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honey-dew-woo · 2 years

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Top Gun Second Gen | Chapter Six

Enjoy! <3 Also, if you're reading this please give me your opinion / comment or reply your opinion on this.

Masterlist | Chapter Five | Chapter Seven

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I groaned as I rolled over in bed, shutting my eyes tight in hopes it would stop the blaring beeping of my alarm clock. Rolling over, I noticed that the sun was beginning to rise just outside. A neon red '6:00' was read against the black screen of the clock on the night stand, as I managed to press the button allowing for silence.

Contemplating my decisions, I began to walk through the house and to the kitchen. The house was cold, and dark where the sun's rays had not yet penetrated the house windows. It was clear that Bradley was still asleep, and honestly I most likely would be too. But today was my suspension day, and I know I was supposed to take it to 'think about what I did wrong' and 'improve'.

Truth be told, I don't think I did anything wrong. Sure, violence was wrong blah blah blah, but Jake needed to be knocked down a few levels. I rubbed the remaining sleepiness from my eyes before opening the fridge to grab the bacon and eggs. I had decided to pay Bradley back for when he cooked breakfast, doing the same for him.

It wasn't long after I had finished the bacon, and was now working on the eggs, that the brunet male had woken up. I heard him stir around the house, but thought nothing of it until I had placed the eggs onto a plate. "Oooh, bacon." I heard him say, as I felt his chest against my back, his arm sliding around my side as he grabbed at the red piece of meat.

Blood rushing to my face, I chose that it would be best to focus on the plates of food before me. "Morning." I smiled, turning around before patting him on his chest, taking my plate of food and going over to the living room to sit before the television on the couch.

"So, what are your plans for your big day off?" Bradley asked, sinking himself into the large armchair. I mocked offense, pulling the fork that was once holding scrambled eggs out of my mouth, placing my hand on my chest in my mockery.

I swallowed the food in my mouth before responding. "Lieutenant Bradshaw." I gasped, "How dare you insinuate that I am taking my suspension as a day off. I'll have you know I am taking it very seriously." I insisted, before laughing as he looked at me with a 'yeah right' face.

"I'm gonna have a beach day with Penny. I called her last night. Help around the bar a little and then chill on the beach." I spoke seriously, after finishing off my breakfast. I eyed Bradley suspiciously, a grin on his face as if there was some joke I wasn't aware of. "What?"

"Oh nothing." he trailed off, finishing his breakfast and bringing the plate to the kitchen. I stood up, following him with my own plate and placing it in the sink. "Right then." He nodded at me, smiling to which I could only return.

"Alright Lieutenant Bradshaw, don't go crashing your plane without me." I grinned, cheekily.

"No ma'am, I wouldn't dream of it." He winked, walking out the door.

It wasn't long after that I followed Bradley out the door, headed to the Hard Deck bar. And after a few hours of good old stock and inventory with Penny, it was her and I on the beach. The nice crashing waves, the hot sun matched against the cool lemonade, my eyes fluttering between paperback pages, the football hurling towards my face- wait.

"What the-" I spoke, diving out of my chair, my book abandoned to the grainy sand beneath me. The brown leather ball fell behind me, as Penny looked spooked herself, clutching her book to her chest, eyes wide.

"Sorry Rebel!" I heard Hangman's voice call out. My brows furrowed, looking to the shoreline to see the Top Gun crew, and Bradley's stupidly smug grin at me. I narrowed my eyes beneath the sunglasses that ultimately hid my gaze.

"You alright there?" Maverick's voice rang out, the ball collected underneath his arm as he offered a hand to me on the floor. I swear I could see Penny staring at him out of the corner of my eyes.

I took my dad's hand, and pulled myself up from the sand. Brushing the sand off, I then crossed my arms, looking at him angrily. "You play beach football, on the one day I'm suspended?" I asked, angrily.

His grin only widened as I could stare at him with mock anger and shock. "Sorry sweetheart." My dad smiled, patting my shoulder before going back to the beach. I shook my head, pulling my forgotten about book out of the sand. Shaking the sand out, I huffed before returning to the lounge chair next to Penny.

Placing my book in front of me, I looked over the book to see my fellow pilots playing beach football. My face hidden behind my book as I smirked at Bradley, who had just scored a touchdown and was mocking Hangman after chest bumping with Payback.

Maverick had left the game a few moments before, opting to sit next on the other side of Penny. I jumped when I realized there was a shadow casting over the three of us. We all looked over to see Admiral Simpson. "Captain Mitchell."

I gulped, watching the two. "Admiral Simpson."

"Care to explain what we're doing out here on the beach?"

"You told me to make a team, Admiral. That's what I'm doing." Dad returned, staring back at his team, beer in hand.

"Lieutenant Mitchell." I jumped again, still holding my book as I looked nervously over at the Admiral, my eyes still hiding behind my sunglasses.

"Sir?" I asked.

"There a reason you're not playing with your team? And maybe why your book is upside down?" He asked, arms folded as he too, alongside dad looked out the sea.

Shit. I flipped my book over, then placed it down onto my thigh. "I'm suspended, after yesterday, Sir." I explained, also looking to view the sea and pilots playing football.

"You're suspended from flying for the day, Lieutenant. Not team bonding. Go get out there and teach one of them how to actually throw a football." Simpson mocked, before walking off.

A growing grin formed on my face, as I looked over to Penny and dad almost for approval. They both nodded, and I placed my sunglasses and book in my chair, rushing over to the pilots after kicking off my sandals.

Cheers were heard from the team as I laughed, grabbing the football from Coyote before Hondo could whistle to start the next round.

"Alright Mitchell, games on." I heard Hangman beside me as I smiled and shook my head. The whistle blew shortly after, and we were off. I sidestepped Payback, who was running at me before throwing the ball to Phoenix.

Natasha had a good run with Hangman on her tail, and I ran as fast as I could- in jean shorts, atleast- to the madeup endzone. "Phoenix!" I yelled, jumping up.

Her reflexes were fast, the ball now hurling towards me. But I was ready this time, catching the ball mid air. The whistle from Hondo signalling the score resulted in cheers, but my joy was short lived as I saw Bradley lunge towards me.

His arms connected with my waist, and I soon felt my back hit the somehow hard and wet sand. Letting out a graon as I opened my eyes, looking up at Rooster.

I could only offer a grin, as Bradley quirked an eyebrow at me. His arms on either side of me, pinning me to the ground. His biceps glistening from the sun and sweat highlighted his dog tags that dangled near my face.

Not sure if it was the beers or the moderate heat exhaustion to give me a boost of confidence, but something did. "Y'know, usually when you pin girls down like this you buy 'em a few drinks first."

He raised both of his eyebrows at this, his aviators that would usually cover whatever mischevious look he had in his eyes long abandoned. A smirk took over his place before he replied, "I think I've bought you more than enough drinks by now," he paused, as his breath caught on my face, him lowering his head closer to mine before whispering, "And usually girls who are pinned underneath me are wearing less clothes." He winked, grabbing football from my hand and jogging back to the group for another round.

I sat up, blood rushing to my face again before yelling out at him again, "Asshole!"

"You're just mad you got tackled!" Fanboy's voice rang off as I stood up.

"Come say that to my face, Fanboy!" I teased, a smile evident on my face as we all got ready to startup again. And we did that, over and over. We played the game until the sun set and Penny practically kicked us off the beach, insisting we all go home.

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(i'm doing whoever comments on the last post as a taglist, that way it's just easier [and hopefully smaller] sorry! hope you all understand<3

Taglist:

@starkleila @tynabyna @1lellykins @evans-dejong @hobbit-historian @ben-hothauser @sarahstar11 @mads-weasley @roosterismyfav @specialbrewbutterbeer @renababy-17 @n3ssm0nique @star-bink @latenightmiraclesss @theforgottenmcrmy @inkblots-and-polkadots @redpool

#bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun #maverick #top gun maverick #tg:m #hangman #phoenix #payback #fanboy #penny benjamin

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thesketchyheartist · 6 days

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04/24

Serial Experiments Lain (EP 1, 4, 7, 12)

I thought the show was interesting, but I don't know if I liked it. I was in a bad mood when I watched it, and I still am, so maybe I didn't see things right.

One thing I did noticed throughout the show were people's eyes. I don't know if it's artistic styling like if the animators/artist got lazy or intentional, but some eyes were very un-human. Lain's is a good example. Her pupils were super constricted and the lines that point towards or away from the pupils made her eyes seem fake, and not because it's a fiction, but it just made her seem unreal. Even in episode 1 before anything began, she did not look normal, but I guess that might have foreshadowed her origins.

The Wired scenes reminds me of 2000s movies that featured the Internet with the grainy screen qualities and the deep dramatic computer voices at the introduction scenes in each episode.

Also I wanted to point out that ominous shadow in Lain's neighborhood street. I thought it was ominous because it looked like a shadow from the houses or electric pole but the sahdign wasn't a dull grey but it had things in it that supposed to be either a void or a pool of dark things.

Anyway, I have no clue what went on in Lain's mind, but I know she's supposed to have traveled between the Wired and the real world. When she explains things, I don't know where or how she came up with the stuff. It almost sounds like she figured it out, but it didn't say how.

I am curious about what is said and found about the Wired. I know it basically refers to the Internet and its infinite possibilities. Even now we are still finding new ways to use it and open new avenues within the Internet for people to discover. But like computers, the Internet is a man-made construct. The things it cannot do are what we allow or have not found.

But that's the point of the Wired. It suggests that what people don't know already exists, you just need to find it. Instead of treating it as a manmade construct, it is an independent dimension that can only be accessed by devices (phones and computers, or the anime calls them Navis). And a Navi doesn't connect you to some location on your selected Internet. It connects you to your Wired self. Or at least for Lain, it did. I don't know what other people do since they are supposed to be "applications." Are they applications from the Wired that are opened as humans in the real world or the other way around?

I also don't know if it ever explained what the Knights were, or how the Wired or Lain is connected to the suicides, like the very first one at the beginning of the show.

I know the episode skipping probably skewed my opinion of the show, but I don't really have much of an opinion for this show. The confusion probably gives it complexity, but even in episode 12 I am still not sure what anything means.

-04/23/24

Last post of JPT3702. Thank you to everyone who reblogged my posts. I didn't give many mind-blowing posts, but I hope everyone enjoyed it regardless. I had a good time reblogging everyone else's posts and hearing other people's thoughts. Good luck with exams and have a good semester!

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snimeat · 2 years

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Do you have any coloring tutorials or would you be willing to make one? Your coloring is always out of this world idk how you do it but it's amazing!!

is anyone really interested in how i colour? stappp let me just sksksksksksksksk, this is soooo fucking nice to hear omg. thank you nony so much💕

okay, i don’t have a tutorial to give you since i’m literally yoloing my life through colouring. i mean, it’s mostly me choosing randomly depending on my mood and how dark i want things to be because, if there’s one thing i prefer is dark, gloomy, noisy and film photography inspired pictures. i do use adobe lightroom for it. that’s the one i found myself most comfortable with, the free version btw. there’s some other free apps you could use, like snapseed, but i find this one better. it’s also quite easy for someone like me, with zero experience. there’s many options within the app too, the only way you can understand how you like things it’s testing, trying to see what style you might enjoy more. i can’t give you much explanation on how each function works as i, myself, am a beginner. i haven’t looked up any tutorials so everything you see on my edits is just me clicking and figuring things out as i go. my advice for you is to do the same, click on everything, go to the extremes on each side of the app, try everything out. lightroom allows you to click on the picture to see a before and after each edit you make, so that might help you on your journey. also, put things on 0 to 100, i mean, if you’re confused and don’t see any difference that could help you.

so, for example, my last the eclipse, episode vii edit — i chose this still randomly. for this show i’m mostly using the default vintage 6 on the lightroom app. then i changed everything according to how light the still is or how dark it is originally. also, the app allows you to edit one picture and copy paste everything onto the others so you don’t have to do it one by one, which makes everything a lot easier and faster.

BEFORE AND AFTER some scenes, even if they’re in 1080p, the quality doesn’t turn out that good when you screenshot them (at least for me), so one of the reasons i love my grainy, noise option is for this exact reason. it makes things look less shitty and they give off the vibes i’m looking for. sometimes, some stills help with their natural lighting, some others makes my life a bit harder because they’re quite dark already so i need to balance it all out with the exposure, the shadows and highlights, otherwise you can’t see anything. it’s mostly a game of “how dark and dramatic can i still make this and make it look good?” for me.

for instance, colouring some kinnporsche scenes were a nightmare, now i can’t remember which ones gave me a headache though. take for example this Pete scene from episode x instead of the default vintage 6, i used vintage 7. that’s basically all i used for kinnporsche after episode iii, i think. i tend to use more the “vintage” default pack within the program because it gives the vibes i want. sometimes i use the “artistic” one too, but that’s mostly in singular edits, not for shows i keep up from beginning to the very end.

COLOURING so, idk how much helpful this can be for you nony but that’s mostly it. i decide everything when i’m on the app testing everything out. most of the time the first frame i choose decides the colouring for the next ones. the only time the last frame decided the colouring was the eclipse episode vii. i edited the last frame first then applied everything to the other ones. sometimes though, some colouring works for some scenes better than they do others so i need to individually change whatever made that scene impossible to see. to give you a example, sometimes the colour is too red so the temperature or the saturation, sometimes it’s the shadows or the vibrance. i do also touch on the colour mix and colour grading but, again, totally preference here. keeping the eclipse example, these are my setting on lightroom:

#nony if you need help with anything else that wasn’t clean let me know #i hope this was useful in some way even though it’s not much #do let me know okay. good luck 🌻#nonys #lightroom help #gei’s nonsense answers

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illusinia · 1 year

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(Beginning of the FMA modern retelling attempt- sorry the dialogue is all exactly the same, but i do like the original dialogue and it fits well. A few notes: I'm assuming Armestris is an older, established country. I'm also treating it like a European country in terms of buildings and building trends- one that wasn't ravaged and half destroyed by war. I'm also assuming, like most countries in Europe, the train services are still active and were upgraded over time. Last, I'm assuming they had automail originally- otherwise Ed would be stuck with a shitty prosthetic. This is more or less the beginning of the first draft (the actual document is 6 pages and barely begun, but I've also never written for this fandom before so I'm trying to feel my way around.))

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“The Freezing Alchemist, really? He’s here?” questioned Roy, his eyes locked on the leader of their country, Fuhrer Bradley.

The one-eyed man gave him a nod and picked up a remote and flicked on the TV mounted to the wall parallel to his desk. The screen flickered to life with a frozen CCTV video already loaded. “We have evidence that he managed to slip into Central a few days ago.”

With the press of another button, the video began to roll looking down a mostly empty street from an intersection. A few people were milling around outside of various bars- the only establishments open. The video timestamp showed that the footage was from around midnight the previous night. A soldier was walking down the street- more like stumbling, honestly- when something appeared to catch his eye in an alley located halfway down the street. He made a motion, said something, and moved to draw his weapon. A hand shot out of the alley before he could, grabbing his face and causing the man to freeze- literally. The soldier in question fell over and a man ducked out of the alley to grab the soldier and pull him into the shadows. A few seconds later, the man appeared again, dressed in a dark hoodie and pants. He looked down the street opposite the camera, then looked back again. Catching sight of the camera, he grabbed for his hood, moving to pull it up.

Fuhrer Bradley paused the video footage there, the image of a dark-haired man with a grim expression frozen in place. Tall, long face, black hair, ponytail. The CCTV footage was grainy, but clear enough to identify the man all the same. A man who had just turned a soldier into a decorative ice sculpture on screen.

Roy Mustang internally cringed. This was some Kimblee level crap. If the psycho weren't sitting behind bars in Central Prison, Roy might have thought that his deranged former-colleague had learned a new trick. "I see."

"That’s why I’ve summoned you here, Colonel," continued Bradley as he started up the footage again. Namely, the part where Issac threw a chunk of ice at the CCTV camera. "I need you and your men to smoke him out and bring him in.”

Roy nodded once with a grim expression. “Consider it done so.”

:read more:

“I’m glad you’re with us in Central here for a while, Mustang. It’s good to know I have people I can count on.” Fuhrer Bradley gave him a nod in return and hit play once more, watching the camera go black as the ice struck it.

“Sir.”

Flicking off the TV, Bradley turned back to Roy again. “Ah, one last thing. Our rising young star is here as well. I’m placing him at your disposal.”

Surprise shot through Roy, though he never let it show on his face. Bradley couldn’t mean- “Forgive me, Fuhrer Bradley, but just to be clear, are you referring to-”

As if reading Roy’s mind, the other mad nodded with a smile. “I am: the Fullmetal Alchemist. Edward Elric.”

Keeping his face carefully neutral, Roy nodded once more. “Yes, sir.”

“I look forward to your success, Colonel,” stated Bradley as he took a seat behind his desk, effectively dismissing Roy with that single gesture.

With one last nod, Roy turned and exited the room, cursing under his breath as soon as he was in the hallway. He didn’t particularly want Fullmetal involved in this fight- fighting other Alchemists was tricky and he wasn’t sure the young man was quite ready for that despite his amazing skills as an alchemist. However, it was clear that the Fuhrer was demanding that Fullmetal assist in hunting down the Freezing Alchemist all the same.

Pulling out his cellphone, he dialed Ed’s number as he headed to round up his own men. Fullmetal was not going to be happy about this delay, he just hoped the kid actually listened to him for a change. A huff of laughter escaped him at the very thought- yeah, right. And maybe Hawkeye would wear a mini-skirt to the office.

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“Damnit, the colonel’s never gonna let us out of here, is he?” asked Ed with a scowl as he shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked down towards the city streets below.

Beside him, his brother let out a distressed sound. He turned to look at Ed with large eyes- surprisingly realistic looking given his brother’s body was a transmuted suit of armor with skin stretched over it. The younger brother nearly loomed, Ed being unable to do anything about the size difference of the suit versus Al’s original body. “And we already bought our tickets to Liore. Does this mean we’re not going?”

“I don’t know Al,” replied Ed with a sigh as he stood up on the roof they were currently perched on. The boys had climbed onto the roof of one of Central Command’s buildings so they could get a little air- Central was suffocating compared to their home in the country and they needed to see the sky sometimes. It was hard with the light pollution, but at least on the roof it was a little better than the park-like grounds of the government building. Too bad their break had been ruined by Mustang’s call. Damn bastard said he was sending over an email, too. Something about a briefing. It didn’t matter- they would catch this guy so they could get their train and get to Liore- with luck. “Come on, let’s get this over with for now.

Al stood as well, taking one more look out at the sky to the full moon just rising over the horizon. “Lead the way, Brother.”

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nickgerlich · 2 years

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I Shutter To Think

What goes around, comes around. That’s what they say. Fashions have a way of coming back to haunt us, as do hair styles. Maybe it’s because there truly isn’t anything new under the sun. Maybe it’s because, in our rush to reach tomorrow, we left behind a really good yesterday, and have come to regret it.

And maybe it’s because we have raised new generations of people on the New, that they are fascinated by the Old, and want to experience life as we did several decades ago.

Vinyl records are a good example. Starting in 2006, vinyl started its comeback, and last year 21.8 million units were sold. That compares to CDs, which continue their decline to 17.7 million. Sure, tangible recorded music is only about 10% of the music pie, which explains why many retailers have eliminated this category. Streaming services now account for 84% of music sales, but vinyl is big enough to warrant a specialty record shop in Amarillo, and even one in tiny Shamrock Texas on Route 66.

Another great example, and one that has piqued my curiosity, is film photography. This is how I learned the art of capturing light many years ago, borrowing my father’s Pentax K1000. It’s a rock-steady camera that I have today and still use. So popular is film photography that Kodak, once the industry giant, has hired more than 350 people in the last two years to be able to address rising demand.

