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You ever clutch your phone to your chest whenever you finish reading a fanfic and you're like, sighing and thinking "yeah, that one's gonna stay with me forever" and smile all content and happy to yourself because you just read the most amazing thing on earth
#been reading fanfics for roughly 17 years now and i still get that feeling#never stop writing#never stop creating#ao3#livejournal#fanfictions#ive read billions of fics all through my life and jumped from fandom to fandom#writblr#reading#fanfic#fangirl#archive of our own#writing#mcr#fob#1d#frerard#larry stylinson#septiplier#klaine#heartstopper#mikeysgerard#fanfiction
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Kinktober Day 17 - Orgy
Soap x Gaz x Ghost x Price x Rudy x Alejandro x Reader - 5.3k (on ao3)
summary: You have an orgy with your favorite boys. (Reader POV)
cw: double penetration in two holes, double penetration in one hole, spitroasting, sex in front of other people, very light soft degradation, praise, overstimulation
note: this doesn't even have an ATTEMPT at plot alright? we're here to be horny and move on. also i think this is more gangbang than orgy but whatever lol
You’re not sure who you’re making out with. It’s not like you care all that much - laid out on the bed like a queen, Price serving as your throne where he holds you half up with your legs spread - you’re perfectly content to just sit and kiss, for hours on end.
It was Soap first - Soap and his messy kisses, broad stripes licked into your mouth, sucking on your tongue so vehemently you nearly thought he was trying to keep it. He was playful, nipping at your lips, grinning everytime he pulled back enough for you to see.
Then Gaz, who shoved Soap away to have a turn with you. They’d bickered for a moment before Price, from over your shoulder, big hands cupping your chest and massaging, reminded him that he could lick your pussy too. He was more than happy to duck down after that, leaving you with Gaz.
Gaz was sweet, long slow kisses that matched the way Price groped you but were a sharp contrast to the eagerness Soap had. Kyle peppered your mouth with kisses, layering them one over the other and hardly giving you time to breathe between them, while Soap ate you with a fervor you’ve never felt before. The difference in pace left you squirming, just a bit, but Price kept you still for them.
You’re not sure when Gaz left, but Soap’s work on your cunt felt so good, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t open your eyes even to see who next took a turn.
He’s got scruff on his face, which you feel rubbing against your cheeks and your palms when you reach up to hold him. His kisses are fun - you can feel him smiling and humming into your lips - and he works your mouth slowly, tangling your tongue together. Where Soap and Gaz had wanted to explore, your mystery man wants to play.
You want to look and see who it is, but the pleasure doesn’t let you, Soap’s mouth on your clit, two of his fingers buried deep in your ass, Price giving you sharp little pinches around your areolas - it all keeps you just a little too foggy to work up the energy. You’re content to luxuriate in the sensations, to relax back into Price and just let your body feel.
“There you go, doll,” Price coos from over your shoulder. “Nice and relaxed for us, yeah? Gonna need you to stay like that if you want to take us all.”
“Please,” you breathe between kisses, eyelashes fluttering as you finally manage to look up. “Wanna feel you all.”
It’s Rudy above you, a soft smile turning his lips up and leaving crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You reach up to cup his cheek, but at that exact moment Soap takes your clit between his lips and sucks, and your movement is halted as you moan.
You hear and feel both Rudy and Price laugh, and Rudy leans forward the last few inches to nuzzle his cheek into your palm. The two of you lean foreheads against each other as you moan, hips making small grinding motions into Soap’s face.
“You will,” Rudy says. “You’re a good girl, yes?”
You nod with a small keen as Johnny starts to work a third finger inside of your back hole.
He smiles. “Then you’ll take all of us.”
Alejandro replaces Price behind you at a certain point, his hard muscle a much less comfortable chair compared to the soft layer of fat lining Price. He’s smaller though, which means you can roll your face back into his neck and he only has to duck a few inches to give you the kisses you silently request.
“Out of the way, hermano,” Rudy says, softly shoving Soap away from you by the shoulders. Johnny doesn’t go easily at all, growling a little and hammering his fingers into you just a bit harder, enough to have you gasping and squirming. Ghost grabs Johnny by the nape of his neck before he can get too aggressive, yanking him away with an unimpressed look.
“Thanks,” Rudy says on a laugh, getting a nod in return from Ghost. “Now, for you,” he turns to you and smiles, settling himself between your widely spread thighs so his hard member rests on your center, shaft pressing against your clit. “You ready to take us both, cariño?”
“Yes,” you sigh, pulling away from Alejandro and his absolutely sinful mouth, shooting both of them your best pleading look. “Please, want to feel you.”
“Shh,” Alejandro soothes, stroking one hand down the center of your chest and the other lining his own head up with your stretched hole. “You’ll get what you want, just relax for us.”
You take a deep breath, let your eyes slide shut. On the exhale they both push in, a slow thrust that leaves you feeling like you might burst. The three of you moan in sync, your head thrown back to Ale’s shoulder, his forehead falling to your temple, Rudy curling over so he can mouth at one of your nipples.
It takes a bit for them to bottom out inside of them at the slow pace, both of them large men. You’ve never had something quite so large in your ass, but the stretch feels exquisite.
The three of you are panting in sync as soon as you’re filled to the brim.
“You first, hermano,” Alejandro says from above you, his voice rough with desire.
Rudy laughs a little breathlessly. “I’m not going to argue with you.” He pulls far enough back to give you a long, sweet kiss, pulling away with a playful nip before holding himself up. He rests his hands on Alejandro’s shoulders to give himself the leverage that he wants.
“Feels so good,” you moan, undulating your hips just enough that they both pull out and sink back in. “C’mon, need it.”
Alejandro laughs, burying his face in your neck and wrapping his arms around you. “Be patient, amor, he’s gonna give it to you.”
You try to shoot Rudy your best you better look, but it’s probably a little dulled by the man sucking hickies into your neck.
Rudy fucks you deep. On each thrust he pulls out nearly the entire way, and each time he pushes back in he nearly hits your cervix. He’s not slow, but he’s not fucking you like an animal either. He feels perfect inside of you, sliding along that spot inside of you and bumping your clit every time he bottoms out.
The two of you moan loudly as he fucks you, Alejandro grunting at the sensations he’s getting, the way you clench down on him like you never want him to leave. You blink wet eyes open, glancing over to see what the others are up to on the other side of the bed.
You see Gaz with Price’s dick in his mouth - not sucking, just warming him - and Ghost jacking a very wiggly Soap off. They’re all staring at the show you’re putting on, all a little red in the cheeks with heavier breaths.
Price meets your eyes first. “You making them feel good, pet?”
You nod as much as you can manage, breath hitching when you try to answer.
“She’s unimaginable,” Rudy pants from above you, hips working just a bit quicker as he nears the edge. “Tight like you wouldn’t believe.”
Alejandro laughs at that, one hand slipping down your stomach to explore the soaked folds of your cunt. “Won’t be once we’re done with her.”
You moan when he finds your clit, rubbinb you in fast and rhythmic little circles that drag you right to the edge.
“Don’t leave her so loose we can’t have any fun,” Ghost gruffs, nearly drowned out by the moans and slick slapping sounds filling the room.
“Not-” Rudy starts, then stops to catch his breath as he starts to really fuck you, thrusts hard and pounding. “Not selfish, h-hermano.”
There’s a small laugh at that, but you don’t know who it’s from. You’re too focused on arching your back as much as you can, clenching down hard on the cock still stuffing your ass but not doing a thing, the way Alejandro’s fingers are driving you insane with their perfect little motions, and the way Rudy’s hitting every perfect spot inside of you.
“Gonna- gonne come, please, feels so good!” You gasp, moaning and letting your head roll back onto Alejandro’s shoulder, hips moving in a desperate attempt to push yourself off that cliff. Your hands come back to grip Alejandro’s head, and he presses kisses to your shoulder.
Finally, finally, you manage to reach that peak. You moan loudly as your thrown into an orgasm, body going completely limp between the two men, cunt clenching along with the waves of pleasure and milking both of them.
Rudy comes just after you, your inner muscle’s massage triggering his own orgasm. He buries himself to the hilt inside of you when he does, maoning and panting against your skin.
“Fuck,” Rudy hisses over your shoulder, working his fingers and sending both you and Rudy into overstimulation. “Feel so good clenched tight like that, amor, you feel so good for us.”
Rudy lifts his head enough to nudge at Alejandro’s head and you hear the slick sounds of making out as you ride out the rest of your orgasm. Alejandro’s fingers slow as your heartbeat does, working you down from the pleasure in a perfect way. You feel sort of like you’re being caught in a bed of feathers - a sharp fall with a soft fall, wrapped in softness and warmth when you hit the ground.
“Buena niña,” Rudy pants when he pulls apart from Alejandro. “Such a good girl, feel so good when you come around me.”
You can only whine at that, body still a little worked up with both holes filled.
Rudy fixes that problem by pulling out just a moment later, both his and your eyes glued to your hole as he does. There’s a slow dribble of cum as soon as he’s free of you, and neither of you bothers to hold back your moans.
“My turn,” Alejandro says, and you can feel the way he smirks against your neck. “You ready, cariño?”
You take a few deep breaths, let your nerves settle back into your body a bit, then nod. “Yes, want you too, Ale, want you to fuck me.”
“Good girl,” he purrs. A moment later he’s got you flipped onto your front, hands just barely catching you so you’re held up on hands and knees. He’s solid and tall behind you when you glance over your shoulder, hands planted on your hips to keep himself fully inside of you.
He cocks his head to the side a little, asking permission. Like this, you’re just a foot away from the sight of Gaz’s throat working at Price’s length, and over him you can see Soap writing in Ghost’s lap as the larger man gives his cock no mercy.
You shift your knees wider, slip down until your chest is pressed to the mattress, then nod your consent to Alejandro.
He braces you for a moment, giving your hips a quick squeeze as he shifts himself, then pulls nearly the entire way out of you. You shift on your knees a bit, whining at the anticipation, but he only shushes you, giving your hips a quick tap.
He doesn’t fuck you like Rudy had. Alejandro fucks you deep, but hardly pulls out even half-way on every thrust. It’s like he wants to be as connected to you as possible, keeping as much of himself buried in your heat as he can while still making himself feel good. The short, sharp thrusts leave you moaning on every breath, the sounds punched out of you.
“Good girl,” he moans above you, grip brusing on your hips. “Such a good cocksleeve for me, yeah? Nice and tight around my cock… clench down for me, amor, make it feel better.”
You listen to his command, moaning even louder when he feels that much larger inside of you. Clenching your rim tight around him makes the stretch burn just the slightest bit, even with all the prep you’d gotten, and you relish in the slight sting.
“Don’t foget about her,” Rudy pants from where he’s collapsed beside you, eyes glued to the way your cheeks bounce on every thrust. “She feels best when she’s coming.”
Alejandro bites out a curse, one of his hands leaving to move back to your slick folds. He tucks two fingers inside of you, drawing a loud cry from your throat, and rubs the heel of his hand against your swollen clit.
“Alejandro!” You shout, pushing yourself back on him and his hand to try and get more of the perfect sensations. “P-please, feels so good.”
“Yeah?” He leans over you, breath ghosting over your back as his thrusts get a little sloppier, a little harsher. “Feels nice, huh? Both holes stuffed full, just the way you were meant to be.”
His own words are what set him off, his dirty talk fading into a stream of moans as he stiffens buried inside of you, the hot splash of cum coating your insides. He works his palm and fingers slowly in your cunt, and you’re brought to a rolling orgasm, clenching hard on him.
Your moan is nearly pornographic, face squished against the sheets and back arched so your ass stays high in the air. He grinds his hips into your ass, getting as much of his dick inside of you as he can while you milk the cum from him.
He pulls out uncermoniously, and you can’t help but whine a little sadly at the sudden emptiness as both his cock and fingers leave you. He hushes you a bit, fingering some of his come back into your loose hole. “There you go, keep it nice and warm for me, cariño.”
