began stripping. She took off every last piece of clothing, slowly and tantalizingly. You bit your lip, yet still unsuccessful as the whimpers and groans still left your lips.

Polly loved all the sounds she was drawing from you. Finally, she was completely out of clothes to disrobe out of. And the woman finally got on the bed, and crawled up to you.

You immediately opened your legs wide for the woman to crawl in between. Polly did so happily. She hovered over you, her gaze going once more up and down your figure, looking like she was ready to eat you up.

“Do you care about your undergarments…?” Polly inquisitively and lustfully cooed, her eyes darkening as she gazed down at the little clothing you still had on.

“Mmmm not really, cost a bit…” you groaned, arching up into the woman, desperate for any touch. You already knew that her touch made you dizzy. The she made your mind go fuzzy. You wanted more. You wanted her to make you silly, to go dumb from her touch.

“Hmmmm, you’ll have to be quiet…” Polly purred, “Can’t have the family catching on…”

“Mhmmmm just shut up and kiss me already Polly please—!” You groaned, tugging against your restraints again.

Polly only chuckled and pulled away, making you lose hope of any and all touch in the near future. She sat herself at the back of the bed, barely in between your feet.

“Tsk tsk tsk, that’s no way to ask for something, Darling… Use your manners.” Polly cooed wickedly.

“I—no I’m sorry…! Sorry please come back Polly— Need you close please” you stuttered out, your face going deep red as the older woman watched you intently.

She quirked an eyebrow at you. Polly then got on all fours and stalked back up to you, hovering above you once more. She had undone her pinned curls when she had stripped, so as she lowered herself to you, her haired angel’s angelically around her face.

Then Polly’s lips were on yours. It was no question that she was in charge, and that she was dominating the kiss. Your heart was racing at the feeling of her again. You moaned lightly into the kiss, happily letting the older woman take the lead. But she pulled away too fast, making you only want more or her even more so.

“You like my name, Darling…? Alright, then moan it.” Polly purred wickedly.

Your eyes widened and you gulped.

Polly then began kissing and sucking marks on your skin, along your neck and shoulders. She hit the sensitive spot on your collar bone, making you squirm against her and the ties.

“Ahhhhh P-polly…!!” You moaned out.

“Hmmmmm, good girl…” the older woman hummed, continuing her markings along your skin.

Without warning, the woman tore your bra right off you with a quick tug and snap. It was thrown aside with ease. You gasped and were pretty sure that the clasp had broken from it. But before you could voice your complaint, Polly’s hot mouth was latched around your left nipple.

“Ahhh..Mmmm—! Pol…!!” You squeaked out in light shock but even greater pleasure.

“I’ll buy you a new one…” Polly cooed, as she switched to your other perked bud.

As she focused her attention and her tongue on your right nipple, one of her hands slipped down your frame and to your knickers. She bit down on your bud, while ripping your knickers with ease. You yelped and arched your back up into Polly in response.

Arching your hips, Polly was able to remove your knickers and throw those to the aside as well.

“I’ll buy you a new set…” Polly purred, moving off your tits with her tongue, and starting her journey further down south, where you so desperately needed the woman.

Finally, her tongue reached your lower patch of curls. Polly hummed in delight as she dipped her tongue into your folds. You arched your back and bucked your hips up to the woman’s face, pulling again against your restraints.

“Yes yes yes Polly please don’t sttopp—!!” You cried out, so happy to have the feeling of a woman’s touch once again.

“Shhhhh, don’t make me gag you, Love…” Polly hummed through your folds.

You bit your lip and whimpered, “Sorry Polly…”

“Hmmmm, it’s alright…” Polly cooed, now latching her lips on your clit and sucking.

Your eyes rolled back and your hips jerked up.

“Ohhhhhh GOD Pol—!!!” You practically screamed.

Polly pulled away slightly with a chuckle, reaching for her drawer. You gasped and gulped, realizing how loud you had just been.

“I—I’m sorry fuck sorry sorry Polly—” you rambled.

Polly chuckled darkly, pulling out a ball gag from the drawer.

“Know what this is…?”

Your eyes widened and you nodded.

“I’m not afraid to put it on you if you can’t be quiet, understand Darling…?” Polly purred in your ear.

You gulped and nodded vigorously.

“I understand Polly…” you whimpered.

“Good girl.” Polly hummed, placing the ball gag right next to your head as a reminder.

She lowered herself back down to your core, immediately dipping her tongue into your sex, making you arch your back once more and whimper out in pleasure.

Polly now began eating you out a ruthless pace. Her tongue sloshed in and out of your cunt, and while one hand held your thighs firmly from crushing her head, her other hand was in between your legs, her thumb working your clit.

Your legs shook and you bit your lip to muffle the cry that tore through you as you came for the first time that snowed in day. Your eyes rolled back and you lost your composure, groaning too loudly for how thin the walls were.

But Polly was swift. While her tongue fucked you through your first orgasm, the finger on your clit quickly got stuffed into your mouth, effectively muffling your cries as you came down from your high. Once Polly was sure your high had teetered out, she removed her fingers from your mouth and brought herself back up to your upper body.

She chuckled and grabbed the ball gag. You whimpered and begged the woman with your eyes. But the way your legs were rubbing together in need of friction and the way your body arched upward to the woman told Polly that you didn’t mind the gag one bit. She positioned the ball gag around your head so that the ball was placed perfectly in your mouth.

Your eyes pled Polly for more.

“Now we can actually begin…” Polly teased you, “And I can make you drool much easier…” she added with a wink.

You groaned, which easily got muffled by the ball gag, so instead you ground your hips up against Polly’s legs.

“Alright alright…” Polly chuckled, positioning her legs entangled with yours so that her cunt could easily grind against yours.

Polly rolled her hips, creating a delicious friction in between your cunts, making your pull harshly against your ties as your eyes rolled back. You immediately and wildly bucked your own hips back.

Polly smirked and kept a strong yet slow tempo of grinding her sex against yours. It was slowly corroding your sense of competency and self. Meanwhile, her hand wandered up your figure and pinched your nipples without warning, sending jolts of hot pleasure coursing through your veins, along with the slowly building pleasure of the grinding.

You yelped, whimpered, and moaned out loudly, but it was all muffled by the gag. And this only seemed to spur Polly on even more. Polly’s grindings began to speed up and to become more sloppy. Before you knew it, you were crashing over the edge once more. And Polly was right behind you.

She collapsed on top of you, your legs still entangled. You loved the feeling of the woman skin on skin with you. It made you terribly needy and your body sparked with pleasure.

Polly was quick to sit back up, this time straddling your stomache. Her breathing was labored and she looked angelic in her post-orgasmic sheen of sweat. Her pupils were big and dark, starring down at you.

She continued to met your gaze, as her hand slithered behind her and in between your legs. Her fingers met your slick and sensitive sex, and you immediately bucked and jerked your hips in response, still sensitive from the last two orgasms.

“Want more, Love…?” Polly breathlessly and lustfully cooed.

You nodded vigorously, your whole body still on edge from your last high. Polly wasted no time in plunging two fingers into your core. Your eyes rolled back as you adjusted to her manicured digits. She began to pump and curl her fingers inside you. Your hips eagerly met her hand with similar rhythmic thrusts.

You closed your eyes from how overstimulating it was all starting to be. Polly slid a third finger inside you.

“Nuh uh… Eyes open. Look at me.” Polly tutted, punctuating her sentences with a pointed curl each time.

Your toes curled in delight with each thrust, and your legs started to shake again. You pulled against your ties, and you moaned desperately as you got dangerously close to your next orgasm. Polly could tell.

“Cum for me, Love.” She cooed.

That was all you needed to topple over the edge and scream your way through your high. All of which was gagged of course. But it didn’t make it any less of entertainment for Polly.

She grinned wickedly, as she swiped touting your folds afterwards, making you nearly start to cry at how raw and sensitive you were. If you could have begged for her to stop, you would have, but at the same time, you wanted to bed for more.

Polly decided for you, getting off of you, and going to undo your ties. She kissed your wrists as she undid them from their ribbon restraints. She took off the gag, then Polly went to grab a washcloth, so that she could clean you up. After she had payed the power attention to you, she lit a cigarette and sat next to you in the bed.

She smoked the cigarette with a long puff, sighing in satisfaction. Your heart was still racing and you were still electrified with pleasure. Polly pulled you into her lap.

“You did really good.” She hummed, then offering you a smoke, which you politely declined.

“Thanks…” you bashfully murmured, your red face returning to you.