It was in late 1996 that digital caught my eye and I bought my first film-free camera. It was a Casio that had what was then considered a mind-boggling 360 X 240 resolution. Yeah. That’s less than 1MP. Can anyone say grainy?

I dove deep into digital, and have bought quite a few cameras in the last 25 years. Digital is a very different game, allowing users to effectively pre-edit by adjusting a variety of settings, or tweak later in Photoshop and Lightroom. In the old days, editing was what you did in the dark room, with masters like Ansel Adams dodging and burning to achieve special effects.

Of course, film is still a tiny portion of the bigger photography picture (pun intended). The most common camera that 85% of us possesses—our smartphones—will never have film. And while there is a handful of new film cameras being manufactured now, the vast majority of cameras sold are digital, either DSLRs or mirrorless. Film is the new vinyl.

And there’s the issue of processing and printing, which can be expensive. You have to know where to look, although many Walgreens offer the service, as well as Walmart. There are also specialty mail-order processors, who will also burn a CD with your images in case you want to ride the fence.

Interest in film photography is felt across all age groups, but more pronounced among those who probably never loaded a roll before. There is increasing fascination with film photos from previous decades, notably the amazing work of John Margolies, who documented the vanishing American roadside from 1969 through 2008. He died in 2016. A large portion of his catalog is now available in the public domain at the Library of Commerce.   

Rabbit hole alert: You can get lost in his photos for hours!

 As an amateur photographer, I am fascinated by how any photo more than 20 years old is viewed less for its artistic quality, as much as it opens a window unto the past. The cars. The clothes. The hair styles. Even the shops and their signage. Every artifact of past pop culture becomes valuable, whether the horizon line is level or not. Meanwhile, I am my own worst critic, often agonizing over shots to get them just right. In 20 years, no one will care. Heck, in 20 years I may be dead, and my kids will have canceled my storage subscription on the cloud. Poof. Gone.

Some credit Instagram with the resurgence in film. For those of us who have been using the platform since its launch in 2010, we recall the quirky old-school filters as well as the square-only format, like a Polaroid picture. Lost in this assertion is the fact that, at least in the beginning, Instagram only supported digital uploads from a smartphone. You can now post from a computer, and use any digital or otherwise scanned images.

There is a twisted irony to the recent surge at Kodak, though, because the company invented digital photography in the 1970s, then sat on it, allowing others to hammer nails in its coffin many years later. But as it turns out, Kodak is not quite dead yet. While film may never grow so much as to give Kodak the last laugh, it all goes to show that what’s old can become what’s new.

I just hope that bell bottoms and mullets never return. We can live without those pictures in my mind.

Dr “Some Things Are Best Left Dead“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #film #photography #digital #Kodak

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willwriteforhugs · 3 years

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you saved me- park seonghwa

seonghwa x reader - one shot !

word count: 2k

genre: fluff, meet-cute

synopsis: a busy and cold winter day leads you to a (very close) brush with death. but a stranger seems to be in just the right place at just the right time...

warnings: mentions of loneliness, near car accident (nothing too serious)

a/n:

me as i open tumblr with the intent of actually posting for once: god i need to go post something so i feel less bad about being alive

so, anyways. first seonghwa fic- which is really just a long drabble. i always knew i wanted a seonghwa meet-cute, and this idea just seemed to suit him... please remember that this is for entertainment purposes only, though, so be respectful! (also, ^^^THIS genre of seonghwa pic, with the grainy filter and the tan...bruh...)

anyways, i hope you enjoy, and as always- thank you for reading :)

- - -

your breath comes out in short, angry puffs, which you can see reflected in the cold afternoon air. the temperature in seoul is absolutely freezing, and you are not dressed for it. when you had left for work this morning, (in your standard sweater + jeans combo) you clearly were not anticipating that the sky would dump snow all day long. you long desperately for your warm winter coat.

so now, here you are: jogging, but only as quickly as you feel is safe in this weather. your condo is only a few blocks down- hence why you had walked in the first place, and why you hadn’t brought cash to pay for a bus. but god, the cold is just piercing.

the streets are practically empty, because of the terrible weather. so, at the very least, you are spared the embarrassment of having to waddle awkwardly on the ice in front of others.

but, to add to the stress- your day had seriously not gone as planned.

when you first took it, you thought that the simple receptionist job would be easy- and doubly so with the convenient location. but these past few weeks were proving you wrong, today especially. while being distracted by coworkers, you accidentally put an important client on a somewhat permanent hold, and ruined a potential sale. as if that wasn’t enough, the next call you routed to a completely different office by mistake, earning you a strict talking to by the supervisor.

so, to put it plainly: you were tired, annoyed, and cold. so. freaking. cold.

heaving a sigh, you continue your jog/waddle towards your street corner, which is two intersections away. faintly, you can hear a city bus approaching, the one that always stops near your work building. from where you are standing, the bus will be driving perpendicular to you, and you cock your head in thought. you don’t need the shuttle itself, since you live so close, but you wonder how close the bus is now...

feeling a sudden burst of energy, you speed up a bit, challenging yourself to beat the bus to the empty corner, even though you know it won’t stop there. this is something you do often- set up little games for yourself. it’s mostly an attempt to stay busy, but- though you’d never admit it, it helps with the loneliness too. when you race against the clock (say, to make a speedrun to the copy room at work) it almost feels like you are competing against an old friend.

you obviously know that you can’t beat the bus, but the thought itself is entertaining, so you throw caution to the wind. your feet slap the pavement as you run, and you hear yourself laugh a little. the cold air rushing by your cheeks helps distract you from your own thoughts.

you sprint through an empty intersection, and as you approach the final corner- having obviously lost the race to the bus- you begin to slow down a bit. but as you near the end of the sidewalk, (which is parallel to the moving bus, whose hulking body is getting ready to pass you) you feel your previous momentum get the better of you.

you stumble off of the curb- and right into a vicious patch of ice on the waiting asphalt.

it happens in slow motion: your feet slide harshly backwards, and you scramble for any traction- but to no avail. you hear yourself cry out as you fall forward, right into the path of the oncoming shuttle.

you slam your eyes shut.

but instead of hitting the ground, or the bus, a sudden weight catches you around your middle and lurches backwards. you scream again, certain you’ve already died.

you hear the sound of the bus honking as it speeds by- the only thing traveling faster than it is your frantic pulse.

you hit the ground hard, with all of your weight on your left shoulder and hip. even so, you start with the relief of knowing the bus didn’t even graze you.

only after a moment do you realize why it hadn’t.

someone had caught you.

grabbed you from behind, and used their whole body weight to get the two of you to safety.

you lurch forward, startled. as you turn around, you see him lying on the ground, in the same position you were in just seconds before- and you meet the eyes of the person who’d just saved you.

it’s a man- a young one. and good god, he’s beautiful, too. the boy on the ground before you is seriously the epitome of korean beauty- large, dark eyes, an open face, and full lips. as soon as he opens his mouth, you wonder at how his teeth could possibly be so perfect.

it takes you a moment of staring before you realize he’s speaking to you.

“um.” your voice breaks. “what?”

the boy scrambles onto his knees, shuffling towards you. “i asked if you’re alright- are you hurt?” his voice is concerned, and his hands flutter about your face- too wary to touch you, but clearly wanting to.

his eyes are more genuine than you can even take in, and you hesitate at the whole scene- what the hell is happening? did you hit your head?

you stutter, trying to make sense of the situation. the boy leans back on his heels as you finally catch your breath.

your words are breathy, but deliberate. “you- you saved me.”

the boy tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “yes, i suppose i did.” a beat passes before he continues. his eyes, though now bordering on playful, still look worried. “you probably shouldn’t be running in this sort of weather.”

you heave a sigh that comes out in a laugh. “yeah, i realize that now.”

your counterpart picks himself up off the ground, brushing off his front. he then extends a hand towards you. you stare at it for a moment, confused. for a moment, he looks down at you intently, waiting. your puzzlement passes, and you blush as you cautiously place your palm in his, allowing him to help you up.

“i’m seonghwa, by the way. park seonghwa.” the man- no, seonghwa looks down at you, letting his sentence hang.

you clear your throat, feeling a harsh wave of embarrassment at the situation. “um- i’m y/n.”

seonghwa nods at you, taking a step back. his brow is furrowed. “well, y/n-ssi- you didn’t actually tell me if you were hurt or not. do you feel dizzy? nauseous?”

you throw your hands up in protest, not wanting to cause any more distress than you already had. “no, uh- i’m fine, really. maybe a little bruised, but i’m okay. i think it would be a bigger problem if you were hurt...”

you are not exaggerating- you can only imagine the guilt you would feel if he’d been injured.

seonghwa represses a smile. “i’m alright too. you did startle me, though. thought i was about to witness something pretty terrible...”

at this, you give a surprised chuckle. “yeah, i’m so sorry...you really came out of nowhere, huh? i seriously didn’t even know you were there until i was on the ground!”

this time, it’s his turn to laugh. “yeah, those bus stops provide great cover.”

the two of you settle into a stiff silence, and you can practically hear your heart pounding- both with leftover adrenaline, as well as the sudden nerves that seonghwa was giving you.

“here,” he says, breaking the quiet. “take this.” he shrugs off his long winter coat, and before you can argue, he’s reached over and settled it on your shoulders. the relief is near instantaneous, but you find yourself a bit too tongue-tied to thank him.

you sigh again, determined to get the words out. “oh, god, i really am so sorry about that, um-” you stutter. “i really should thank you, for the coat. but also-” you take a deep breath. “thank you, park seonghwa, for saving my life.”

at this, the man actually blushes. he reaches a hand to rub the back of his neck. “no, really, it was just a gut reaction...”

you shake your head, insistent. “it doesn’t matter. i could have died, but you prevented that. now-” you can feel yourself gaining confidence. “what can i do to repay you?”

seonghwa’s face, which had previously harbored a look of child-like innocence, suddenly turns mischievous.

you tilt your head, indicating an answer.

his smug smile is full now, chin tilted upwards. “i actually do have a request.”

“okay, shoot.”

“you’ll do anything i ask?”

you frown, narrowing your eyes in an almost flirtatious way. “i suppose i have a few limits...”

to your surprise, seonghwa interrupts you, eyes twinkling. “you’ll repay me- by allowing me to take you out on a date, y/n.”

your mind goes fully blank for a moment.

...huh?

you blink in shock, not being able to suppress your initial reaction. “wait, come again?”

“will you go on a date with me?”

you stare at him- this terrifyingly beautiful man was asking you on a date? after you’d fully humiliated yourself in front of him? what on earth?

suddenly, before you can even finish the thought, you find yourself nodding. “i suppose i can arrange that.”

seonghwa’s smile is completely smug at this point. “does tonight work?”

you bite your lip, heart pounding despite the chilly weather. your voice comes out in a whisper: “yes, i suppose tonight works.”

seonghwa tries to bury his smile and looks at the ground. “that’s great.” he pauses, allowing his gaze to flit back to you. “do you- i hope this doesn’t sound weird, but do you want me to walk you home?”

you smile, but shake your head. “it’s alright, i live close. here- i’ll give you my number, though.”

you dig through your work satchel for a piece of paper and scribble your phone number on it. when you extend it, he accepts the slip, still trying to suppress his grin.

a beat passes, and the two of you look at each other intently.

and with that, seonghwa reaches down and gently takes your hand, glancing at your face to make sure the action is alright with you. when you don’t pull away, he lifts it up and presses a soft kiss to the top of your hand, holding your gaze the entire time. his lips are cold, an unlikely and romantic nod to the temperature.

you feel your neck and cheeks go red, but you smile in an attempt to seem casual. “thanks again, seonghwa. for helping me.”

“of course.” the man’s eyes are twinkling again. “as grim as it sounds, i’m sort of glad it happened. if it hadn’t, i probably wouldn’t be talking with you right now.”

you smirk in what you hope is a flirtatious manner.

“well,” he continues. “don’t let me keep you. after all, you’ve got a date to get ready for.”

seonghwa begins to walk away, then turns back. “although,” he calls over his shoulder. “i’m pretty sure the guy you’re meeting with won’t care what you’re wearing. you could probably show up in your pajamas and he’d still think you were gorgeous. just for the record.”

before you could manage an answer, he turns on his heel and strides away- but even from here, you can tell he still has a goofy grin plastered on his face.

heart pounding, you turn and make your way towards your apartment building.

despite yourself, you also can’t seem to keep the grin off of your face.

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inkformyblood · 3 years

Text

You Speak Of Grace

Commander Cody Week Day 02 Origins [ @commandercodyweek ]

Pairing: Codywan

Summary: Cody is about to meet his new Jedi, but he will make sure his men are as prepared as they can be. Little does he know that Obi-Wan is anything but what he was expecting.

“Once more.” Cody’s voice rang out as the test alarms died away, eliciting a fresh wave of groans from the assembled clones. From behind his helmet, Cody glanced over the group, running through the list in his mind once again. The heavy gloves hid the faint trembling of his hands as his fingers danced over the datapad, drawing up another scenario. “Test Scenario 00726. Oya!”

Distantly, Cody could almost hear Alpha-17’s low rumbling laugh echo forth from his memory at their displays of grumbling compliance. He carefully ignored the brother at the back — Crys, he thought, judging from the bright yellow daubed over his pauldrons and the dark hair growing up through the unnatural yellow dye — who ducked behind a console and emerged after swallowing down the last dregs of his caf.

The consoles rang shrilly as they ran through the necessary checks once more, heads lowered as the other clones focused on their own work. Cody sensed movement just behind him, but didn’t turn, watching the grey painted shape of Helix, their medic, move up behind him in the reflection of a console.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Helix’s voice was soft but no less filled with purpose, expecting to be heard and understood. Cody was the Commander of the Battalion, but Helix was the medic, and that was something entirely different.

“Granted.”

Helix tapped the comm on his wrist, shifting to a private channel, and Cody stifled the reflexive twinge of fear that rattled down his spine. Fear was useful, Alpha-17 had barked at the younger clones in the Command Track, echoing the words of the trainers before him, but it was also dangerous. Drawing in a deep breath, letting it flow through him rather than rule his thoughts, Cody switched to the private channel as well.

“You are doing a good job,” Helix murmured, his voice slightly distorted over the comm. “You are already a good commander, and having a Jedi won’t change that.”

Cody didn’t respond, didn’t want to think about what Helix could read in the sudden stillness of his hands or the lines of tension that flickered into life along his shoulders, but merely nodded, his throat tight.

Helix lightly tapped the back of his wrist guard against Cody’s hip in a silent benediction. “I’m going to head down to medical. Over the next few days, I’ll need to check on the troopers and the Jedi to get a baseline.”

“I’ll draw up a rota,” Cody promised, adding yet another item onto his mental checklist. Dimly, he spared a thought for how his brothers in the command track were faring. Their own comms channel had been eerily quiet since they had received their battalion allocations and left in the early hours of the morning with one final message each of “Oya”.

“Appreciate it,” Helix said with an inclination of his head and stepped away. The other medics, Border and Patience, shadowed him like ghosts, barely half a step behind in a haunting unison that would have made the trainers proud.

Cody turned back to the men, tracking their progress as they worked through the machines, feeling a warm glow of pride settle in his chest. This would work. This had to work.

A warning prickled at the base of his skull, and Cody was already turning to face the doorway by the time his mind had drawn the context clues together.

As Helix left, his pace had slowed slightly, and the soft whoosh of the doors closing took longer than it should have. One of the troopers had raised his head, gaze fixed at something over Cody’s shoulder as one of his hands formed the beginning of the symbol for ‘Mother’, a warning of being watched back on Kamino. But the critical clue was the message flashing from the Command Track Chat from Bly that only read ‘oh no my Jedi’s hot.’

“Hello there.”

“Hello, sir,” Cody said, running on instinct as the rest of his mind went blissfully blank. The only information he had been given was a name and a grainy holo picture to recognise his Jedi by. A small thrill ran down his spine at that thought. Possession was still something all the clones were getting used to, and the knowledge that this man was his, was theirs, was more than Cody could have thought possible.

“Jetti on bridge,” Cody barked over his shoulder to the others, feeling the weight of their eyes on his back.

Obi-Wan smiled, the edges of his eyes — so unbelievably blue, like the point where the ocean met the sky — crinkling. “Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody repeated with a nod, further committing it to memory. He was grateful for the helmet that was still covering his head as he felt the heat settle in his cheeks. Full armour was cumbersome for now, but it had been better to be safe than sorry.

“From what I understand, you have names as well?” Obi-Wan’s gaze darted around the room; his voice pitched low. “I don’t wish to cause any offence; this situation is very new to me.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves, clasping them in front of him.

“CC-2224 is my designation. But my name is Cody, sir.”

It was as if Cody’s words ripped the oxygen from the room, every trooper freezing in place in perfect military rest. Obi-Wan had to feel the pressure lowering onto his shoulders, but he merely grinned once more.

“Cody. That’s an excellent name and a good choice.” Obi-Wan paused, glancing around the room and meeting the gaze of every trooper who quickly lowered their heads back to their consoles at Cody’s signal.

“I trust I can count on you to keep me right, Cody? I will defer to your expertise.” Obi-Wan’s grin was as warm as sunlight, intoxicating when it was directed at just Cody, and he felt his cheeks burst with heat once more.

“Yessir,” Cody said, snapping back into parade rest out of habit.

“I’m not sure what the Kamioans have told you, but if you’re amenable, full armour outside of active combat isn’t required.” Obi-Wan paused with a heavy sigh, looking far older than he was for a moment before he pushed whatever memory it was away. “This isn’t my first war, but no need to make it harder than it needs to be.”

“So,” Cody swallowed, turning his head slightly to track Boil and Waxer’s whispering, their heads pressed together out of the corner of his eye, “Permission to dismiss the men to store their extras?”

“Permission more than granted, Commander.”

If Cody had thought that his mind went blank before, it was nothing compared to being alone on the bridge with Obi-Wan. In every scenario, every training simulation or exercise, nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Alpha-17 and the others took after Prime almost perfectly, and that applied to his lack of attraction as well, at best able to offer rough support to a heartbroken trooper in basic training.

Obi-Wan began to move around the bridge, glancing over the simulated manoeuvres that had been programmed in with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “If you want, Cody, you can store your belongings as well. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I see no reason to start out with extreme formality.”

Cody’s hands were steady as he reached up to remove his helmet, subtly pressing at the itch that had erupted two hours ago at the nape of his skull as he did so. Obi-Wan’s face softened as he watched him, unable to hide the obvious curiosity in his eyes.

“I can definitely see the resemblance.”

Cody laughed, the noise startled out of him, jaw snapping shut with a click.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Please, don’t apologise, Cody. If there is anyone at fault, then it is me.”

“No, sir.” Cody paused to find the correct words, tapping his fingers against the edge of the datapad as he thought. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, Obi-Wan wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he always had been quick on his feet. “As you said, no reason to start out with extreme formality. No fault here.”

Obi-Wan hummed quietly as he thought, and Cody took a moment to inspect the Jedi he would be serving under. The robes hid much of his frame, but Obi-Wan had moved with confidence, despite the fact that the fabric wouldn’t give much protection or possibly act as a hindrance. Cody made another note on his mental list, needing to confer with the other Commanders once everyone had settled again.

“I think this is going to be an excellent partnership, Cody,” Obi-Wan said at last. “With that in mind, with the full reassurance that you can tell me no at any time for whatever reason, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I believe there is some final paperwork to go over.”

“Yessir,” Cody answered before the full implication hit him. Obi-Wan would be sharing, even serving most likely, something precious of his, something he had deliberately chosen to bring aboard a battleship, knowing the cargo restrictions. “I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent! Anakin, my padawan—” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody wordlessly fell into pace at his side, a few inches shorter than the other man as he titled his head to continue watching him, “—he never quite got the taste for it, unfortunately.”

“I am looking forward to it, sir.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, his grin all fond curled edges.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself. He felt like a fool to hope, but it was a hope he held onto tightly.