“Alright,” you hear Ghost grunt from in front of you, open your eyes up just in time to see him throw Johnny off his lap and stand to make his way to the other side of the bed. “Our turn now, fuck off.”
Rudy and Alejandro both laugh good-naturedly, shifting to take their places beside Price and Gaz. You see the two of them cuddle up together, their slick cocks resting by one another. Gaz has shifted to nursing Price’s balls as he smokes a cigar, blowing the smoke straight up to the ceiling.
“Head up, c’mon,” Ghost grunts as he shifts onto the bed in front of you, resting on his knees and holding his dick straight out as you push yourself up. “Johnny, you can have at her cunt. Don’t come before I do.”
“Yes, Sir,” Soap says, and you just barely have time to brace yourself for the rough fucking you know is coming when Johnny rams himself balls-deep inside of you. You both moan loudly at the feeling, and you fall back down to your elbows.
Ghost doesn’t bother telling you to sit up again, instead just grabs you by the hair and pulls up until he can slip himself into your mouth. With the way Soap is pounding you, you’re forced to nearly deepthroat him as soon as your lips close.
You gag immediately, scrambling up onto your hands to try and save your poor throat. It’s almost impossible to think past the way that Soap uses your slick hole, the pounding making stars appear across your vision.
Ghost laughs at you when tears start to leak down your cheeks, one hand coming to pat you just a little harshly on the cheek as you’re fucked back and forth on his dick.
“Don’t even need to do anything, do I?” He hums, the hand on your face moving lower to wrap around your throat, making it feel even more like you’re choking. “Doing good, Johnny, you’re practically fucking her mouth for me.”
Johnny’s far past the point of words, only managing to moan as he huncehs over your back, lips tracing patterns across your shoulder blades and leaving trails of spit.
“Yeah, good boy. You’re a good girl too, sweetheart,” Ghost praises, using the hand on your head to brush the hair away from your face. You look up just in time to catch the smile on his face as he stares down at you. “Such a good cock sucker. Why don’t you use your tongue a little, c’mon. Don’t make Johnny do all the work now.”
It’s hard to work past the pistoning into your cunt, but you manage to listen to Ghost, licking up the underside of his length as best you can while being fucked raw. Johnny’s pace never falters, and you have no idea how he manages to keep himself from flying over the edge.
You trace the vein on the underside of Ghost’s dick with your tongue, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking to try and make him feel good. You can’t do much to move your head - the palm holding the back of your skull leaves that in his hands - so you try to focus your efforts on what you can do.
The gagging sounds are constant. The way Soap is fucking you, you can’t hold your balance properly, and you end up choking on nearly every thrust.
At some point, Johnny reaches the end of his rope. “Ghost, please, need to come, have to, ‘m so close, please….”
Ghost chuckles, a deep and mean sound. “Can’t hold it?”
A whine from Johnny, and you feel him shake his head against your back.
“Hm. Well, that’s too bad. Both me and our girl here are gettin’ off before you. Why don’t the two of you work on makin’ that happen.”
It takes you a moment to understand what he means, but when Johnny’s fingers start to work frantically at your oversensitive clit, you understand. Your eyes roll back in your head at the pleasure, and it’s all you can do to keep from going completely limp and suffocating on Ghost’s dick.
“There you go,” he moans, thrusting a little further into your mouth. “Feels good when you moan, sweetheart. Make her do it again, Johnny.”
And he does. You’re trapped in the animalistic fucking from Soap, your poor hole feeling stretched out and used, and you’re unable to escape the relentless pleasure shooting from your clit to your brain.
Both you and Johnny are thankful that it doesn’t take Ghost long at all to come. Once you’re moaning and choking on every thrust, it only takes a few seconds for him to be spurting come down your throat.
He pulls your mouth off of him, holding you back so that he can jack some of the come onto your face. He works his fat cock roughly, and you can’t help but stare at him as he gets himself off. He’s mean to himself, and somehow that’s what gives you the last push you need to clench down hard around Soap.
This orgasm is almost painful. Johnny doesn’t let up on you at all, keeps hammering his cock into you, keeps rubbing just past the line of too-harshly, and it leaves you crying out. You collapse back down to the bed when Ghost lets you, face smearing cum into the sheets. You feel like every nerve is on fire - your clit especially - and you instinctually start to writhe away from the source of it all, from Johnny.
You hear Price laugh from the side. “Ease up on her, Johnny, you’ve got the poor thing running away from you.”
Johnny whines over your shoulder, digging his teeth into your skin and sucking. Your eyes roll back in your head as you’re forced into an even steeper arch, his cock bullying another inch inside of you.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Ghost grunts, and you feel Johnny pulled off of you. One second you’re receiving a fucking like you never have before, the next you’re left empty and open, legs still spread wide. You can’t help but whine a little, blinking teary eyes open.
Soap is begging from behind you. “No, no, no, L.t., please, I was so close, I can’t fuckin’… please, feel like I’m gonna die-!”
Ghost scoffs and you hear what you might think is a slap. You’re too focused on watching the way Price shifts Gaz off of his cock and up, then moves him like a doll so he’s leaning back agains the headboard and sitting up properly to look over your shoulder at Ghost and Soap.
“You’re gonna die, really Johnny? Stop throwing a tantrum or you really won’t get to come in our girl tonight.”
“No, sorry, sorry, I’ll be good, promise.”
“Then shut up and wait for your command.”
“Yes, sir.”
While the two of them argue, Price leans over to scoop you up by the armpits, wearing a sweet smile. He settles you on Gaz’s lap, knees bracketing his hips, then presses a dry kiss to your forehead. You wrap your arms around Kyle’s neck, leaning forward to nuzzle him as Price gives him the same treatment. His shaft rests perfectly against your cunt, head just poking at your hole.
“Bring him over here, Simon,” Price orders, stroking both of his hands over you and Gaz’s heads. As Johnny settles behind you he slips a hand down to your neck, forcing you to rest your face against Gaz’s throat and arch your back.
Price stays with the three of you still, using one hand to steady Gaz’s cock and the other to shift your hips, helping you to sink down over it. You both moan into each other’s skin, and you feel a little drool slip from your lips.
“Good, there you go,” Price soothes, petting your thigh and down to Kyle’s once you’re fully seated. “Now, stretch her out a little more to take you, Johnny. Don’t be too quick - I still haven’t had my turn.”
Price stays another minute or so to help you get used to riding Gaz, guiding you up and down in a slow, but filling motion. Gaz is just as overwhelmed with pleasure as you are, gasping and moaning against your shoulder.
Once Price leaves, you feel a finger trace around Kyle’s cock. You jerk forward with a little whine, eyes flying open to meet Price’s where he’s settled against the headboard.
“Just relax,” he soothes as Ghost settles next to him. “Let Johnny fuck you, yeah? You know he’ll make it feel good. Poor lad just wants to come.”
Johnny whines at that, almost an agreement, and you nod a little, canting your hips further back so he’s got more room to work.
The first finger has you moaning, head thrown back at the stretch. He uses the cum and lube from your ass to slick your passage, making the sound of Kyle fucking you even wetter.
Each finger he adds feels like it’ll split you down the middle. Johnny doesn’t rush you but he does move just a bit faster than you might’ve asked - not so fast that you safeword, but enough for you to notice the stretch. Each addition makes you moan, burying your face a little further into the safety of Gaz’s neck.
Gaz himself is moaning on every thrust. The two of you work together, him helping lift you up so you can fuck yourself properly on him. You can feel him sucking hickies into your neck, and the soft throbbing offers a nice distraction from the pleasure wreaking havoc on your body.
Finally, Johnny deems you stretched enough.
“Go slowly,” Ghost warns as Johnny lines himself up with you. Kyle settles you so you rest on his thighs and he’s buried to the hilt, Johnny’s head pushing lightly at your rim. “You hurt her, I hurt you.”
“I know,” Johnny grunts, sinking his teeth into the shoulder Gaz hasn’t claimed. He starts to force his way into your dripping hole, and the three of you groan in unison.
You’ve never been so stretched in your life - as Johnny slowly sinks in you’re nearly convinced you’ll tear. The pressure alone is almost better than anything you’ve ever felt, and you can’t stop the continuous stream of whines and moans as Johnny inches further and further inside of you.
Gaz and Soap are just as far gone as you, both of them grunting and moaning.
“Fuck,” Gaz pants, fingers massaging your hip to keep himself still. “Can feel you, Johnny, you’re so warm.”
“Of-of course you can feel me,” Johnny says, letting go of your shoulder to lick around the area he’d been abusing. “We’re fucking the same hole, mate.”
You bark out a laugh at that, but it quickly turns into a draw out moan when Johnny buries himself inside of you.
“Let us know when you’re alright,” Gaz says into your ear, voice heavy with need. “We can wait for you.”
It takes what feels like an eternity for you to adjust to the stretch. You rest yourself fully on Gaz’s shoulders, giving him your weight so you can just sit on their cocks. You take deep breaths to try and soothe the growing ache and get as used to the stretch as you can.
It must be several minutes later when you finally nod. “Go ahead,” you breathe. “I’m good, I can take it.”
Johnny laughs in your ear, the sound a little choked. “Attagirl.”
They find a pace that works quickly, Soap thrusting in as Gaz pulls out. The rhythm leaves you constantly filled, one of them always as deep as they can get. It also leaves them both in shambles, the rubbing of the other’s cock combined with your wet heat sending them into space.
None of you are capable of speech, just sounds pressed into each other’s skin. You think maybe Kyle and Johnny lock lips for a bit, but it’s hard to tell past the sounds of your coupling. You certainly don’t have the strength to do anything but lay there and take them into your body.
The way they work you over, one of them is always pressing against your g-spot. The constant stimulation leaves you whining. You feel like you might die, might just burn up into a thousand embers. Every inch of you feels overexposed, flayed open, and your cunt throbs.
You don’t need any pressure to your clit this time. Just the stretch of two cocks at once is more than enoug. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave - you can feel it growing, know it’s going to be catastrophic, and when it hits you feel dragged under
Neither Soap or Gaz let up as you reach your peak. In fact they only get more vigorous, losing their rhythm as they start to focus on just getting themselves off. You yelp when they bottom out at once, one of them managing to poke at your cervix, and the insticutal muscle spasm has both of them moaning.
Johnny comes first, panting and gnawing at your shoulder as he bucks his hips into yours. You’re convinced there must be red spots on your ass from how hard he thrusts into you, but even that slight pain just makes everything feel better.
Gaz’s orgasm is triggered by Johnny’s - feeling you clench down so perfectly on him, feeling Soap’s cock twitch and throb right next to his, it’s all too much. They’re both thrown off of that cliff edge, moaning into your skin.
By the time it’s over and you’ve all cooled down, the three of you are left just a limp pile of limbs, unable to do anything but be.
Price is the one who finally untangles you all. He grabs you by your elbows, drawing you away from Gaz and into his arms. You can’t help but wince and cry out when both Johnny and Kyle slip out of you at the same time, your hole fluttering around nothing.
“I know, I know,” Price soothes, laying you on your back. “You’re ok, deep breaths for me now. That’s good, doll, just like that.”
He hovers above you, stroking up and down your ribs while you slowly float back into your skin. When you finally manage to look up at him, he’s wearing a look of such pride that you can’t help but cry a little more.
He coos, swiping away your tears. “Pretty girl, you’re alright. Just one more, and then you’re done.”
You nod. “Want- want to make you feel good too,” you sniffle a bit, leaning further into his hand. “Can’t come again though, won’t feel good.”
“You don’t want any more orgasms?” His tone is a little condescening, but you just shake your head. “That’s alright, honey, you don’t need to get off. Just gotta lay nice and still for me, you can do that, can’t you?”
You nod as he tucks your legs up, pushing your thighs back until your knees rest by your head. The stretch is hardly noticeable with every other sensation wracking your body.
You feel his fingers pet around your pussy, whine when he glances over your clit.
“I’d hoped to have my turn with this little hole,” he hums, tucking a few fingers inside of you and rubbing. You hardly feel them at all. “But it’s too stretched out for me. Bet I wouldn’t feel a thing if I tried to fuck you here, huh?”