“Such a good girl…” Polly cooed, making you go beet red in the face, making the older woman giggle.

~~~

Next Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Polly Gray Masterlist

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 3 months

Text

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm.

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?”

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?”

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over.

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now.

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention.

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.”

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester fan fiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut

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madaboutmunson · 15 days

Text

Perfectly P-awesome

For Stranger Things Writer’s Guild Daily Prompt

‘Daddy’

Summary: Drabble of Steddie at the dog rescue

Word Count: 700

——————————————————————-

“Eddie, this was a mistake,” Steve whispered out the corner of his mouth, as they walked between the enclosures.

“No it wasn’t, my love. You’re just upset we can’t take them all,” Eddie replied in a whispered sing-song tone. He looked smug, and he had every right to, because he knew his boyfriend, and he knew he was correct.

Steve channelled his annoyance into a grumble as he avoided eye contact with the dogs they passed by.

“Imagine what a wonderful thing we’ll be doing, giving one of these sweet things a new home,” Eddie encouraged swooping into his side and linking their arms, “A new leash of life, if you will,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and stifled a laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes but the smile he was wrestling to hide became too obvious. He sighed, “We don’t have the space.”

Eddie made an incorrect buzzer noise, “Wrong! We had three whole humans in that apartment, a dog is smaller than a human.”

“Ok well are you gonna walk them every day?” Steve said, putting one hand on his hip.

Eddie pouted, “But baby, you go for a jog or run every morning, if you took the dog you’d have some sort of protection, when you’re out on your own.”

Steve was about to say no and stopped in his tracks, “Ok, alright,” he said throwing his hands up, “A few conditions. You join me on morning walks and you can walk the dog. The dog cannot be so big it takes up half the sofa. It must be a mixed breed, and no puppies! You got that?”

“Yessss!” Eddie hopped and punched the air making his wallet chain jangle. With a wild look in his eyes he grabbed Steve’s arm and yanked him along behind him at top speed.

“Eddie, what the hell, calm down! Where are you dragging me?” Steve complained as they nearly pushed past several families and couples until Eddie came to a sudden halt and Steve crashed into his side.

Eddie, completely unaffected by a half speed Steve crashing into him, points at the enclosure.

“This is the one, babe,” Eddie’s smile was huge as he rocked on his heels.

Steve sighed and wondered what kind of hell beast Eddie had picked out. He took the plunge and stepped forward to look at the dog.

Steve looked at the creature behind the cage door.

This wasn’t a dog. This was some kind of gremlin muppet from outer space.

Its ears stuck out like the little green funny guy from Star Wars. Its dark fur was patchy in places but generally short and wiry apart from on top of its head where it had an accidental mohawk. Its lower jaw jutted to the side giving it half an underbite and it was about the size of a Beagle. It had an eyepatch over one eye, a missing leg and a tail with an almost right angled kink in it.

“See, Daddy follows all your rules, aaaand,” Eddie pouted his lips and clasped his hands together, “He weally weally needs a home,” he said, with his own biggest puppy dog eyes.

Steve put up a finger, “What did you just call him?”

“Daddy,” Eddie repeated and the creature from the depths of hell replied with a yip. Eddie crouched down to the door at the response, “Who’s a good boy? It’s Daddy isn’t it? Daddy’s a good boy!”

Steve didn’t particularly want this walking nightmare fuel in his home, or to shout Daddy at something in the park, but when Eddie looked up at him with such joy, he rolled his eyes and sighed, and went to look at the information sheet.

Steve realised the huge mistake he’d made by reading this. This dog was a hero, a loyal pet, and was only in here because his owner passed away and no one would take him in. Not only that, but he was an old dog. He knew right then he couldn’t leave him here. He was coming home with them

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to meet Eddie’s compassionate expression, “So is he gonna be a Munson or a Harrington?”

#stwgdailyprompt #eddie munson #eddiemunson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #madaboutmunson #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #madaboutmunson drabble

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graceofagodswrath · 4 months

Note

Omg your Humans are space orcs/deathworlders + Transformers is just *d e l i c i o u s*. My complaints are pretty much the same, it seems that most humans on the franchise are just manufactured to be hated or simply annoying for being so useless. I want transformers to realize just how hard we have to work to simply stay alive *in our own planet*, with the sheer amount of diseases and poisonous animals and predators and weather and so much more, I want them to wonder how such seemingly fragile beings became the dominant species, how can we be so resilient yet so delicate... I'd like a transformer that particularly hates/is disgusted by humans to swap places with us for like a day or so, the first one that comes to mind is Starscream, I want him to get a glimpse at the daily fight for survival here on Earth and can't help but develop a tiny speck of respect for humans, not that he would ever admit it, even to himself, that he's secretly more mindful of where he steps when there are humans around ever since.

I literally just gave a rundown about this to a friend in a drunken rant the other night, so I am so ready for this.

Starscream wouldn’t be my first pick, based solely on the fact that I haven’t psycho-analyzed him the same way I have others, but imma do my best ~

For situation-sake so my writer brain doesn’t kill itself over context, imma do this in the form of Headcannons. Let’s say Starscream gets stuck in a human body and has to exist as such until he magically gets put back. Until then, he’s stuck with a human who is aware of what he is (vague gn oc/reader, up to whoever. Writing from the viewpoint of “one of us”).

(Also y’all can input any Starscream here cause imma write him in his basic form: whiney, stuck-up, clever little cunt).

- Bro is flabbergasted. Disgusted. Horrified. Out-of-his-mind losing it. Keeps praying to primus it’s a drug-induced hallucination or a dream.

- Wakes up on the soft cushions of a… couch? The word pops up in his head. He knew the basics from his overviews when their war traveled to earth. He brought his servos- No. Hands, up to his face, inspected his new honey, fleshy digits. The detail was too vivid to be a hallucination. Colors were both muted and bright. Starscream found himself automatically trying to adjust his optic intake. But nothing happened. Of course. Because fleshy organics can’t manually adjust their own sensory inputs.

- He curls his lips, and is instantly hit with the feeling of muscle contorting. Skin and flesh was an entirely different sensation from mesh and plating. It made his plating- damnit no, skin crawl. Another sensation trailed up the center of his back, spine and shiver popping up in his mind.

- Even the way his psyche worked was different. Like a new plane of existence. Thoughts were unorganized, uncalculated. Like something that squirmed out of his grasp as he tried to keep hold. Everything felt simplified, yet the awareness and sensations were overwhelming. His entire presence felt… hypocritical.

- Sounds distracted him from his insightful, yet horrific reverie. His gaze drifted to another area of the room, half-built walls sectioning it off, but with flat slabs atop. Counters. A face pops from behind the half-wall. Human eyes catch his, and the creature pulls its lips back to bare its teeth. To smile. Even though humans and cybertronians had similar facial anatomy, the little creatures were so ugly that it was hard to recognize similar expressions.

- “You good bud?” The thing asks. Starscream felt his new face twist into his casual sneer, one laced with aggravation and disgust.

- “Good? Is such a thing possible when you’re a skin bag of flesh and bones?” The humans only response was to broaden their grin.

-“Glad you haven’t lost the attitude. Means you’ll make it out alive.” The nonchalance threw the ex-cybertronian for a loop.

- “You… know me?” That grin turned into a smirk that made the non-energon in his lines boil.

- “You’re Starscream, second-in-command to Megatron, lord of the deceptions, yada yada yada… yeah I know who you are.” They leaned back against the wall, eyes boring into the deception. Starscream found himself wondering if human eyes were always so disturbingly piercing.

- “Wonderful.” He shoved the unsettled feeling to the back of his head, determined to figure out a solution and still be in control. “Then you can explain how and why I am in this disgusting organic form.”

- The smirk disappeared into an odd expression Starscream had never seen before. The human flattened their lips and pursed their… cheeks. It looked entirely stupid. But something in the back of his head whispered apologetic.

- “I’m not sure on the exact details, but I can tell you it won’t last long. I’m basically your caretaker until it wears off.”

- Instinctually, Starscream’s brows raised. “That’s it? Is this some new human weapon, cruel imprisonment within one your fleshy bodies?”

- The human tilted their head back and laughed, once again taking Starscream off guard. Their casual presence was so different from the fight-or-die everyday lifestyle that gripped his species.

- “Nope. Just a random accident that you’re the unfortunate victim of.” At the con’s bewildered stare, the human pushed their mouth outwards, changing the pitch of their voice as they said, “aww, poor baby. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” Then they whirled around and walked into the other room.

- Man is flabbergasted. Is out of his element and cannot function. Cue him trying to stand and do normal things, and bust his ass because the different sensations hitting him all at once. Organic nervous systems feel very different from techno ones.

- First thing he starts doing is eating and drinking. It takes a couple hours, but his “babysitter” eventually gets him to try something. Water first, of course (he refused any organic foods). The con is disgusted, but moderately pleased that the tasteless liquid isn’t slimy or thicker like he expected. It’s actually rather soothing to his human body.

- The first food he willingly tries is melon. Honeydew to be precise. Refused to touch meat, as the idea of eating actual organic flesh was unfathomable. He was pleasantly surprised to find the flavor of the fruit likable. Humans don’t taste things the same way cybertronians do. Whereas energon has a more electrical charge to it (to put it in human words), Earth flavors were smoother. Discovers he has a huge sweet tooth (as his “babysitter” put it).

- His human guardian took this opportunity to drag him out of their home and go shopping for more consumables. Let him pick things he found somewhat pleasing, but chose most others. Lots of fruit to try and other non-meats. Went in to try the other types of fruit. Has a preference for honeydew, strawberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, and grapes. Really likes (loves but won’t admit) pineapple and raspberries. The sour/sweetness is similar to energon. Citruses like oranges and mandarin are also similar, but he prefers more sweetness than straight sour. Kiwi is also a treat.

- (I headcannon that energon is similar to sour patch kids and skittles, super sweet and sour with an electric tang and texture. So all transformers would be immediate sweet lovers as humans because of the similarity).

- Hates anything dull or flavorless. Don’t try to feed this man spinach, he’ll call you grass-eating fleshbag.

- Drinks water only because he has too (stupid human body), but once he discovers those liquid flavors he can put in, it’s all he uses. Tried juices when he found out they were liquids derived from the fruit he likes. Got excited when it tasted almost like energon and tried to only consume juice from then on. His guardian explained that humans couldn’t only exist on juice, but of course he tried to argue that all he needed was nutrients in liquid. He then discovered smoothies. Nearly did the same thing until he actually tried them. Hated the thickness and gritty texture.