Out of sight, Cody tapped a message into the Command Chat before silencing it, knowing the explosions it would spawn. ‘Mine’s better, vod.’

#codyweek2021 #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #star wars #clone medic helix #my writing

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tommybaholland · 3 years

Note

I would like you to write tom holland x actress!reader, so y/n is getting ready for photoshoot but tom holland was facetiming y/n hoping how's it going, he misses her. they haven't seen each other for a month. After that they do photoshoot and Wired autocomplete interview. then the crew got surprised and y/n misses tom, she sooo surprise and he came to visit for her. i luv them!

missing you

featuring: tom holland (x actress!reader)

you thanked the hair stylist once they were done with your hair and remained in the dressing room to have a quick facetime with your boyfriend.

“hey, love,” tom answered, his voice slightly raspy. “wow, you look really beautiful.”

“thank you,” you smiled. you couldn’t see him too well but you could make out the grainy outline of his facial features and part of his bare shoulders and chest. he looked like he was still in bed. “why is the room so dark?”

“i’m just laying down for a bit,” tom explained.

“how are you feeling?”

“okay. i just wish you were here.”

you frowned. “yeah. i wish i was there to take care of you.”

“nah. then i’d just get you sick. your company is really all i need. i’m so lonely,” he pouted playfully. “but if i get you sick then i get to take care of you so it could be a win-win for me.”

you laughed at his very ‘tom’ logic. “i know. i miss you too. i think we have some time off soon but if you’re sick then we can always see each other when we’re done with promotion stuff.”

tom groaned. “ugh. i don’t know if i can wait that longggg, love.”

“i know this has been a long one but what you do you normally do when i’m away?”

he didn’t respond, his face buried in the pillow. then after a few minutes, he started giggling.

“what’s that one line from spongebob? where spongebob’s like, ‘what do you normally do while i’m at work?’ and patrick says--”

“‘wait for you to get back,’” you finish for him, laughing along.

“yeah. i feel like patrick right now, babe.”

“aww. well, just focus on getting better and maybe do some golfing and i’ll be back before you know it,” you promised.

the pout was still present on his face. “okay. i’ll try to survive until you come home.”

you smiled before you looked at harrison in the mirror, seeing that he had entered the room.

“we’re getting ready to start-- oh, is that tom?”

“harrison?” tom spoke through the phone.

you nodded, raising the phone up to harrison so he could see his sickly best friend.

“hey, mate,” harrison greeted. they had a quick chat about harrison’s recent debut.

“it’s been fun to see you on the other side of things, dude. i’m so happy for you,” tom praised. “i’ve been watching your interviews and they’re hilarious.”

harrison laughed. “thanks, tom. we have to get going if we’re gonna make this next one, though,” he reminded, looking down to you.

you nodded. “okay, babe. looks like i have to go.”

“alright, baby. i love you and miss you so much,” he blows a kiss to the camera.

“love you. miss you too,” you smile.

“see you, harrison.”

“yeah, see you, man.”

you end the facetime and follow harrison out to the set where you would be doing a promo shoot for the irregulars. like harrison, this was your first major role and the promotional part was just as important as the actual shooting of the show. you had been with tom through several of his press junkets but now you understand how taxing and exhausting it can be, especially when you’re away from your boyfriend for so long.

you would’ve liked to have him with you for some of it, like you had with him. but lately your schedules haven’t been matching up so easily. once you were done filming the show, he had gone off to film for spider-man and once he was done with that, you had started the promotional period for the show. there were short periods in between when you got to see each other but it wasn’t nearly enough time.

the heart certainly grows fonder when you’re apart from each other.

besides all that, you found press stuff to be pretty fun for the most part. photoshoots were really easy and usually didn’t take that long. this one took a little longer because harrison was with you and you both took some individual pictures as well as some photos together. if anything, you’re glad he was your co-star. you knew this wouldn’t be the case for every job you get so you tried to enjoy it while it lasted.

after the photoshoot, you and harrison went over to the studio where they film the wired autocomplete interviews. interviews were a bit more daunting part of press, mostly because you felt the pressure to be liked by the general public and that could put a lot of stress on you to be more performative. luckily, your actor boyfriend has been there to remind you to just be yourself and that’s really the best way to handle it.

you had seen several of the autocomplete interviews and always thought they were funny so you were actually looking forward to this one.

once you arrived at the studio, you got all set up with harrison beside you and then the director explained how it was going to work. it seemed like it was pretty lax, which was nice because there was no one asking questions. rather, the questions were actual google searches that people had made so you and harrison were the ones who really got to lead it.

“you guys ready?”

you and harrison nodded.

“three...two... one...action!”

harrison started. “hi! i’m harrison osterfield.”

“and i’m y/n.”

“and this is our wired autocomplete interview.”

“ladies first,” harrison insisted, prompting you to grab your board.

“okay,” you agreed with a laugh.

“here. i’ll hold it and you can rip the tape off,” he offered.

“good idea.”

a lot of the questions were pretty basic like where you were from, where you went to school, if you went to acting school, what your favorite food is, etc. but then you got to a certain one.

“‘is y/n--’ okay. let’s see,” you said as you peeled off the masking tape before reading the full question. “‘is y/n dating tom holland?’”

you laughed awkwardly before answering, as this was the first question about your relationship status in an interview.

“yes. we are dating,” you responded. your mind suddenly wandered to your earlier conversation with him, causing your mouth to keep moving.

“i haven’t seen him in a bit but--” you paused when you realized what you were saying. “um, i’m pretty busy these days.”

you ended with another awkward laugh and shrug as harrison nodded.

“okay. that’s all for me. your turn, harrison.”

you continued on with the interview despite feeling put off by the fact that you missed tom. fortunately, harrison’s questions were more entertaining and perked you up again.

“‘does harrison osterfield drink the juice?’ wait. what does that mean?”

you bursted out laughing at the vague question.

“y/n, what’s so funny? i don’t get it.”

“nothing, nothing,” you replied. “just answer what you think it means.”

you had finished the interview on a high note.

“you seemed to be in a better mood than earlier,” harrison remarked.

“yeah.”

“are you okay?”

“i just,” you started. “we’ve never been apart for this long and it’s just really hard. i didn’t think it was going to be a big deal and i thought i could handle it but i can’t.”

harrison frowned. “hey. no, no. you’re doing a great job. i promised,” he comforted before looking down to his phone.

you stood up off your chair. “i’m going to get some water.”

you began to walk away until harrison abruptly stopped you. “wait, y/n!”

you looked back to him as there was some commotion at the back of the set. you ignored it, looking incredulously at harrison.

“what?” you asked in an annoyed tone. you just wanted some water.

suddenly, a third voice appeared.

“aww, love. don’t be mean to harrison like that.”

you turned to see none other than your boyfriend standing there. you couldn’t react in any other way other than clapping a hand over your mouth and beginning to cry in disbelief that he was actually there.

“baby, it’s okay,” he cooed, walking over and wrapping you up in a hug. some of the crew watching the whole reunion began clapping and cheering.

he rubbed your backed as you sobbed into his shoulder for a few moments before lifting your head up to wipe your eyes.

“how, how-- what-- i,” you stuttered, wanting to know how this could be happening right now.

“what? are you not happy to see me?” he pouted playfully, brushing some hair out of your face.

“no! i am but i thought you were sick.”

“well,” he smirked. “i am an actor, darling.”

you rolled your eyes facetiously before he continued his explanation.

“i got in late last night and stayed in a hotel. i wasn’t sick but i gotta admit, i am pretty tired.”

you laughed. “you’re so dumb.”

“don’t blame this all on me! harrison was in on it too!”

you looked over to harrison who was still sitting there, watching this all go down. he held his hands up.

“guilty. but i’d like to add that tom was freaking out that you had found out somehow and has been texting me all day.”

“no. i really had no idea but i was worried about you,” you prodded at tom’s shoulder with a finger.

“i’d say it was worth it. wouldn’t you?”

you nodded. “i suppose.”

“can i have a kiss now, please?”

you leaned in and pressed a short kiss to his lips but of course, that wasn’t enough to satisfy him. he kept pulling you in for more before you began to get embarrassed with the other people around.

“alright, i’ll stop. but don’t think you can escape from my sneaky kisses!” he took your hand in his and began leading you out of the studio.

“wait, we still have some promo stuff to do for today.”

tom shook his head. “you don’t. can’t say the same for him,” he nodded over to harrison. “i’ve sorted it all out with your manager and it’ll just be me and you for the next two days. does that sound good?”

well, you couldn’t argue with that.

welcome to wild card night! requests are open and ready..

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland drabble #tom holland one shot #tommybaholland #request #requested

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goldenlaquer · 3 years

Note

YOUR REQUEST IS OPEN?? I MADE AN ACCOUNT JUST TO MAKE THIS REQUEST HELL YEA(✯ᴗ✯) Lemme just start you're an amazing writer i am in absolute love with your works I LOVE IT SO MUCH PLEASE ALSO URE SO PRECIOUS AND FUNNY how dare you be both and not mine🙄 and the request is badum; ABUTO hehe i dont really have particular request but i do wanna see what makes abuto jealous and how he reacts to it.. even if you dont make this request i hope u read this BECAUSE I AM IN ABSOLUTE IN LOVE WITHYOU CRIES

Day One on Tumblr, and there's already a warrant out for your heinous crimes. First offense, making a Tumblr account. Second offense, first-degree murder with your sweetness and kindness and general, all-around sexiness. Third offense, lying about my status of "not" being yours because wHAT THE HELL ARE YA TALKING ABOUT?????? I AM YOURS, FOREVER AND MORE, 'TIL DEATH DO US PART AND SOIL TAKE US, REFUND EXPIRED

Abuto (uh... mildly implied NSFW at the end but very much an SFW piece hehe) Headcanons:

Now, if you ask him, he ain't much for jealousy. He's always been an easygoing guy, never really one to raise a ruckus where it doesn't need it, and mellowed out enough to sit back and logically take in the whole situation before the impulse to rush in can take over. And in all the spans of the very short-lived relationships before you, Abuto doesn't recall a single moment where he's felt the nasty twinge of green for any one of his exes. Not a single moment where he's felt the need to stake his claim, or get into a needless pissing contest with another male.

(In hindsight, maybe that's why his relationships never lasted long?)

But what's all this now? Because Abuto thought he was above it, especially at his grown ass age— but even an old dog can learn new tricks, he supposes.

While Abuto busies himself at the bar, getting drinks for the both of you, one of his men see it first. They nudge him, rumbling out with snorts of amusement, Hey Abuto, you see that yet? Curious, Abuto looks up and over to check out what the fuss is, across the dimly-lit tavern, towards the tables and booths where… well, look at that.

It's not really the young, cocky pup puffing out his chest and pulling the cheap jokes, hoping for the lucky chance to bring home a gal for the night. Abuto can handle young and cocky, he handles it all the damn time. But what really does him in is your reaction to the flirtation.

He's not naïve to the idea of you being hit on— it'd take only a dead fool to not see your beauty— and this isn't even the first time he's witnessed the scene for himself, but every time it's happened, you've always been more than capable of handling the situation yourself, making it known that you were severely uninterested in anyone other than him.

But for some reason that Abuto can't fathom, you're not doing it tonight.

Eyes trained on the face of the eager pup in front of you, body angled closer than he'd like, you're engaged and listening to the conversation. Most noticeably, there's a smile on your face. Small and gentle and very lovely— a smile that you usually give only him.

At this point, Abuto realizes that he's frowning rather deeply, and that his drink in his hand has been crumbled into grainy liquid. Hell. That's some ugly jealousy in his chest alright. And ugly jealousy is telling him to go charging in like a hot-headed bull.

Abuto never gets like this, so one-sidedly bothered and aggressive over this little interaction of yours he shouldn’t care about. He trusts you, always will. But that’s his smile you’re smiling, and if it’s childish to think so, then he really doesn’t give a damn. His muscles are bunched and ready and there’s not a thought in his head except for the costs of the damages he's gonna pay when this is all over.

— Until he catches the split-second your eyes break away from the conversation, briefly meeting his across the tavern before flickering back to the pup. And in that split-second, Abuto realizes the entire sham behind this. With the playful hooting coming from his men, they must have realized this way ahead of him-- which tells him just how good you got him, if he was the last one to catch on.

He relaxes himself enough to calmly (calmly, he reminds himself) walk over, get the poor schmuck's attention with an "alright kid, scram"; the look on his face must have reflected his thoughts enough because it makes the pup pale and scramble away without protest. As Abuto takes the vacated spot and hands you your drink, he mutters, grimacing a tight smile that he doesn't feel. "Don't lie. You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

You beam with an innocence he doesn't buy. "Maybe." You fish the cherry out of your drink, making sure that he's watching you as you slowly loll it between your lips before sucking it in your mouth with a slight 'pop'. You let his gaze zone in at the red stains the cherry left behind before catching his attention again with your next words:

"So what?" You see the exact moment where Abuto pauses, the moment where the smile suddenly drops into complete nothingness. You should probably stop now. Probably apologize or something. This is a dangerous game to play with Abuto, but you play it knowing you're going to win no matter what.

"What are you gonna do about it...” His eyes, dark and sharp, glint down at you, waiting with deadly quiet. “… daddy?"

The planes of his face are so emotionless and shadowed in this dark corner of the tavern that it makes you swallow and begin to nervously wonder that maybe, maybe you fucked up?

But then he smiles again, grins even, the corners of his dead eyes crinkling, the white of his teeth flashing, and chuckles so low and deep that you feel the vibrations of it when he palms your thigh, pulling you closer to his side. The others have reached your table, dumping themselves into the seats across from you, cracking bawdy jokes and roaring boisterous laughter. Abuto turns his head to face them, but his hand stays right where it's at, the heat of it searing through your clothes. You try to bounce your leg a bit but his grip digs a fraction into the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, a warning. You stifle your yelp with a cough.

As his thumb slowly begins to caress you, he murmurs under his breath a promise that only you can hear.

"We'll see."

#gintama #gintama headcanons #gintama imagines #abuto #abuto x reader #abuto yato #asks opened

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dontcare77ghj · 3 years

Text

Breaking The Fourth Wall

Wanda x reader x Vision

Wanda awoke to an empty bed and sunlight blinding her.

"Look, we've all been there, right?" Wanda chuckled as she sat on a chair in Vision's dressing gown. "Letting our fear and anger get the best of us, intentionally expanding the borders of the false world we created." Wanda wondered.

Wanda let out a sigh as she laid in bed at the image of soldiers running in fear, and screaming invaded her mind before pulling the covers over her head.

"Mama, are you coming down soon?" Tommy asked as he and his siblings rushed into her bedroom.

"Mama, our game is freaking out!" Billy exclaimed.

"The systems keep changing!" Luna recalled.

"Is she asleep?" Tommy wondered after their mother stayed quiet.

"Mama's not sleeping, honey," Wanda announced. "She's just resting her eyes." She said from under the covers.

"Kids, what did I say about bothering your Mama?" Y/N asked as she entered the bedroom. "I told you that she's not feeling well."

"But, Mom, my head feels weird. It's, like, really noisy. I don't like it." Billy told Y/N.

"Resting her eyes," Wanda repeated as Y/N pulled Billy in for a hug.

"It's okay, sweetheart. C'mon, kids, Mama's not feeling well. Let's let her rest, and find you something for your head, Billy." Y/N said as she ushered the kids out of the room.

"I feel like an ass," Y/N admitted, sitting in the living room. "I want to take care of Wanda, I do, but at the moment, I'm the only functioning parent in this house. Wanda's bedbound, Vis is MIA, and I've got three kids to look after." Y/N sighed. "They don't need to see her like this. They don't."

"As punishment for my reckless evening, I plan on taking a quarantine-style staycation," Wanda said, back in her striped chair. "A whole day. To myself. That'll show me." She nodded.

Wanda pulled back the covers on her bed to reveal she was still in her Halloween costume, causing Wanda to sigh loudly.

"I got to it first!" Tommy grunted, struggling to pull a controller towards him.

"You always get to it first!" Billy complained, pulling back against his brother's grip.

"Boys." Y/N snapped, moving forward and taking the device out of their hands. "Today is not the day for petty arguments, okay? I have to take care of the three of you and your Mama today, alright. I'm severely under-caffeinated and exhausted, so please, for me, be civil until I've at least had a coffee."

"I'll keep them civil, Mom." Luna piped up from the couch.

"We'll be good, Mom." Billy nodded as Wanda stumbled down the stairs, dressed in one of Y/N's shirts and Vision's dressing gown.

The kids all turned to stare at Wanda in confusion as she blundered into the kitchen.

"Wanda?" Y/N asked as she followed after her wife. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?" She wondered, watching as Wanda gathered items for breakfast.

"Cereal." Wanda simply said as the milk on the counter glitched.

"Why didn't you just ask? I could've brought it to you." Y/N said as Wanda sniffed her cereal.

"Well, I'm up now, so it doesn't matter," Wanda said as the milk turned, a grainy black and white.

"Yeah, I'm not sure what that's about," Wanda commented about the milk. "It's probably just a case of the Mondays. Am I right?" She chuckled.

After the events of last night, SWORD had had to create a temporary base about eight miles outside of Westview.

"Lucky for us, she pumped the breaks." A woman commented as she and Hayward stared at the red energy field.

"Yeah. I feel very lucky." Hayward chuckled. "What's happening with the broadcast?" He asked her.

"Dead air. The signal's gone." She informed him.

"Make sure the team has everything they need. We launch today." Hayward nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Back inside the Hex, Vision was just beginning to wake up. Though, to his surprise, he was not waking up in his bed at home.

He was waking up on a field, a field where a circus had set itself up around him.

Vision stopped in confusion as clowns, mimes and other circus folk walked around him.

What happened last night? Vision wondered, watching the milling people.

And then suddenly, it hit him. The memories of the night before, the pain he felt before collapsing and blacking out.

"You're the new clown?" A man in a leotard demanded as he approached Vision. "At least you're already in makeup." He sighed. "You're late for rehearsal with the escape artist. Come on." The man said, gesturing his head to the left before walking away.

Vision stared after the man in confusion before turning in the direction he nodded.

There stood a dark-haired woman, wrapped in chains. A woman Vision remembered from last night.

"Yeah, I'm not great at this gig, I gotta be honest." She admitted with a sigh. "It doesn't really speak to my skill set. I put in for the bearded lady, but this alabaster complexion wasn't fooling anyone."

As Vision's memory became more comprehensible, he began to stare at the woman quite intensely.

"Can I help you, creeper?" The woman asked, raising a brow at Vision.

"You don't remember me from last night?" Vision asked, causing the woman's eyes to widen. "We locked eyes. There was an unspoken understanding."

"Um, hard pass." She said, pulling the chains from her body before she began to walk away.

"No, wait. Wait up!" Vision called, rushing after her.

"Y/N, have you seen Vis?" Wanda asked, shoveling a spoonful of sugary snaps into her mouth.

"Not since last night," Y/N told her. "I haven't heard from him this morning. I'm worried about him."

"Hm." Wanda hummed before walking into the living room. "Have you seen your Dad?" She asked the kids.

"No." Tommy shook his head, engrossed in the video game before him.

"Do you wanna go look for him?" Billy asked, turning away from the game as Luna put her book down.

"Well, if he doesn't want to be here, there's nothing I can do about it." Wanda shrugged, grabbing the TV remote and changing the channel.

"Mama's kidding, guys," Y/N said, causing Wanda to snort. "Your Dad's just busy, that's all."

"Mama, what did Uncle Pietro mean about re-killing Dad?" Luna asked, biting her lower lip in worry.

"Actually, what did he mean, sweetheart?" Y/N asked, turning to her wife.

"He meant nothing." Wanda scoffed. "And don't believe a word that man said. He is not your uncle." She told the three children.

"Well, then, who is he?" Tommy wondered.