You whine sadly at that, burying your face in your calf.
“That’s alright. I know needy girls have to be stretched like that sometimes, it’s not your fault, pet. Just means I’ll have to use your other hole - good thing you have two, hm?”
He doesn’t give you any more prep, just rubs himself a few times and thrusts into your asshole in one long movement.
You’re so fucked out, it’s hard to keep track of his words after that. You can feel them rumbling through your thighs when he leans down to pepper kisses across your face, but they’re unintelligible. All you can focus on are the long, slow thrusts into you. Price drops nearly his full weight into you on every thrust, but each movement feels glacial.
He’s big enough to stretch you out a bit, to make sure you still feel the slight sting of something too big being where it’s not meant to be. It’s not enough to get you off, but the heavy weight and motions still feel heavenly inside you.
Eventually he comes - you’re not sure how long it’s been or what it is that gets him there, but you feel him jerk to a stop, then feel his come spreading inside of you. It’s a nice feeling, and you smile as you let your eyes drift shut.
“Thank you,” you hear him whisper, his whiskers brushing over your cheeks. “Thank you, sweet girl. Felt so good for me.”
Things exist in snippets past that.
Someone pulls you up to their chest (you open your eyes long enough to recongize Alejandro, go back to snoozing right after), someone wipes a cloth softly over both of your holes and shushes your whine (you think you see Ghost walking from the en-suite to the bed), someone lays their weight across your back (you feel Soap’s mohawk brush your arm), another over your legs.
You fall asleep like that, dogpiled in bed with your favorite men, all of you drained and sated. You can’t think of a more perfect way to spend a night.
#this one is only so long because it takes a WHILE to write penetration with 6 different dicks#wish me luck in these tags my god#kinktober day 17#kinktober#kinktober 2023#cod fanfic#call of duty fanfic#soap x gaz x ghost x price x rudy x alejandro x reader#john “soap” mactavish x kyle “gaz” garrick x simon “ghost” riley x john price x rodolfo parra x alejandro vargas#poly 141 x reader#alerudy x reader#yeah? we good?#poly 141 x alerudy x reader#now we're done#bo writes
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Kinktober day 17: Henry Cavill
Lumberjack! Henry Cavill x Wife!reader
Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, Poorly written Oral (m receiving), Slight Praise kink, Slight Size kink
W.C: 653
The sound of wood being cut echoed around the tin shed. I stood in the doorway watching my husband cutting up firewood.
"Dinner's almost ready" I yelled to him, over the noise.
"I'll be inside in a minute, love" He responded. His silky british accent sent shivers down my spine.
"Okay. I'll set the table." I responded, feeling my face heat up. I could tell Henry was smirking as he watched me walk away. He knows I get all flustered when he calls me Love.
I could hear him chopping a couple more blocks of wood as I made my way inside our cozy cabin, out in the forest.
The table was set and dinner was laid out on the table.
"Could you please put some more wood on the fire, Baby" I asked him as he brought in the sack of wood and placed it near the fireplace.
"Yep. Was just about to do that." Henry grunted as he kneeled down to place more wood on the flames.
"What's for dinner, Love?" He questioned as I took his bowl.
"Shepherd's pie, Your favorite" I advised seeing his face lit up with a huge smile.
We had dinner in peace, complete with a glass of red wine and small talk.
Henry offered to do the dishes as I went for a shower.
I lay on our bed, cozy in my silk pajamas and the warm fluffy blanket.
Henry came out of the bathroom, shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist.
I inhaled, my heart stuck in my throat. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling the wetness.
"Cat got your tongue Love?" Henry asked as he saw my reaction. He was undeniably big underneath all those clothes and not just his height.
"I want you to fuck me" I whispered, without thinking twice.
"What was that love?" He smirked,
"I want you to fuck me, Henry" I stated, sounding a lot more stubborn than I thought.
"My dear girl gets all wet and turned on when she sees her man, so much bigger than her" He mocked, removing the towel from around his waist.
His huge cock sprung free. Hard and ready, I got on my knees without question and wrapped my hands around him. Spreading the precum along his cock before taking him in my mouth. Henry let out an animalistic growl while I worked my tongue around him. Taking him even further in my mouth, gagging a couple times but never once backing out.
"Fuck love. You feel so good" He moaned as he grabbed a handful of my hair and started thrusting into my mouth.
Drool seeped down my chin onto my pj's, moans escaped my lips. Finally I let him out of my mouth with a 'pop'.
Before I could comprehend what was going on, Henry picked me up and threw me on the bed, sliding my pajama shorts and panties down my legs.
"You were a good girl just now. Continuing being the good girl I taught you to be" He growled before sliding his thick cock through my folds. I didn't even have time to adjust to his size before he started thrusting in and out of me. Feeling me up so good, causing me to scream his name.
"Fuck Henry" I moaned as he worked himself in and out.
"Don't cum until I tell you to. Understand that Love?" He questioned, staring me dead in the eye. I nodded pathetically, basically begging for release. Henry started rubbing my clit with his thumb.
I felt myself coming closer to my orgasm, but just as I was about to cum, Henry pulled out of me. Leaving me feeling suddenly empty.
"Why'd you do that for Hen?!" I asked angrily. He just smirked in response. "Because the only way I'm going to let you cum is by my tongue." He replied coldly.
And that was how it ended.
NOT PROOF READ!!!
Please re blog if u do like it, I really appreciate all the support
#marvel fanfiction#dc fanfic#henry cavill x yn#henry cavill#henry cavil x reader#henry cavil x y/n#henry cavill smut#lumberjack#lumberjack au#au#henry cavill au#fanfiction#kinktober day 17
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Unfamiliar - Ch. 17: (Dis)trust
Artwork by @mmm-asbestos
☆Read Ch. 17 on AO3☆ Previous Chapter ☆ First Chapter☆
#pls reblog the art is sooo pretty#also i just decided to post on ao3 and link it since it's easier!#thx for reading luv u#metal sonic#amy rose#metamy#sth#sth fanfic#unfamiliar#ch 17
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As per the poll results...
Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets.
They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night.
Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it.
He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it.
That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all.
CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest.
Not tonight.
“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”
CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this.
“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest.
“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling.
The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-
Oh.
“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place.
CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard.
Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to.
“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time.
It was apparently enough.
5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.
“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging.
5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though.
5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them.
“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”
“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”
He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be.
As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head.
2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes.
Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka.
He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it.
He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught.
“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand.
5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”
Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”
5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”
“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect.
“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly.
Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”
5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game.
Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him.
“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.
5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing.
That got 5052 to look at him.
There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head.
“I’m not - am I in trouble?”
Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern.
It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down.
“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”
“Vod?”
“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that.
5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency.
“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?”
He shook his head no.
“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”
“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him.
“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”
The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”
Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could.
—
“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this.
Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled.
It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option.
Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession.
Fox was different. He was smarter.
He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him.
Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine.
“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again.
“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat.
“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”
Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again.
“Your flight time went up again.”
“I know.”
“You gonna do anything about it?”
Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him.
“The fuck do you care?”
Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”
Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to.
They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.
“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”
“I fucking know, okay?”
That was what he was looking for.
“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.
“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know.
“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago.
The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it.
It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him.
“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else.
“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone.
“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”
Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”
Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”
“Wha-”
“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”
Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what.
Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears.
Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting.
It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter.
“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”
Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered.
—
It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him.
They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word.
Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot.
Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.
Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it.
Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed.
Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.
Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod.
He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room.
Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place.
As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk.
Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair.
“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.
“Why did Prime have to name me?”
“Why didn’t I listen to him?”
“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”
So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.
When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke.
“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.”
Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this.
“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob.
“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.”
A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough.
“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”
Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either.
“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop.
“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”
Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”
Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared.
It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it.
Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why.
Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out.
Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.
Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.
“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”
“I know,” Seventeen murmured.
“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”
Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.
“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”
Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.
“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment.
It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives.
“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on.
“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”
Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”
“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won.
Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”
—
Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
Like now.
Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle.
Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts.
“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other.
Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare.
“Kote found him first.”
Him?
“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”
Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”
Wolffe flipped him off.
“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining.
“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest.
“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”
Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.
“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.
Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.
The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch.
Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not.
It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.
Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time.
When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.
“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in.
His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago.
He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on.
“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet.
“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”
“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”
“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two.
“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?
“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust.
Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer.
“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”
“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”
Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”
7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”
Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?
That would have to be dealt with.
Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”
7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”
“You eaten recently?”
The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”
Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”
“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”
7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.
“Rex,” he said quietly.
Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”
Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint.
“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”
Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look.
Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”
Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.
“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way.
“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex.
“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”
“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time.
“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”
“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”
That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…
“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”
Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”
Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”
Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”
Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”
Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”
Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”
Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”
Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”
Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.
The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.
“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”
“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”
The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself.
“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response.
After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”
Seventeen almost laughed. Almost.
Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug.
“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”
—
Today was the day.
His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome.
Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited.
Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after.
They all sat and waited for Ponds.
There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why.
They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats.
Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence.
An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison.
An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.
What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face.
“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried.
This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.
After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.
“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.
They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn.
Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately.
“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”
Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”
Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”
“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him.
“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”
“Oh.”
“Ori’vod-”
Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded.
He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would.
“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”
Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready.
“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso.
“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen.
“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply.
Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill.
Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.
“Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”
Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”
Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks.
As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor.
Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad.
His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge.
“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”
Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room.
“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”
“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed.
“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”
There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it.
He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up.
They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured.
Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces.
Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother.
Nearly nine years old and they still acted four.
Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further.
They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon.
Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.
—
In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw.
But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds.
Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this.
They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time.
So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.
It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them.
Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling.
The one vod that never spoke was Fox.
It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating.
“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”
Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”
There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it.
The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done.
He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again.
He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things.
They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.
It still hurt.
Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox.
It had been nearly six months since they last talked.
A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort
A-17: We should catch up
He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could.
Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.
#commander cody#commander fox#commander wolffe#commander ponds#commander bly#alpha 17#kamino#fanfic#my writing#ok so it's no specifically cody#but i figured it would fit for the occasion
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it’s floaty steddie hours
Eddie never knew there were moments that would just steal his breath and not give it back even after they passed, lingering in his mind, his heartbeat, his fingertips, making him wonder if the world is suddenly much bigger than before, or endlessly smaller, reduced only to one impossibly perfect moment.
He never knew. Until he met Steve. Steve, with his moments, with his smiles, with his kisses and laughs and gentle voice singing under his breath when he thinks Eddie isn’t listening.
But Eddie listens. He always listens.
And he basks, taking it all in as he’s sitting in the back of his van somewhere at the foot of Weathertop, leaning against the side wall.
There is a steady pitter-patter of heavy summer rain against the roof of the van, a breeze of fresh air coming in through the open doors that occasionally leaves goose bumps along his arms and brings with it the smell of rain and drenched soil, of blooming fields and trees and life, mixing with their own little bubble of life and love and tobacco.
Eddie wants to catch that smell, that sound, that feeling in a mason jar like Steve told him he used to dream as a kid. Maybe he will. He knows there’s one in the driver’s side door for this very purpose.
It would be a good forever-moment, with Steve lying in the back of his van, illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights Eddie installed for him the other week with a hearty but ultimately fake grumble. The warm light dances along his skin, making it look even more golden than usual, complementing the galaxy of moles that is imprinted and immortalised on his skin.
And Eddie watches. He always watches.
Golden light that makes even his dimples shine as he smiles, eyes closed as he’s singing along to the third mixtape of the night. Space Age Love Song, which Eddie pretends to hate. But how could he hate it when it makes Steve look like that? When it thus steals Eddie’s breath, his heart, his sanity?
And then, for a moment, for one perfect, drawn-out moment, all Eddie Munson can do anymore is watch. And listen. And feel. Because what he sees and hears and feels is everything.
His breath is lodged in his throat as he reaches for his little sketchbook — the special one, littered with drawings and doodles and musings of Steve. His face, his hands, the constellations of his moles. The occasional DnD related sketch in there, because Steve just inspires him.
