#I hope I got Sommin's character right! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurypilgrim · 4 years

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‘ aw, did i hurt your wittle feelings? ’ Prompt please! ^^

Ven’fir was used to poor odds.

He was used to being on the defensive, hissing and spitting at whoever had decided to take a potshot at him this time.

He bit down the urge to curse as he moved a little too slow and the training blade caught his arm, the burning plasma scorching his skin.

With a grunt of effort, he groped for the Force and tugged, and the air shivered before one of his assailants was knocked off her feet, crashing to the floor of the training room with a grunt that sounded painful.

Sensing something coming at him from the side, he ducked low just in time to feel the buzz of another training blade pass over his head and, in a move that gained him a surprised cry from the man wielding the blade, tackled him.

Ven’fir had never been short or particularly twiggy, and he used his weight and size to his advantage as he sent them both crashing to the mats.

Force, he didn’t even have his blade.

It was lying off to the side, knocked from his hand in the first moment of the ambush, which was what this had been.

Some stuck-up prick had sent these acolytes at him, and he honestly had no idea why or even who.

He had made a lot of enemies and not many friends, and there were some out there who would see him dead or disgraced just because they didn’t like that fact that he was green.

Well, he thought grimly as he rolled with a punch to his face that made him see stars, that was fine.

He’d show them.

The next punch was coming his way and he rolled them over, using the confusion of his opponent to hand a solid headbutt that connected with a satisfying crunch. Scrambling out from the groaning acolyte who was trying to stem the slow of blood from his ruined nose, Ven’fir felt a pair of arms grab him from behind.

A stab of panic bloomed in his gut as he struggled, seeing the woman he had knocked off her feet earlier advancing on him with a sneer and her blade in her hands.

Summoning the Force, he opened his mouth to shout.

A hand closed over his face, and he thrashed, the Force dissipating under his shaky control.

With a snarl, he bit down hard.

A grunt from behind him was worth the taste of blood that filled his mouth, his sharp canine teeth puncturing deep into the soft flesh of a finger. He bit down again and felt something crunch. He heard an ear-piercing shriek and the arm holding him let go.

He wriggled out of the hold in time to throw himself to the side to avoid a scything blade, spitting blood out of his mouth as he came up in a crouch.

He was tired.

His eye was beginning to swell, and he was sure a finger was dislocated, and his breath hurt every time he breathed.

One opponent left, and she was a mean one.

She was a bruiser of a thing; all crimson tattoos and better-than-you sneer.

Her hair, once done up in an elaborate coif, was snarled ad tangled around her shoulders.

Ven’fir stretched out a hand in the direction of his blade, calling on the Force.

Her eyes widened and she surged forwards to stop him summoning his blade.

He opened his mouth and roared.

The wall of Force enhanced sound blew her off her feet and slammed her into the wall, where she stumbled and gave a grunt of pain, a spray of blood from her lips making him think he’d cracked a rib.

Ven’fir felt one knee buckle and staggered even as his blade came to his hand.

Fuck.

The woman stood again, looking very much worse for wear.

He was about to reach out for the Force again when the door opened and, in an almost comedic moment, everyone stopped.

The person in the doorway didn’t stay still for long.

The woman turned on him and raised her blade with intent to hurt when the newcomer darted forwards and, with brutal force, sank a fist into her sternum.

She crumpled, her blade falling to the floor.

How anticlimactic.

Ven’fir looked at the newcomer.

An acolyte like him, going by the hideous robes.

He was Mirialan, his white hair contrasting starkly with his green skin.

Hmm, pretty.

His eyes were wide and surprised, as though neatly dispatching a murderous acolyte hadn’t been on the agenda when he had walked in.

It probably hadn’t.

Ven’fir recognised him. Sommin, he thought his name was. A twitchy thing, but he had lasted a lot longer than most.

It was hard not to be aware of him, when the number of alien acolytes that lasted longer than a week was in the single digits.

He regarded the other acolyte warily, controlling his breathing.

“I suppose you want a thank you.” He ventured, keeping his senses keyed up in case one of the groaning acolytes decided to come at him again, or Sommin wasn’t there to help at all.