"Here's the thing, guys. I'm your Mama, and as such, you were counting on me to have all the answers, right?" Wanda asked, causing the kids to nod. "Well, I don't. I have no answers. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Niente." She laughed as the kids stared at her and their other mother worriedly. "I'm starting to believe that everything is meaningless. You're welcome to draw your own conclusions, but that's just where I'm at."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Y/N sighed, pressing her head into her hands.

"So maybe I went a little too dark there, but they'll be fine. Vision is made of Vibranium. And have you met my wife? The kids literally inherited tough skin."

"Okay, kids, why don't you go grab your jackets for me, okay?" Y/N asked, ushering the kids out of the living room as Wanda collapsed onto the couch. "Okay, we're going to give you some me-time. I'm taking the kids to the park, Wand."

"Are you serious?" Wanda asked, looking up at Y/N with wide eyes.

"Yes, you need a break," Y/N told her. "I don't know what last night was, and I certainly don't know what's going on this morning, but you need some time to yourself."

"I ever tell you that I love you?" Wanda asked, causing Y/N to smirk.

"Not this morning." She told her.

"I love you." Wanda sighed, leaning up to kiss Y/N as the kids re-entered the living room.

"I love you too," Y/N said as she pulled away. "Now, who's ready to go to the park?" Y/N clapped, turning to the kids, a convincing fake grin on her face.

"But who's going to stay and look after Mama?" Billy asked, looking at Wanda in concern.

"Guys, I'll be fine," Wanda promised. "Go. Have fun at the park." She shooed the four out the front door.

When the door shut behind her family, Wanda was left alone.

And the silence of the house brought a smile to her face.

Wanda settled back into the couch, her bowl of cereal on her lap, as she turned her attention to the TV.

The TV wasn't able to hold her attention for long as her head snapped to the side to see a house plant glitching.

And then the fireplace changed.

A chair followed, and then the TV altered.

Wanda put her bowl of cereal on the table before she forced the living room to change back to its modern setting.

"I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm fine." Wanda chuckled. "I'm fine. I'm fine." She promised reassuringly. "I'm fine."

"Darcy made it through that last firewall all right," Jimmy reported. He and Monica had been driving all night, too afraid Wanda's Hex would catch them if they even slowed down.

"What'd she find?" Monica asked, glancing over at the man before turning back to the road.

"R and D reports. All on the same project. Code name, Cataract." Jimmy informed her. "Hayward wasn't decommissioning Vision. He was trying to bring him back online. And nothing worked until,"

"Wanda stole Vision's body." Monica nodded, the pieces beginning to fit together.

"That's why he was so focused on tracking Vision inside the Hex." Jimmy realized.

"Hayward wants his sentient weapon back," Monica murmured.

"Someone has to tell Wanda," Jimmy said, causing Monica to nod.

"Look. There they are." Monica grinned as she and Jimmy got closer to several cars and a large metal storage container.

She and Jimmy quickly got out of the car and made a beeline for a woman already walking their way.

"Major Goodner." Monica grinned.

"Captain Rambeau." The woman smiled.

"This is Agent Woo." Monica introduced as Jimmy reached a hand out.

"Nice to meet you." Major Goodner nodded, shaking Jimmy's hand firmly.

"Thank you so much for coming. My mother would appreciate your loyalty." Monica said, taking the Major's hand in her own.

"She's not the only one we're loyal to, Captain," Goodner told Monica. "Let me show you what we brought you." She said before leading the pair over to the tent.

At Goodner's nod, a six-wheeled vehicle rolled out of the container.

"Did we get your specs right?" Goodner asked as Monica took several steps forward.

"She's perfect," Monica murmured, staring at the vehicle in awe.

"Hello, excuse me? You tried to help me." Vision said as he rushed after the dark-haired woman.

"Doubtful." She scoffed. "I'm notoriously self-involved." She said, continuing to walk away from Vision.

"No. No. No. Please, just hear me out." Vision begged, rushing in front of the woman, causing her to stop. "All right. I believe that you were a part of a team monitoring a supernatural anomaly. And now, well, you're in it." He said, causing the woman to sigh heavily.

"Fine. I'll go out with you, but I'm ordering the lobster." She said before attempting to walk away.

Vision let out a heavy sigh before a plan came to mind.

"Oh no, look! That mime! His tray is too heavy!" Vision gasped, causing the woman to spin and face said mime.

"Oh, your bad back!" She groaned before Vision pressed his hands to her temples. "Oh! Ooh, okay. Whoa!" Darcy gasped as the wall broke.

"Awake?" Vision asked, holding his hands out in case the woman toppled over

"Uh, yeah?"

"All right?" Vision confirmed.

"Ooh. Oh, hello, self. You know, part of me secretly wanted a guest spot on the show, but seriously? That sucked." Darcy admitted.

"Look, uh, what is your name? Your real name?" Vision demanded of her.

"Darcy Lewis."

"Dr. Darcy Lewis." Vision sighed in relief. "I intercepted a communication regarding your work." He recalled.

"Hey, the lions just got off stage. You're up." A man in a leotard told the two, who promptly ignored him.

"Dr. Lewis, I have questions," Vision told her.

"I have answers." She nodded.

"Brilliant. I believe it's time we take our leave." Vision said, noting the leotard-clad man approaching them.

"You're right, but first, we need him," Darcy said, pointing to a man who was throwing knives at a board.

Throwing knives at a board with an abnormal accuracy rate.

"Him? Are you sure?" Vision wondered.

"Yes. Trust me, we need him. Awake." Darcy told him.

"Alright." Vision nodded before he and Darcy rushed over to the blonde man.

The man snapped around when the two approached, but before he could say a word, Vision pressed his hands to the man's temples and broke the wall.

"Oh, shit." The man grunted, dropping his knives to the ground. "I never wanted to be back in the circus." He sighed, rubbing his temples before looking up. "It's good to see you, Darcy. And you too, Vision."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Vision wondered, cocking his head to the side.

"You do. You tried to choke me out once." He nodded. "I'm also your father-in-law. Clint Barton." He announced.

"We can catch you up on the road," Darcy said, nodding over to a funnel cake truck.

"I said you two are up." The leotard man said, appearing behind Vision and Darcy.

"No, I'm so sorry. But the three of us have a prior engagement." Vision apologized.

"They're not going anywhere." The man said, grabbing Darcy's arm.

But Darcy wasn't having any of it and quickly turned around and punched him in the face.

"Oh no!" Vision hissed.

"My nose!" The man cried from the ground as Darcy high-fived Clint.

"Sorry." Darcy shrugged as the three began to run towards the van.

"Come on."

"Excuse me!"

"Out of the way."

"Where do you think you're going? Get back here!" The leotard-clad man yelled before the three loaded themselves into the van.

"To your house, I assume?" Darcy asked as Clint searched the car for the keys.

"Dr. Lewis, my questions, are my children safe?" Vision demanded.

"That I don't know."

"Are my wife's safe?"

"I don't know."

"And who is that imposter Pietro?"

"Beats me."

"Ah-ha! Let's get moving." Clint cheered, having found the keys.

"Excellent." Vision grinned. As Clint started the car, there was a second that Vision allowed himself to relax in his chair before there was a pounding at the window that caused him to yell.

"Get out of there!" The man ordered.

"Sorry, can't hear you." Vision said apologetically.

"What?"

"Drive!" Vision exclaimed, turning towards Clint. "I'm so sorry. We were double-booked by the agents."

"You have to be on stage."

"Never again, pal," Clint yelled out his open window.

"Step on it, Clint!" Darcy shouted.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't hear you."

"You get back here! I need you! We need you!" The leotard man yelled, but it was fruitless.

The van had left the campground and was speeding towards Wanda and Y/N.

Y/N let out a sigh as she reached Vision's voicemail once more.

"Vis, please call me back. I need to know that you're okay and that you're safe. I need you, Vis, I need you now. I'm with the kids at the park. Something's wrong with Wanda, and I couldn't let them see her like that. Please, just. Please, just call me back. I love you." Y/N said before turning her phone off and turning her gaze back to her playing children.

"Y/N?"

At the call of her name, Y/N turned around to see Agnes approaching the bench she sat on.

"I thought that was you, hon." Agnes grinned, taking a seat beside her.

"Agnes, hi." Y/N gave Agnes a weak smile. "Were you out on a walk?"

"No, not today, hon. I actually went to your house." Agnes admitted. "I talked Wanda out of cutting her own bangs before she mentioned you and the kids were here."

"God, I shouldn't have left her alone." Y/N sighed, pressing her face into her hands.

"No, you did the right thing. No need to make the kids see their mother like that." Agnes promised. "You look like you need a break, Y/N. Say, why don't you bring the kids over to my house?" Agnes suggested.

"Oh, Agnes, are you sure?"

"Of course! Ralph just finished renovating the rumpus room, and the kids can play down there with Senor Scratchy, and we have some adult conversation." She told you.

"That sounds great, Agnes." Y/N sighed happily. "Give me a second to round up the kids, and we can get going." She said as she stood.

"I'll help." Agnes offered. "I'll bluster Aunty Agnes' house of fun so much they'll never want to leave."

While Y/N had been at the park with the kids, Wanda had been enjoying the quiet of the house.

She'd been able to turn off her brain as she ate her cereal and mindlessly watched the TV.

When her bowl was finished, Wanda rose from the couch and made her way towards the kitchen.

But it was when she neared the kitchen it started again.

The kitchen table glitched, reverting in style.

The light fixture was next, and the curtains soon followed.

And then the wallpaper to peel upwards, and the walls glitched between walls and windows.

The stairs flared, and Wanda snapped around when she heard the stork which had reappeared.

"I don't understand what's happening." Wanda sighed, staring blankly at a wall. "Why it's all falling apart and why I can't fix it." She elaborated.

"Do you think maybe this is what you deserve?"

"What?" Wanda asked, staring across from her in confusion. "You're not supposed to talk."

At Agnes' house, Agnes brought out a tray of snacks into the living room, where the kids sat playing with Senor Scratchy. Y/N was sitting in the kitchen, clutching a mug in her hands like it was her lifeline.

"Sweets for the sweets!" Agnes cooed, placing the tray on the table. "Penny, for your thoughts?" She asked Billy, who was gently patting her rabbit.

"I like it here," Billy told the woman.

"Oh, good. Is it because Senor Scratchy is such a good listener?" Agnes wondered.

"No. It's because it's quiet." Billy said before looking up at the woman. "You're quiet, Agnes. On the inside." He told her.

"And your colors are brighter." Luna piped up. "Brighter than the rest of the towns." She added in a low murmur.

"Do you think our Mama is okay?" Tommy asked their neighbor.

"Oh, for sure!" Agnes assured him. "You don't have to worry about your mom. She can do anything. She's a supermom!" She promised with a chuckle.

"Ralph says I sugarcoat things, but you try telling a ten-year-old that their mother is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs." Agnes shook her head with a sigh.

"Now, why don't you three go play in the basement while I talk with your Mom?" Agnes suggested.

The three kids gave her a nod before picking up Senor Scratchy and walking down the basement steps.

"How are you feeling now, hon?" Agnes asked as she re-entered the kitchen.

"Guilty, tired, like a crappy wife and mother." Y/N sighed, taking a long sip of her drink.

"Oh, that's not true, hon. You're a great wife. And a fantastic mother." Agnes promised, standing across from Y/N at the island.

"I left my wife during her breakdown, I don't know where Vision is, and I'm pretty sure our kids are borderline traumatized from watching Wanda this morning." Y/N shook her head.

"Oh, honey, I have seen trauma. Your kids are just fine." Agnes promised. "And you made the best decision you could in the moment. The kids didn't need to see their mother like that."

"I know. But I'm just so tired," Y/N told her. "I'm so, so, tired." She yawned as her eyelids began to grow heavier and heavier by the second.

"We're all set, Captain." Major Goodner said as Monica was safely secured into her suit.

"Thank you." She nodded before turning back to the glowing red force field.

"Darcy's not here to give her stamp of approval," Jimmy said as he walked over to the woman.

"I know. Darcy's in there, and I'm gonna go get her out." Monica said, causing Jimmy to smile. "This is our last shot, Jimmy." She added before her helmet was secured.

"Godspeed, Captain." Jimmy nodded at her.

Monica returned the nod before taking a breath to steel herself and then walking over to the vehicle.

"How much faith do you have in this thing?" Jimmy asked Goodner.

"It's our most heavily-armored space rover. She's gonna sail right through. Unharmed." Goodner assured the man before pulling on her headset. "Capcom, check," Goodner asked after watching Monica strap herself in.

"Good, check," Monica said, clicking the vehicle on.

"On your order, Captain," Goodner told Monica.

"Moving out."

"Contact in five, four, three, two, one." Goodner counted down as the vehicle raced towards the Hex.

But instead of Monica cruising through the Hex on one, the vehicle simply crashed into the barrier.

"What happened to sailing right through?" Jimmy demanded.

"The density is matching her," Goodner said, brows furrowing in confusion.

"I'm close. It's gonna give!" Monica exclaimed as she tried to push through the boundary.

"The structural integrity is failing. It's disintegrating." Goodner said, reading from the screen.

"No, it's being rewritten." Jimmy realized before picking up a walkie-talkie. "Monica, get out of there! Do you copy, Monica? Get out of there!" Jimmy demanded as Monica struggled to pull herself out of the changing car.

Before the entire vehicle could change completely, Monica managed to burst her way out of the top.

Tumbling to the ground below with a heavy thud.

"Get a medevac, now!" Jimmy yelled as he, and several of the soldiers, began to run towards Monica.

As Monica rose to her feet, she had to watch in shock as the vehicle was spat out of the Hex and launched through the air.

"Watch out!" Jimmy yelled, causing the agents to halt in their tracks and narrowly avoid being hit by the car.

Monica stared at the wreck of what she thought to be her only way back into Westview in disappointment. She continued to stare at it before an idea came to her mind.

"No, no," Jimmy murmured, watching Monica turn to the Hex with new purpose.

"I can get through!" She promised, pulling her helmet off and throwing it to the ground.

"Monica! No!" Jimmy yelled as Monica sprinted towards the Hex until her hands met the barrier.

Monica couldn't remember the first time she crossed through the barrier.

And there was a part of her that was grateful for that small mercy, but she wished she was better prepared for the pain she felt now.

As Monica forced her way through the barrier, memories of her past, moments she'd rather repress, began to resurface

It almost felt like she was breaking as Monica pushed her way further through the barrier.

Monica was being torn apart, and it took everything in her to continue pushing and keep Geraldine at bay.

But finally, finally, Monica was able to dive onto the other side, into Westview.

But when Monica made it into Westview, something was different. Something had changed in her.

Monica could see the energy all around her.

But Monica didn't have time to dwell on what was happening to her.

She needed to get to Wanda.

"So, Wanda killed me?" Vision asked slowly.

"Yes. But not because she wanted to. You asked her to do it." Clint clarified.

"Why would I have done that?" Vision wondered.

"To save half the universe," Clint told him, a frown appearing on his face at the memory.

"Did it work?"

"For a second, but Thanos, the bad guy, rewound time and killed you himself," Clint said.

"So in summation, I died, came back and died again." Vision nodded.

"Yeah, pretty much." Darcy piped up from the back of the truck.

"And both Wanda and Y/N had to watch. Both times." Clint added, slowing the car down to a stop.

"Oh man, another red light? We're in the sticks. This is overkill." Darcy groaned.

"I believe, I think that Wanda is creating these impediments to stop me returning home." Vision said, sitting in a chair outside the truck.

"Also, it never rains in Westview, right?" Darcy wondered, staring at the droplets on the windshield.

"Not unless Y/N is making it happen," Clint said as the light flicked green.

The car's occupants let out a happy sigh, and the truck began to move once more before coming to a sudden halt.

Men in trucks had pulled up directly in front of their van and started working on the street lights, causing everyone to sigh heavily.

"I'm not amused." Vision shook his head.

"Great, just take your time, fellas." Darcy groaned, leaning back into her chair.

"So if I am to understand correctly, my original code dates back to an AI called JARVIS? But my corporeal form was born of Ultron's plan for global genocide?" Vision asked, seeking clarification.

"Yeah, it was a hell of a time." Clint shook his head.

"Then, what am I now?" Vision asked.

"You're Vision." Clint shrugged, causing Darcy to sigh.

"Look, I'm more of a STEM type of lady, so I thought Wanda just flipped a switch on your head and brought you back to life." She told him.

"But that doesn't explain why you can't leave the Hex." Clint cut in.

"But what I do know is that I've been watching the show for the past week, and the love you three have is real," Darcy told Vision with a genuine smile.

"It's always been real," Clint added. "I've always known it. I wasn't always there to see it, but I saw enough to know that you have always loved one another. That the three of you belong with together." He told his son-in-law.

Wanda had finally forced herself to get dressed and felt a lot better than she had earlier when she heard a call that ruined her day.

"Wanda? Wanda!" Monica yelled, forcing her way into Wanda's home.

"What are you doing?" Wanda gasped, staring at the woman in shock.

"Wanda,"

"How did you get in here?" Wanda asked, now looking the woman over in anger.

"Listen to me. This whole thing is about Vision." Monica started.

"Get out of my house," Wanda demanded, glaring at Monica with a fire in her eyes.

"Hayward was trying to bring him,"

"Don't talk to me about that! Don't talk about my family! I don't wanna hear about it!" Wanda snapped, using her magic to push Monica out of her house. "The drones, the missiles, Pietro?" Wanda demanded, holding Monica in the air for all the neighborhood to see.

"No, wait, Pietro, that wasn't us." Monica stammered.

"All you do is lie!" Wanda exclaimed before throwing Monica to the ground.

But Monica did not crumple to the ground. Monica stopped her descent and stared up at Wanda with electric blue eyes.

"The only lies I've told are the ones you put in my mouth," Monica said, taking small steps closer to the witch.

"Careful what you say to me," Wanda warned, creating a ball of red energy by her side.

"Do it then. Take me out." Monica shrugged. "See, see? This is where you and Hayward differ. He's gonna burn Westview to the ground just to get what he wants. Don't let him make you the villain." Monica pleaded with her once friend.

"Maybe I already am." Wanda swallowed harshly.

"I'm not afraid of you, Wanda. I lost the person closest to me, too. I get being scared. I know that feeling. The worst thing I can think of has already happened to me, and I can't change it. I can't undo it. I can't control this pain anymore! And I don't think I want to because it's my truth." Monica admitted. "Wanda, you have to,"

"Young lady, I think you have overstayed your welcome," Agnes announced, appearing beside Wanda out of nowhere. "Poor Wanda has been through enough," Agnes said, putting an arm around Wanda.

"This doesn't concern you," Monica told Agnes. "Wanda,"

"Run along, dear." Agnes dismissed Monica, already pulling Wanda away from her.

"Wanda, you have to take it down," Monica begged as the two started to walk away.

"No." Wanda snapped, turning around fiercely. "Don't make me hurt you."

"All right."

"Okay, let's wrap it up."

"Fucking finally." Clint sighed as the road before them began to clear of workers.

Just as Clint began to drive again, he was forced to stop by a woman walking into the middle of the road with a sign.

"Oh, come on!" Clint snapped.

"Come on, kids," Darcy whined, watching as a large group of children began to cross the road.

"Kids?"

"What's next, puppies?"

"I had no idea how much Wanda had endured before coming to Westview. The same for Y/N. I've had no idea how much the three of us have been through. Though I can't remember it." Vision mused. "For me, it feels like it happened to someone else, you know? But for Wanda and for Y/N, it was mere weeks ago." He shook his head. "What am I doing here, sitting, talking to you when I should be with them. This is absurd. I need to get to my wives. I need to go home."

"You always stop for dogs, Lewis, and that's final," Clint said before Vision phased out of the top of the van.

Flying away from them.

"So we'll just meet you there, then?" Clint yelled.

"Was he always like this?" Darcy wondered.

"Oh, here. Would you care for a cup of tea, dear?" Agnes asked, leading Wanda into her home.