His pencil dances over the page in practiced, familiar movements as he tries to capture the moment on paper. It’s hard, though, because Steve’s nose is scrunched a little with that smile that Eddie’s not even sure Steve’s aware of, and his dimples tell a story of their own tonight. A story of contentment rather than joy or amusement. Eddie has to try and try again, never quite getting it right, this perfection, and he curses a little under his breath.
“What are you drawing?” Steve asks, turning his head and opening his eyes a little, squinting but curious.
“Nothing,” Eddie smiles, pulling the sketch closer to his chest, away from Steve’s sleepy, lazy, slow attempt to reach for it. “Go back to sleep.”
“‘M not asleep,” he sighs, rolling over onto his side, watching Eddie and reaching for his ankle — just to touch. To hold. To feel.
It makes Eddie smile. “No?”
“No,” Steve says, helpless not to smile back, and Eddie wants to kiss him. “Just… I don’t know. ‘S nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Perfect.”
Eddie discards the sketchbook and goes to lie down beside Steve, wrapping one arm around his middle, the other coming up to take Steve’s, their fingers intertwined between their faces.
“Then I think the word you’re looking for is basking.”
Steve hums again, touching his forehead to Eddie’s knuckles before brushing featherlight kisses over them. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Basking.”
Eddie’s heart is ready to beat out of his chest, make a life of its own fuelled by the perfection of this moment. Everything about it. Everything.
Outside, the rain picks up even more, a wave of cold air coming into the van that makes Steve cuddle closer to him, until their foreheads are touching. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes him in, and slowly inches forward, tilting his head to claim Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss.
They trade slow, sensual kisses for a while. Steve’s hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking whatever skin he can find, caressing his cheek, his chin, his jaw, while Eddie plays with Steve’s hair.
In the end it’s Steve who pulls back first, eyes open, just watching Eddie. Taking him in, making him feel seen rather than watched.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Answering is as easy as breathing. And just as difficult. Just as impossible. His love, his breath — they both belong to Steve, completely and entirely.
Steve, who smiles at him like being loved by Eddie Munson means something to him. Like it means everything. Like it can mean Forever. Eddie feels like he might not survive tonight it Steve continues to be so genuine, so honest, so raw, so open, so vulnerable, so pretty, so beautiful, so absolutely breathtakingly everything.
“Can I see what you were drawing?”
“You,” Eddie says, reaching behind him blindly in search for his book, too weak to refuse Steve anything he asks for. “I was drawing you.”
“You were?”
Eddie nods, feeling a heat creeping up on his cheeks.
“Sap,” Steve grins, leaning in to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek as he reaches over him for the sketchbook. “Can I?”
“Knock yourself out,” Eddie grumbles, rolling them so Steve’s lying on his back and Eddie can sprawl on top of him. Hide his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, hide the way he’s flushing, hide the absolutely obvious way he’s a goner for Steve fucking Harrington.
He hears the gasps, hears the pages being flipped, the little giggles of surprise, the hums and tiny, secret little ohs. He hears them and he holds his breath, beginning to shiver for a reason that even the cool breeze cannot compete with.
“Eddie,” Steve breathes. Doesn’t say anything else for a while. And Eddie wonders if Steve is in the same boat, in the same condition, if he has these moments, too. Moments like this. He wonders, and he hopes, and he wishes.
But Steve doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Eddie, and the music switches to Springsteen. Tougher Than the Rest. It’s always been too soft for Eddie, but right now it serves to give the word perfect a new melody.
“Dance with me,” Steve breathes.
“Hm?”
“Dance with me. Please?”
“In the rain?”
“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, tightens his hold around Eddie as if he forgot that they still had to get up and get out there.
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, lifting himself from Steve’s chest and climbing out of the car, warm rain immediately drenching his clothes. It makes him laugh, a boyish little thing that bubbles out of him as he holds out his hands to help Steve out.
Steve takes his hand, jumping out with a small giggle of his own, making for a glorious vision: happy and giddy against the golden light inside the van, his wild hair soon drenched completely, sticking to his face where he shakes his head, showing droplets of water left and right.
It doesn’t fit the song, doesn’t fit the notion of basking, but they’re both laughing and breathless, clinging to each other in the moonlit night somewhere at the foot of weathertop, far away from everyone else that they might just be the only two people left in the world. Two silly boys, giddy and breathless and stupidly in love.
It makes Eddie pause. Swallow. It makes his heart go wild as he stills.
“What?” Steve asks, stilling as well, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was coming, if someone’s watching them.
Eddie pulls him closer, makes Steve meet his eyes again as he rests his hands around his neck. “Dance with me.”
A smile spreads Steve’s lips, breaking through all of Eddie’s walls to let the light in — even in the middle of the night. “Okay,” he breathes.
And if you’re brave enough for love, // Honey, I’m tougher than the rest.
The sound of rain isn’t loud enough to drown out the music, but still Eddie can barely hear it over the sound of his own heart. Over the sound of I love you, I love you, I love you. Over the sound of Is this forever? Can this be forever?
They slow dance to Springsteen, then to Tears for Fears, and eventually to Prince. They dance until Steve begins to shiver in his arms, until the rain has drenched them so completely that none of the day’s heat is left in the air and the breeze is getting uncomfortable. And then, they dance a little longer, because Steve is capturing Eddie’s lips again, slow and unhurried and like he means it. Like he means it all.
“One day,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips. “One day I’m going to marry you. I’ll find a way.”
And it’s Eddie this time who gasps, who falls into Steve because his knees are giving out. It’s Eddie who’s lost for words.
But he doesn’t need words, because Steve is kissing him again, holding him up, holding him, holding his heart and his life and his future in hands so gentle and sure that Eddie wants to fall apart, just a little bit.
“Not if I marry you first,” he says eventually, brushing one last bruising kiss to Steve’s lips before pulling back and climbing into the van, dripping as he is.
Steve, laughing and giggling, follows immediately after him, pulling off his clothes in a hurry to get under the blanket. Eddie watches him with a leer — at least until Steve kicks him in the side and tells him to get out of these clothes and come under the blanket to warm up.
“If you wanted to get me naked, you could’a just said so, Harrington. Didn’t have to propose first.”
Steve grins, helpless against it, blushing a little and hiding his face in the blanket even as he reaches for Eddie to come closer.
But Eddie doesn’t, and awkwardly climbs over Steve to reach for the driver’s side door.
“What are you—“
Steve shuts up when Eddie retrieves the mason jar, his mouth clicking shut adorably, making Eddie grin, vulnerable and nervous and raw as he feels.
“Told myself I’d capture a perfect moment for you. What do you think, does it qualify?”
Steve swallows. Nods. Reaches for Eddie once more, who shuffles closer until Steve can test his head on his shoulder.
“Can’t believe you remembered,” he murmurs, trailing his index finger along the lid.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Eddie grins, making Steve laugh. Alleviating the moment, but not dislodging it. “So?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “It’s perfect. I’m… God, I love you so much, Eddie, shit.”
“And that’s how I’m gonna label it,” Eddie grins.
“Not One day I’m gonna marry you?”
And Eddie’s breath hitches again. He lowers the mason jar, meeting Steve’s eyes this time. He wants to ask; needs to ask. Needs to know.
“Do you mean that?” It’s whispered; he doesn’t have the strength or the bravery to be any louder.
Steve’s hands come up to his cheeks, cradling his face in the gentlest way as he holds Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie Munson,” he says, “one day I’m going to marry you. And I won’t let you marry me first.”
Between them, Eddie opens the mason jar just as Steve leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that really is nothing less than a promise. Nothing less than Forever.
happy birthday @anzelsilver i have the hugest “pls be my friend” crush on you so i decided to write you a lil thing and hope you enjoy this and the rest of your week 🫶🤍🌷
#and then they cuddle naked and. do other things hehehe#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#dio words#i am 17 minutes late for your birthday in my time zone and idk where you are but i hope you like this lil thing#it’s floaty it’s vibey it’s uhhh not as capital F fluffy as i intended but alas eddie was too in love it’s not my fault
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Steve was going to kill Jonathan.
He had to save the guy’s life first, but once he did, Jonathan was a dead man.
Skidding around the corner, eyes wild, Steve only slowed down when he could visually confirm that he had in fact, made it in time.
“Whoa, hey.” Jonathan said. startled as Steve nearly crashed into him, dropping the paper plates he was carrying to his backyard. “What’s wrong?”
“You-” Steve huffed, breath coming out in sharp bursts and man, wasn’t that a sign that he’d been slacking lately on his workouts? “You need to--”
“What’s happening?” Will interrupted, sensing trouble-- and running immediately towards it as always, El trailing behind. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Steve growled, hands on his knees, glaring up through his hair. “No, I am not okay. Jonathan won’t be either if he doesn’t go inside and stay there for at least the next twenty minutes.”
He slowly stood, his general fitness allowing him to regain his stamina quickly even if he had been neglecting it.
‘I’m sorry I ever stopped going on bi weekly runs.’
“What?” Jonathan asked, at the same time Will and El said;
“Why?”
Steve turned his attention to Will, startled to find the kid was almost taller than he was. That was a train of thought for a different day, because right now he was still focused on keeping Jonathan living and breathing.
‘The shit I do for these people.’
“You guys remember Gareth?” He said, staring pointedly at Jonathan.
Ah yes, there was the little wince he was looking for.
“Gareth?” El asked, voice soft as Will stiffened visibly besides his brother.
Steve nodded, still glaring Jonathan down. “You know, Gareth. Skipped a grade, Brown hair, part of the Hellfire club, got his ass kicked by Carver’s asshole buddies because he’s super close to Eddie?”
“Steve--” Will started, staring at him and not at his brother's hunched shoulders, the very first sign of guilt in a Byers.
(Among many other things, but Steve knew Jonathan better than he knew Will, and those?
Those were guilty shoulders.)
“Your brother,” Steve interrupted, making sure the sheer annoyance in his tone came through, “--decided to have a talk with Gareth.”
He put his hands on his hips, doing his best to communicate ‘you done fucked up’ with his own face. “Eddie found out and is on a rampage.”
A fact he had been alerted to by Gareth himself, after the poor kid had called him from Eddie’s shiny new government supplied house, begging Steve to stop Eddie before he made the situation worse than it already was.
(Considering Eddie’s paranoia and general protectiveness was still ramped up to a hundred even now, six months after all the Vecna bullshit, Steve didn’t blame Gareth for calling it like it was.
Eddie absolutely would make things worse.)
There was a very long pause, in which Steve got a front row seat to several different Byers expressions.
First was confusion, followed quickly by realization, and then the slow dawning of horror as Will cued in to exactly what his brother had done.
Meanwhile; Jonathan’s hunched, guilty form took on the look of something a bit more pinched.
Like a soccer player who had clocked that the ball was in the air, hurtling dead towards his face, and all he could do was stand there and take the hit.
“Oh.” El said, her head tilted comically, correctly reading her brothers faces. “Gareth is the boy Will has a crush on.”
She turned to peer Jonathan, Will’s face managing to somehow go redder at his sister's words.
“The talk Jonathan gave him was like Jim’s talk to Mike.”
Implied: That talk broke the two of them up.
Implied: Said talk was now firmly rooted in El’s head as a bad thing.
Implied: Jonathan was screwed.
“That’s not good.” She finished calmly, as Will whipped around to confront his brother.
“What the hell!?” He shrieked, voice cracking right in the middle as Jonathan raised his hands defensively.
“Look, you’ve been through a lot, and-” He started, only to be immediately interrupted by a furious;
“That’s not an excuse!”
Will advanced on him, sticking a pointed finger in Jonathan’s face, a whole tirade of words pouring out of his mouth. “I can’t-I can’t believe you! I told you about Gareth in confidence! You told me I could tell you anything, Jonathan!”
Steve raised an eyebrow, impressed to find that baby-Byers could actually be intimidating when he wanted to be.
He was pretty sure it was the height.
“Scream about it later, get inside now please.” Steve said, trying to cut Will’s attempt on Jonathan’s life off.
Personally he didn’t care if the guy’s own brother murdered him, he just didn’t need Eddie to catch a charge.