The other Sith looked baffled and uncomfortable. He kept staring at where Ven’fir’s mouth was smeared with blood.

“Uh, not necessary.” he murmured. “I… why were they attacking you?”

Ven’fir spat out another gobbet of blood, grimacing. Fury burned in his veins, his blood calling out for vengeance.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Crossing to the only acolyte conscious, the one he had headbutted having slipped into sweet release after the blow to the head Ven’fir had given him, he stood over the young man clutching his hand.

“You- you bit my fucking finger off!” the man howled, eyes bulging. Behind him, Sommin drew in an audible breath.

Ven’fir smiled, showing bloody teeth.

“Don’t be a baby,” he murmured, looming over him. “It’s hardly severed. You’ll still hold a lightsaber with that hand though.” He said sweetly, and the acolyte drew in a shuddering breath.

Ven’fir, as quick as he could, reached out and grabbed his wrist.

The acolyte started, but he held tight and placed a booted foot in the centre of his chest, forcing him back against the floor. He bent at the waist, keeping the arm taut.

“Now,” he said with a grin. “Tell me who sent you after me, or I take more fingers.”

The acolyte, face horrified, shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He assured, and Ven’fir tutted.

Behind him, Sommin made an aborted motion towards him.

“You’re not really going to-“ he started, cutting himself off. “Y-you can’t.”

Ven’fir ignored him and gripped the next finger.

Absently he noted that the ruined finger was well and truly mangled, his sharp teeth and strong bite having torn through flesh and crushed fragile bone.

And Imperials said aliens were physically inferior.

With a yank, there was a sickening crack and the acolyte wailed, the finger standing at an unnatural angle.

Sommin rushed forwards and grabbed Ven’fir’s shoulder.

He jumped, half turning and baring sharp teeth on instinct.

“Don’t touch me.” He spat, keyed up. Aware of the startled look on the other Mirialan’s face, he forced himself calmer. “Don’t sneak up on someone just out of combat, seriously.”

Sommin met his stare with huge orange eyes, his presence so tightly wound it was like brushing his mind over steel wool. It was a turmoil of feeling and emotion, but it was warm. There was a core of something light there that Ven’fir relaxed into before something sharp jabbed him in the senses and he withdrew before this strange acoloyte’s Force presence stung him again.

“Leave him alone.” Sommin warned, tone tense but firm.

Ven’fir blinked.

“He tried to kill me.” He said slowly, baffled. “I need to know on whose orders.”

Sommin looked supremely uncomfortable, but he wasn’t backing down.

“That’s torture.” He murmured, and Ven’fir didn’t get it.

“Yes?”

For a moment, the white haired Sith looked like he was floundering before he seemed to draw on some reserve of patience Ven’fir had to admit that he was impressed with.

“You’re just as bad as them, if you do this.” He said softly, and Ven’fir tilted his head.

“Yeah, probably.” He paused. “Aw, did I hurt your wittle feelings?” he mocked, annoyance sparking in his belly.

Sommin seemed to take a deep breath, and he squared his shoulders, refusing to give the reaction Ven’fir wanted.

“I won’t stop you if you continue but… you’ll only get yourself caught.” He said quietly, “And you owe me.”

Ven’fir paused.

“I didn’t need your help.” He bit out, displeased at having his actions dictated.

Sommin looked wary, but he wasn’t baking down.

That was impressive, considering Ven’fir was fairly sure he looked all kinds of awful right now.

“But you still got it.” The white-haired acolyte argued, seemingly trying not to fidget. He came off as uncomfortable simply existing in his own skin, but he shone bright in the Force and Ven’fir was impressed with his tenacity if not what he was applying it to. “You owe me.”

Ven’fir scoffed.

“And you want to waste your favour from me on this guy?” he asked incredulous.

Sommin averted his eyes but didn’t back down.

“I saved your life, and you’re not going to kill him, or you’ll be expelled.” He said quietly. “I’d say that’s only a half a favour cashed in.”

The sheer nerve of that made Ven’fir laugh so hard he had to drop the mangled hand he was holding.

He straightened and gave a startled Sommin a smile.

From how the other Mirialan looked alarmed, it wasn’t a nice one.