"Sure. Thank you, Agnes."

"Okay, sit down. Be right back with that." Agnes promised, sitting Wanda down on the couch.

Wanda let out a sigh as she was left alone in Agnes' living room.

As Wanda looked around her friend's home, she noticed things.

Three plates with sandwiches on them, three glasses of chocolate milk, a coffee cup, and a locket Wanda knew belonged to Y/N.

"Agnes?"

"Hm?"

"Are Y/N and the kids here?" Wanda asked, picking the locket up and holding it between her fingers.

"Oh, yes. I found them at the park and invited them here." Agnes responded.

"Where are they then? Where are the kids and Y/N?"

"Oh, I think they went down to the basement," Agnes told her.

Without a word, Wanda rose from the couch and walked towards the basement door.

"Boys? Luna? Y/N?" Wanda called, walking down the stairs and further into the basement.

Much to Wanda's surprise, when she rounded the corner, she saw a doorway covered in thick vines.

Wanda called her family's names into the doorway, and when no one responded, she continued to walk forward.

At the end of the hallway, she found a small room. It, too, was decorated with vines, along with strange symbols and other items of intrigue.

One that particularly caught her eye was a glowing book.

Wanda would have moved closer to the book but was distracted by the sound of footsteps.

"Wanda, Wanda. You didn't think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?" Agnes wondered, now standing across from her with Senor Scratchy in her arms.

As Wanda stared at Agnes in confusion, Agnes raised a hand and caused the door to slam shut in a purple glow.

"The name's Agatha Harkness. Lovely to finally meet you, dear." Agnes, Agatha, grinned before her eyes flashed a vibrant purple.

And with that, Agnes entered Wanda's mind and showed her who she really was.

Taglist will be open throughout the entire series

@x-uglyprincess-x @imthedoctorlove @loveinnoya @unknownalien3388 @bindythedemon @summersimmerus @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @natasharomanoffismywife @mcsteamy4ever @monxpeet @amywinehouseisgod-blog @milleniumloki @buckybarnesplumwhore @kennedywxlsh @drpepperobsessed @madamevirgo @superbsccissorsdeanexpert @itty-bitty-witch @essenceproxima @severusminerva @okkulta @mrscasnovak @niki-is-a-thing @sunshinepower17 @pinkninja200 @iflostreturntoflynnrider @simp4mcuwomen @blackfarrahfawcett @angelicl-y @bromieeeomieee @persie33 @ambria @1awesomemeash @montygator17 @runaway-mom-friend @gengen64 @tiny-freak @abitofeverythinggg @aimezvousbrahms

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #vision x reader #vision x wanda #wandavision #wandavision x reader #avengers x reader

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Riptide: Cole x Reader

-HAPPY 10th ANNIVERSARY NINJAGO!! -I write for females (just as a side note) because I’m a girl and it’s easy for me soooo yeah :/ -i know jay and cole are besties, but for this, let’s just say jay still likes to tease cole (friends do that anyway tho??)

Summary: Cole finds you at the beach trying to drown yourself. When he rips you out of the ocean, he realises you look familiar.

WARNINGS: Near-death (drowning)

The waves quietly lapped against the edge of the sand, tickling Cole’s toes as he made his way across the wet grains. The moon stood high in the sky, shining brightly overhead like a lighthouse. Cole promised to catch up with the others, but he couldn’t rip himself away from the calm of the waves.

His heart stilled with the quiet waves, sinking into the wet sand like his feet. A cool breeze passed over his face and it brushed through his windswept hair. If only Ninjago could stay this calm. If only he could be like the ocean, free, never ending.

Cole found himself walking deeper into the ocean and away from the banks. The waves slowly met his ankles, then his knees. It soaked into his rolled up trousers, travelling up until he was waist deep. He didn’t worry about being so far out since it was low-tide. And even if he did find himself getting swept out to sea, he still had his powers.

Something softly splashed over to his left. He whipped around, immediately taking a defensive stance. As ineffective as it was, he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Cole eyed the smooth waters. He wondered if it was a shark, or worse, a mystical beast he never heard about. For a few moments, it was quiet, save for the waves, the calm breezes, and Cole’s steady breath. “Maybe it was a fish.” he whispered to himself with a chuckle. Something brushed his leg and he reared back with a squeal.

“Not a fish not a f--First Spinjitzu Master!”

The first thing Cole saw was a shirt, then a bundle of floating hair and a face hidden among it. He wanted to freak out, but a girl was laying in the sand underwater. Underwater. He plunged under the cool waves, wrapping his arms around the girl’s torso and hauling her up. “First Spinjitzu Master... First Spinjitzu Master...” Cole placed a hand on his earpiece.

“Guys! I found a girl in the ocean. She’s unconscious and...I don’t think she’s breathing. Come quick!”

“We’re on our way.” said Zane. The nindroid’s voice was a relief to hear. “We will arrive in five minutes, and as an extra precaution, I have phoned nine-one-one.”

“Okay, great, great.” As Cole laid the limp girl on the grainy sand, he frantically looked her up and down. Even through the curtain of hair plastered over her forehead, he could tell her face was unnaturally pale. So much, that it could have been a mirror of the bright moon.

It suddenly occurred to Cole that he had to do something. The girl wasn’t breathing and she’d die if he didn’t do something. “Gyah! I’m not the smart one!” He ran a hand over his face. There was one thing Zane did bother to teach everyone in the group, whether it be for civilian use or themselves. Cole pictured Zane standing by his side.

Place the heel of your palms on the centre of the chest.

Cole placed his hands on the centre of the girl’s chest.

Interlock your fingers. Remember to press two inches down.

Cole interlocked his fingers.

I have read somewhere that pressing down to the beat of Stayin’ Alive is said to ‘do the trick’ and make it easier.

And so Cole did just that. “Ha... Ha... Ha... Ha... Stayin’ alive... Stayin’ alive...” He wasn’t sure if it was working, or even if he was doing it right to begin with. How would pressing two inches down on someone’s chest do good? How would this save her from being killed?

Suddenly, she jolted upward, coughing and sputtering out a load of water right into Cole’s face. He didn’t care though. That meant the water had come out of her lungs, right? The danger had been avoided, at least for now.

“COLE!”

He whipped around, letting out a loud sigh of relief. Zane and Pixal took Cole’s place, reviewing her vitals and diagnosing her with whatever. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, so he stood off to the side as Jay babbled away. “What happened? Are you okay? How did you find the girl? You didn’t have to swim out there did you?”

Kai looked at Jay weirdly. “Do you think Cole would swim out that far to begin with? He probably found her washed ashore.” Cole wanted to say something, but he was in a daze. The more he thought about the girl, the more he wondered where he saw her from. It was like a smell you know you’ve smelled before but can’t put a name or memory to.

He ignored the background chatter and zeroed his gaze on her limp body as Zane carried her to the ambulance. When Zane turned around and motioned for him to come over, Cole finally came back to his senses. He could think about the girl later, right now, he had to answer some questions.

Three weeks later

“Urgh,” said Cole. “Why do I have to go with Jay?” Sensei Wu raised a brow at him as if to say, ‘really?’. “What is wrong with Jay?” he inquired. “He is a brother, and brothers should be respected.” Off to the side, Jay loudly applauded. “Period. Brothers should be respected, Cole.” He rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“Now,” Wu interjected. “I want you both to visit Jamanakai Village. You will find Mystake’s tea shop. Get these and only these.” He handed Cole an old drawstring bag. It had a label on the string, but the handwriting was so wonky that Cole couldn’t read it. “If she tries to kick you out, tell her I sent you. That is all, I expect you both back by Thursday.”

Jay let out a long groan. “Why can’t Kai do it? Or Zane? Or Lloyd?” He smugly glanced at Cole. “Or even my wonderful girlfriend Nya? I thought they were the responsible ones.” Wu raised a brow and Cole snickered. “You will both go to Jamanakai Village. That is final. While you are out, do not forget to eat and whatever you do, no Elemental Dragons and no vehicles. You will walk the entire way to the village, am I clear?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

To say the walk was gruelling was a nice way to put it. There were tens of thousands of other words Cole could have said to describe the terrible pain of having Jay around. Of course, he didn’t actually mean that, but hypothetically, the walk was terrible.

“You know,” said Jay, “these birds are said to have been exported from the Dark Island.” He pointed to a nearby tree, where three or four birds sat. Their oily wings were like liquid obsidian. Funnily enough, the colour matched both Cole’s gi and hair. He watched as one of them flew away, fluttering straight over his head and into the sky above.

Cole wondered if it would be nice to live life as a bird, but then he realised he wouldn’t have a bed or cake or chocolate and candy.

“I’m guessing they were exported before the Dark Island became...you know.” added Jay. “I mean, how could these cute little guys be from there?” He reached out to pet one of the birds. It squawked and bit his finger. “OW!” Jay rounded on the tiny bird, who actually appeared to be laughing. “Bad bird! That’s a no-no! You don’t bite people like that.”

Jay ripped off his glove and sucked on his poor finger. Cole stared at him as he whimpered. “Is it bleeding?”

“Gwee, I fondt knowh.”

Cole dug a hand in his pouch. He felt around and pulled out a band-aid along with a small alcohol wipe. “Here.” Jay took the band-aid and wipe, gingerly dabbing it on his wound and wrapping the band-aid around his finger. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

They continued on in a comfortable silence, caring only to watch the leaves sway in the wind. When they arrived in Jamanakai village, their feet were sore, and they were tired. Jay’s stomach grumbled, and so did Cole’s.

“I knew we should have eaten before we left.” Cole muttered. Jay let out a long yawn. “Sensei Wu said we were supposed to be back by Thursday. That’s three days away without video games. Do you think I can survive like this? Do you Cole?”

He wasn’t listening. A heavenly smell reeled him in like a fishing line. It was sweet, yet it smelled like green tea. Maybe it was cake; Cole hoped it was cake. “Do you smell that?” he seriously inquired. Jay knitted his brows together. “The bakery? Oh, it’s right there.” He pointed to a small shop to their left, where a girl stocked freshly baked cakes and buns.

Cole could already imagine how pillowy and soft the buns would be. They would have sweet fillings that melted in his mouth, and the cake would be the perfect texture with the right amount of cream. He made his way to the bakery, keeping a keen eye on the fresh chocolate cake.

“Cole, we’re not here to buy cake.” said Jay. “If we’re gonna eat, we might as well eat a real meal.” Cole rolled his eyes and pointed to a slice of chocolate cake. “I’ll take one of that, please.”

The cashier took out a pair of sparkling tongs. “Will that be all?” she inquired with a smile. “My grandma just finished steaming the buns, they’re fresh.” Cole whipped towards the cashier. For some reason, her voice sounded so familiar. It was again, like a smell that reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. Sweet, nostalgic, kind.

That’s right, he thought. This was the girl he saved on the beach. But before then, he knew her as the studious (Y/n) (L/n) from the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts. When Cole had no one to talk to in class, she was there. When he forgot his lunch, she shared it with him. When he decided to run away, she promised not to forget him.

(Y/n) walked out from behind the counter. She handed Cole a bag of two containers. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Her voice was rather soft, like she were embarrassed anyone else would hear. “You saved me, on the beach.”

“Y-yeah, I did.” Was it just Cole or was it getting hot out here? He didn’t need anyone to tell him his face had gone beet red. “Thank you Cole. I might have snuck ‘a few’ more cakes in the bag. That guy’s your friend, right? There are some buns in there for him too.”

Cole met (Y/n)’s bright eyes. They weren’t as lively as he remembered, but they still held that warm glow that always made him feel safe. “I--uh--(Y/n)...”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...do you still go to the Marty Oppenheimer School?” Do you want to hang out sometime? “I mean...uh...” How have you been? “T-thank you for the food.” He let out a nervous laugh and (Y/n) chuckled a little. “If you’re wondering, I graduated last year.” she said. Cole’s eyes widened. Had that much time already passed?

“I live in Ninjago City now.” she added. “I didn’t think I would make it this far, but I did. I’m here in Jamanakai for the next three months before I go back to the city. I heard you’ve been up to things too--ninja stuff. Saving lives.” She smiled at Cole, as if the two shared an inside joke.

“(Y/n)! Help me carry this, it’s too heavy for me!”

(Y/n) glanced over her shoulder. “One second, grandma!” She turned back to Cole and wrapped him in a tight hug. It was brief, it was sweet, and it made Cole remember just how close they used to be. “I have to get back to work. See you soon Cole?”

“Yeah.” he awkwardly replied. “See you soon.” He watched as she disappeared out back. When did he finally become taller than her? When had she actually spoken so nonchalantly? Last time he saw her, they were still kids. They were young, and even with responsibilities, they were still free.

“Sooooo, you’ve got yourself a girl?” inquired Jay. He took the bag from Cole and made his way over to the fountain. The two sat on the ledge as Jay sifted through the food. There were buns filled with red bean paste, lotus paste, and even barbeque pork. Under that were five different desserts. Two velvety chocolate cakes, one egg tart, and three pieces of perfectly wrapped mochi.

Jay took one of the meat buns. “Wow, this is really good. Tell your girlfriend to teach you how to cook.” Cole let out a short sigh. “She’s not my girlfriend, Jay. I haven’t even seen her in years.”

“What? Why?”

Cole closed one of the boxes. He dug around the bag for a fork, but he grasped a small slip of paper instead. Jay peered over Cole’s shoulder with wide eyes. “Ooooo she gave you her phone number? See! Dating. Case closed. I’m gonna tell everyone when we get back.”

“No you aren’t.” Cole retorted. “Like I said, I haven’t seen her in years. She probably only wanted to get back in touch.” Jay raised his brows and Cole elbowed him in the stomach. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” He pulled out one of the buns and took a big bite out of it. “We went to the same school together as kids. We became friends there, but when I ran away from home, we lost contact.”

“So go talk to her!” exclaimed Jay. “Before we go, I’m setting you both up on a date, or at least a night out together. We’re not going home on Thursday, got it? We’re staying ‘til Saturday and that’s final.” Cole raised a brow in amusement. “I thought you said you wanted to play video games.”

“If your girlfriend has a phone, then she has video games.” said Jay smartly. Cole let out a bright laugh. All he really knew now was that he’d have to come to Jamanakai Village more often.

NOTE: I will make a part two soon, so stay tuned! Tip jar

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lego ninjago x reader #ninjago cole #ninjago cole x reader #x reader #fanfic #ninjago 10th anniversary #happy 10 year anniversary

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

Deep into the Wilderness

Words: 4.7k (this was supposed to be short but, alas, i am an asshole)

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen :0, dubious consent (see: sex pollen), a bit of size kink ö, multiple orgasms :O, light descriptions of blood, magic nature if you’re in the mood, incredible coincidences if you’re not

a/n: i genuinely thought this would be a lil drabble :/, also fuck snakes all my homies hate snakes

There’s something wrong about the stars.

Nights in the Tatooine desert are usually dim and still, as stoic as the Mandalorian who’s been journeying across the endless dune sea with you in your little caravan of two. These past few days, you’ve noticed that the jagged difference between coarse sand and smooth beskar are no obstacle for his ability to blend perfectly into his surroundings. For days, you’ve seen the bounty hunter cruise the barren wilderness like he was born in it, climbing the mounds of sand leisurely and offering his hand when the treacherous ground gives in under your feet and you tumble forward. Ever the gentleman. Silent and observant, he tends to adapt to the elements around him and mimic their energy, until he becomes part of the landscape. Tonight is no different.

The normally scattered and shy desert stars have all gathered in a cluster right above your modest campsite, blinking down at you white and yellow and red against an electric blue sky, bright enough to spare the need of a fire. You feel watched. The stars’ ghoulish eyes above trail your every movement. Waiting to witness something.

Yes, a meek voice inside lies for you, it must be the stars, as you purposefully try to ignore the crushing weight of the Mandalorian’s trained gaze on you, much heavier than the strong beskared arm resting on your upright knee. The tube of bacta ointment moves awkwardly under your fingers and, Maker, you know it won’t be enough. The small holes on the wool covering his arm reveal two angry red pupils gushing blood where the snake’s fangs pierced him; pupils that stare amused at the medical salve that they know and you know and Mando knows will do little neutralize the unknown toxin. You sit so close to him you can hear the hitch of his breath when you pinch the tube and white balm oozes onto your finger.

“I—Mando, I-I think we should get help.” It doesn’t help your nerves that the man to your left hasn’t stopped staring at you since the ruby red viper appeared from under the sand like a conjuring, going straight for the Mandalorian’s arm and slithering back inside its hiding place beneath the dunes before either of you could react. It was unnatural; desert creatures tend to linger in the shadows and never attack unless provoked. Then again, everything about this particular evening—including the bounty hunter—seems to be slightly off, like when something in a familiar place is moved, but you can’t figure out exactly what.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” the voice under the modulator scratches at a lower register than usual, gruffier in a way that would excite you and warm your belly if you weren’t so worried about the liquid currently poisoning his bloodstream. It must be the pain. “Two days by foot to the nearest town. Just use the bacta.”

You gulp and nod as firmly as you can manage, trying to quiet the whisper saying that bacta won’t cut it this time as you get your finger closer to his arm. It’s strange that he asked for your help—the bite is right on the pulse point of his inner elbow, where he could easily do it himself. Maker, just focus. He must have had a good reason to ask you. Plus, you’re not about to miss the promise of even the slightest physical contact with the Mandalorian, even if the situation is not exactly as you’ve fantasized all these months.

Your finger presses lightly into one of the gaps, and with a bit more force when you hear a raggedy exhale leave him. The opening the snake left behind is too small for your finger, and most of the bacta gathers around its edges, while barely any gets to the wound.

“I, um…I need to cut it—t-the fabric,” you stutter and, stars, you sound like an idiot, getting nervous over applying balm when you’ve seen him cauterize his own injuries with a steady hand, much to your horror. You can feel the way his eyes feed from your words as they study you carefully, somehow strengthening the gravity pining you to the ground. A strange static crinkles in the air between you, so real you almost hear it, and for a moment you feel the weight of his stare move past your face, lower down your body. By the time he finally nods and signals towards the open medical kit with a tilt of his helmet, you’re warm all over.

Stretching your torso just the right amount so that his arm doesn’t slip from your knee, you reach straight for the scissors in front of you. Your fingers pinch the fabric to lift it while your other hand works the clippers, cutting with tiny snip-snip-snips that do little to fill the tense silence between you. Why it’s even tense to begin with is beyond you. Sure, Mando got bitten by some unknown creature that could potentially be lethal, but the invisible rope getting stretched from both ends more and more between your bodies has little to do with the mishap. Stars, it feels like it’s pulling you closer and pushing you apart at the same time, and the arm on your knee suddenly feels like it’s burning through your pants. What would happen, you muse as you crank your wrist, if the rope gave in?

The scissors close their circuit, and you lift a small circle of cloth, leaving the clippers aside. It’s a little bigger than it needed to be, but the Mandalorian doesn’t complain when you properly apply bacta on the lesion, sitting like a statue with the visor shining dark blue at your face. The stars reflect distorted on his helmet with judging eyes, like they can hear your thoughts. Like they just know how being so close to the man you think about to warm cold nights is making your heart pump more blood that you need. To places that definitely don’t need it.

You raise your other hand and rest it on his bicep. It’s only to pull the sleeve a little higher. To give you more room to work. And it’s only with that touch that he flinches.

You immediately lift both hands. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry, does…does it hurt—?”

“—No.” Mando moves his good arm and grabs your hand roughly, bringing it to rest on his bicep once again. He clears his throat, unable to wash away the grainy strain on his voice. “No, it—it’s fine.” His large palm stays over yours for a moment, before pulling away slowly. Reluctantly.

You nod and continue your ministrations, massaging a little more bacta than necessary on the bite. Maker, you never want to stop touching him. The patch of olive skin burns hotter than the planet’s twin suns under your touch, and you feel under your other hand how every shift of your finger makes his bicep jump in response.