- A couple days go by and his guardian decides it’s time to get him tf out properly. Man is lounging around all the time. If he’s not on the couch making fun of human entertainment and politics, he’s following his guardian meatbag around and demanding answers for his current predicament.

- So his guardian starts small. Hauls his ass outside for a jog. This is where things really get interesting. Starscream is unaware of how human bodies work. When his guardian begins a slow run, he gets confused. Why would you run when you can walk fine? Where were they going? Leads to an explaination of exercise, which results in the con doing his usual snide shit of “you force yourselves to go through training otherwise your bodies become slow and unusable? How unsurprising.” And they’re like “yes and nooo, it’s so we can stay strong and get stronger as time goes on. Staying strong allows us to do cool things.”

- Cool things like what? Well his guardian gets an evil idea in their head. Starscream hates running. Hates using his legs and having nothing to do with his arms. Don’t even get them started on the tantrum he threw when he started sweating (fluids exiting one’s body? Horrifying).

- So his guardian introduces him to swimming. The con is a jet in his natural form, and the closest he’ll get to that as a human without a shit ton of equipment will be the water.

- Problem is the man has to learn to swim first. And willingly get in the water. Stays on the edge of the lap pool the first few times, watching with his nose turned up at the humans swimming.

- However, he starts to slowly dip his toes in the water. The sensation is… interesting. It’s not dislikable on human skin. In fact, on the hotter days it’s very soothing, like when he drinks water (finds out he can’t drink this kind tho, chemicals and bodies in it and such).

- Eventually he gets in, staying in the shallow area. His guardian helps him learn how to swim. It feels humiliating, learning to kick and tread water, while watching human children do it with relative ease. It feels strange to use his body in such ways. But with his guardian constantly reminding that none of his cybertronian peers knew or will know of his situation, AND their constant praise, he finds it in himself to continue.

- The praise he receives from his guardian is also something he’s not used to. As well as other humans willing to help him learn. It apparently wasn’t uncommon for many adult humans to not know how to swim or do other things, and gave him more confidence to learn. He’d never admit it, but he tried harder to learn just to hear the praise from others. It felt nice to be treated kindly. Better than nice. But again, he’d never admit it. He’d just respond with a clever quip. Never did anyone hear a thanks (but most quickly figured out he was grateful from the obvious burning red on his copper-toned neck and ears).

- Weeks drag on, and to distract himself from the impatience of going back to his normal, Starscream becomes an excellent swimmer. He finds it is like flying, the way the water holds up his body. When he holds his breath and dips under the surface, he can almost imagine his rocket boosters on his pedestal holding him aloft in the sky.

- From the work it took, he gained a slight appreciated for how his human body worked. At first he thought it was a hindrance. But as he worked with the others, he began to have an understanding that unsettled the cybertronian part of him.

- Humans were incredibly versatile. After he began to improve greatly at swimming, he asked about other activities humans did for exercise. The resulted in learning that humans didn’t always “exercise” to become strong. Many did it for fun. It was a hobby to them, and the exercise was a great benefit. It kept their minds clear, it kept their bodies healthy, and it satisfies a part of them that he was only beginning to discover.

- Starscream was aware of human creativity. It’s what had made their species a slight hindrance when they aided the autobots in the war, but because of their size, they were seen as nothing but bugs. Pests at the most. But as the con experienced this small bit of human life, he began to understand there was more to them than he’d like to admit. There was this drive to do things, to push themselves beyond their current capabilities.

- He learned of skills that human no longer needed but still learned to take pride in for fun. Swimming was only a base skill. There were humans that attempted to swim across the oceans just to see if they could, even with the high chance of death. Beyond swimming, there was running across land for days on end, jumping off cliffs and diving in spectacular ways, gliding across the sky’s on flimsy metal pipes and fabric, and so much more. Their adaptability to any environment was envious.

- It nearly terrified him, the thought of what if humans were the same size as cybertronians. What if they could acutally measure up to other species of their universe? They could do anything. They would be a real threat. Or the greatest ally any race could ask for.

- His lid has been flipped.

- Eventually he wakes up back in his habsuite in his normal body. The euphoria that rushes through him at the familiarity his nothing he’s ever experienced before. Checking his info screens, he discovers no time passed. As if he had dreamed all of it. But when he looks to his desk in the room, he sees it.

- Starscream picks the item up, inspecting it, and feels his spark skip a pulse. It’s a small ring and chain, attached to two metal objects. Both in the shape and color of a pineapple and raspberry.

#humans are space orcs #humans are crazy #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #transformers #transformers prime #shower thoughts #maccadam #starscream #transformers idw

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yorsgirl · 30 days

Text

So Do I

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Third and Final year of college and your eyes are set on the student council president seat. Life is great until you have got the most infuriating, stuck-up, arrogant jerk setting eyes on that same spot.

A battle of intellects? Sure, there's no way both of you can get the same aggregate. Right..?

Tropes: Academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, College AU, 18+

Warnings: Mentions of knife and blood, minor assault, nothing serious, profanity, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Throw in all the cliches of forced proximity, slow burn, mutual pinning, fluff and a generous amount of spice. Ta da! You've made this. Bits and pieces inspired from the anime and manga, Kaguya Sama: Love is war.

𝟏 - 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

"Same marks."

"Excuse me?" You say and at the same time hear Levi's - "What?"

Principal Zackly fixes his glasses, taking once over at the reports in his hand. Sighing he turns back to the both of you. "Just what you heard, kids. Both of you have an overall aggregate of 95.7 percent." He tilts his head to the side, "It's impressive, honestly."

"It isn't," You grumble, folding your hand over your chest. You shoot a glare at Levi from your periphery and he returns it with equal fervour.

"I can't get the same marks as her." The word rolls down his lips with distaste, his face scrunching up.

You scoff, "Oh please, I can't get the same marks as you." You hiss. You turn to Zackly, "It's ridiculous. There has to be some mistake. Can't you double check it, sir?"

"I did, so did your professors. Twice," He affirms, turning the report over to both of you and pushes it forward, "Take a look yourself."

Sheets on the desk and you scan your eyes on the grades till the last row where GRAND AVERAGE - 95.7, is printed. You take a peek over at his report and the same words with digits are printed.

You want to laugh. This must be some funny joke. But it isn't.

This grade will decide who'll ascend the seat to the student council president after the farewell party of your seniors, this coming April. You had your eyes on that spot since the first day of your first year, one of the other reasons you toiled so hard in your all of your classes, never scoring lesser than a ninety(except that one time in first year when you procrastinated an assignment until very late and ended up with a eighty-five) and completing all your projects, whether major or minor, on time.

All this and still you always earned the second place.

The first? It's obvious. The most arrogant jerk of the whole campus - Levi Ackerman.

What hits the nerve more is his nonchalance like all of it doesn't matter except it does cause he was able to beat you always with the least minimum effort as it seems. He is damn talented, you'd give him that but at times its infuriating. Not to mention, he's a stuck up bastard.

Once in your second year mid-term, your professor had made him your lab partner for the day. And this jerk stepped up to you, gave you an once over look while clicking his tongue and said, "Don't get in my way." The sheer audacity had you fuming. So much so, you crossed out your own observatory datas and did them all over again even if that meant you had to stay back an extra hour.

Bottom line: Levi Ackerman is a arrogant bastard.

Toxicity is a good motivation cause you poured out all of your anger in this final exams. You were sure, you'd beat him but you only received a tie. A fucking tie.

You sent a glare his way, gritting your teeth before turning back to Zackly. "You have it wrong, sir. I have a 99 in biochemistry, he only has 96."

"Did you miss the solid 100 beside human anatomy? Must be the reason why you're so damn weak in this." He is quick to shoot back, rolling his eyes. "94… pathetic."

You audibly gasp, slamming your report down on the table. You compose your state before speaking up, "Don't you go about talking about eyesight when you've only got a 15 in physiology practical."

"Why don't you enlighten me on why you've got an A minus in viva?" He hisses, crossing his legs one over the other. "While we are on that, why don't you classify the families in arthropods."

Oh, so that was is now? He is stepping on your lessons to downplay you. Well, well, he can be your guest. "Gladly, I will." You scoff. "Before that why don't you list out the optimum-"

"That's enough," Zackly hits the desk twice, diverting both of your attention to him. "Remember that, this is a College."

You straighten up in your seat, seemingly a bit embarrassed about losing your composure before your principal. You can swear Levi brings out the worst in you. But he is sitting beside you and he seems fine and it just annoys you more. All you want to do is to remove that expression (which is neutral) off his face.

A silence prevails for a minute until Zackly breaks it. "Now we have that settled, let's move on to who'll be the council pres-"

"It's going to be me." You and Levi say in unison. The stress and fire matches in that statement. You glance at him and he glances back at you. The next second, the look changes into a scowl.

Levi turns to Zackly, "This is stupid. I am more eligible to be the president."

"Oh yeah? On what basis?" You sneered back, scrunching your eyebrows. You continue, "As far as I know, the council needs no egoistical jerk like you."

He shoots you a nasty look, raising his eyebrow. He speaks, "You seem to know a lot of council requisites, don't you Miss reckless?"

"The hell-"

"Here, stop it," Zackly announces, his hand meeting his desk louder than the last time. "Maintain the protocol."

You curse under your breath for letting your anger get the better of you. Nope, no more. You aren't letting him affect you anymore. You wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the time you're in the principal's office. No look, no glares, nothing.

Levi seems to think the same as he rolls his eyes and settles his gaze on the principal.

The man sighs then begins, "As I was saying, after talking with our senior professors and the current president-" He pauses, clearing his throat. "We've decided that both of you can co-preside over the student body."

"We can what?" The words leave your mouth before you can get the chance to stop them. "Co-preside? Is that even a thing?"

"Honestly, it is." The corners of his lips turn up into a slight smile. "Some like seven years ago, we had a similar case where two of our students were elected co-presidents."

"And?" Levi questions. "Which one of them died?"

His eyes flicker to the man beside you, tints of amusement evident. "Not so, they'd been the best of friends before being elected, even after that we didn't witness any animosity in them." He takes a pause, "I might say, working together made them bond stronger."

Well yeah, sounds convenient. But not to you. Sharing the top spot with anyone doesn't excite you the slightest even if it was your friend. There is no chance in hell you want to co-preside with anyone. And absolutely not with Levi out of all people.

"Isn't there no other way?" You groan, "Just take another test or something. I swear to beat him this time." You jerk your thumb towards Levi.

"You mean, you swear to lose this time-" He bites back, before adding, "-again."

You're almost tempted to shoot another quip at him but luckily you are able to restrain yourself. Thank God, for your self-control.