“You know what? Fine. You’re something else, Sommin Atlas.”

Sommin’s brow creased in concern, orange eyes widening.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, body tense.

Vne’fir shrugged, his fury dissipating in the face of amusement.

“You’re green, darling. As if I could miss you.” He teased. He cast his attention to the beaten acolyte at their feet. He crouched down and grabbed the man’s chin, forcing him to look up. He ignored the way Sommin tensed behind him.

“You owe him,” Ven’fir murmured to the terrified student. “Because I would have ruined every finger on that hand before starting on your other one. Thanks to him, you might hold a lightsaber again one day.”

Letting him go, he straightened and stepped away. His whole body ached, and his ribs were on fire, but he reached up to wrench his own finger back into place with a nasty pop. He grimaced at the stab of pain. That hurt.

He would figure out who was trying to kill him another day.

He turned to Sommin, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Ven’fir smirked, fascinated by this odd acolyte.

“Since I owe you,” he began, “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of more of me.”

Laughing at Sommin’s less than enthusiastic expression, he leaned over and pressed a bloody kiss to his cheek, feeling the other tense and almost bolt under his touch.

Backing off and leaving a smear of crimson on one tattooed cheek, Ven’fir grinned and wiped blood from the corner of his own mouth.

“Thanks for the save, darling. Lead the way.”

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #Sommin Atlas #Ven'fir #fanfiction #asks #I hope I got Sommin's character right!#I love him #OCs #Other People's OCs #mutuals OCS #Ven wasn't nice in his academy days #but sommin saved his ass #and he won't forget it #Sommin has a friend now if he likes it or not #snippets

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ask-emilz-de-philz · 4 years

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FANFICTION BY: ''You know who you are ; ))'' AU: #actorAU PAIRING: MIKHAIL x ARCHER (aka HS!AU Adult Emilio's actor and HS!AU Adukt Abel's actor) RATED SPG HAHAHAH (( no really so those under 17 y/o look at sommin else hahah))

((A/N: The moment I saw Mikhail and Archer my brain immediately made this story up. Sorry if they’re OOC or something, it’s only been a few times that Mikhail appeared and Archer only appeared once so far. It might be a lil steamy for some, but I really tried to tone it down I promise 😂))

((Milo’s here too, sorry again if he’s OOC 😅))

—-

On a shooting for a special limited edition blu-ray release, a very intense kiss scene between the couple, Emilio and Abel.

Archer softly moaned in between the kisses, “M-Mi….” he gets interrupted everytime by a very excited Mikhail, who noticed that Archer is already calling out his name, and not his character’s name. Mikhail shut his mouth by deepening the kiss and caressing his back, hands slowly inching its way lower and lower. Archer tightened his embrace. Mikhail lifted him up and put him on the table. Archer squeaked in surprise, but did not move his lips away. Archer subconsciously raised his legs and crossed them together, making Mikhail even closer than before.

Mikhail, caught up in the passion, breathily spoke while his lips were on the other man. “I love you, A–”

The director yelled, “Cut!”

The lively crew applauded and began to talk about how hot the scene was, and all that crap that Mikhail could care less about. They were too caught up in their conversation that it would take some time for them to remember the two actors who were still glued together.

The instant Mikhail heard the cue, he backed away reluctantly, grudgingly. Anyway, it was not the right situation to confess, better do it when they’re off camera, in private, as Archer and Mikhail, not as Abel and Emilio. He smirked when he noticed that Archer moved a little bit forward, as if to chase after him, but stops and blushes all the way to his ears when he realized what he’s doing. “G-good work,”

Mikhail looks down at Archer, whose gaze remained on the floor. They were still a bit out of breath, and Mikhail relished the heat. He took in Archer’s scent, the red flush on his soft cheeks, his teary eyes still glazed with desire. Mikhail shivered in arousal, licking his slightly swollen lips that were still wet.

Mikhail couldn’t resist. He carried Archer up again, with the excuse of helping him get down, and subtly kisses his neck that even Archer doubted whether it was intentional or accidental.

“Good work.” Mikhail spoke lowly beside Archer’s ear, and he enjoyed watching Archer’s cute little ears tremble from his voice.