His flesh absorbs the ointment fast, and you’ve now covered even the surrounding area around the bite, so you lift your finger, a bit disappointed that your little moment of intimacy is over. Until you feel him tug at his end of the rope.

“Cut more,” he breathes, and you freeze before you can lift the hand off his arm, staring right at the visor with eyes round as moons.

“Cut—cut more? More cloth? Wh—”

“The venom will travel up my veins.” Mando’s voice is a little steadier, but it still doesn’t mask a strange tint of something that doesn’t sound quite like pain. “You need to check how far up it goes. If…if it goes into my chest…”

He doesn’t need to finish. You shuffle to your knees—a little clumsily because of the sand beneath—and let his arm fall to his side as you squeeze his strong bicep a little tighter. For support.

“Tell me when to stop.” The blades cut away at the fabric, revealing a vertical line of lovely skin with each snip. They go higher and higher, higher and higher, and it’s you who decides to stop when they almost reach his armpit. You rest the scissors next to your legs. The slit uncovers the upper half of his arm’s underside, and you can’t help it when one hand moves to rest on the pauldron and the other slips under the crevice to caress his skin.

Mando’s chest puffs with more air and moves quicker, and—fuck—he looks so broad like this. Sitting and injured, he still towers over you with the beskar and the mass of muscle beaten into him through years of fighting.

He could crush me. The idea pools hot in your core.

“What, uh, what am I looking for?” Your own voice is thick. It’s wrong, but you’re honest enough to admit it’s arousal.

“T-the veins.” You hear him gulp and imagine the apple on his throat bobbing up and down. “Feel around. Che—check if they’re protruding.” You comply, dragging your fingers up and down his burning, strong arm, getting caught up in how he tenses under your touch. He’s pulsing, sure enough, beating like a drum under your hand—you even manage to raise goosebumps when you give a test squeeze—but you can’t feel any veins.

“No.” The hunter exhales with relief and nods once, but his arm doesn’t follow, as it remains taut as wood. You don’t remove your hand. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into you.

An soft breeze raises a small cloud of sand and cools your face, whistling past you while it orders you to do it. “If it’s not pain,” you murmur, deciding it’s your turn to tense your end of the rope a little, “what do you feel?” You scratch your nails down his arm.

The gloved hand furthest away from you balls into a fist, clutching sand. “It—it, uh. It burns.” The words are dragged out and gritty, like they’re forcing their way out. He shivers and shuffles closer to you. “But—fuck—feels good. You—you feel good.” Encouraged, your nails sink into his flesh, testing the waters. Finally, it earns you a grunt, deep and rumbling its way between your thighs. In a split second, his arms fly to his shoulder, tugging at the cloak desperately, and you remove your hand from the opening to help him. It takes a few rough jerks, but the cloak eventually rips away from his pauldrons, and the Mandalorian throws it back. His hand travels to the side of his torso closest to you and signals. “Cut here.” He doesn’t offer an explanation this time.

Shit, you probably shouldn’t. But wetness is gathering around your folds and you’re not sure if you’ll actually get anywhere, but, Maker, you’re willing to try. Your hand is trembling when it finds the scissors next to you and you crouch slightly to cut away, eager and desperate to reveal more of the mysterious bounty hunter. This time, though, you don’t make a crevice, but instead cut a long rectangle from his waist to the side of his chest. You drop the scissors and the piece of fabric on top of the cloak and waste no time before your right palm crawls into the opening. Boiling skin welcomes your hand as it explores his naked torso, up a sturdy chest rising and falling rapidly, and back down again, savoring the sensation of soft skin over firm muscles flexing under your fingers. You stop at a trail of hair near his navel.

The Mandalorian growls. You scratch the hair lightly. The rope snaps.

Your hand slips outside when two hands grab your hips to lift you, setting you down to straddle Mando’s lap. You fall ungracefully, wobbling and grabbing at him to find your balance, until his steel arms wrap around your waist to press your chest to his. You grab his shoulders for support, and your warm breath clouds the beskar of his helmet. Your hips squirm unconsciously, making your core accidentally rub against something hard between the hunter’s legs. His grip on your back tightens and grinds you against him again, making him release a deep, primal moan against your ear. Fuck, you feel how hot liquid plops on your underwear as he ruts you against his erection, but somewhere in the back of your brain a puzzle solves itself in a snap and sends a pang of guilt to your chest.

“M-mando.” You sound whinier than you intended. “Mmando, I—I’ve heard about this, you’re poisoned, y-you don’t know what you’re d—”

“—Shut up,” he spits at you and pushes you roughly against him as a hand unwinds from your waist and wraps over your mouth. Your moans are muffled against his glove when a current shocks your body as your clit rubs just right over his bulge. You glance up at the stars, looking for guidance around the overwhelming pleasure threatening to break you, but they only stare back, burning brighter than before.

Suddenly, Mando pulls his hands away and pushes you off his lap. You fall back kneeling, worrying you’ve crossed a line somehow, but your anxieties disappear when you see him rip off his gloves and pull at your clothes hastily. You take the hint and help him undress you. The top garments he removes, but your underwear is ripped away and thrown to the side.

He whips around and finds his cloak, laying it on the sand and silently ordering with a finger to get on top. You shuffle on your knees until they reach the soft material, and—just when you’re about to turn around and beg him to touch you—the Mandalorian lifts the rectangle of cloth you cut away and wraps it around your eyes. Your vision gone but impossibly turned on, you feel his hands shove you back until you lay on the cloak.

Sand and hair tickle your face, and maybe it’s not the best idea to lay completely naked in the middle of a desert where you already know dangerous animals hide. The thought is quickly washed away by the heat of humid breath on your stomach. It throws you off for a moment, to feel a human gasp so clearly against your skin, but once you put two and two together the realization hits you so hard you slump limp on the ground.

The helmet…

You barely have time complete your thought. The Mandalorian climbs on top of you, a tuff of hair tickling your stomach. The trail of heat stops at your tits, where he takes a nipple into his mouth and bites down hard. You whimper to the sky.

“F-fuck, what—” He cuts you off when he laps at the injured nipple with fast, wide strokes of his tongue, before sucking hard on it. One palm holds down your chest, as the other comes up to squeeze your other breast, kneading and pulling the soft flesh like dough. You try to bite down your whimpers, but it’s too fucking much and they tumble outside urgent and needy.

Fuck, you should push him away. You both need to calm down before he forgets your body is attached to a living, breathing person and tears you apart. You—you—

The atmosphere seems to fall down on top of you when two thick fingers sink to the hilt inside your open hole effortlessly. You hum at the bliss while Mando’s wet tongue travels between your breasts, up your sternum, and leans into the curve of your throat, stopping only until it reaches your chin. You’re starting to cramp beneath him, trying to push down on his digits, but his body is too heavy over yours and fuck, fuck, you want him inside you.

His hand wraps around your cheeks and presses them together, making your mouth give in to the pressure and open up wide. His tongue—still salty with the taste of your own flesh—barges into the cave of your mouth and messily drags across its walls, your tongue, the roof, somehow everything at once with aimless movements that lack rhythm or pace.

And then his fingers start pumping. They start fast and hard and only get faster and harder, as they curl into a hook and hit something that makes you see the stars outside through the blindfold. Mando moans against your teeth, and you swallow every vibration.

“Yeah? T-there?” His mouth moves away from yours and trails the edge of your jaw, stopping at the edge and biting your neck. The two fingers working inside you push upwards to make room for a third one, and the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your clit up and down. Your scream echoes in the empty space of the sterile desert, now buzzing with life. “R-right there? Hm?” His voice hangs thick in the air, mixing with the loud static in your ears. Through the haze, you wonder momentarily what his face looks like right now. Probably red and sweaty, popping a vein or two.

“Fuck, I don’t k-know…I—I have to…” The Mandalorian removes all three fingers at once, making you yelp at the emptiness that they leave behind. Your pussy clenches a second too late and pulses around nothing, as you move in the darkness to find him again. You open your mouth to beg, but he grabs your shoulders before you can even gather some broken vocabulary together and he turns you around, pressing your chest and face against the cloak.

Resting your cheek on the cloak, you grunt at the abrupt change of position. Five fanned out fingers press down between your shoulder blades, restricting your movements and compressing all the air out of your lungs. You can’t breathe and you can’t wait, too stimulated to backpedal now, but not enough to be satiated.

An arm wraps around your midriff and roughly lifts your hips. You hear heavy breathing behind you and some incoherent mumbling, as a zipper lowers.

Something round and smooth pokes at your entrance.

Is…is that…?

It definitely feels like the head of his cock as it runs up and down your folds gathering moisture. It even twitches a little against your clit and he’s grunting with every movement but…but even without your sight to help it feels so big. It can’t be his cock, in what universe would he be that fucking bi—

A grunt and a slight retrieval of his hips for impulse is all you get as a warning before he slams into you, lurching you forward. It knocks every single thought out your head, jamming what little air you’d managed to inhale on your trachea. The stretch bites, straining against your walls at an uncomfortable angle. And then he grinds further inside, deeply and hard as the bulbous head of his cock stimulates just about every nerve inside your pussy at once. You choke on your own cry, desperately trying to hold on to some sanity as you focus on processing the burst of pleasure that casts a dark shadow over the pain. The feeling secures every muscle on your body so tightly you think your spine is going to snap.

And he holds there, pulsing angrily and breathing down hot against your shoulders. You feel a slow trail of flames burn your insides with every strong sequence of thum-thum-thums of his thick cock against your walls.

Stars, did he cum? Is that why he’s throbbing so violently, did he cum? It’s hard to tell when you’re so wet you’re sure you’re going to dehydrate tomorrow and fuck you only get wetter with the strumming and Maker you know the snake was poisonous but…but could he really want you this much?

He sucks in a gulp of dusty air through his teeth, grunts and holds you tighter, his arm strong as beskar around your midriff and a burning palm pressing you against the cloak, sinking it deeper into the sand.

Finally, the Mandalorian pulls out with a grunt, your hips following his with a sucking sound because of the grip of your walls against his girth. He stops right before the tip slips out, its ridge catching on your opening. And maybe whatever venom running through his veins dissipated because he doesn’t move for a second that feels like an eternity. Fleeting disappointment surges inside you because maybe…maybe it was just the serpent. Maybe he doesn’t really want you. You are the only fuckable thing for miles, and you’ve heard enough about the toxin to imagine how desperate he’d be. Stars, you feel like such an idi—

Mando’s hips suddenly crash against yours, sinking himself to the hilt.

You feel him everywhere. Fucking everywhere, even where he isn’t. The fat cock hammering into you randomly with no pace or metric, seemingly determined to taste every inch inside your cunt takes most of your attention, but the hand on your back kneads and pulls the thin skin there as best as it can. You try to brace yourself against something solid—anything—but when your hands form fists they find only handfuls of sand, and the delicate particles do nothing to steady you from the animalistic thrusts of the Mandalorian.

So you moan, long and high to try and release all the pleasure stockpiling inside of you with no exit routes. Mando answers with grunts all the way down in his glottis. A deep and angled snap of his hips hits you somewhere electrifying, and you feel something hot and liquid knot your pelvic muscles tighter. His skin slaps against yours obscenely, paired with the squelching of your pussy trying to engulf him deeper and deeper in spite of his size.

“T-take it,” you hear him growl behind you. Barely. Your ears ring and you can’t even listen to your own whimpers anymore. His length keeps coming, restless and infinite and fuck, you need to focus on something else, something outside to keep your head from slipping away. “Just—just f-fucking take me whole, you—"

Fuck, focus. Focus, count to ten, do something—

You grit your teeth and you can’t even warn him. Something drops into your pelvic muscles and you swear you can see the blue desert sky in a flash behind your eyelids and feel the blinking stars prickling the nerve endings on your back, making you spasm desperately. Your head spins, and you only feel pleasure. Only him.

Still half-passed out from your release, you hear it before you feel it. The wet sound contrasting the dry dunes of how he keeps using your cunt to get himself off. He’s not letting you come down, fall to the natural next step of your cycle and relax. Breathe. No, he keeps filling every last inch of you, faster now with the help of the additional wetness and holds you in that state of euphoria that keeps hitting you like a tide. Shit, are you cumming again?

“F-fuck—fuck—d-did you—ngh—cum? W-was that—” Another wave hits you and you clamp down mercilessly around him before he can get an answer. His long moan gets you wetter somehow, and you can’t even savor it before the strong forearm holding your waist pulls you upright against him.

Up is down as you try to figure out in the darkness where your body ended up. Something slumps behind you and pulls you down with it hard against the cushioning of the sand. You find yourself impaled on the Mandalorian’s cock, his chest to your back. He bends and opens his legs to grab yours, pulling them back and hooking them around his cuisses. Propped up with most of your weight on Mando’s hips, your feet barely graze the cloak below them.

You reach up to touch him but he beats you to it, wrapping his arms around your torso and grabbing the surely bruising skin of your tits. Your eyes roll back and you try you best to keep your head above the water, which proves incredibly difficult when you feel his lips on your jaw, his drool trailing down your neck. You turn your head and he doesn’t miss a beat before his tongue slips between your lips, tasting and exploring and almost drinking from you like you’re water in he’s been stranded in this desert for years.

Mando thrust up at you, resuming his senseless fucking. And maybe you’re a little greedy. Maybe it’s wrong, especially because you don’t have an excuse to act like this, but you roll down into his cock, wanting him everywhere and for as long as you can get him. His thrusts are almost impossible to meet and his thickness catches at your opening, but you work diligently—determined to have him buried as deeply as he wants to go. The beskar of his chest trembles against your shoulders with a vibrating, noiseless moan.

“You—you pretty t-thing,” he breathes lowly against your mouth. You grab his knees for support and push down harder. “I’ve want—wanted this—w-wanted you f-for so—so long.” He bites your lower lip. His voice sounds delirious.

Maker, it’s ridiculous. You’re bouncing your pussy on his stiff cock like an animal in heat, but his words warm your chest more than your core. You know it’s probably the poison talking, but you indulge in it. You let your hand cradle his cheek and bring your lips sweetly against his, pretending you’re his lover and not just a vessel for his release. He gasps into the kiss.

It’s with your lips that he finally lets go. It happens midthrust, so his cum spurts out of you and dribbles down his cock. It smears on your folds and, surely, on the cloak beneath. Stars, you’re shaking. Your legs spasm with the promise of another orgasm that almost—almost happened. Still holding you, Mando pulls out, and the rest of his seed spills on wool and sand.

What now? If not the sweat and the fucking, then his release surely evacuated the venom by now. The Mandalorian pants behind you, just as spent and exhausted, and what the hell are you supposed to say to each other now? You squirm uncomfortably at the dilemma, and your slit accidentally drags against something upright beneath you. Mando winces at the contact.

Maker, is he still hard? How—?

Fingers dig into your arms and force you forward and away from him. You fall on top of the cloak, barely pillowing your fall with your forearms before you feel the Mandalorian turning you around to face him.

You lay open below him, ruined and confused in the darkness as to what he’s planning for you next. Your clit pulses with equal parts arousal and apprehension at the uncertainty, but it decides for the former when you feel him dip his fingers in your entrance and scoop his cum and yours. The sound of him pumping himself faster and faster is muffled by his moaning. It’s filthy gibberish: loose words of everything he’s dreamt about doing to you; of how he’s going to fuck you over and over again; of how you’re going to take every drop of him; of how good it’s going to be for you.

Four fingers land on your clit and work it wetly up and down. A whine escapes you and you’re so sensible it almost hurts and your head swims and he’s still talking but there’s something…something sincere about his words. Something that hides beneath the frantic movements against your bud that feels almost reverent. Like the snake’s toxin only lifted a veil, revealing the Mandalorian’s pent up lust and primal instincts below his layers of unyielding discipline.

“S-so, so fucking good for me, so—"

You cry out when your walls tighten around nothing with powerful contractions, deciding at some point of the frenzy that consumes you that you’ll take advantage of this queer land and the limbo its night has thrown both of you into. Deciding you’ll let the Mandalorian explore his more primitive urges and fuck you into tomorrow, whatever “tomorrow” may mean for your relationship with him.

The sound of him fucking his hand quickens and you hear it closer to your body. You can’t tell exactly where.

“I—I—gonna c-cum.” His voice tightens in his throat. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” you answer breathlessly, and you mean it.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian sex pollen #star wars smut

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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The Servant and The Prince | Five

Wow wow wow this is late but I hope with it being late that I have had the extra time needed to make it good. Please do enjoy lovelies-- and expect big things for the next chapter!

Description: This is very much a Cinderella trope because I cannot help myself and I am in love with Loki, chapter five

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, third person as I may adapt eventually with an OC

Warnings: anger, mention of bruises / abuse

Tags: angst, fluff

Word count: 6.6k (consider this my apology for the late chapter)

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Master List

“On the balcony,” Frigga calls back, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. “We have company!” She adds, seemingly as an after thought— she is too busy pouring wine from a glass feeder into a beautifully ornate cup.

At least, Y/n thinks it is wine. She can smell the fermented berries— sweet and tangy and warming her nose as all wines she has encountered before have— only this wine is a pale violet shade. It is not an opaque rouge, not a barely there chartreuse. Nothing like what she has ever been able to get her hands on by way of bartering or shared celebration. Weddings and births. She takes a seat in one of the golden chairs, trying not to think about how out of her element she truly is. The little details are starting to show though. Not just extravagant pools and marble hallways. Even the food here is luxurious.

The Queen presses the cup into her fingers. She is not expecting the weight of it— the way her hand drops a fraction before she thinks to tense her wrist— she has never held pure gold before, not this much of it all at once. “Drink, dear. It will return some of the color to your face.”

She nods at Frigga, hoping her small smile will convey her thanks in lieu of her absent tongue. Speechless does not even begin to cover the way she feels.

“She is right—” the smooth, deep voice interrupts, his words coated with mirth— “it is what I do.”

Heavy footsteps fall behind her, thundering through the quiet chamber. She hears the water in the pool slosh lightly, the rose oil swirling out to the balcony. It makes her feel woozy— like she is already intoxicated despite not having touched her wine.

“No what you do is something else entirely,” Frigga giggles, raising her own chalice to her lips.

That is what these are called, right? Cup seems like too plain a word for something as extravagant. Chalice is luxurious— foreign to her daily life which makes it perfect. She raises her chalice too, taking the first sip of her violet liquid. Her eyes blow wide as she does so, a tarte berry sweetness bursting across her tongue. She almost chokes from how rapidly it takes over her senses, almost painting her vision in a matching purple hue. The liquid is warm as it trickles down her throat and blossoms that same warmth through her chest. It is magnificent— it is new— it makes the racing thoughts in her head slow to a honey crawl. She has to force herself not to down the whole cup immediately, wanting nothing more than to make them stop completely.

“If you say so, mother.” His laugh is almost as booming as his footsteps— it is how she pictures a giant’s laugh would sound, all heavy and dense, weighing across her shoulders like a wet blanket. It is less uncomfortable than that though. It makes her smile. That could just be the wine though.

She takes another sip, as the man finally emerges from behind her, his large body stepping into the sunlight like he is stepping into a second skin. In that moment she is grateful for the warmth in her chest and the way the wine adds a layer of lead to her bones for without it she would surely topple out of her chair in fright. The wine is like a barrier, though, stopping her common sense from leaking through. It makes sense, now, why she had pictured a giant— he is one.

She has to crane her neck to meet his blue eyes. When she finally does she decides that they match his mother’s. So does his blonde hair but it is a little more honey, a little less golden. Just as soft looking. His skin is golden though. It looks like he spends every waking hour in sunlight— no, it looks like he is sunlight. If sunlight was a person it would be this man. His mouth cracks open in a wide grin, his ivory teeth sparkling, as though he can hear her thoughts and agrees.