Zackly starts again, perching his elbow on top of the table. "We've already discussed that matter with your professors and the answer is - No." He notices that both of you are going to argue again, so he raises his hand to stop any more speech. He heaves out a breath and starts explaining himself. "Your final year is starting from next week, most of our teaching staff wouldn't return until a day before and the ones who have stayed back are already occupied with the exams of your seniors. The situation's tight, conducting another examination for y'all isn't feasible."

No word is uttered after his reasoning. Momentarily, both of your thoughts are inclined in the same direction (that's what you think). On top of that preparing for another exam in just a week's time doesn't sound so great. Even if you put your mind and heart into it, you aren't sure if you can truly beat Levi; who can apparently just wing it without picking up a damn book.

You swear this guy had some super powers.

The older man continues, noticing the thick silence engulfing the room. "This is just what I suggest, but being co-presidents isn't completely a bad idea."

I am not working with this asshole. You're about to say but Zackly's next words stop you.

"However, if anyone of you have a problem then you're free to back out and the other one can be the President." He tilts his head to the side, grinning softly. "The other can go for VP or another role in the council, let's say- secretary?"

Out of question. Be it Vice President or even the treasurer, you aren't settling for anything lower than President, whatsoever happens.

Your eyes flicker to Levi, he does the same immediately. And the look he gives you is a clear indication of what he wants to say - I am not backing out.

How lovely. You aren't backing out either.

"The God's hate me." You announce as soon as you enter your friend's dormitory, slumping back on her bed.

"No, they don't." Nanaba, who was on her phone until you arrived, pivots around to you. Her lip curling up into a little smile.

You would've returned the gesture, but you were too burnt out from this whole ordeal. "They do." You whined, "What did I even do to deserve their wrath?" You flip over on the bed, pulling a pillow and burying your face in it. Grumbling a string of curses to yourself.

She stands up from her chair, walking over and sitting down beside you. Rubbing your back in a soothing way, she asks "Girl, what happened?"

You groan, sitting back up and facing her. You scantily run her through the entire mess you've got yourself stuck in. She nods and hums in between, letting you know she's listening.

"…and now, I have to co-preside with him." Your face scrunches up in disgust. Stark contrast to how you envisioned yourself to be while being handed this position. Now, you were the president- sorry, co-president now, still you couldn't get any joy out of it. (Duh! Like you got a stuck up, egoistical jerk as your partner.)

"Doesn't sound that bad, you know?" Nanaba says, after you are done with your tale.

"Right," You confirm, a bitter taste filling your mouth. "It isn't just bad, its fucking nasty."

"Now, you're just letting your anger speak." Her lips twist up, "C'mon, how bad can it be?"

"The worst." Your lips stretch into a sarcastic grin. "After I end up slitting his throat."

"You’re contemplating murder?"

"I would contemplate torture too but I am too much of a nice person." You shrug, marking the weirded out expression on her face until its replaced by a snort.

"If you need any help while hiding his body, call me." She winks and this time you genuinely smile at her. God, only Nanaba could lift your mood like this.

You shared a room with her in your first year, creating a bond over time. It explains itself, she's outgoing, funny, confident and smart. She was your first friend here and thanks to her you've made other few friends around the campus. Otherwise, you wonder you'd have ended up like a lonely college student, owing to your introvert nature and hesitance in meeting new people.

After being promoted to second year, single rooms were allowed. Though you loved having your own space, you missed being her roommate. Adding to your studies and the increased pressure, your meetings weren't as much as previous so whenever you'd have time, you'll just come over to her room or she'll visit yours. Needless, to say. The bond was still strong.

"Honestly though," Nanaba starts, leaning back on the bedframe. "You shouldn't be slumping like this. Like c'mon you're now the president-"

"Co-president," You correct her.

"Yeah that, co-president. Still isn't it better? He didn't win, this time."

"He didn't," You confirm, pursuing your lips. "But I didn't either, it’s a draw. A fucking draw." You groan. "I would've preferred losing."

"Really?"

"No."

"Thought so," She raises an eyebrow and smiles. "See? It's still better."

You hum, pinching your lips together and look out the window. Maybe it isn't as bad. Still, you'd choose a win over tie any day.

"We should celebrate." She declares, picking up her phone from the table.

You crane your neck towards her quickly, eyebrows shooting up with confusion. "Celebrate? Celebrate what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yep!" She chirps, "We are celebrating you finally becoming our president."

You don't bother correcting her rather roll your eyes. "I can't," You dismiss, waving your hand. "I have to study."

A frown forms on her face, "What are you even going to study? We haven't even started our classes."

That's true. But you can at least read the chapters before starting the semester, You had checked the syllabus online plus your books didn't say much except that the syllabus is huge.

"A stitch in time saves nine." You answer with a shrug.

"Awe c'mon," She whines, placing a hand on her hips. "Don't be a kill joy now."

"I'm not a- you know, I don't like to going out for no reason."

"This isn't for no reason, it's for you. Besides, a little bit of fresh air would help you ease up." She reasons, though you weren't convinced enough. Sounds fun, but you'd choose to stay in rather than going out for some celebration. Nanaba notes the reluctance, conjuring the most puppy eyes she pleas, "Aww, c'mon Ivy. Please. Just one celebration."

That adorableness could've worked, if you weren't so damn tired. You're about to deny her again until you hear a loud crash from downstairs. Both of you instantly stiffen up, but before your former roommate can react, you're out of her room. Rushing down the stairs to the common room.

"What's happening in…" Your question dies down but your eyes widen.

It’s the first years.

An ash-brown haired boy, Jean has his peer, Eren in a headlock. The latter's face is pale due to lack of oxygen while he threw sullen punches over the boy's arm. A second later, Eren is pulling Jean down by his collar when his grip loosens, pushing the guy down on the floor, he throws a punch at his face.

"What the fuck?" You shout, trying to step in between them but you are stopped by a bald boy - Connie.

"Miss. Sea, I- I don't think you should intervene," He utters nervously, glancing back at the fight to you again.

"Why in the fucking world are they wrestling?" Connie is about to answer you but no, it isn't the time for reasons. It's time for action before the fight before you causes a backward reaction and a student ends up being expelled, other in a hospital.

You walk up to them, carefully stepping aside the fumbled, almost broken furniture. "Eren- Jean- stop it. Hey no, you- Eren let him go." You are shrieking their names in a higher tone of voice than usual still they don't seem to even hear you. Narrowly missing colliding with Eren when he is pushed back by Jean. Stepping between them would do no good except that you might end up in a hospital.

Cursing under your breath, you resort to the last method.

Five seconds later, its pin drop silence and there's a chopping knife piercing the wall, just an inch aside Jean's head.

"For the last damn time, stop this."

"Miss Sea, did you really have to throw a knife at us?"

Eren is quick to shut his mouth, miming to lock his lips and throwing away the key once you glare down at him. Aside him sits Jean, glancing at his lap. Both of them have dried blood near their mouth, few cuts here and there in the arms and forehead but luckily nothing serious.

The knife which you threw at them, previously, was in your hand. You ran your thumb over the flat side of the blade.

"Jesus Christ," You groan, pinching the area between your eyebrows. "Do y'all even learn? It's the fourth time– I don't want to heat it." You declare the last part, when you see their mouths opening in protest. Fortunately, they don't speak.

Eren, Jean and Connie were the first years and your juniors. There were a couple of other students too which you were familiar with. You assume the others were out, running some errands or just in their room, not bothering to step out even after hearing the ruckus. You don't blame them, Jean and Eren had been at each other's throats since the first day they arrived. Constantly, picking fights with one another.

You sigh, "See I don't want to write you up to the head warden and get you into trouble before your first day itself." You pause, your eyebrows scrunching up, "But the way, both of you are getting into fights so frequently– someone other than me would. And I am sure, none of you want that?"

Their silence answers in itself but you hear murmurs of - No, from both. You weren't entirely sure if they could keep their word, considering they had said the same before too. Yet, you were ready to give them another chance. It's never too late to change. Besides, they were good kids. A pleased smile forms on your lips and you put the knife down on the table.

"Good, now better clean up this mess–" You point to the common room where the chairs are upside down, the table pushed to the side and the cushions of the couch no where to be seen. "Then go clean yourselves up."

Sighs of relief are heard from the boys before you and the one beside you. "Damn, that was suffocating," Connie mutters to himself, wiping his forehead.

"I though I might die." Jean murmurs, standing up from the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the boy as Eren follows suit.

"You know I wouldn't have aimed that knife at any of your vital points."

"Vital points, right." Eren confirms, rolling his eyes. He heaves out a deep breath, "Has anyone told you that you're scary, Miss Sea?"

Your eyebrow twitches, a smirk curling up in your lips. An answer for itself. "You want numbers?"

"Nevermind." Eren rolls his eyes, strolling back while picking up a chair and placing it where it belonged.

Just then, you hear footsteps and there she is – Nanaba. Walking down the stairs after this ordeal is over.

"You are here now?" You ask exasparately.

"I knew you could take care of whatever it was," She says and tilts her head to the side, motioning to the pair of boys cleaning up the room. "And I was right, you settled it. So what did it take this time around?"

"A knife."

"Glare was more effective though," Connie chimes in. "Miss Sea–"

"I have a name Connie."

"I know your name," He interrupts you. "But I prefer Miss Sea, better than Miss Substitute Educational Assistant."

"You can just call me–"

"Miss Sea, it is." The boys says, leaving no room for discussion.

You give up, there's no point arguing with first years who has their mind set on something. Besides, you don't really hate that nickname. Seas are nice.

"Easy on the nickname," Nanaba speaks, locking her hands behind her back. "You might give her a new one, Miss President sounds nice or just Prez."

"Nanaba."

But the announcement is loud enough for the boys to hear. Putting the dots together, they crane their necks towards you, eyes widening with surprise.

"No way," Jean says, surprise evident on his face. "You're our president?"

You want to correct him but no, that would lead to more questions then you'll have to give answers and nah– you're too tired for that. You just nod your head.

A flurry of 'wows' and 'congratulations' flows out of the boys plus the factor of endearing words which you accept with a smile and a meek - thank you. A heat rushes up your cheek, chest swelling with pride, whatever the case maybe, compliments have you weak.

Breathing out, you tug on Nanaba's shirt. She looks at you and you smile. "You know, I take up your offer. Let's go out."

Yes, maybe you can use a bit of celebration. A breath of fresh air accompanied by your friends before stepping into the dreadful third year.

Yeah, you need it.

And this outing, may just be right for you.

You could have only been so wrong.

A/N: Wrote this in a day, don't know how it turned out except that I am super excited in continuing this. If anyone wants to be tagged, let me know. Thanks for reading! Likes and comments are appreciated.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #capatain levi #levi #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman aot #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #snk levi

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intoxicated-chan · 28 days