‘So cute, so sexy. He’s like this because of me. I want to see him like this everyday.’ No one, not even Archer who was the closest in proximity to him, noticed Mikhail’s warm gaze on Archer. The people who knew Mikhail personally would hardly describe him as a good person. Just like the dragon on his body, he was known to be cold and ruthless, especially to 'pests’. However, they couldn’t deny that Mikhail was fiercely loyal, and that once he considers you one of his people, he will surely protect you.

Even so, if they saw how Mikhail looked at Archer, as if he were a man lovingly watching his cherished lover, they would probably wonder if they needed a prescription from an optometrist. Mikhail did have a few friends, people he would always protect, but none that he treated so preciously. Because Mikhail was cold. Mikhail was ruthless. Just like the dragon on his body.

Alas, the dragon found his one and only Treasure.

It would be a mistake to consider the Treasure his weakness; rather, if there was anyone thoughtless or brazen enough to harm or steal his Treasure, they would be touching upon his reverse scale.

His Treasure seemed to be a bit afraid of him, but that’s okay - everyone was. Mikhail will just have to slowly but surely creep into his heart, and by the time Archer notices that he’s in love with him, he’ll be ready with a ring.

Noticing his gaze, Archer, who had been reading the script, turned to Mikhail and asked, “What is it, Mikhail?” he said with a polite [read: nervous] smile. After that intense kiss scene from back then, Archer seemed to be more nervous around Mikhail, yet at the same time more defenseless.

Mikhail chuckled, thinking to himself, 'Ah, I’ve got a long way to go.’ but he replied without missing a beat, “Just admiring the view. It’s beautiful.”

Archer blushed and buried his face in the script. “Thanks.” He said it in such a quiet voice that if Mikhail didn’t have better hearing than the average man, he would have failed to hear the next words: “You too.”

Mikhail’s eyes wided before he laughed, which made Archer even more flustered. 'Maybe not so long after all.’

While Mikhail was busy planning how to make Archer his wife, Archer was lost in his thoughts. 'Geez, I got swept up by Mikhail’s pace again! Archer, you have got to be strong, don’t be swayed by his sweet words, his thoughtful gestures, his warm eyes, his k-kisses….. AAAAHHHHH STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM!’ Archer scolded himself for being too easily swayed.

Despite the chaos in his head, he still managed to maintain an unperturbed, gentle expression. 'Well, it’s not that I’m easy,’ Archer thought. 'It’s just that it’s hard not to love Mikhail.’ All of a sudden, he sighed as the excitement rapidly drain from him. 'Whatever, Archer. Don’t feel down, it’s just a crush. He wouldn’t like me in that way.’

——

A point in time after their marriage.

“What do you want.” Mikhail grumbled. It’s late. There were hardly any cars on the road, but Mikhail was still careful as he drove. He figured the phone call would help keep his focus, otherwise his thoughts would just go back to the man waiting for him at home.

The voice on the phone chuckled. “Why, can’t I just be a nice senior checking up on my junior? How’s the married life, Mr. Grumpy?”

Mikhail had no patience for nonsense. “If you’re calling for such a stupid reason, I really should have cut off your tongue and fed it to the pigs.”

“Oh my, how cruel! You still can’t let that incident go? Even your wife didn’t mind, how petty of you.”

That man was getting on his nerves. How could it be possible to hear his smirk through a call?

But….. hearing people refer to Archer as his wife……

“What, were you that happy I called him 'your wife’? Haha, how adorable!” Milo teased.

“Shut your trap, pretty boy. What do you really want?” Oh how he wished he could sew Milo’s mouth shut.

“Well, I’m just letting you know about that one time I visited your shooting….”

… … …

'There was such a thing?’ Mikhail didn’t even remember. He grinned, thinking of a good idea. 'Well, I should make up for that…. right?’

When he opened the door, the lights were still on. Archer was snuggled up in blankets on the sofa while reading his script. An empty cup and a pen were on the table.

Mikhail embraced his wife from behind the sofa, “Hey babe, I’m home.”