Again.
The very thought coincided with their time ending, as a furious screech of wheel’s and muffled metal roared into the Byer’s driveway. The car wasn’t even off by the time Steve heard the door slam, Eddie’s stomping footsteps loud enough for Steve to track him as he came around to the backyard.
“Hey, El?” He said, as he turned to face down his furious boyfriend. “Tell Will I’m on his side for this one, would you?”
El nodded politely, a smile overtaking her face as she watched Steve match Eddie’s stride, aiming to head his boyfriend off.
Kid probably knew what he was going to do before he did it, the little shit.
“Get out of my way, Steve-!” Eddie bit out, stopping only so he could point to where he wanted Steve to move to.
Sadly for him, Steve had a different plan.
Instead of slowing down, he simply bent at the knees, wrapping his arms around the back of Eddie’s thighs and putting his shoulder firmly in Eddie’s torso. He had to withhold a grunt to do it, the step- to kneel-to carry was not as smooth as it used to be when Steve was in proper shape and throwing girls around like footballs, but he managed to get Eddie over his shoulder anyway.
“Hey!” His boyfriend squawked, as Steve smoothly continued walking, right back out of the Byer’s backyard, Eddie hanging over his shoulder.
“Steven Reginald Harrington, put me down right now!” Eddie shrieked, the words only slightly tangled with Will’s own;
“You’re DEAD Jonathan!”
(and Els’ gentle laugh, of course.)
#Anytime I ship Gary with Will I just make Will the secret oldest#because thats hilarious#and Gary the youngest#for equal hilarity#do it right and they're only about a little more than a year apart#but let's just say at the time theyre like 16/17 ish#wardrum#steddie#gareth emerson#will byres#steve harrington#eddie munson#protective older brother / older brother figures ENGAGE#jonathan byers#0o0 fanfics#Steve needs a hug#will x gareth#steve x eddie
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Fell down the rabbithole of The Season by Linnetagain recently, and the latest chapter has me by the throat. Had to doodle this scene.
Hestia, babygirl, they can't even kiss and you're calling them out harder than Karlach did Astarion 2 chapters ago.
Details below the cut (Karlach doing a spit take and Astarion having an exestential crisis mostly)
Also kitchen is from unsplash
#Bloodweave#The Season#Linnetagain#The Season Fanfic#Gale x Astarion#Astarion x Gale#Astarion Ancunin#Gale Dekarios#Karlach Cliffgate#Chapter 17 spoilers#fanfic#fanart#Karlach Stanning Hessie headcanon#It's me I'm Karlach#sitting here in the JUST KISS ALREADY gang with Karlach and Wyll
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Missed Call
Kelly Severide x reader
745 words
Written for @whumpcember, no warnings.
She woke from a dead sleep to an obnoxious alarm. Blindly smacking the top of her night stand, she searched for her clock. After two hits, the sound droned on. She finally realized that was not her alarm clock.
That was the fire alarm.
Suddenly, she registered the smell of smoke in the air. She was out of bed seconds later. Grabbing her phone and robe, she opened her bedroom door and was greeted with even more smoke.
She was thankful she didn't see any flames. She moved to the apartment door and felt the door with the back of her hand. When it was cool to the touch, she yanked it open and looked out into the hallway.
There were huge flames engulfing the hallway between her doorway and the stairs. She was trapped.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried not to panic. She closed the door and went back toward her room, away from the smoke. SItting on the floor at the foot of the bed, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it with shaky fingers.
She pulled up Kelly’s contact and pressed the call button. As it rang, it occurred to her that she probably should have called 9-1-1 first. The call rolled over to his voicemail and she prayed that it was because he was on his way here. She hung up and called 9-1-1 then explained that there was a fire and the apartment number she was trapped in.
As she waited, more and more smoke crawled under the door. Her eyes burned and she started to cough harshly.
Just as she started to feel lightheaded and short of breath the bedroom door swung open. “Y/N!”
“K-Kelly,” she coughed again. “You're here.”
He knelt down beside her. “Of course I'm here. I gotcha. Can you walk?”
She nodded and allowed him to help pull her to her feet. She coughed yet again and swayed on her feet. “Whoa. Maybe not.”
Kelly picked her up easily. He quickly made his way out of the building with her and then set her on the stretcher. She grabbed Kelly’s hand and squeezed.
Sylvie placed an oxygen mask over her face as Violet pushed her towards the ambo. Kelly walked beside them as the loaded her up.
As Kelly started to climb into the back of the ambo, he looked back and spotted Boden. Boden only nodded his acknowledgment that Kelly was riding along to the hospital.
She maintained her death grip on Kelly’s hand all the way there and on the way into the ED. He tried to let go as they pushed her into the treatment room. “No. Stay with me. Please.” Her momentary panic sent her into a coughing fit.
He ran a hand over her head. “Okay, I'm right here. Just breathe.”
Crockett came in a moment later. “How’re we doing this evening?”
She rolled her eyes as he pulled out his stethoscope. “Peachy. Just peachy.”
“Can you try to take a deep breath for me?” Crockett asked.
She obliged, managing two before a cough.
Crockett turned to April. “Can you get a chest x-ray, CBC, and a carboxyhemoglobin. Then start a neb treatment with albuterol.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “Alright, guys,” he turned back to her and Kelly, “I'm going to run some tests and I'll be back shortly.”
“Thanks,” said Kelly.
Half an hour later, she had finished the breathing treatment and was starting to feel a bit better. Crockett came back and repeated his exam.
“Everything looks okay but we are going to keep you at least until tomorrow just to make sure. Sound like a plan?”
“I mean, I would rather sleep in my own bed,” she joked. “But I think I can survive one night.”
A short while later, they had her settled into her own room and Kelly had settled into the seat beside her bed. He pulled his phone out to check messages and let everyone know how she was doing.
“I missed a call from you.”
Glancing over at him, she nodded. “Uh, yeah. I might have called you before 9-1-1. I panicked and I just wanted you to come. I'm so glad you found me.”
“I will always find you.” He kissed her forehead. “I'm just glad you're okay. I swear I about had a heart attack when I heard that address over the intercom.”
“Let's never do this again.” She laughed.
“Deal.”
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angstober (7)
Prompt: "Weakness"
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
A/n: This is a heavy one. Anywaysss love you <3
angstober masterlist here ♡
~~~
A door hinge creaked somewhere far off.
Bucky waited. He’d been waiting for hours now, hands tied behind his back, chains digging into the skin of his right wrist. He’d tried ripping them away to no avail.
Whoever had taken him had been prepared. Had known him and his weaknesses.
But it didn't matter; the second he got free, their knowledge would mean nothing. Pure fury was fueling his stay, and pure power would fuel his fight to freedom. His fight back home.
A door creaked open, dim light dusting the grime on the solid floors. Footsteps, each carefully measured, echoed as they made their way toward Bucky. It wasn’t until the shine of leather came into his view that Bucky looked up—that he gave his captor the privilege of the rage burned into his expression.
“You want something from me?” he gritted out, narrowing his eyes at the older man above him.
The man only shot up a brow. “There are several things I want from you, Sergeant Barnes.” A thick accent held his words together. “But none of which I am sure you will give lightly.”
Bucky let out a humorless chuckle. “How would you know? Haven’t even tried yet. Just left me sitting here. That your tactic? Isolation? Because I can tell you right now, I’ve waited a lot longer for a lot less.”
In hindsight, goading the man who held his mercy in his hands wasn’t the most clever move. But Bucky got mouthy when he was angry, even more so when he was sure Hydra had a hand in whatever bullshit he was currently caught up in.
Looking back, Bucky would take back his words, even if it wouldn’t have helped.
He knew they wouldn’t have helped.
The man grabbed Bucky’s chin and craned his neck harshly, putting him inches away from his face. “You will wish it was isolation. I simply needed time to procure what I needed to make you speak.”
“What do you want to know?” Bucky seethed, roughly turning his face away. He spoke his next words to the floor. “Typically you ask nicely first. Haven’t even tried that.”
“I do not have time for those theatrics.”
With a snap of his fingers, the door opened wider. Bucky heard a struggle in the hall—scuffling feet and grunts and muffled words. The man before him rolled his eyes, hooking his chin over his shoulder to watch the door.
“What, some kind of animal?” Bucky scoffed. “You’ll have to try—”
Blood ran cold. At that moment, Bucky couldn’t tell whose blood it was. Because his blood, the very same that pumped beneath his skin and warmed him, didn’t feel like his own. His body felt foreign, each limb tightening and then cramping to the point of pain.
This wasn’t his body.
He wasn’t here.
You weren’t here. You couldn’t be.
“No.” His whisper was only a breath. He hadn’t meant to speak.
Bucky flinched as a cloud clap resonated in the space, followed by a mocking laugh. “Finally something to stop your ridiculous taunts,” the man rejoiced, leaning over to hold his thighs, coming nose-to-nose with Bucky. “I would have brought her in from the start, had I known.”
Your gaze met his, and Bucky lost it—in his mind, body, being, he came undone. He pulled against the chains harder than before, letting out curse after curse at the man in front of him. He threatened death, torture, and far worse that he wouldn’t be able to follow through on.
But he would find a way.
Because your face was already bruised. Your hands were tied together at your hips and he could see the way the rope chafed at your skin. The same skin he had kissed countless times before. It was marred now, and you were in pain. He could hear your muffled sobs beneath the cloth shoved into your mouth, and Bucky promised far worse things than death.
You weren’t meant for this—to ever feel this way.
“What the fuck do you want!?” he snarled, his eyes leaving you for a singular moment to direct his rage towards the man. He found you again a second later, not wanting to leave you unguarded.
It was silly to think his eyes had any power now.
“Attitudes change so fast in the name of love, do they not?” the man posed, coming around to linger at your side.
Bucky’s chest rumbled in warning... in anger and frustration and desperation. “Tell me. I’ll give you anything you want. Let her go.”
The man seemed uninterested in his request, letting a finger track the shape of your cheek. You flinched back, running into the woman that had dragged you in.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Bucky barked out, words punctuated by chains slamming to the floor.
The hand left your face, only to move to your hair. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut with the heavy intake of your breath. Bucky mourned the loss. Mourned any time before this—before he was the reason you had been hurt.
There was no going back from this. This was his fault. You were here because of him.
Unimaginable sorrow fought for dominance in his chest, but he kept the anger burning. It was the only way he’d be able to save you.
“I find—anecdotally—that there is much less resistance in my…clients when there is a contract up front,” the man hummed. He grabbed the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin. You let out a whimper, and Bucky let out a threat coated in a surging panic. “Shall I spell it out for you, then, Sergeant Barnes?”
You were thrown to the floor, knees crashing against concrete. You cried harder and Bucky felt all the wrath he’d been kindling die out. Fear replaced it. Unbridled fear. He couldn’t get out of these chains. He pulled and tugged until he was sure the vibranium bent and his skin broke, but nothing budged.
He couldn’t save you.
“I will tell you anything you want to know,” Bucky pleaded, tone dangerously low, breath coming out in heavy pants. His eyes were glued to the way your chest heaved. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. You know that. That’s why you went after her, isn’t it?”
The man laughed again, this time a deep, soft disruption in the otherwise stagnant room. “You always were smart for a mindless drone.”
Hydra.
The label was meaningless. Everything in Bucky’s world had shifted the moment you were shoved through the door.
There was nothing left of him as you braced your bleeding hands on the same floor he sat.
When you locked gazes with him—for the last time, Bucky would later remember—it was with finality. Your eyes told him you forgave him. You shook your head like you knew some secret he wasn’t privy to, and he tracked the movement with so much fear lodged in his chest—piercing at his ribs—that it hurt to breathe.
What had you known?
What had you heard?
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
“Let her go. I’m—” Words meant nothing to this man. Bucky brought his face up to him, his broken, pleading face as he trembled beneath his next word. “Please.”
“I do love to hear you beg. But this is for me, as well, Soldat. Who doesn’t love a little torture?”