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ༻ 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞-𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

(A/n) ➳ I have written this over three times as an attempt to get Daemon’s personality correct and I butchered his character... P.S, I used a High Valyrain translator. I’m not sure how correct it is but you can find it HERE.

Word Count ➳ 1.8k

Content Warnings ➳ 3rd P.O.V, alcohol use, theft, threats of violence, mentions of murder, mentions of death, mentions of war...

AWOIAF Masterlist

Daemon stepped into the Prancing Pony, slipping off his waterlogged hood to reveal his platinum blonde hair and violet eyes. It was a candlelit inn, a seemingly calm one for the night. He observed the inn a couple of hours before entering, he wanted to make sure few eyes were on him.

But his observation of the inn did him nothing, everyone stared at him, gaining all kinds of attention. Good or bad. He kept his arm rested on his sword, making his weapon known so no one would dare.

He approached the bar, setting his pouch of coin he stole off a drunk bystander. “A pint of strong ale.”

The bartender eyed him before pouring his drink. Daemon handed the man the coin, taking the wooden mug in return.

His nose scrunched at the heavy and bitter taste of the ale. Daemon could certainly hold his own when it came to drinking but this was different. He took the mug as he left the bar and made himself comfortable in a corner with a man.

It was his contact from the last lead that led him to the Prancing Pony. “I was right to say you are not from these parts.” The man started. “You are causing trouble, drawing eyes from people you do not want to start a war with.”

Daemon scoffed, laughing to himself. “These people are the least of my worries. I only care of the dragon people speak of.”

But the man started to laugh, too loud for Daemon’s taste. “The dragon they only hear of is Smaug.” Yet his eyes became wide with a mixture of fascination and fear. “I’ve seen another, not as big but just as fearsome.” He murmured.

Daemon breathed deeply, his jaw clenched as his grip tightened around his mug. “And you dare hold the information from me?”

The man rolled his eyes. He sat back in his chair, throwing his leg over the table. “Go East of the Misty Mountains, you will find Mirkwood.” The man ignored his questions and pointed at his hair. “You will find its rider, a woman with strands of hair that match yours.”

“Now you give me this information? At no cost?”

“You cannot scare me, Daemon Targaryen. There are many things worse than dragon fire.”

Daemon rushed out of the inn feeling frustrated, he was played like a fool. Another reason to despise this place.

He pulled his hood over his head as the rain poured heavily down on him.

He always knew his older brother was obsessed with omens and prophecies, but Daemon was able to believe in one of Visery’s dreams. a Targaryen had found their own path to safety, escaping the calamity that took their home.

“The Targaryen dynasty will rule beyond Westeros.”

He was stuck in his mind for hours, keeping himself busy until he found Caraxes still deep in his slumber. Daemon took a breath before he spoke softly in High Valyrian, running his hand over his long and slender neck.

“Vēzot, Caraxes.”

Daemon flew to the East of the Misty Mountains, it was a trip of two days, three before he found Mirkwood. A kingdom surrounded by woods, isolated from the rest of the world.

Caraxes landed just feet away from the narrow bridge, but his neck was long enough to reach the gates where two guards stood.

They remained still as they felt Caraxes’s hot breath and saw him bare his teeth.

Daemon sat up tall in his saddle, he relaxed one wrist over the other. “I demand an audience with your lord!” He exclaimed. “Step aside and you shall live to go home to your families.”

Caraxes grumbled when the guards did not move or say a word. Daemon clicked his tongue after another minute of silence. He wanted to take his brother’s words into consideration. How he must learn to control his anger, how this world was unlike Westeros.

Talking was getting Daemon nowhere since he was met with silence. “It is a simple request that I am sure you can fulfill, I have no need to burn your kingdom but turn me away and I will.”

But it was a failure.

Yes, they reacted, drawing their bows, and shouting in their tongues. It was not the reaction he was hoping for...

“You have chosen your own fates.” Caraxes pulled back and opened his jaws. “Drac-”

Suddenly, the gates creaked open, another Legolas stood at the entrance, walking forward with his bow in hand.

“You seek and audience with our King.” Legolas stated, looking up at Daemon with a stern expression. “But first, you must hand over your weapons. I shall not let you approach the King armed.”

Daemon's eyes narrowed, his hand itching to draw Dark Sister and so he declared.

“We must obey by their rules, it’s their land but it won’t be for long.”

Dameon gave a curt nod and huffed. He dismounted Caraxes to stand before Legolas. He drew his sword along with its scabbard.

Legolas shouted orders the guards to come forward, his eyes glued on Daemon. They came forward, taking everything out of his hands, Dark Sister, and his cloak.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he knew it gained him access to Mirkwood.

Legolas was sure there were no more weapons on him. “The King awaits.” He turned his back, walking back into the kingdom with Daemon behind him.

He took one final glance, watching Caraxes whistle again until the gates shut.

Daemon did not hide his amazement at the inside of Mirkwood, he made his expressions clear and kept his composure but remained carefree. He was surrounded by guards, but he walked like he owned the place as his head stayed high.

Then, it was just Legolas walking with him, and it was not long before he was brought in front of the king.

Thranduil sat on his throne, one leg over the other. His finger tapped the arm rest as he looked at Daemon with a lack of concern.

“My Lord.” Daemon addressed. “It seems you’ve been expecting me.”

Legolas took his place by Tauriel’s side. She whispered in his ear, something making him huff in anger and shaking his head.

Thranduil stood from his throne, his hands clasped together. “Of course I have, you made yourself quite known.” He stepped down the steps. “I received word from an acquaintance, he said your dragon was like a serpent. I wondered what they called your dragon back in Westeros.”

“You’re aware?”

“I’m quite aware.” Thranduil responded. “You’re home called Valyria, dragons that you ride, and you Targaryens... I’m only aware of the name after her relative stepped foot on Middle-Earth with a clutch of eggs and managed to sire many offsprings.”

“Where are they?”

“All of them killed each other, it’s difficult to say what happened but (Y/n) appeared with said egg hatched.” Thranduil slowly circled Daemon. “I cannot speak to what happened to the rest of the clutch but now she’s here and you’re here for her.”

“I intend to bring her home.”

Thranduil stopped at his left side, shaking his head. “You will not take her home. She knows no other home than here, Mirkwood.”

Daemon wanted to punch him, stab him, have him burned to death. But he knew better than to do anything disorderly. “She does not belong here. She belongs with her family, with the rest of the Targaryens.”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed with anger as he got in his face. “I have raised her since she was a babe, she is my ward, my own. I will not allow you to disturb her home and peace.” He took a couple steps back before waving Daemon away.

Tauriel attempted to grab his arm, but Daemon shrugged her off. “She has no place here!” He shouted. “Where is she?!”

Thranduil walked back up to his throne, sneering at Daemon. “You have no right to demand anything for me.” He gestured for Tauriel to proceed, ignoring the threats and curses coming from Daemon, it clearly had no effect on him.

Tauriel summoned the guards. “Hold him.” She readied her bow.

Daemon kicked the elf in the chest, pushing him back. He twisted the other’s arm, grabbing his dagger only for Tauriel to shoot it out of his hands.

“If you wish to keep your hands, you will come.” She held no room for argument. “īlon līs ȳzaldrīzes mērī.” He nearly froze in place and Tauriel could see her words confusing him. But the guards grabbed hold of his arms and Tauriel pushed him to walk.

“We must talk alone.”

Caraxes awoke, he was curled up near the entrance, grumbling when he caught sight of Daemon surrounded. He shoved their hands off him. “My effects?” Tauriel took them from one and handed them to him.

Tauriel nodded at the guards, dismissing them. “How did you get here?” She questioned, eyeing his armor and then his dragon.

His dragon had a saddle too, but it was wrapped around his chest with a three headed dragon.

“I’d care to explain but I do not.” Daemon threw on his cloak. “Yet I only care to learn where did you hear those words.”

“There is a Targaryen here.” She confirmed in a hushed voice. “And I fear that darker things may be her future.”

Daemon's brow furrowed. “Yet why help me?” He questioned, staring down at her.

Tauriel’s expression softened, sadness forming on her face. “I care for (Y/n), deeply.” She confessed, her voice barely audible. “But I fear the path she is on will lead to tragedy. If there is a chance to changer her fate, I must take it.”

“Where is she?”

“I cannot tell you exactly where she is.” She explained. “I received word that she had left the kingdom once again without the King’s permission. But there is a nest, past the Enchanted River. (Y/n) is known to frequent that area.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, he mounted Caraxes and took to the skies. Tauriel watched as Caraxes flew for a couple moments then descended.

“The King will not be pleased if he learned you gave out (Y/n)’s location.” Legolas appeared, looking disappointed. “He could kill her.”

“He will not.” Tauriel sharply retorted.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I would rather (Y/n) perish happily than see her and her dragon fall on the battlefield.”

(Y/n) drew her sword as Caraxes landed in front of her. Aegar’s upper body hovered over her as he growled at the sight of the two, stretching his wings, ready to defend her.

Daemon dismounted Caraxes, approaching (Y/n) but stayed at a safe distance. “Nyke emagon daor māzigon naejot vīlībagon.” He said.

“I have not come to fight.”

Her breath hitched as her heart quickened. She continued to look back and forth, between Daemon and Caraxes. She kept a tight grip on her sword. “Who are you and why have you come?” She ordered loudly.

“I am Daemon Targaryen.” Daemon replied. “And I have come to take you home.”

Taglist ➳ @mrsdurin , @marsmallow433 , @oneiratxxia10 , @sassybutclassy96 ,

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lanitalay · 3 months

Text

One Day : Chapter 6.5

based on the netflix series by the same name

a/n: honestly this has been really cathartic for me to write because in my mind, the reader is harboring so much anger that it shuts her down and i went through something similar last year where I just retreated into myself and it was a dark place to be. So of course I cried writing this. And I never really liked ACOSF but Nesta's arc has always been compelling because i hold on to anger and forgiveness does not come naturally to me. So yeah, enjoy, hopefully.

warnings: angsty, drinking, sad

word count: 800

Masterlist

Winter Solstice was alright in your opinion. Not your favorite holiday, but it wasn’t the worst day of the year. Nesta had reluctantly accepted Feyre’s invitation to the Townhouse but you told her you’d visit Bec, who had been begging you to see you for months now. You were dressed in a coat, mittens and boots and stood in front of the door of your, let's be honest, run down apartment.

You didn’t want to go out. Didn’t want to see your friends’ faces when they looked at you. So you stood by the door for a while, until it got too late to leave, by the time you’d arrive the festivities would be over.

Sighing, you threw off the coat and mittens, opting to flop down on the couch. Nesta said she’d come by when she was done with the Inner Circle. You refused to acknowledge the clawing in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss your friends, you did. But the anger you felt was all consuming. There they were, carrying on like usual and you were still there. Still in the war camps. Praying to the Mother to help you save as many lives as possible. Still stuck in your little cabin with Lenus. It was like having a bloodhound constantly chasing you, never stopping. The memories, the vivid images would come from the very back of your mind and sink their jagged teeth into your flesh.

Without looking you knew the cabinets were empty. The last bottle of wine was somewhere in the bathroom, you’d finished it while getting ready to head out.

There was a knock at the door. It was past midnight, Nesta lasted longer than you thought she would. Though, you hoped she had spoken with her sisters. You get up “finally, let's go to Jax’s, I’m out of booze.” You grab her hand and walk with her out of the building. “How was it?”