Frigga rolls her crystal eyes, an action so out of place alongside her more gentle movements. “Do introduce yourself before our guest starts to believe that I have not taught you manners.”

“I was getting there,” the giant insists to his mother. He bends at the waist, reaching for her hand which he engulfs in his surprisingly soft hands. He brings her knuckles to his lips— which are also soft but less surprisingly so— kissing them gently. “I am Thor, Odin’s Son, welcome to my home.”

Again, if it were not for the wine she would surely topple out of her chair. “Thank you. I am Y/n.”

Her voice sounds so small compared to his. Meek. She feels like a mouse sitting next to a lion. Perhaps it does not help that he is standing but she doubts that him sitting down will do much to remedy the difference. Spare a growth potion there is nothing she can do to match his build.

“How fitting—” he takes a seat in the chair across from her, squeezing his mother’s shoulder as he does so. Frigga smiles at him, a glint in her eyes— “a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Y/n’s cheeks fill with heat. Beautiful? Her? No certainly not. He must say that to all the women he meets. She steals another tiny glance at him while he speaks quietly with his mother. His skin looks even more golden in the light. His honey hair looks sweet enough to catch flies. Or women. Probably more so women. She drops her gaze back to the table, her fingers teasing the cool metal of her chalice. He definitely knows his way around the ladies. Still, she tucks the comment into the back of her mind for a later time. It is nice to be complimented, even if it is perhaps less than authentic.

Frigga turns away from her son, her eyes softening once more. “Tell me about yourself, my dear. Have you come all this way for the ball? That was quite a few bags you brought with you earlier.”

Much like her cheeks, her ears flood with heat as well. Unlike a moment ago, however, it is not the soft kind of embarrassment. Her blush is not a kind one. She would rather dig herself into the ground then explain that she is a servant. Her stomach fills with butterflies. Their wings beat with a vengeance, absorbing the heat of the berry wine like nectar— like fuel.

“Well, no, not exactly, your High—” She stops herself this time, taking a sip of the traitorous wine in an attempt to cull the fluttering in her chest. “Frigga. Those were not all mine. I do not think I will be attending the ball actually.”

She tries to say it casually— perhaps if she feigns indifference then it will sound as though it is her choice. Frigga narrows her brows, lifting a dark violet berry to her lips. Like a candle sparking into flame, it dawns on her what she has been consuming. Blackberries. Her eyes dart back down to the table. She tries not to let her jaw drop when she sees the magnificent spread of food that was not there only moments ago. Sliced meats and cheeses, fluffy white bread— all she has back home is the tough, grainy kind— and so many fruits she cannot even name them all. Most of all, though, there are heaps upon heaps of blackberries.

Frigga drags one of her delicate fingers across the corner of her lips where some of the dark juice has stained her otherwise immaculate skin. “Well certainly you must attend.”

Her ears burn hotter, her mouth filling once more with cotton. How is she supposed to explain to the Queen that she agrees but that she also cannot go.

“I agree,” Thor’s deep voice joins the conversation as he swallows a bite of that fluffy bread. “You must come! There will be dancing and food.” He throws a hand up when he mentions the food and she lets a small smile free wondering how much it takes to feed someone as massive as him. “I hear there will even be some suitable bachelors. I assure you— it will be a splendid evening, Milady.”

Her ears skip over the jest about the bachelors, hightailing right to his very last word. Milady. The butterflies consume the word faster than they do the wine. They are addicted to it. She thinks that she might be as well. It repeats in her head, bounding around in her mind, crashing into her skull. Milady, Milady, milady. She has never been called milady before. The more it echoes around her brain, the more disorientated it sounds. It blurs together, the vowels folding in on themselves. The butterflies do not seem to care though— they consume the fuel just the same. And the more they consume, the more she wants to throw them all up.

The line between Frigga’s brows deepens, her crystal eyes attentive. They seem to catch her every movement, down to the little shakes in her fingers as she closes them around her cup again. She does not take another sip— she is more than warm enough now— she just needs something to still her hands.

“Thor is right, dear. You would have a wonderful time.” She tilts her head, some of the crinkle returning to her eyes. “Besides, even if it is not for my sons you must go for me.”

Y/n nods— perhaps lying is the best course of action here. “For you, then.”

She pops a blackberry into her mouth for good measure.

Good measure or to keep from spilling the truth. Either way the berry is not as sweet as she would have thought it would be.

* * * * * * * * * *

The rest of the conversation passes easily after that, filled with Thor’s booming laughter and Frigga’s loving eye rolls. She does not speak that much, offering her input when asked directly or when goaded, but the royals do not seem to mind. It is a welcome reprieve from her usual days— the ones where she is yelled at for speaking and slapped for not speaking and insulted for everything else. Here she can laugh when she pleases, eat when she pleases, and exist how she pleases. She does quite a lot of the first two. The tangy berries grow on her. So does the wine. Honestly, the wine is probably the cause of her new fondness for the berries. It sweetens everything that touches her tongue. Before long her belly is full, her eyelids are heavy, and her tangy lips hurt from how much she has been smiling.

Thor takes his leave soon after the three of them finish eating, laying another of the knee weakening kisses to her knuckles and reminding her that he will be expecting to see her at the ball two nights hence. He also calls her Milady again, as though trying his hardest to slip it in there are many times as possible. Maybe he is trying to give her a heart attack. She would not mind that much if he was— she would not have to return to her tiresome, damaging life if she had a heart attack.

After Thor leaves, Y/n stands, her hands lingering on the solid golden chair, her chest getting increasingly heavier as the moments pass. “Thank you so much for your kindness, Frigga. This afternoon was wonderful.”

The blonde woman smiles, standing as well and stretching her arms gracefully over her head. “Oh, it was nothing. Are you leaving so soon, my dear?”

“I must,” Y/n tries to replicate the Queen’s smile despite the weight on her shoulders. “I have already taken too much of your time. You must be a very busy woman.”

Frigga laughs. “I am only busy when I want the Kingdom to run smoothly.” Her eyes flit to the waning sun, shaking her head slightly. Y/n wonders if she is supposed to see the small action. It seems personal. “I fear that unfortunately means you are correct.”

She nods, pulling away from the chair. “Then I will leave you to the Kingdom— it is certainly more important than I.”

Her words are airy, the smile on her face glued in place by sheer will. She likes the Queen so she will hold her carefree exterior to keep her from worrying. She does not need to ask to know that the Queen would worry— she is a mother. Her own mother would worry as well and she would feign the same calm to keep her from worrying the same way she is now. No matter how calm she looks on the outside, though, her stomach topples, like the churning waves she had passed earlier. The bile that she swallows is foamy. Salty.

She could cry.

Before she can, though, the Queen’s warm fingers curl around her icy wrist, the contrast making a shiver crest down her spine. How long has she been cold for?

“Dear you mustn’t leave until you try the pool. Really, I implore you, you will love it. I really must go but I will tell my maids to ensure that no one comes in here to disturb you. Only if you would like, of course?”

It feels like a dream, or maybe an extension of the dream she is currently in, but for a moment her leaden lungs expand enough to drag in a healthy amount of air. It is like a light in the darkness— another log to ensure the fire keeps burning for a little bit longer— and she is not about to let it pass her by. What is a few more hours anyway— she is already going to be crawling away from the next meeting with her step mother.

She hopes the relief is not too distinguishable in her voice and eyes when she answers. “Are you sure, Frigga? I would not want to impose on your hospitality.”

Frigga does not answer— not at first. Not before her slender arms wrap around Y/n and she pulls her into her flowery chest. For a moment she is frozen, her arms hanging limp at her sides. She does not even breath— she does not know if she can. The warmth that seeps into her skin is both painfully familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It makes her ten again. She is no longer standing in the Queen of Asgard’s chambers but in her little wooden house.

And she is not alone.

“My little dove come here will you?” Her mother calls to her from the kitchen. Perhaps she needs help icing the little cakes. Y/n hopes so— licking the icing spoon afterwards is her favourite thing.

She hurries into the warm room, the smell of cooked strawberries and sweet icing sugar wrapping around her bare arms. She had been fishing with her father earlier in the day and her cardigan had become dirty so she had stripped and left it to hang on the line outside before coming in for the evening.

“Would you like to help me?” Her mother’s eyes sparkle like two diamonds, crinking at the corners as she holds a spoon out.

She takes the spoon eagerly, stepping up to the table where a dozen of her favourite little cakes are layed out. She closes her eyes, breathing in the sugar. It is perhaps her favourite smell in the world. Her favourite smell doing her favourite thing with her favourite person. Well, spare her father of course, but he does not much care for baking.

“Little dove you know how much I love you right?”

She sneaks a lick of the icing spoon, giggling when her mother tickles under her chin. “I know, mama.”

Her mother grabs another spoon and one of the little cakes, setting to work as well. “How much do I love you?”

“To Midgard and back!” Y/n giggles. She does not quite know what it means but her mother has been telling her that for as long as she can remember.

Her mother nods, some of the hair spilling out of the braids along the side of her head and curling across her brows. Her smile is so bright that Y/n wonders if they even need the gas lamp. Surely her mother could light up the room fine on her own.

“That’s right, to Midgard and back.” Her mother presses a kiss to her forehead. “And back and back and back!”

She lifts her head, blinking the fog from her vision and clearing away the memory. When her senses return to her she finds her arms wrapped around the Queen’s waist so tight it feels as though she might break the tiny woman. She lets go immediately, taking a few steps back, her eyes shooting wide. She can still feel the heavy warmth of her mother’s kitchen on her skin— still smell the cooked strawberries— and her chest jolts painfully. If only her ten year old self had known that would be one of the last moments her mother would truly be herself again then maybe she would have kissed her forehead too.

“I am sorry, Frigga. I think I am just tired from the journey here.” She sputters out. The words sound mushy and garbled, her throat closing around each syllable, trying to swallow them before they can push past her lips.

The tears she had wanted to let out before rise so quickly to her eyes that she does not know what to do but look at the stone under her feet and hope Frigga does not notice. It must be her lucky day because all the Queen does is place her hand on her shoulder. She does not try to seek out her eyes.

“There is nothing to be sorry for. My sons do not hug me nearly as much as they used to—” Y/n tries to keep her shoulders from shaking as Frigga’s voice washes over her, soft and gentle like her mother’s used to, watching as the stone becomes wet and darkens. “I think a bath would help you greatly— warm water always helps clear my mind. Maybe you will find something you are looking for in the process.”

Y/n nods, her chin dipping against her throat. The Queen squeezes her shoulder once, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She has to hold her breath to keep from sobbing. It fights against her lungs though and she is sure Frigga can feel the way her chest jerks, fighting her from the inside. Frigga sighs and she watches as her feet leave her line of sight, her heels clicking on the marble as she goes to leave. It is only when she hears the heavy wooden door thunk closed does she move, the scream ripping from her throat so loudly she does not doubt that the Queen— no, the whole castle— hears it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Loki looks everywhere. Everywhere. Every corridor, every entrance, every dining room. He knocks on every damn chamber door. He never knocks— he never has to— but this time he does. The amount of faces he encounters is endless, most of them women, all of them speechless. He is not surprised to see so many women— nor is he surprised when they scramble to put sentences together in his presence, stuttering through their answers. To be fair, he does not really ask them anything. He knocks on the doors, looks at the stunned faces, and then, after feeling none of the warmth he is looking for— none of the sparks— he nods at them and continues his search.

As his search deepens, the minutes dissolving quickly into hours, his chest begins to feel like it is caving in on itself. The cavern walls of his lungs shift closer and closer together, beared on by a sourceless weight. It is invisible and it is heavy and it makes his head sting. By the time he gets to the last door he is pretty sure his lungs are incapable of filling completely. He fights to draw in a breath but the pressure is so intense that he has to throw a hand against the stone wall to keep from sinking to his knees. He is drowning in oxygen and yet cannot seem to suck in a single drop.

By the time he reaches the final door his head is foggy and his chest is burning. The remaining air that he has managed to hold onto turns on him more with every step, forming a mutiny and staging a siege in his body. The air fights against his lungs, banging on his windpipe, demanding to be let free. In what manner it wants to escape, he does not know. Probably loudly. He has never wanted to scream more than he does in this very moment— to let every building tension in his body free until his throat is raw. He can practically taste the metal on his tongue. The anger.

The blood.

Loki swallows hard, the action more painful than he would have ever thought, and blinks a few times before raising a fist of steel to the final door and knocking twice. He steps back after he does, giving whoever is inside room to speak to him. He hears a commotion, the hushed and quick murmurs of people, and scurried footsteps. Barely a second passes before the heavy wood slides open and reveals two women.

One of them is a scrawny blonde. Her limbs and face are boney, her fingers long and slender. Her hair drapes down her back, tangling with the ribbons that are keeping her corset tied so tight he wonders if she— like he— is finding it hard to breathe. Obviously it would be for opposite reasons. She is clearly choosing to be breathless— not being crushed under the weight of being so close and yet so far from her soulmate. He narrows his eyes at the girl, lingering on the sharpness to her. There is not a single soft feature about her— he strongly doubts she is hiding a pair of magic thighs underneath her dress. Definitely not her.

The blonde cowers slightly, her eyes flashing with recognition as her thin shoulders drawing into a tight point as she bows her head. He sighs— he does not have time for this. He almost forgot about the ridiculous ball and the actual reason why there were so many young women in his castle right now. Some of them had not recognized him— he is not his brother, after all. Thor would have been recognized in a heartbeat. Him, though, not so much. As much as it would make his blood boil any other time, right now he dreads the thought of enduring the conversation to come. He does not care to speak to hundreds of women; he is too busy trying to locate one.

He cringes when another woman joins, this one older than the blonde, her hair a dulling shade of red and her eyes are lined with wrinkles. Her mother, he assumes. She, too, sinks into a curtsey, the heavy jewels on her throat clinking as she does so. He can hear the gears turning in her head— see the same recognition as her daughter mingled with something else— something vaguely sinister— and the weight on his chest presses harder into him. So does the anger.

Odin, he does not have time for this!

The older woman rises first, her smile slick with the same slyness that clouds her eyes. “Your highness! How gracious of you to greet us before the ball.”

The anger grows— hot, heavy, and blinding— and he has to squeeze his fists to keep from baring his teeth at the woman. It surprises him, his instant hatred for her. He is not someone who makes friends easily— a choice he makes happily— but he is also not someone who wishes to kill people within seconds of encountering them— especially not women. There is something about this woman though that makes his vision tint black at the edges.

“It is nothing, madame.” He nods, his tone an icy, flat bite.

Much to his disappointment, the woman does not flinch. Her daughter does, the blonde’s shoulders catching like they have been snagged from behind, her neck remaining dropped in a bow. At least one of them is smart. Her mother does not seem to agree, her red heel sliding across the marble to jolt into her ankle. Loki squeezes his fists. How much longer must this go on?

“Anna—” the dull redhead’s voice is pinched as though she is trying to conceal her frustration— “do you have anything to say to the Prince.”

The blonde flinches at the contact, her head drawing up, her eyes clouded over with panic. He does not know who she is more afraid of in that moment— him or her mother. His chest still does not warm for her though, fear or no fear.

“Thank you.” She chokes out and he nods again— he does not want to kill her the same way he does her mother but the lines are getting hazy from the lack of oxygen he is breathing.

“Thank you is right.” The redhead’s wicked smile widens and his vision flashes.

He takes another step back, biting his tongue. The mutiny continues to rage in his chest, climbing up his sternum, stabbing holes in his jaw. He cannot hold it back for much longer— he does not really want to. But he is a Prince and he must, if not for him than for his mother. An image of Frigga flashes through his mind and, moments later, a plan. With both in his mind he is able to suck in half a breath. It stuns the insurrection inside him for a moment and hardens his resolve— he has to get to her.

He straightens his shoulders, lifting his chin higher, revelling in the way the redhead finally shrinks away from him. “If you will kindly excuse me.”

Loki does not waste time waiting for their responses, he only spins on his heel and struts away. The walk to his mother’s chambers is quick. Usually he would linger, skimming his fingers over the marble banister and peering out towards the sea. He has spent many days locked in a staring contest with the waves. Usually he wins— they are always blinking their foamy eyes at him. Today he does not spare them a glance. They will be there tomorrow. She might not be.

He turns the corner quickly. Too quickly. He honestly is not aware of how fast he is moving until his body slams into something small but strong. He grunts, shuffling backwards until he glimpses at blonde hair and two familiar crystal eyes. He chooses to ignore the half-hearted fury in them, opting instead to grab his mother’s shoulders.

Frigga curls her hands over her son's arms, the fury melting to something more concerned. “Loki what on Asgard are you doing—”

“Mother, I need you to tell me where she is.” He pleads— breathes— not waiting for the end of her sentence to tilt into a question like he knows it will.

Her shoulders drop under her palms in a sigh that he senses coming. “I have already told you all that I can— all that I know. Even if I did know more you know that I could not tell you without putting you and her—” she pauses, raising a golden brow in what he assumes is an attempt to make him listen. It only serves to make his chest squeeze— “in danger.”

He squeezes his eyes closed, his eyelids crushing together the same way his teeth do as he grits his answer out. “I can protect us both, mother, I just need—”

The rest of his sentence is drowned by a scream that rips through every fibre in his being. For a moment it even feels as though it is coming from him, burning like bile up his throat and tearing like knives through his eardrums. It stings so much— how could it not be his scream? But then he closes his mouth, slamming his hands against his ears, and he can still hear the feral wails slicing at him through the barrier of his skin. He peels his eyes open, searching for the source of the noise but coming up empty— the only other person around remains his mother whose mouth— while drawn into a deep frown— is also closed.

“Faen!” He curses, not sure if it is as quiet as it seems to his own ears or if he just cannot hear his own voice over the violent screams. “Mother I— It hurts I—”

“Loki?” Frigga’s voice barely cuts through the howling but he can still decipher the worry in her tone.

For the second time in less than a week’s cycle, his knees touch the ground. It is a sight that has even his mother lost for words, her mouth falling open at her usually proud son forced into a bow. Loki never kneels. Now he has kneeled twice for a woman he has yet to even properly meet. Something familiar prickles against the back of his neck, right where the top of his spine meets his skull— right where the wails zero on him. Somewhere in the fever pitch he finds the very thing that has been haunting him for an entire sun cycle. Please Surtr. With the realization his own screams claw at his chest, begging to join in with their match.

It is her.

Loki rises, pushing off the marble floor and staggering forward. It is not an easy task, he feels like everything around him is fighting against his movements, pushing on his limbs until each step feels like he is fighting through waves. He is drowning but not in oxygen this time. He is a child again and the sea is crashing over him so violently that he is not sure if this time he will survive. He has never actually stopped to ask himself whether or not he can die this way— by drowning. He had always assumed the answer was no, he could not. But now he is not so sure. Now he feels like he might die on the precipice of everything important to him— quite literally on the threshold of the rest of his damn life.

The hell he will.

His hand curls around the iron handle, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he uses the last of his power to shove the heavy wood open. He can barely hear his mother’s protests— they are more a feeling if anything. Loki, that is not proper you cannot go in there. Does it look like he cares right now? He ignores her— there is nothing else he can do. The light from the room trickles over him, mingled with a heady, flowery aroma. He lets the door fall closed behind him. It is thick and warm, mingling with the heat rolling off his mother’s bathing pool and creating a fog that should make it hard to breathe.

Should.

The opposite is true though. The thick air is anything but hard to breathe. Rather he feels as though he is breathing for the first time all day. Like magic it works against the pressure on his chest, lulling the storm inside him. For a moment he cannot hear the wailing, the peace soaking into his skin enough to silence the agony. As soon as the calm comes, however, it is gone, torn away by the hiccups of a small form that is huddled against the jeweled tub. Loki’s heart stops— at least it feels like it does.