Bucky wouldn’t remember the wicked smile the man sent him after his damning words. He would only remember your scream. The panic that ruined him.
I love you, hold on. Please, hold on.
I’m so sorry, please.
Stop! Stop hurting her! I can’t—she can’t—
All spoken to unhearing ears.
His weakness had never been a physical constraint, but from then on, Bucky did not feel strong.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes reader insert#bucky barnes#angstober 2023#day 17#is this whump#sorta
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Clash Of Possession |
Dark Naruhina Fanfic
Naruhina Month 2023: Yakuza AU & Evil AU
||Available On: Wattpad • AO3||
— ☯The Heiress & The Demon Lord
— ☯Character Mood-Boards | Naruto & Hinata
Summary: In the heart of the yakuza underworld of Tokyo, the passing of Hiashi, the leader of the Hyūga clan, does more than just break Hinata's heart, but it exposes her to vulnerability.
Seizing the opportunity, the ruthless Naruto, Uzumaki clan leader, targets not only the conquest of the Hyūga clan but also wishes to claim Hinata as his most prized possession, no matter the cost.
General Tags |
☯ Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Dark Themes, Clan Rivals, Clan Leaders, Uzumaki Clan, Hyūga Clan, War, Chakra Use, Demon/Human, Dark Naruto, Obsession, Possession, Gore, Blood & Violence, Murder, Suggestive Language, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Marriage Through Dictatorship, Tragedy, Grief, Loss, Major Character Death, Japanese/Japanese Culture, NSFW Themes, Dubcon, Sexual Coercion, Dom/Sub, Smoking, Sexist Slurs, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Nhmonth, Nhmonth23. Additional Tags Inside Fic.
Chapter Index |
☯Introduction (紹介): AO3 | Wattpad
Word Count: 1k.
☯Arc 1: In The Shadow Of The Hyūga
☯Part 1 (第一部): AO3 | Wattpad
Word Count: 7.8k.
☯Part 2 (第二部): AO3 | Wattpad
Word Count: 13k.
☯Part 3 (第三部): AO3 | Wattpad
Word Count: 16.3k.
☯Part 4 (第四部): AO3 | Wattpad
Word Count: 10.5k.
☯Part 5 (第五部): Ao3 | Wattpad
Word Count: 14.6k
Support |
— (⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆)
#naruhina#naruhina fanfic#dark naruhina fanfic#nhmonth#nhmonth23#naruto#naruto uzumaki#dark naruto#hinata#hinata hyuga#hinata uzumaki#hyūga clan#uzumaki clan#yakuza au#evil au#december 4#december 17#forced marriage#dark themes#japanese aesthetic#aesthetic dividers#aesthetic symbols#wattpad#ao3#late entry#beware the tags 🔞#not for sensitive reafers#dark readers only#buckle up because this is gonna be a wild ride!!#powerful_niya
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Whumptober 2023
No. 15 “I’m fine.” | No. 17 “Leave me alone.”
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic, pre-relationship)
Setting: Post Prison/Pre Alexandria
Warnings: Animal bite, Injury, Illness, TWD Violence
“Thanks,” you muttered while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You extended the bottle out to Glenn but he shook his head.
“Try to get Daryl to drink when he gets back.” You cast him a curious look but he only smiled and shuffled forward to catch up with Maggie.
The sun was beating down violently on your little group, no reprieve from the clutches of its heat. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before. The bushes rustled to your left, but you were too weary to be afraid. You simply rolled your head toward the sound and watched Daryl emerge from the foliage. You gave him a quick once over as he fell in stride beside you but saw no injuries and also no kill to call dinner.
“You okay?” You offered the water bottle, but he pushed it back to you.
“M’fine.”
“I haven’t seen you take a single sip in two days, Daryl.” You were trying to scold but your voice only sounded dry and tired.
“You need it. Lil Asskicker needs it.” Right on cue, the baby on Carl’s back began to fuss. You glanced behind you where Sasha and Michonne were bringing up the rear. The group of walkers were still a ways back but if you stopped, it wouldn’t take them long to catch up.
Your attention was brought back to Daryl when he stumbled, hissing through his teeth before getting his balance. You said nothing but watched him carefully. He was slightly favoring his right leg. While you could see no blood, you did notice that the red rag that usually hung from his back pocket was wrapped around his shin, just above his boot.
“Daryl.” You called to him carefully when he looked up from his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He grunted in reply, and his gaze dropped again. “Are you hurt?” He grunted again. “That’s not an answer.”
“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” The archer looked over at you, one eye closed and the other squinted. “Ain’t a big deal.”
Before you could press him on it, Rick called out for everyone to stop at a bridge. It was time to handle the walkers.
It didn’t take long. Not a single person was injured and you were back on the road. Daryl was in front of you now, and you were watching him like a hawk. Other than a slight limp, he seemed okay. No better or worse than anyone else right now.
The group had stopped to rest once the scorching sun had lowered, and Daryl had disappeared to hunt. With a nod to Carol, you ducked away past the bushes to join him. You weren’t great at tracking but he hadn’t been gone long and you had learned a thing or two from him.
It didn’t take you long to spot him. There was a small cabin that looked like it had been abandoned since before the dead rose. Daryl was standing next to a tree close to the structure, leaning his shoulder against it. You smiled, and quickened your pace until you noticed his crossbow was on the ground at his feet. His right boot wasn’t touching the ground, and he was bent at the waist with his eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched.
“Daryl?” You called out but he didn’t respond. He was sweating and pale, and as you neared, the smell of sick lingered in the air. “Hey, are you okay?” You placed your hand on his bicep once you were close enough. The archer reacted violently, catching your wrist and slamming your back against the tree with his hunting knife at your throat. Had he really not heard you approaching? His breaths came hard and fast. Those pretty blue eyes of his were filled with pain and anger. “It’s me, Daryl.”
You watched recognition set in, and he released you with a huff. “The hell ya followin’ me fer?” You let your gaze follow him as he replaced his knife and reached for the crossbow. On the ground, near the weapon, was a puddle of vomit. Your eyes narrowed.
“Daryl, what’s wrong with you?” You pushed away from the tree and jogged to cut him off. “Really.”
“Leave me ‘lone!” He made to go around you, but you moved to stay in his path.
“You sick?” He tried the other way with the same results. “Hurt?” He growled deep in his throat, closing his eyes in what appeared to be restraint. You weren’t sure that was really the case.
“Jus’ lay off, would ya?” He snapped harshly. You reeled, face contorting in anger, but just as you opened your mouth, Daryl’s eyes widened. He listed to the side, crashing hard onto his left knee and began to retch violently. With nothing in his stomach, he only managed to bring up a small amount of bile throughout the ordeal.
“Daryl!” You grabbed hold of his shoulders just in time to stop him from keeling over into the mess. Falling back onto your ass, you managed to pull the man up against your stomach. He was panting with his eyes screwed shut. “Daryl, what’s going on? The truth.”
It took a moment but the archer finally managed to open one eye and seemed to study you before you felt him simply deflate in your hold. “Snake bit.” You quickly glanced at that old rag around his lower leg.
“You moron, that’s serious! You could die!” Your hand connected roughly with the front of his shoulder but then held him fast where he was when he tried to struggle away.
“Ain’t gon’ die. S’jus’ a copperhead.” He tried to sit up again and this time you let him. He nodded gratefully once he was shoulder to shoulder with you. “Got bit ‘fore, when I’s ‘bout 10. It won’ kill me but it’ll suck fer a day or two.”
You stared at him, not sure what you were feeling. You were angry that he had hidden this from the group, from you. You were worried that he was or would become dehydrated or the wound would be infected, both were very likely and equally as dangerous. You were sad that he would rather suffer alone than worry anyone even when he was in such a state.
“Quit starin’ at me like tha’. Told ya, I’ll be fine.”
You nodded, looking down at your boots. You had to think of something. Daryl simply couldn’t keep going like this, disappearing ‘in search of water and food’ when he really just needed a break. You glanced at him again, leaning back on his hands with his head tilted toward the sky. His expression was riddled with pain, even though he was trying not to show it. You knew better.
Over his shoulder, you saw the little cabin. It wasn’t the ideal solution but maybe one you could make work. “You cleared that yet?”
Daryl followed your gaze and shook his head. “Nah. Didn’ have a chance ‘fore my stomach crawled outta my throat.”
“Wait here.”
“The hell ya doin’, Y/N?”
You pulled your knife from the sheath on your thigh and marched toward the structure. “Solving a couple of problems.”
The cabin had been blessedly void of walkers. It was small but large enough to shelter your family from the sun for at least a day or two. It was easy enough to talk Rick into stopping the fruitless march toward nothing. At least the group could stay put while you took care of Daryl, under the guise of being out for the night to hunt.
He had been surprisingly pliant when you dragged him away. Finding a spot to camp for the night was simple. Far enough away for members not to venture in search of you, yet close enough to run for help if things got worse. You had taken all of the water that could be spared, leaving enough for the proper care of Judith and Carl. You hated leaving so little for the adults, but Daryl would surely die without it, closer than anyone to dehydration with the excess sweating and vomiting.
You sat next to his outstretched leg, carefully pouring the smallest amount of water over the two punctures he had finally let you take a look at. Just to the right of his shin, the wound was swollen and angry, more in thanks to the venom than to infection. If you could manage to keep it clean, you could probably avoid that.
You taped a square of gauze over the bite, thankful that you had at least that in your own bag. Keeping it covered was best for the time being. It could get air when the venom wasn’t doing a number on the archer.
You worried about tissue damage, but that was a bridge you’d have to cross when you came to it. For now, keeping him alive was the most important thing.
“Drink.” You titled the canteen against his lips, holding fast to his chin with the other hand when he tried to turn away.
“The kid—”
“Has enough. I promise. I wouldn’t have taken it if it meant she or Carl had to do without.” He seemed to accept that, parting his lips for the smallest of swallows. You wished you had more and didn’t have to be so greedy with each offering. He had taken the ibuprofen you had managed to nab out of Michonne’s bag. That should provide a bit of relief from the pain while aiding in the reduction of the inflammation. It wasn’t much but it would have to do.
“You should get some rest.” You placed your back against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him. He didn’t look very comfortable but it wasn’t unlike Daryl to sleep sitting up. Sometimes, you think he preferred it. Regardless, he was sick and in pain, so you tried to make him as comfortable as possible. “Why don’t you lay on my lap?”
Daryl opened one eye and rolled his head toward you, blinking away the sweat that burned and obstructed his vision. You thought he might argue or turn you down flat, but he instead shifted with a groan and pillowed his head on your thighs. A true testament to how horrible he was feeling.
“Better?” You questioned quietly, running your fingers through his damp hair. He hummed, his eyes once again closed. You could see the way they pinched at the outer corners and wished you could do something more for the pain. He’d been bitten while trying to find food and water for your group; trying to take care of everyone else. Always putting himself last.
There was a content sigh that brought you from your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you had begun to scratch and knead his scalp, but the way he seemed to melt against you ensured that you continued. His shallow breaths evened out and deepened after a few more moments, an indicator that he was finally giving his body the rest it so desperately needed.
He would be okay. You knew that now. But if you could offer him some comfort and peace for just one night, you’d massage his scalp until your fingers bled. Daryl, rough around the edges and tough as nails, would bend over backwards to ensure the safety of each one of you. Anyone in the group would do the same for him if he’d allow it. But he didn’t. He chose to suffer in silence until you stumbled across him and forced his hand.
But he’d allowed you into his space and trusted you enough to fall into a deep, healing sleep while you watched over him. He would be safe and cared for, and you’d make sure he knew that he could depend on this— on you — and drop his walls. He could let you in and be vulnerable.
You’d be damned if you’d take that for granted.
#whumptober2023#no.15#no.17#“i’m fine”#“leave me alone”#the walking dead#fic#animal bite#illness#injury#implied violence#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon the walking dead#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl dixon#the walking dead daryl#daryl#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl imagines#daryl TWD#twd daryl dixon
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Whumptober Day 17: Collar, Touch aversion
I’m not late, I merely ran out of time to upload this last night. I finished it yesterday it’s all good. We’re good. Perfectly fine. (<- girl who hasn’t even started on today’s yet)
Anyway I thought too hard about my theory of Dink getting empowered from Twilight’s injury and uhhhh. Yeah. Here’s this. It’s on the heavier side again.