“Fine, how was Bec’s”

“Didn’t go.”

“Why?”

“Just couldn’t.” Once at the club you sat down in your usual booth. “The band they have tonight is good.” Music filled the space and you were immediately transported to all the nights spent at Rita’s. “I’ll go get us drinks.”

When you returned to the booth you found that Nesta had taken to the dance floor so you joined her. The club was not packed as usual so you two could dance freely without worrying about bumping into strangers. It was always freeing. Dancing with Nesta, the tingle on your skin from the liquor, multicolor faelights lighting up the space and the music thumping in your chest. Cold hands grabbed at your waist and pulled you back into a male body. You complied and danced against him, reveling in the feel of skin against skin.

The band finished its set and the male you were dancing with still held your hand. “Wanna keep the party going?” He whispered in your ear. You nodded, biting your lower lip. “Nes, we’re gonna head out.” She was standing by the bar talking with Jax and before you turned to leave she grabbed your arm. “Here,” she pulled a small box and envelope from one of her coat pockets.

“What 's this?” But she was too involved in her conversation and your companion was too eager to leave so you didn’t get your answer until you got to the apartment.

You excused yourself and went into your bedroom and immediately pulled out the little box. It was wrapped in pretty blue paper that you couldn’t appreciate at the club. Carefully, you unwrapped and opened it. There was a piece of paper folded neatly, your name scrawled on it in beautiful writing. Something soured in your throat. Taking out the paper allowed you to see what was beneath.

You set it down and read the letter, hoping for an explanation.

“Happy Winter Solstice, in. This is supposed to stay put all day, hope you like it. I miss you.”

“I’m this close to cutting my hair off” you told Azriel, exasperated because your locks kept getting in the way of you inspecting his stitches. “Don’t you have something to tie your hair with?”

“Yeah but they always slip and just cause more problems.”

Inside the box was a cobalt blue ribbon.

“I changed my mind, get out.”

“Baby don’t be like that.”

“Get out!” You forced him up from the couch and shoved him out the door, slamming it shut. Tears cascading down your cheeks the second you were alone.

“She’ll come around eventually.” Bec said as she put an arm on Azriel’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how to help her… she’s made herself a ghost.”

“I’ve known her for longer than you have, Az. She’s hurting… and it hurts to be pushed away by her. It’s like being on the dark side of the moon after a lifetime of sunshine. But she was the same when her parents died and… somehow she put herself back together.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

“Just be there when she comes back.”

#acosf #acotar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #az x reader #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

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Hey, I'm back with another follower celebration request!!! Any chance you’d be willing to do 11 and 13 with again Ezra Bridger? Unsure if this is still open, but if so this would be cool to read! Thanks 😁

Hello gorgeous, @skyofnostars

Thank you for another brilliant request and a good curve ball. So I guess you could see this as a continuation of your previous request, if you want, or on its own.

Hope you love it,

Love oo

The Plan

Warnings: Trouble sleeping, flirting, kisses, forehead kisses, tenderness, discussions of thievery, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You sat in the Phantom looking up to the stars, letting your mind drift back to the old days of when it was Ezra, Sabine, Kanan, Hera, Seb, Chopper and you against the world. Now it was just Hera, Ezra and yourself. Ahsoka and Sabine were still stuck on Peridea. Seb was off training recruits. Hera was busy with Jacen, not to mention dealing with the New Republic nonsense.

So really, it was just you and Ezra.

“Can’t sleep?”

You couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on your lips as soon as you heard his voice, you turned your head slightly to look at him, “Hey.”

Ezra simply smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, while his hand played with your hair while his arm leaned against the headrest, “Hey, you okay?” His thumb gently rubbed your forehead back and forth.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay, I reached over for you and you were gone. I figured something was up, you love sleeping too much to let things keep you from it.”

You chuckled, leaning into his touch, “Yeah, I … I couldn’t stop thinking about Ahsoka and Sabine. I mean they’re stuck out there, just like you were.” Your smile slowly started to fall the more you thought about it, “I’m worried we won’t be able to get them back, or even how we can get them back.”

“Actually, I had a thought on that; but…” he held up his finger smiling at you, “you’ll have to follow me to the galley for some hot chocolate … sorry, hot white chocolate for you to learn about my plans.”

The smile on your lips simply brightened as you looked at him, “You haven’t forgotten.”

“You’re favourite drink? Never. Please.”

There wasn’t any further discussion, you simply stood taking his hand in yours and followed him to the galley, and ten minutes later as promised there was a very warm and very soothing hot white chocolate in your mug. You looked at Ezra with all the love and adoration you’ve been unable to shower him with for the past ten years in that one moment. How you were still able to love him after all this time, as though no time had passed at all was a miracle in itself.

“So you have a grand plan?”

“Oh do I!” He chuckled as he took a sip of his own hot cocoa, he’d been craving it for ten years and now until he was completely sick of the taste, that would be his drink of choice. At least in the evenings, and mornings. Maybe sometimes at lunch. “It’s simple really.”

“Okay, I’m all ears, since it’s so simple.”

“We steal Thrawn’s ship.”

The statement was so matter of fact, so simple and so incredibly insane. Your eyes fluttered as you looked at Ezra, utter shock strewn across your face.

“We steal Thrawn’s ship?”

“We steal Thrawn’s ship.” He shrugged, the answer was just that simple.

You scratched your head as you repeated the sentence another five times in your head, each time with different inflections, different tonal variations, and no matter how it sounded in your head, no matter how melodious those words may have flown out of Ezra’s mouth, that was just pure insanity.

A large sigh escaped your lips as you looked at your mug for a second before looking at Ezra, nodding. “Okay. Okay. So … let’s say you go through with this absolutely fool hardy idea. That you steal Thrawn’s ship. Not that I’m doubting you, I’ve seen you do enough crazy things to know it’s possible for you to actually accomplish this. However, let’s go through this step by step.” You ran your hand down your face and let out a chuckle. “First, let’s start with the basics. How are you going to get onboard in the first place? I mean you can’t just knock on the front door and say hey I’m here.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not serious?”

“Why not?”

“Ezra! Stop with the questions and just answer me.”

He let out a smile as he took another sip, “Listen we have one of Thrawn’s shuttles. I have one of his stormtrooper uniforms. So … why can’t I just show up.”

“Because it’s Thrawn, that man has plans for his plans. He has backup plans for those plans. And then backups for his backups. I’m sure without a doubt that he knows you’re the one who stole the ship to begin with, and no doubt that stormtrooper had some questions when he woke up naked. So … yeah, I don’t think it would be that easy.”

“Maybe not if I just show up out of the blue, however, what if I snuck back on board during a fight.”

“During a fight?” Somehow this started to sound like a plan and that in itself was scary.

“Yeah, we could have Hera’s fighters, and maybe some other New Republic soldiers start a battle, while they’re keeping Thrawn and his forces distracted, I sneak on the ship.”

“And then what?”

“Then while I’m onboard, I’ll get them to abandon ship.”

You nodded as you listened, “Knowing you, you’ll probably do some Jedi mind trick thingy” you waved your hand in front of him smirking, “telling the bridge officer or someone in engineering they need to make a ship wide announcement to abandon ship or something.”

Ezra nodded, smirking as he took your hand in his, “Exactly, piece of cake.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, squeezing your hand, “That is, until …” your smile dropped, “until Thrawn decides the easiest way to deal with you is to kill you.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t sweetheart me, you know he’s on the verge of a complete and utter mental breakdown. He’s dangerous and he could easily kill you.”

“He’s dangerous but he’s not all powerful. My ally is the force, and it will never let me down.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, “You better not die, because the only one who gets to kill you, is me. So you tell the force, that it better have your back or else.”

Ezra pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours as one hand pressed your hand into his chest, while the other held the back of your head, keeping you close. “Sweetheart, I’m never leaving you again. Not when I just got you back. Plus we still need to figure out what Thrawn’s planning first, but once we have our opening, I’m going to take it, to get our family back.”

You nodded against his head, “Alright, but I’ll come with you. You’re not leaving my side ever again.”

He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with determination and promise. “You won’t ever have to leave my side. I promise.”

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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tallatonk · 2 months

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The hideduo fic i promised. Any comments or thoughts on this are appreciated, this is still a work in progress! Fic is under the cut.

tw: small tiny cannibalism mention, teehee

When You’re Too Scared To Say I Love You

Fit grabbed the nearest book and erased its contents in a rush. The pit in his stomach swelling, the urge to write this letter for Pac is strong. He had so much to say and so little time, the sense that someone, or something, was watching him plagued him all day.

A shaky breath left him as he picked up his pen to write.

“Dear Pac,” he mumbled as he scribbled through the book. “I miss you so much, I wish you were here right now.” Fit stared into the page, god he can’t say that.

This was so embarrassing. Not that loving Pac was embarrassing, but rather trying to pour his heart out about exactly what he was feeling was. The world suddenly felt like it was going to implode, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his mind he never shared with the man. Yet here he was, too scared to write a few simple words.

He’s one of the toughest people on the server, hardened by the years of 2b2t. His life had been and still is filled with pain, war, and the type of things that would put fear into most. But out of all of that, this scared him the most. This was the first thing in years to make his palm sweat and feel as if he was on hardcore mode.

It was both infuriating and infatuating, the way Pac affected him this much almost too much but not enough at the same time.

Fit pressed his hands into his face, as if it would help his internal battle, groaning to himself he looked towards the letter again. He can do this, he’s got this. He felt that deep sleep feeling coming, so this had to happen. He had to write this letter. He deleted what he wrote before, forcing his thoughts to focus on a new letter..

He’d restart the letter over and over again as long as he could, the best for Pac.

“I haven't seen you in many days, I hope you are enjoying your sleep. I have been feeling very tired recently and I feel like I will be having a very long sleep soon,” his heart felt it was beating out of his chest as he thought about the possibility he wouldn’t be able to see Pac again. He continued, pushing those negative thoughts in the back of his mind . “If I don’t see you for a while, I want you to know how special you are to me.” That's it, he thought after mumbling those last words, this is how he’ll say it.

Fit paused, reading his words over as though he finally said it to Pac in person.

“I know we haven’t been able to spend much time together, but you are always on my mind. It doesn’t matter how often you spend time with someone, it matters how much you think about them.” The American's eyes begin to sting, he pretends it's the sudden tiredness rather than the tears threatening to fall.