Archer jolted in surprise, taking off his headphones as he looked behind. “Mikhail! Welcome home, dear. Would you like me to heat up dinner? Or would you rather take a bath first?”

“I prefer the third choice.” Mikhail gave his wife a kiss. It was the beginning of his 'compensation’.

Archer was a bit flustered, but he was used to it. Mikhail was unexpectedly clingy, and even after getting married, he was still the same devoted and loving husband.

“You know that you’re the only one for me right?” Mikhail used his ultimate weapon: whispering lowly right beside the ears.

“Ah, hm, yes, um, you want dinner? I’ll prepare dinner!” Archer hurriedly escaped to the kitchen, wondering what got his husband riled up.

Had Archer looked back, he would have realized from the look on Mikhail’s face that the 'dinner’ would be thoroughly eaten up tonight.

The couple woke up at noon the next day. Thankfully, they both had the next few days off. It was Mikhail’s turn to cook because Archer was still in bed. It was rather difficult for him to get up due to their 'dinner’.

Archer got a call from a person he didn’t expect, but wanted to talk to.

“Good afternoon Mr. Grumpy’s little wifey~”

“Milo! Why did you say that to him?” Archer rebuked, though it could hardly be considered an angry tone.

“What? That you were jealous when a young and bold crew member was blushing and hovering around Mikhail like a high school student in love?” Milo made an effort to sound innocent, as if the culprit wasn’t him.

“I-I wasn’t even–” Archer’s cheeks flushed. He really wasn’t jealous! He even told Milo how cute that girl was around her idol, Mikhail!

“I can tell from your hoarse voice that you had a good time. Hope you liked my ve~ry special gift for you two!” from the other side of the line, someone was calling for Milo. “Well, that’s the last of my 10 minutes. Enjoy the rest of your holiday,”

Archer turned to lay on his stomach, burying his face on the pillow.

The door opened soundlessly, but Archer knew that Mikhail was there, just staring at him. Or probably his butt.

“Is food ready?” Archer asked.

“Mhm.”

“Can we eat here?”

“Mhm.” Mikhail laid on his side beside his wife.

Archer faced Mikhail with a look of curiosity, “Well, where is it?”

Mikhail opened his arms. The deadpan look on his face was obviously saying, 'Food is served. Eat well.’

Archer was stumped. This was the man he used to be afraid of? All he could do was laugh and indulge his sticky husband, moving closer to cuddle with him.

——-

(A/N: This is what I would have asked had I gotten the chance to XD I thought hard about what to ask Archer, but I ended up running out of time lol, but that’s okay bc it’s become a fuel for my fantasy) (this isn’t in a proper story format like the ones above, just saying 😂)

'NEVER HAVE I EVER treated my co-actor like I would treat their character on screen

Question for: Archer’

Archer: Hmmm, so far, never. While I and most of the people I’ve worked with get so immersed and emotionally invested in our role, I believe I do a good job of separating my emotions from my character’s. Similarly, I can separate my co-actors’ characters from their off-screen selves.

*Mikhail walks in on the set, speaking out of the camera’s view* Mikhail: Hey babe, I bought some sandwiches. You like the one with mayo or nah?

A: You don’t like mayo, right? I’ll have it. And next time, please don’t disturb the set when there’s an ongoing interview, alright dear?

*walking away already* M: Mmkay. I’ll take you home, I’ll wait for you to finish.

*turning back to the interviewer as if nothing happened* A: So yes, where was I?

Interviewer: Um, didn’t you just … .

*Archer realizes what just happened, internally screaming because oMG I WAS SO RUDE TO MIKHAIL WHAT IF HE GETS MAD AAAHHHH BUT NO WAIT WE’RE HANGING OUT ON OUR FREE TIME, AND WE’VE GOTTEN QUITE CLOSER ALREADY RIGHT?? HE WOULDN’T MIND RIGHT??? I WOULDN’T JUST WAKE UP SINKING IN THE OCEAN RIGHT?!?! TTATT* Archer: Hm, well, we’re on good terms, it just became natural. *gives his best sparkly smile to stun the interviewer and quickly escapes after some greetings*

#actor au #aaumikhail #aauarcher #planetputo #planet puto

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