Read on ao3
Warnings: captivity, implied torture, blood and injury, and discussion of death
———————————————————
Eight heroes stood outside of a large, dark structure, surrounded by trees that blocked out the sunlight.
The limited light cast the area into what felt like perpetual twilight, grim and dark, and Time looked up at the ruins with a tight feeling in his gut.
“I’ll bet you anything our missing hero is in there,” Legend murmured, and Time nodded, trying not to fidget with discomfort.
Something cold and dark was in the very air around them, something that made Hyrule pale, and Sky hold a little more tightly to his sword. It was dark magic, Time knew, but that only helped solidify to him that something was very wrong here.
They’d landed in the unfamiliar Hyrule a few days ago, all surprised when nobody could identify it. It had been months since they’d last gained another hero, and Time had thought for sure that eight was as large as their group was going to get.
But as they’d traveled around and spoken to people, it became clear there was another hero they hadn’t yet seen.
One who’d apparently been missing for as long as they’d been traveling together.
They had begun to search for him, and followed a sparse trail of clues to a place off the map they’d been given, and as Tine looked up at the dark ruins, he felt a heavy sense of dread settle upon him.
Are you in there, Link?
“You really think he’s here?” Hyrule asked quietly, and Time nodded.
“I do. Making it this far was extremely difficult... I would be shocked if he weren’t.”
“But remember what Rusl said?” Wild spoke up quietly. “The Hero here has been missing for months. What are the odds that we’d find him in the space of barely a week? Just like that?”
“What are the odds that any of us would ever meet in the first place?” Four countered with, and before Warriors could say whatever it was he’d opened his mouth to voice, Four plowed on. “There must be a reason. Just like everything else.”
“And I can feel a pull,” Sky said in a quiet voice. “One I’ve only felt with all of you.”
“Enough chatter, let’s go already,” Wind said impatiently, and they went inside the falling-apart structure, steps echoing off dirty floors.
They paused at the first split path and argued for a moment about whether sticking together or splitting up was best, but before Warriors and Legend could start shouting and alert whatever was here to their presence, Time decided splitting in half was the best way to search quickly. There seemed to be two main sections of the ruins anyway, and the two reluctantly agreed.
“Stay on guard,” Warriors murmured before they split, and they all nodded. You don’t have to tell me twice.
Time ended up with Sky, Wild, and Four in his group, and they trooped quietly through the vine-filled hallways, and down stairwells full of cobwebs and dirt.
The feeling of unease grew more and more heavy the deeper they went, and Time caught Sky clenching at his sword more than once. It was oddly oppressive in here, despite the plants that crept through cracks, and spiders in the corners, like a shadow was cast all over the entire structure.
It just felt... wrong.
“Wait, shh,” Wild said suddenly as they entered a particularly long hallway.
Time stopped walking, and Wild crept forward, his ears pricked. He turned towards a small grate in the floor, and crouched beside it, his face creasing as he listened. Wild motioned them over after a moment, and they all kneeled beside the tiny grate, listening intently.
The faint sound of someone talking echoed up through the floor, and Time strained his ears, trying to make out the words. He couldn’t hear anything though, but with the way Wild’s face was paling, he was fairly certain he could.
“It’s the Shadow,” Wild said after a moment, voice grim as he pressed his ear to the grate. “Something about... power, I think? Power and... enemies. Wait—”
He went quiet again, and as the minutes dragged on, his eyes widened.
“Time... I think he’s talking to the hero.”
Wild suddenly jerked back from the grate, and they all heard the agonized scream that came from below, no less horrible because of how far away it was.
Sky paled, and Time scrambled to his feet, the others right beside him.
“Look for stairs,” Time said in a short voice, and they all ran down the hallway, searching for doors.
It took them a long time to find one that led downwards, and by the time they did, the screams had stopped, along with the talking. There was no sound at all, and Time hoped desperately they weren’t too late.
They cautiously stole down the flight of stairs, moving quickly, but wary of going too fast and alerting the enemy to their presence. They were a long, spiraling set, and some stairs had crumbled, leaving gaping holes they had to sidle around.
The time it took them to go down seemed much too long, and Time guessed they were deep underground now, having gone down several floors. It was almost completely silent, and the dread tightened in his chest.
Let us not be too late, please.
The stairs spat them into a pitch black hall, the sound of water dripping somewhere nearby. They listened for any movement, but none was heard, and Four cautiously pulled out a lantern.
An old dungeon met their eyes, light glinting off of metal bars, largely rusted and bent. Nobody spoke as they stepped quietly down the hallway, and the oppressive stench of dark magic was even heavier. Time spared a thought towards Hyrule as they walked, glad he had gone with the other group.
If I’m feeling this awful, I can only imagine how bad it would be for him.
They reached a partially collapsed wall then, making it difficult to squeeze by, but they all managed, though Time had to pop off a few pieces of armor. The cell at the end of the hallway was only a bit further along, but Time froze, holding a hand out to stop the others.
Eyes were glinting at them from behind the thick bars.
“Hello?” Sky asked in a cautious voice, and Time carefully approached the cell when they received no answer, squinting through the low light. He reached the bars and peered through, and felt equal relief and horror rise in his chest.
A thin man, boy really, barely into his twenties at Time’s guess, stared at them, his face pale with dark lines etched onto his forehead. It was difficult to tell with the limited light, but Time could make out chains around both his neck and wrists, and blood, both dried and not, all over him.
“...Link?” he breathed, but the boy only closed his eyes.
“Here,” Four said quietly, him and the others having come up to Time’s side. He knelt at the lock on the door, holding some small metal rods, and a few moments later, had the door swinging open.
Time quickly took a step inside, but the boy bared his teeth in a snarl as he moved, something fierce and desperate in his eyes.
Time quickly stilled.
“Link?” he asked again, and the boy merely turned away, as much as he could with the way he was chained up.
“...Tricks are getting old,” he rasped, the same twang they’d encountered in Ordon coming through. “Could at least try somethin’ new.”
Time glanced at the others, and Sky made a helpless gesture.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Link,” Time said carefully, and the chained hero coughed out a laugh.
“That’s what they said last time. Always fake,” he rasped, and glared at Time, half-dried blood shining in the lantern light. “Not tricking me again.”
“We’re not a trick, we’re real,” Wild said sharply, moving to stand next to Time.
“You’re gettin’ way less creative,” Link rasped, eyes staring them dully. “Points for new characters... but that’s it.”
“But we’re really real, we’re here to get you out!” Sky said in disbelief.
The new Link only closed his eyes again. “Sure.”
They all looked at each other again, Time feeling helpless. He didn’t want to approach Link before he knew they were truly here to help him, but he thought they were just a trick. How could they convinced the broken hero they weren’t here to hurt him?
How many times has he extended trust to someone, and had it all been fake to react like this?
“Link, we’re here to help you,” Time tried again, extending a hand towards him. Link only bared his teeth again, and Time could see the slightly longer canines this time.
“Get away Shade,” he snapped, and Time stopped as he let out a wracking cough. “I’m not falling for it. Not again.”
“Link, is there anything we can do to convince you we’re real?” Four spoke up, and the hero stared at him.
He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Time almost wondered if he was purposely ignoring them.
“Kill me.”
Four took a step back. “What?”
“Kill me,” Link repeated, a thread of desperation leaking in to his abused voice. “The Shadow won’t, if you do then... I’ll know you’re not him.”
“But then you’ll be dead!” Sky said in horror, and Link let out a croaking laugh, that finished with a sound like a sob.
“I’m already not living.”
Four didn’t say anything, and Link looked away, his eyes closed against the lantern light.
“Old man? What now?” Wild asked in an unusually subdued voice, and Time took a deep breath, trying to ignore the metallic smell of blood that permeated the cell.
What now indeed?
“We spoke with Rusl before coming here,” Time said quietly, and the boy’s ears twitched in his direction. “And Ilia, and the mayor, and a boy named Talo and all sorts of people. Your whole village misses you, Link, they’ve been looking nonstop. The Queen has sent out countless missions, and the Resistance is working tirelessly to figure out what happened to you.”
“How... do you know all that?” Link whispered.
“Because we’re real,” Wild said as he stepped forward. “We spoke to all those people, not more than a week ago.”
“We’re other heroes like you,” Four continued, and Sky took his glove off, showing Link the triangles marked into his hand. He stared in shock. “This isn’t even all of us. We’re fighting to stop the Shadow who imprisoned you, who’s been ripping holes through time and empowering the monsters. We’re on your side.”
“We’re here to get you out,” Time finished, voice firm.
Link looked around at them all, something almost like hope in his eyes, and he swallowed, looking directly at Time.
“Tell me what Talo said.”
His voice trembled when he spoke.
“He said that if we find you, we should tell you that he expects make up days for all the sword lessons he’s missed,” Time said, and Link breathed out, closing his eyes again.
“Yeah. That’s him,” he whispered.
A weak laugh came from his throat, and Time stepped forward again, Link not stopping him. His eyes stayed closed as Time kneeled next to him, but his ears twitched as he listened to his steps.
“We’re here to get you out,” Time said softly, and placed a hand on Link’s shoulder.
Link jerked at the touch, and Time immediately removed his hand, but then Link looked up at him with tears in his eyes.
“Sorry, s-sorry it’s... it’s been...” he choked out, and Time carefully put his hand back on his shoulder, Link stiffening at the touch, but not pulling away.
Time carefully rubbed it as the others drew near, and Link swallowed, trembling slightly as they crouched beside him.
“You’re really heroes?” he whispered, and Sky nodded, a grieved look on his face.
“Every one of us.”
Four leaned closer then and studied the collar around his neck with a frown, carefully lifting the chain and studying it.
“Where’s the lock on these?” he asked in confusion.
“It’s magic,” Link rasped, seeming twice as exhausted now that he’d been convinced of their intentions. “Won’t come off.”
Sky stepped forward, a firm look on his face as he kneeled beside Link with the Master Sword in his hands.
“May I?” he asked, and Link’s eyes widened at the sword. He hesitated, then gave him a weak nod, and Sky moved into position.
Sky held the sword close to Link’s neck, Four carefully holding the chain steady, and he pulled, the Master Sword glowing and making the blood Link was coated in appear blue.
The collar suddenly lit up with runes, glowing an ugly red, and Link cried out, jerking like he’d been shocked.
“Hold him!” Sky shouted, and Time and Wild moved to hold Link’s head still while the Master Sword slowly cut through the chains. Link jerked at their touch, and let out a raspy scream as Sky cut halfway, blue sparks flying into the air.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Wild repeated as he held Link’s head, almost like he was trying to reassure himself, and Link wailed, his voice giving out partway through from the strain.
Time held him still, ignoring the blood and dirt he was doubtlessly getting all over him, and ran a hand through his hair when he let out yet another cry.
Hold on Link, you’re almost out.
The Master Sword let out a brighter glow, and the chain fell with a clank, Link falling limp and trembling in Time’s lap. The runes faded, and Sky quickly moved to his wrists and cut through those as well, though the thinner chains didn’t take nearly as long to fall to the ground.
“It’s done,” Sky panted finally, and Link let out a whimper.
“We should tell the others,” Four said quietly. “And hopefully get out of here before the Shadow comes back.”
Wild nodded and pulled out his slate, and Time and Sky began easing Link up, his face drawn with pain. Time tried not to nudge any of the vast amount of injuries covering him, but it was nearly impossible with how many there were.
Not to mention the countless scars visible through the blood, and the dark marks marring his forehead...
Time breathed out, and then picked him up, his gauntlets giving him enough strength to easily lift Link. Though, he wasn’t entirely convinced he needed them, seeing how thin Link looked.
How long has he been here?
“Let’s get you home,” Sky said quietly, and they left the cell, Wild talking quietly to Wind on his slate.