“The next time I see you, I have a lot of things I want to say. Good things, don’t worry.” He lets out a small, bittersweet laugh as a warm tear runs down his cheek. Would he even be able to say what he wants when he sees Pac next? He can barely get down what to say in a letter, but in person?

It feels impossible.

He shakes his head and smiles to himself, he’ll do this the only way he knows how.

“But until then, I hope you are doing well and enjoying yourself. Also, my robe has been SUPER soft since you gave it back to me, so I owe you! I’ll have more fofoca soon! Yours truly, Fit.” He covers his feelings with jokes, just like always.

Something that Pac probably figured out about him by now.

The pain was nauseating, the wounds scoring down his chest to his stomach made him want to curl up and die. Fit was stuck in this cave for 2 weeks. 2 weeks surrounded by dead bodies and rock. 2 weeks of being on half a heart and unable to eat anything. The desire to go back to his old ways called to him, to consume the rotted flesh in front of him. He couldn’t do it, with everything Madagio told him– these were their friends, their fellow island members.

Fit threw his head back in agony and screamed. He screamed until his lungs hurt, until his face grew red. He didn’t stop until he was sure the whole empty island heard him. His voice broke as he began to sob. Fit was stuck here, all alone. Things always came back to this, him all alone surrounded by the dead.

How i want it to finish--- Something something he doesn't wanna eat people, he breaks down and cries, he screams at the bodies and Madagio, and regrets not telling Pac he loves him. He cries out that he loves him and that he wishes he can see him again. He thinks he's gonna die down here, he mentions that at least he’ll see Max and the dead eggs again, and maybe even get to punch Spreen for leaving him and Ramon.

#this might be ooc but who cares #im gay #NEW TAG TIME #talla writes #qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp pac #fitmc #pactw #hideduo #fitpac #qsmp fanfiction #hideduo fanfic

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mykingdomforasong · 1 year

Note

Skysolo: “quick, kiss me!”

[prompt list]

Han thought the Rebellion might be a good chance to get closer to the young man he'd turned his entire life around for, physically and emotionally. In his experience, military downtime was the perfect opportunity for some ... bonding.

But he hadn't had much bonding time with Luke. The war kept them pulled in different directions, and some days the closest they could get to a conversation, let alone flirting, was making eye contact during a strategy meeting.

They hadn't been totally abstinent, thank the maker. Luke seemed eager to kiss him whenever Han looked at him a little too long, or touched his hair a certain way. Han had even gotten a hand down his pants once (but that didn't last long). But every kiss felt like a chance encounter, a surprise bit of good luck, not a habit.

This reconnaissance mission seemed like the perfect opportunity though. They were undercover now, as they trudged through the low levels of Coruscant, pretending to be lost tourists on their honeymoon. A stroke of genius so good Han couldn't believe he hadn't come up with it. Two womp rats, one shot, as Luke would say. Rebellion heroics and an excuse to be real sweet to Luke.

Han held his hand as they walked, talking in hushed voices about the intel they needed, and then talking in loud voices about the sights and sounds. It wasn't hard for Luke to look so amazed; his blue eyes had been wide with wonder since they landed on the Imp-ridden planet. Han smiled every time he looked over and caught Luke staring up at the hovercars and skyscrapers above him, mouth open in wonder.

"You're good at this tourist act," Han teased.

Luke shoved him. "There's a lot of the galaxy I haven't seen before," he defended.

"You know if you had taken my offer, you'd've seen a lot more of it by now," Han said.

"I'm sure that after a few long hyperspace trips with me, you'd throw me out of the airlock," Luke said.

Han let go of his hand in favor of swinging an arm over Luke's shoulder and pulling him in close. "You? Never." He switched to a more obviously affected, theatrical voice. "You're the love of my life, hubby."

"Hubby?" Luke asked.

"Too much?"

"A bit, I think," Luke said, a smile on his lips.

They walked along the damp sidewalks, illuminated by neon signs advertising cheap restaurants and strippers (some at the same time), until they heard the familiar sounds of plastoid armor clunking its way around the corner.

"There's at least six of them," Luke said, suddenly worried. The two of them were hardly noticeable in their street clothes, but there wasn't a crowd for them to blend it. All the locals had disappeared inside. He turned to try and get into a noodle shop, but they'd locked the doors behind them.

"Kiss me," Han said, "quick."

Luke blinked fast at him. "That never works!"

"It might work!"

"No your plans never work. You get around on luck --"

"It's not luck! I know what I'm doing --"

"--we're stuck alone down here and --"

"--I didn't have anything to do with that --"

Their disagreement turned into a shouting match quick. It had occurred to Han more than once that both Luke and Leia were expert arguers, bypassing whatever the argument was about to get right to his soft, vulnerable, emotional underbelly. Just Han's luck it seemed.

The sound of their shouting and the ambient noise of the city completely distracted Han from the approaching footsteps. He only registered the stormtrooper presence when one of them said: "It's just a lovers quarrel, leave them to it,"

Han and Luke looked over to see three of the troopers turning away from them quickly to march forward.

Han leaned in. "Did we give anything away?"

Luke shook his head. "That worked out better than kissing."

Han pouted. "Maybe, but it wasn't as fun."

Luke smiled. "I had fun."

"I thought the Jedi were supposed to be all peaceful and shit," Han complained, turning to keep walking.

"I thought you didn't believe in the Force," Luke countered.

"Yeah but you do, and as long as you do, I'm gonna help you stay on track ... religiously and all that," Han said.

"And kissing is the way to do that?" Luke asked.

"You never know. Could be," Han said.

"You know ... we're close to the ruins of the old Jedi temple ... we could look for an answer," Luke offered.

"No detours," Han said.

"It's not," Luke protested. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a holo from Leia. "Direct instructions to me."

Han shook his head in confusion. "I wasn't told."

"I figured you wouldn't sign up for the mission if you knew hokey old religions were involved," Luke said.

"I would have, for you," Han argued. "And you could have told me sooner."

"You were bound to find out," Luke said.

Han reached down and took his hand again. The streets were still empty, so it was hard to say this was for their cover. "So ... you wanted me on this mission?"

"Figured you were the best one to pretend to be married to," Luke said, a forced casual tone in his voice that Han noticed right away.

"The best one?" Han Laughed. "Out of how many?"

"The whole base I guess," Luke said. It was rare to get Luke blushing, but he was. Han could almost skip with glee.

"Well --!"

"Han, please, drop it," Luke said.

"Why?" Han asked.

Luke almost seemed to squirm. "Just don't want to joke about it, alright."

Han sobered. "Alright kid," Han said. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the block. "You know, I'm not just messing around with you," Han said. "or trying to hurt you."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

Han turned to him. They were standing close enough that Han had to look down just a little to meet his gaze.

"Stop that," Luke said.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that," Luke said.

Han played dumb. "Why?"

"You know why." Luke pressed his lips together tight; Han could see the tension in his brows, but his blue eyes were still looking right into Han's, until they weren't. He glanced down for just a second - to his lips, Han had to assume. And then back up, and then back down, this time lower.

"You can if you want to, baby," Han said. Luke's face relaxed a little. "I want to too."

Luke rediscovered his bravery and leaned up to kiss him, pressing their mouths together in almost the same moment he tangled a hand in Han's hair, another one in the fabric of his shirt. Han was nearly thrown off balance by Luke's enthusiasm, but he managed to match it soon enough.

"Glad to see you two made up," the robotic voice of a Stormtrooper said. They nearly jumped away from each other. "Nothing to worry about," the armored-man assured them, before carrying on.

"Kissing does work," Han said in a hushed voice.

"That was luck," Luke said. Han couldn't disagree.

#skysolo #han solo #luke skywalker #my writing

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sasa-writes-fandom-things · 9 months

Text

Picture is mine.

I WANT MY CAKE AND EAT IT TOO

Pairing: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Fandom: Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order/Survivor Games

Warnings: fluff, teasing on both sides, somewhat canon with the game, not proof read

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: Since I made some cake the other night this idea was stuck in my head. First time writing for this redhead and the other characters might not be acting in canon but I couldn’t care less. My new obsession is strong with me. hehe

Synopsis: A special day demands some special celebration or the time Cal had a proper birthday party with cake and presents.

Minors, do not interact. I am not responsible for your media consumption. By clicking “Keep Reading”, you agree that you are over 18 years old and you consent to reading mature/sexually explicit content.

A whirl of lights smudged with the pitch black of the galaxy flew past the sturdy cockpit of the Mantis. It has been almost a year since you’ve joined this strange crew, you now call family. The engine propelled the ship through hyper speed, unyielding in its path but due to its age - and the fights you’ve all been in - the metal groaned somewhat comfortably in the mix of passing stars and clusters.

You enjoyed those quite moments, when everyone tended to their own things and you were left alone. Normally you would be in the cockpit, reading and just absorbing the moaning of the metal and the gentle rattle of the ship, but not today. Today you could be found in the ships kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets in search for the right ingredients. Cooking was something you enjoyed back when your world was still whole, but since the Empire crashed yours, standing behind a stove became a rare event. You were occupied with staying alive. This changed since you joined Cal and the rest of the crew. They were very appreciative of your cooking talents and it felt right - normal - to cook for the people you care about.

Tonight was no difference, so nobody would question you going about your business in the kitchen. Whipping up some delicious meal. “Krift!” You exclaimed, you were out of eggs. Disappointed you nibbled at your lower lip. Changing the recipe in your head already. “Guess I have to make due without them.” You muttered to yourself and shrugged. A curious leader peaked through the corner accompanied by curious beeps from his trustworthy companion. “Smells good as always, (Y/N).” Cal beamed at you with his boyish grin. A hand crept ever closer to the mixing bowl. “Hands off.” You scoffed and swatted his hand away. “It’s not ready yet” you explained lightly, amused that he tried it every time. “Busted as always.” BD chirped excited and peeked into the bowl too. “Can’t wait.” And with one last longing look into the bowl the redhead left you to it. You shook your head with a disbelieved grin on your face.

Some time had passed and the crew of the Mantis was gathered in the kitchen area. You finished your cooking not long ago and now Gabs was helping you setting the table. It wasn’t dinner time but the crew came to learn that you liked to have a midnight snack so like clockwork they made their way into the kitchen every night. “Let’s see what our skilled chef will dish out today!” Bravo clapped his hands together in anticipation. “You’ll have to wait a bit until everyone is here.” Gabs reminded her friend with a stern voice. “Not fair, I’m craving a nice midnight snack and look it’s past midnight already.” You tuned out their typical banter when Gabs reprimanded him again about patience.

On the kitchen counter hidden from the rest of the crew, stood a freshly baked cake. With skillful hands you were putting down some finishing touches. When you and Gabs had have one of your seldom girls nights, you got a bit melancholic - you blamed the strong booze for that. It has been years since you celebrated any birthday, not only your own. You missed the cake, the presents and the get together. Gabs, who wasn’t immune to the effect of the alcohol, put an arm around your shoulder, raised her glass dangerously high and yelled. “Let’s have a birthday party for Cal. Bet he didn’t had have one either.” It so happen to be his birthday today and you loved the giddy feeling, when you thought about his reaction.