She lifts her eyes and— while half hidden by the fallen strands of her hair— he can still see the way they are banded in strands of silver that seem to go on forever. They draw him in, pulling him under the surf of her eyes but this time he is not drowning— he is floating. It is her. He is pretty sure he takes a step forward because she is now a few feet closer to him but if he does then he does not feel it. Floating. She freezes, her chest stilling, her rose petal lips peeling apart. No sound comes out. Gods how he wishes she would say something.

But then she sucks in a breath, her chest rising, and the veins under what he knows to be the softest skin in all of Asgard glow, illuminating a pattern of lightning strikes across her flesh. Just like that, he is officially a goner. Officially hers. He would do anything she asked of him. Anything to keep her. How the hell did he get so damn lucky? He cannot tear his eyes away from her, drinking in as much of her skin as possible. The sleeves of her dress hang off her shoulders, baring her flesh to him, and he can see from her hunched form that the first few buttons of her dress are open. She was undressing? Now he cannot breathe again.

He follows the pattern under her flesh intricately, taking another step, his whole body shuddering when she breathes in again and makes the scattered glow of her veins shift. The lighting strikes continue over her shoulders, mingling with the silky strands of her hair. He is suddenly envious of the strands— why does it get the privilege of touching this Valhalla made woman?

He traces her sparking veins over the crest of her shoulders and down her spine. He can feel her silver eyes on him, watching as his own eyes flick over her skin. It is exhilarating— it makes him feel alive. Was he even living before this moment? Walking and speaking and experiencing? Or is it only now that he realizes that was all a dream? Is this what it feels like to actually be alive? Odin, he was missing out.

His eyes crease over the arch of her back, drawn to the mountains and valleys of her spine. Her skin is like another world, one he would give anything to forage through— to explore for hours on end. For the rest of his life. There is not a doubt in his mind that he could be happy getting lost in her for the rest of eternity. His eyes skim the ridges of her shoulder blades, trying to decide where to even begin, and it is only then when he sees it— when his heart actually stops.

At first he does not know what he is seeing. Of course he has seen bruises before— he has fought alongside his brother as a warrior countless times. He has seen both his own skin and Thor’s turn violet and blue. This, though, is different. He has never seen anything close to the deep black bruises on her back. Her lightning veins are more muted underneath them, still crackling but instead of silver light they glow a sickening shade of scarlet. Where the lighting webs he can see her blood shifting, clinging to her injuries and flowing like lava— molten.

He can feel the heat from where her body is trying to mend itself back together. Any other time he would want to sink into it— feel her warmth against him and try to steal some of it for himself. Usually he feels so cold. Not right now. Right now all he feels is fire— fire from her lava, lightning skin, fire from the embers heating the pool next to him, fire from his own, burning anger— and he can feel the flames leaking into his eyes as he kneels for the third time.

Once he is on the floor as well her scent strengthens, wrapping around him and clinging to him. He does not know much about flowers but he can smell the Dhalia’s now, clear and sharp, just like in the castle gardens. He does not remember the castle gardens being this intoxicating though.

And nobody stomps on the Dhalia’s in the castle gardens the way someone clearly has with this one.

His chest squeezes, the flames flaring out again. Like the bruises, Loki has longed for vengeance before— many times, actually— but never like this. It has never consumed him so completely. He has never had to teeter between two impossible choices like this— impossible not because they are undoable but because he has to do both and he does not know which to do first. Engulf the shaking girl or seek out whoever thought it wise to mar her soft skin?

He meets her silver eyes, watching them crackle and flood with more tears. He has to swallow hard to stop his own, his throat burning too now. Being this close to her he can make out her features— the special curve to her nose and the dip of her cupid's bow and the little marks on her skin— everything that makes her special. He wishes more than anything in this moment that the circumstances were not as they are so that he could spend an hour memorizing every little detail.

Her hands twitch and his gaze darts to where they curl around her elbows. He wonders for a moment if they shake because of him. Gods, he hopes not. Being who he is— a prince and a feared warrior— he is used to people cowering away from him. He has grown to crave it— if they are going to keep doing it then why not embrace it? He likes when they fear him. With her, though, he wants anything but. It becomes clear which choice he has to make in that moment— and that there was never really a choice at all.

He flicks his eyes back to her, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to sink closer to her height, trying to make himself appear smaller. Before this moment he never thought himself large. He is taller than his mother, yes, but not by too much. He is nowhere near as big as Thor. Hell, even Heimdall is bigger than him. He has always been the sleek one— agile, fast, lean. He is made for stealth— not at all used to towering over another person. But here he is, all of a sudden feeling like he did when he was a kid hitting a growth spurt again, all awkward and lanky. He tucks his elbows into his sides, his chin to his chest, his vision filtered through his lashes due to the tricky bow he squishes himself into. It is not enough but it is a start.

For a moment they just stare at each other. Loki has no idea what to say to her. It is not like he has been thinking about it for an entire sun cycle or anything, mulling over everything he could possibly tell her. Anything he could say he has surely thought of— he has played through every rendition of every conversation. Thousands of words and thoughts and feelings, all of which have evaporated into the vacuum of his mind the moment he needs to use them. Again, some silver tongue he is.

Thankfully, though, he does not need to figure out what to say to his soulmate— she figures it out first.

“Are you real?”

___________

Tag List: @crystal-siren @cari1bunny @breethememe @tapismyforte @atashi-no-yuuki

#loki #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fic #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #Loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson fic #The Servant and The Prince #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel fic #marvel cinematic universe fic

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floralseokjin · 4 years

Text

;cyber sex (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

⟨gif credit⟩

You want to partake in some “cyber” sex...

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader genre/warnings; smut, fluff, skype sex, or as oc puts it, cybersex, sex toy usage (here 😘) words; 3,038

more﹆chapter index

“Are your parents in bed?”

On the screen, Jungkook looked a little on edge, jittery almost. Like he was doing something illegal.

“My dad is. Mom’s downstairs catching up on soap operas.”

He still looked a little unsure. “How was your day?”

You shifted on your bed, crossing your legs, your laptop jumped slightly, pixelated Jungkook bouncing around for a second. Internet at your parents’ house had always been shitty but he still made a bunch of cute pixels.

“I’d love to small talk, Jungkook, I really would, but I woke up wanting sex and have been horny ever since.”

You were expecting him to log on all eager and possibly already halfway to naked, but he’d appeared in sweats, back against the headboard of your shared bed, legs stretched out where laptop you was placed on his thighs.

You watched him hesitate and grew annoyed. “What happened to being up for this?”

This afternoon he’d been eager, possibly even cocky when you’d texted him over lunch. Your mom gossiping in your ear about her co-worker’s so called affair while you passively listened and arranged sex plans with your boyfriend...

There had been a time you were too embarrassed to even think about masturbating in your family home, but like Jungkook kept saying, you were a grown ass woman now, not still in high school or even in college. Those days had long past you by. You were a hot blooded female with needs. Needs for your super hot, super sweet boyfriend. There was really no need to be ashamed. You were going to participate in some cyber sex, no matter how much Jungkook laughed at your awkward phrasing.

[You: 01:34pm] Are you busy tonight?

[JK: 01:36pm] if eating cheetos in bed by 8 is busy then yes

[You: 01:37pm] Don’t you dare bitch

[JK: 01:37pm] why do you want to know if im busy?

[You: 01:38pm] cybersex 2300 hours

[JK: 01:38pm] Cybersex 😭😭 no one calls it that weirdo but see you there my morning wood misses yoir ass

Here right now, Jungkook made a noise, arguing with you. “I am up for this. It’s just your parents...”

You rolled your eyes. He was a grown ass man and he was afraid of your parents. More so your dad. He’d taken a while to warm up to Jungkook—you blame the tattoos. But that was years ago when you’d first started dating. Your dad liked Jungkook now. Honest.

“My dad’s asleep. I can hear him snoring,” you commented, giggling.

Jungkook groaned. Way to ruin the mood, he was probably thinking. “That doesn’t help.”

“Come ooonnn,” you whined, leaning into the screen. You knew your robe was dipping in the middle, already tied deliberately lose. He had a great view of your cleavage, however muted because of the shitty lamp lighting. “I miss youuuu.”

Jungkook scoffed quietly. “And you’re making it worse. I wanna touch you for real.” He was speaking low, pouting really, but you caught his hand that slid across the front of his sweatpants. Was that some inconspicuous rubbing you’d spotted? Naughty.

You leant back again and tried not to grin in triumph. Jungkook 0, your tits 1 once again.

He carried on his rant. “I want you in this bed. In this house. I can’t wait 4 more days!”

Diddums. He was a child, you swore. “Should’ve come with me then.”

He was rubbing his crotch again, you didn’t think he realised he was doing it. “You know that’s only reserved for a Christmas every two years.”

Yeah, like you said, he was terrified of your father. It was probably why he hadn’t proposed yet, too scared to ask for your dad’s blessing. Not that you would say that to his face. And not like you wanted to get married anytime soon, it was just only natural to think of those things. You had been together for years after all.

You didn’t reply, instead shifting on the bed once more to spread your legs a little. You hiked one up, robe falling open to reveal the triangle of skin between your legs. You meant business.

“What’re you doing?” He practically stuttered, sitting up straighter against the headboard.

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“I can see that.”

You began to rub the pad of your index finger across your clit. Sensitivity shocking your body and you fought with yourself not to snap your legs closed. You softened the impact, slowly circling before slipping down your folds and collecting the moisture to drag back up to your clit. Agonisingly slow now because you wanted to tease the hell out of your boyfriend. Despite the near darkness, he had eyes like a hawk. “You’re wet already.” Maybe he could see it glistening through the camera. Or maybe he was just starting his descent…

“Like I said, I’ve been horny since this morning.” You ever so slightly dipped the tip of your finger inside yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d played with yourself like this in front of him. It was fun. Especially because he was hanging onto each movement like his life depended on it.

“Jungkook,” you nudged.

“Mm?” It was just one sound, too far gone now.

You murmured the next part, voice low and heavy, laced with a desperateness you’d felt all day. “Get your dick out.”

He didn’t argue. You let yourself grin in victory, ogling him as pushed a hand into his sweatpants and pulled out that thick, hot cock you’d been fantasising about since 7am.

He ran his fist along it, definitely not lazily. Tugging at the head, his thumb rubbed the drops of precum across his slit. You clenched and pulsed down below. Unfair move. Your image of him was grainy and unlit but he looked just as hot as he always did. Maybe it was time to unveil your secret weapon...

“Goodnight, love.”

You jumped immediately at the sound of your mom’s voice, hand jerking away from between your legs. You’d been so distracted you hadn’t even heard her coming up the stairs.

Your took a quick breath and tried to sound normal, praying you could keep your voice level. “Goodnight mom!” You succeeded, but only just you were sure of it.

You heard the click of the bathroom door and turned your attention back to Jungkook, eyes wide. His were too. “Jesus christ,” he muttered, sounding annoyed. “This was a dumb idea.” He was sat forward, dick back in his pants, tops of his cheeks rosy, either from the jerking off or the near close call. Probably both.

You tried to refrain from giggling but failed. “She wasn’t going to just barge in here.”

Both waiting a few seconds, it wasn’t long before your mom exited the bathroom and shut the door to her bedroom. You untied your robe, relaxing into the bed instantly. You weren’t losing this moment.

Jungkook groaned slightly, eyes apprehensively raking over your practically naked body. “This is so wrong.”

“Relax, we’re alone,” you insisted. “Just remember to be quiet.” You’d use your earphones but you’d forgotten them, remembering as soon as you’d boarded the plane.

“I’m alone.” He corrected, now sounding sorry for himself. Jeez, it was as if you weren’t spread out like a human buffet. “I miss you. Can’t you come home right now?”

Jungkook did not do well at being alone at all. It was cute. You smiled at him softly, running your hand down your stomach and between your legs. “But I wanna cum right nowww.”

“Fine.” His stare hardened, watching the way you rubbed at the bundle of nerves. “You cum and then come home. Then I fuck you. Properly. None of this Skype shit.”

You laughed, genuinely amused. He was such a baby. You watched him lift his t-shirt over his head. Taking initiative, you liked that. His hair fell in his eyes and he shook it away. He’d finally had a haircut a few weeks ago, but it grows fast, which was possibly a good thing because you really, really missed that long hair of his.

Your eyes fell down to his chest and across his shoulders. He had a few tattoos that decorated his torso, amongst other places, but they mainly covered his arms. Speaking of which you clenched and pulsed again, just imagining those arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight, hands pinning you to the bed... Shit. You really wanted to fuck him for real.

You splayed around against the bedsheets, arching your back a little and Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Take your robe off. Keep your bra on.” He sounded demanding, it wasn’t intentional, lost to the urge right now as usual, but you loved it when he ordered you about, even more so when he didn’t realise he was doing it.

You quickly got to it, snapping at your bra straps as you lied back down, propped up by your elbows. “Is this actually sexy?” You’d done this a handful of times but that was back in college. Now older, it seemed more daunting.

“Of course it is, babe,” Jungkook reassured. On cue he got his cock out again. He was still hard.

You watched him rake his hand along himself a few times and then grinned. “I have something.”

He raised an eyebrow again, curious but also clueless, and watched you pull something out from under the sheets. A glittery, rubbery thing that made his eyes light up.

“You brought a dildo to your parents’ house?” He asked after a split second of silence. You nodded, biting down on your lip, holding the specimen up to the screen. He caught the look on your face and chuckled. “You planned this?” He sounded impressed.

“Thought it would be fun.” You tried to sound casual but maybe you were a little nervous? Embarrassed? There was no need to be. You’d had a sexual fantasy and had acted on it... Jungkook was just as into it. Hm, maybe it was the being naked over cam that was making you feel so jittery?

Jungkook eyed Miss Jessica Rabbit and laughed again. “Only you would arrange a visit to your parents’ place just so we could participate in some ‘cybersex’.”

Joking aside, he was eager to begin. You could tell by the look in his eyes and by the way he’d straightened his back, leaning in closer for a better look. You didn’t feel nervy anymore. You were back in the zone.

“Cybersex sounds cool, I don’t know why you find it so funny.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes affectionately. “You’re adorable, that’s why I find it so funny.”

“Lameee.” You sang. But now you were running the head of the vibrator along your slit, spreading your legs in the process.

Jungkook watched you carefully, still stroking his dick with leisure. “I’m surprised you didn’t get caught at security with that thing.” He was making casual conversation but his voice sounded strained. He kept having to swallow. “Hiding a giant vibrator in your clothing.”

“Can you imagine?” You’d die of embarrassment right there on the spot.

“I‘d come bail you out, don’t worry.”

You giggled at his silliness. Who was going to tell him you couldn’t get arrested for carrying a vibrator in your luggage?

However, soon the mood for small talk was over, only distracting at this point. Or maybe what was distracting was now the vibrator beginning to stretch out your insides. It was a little uncomfortable at first, maybe you were just too well aware your parents were a few feet away, or maybe you were just out of practice when it came to fucking yourself.

Jungkook helped though, whispering encouragements and giving you useful tips, which only made you wetter; so yes, a huge help. It wasn’t long before you got a rhythm going, not long before your breathing quickened and you were trying really hard not to moan out loud.

Jungkook matched your movements, now jerking himself off with vigour. You watched one another, fully at ease and lost in your own little world.

“This is so unfairrr,” he grunted soon enough, burning a hole between your legs. His newly sworn enemy, Miss Jessica Rabbit. “I want my dick inside you, not some phoney.”

You moaned quietly, agreeing of course. Nothing felt as good as Jungkook inside you. Nothing ever had. You clicked a button on the toy and the first level of vibrations started.

You lifted your head a little, trying to gauge the sound. “Is that too loud?”

He shook his head. “I think you’re good. Fuck.” He cursed because you were now grinding up against the ears of the bunny, vibrations against your clit sending you all gooey and warm. “Go faster.”

You listened, the length of the vibrator now slipping in fully as your insides finally loosened up, no longer tense. You rolled to your side a little and like that you found your g-spot. Pleasure began to burst behind your eyes and you almost forgot Jungkook was there because now you’d remembered how to use this damn thing and there was no going back.

You clicked another button, powering up the shaft as the pearls inside the rubber began to rotate. You bit down on your lip, desperate not to make a sound and you cursed yourself. Why did you think this was a good idea? Pleasure screamed at you but you must keep quiet.

“Babe... Baby,” Jungkook was trying to get your attention. “Baby, get on your back again. I wanna see.”

You slowly listened, knowing you had been restricting his view and try to fuck yourself on your back. You planted your feet on the bed, kicking the laptop to the centre in the process and hoped now that he had a good view.

Whatever he saw, he liked, moaning maybe a little bit too loudly. You’d turn the volume down if you could move, but you can’t, too paralysed with pleasure. “This is so fucking hot.” He was legit growling, it sent a fire through your veins.

He watched you buck your hips into the vibrator over and over again, struggling a little to keep thrusting the shaft inside of you, but you think he found that hot. You were close. You knew it. Lips spread apart, your clit was swollen and greedy for pleasure, sensitive to the titillating vibrations and your walls squeezed and began to spasm around the thick rubber, the rotating sensation you felt making you tremble all over. Your wrist hurt but it was a good kind of pain, burning, making you work hard for your release.

“Wish you were here to fuck me better, baby,” you purred, because despite how amazing this felt Jungkook could make you feel a pleasure ten times greater. “Does your hand feel good?“

You couldn’t see him, flat on your back, eyes shut, face directed at the ceiling, but you could hear the sound of skin on skin. His palm raking up and down the rock hard flesh of his cock.

“Don’t rub it in,” he chided, voice low. Ha. Because that was exactly what he was doing. Luckily you were too out of breath to drop a shit pun.

Your lower half suddenly spasmed and you stifled a cry. You couldn’t hold on any longer. “Shit,” you gasped. “I forgot how strong this thing was.”

“Yeah? I’ll cum if you cum.”

That’s all you needed to hear. It wasn’t even five seconds later before you were coming. Like an explosion, thigh and vagina muscles clenching, toes curling into the sheets and your chest heaving, sweat beading at your hairline. Miraculously you managed to stay silent. Albeit your breathing. You ceased movement immediately, removing the pressure against your clit before turning the vibrations off. The shaft was still rotating inside you, nerves twitching in your thigh before you ended those too and slid the vibrator out with a silent pop. You threw it to your side. Your whole body tingled but you urged yourself to come to, to open your eyes and lean up on your elbows. Jungkook still needed to cum and you wanted to watch. Just like he watched you.

“Good, baby?” He asked. His eyes were black, breathing shallow. His fist still tugged at his dick, desperate now.

“Mm hm,” you nodded, feeling a little chilly now the thrill had worn off.

Jungkook grunted a command. “Spread your legs a little. I’m close.” You listened without question, giving him what he wanted.

You watched the veins protrude from his forearms, some painted black with the ink of his tattoos. The hand not wrapped around his cock cupped his balls ever so slightly, tugging on them a little before he tensed and groaned. The first spurt of cum shot out and landed on his stomach, then another, it slipped into the lines of his abs. The third load slowed and he tugged his fingers tight across the tip, over and over again, draining each drop. It thickened in the air and slid down his length, getting on his fingers too. You observed all this greedily. What a sight to behold.

A couple of tissues later for him and your robe tied back around your body, you were both grinning and giggling like a pair of idiots together, still on a high.

“We need to incorporate that into the real deal more,” Jungkook said, referring to the vibrator now stood on your bedside table. “Let me be in charge.”

“It’s got to make its way back home first,” you joked.

You had climbed into bed by now, welcoming the warmth and annoyingly your eyes started to feel heavy.

“You tired?” Jungkook noticed straight away.

“I can stay up a little longer,” you insisted, wanting to chat with him before you fell asleep. A text or a phone call just wasn’t the same, and even though it’s only been a few days, you missed him like crazy. “What did you eat for dinner?” You asked, making small talk.

He raised both eyebrows, eyes wide. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

No, probably not. You knew the answer already.

It was always a ramen diet for Jungkook when you were away...

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:flll

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