“Thank you,” Link croaked, in a voice so faint Time barely heard it. Time guided his head to his shoulder in response, feeling a sharp pang as Link flinched, and he sped his steps.
We’re getting you out, Link.
You’re safe now.
#chain meets wild? no. chain meets twilight and make it as agonizing as possible#linkeduniverse#linked universe#lu twilight#lu time#lu wild#lu Sky#lu four#linked universe fanfic#whumptober#whumptober 2023#day 17#collar#touch aversion#tw injury#tw blood#writing from the floor#this idea hit me like a truck the other day#and despite how much I struggled actually writing it I was cackling evilly most of the time#hope y’all enjoy#(fixed a few things I couldn’t get to last night also)
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F4NBOY AU M1LES ❗️
#miles morales#fanboy au#ghostpunkflower#punkflower#ghostflower#atsv miles#atsv au#atsv art#atsv fanart#atsv spiderman#my art#my au#hobie is 17 hc!#fanart#miles morales fanart#i haven’t written fanfic in months idk where to begin with this
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A Kiss a Day in May
Day 7- Butterfly Kisses
Alpha-17 & The Commander Squad
Each day this month I have a 100 word drabble featuring a different clone with a kiss prompt. Not all are romantic and they include all sorts of pairings and relationships. Feel free to offer pairing/ character suggestions for future days.
Seventeen looked over his cadets pleased to see they were in their sleep clothes and standing beside their bunks or the ladders to their bunks at attention. He dismissed them and turned toward the door.
“Uh… ‘Teen? Aren’t you gonna… do the thing?” A hopeful voice stopped him and he turned around to see them all staring at him from their bunks. Sighing deeply he stopped by each bunk to press his forehead to the cadet’s and softly flutter their lashes together earning smiles as he went. No one could ever know his secret for getting his cadets to sleep.
#a kiss a day in may#star wars#fanfic#the clone wars#tcw#sw tcw#my writing#clone troopers#fluff#alpha 17#clone cadets#commander cody#commander fox#commander wolffe#commander ponds#commander bly#commander squad#no pairing#Alpha 17 is secretly a softy
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Honesty and Mutual Feelings | Solomon X Reader | Obey Me! Nightbringer
------------------------------
! Trigger Warnings ! : mentions of alcohol intoxication and hangovers, spoilers to Lesson 17
*****
Author’s Note : After reading/playing through Lesson 17, I felt the overwhelming urge to show Solomon some much deserved love which resulted in me writing this fanfic (which will be under the cut ↓↓↓).
I did use some dialogue from Lesson 17, so please keep that in mind. Also, Reader will be written as MC. Anyway.... I hope you all enjoy! •◡•
*****
~~~~~
A bar is probably the last place a person who is already under the influence should visit.
However, that’s exactly where you found yourself.
Despite your vain attempts to prevent it from happening, Solomon had insisted that he was “not drunk” and “still had it together”, successfully pulling you inside of the establishment.
Seated next to your inebriated teacher, you both were engaged in conversation as you sipped a beverage of your choosing that he had kindly ordered for you.
Solomon was surprisingly talkative, moreso than ever, which you actually found quite pleasant.
A bit of small talk regarding a few different topics eventually lead to Solomon going into detail about his very first encounter with Asmo and how he had managed to enter into a pact with the Avatar of Lust.
Unfortunately, the mood changed shortly after that. Solomon became somewhat despondent, a gloomy expression replacing his once cheerful visage.
“You keep growing closer and closer to the brothers. And with every step you take towards them, I feel you getting farther away from me…”
“Aww Solomon, have you been lonely without me?” You teased, a smile tugging at your lips which the sorcerer immediately noticed.
“What’s that smirk for, MC? Are you amused that I seem like a jealous child?” He asked glumly.
“No, not really. But you do realize I was only gone for a day, right?”
Your lighthearted answer clearly wasn’t appreciated, as a sudden wave of irritation washed over your teacher.
“Right, sure! You were gone for a day… and then you said you wouldn’t be coming home at all, because you wanted to stay and game with everyone, that’s all!”
“No, it’s not like that. I had every intention on coming back.” You quickly retorted.
“That’s not what you said when I talked to you. Though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, right? It’s not like you prefer spending time with me instead of those brothers.” The sharpness in his voice made you unsure how to respond, not wanting to argue with the drunken man in front of you.
“I was literally on my way back to Cocytus Hall when we ran into each other before.” You tried to explain calmly but to no avail.
“And yet you were with Satan.”
“He was just making sure I got back safely.” You added which only seemed to make Solomon scowl even more.
“Oh? So I guess that requires him to hold your hand?” He spat back, catching you even more off-guard.
“Solomon… you don’t have to feel this way.”
“I don’t?” A bitter chuckle escaped from the sorcerer’s mouth. “How can I not feel this way when you’re always choosing them over me?!”
Those words caused your heart to break. Of course you cared deeply for the brothers, but Solomon was extremely important to you as well. So knowing that you had unintentionally made him feel even the tiniest bit unwanted and this upset really hit you like a ton of bricks.
“Let me ask you something. If I had to pick between them and you, who do you think I would choose?”
The tipsy sorcerer stared at you for a moment before sighing deeply, his gaze shifting downward. “You’re really asking me that now? At this point, you’re just trying to rub salt in the wound…”
“I wouldn’t choose.”
Solomon perked up a little upon hearing this, surprised by your answer.
“What?”
“Or rather, I couldn’t choose. Yes, I enjoy spending time with Lucifer and his brothers. They’ve become the family I always wanted yet never had, and I will cherish them for the rest of my life. But Solomon…”
Gently placing your hand on top of his, you looked him in the eyes. “I cherish you, too. There honestly aren’t enough words to describe just how much you truly mean to me. You have helped me through countless obstacles, protected me on numerous occasions, taught me so many valuable lessons. I will never be able to repay you for everything that you have done and continue to do for me. And I am so sorry if it ever seemed like I was pushing you aside, because I never meant to make you feel that way. I would never do that to you. I love spending time with you and plan on staying by your side for as long as you’ll allow me to. So please… please know that you are irreplaceable to me and that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I promise.”
Silence filled the air between you two as the white haired man seemed to mull over your words, sighing once again after a few minutes had passed.
“Sorry, don’t get the wrong idea, MC…. I’ve just gotten so used to having you around lately, so when I find myself alone for a bit I get a little caught up in my own head… So let’s just forget tonight ever happened, okay? You’ll do that for me, right? You’ll forget about tonight?” He asked, giving you a hopeful look.
“It’s getting late. Let’s take our time on the way home… go slow.” Your chosen response caused yet another shift in Solomon’s demeanor.
“Oh no, don’t try to change the subject. I’m not going to drop this until I hear you say you’ll forget. Actually, I have half a mind to demand that you promise it in writing right now.” He proclaimed with an intense gaze.
Raising an eyebrow at the sorcerer, you struggled to keep yourself from scoffing. “Demand?”
“Maybe I should even consider having you swear an unbreakable magic oath?” He continued, brushing off your comment.
Deciding it was best to just ignore your intoxicated teacher, you slid off the barstool and headed towards the exit.
“Whoa, wait up! MC! Come on, say you’ll forget!”
~~~~~
On the way back home, Solomon continued pestering you with a mixture of pleas and demands, all of which earned him zero response.
Even when the fog of alcohol got the better of him and you had to help the man walk, it didn’t stop him from insisting that you “forget all about tonight” as his arm hung loosely around your shoulders and his head rested against your own.
~~~~~
“I think you were right… I drank too much.”
Solomon’s admission as you laid him down in his bed caused the corners of your lips to turn upwards.
“Really? You could have fooled me.” You replied sarcastically, not wasting the opportunity to tease your teacher.
“Is that any way to speak to your master?” Solomon pouted, making you laugh slightly.
“No, I guess not. Sorry. Just get some rest, okay?”
As you turned to leave, a pair of strong arms unexpectedly wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards.
“Solomon!” You squeaked in surprise as you landed beside him, your back pressed against his body while he held you in place.
“Stay.”
That simple word was enough to make your cheeks heat up instantaneously.
“W-What?” You asked, unsure if you heard him correctly.
“I said stay. Stay here with me… you promised you would, right?”
Turning over to face your favorite sorcerer, you snaked your arms around his lower torso and nuzzled your face against his chest.
“Right.”
~~~~~
“Good morning!~”
Your cheerful greeting was met with an agonized groan.
“MC, please…. Not so loud.” Solomon whined, massaging his temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the throbbing in his head.
“Here’s some medicine. And some freshly brewed tea.”
There was no hesitation as the sorcerer popped the two pain relievers into his mouth and sipped the hot liquid.
“Oh, by the way. You need to wear your RAD uniform.”
Your statement caused the man to shoot you a questioning glance. “Okay. But why?”
“I forgot to tell you last night. Raphael is arriving today.”
~~~~~
After officially welcoming Raphael to the Devildom, Lord Diavolo granted everyone permission to go about their day as they pleased.
Before you were able to depart, a familiar voice called out to you.
“Hey, MC! Where ya goin’? Come on, we still gotta finish where we left off yesterday!” Mammon chimed, waving you over to where he and Leviathan were standing.
“We have to play at least a few dozen rounds of Devil Kart. They just installed new maps with so many more obstacles and terrains!” Levi added excitedly.
“MC is coming over? I’ll make sure to buy lots of snacks.” Beel smiled as he appeared beside his brothers.
In the midst of their one-sided conversation, you noticed Solomon exit the room.
“Actually... I have a few things I need to take care of today. But I’d love to spend time with all of you tomorrow.” You responded sheepishly.
“Tch. What’s so damn important that you can’t hang out with The Great Mammon today, huh?”
Instead of giving the Avatar of Greed an explanation, you hurried towards the door. “Sorry guys, see you tomorrow!”
“Oi!” was the only thing you heard as you ran out.
~~~~~
It didn’t take long for you to catch up with the surprised looking sorcerer.
“MC? Did something happen? I thought you’d want to spend time with the brothers.” Solomon inquired.
“Nope, everything’s fine. I told Mammon and the others that I’d hang out with them tomorrow instead.” You answered simply as you walked beside the white haired man.
“Oh? Any particular reason why?” He pressed, genuinely curious.
“Because I want to spend today with you. After all…” you trailed off for a moment before flashing a sly grin “I don’t want my hungover teacher to get lonely without me~”
Another pain-filled groan left Solomon.
“And here I thought you would let that go…” He grumbled, more to himself than anyone.
“Think again~” you replied with a giggle.
“Seriously, MC. Just forget about last night.” Solomon demanded, giving you a stern look.
“But I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” He snapped, not in the mood to deal with your playful jabs. Understandably so.
You quickly stepped in front of your teacher, forcing him to stop walking.
“Because it makes me happy knowing that I’m important to you and that you need me. And for the record... you’re extremely important to me and I need you, too.” You stated, a serious tone lacing your honest words in hopes of leaving zero room for doubt.
A look of shock was evident on the sorcerer's face as he stared at you, seemingly frozen in place for a minute.
“Well… I’m glad to hear that I can make you happy.” Solomon finally replied, shifting his gaze away from you as a crimson blush spread across his features.
You both continued on your way after you returned back to his side.
“Plus…” taking his hand in your own, you smiled at him. “I think it’s cute when you get all jealous and possessive.”
Before he could react to your comment, you leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
After a few moments, he spoke once again.
“I believe you owe me many more kisses. You know, to make up for all the teasing I’ve had to endure since last night.” Solomon smiled, earning a laugh from you.
“Well then, let’s hurry home so I can start paying off my debt.”
~~~~~
Thank you for reading 💙
#Lesson 17 had me feeling so soft for Solomon#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me solomon#obey me nightbringer solomon#obey me fanfic#obey me reader insert#obey me mc#obey me solomon imagine#obey me solomon fanfic#obey me solomon x reader#obey me solomon x mc#solomon x mc#solomon x reader#obey me oneshot#obey me solomon oneshot#obey me fanfiction#obey me solomon fanfiction#obey me nightbringer lesson 17 spoilers
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