“Cal, you coming? Midnight snack’s ready.” You called out for the Jedi. He was in the back, tinkering at either his lightsaber or BD. “Coming, just finishing something up.” It took a couple of minutes for him, but the look on his face when he entered the dimly lit kitchen was worth the wait. In preparation, you handed each one a sparkler and dimmed the lights so the crackle of lights could be seen better. A few emotions washed over his face when he saw his friends gathered in a somewhat celebratory setting. You noticed how the faint sparkle glistened in his green eyes and you could’ve sworn that they glazed over, when he heard why you did this.

“Happy birthday, pal!”

BD beeped cheerfully and hopped from one food onto the other, a little celebration dance, wishing his friend a happy birthday in his own way. The table was set with small plates, forks and in the middle throned a delicious cake with candles and frosting. “Come come, you need to blow out the candles.” Gabs was as excited as if it was her birthday. She hurried the redhead to his seat. “Close your eyes, make a wish and blow them out.” Cal had already closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, when Gabs interrupted again. “Oh wait.” He opened one eye, holding his breath. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone what you wished for. Otherwise it won’t come true.” Cal looked at her, one eyebrow raised and his breath still hold. “She’s done now.” You saved him from passing out, because Gabs just stared at him, waiting. You snorted involuntarily, she was one to lecture Bravo about patience.

The lights of all candles had gone out with a single blow. Everyone cheered and clapped. You removed the candles from the cake and proceeded to cut it into slices. “Birthday boy first.” You said with a stern voice but with a warm smile, when Bravo was complying again, that he wanted some too. The last slices of cake were put away, the table was cleaned, presents had been hand over and for the rest of the night you all retorted to your own quarters.

Cal was beyond happy and grateful for this little break of the status quo. He was tinkering again at his workbench with an absentminded smile on his face, when you searched for him. “Careful, this happy mood might stick around.” You joked when you stood behind him and placed your hands around his neck. He turned in your embrace and kissed your nose affectionately. “Thank you.” You nudged his nose with yours and stepped closer to him - relishing in his warm presence. “Anytime. But I can’t take all the credit. It was Gabs idea, initially.” You admitted matter of factly. “Then I should thank her too.”

“Hopefully not the same way as you’re gonna thank me.” You smirked up at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Who knows, maybe she’s up for it.” He teased you with this boyish grin you came to love. You loosened your grip around his neck, as if you wanted to break free. “Maybe Bravo wants to have some more cake then.” His grip around your waist tightened and he squeezed the flesh there warningly. “You started it. Don’t forget that, Kestis.” You cocked your head up and closed the distance between your lips. “I’m going to make it up to you.” He mumbled before he leaned into the kiss and reciprocated it.

“You’ve never had cake before?” You shrieked a bit too loud. Your lover shook his head and pursed his lips. “Maybe I did, when I was younger, but I can’t remember it anymore.” You scooted closer to him on your shared bed. You contemplated bringing up his old crew, not wanting to ruin the light hearted mood. As if he read your mind, he continued. “We celebrated birthdays… with Cere and the others… “his voice trailed off and his gaze became distant. “But not with self made cake, hm.” You added quietly. His thoughts returned to the present and his eyes focused on you again. “No, not with that. And besides I don’t think Greez could’ve beat you in baking.” He quipped lovingly. “Stopp schmoozing me up. You’ve got your cake and ate it too.”

#sasa writes #star wars survivor #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x reader

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plussizeappreciationfics · 1 year

Text

OS: Was it worth it? Pt.2

Idea by: me

Requested: No

Pairing: Namor x Plus!Size reader

Warning(s): none

Images/gifs found on google/pinterest

A/N: Ya'll know I'm messy so here's part 2 lol

Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat on the throne, your baby boy sleeping in your arm and wrapped in soft cloth to keep him warm and comfortable while you held your royal spear in the other, clenching your hand around it as the nervousness started to become very intense. The guards held their positions while staring at you, keeping you protected by every passing minute. A rush of gratefulness washed over you as it still was weird to have them in the palace, your own palace. The fact that they voluntarily followed you only made you even prouder as former Queen of Talokan as the biggest lessons had never been forgotten by your people: that you stuck together as a civilization through good and bad times.

You let out a shaky sigh before clearing your throat and raising your chin a little bit. reminding yourself who you are.

“He’s here”.

You spoke in a cold tone, sensing the waves of quick motions through the water. Your heart skipped a beat before it increased its pace again as you didn’t feel fully ready to face him again. Unfortunately, you didn’t have a choice, you couldn’t keep the secret to yourself as he had every right to know the reason why everything happened in the first place.

Just seconds later the giant doors to your throne room were slowly pushed open, half of your guards turning their bodies towards the new guest while the others ’s continued to face you. Your eyes immediately rested upon Namor who came swimming into the room with the help of one of his servants, his right foot wrapped in bandages and cuts and bruises resting all over his body.

You couldn’t hide the amused smirk when he approached you before kneeling down and keeping his head bowed down to show you his respect, his servant copying his actions a few feet behind him.

“Leave us. I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me” you ordered, sensing the doubts of your guards as they feared for the life of their Queen but still obeyed you and made sure to stay outside the room in formation in case something would happen. Namor waited until the last guard left the room and closed the door before lifting his head up and finally looking at you.

Thud…

You listened to his heartbeat which was steady as a rock, his eyes filled with shame, sadness and love.

You continued to scan him from head to toe and couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing, desire and love wash over you as you looked at your husband. He had obviously gone through a lot the past months and you knew all about it because your spies kept you updated on his every move. You couldn’t deny that there were days where you wanted to end it all but you couldn’t do that as the former Queen of Talokan, and now current Queen of Talyra. You were raised to be strong, to not give up as there was always hope on the other side.

“Speak” you ordered.

“[Y/N], former Queen of Tenoch, Queen of Talyra, Mother of Tenoch and my wife, I am coming to you as a humbled King that has been defeated in a war I seeked out. Talokan has suffered a great loss, first of its Queen and now of its citizens….” tears brimmed the eyes of your husband as he allowed himself to sniffle and take a deep breath, his eyes still staring intensely into yours.

You nodded your head as a signal for him to continue.

“I-I lost everything….My honor as King of Talokan, the love of our grown children who have fled our shared palace to join you here and your love. I was a fool. Fooled myself into thinking that I would end up rising like a phoenix from the ashes without you. With someone new”.

You swallowed hard as anxiety.

“What do you want from me” you whispered softly.

“My Queen, please allow me to prove myself as a worthy husband and king to you again. Please forgive me for the hurt and pain I put you through and please let me prove that I’ve learned from this awful mistake and show you how much I still love you and will continue to love you”.

It’s time to show him, mama, the tiny voice from your son spoke in your head, making you look down at your baby boy who was now staring up at you, hiding in the royal wrap while his beautiful big brown eyes spoke to you. You nodded at him and smiled, making him let out an adorable giggle that made your and Namor’s heart flutter in happiness. He was bursting with anticipation to see his son. You averted your gaze back to your husband, dropped your spear and slowly rose from your throne and moved your way down the few steps before hovering in front of him.

“Stand up”.

“As you wish, my Queen”.

The two of you locked eyes once the king rose to his feet and for a split second, your souls connected again. Delicate shivers ran down your spine and your heart fluttered in your chest. Even when being apart for months, your love for him was as strong and powerful as it always had been.

“Look at your son” you shakingly whispered before removing the cloth covering your baby boy and tossing it to the ground. You held baby Namir in front of his father and watched pridefully how his tiny wings fluttered on his little feet. Your husband gasped in shock before kneeling down again, pressing his forehead against the floor while soft sobs left his body.

“The reason why you have been defeated is because you were never meant to win this war. You were never meant to rule over the dry lands. Our son Namir will ease us into a new era, an era where we might have to fight against the dry land walkers. But if we don’t, we will continue to develop into a stronger and smarter civilization. You and I will not live for eternity.”.

“I will spend the rest of my days fighting for your forgiveness, my Queen '', Namor vowed while intense shivers ran up and down his spine. He couldn’t put into words how proud yet ashamed he felt, proud for knowing that his legacy would never cease to exist but ashamed that he thought that he was worthy of eternal life. That he’d be the sole main ruler of Talokan.

He slowly got up to his feet and widened his arms towards Namir, silently asking you permission to hold his son and bond with him. The same way he always had held your other shared children and formed a beautiful bond.

“Not yet. Answer me this question” you spoke, having found your voice again while holding Namir in your arms again so that he could be comfortable.

“I will answer anything you ask me”.

“Was it worth it?”.

The King froze as he never blinked at your question.

“Yes. It was worth it”...”.

Thud…

“I’ve now realized that this was meant to happen…She was meant to happen” your husband spoke without his heart skipping a beat, telling the truth to you.

“I allowed my ego to become bigger than everything you and I have created. Bigger than you, our children and people. She and I were able to share the same generational hatred and disappointment. I confused our shared history of pain with love. We are allies, waiting to merge our forces when future generations attack us. Only allies”.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you nodded your head.

“I am still deeply wounded by your foolish and traitorous actions towards me and our marriage, Namor”, hearing you say his name made him fight back tears again.

“I built this city on my own, in honor of Namir. This is a sacred place I will not allow you or your enemies to destroy”.

“That will never happen”.

Talyra will continue to exist along with Talokan, am I clear?” you stated.

“Yes, my Queen”.

“You and I will continue to reign over Talokan and Tylara as equals. Our children will continue our legacy”, you took a deep breath, “I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to process what you put me through, I cannot guarantee full forgiveness”.

“I’ll make sure to show you every day that you are the love of my life, mother of my children and Queen of Talokan and my heart, even if you find me worthy of forgiveness, [Y/N]”, Namor vowed again before surprising you by gently approaching you and holding you and Namir close to him.

“I am nothing without you, [Y/N]”, Namor his lips against yours, pouring his undying love for you into the kiss and silently promising that he’ll do anything to help you heal from the wounds he inflicted. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you couldn’t help but slowly kiss back, not knowing how your marriage would continue after a disaster like this but hoping tht it would turn for the better. For you, your children and the people of Talokan.

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-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

#namor fic #namor x reader #namor of talokan #namor the sub mariner #namor x oc #namor x plus size reader #black panther

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