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#i need to trick my brain into thinking this is something new & shiny
daddyplasmius · 2 years
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FOtPoD spoilers but there's absolutely no context
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hey-august · 2 months
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August, if you ever wonder if some of your readership would like to hear your thoughts about Buggy and Reader in a poly relationship with either crossguild or Shuggy… WELP. There’s at least one.
I just want that clown to smooch me and also several other men who may or may not scare the shit out of him or incite deep feelings of rage in him. He’s very smoochable and I’m willing to share (and I just like to think about the added hilarity with any of these characters still in the picture)
omgggg yes!! I deeply adore the dynamics of all those relationships. The clown is just so...adaptable? Blendable? Sharable? Adorable.
I do have some Shanks x Buggy x Reader headcanons to share!
But first, for Cross Guild x Reader needs, I so strongly recommend @discordantwritings stories here (I'm pretty sure Our Precious Assistant Pt 2 changed my brain chemistry) and @turtletaubwrites' Numbers Game, which just started and is so good already. ❤️❤️❤️
Nowwww, let's talk Shuggy x Reader.
Word count: ~1.2k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, shanks x buggy x GN!reader, mix of fluffy and smutty thoughts, teasing, oral reader + m receiving, insertion sex, threesome, some praise, sorry for anything that's extremely ooc
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Date Nights
The first time you had a planned date with Shanks, Buggy sailed away so “date night” became “date week.” Buggy was jealous and embarrassed, which you both expected. You were annoyed at first, because this had been planned and discussed, but talking with Shanks calmed you down. This was new territory for all of you and it would take time to navigate. So when Buggy came back, no one made a fuss about it. If anything, you and Shanks were a little softer and a little kinder with the clown. Buggy picked up on the acceptance in your actions and it made him feel better. This also kicked off weekend-long dates, which you all look forward to.
One of your favorite dates with Shanks was when he took you to a town he frequented. The afternoon was spent strolling Main Street and shopping, although that was more of an excuse for Shanks to show you off. The evening ended at a cozy pub where he regaled you with alluring tales. Even though you heard some of them before, listening to him talk puts stars in your eyes. An expression that simply melts him.
Your favorite Buggy date was actually a party on his ship. You two were inseparable the entire night and the highlight was singing along to music at the end of the night. “Singing.” You were both bottles deep and could hardly get full words out, but the (hazy) memory of laughing and giggling your ways through the inebriated performance while holding on to each other always makes you smile. Buggy often catches that particular goofy grin on your face and he just adores it.
Buggy and Shanks also spend time together, which is surprising-not surprising. Buggy might claim that he’s upset with Shanks and needs to go yell at him, or wants to gloat about something. Shanks tries to entice Buggy with the promise of shiny goodies and treasure. Everyone knows it’s a farce, but it’s how they show they care for each other. There’s no denying the sparks in their eyes afterwards.
Petty Arguments
When these two get together, their inner children teens come out in full swing. And so do the jokes and petty arguments.
Shanks messes with Buggy any chance he gets. Teasing comments, swapping his nearly empty drink with Buggy’s fuller glass, dumb jokes.
He’ll also tease you, but in the form of cheesy pick-up lines. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.” “I was feeling a little off today, but you've turned me on again.” “Did you do something to my eyes? I can't seem to take them off you.”
Buggy can’t stand when your attention is on Shanks for too long, so he’ll try and out-do the other pirate. He has a repertoire of card drinks and sleight of hands, which often do the trick.
Shanks knows what Buggy is doing and teases him. “I know you’re a performer, but there’s no need to make a scene.” Buggy didn’t like that one.
There was the one time Buggy challenged Shanks to a juggling challenge. When Shanks declined, Buggy was ready with his own comeback. “It’s not because of the arm, it’s because he doesn’t have the balls.” Surprisingly, that spurred Shanks into joining the 2-man competition.
Speaking of being competitive…
Sex with them individually is nothing like having sex all together.
At first, you were often at the mercy of the two men who were intent on proving how well they could pleasure you. Once, they wanted to see who was better at oral and could make you cum the most times. The more orgasms you had, the less lucid you became and the competition turned into finding out who would you beg to fuck you. Even though the countless orgasms emptied your head, you remembered that this all started with oral and you didn’t want to mess with the rules of their contest. When they realized you were trying so hard not to whine and ask for their dicks, they started asking you. - “Baby, want me to fuck you? C’mon, don’t you want to feel this inside you?” - “You look so good on my tongue, but you’d look better on my cock. Tell me you want it.”
Unfortunately (fortunately?) there was no clear winner. Buggy was between your legs yet again, with your fingers entwined in his hair and your head was flopped to the side. You said “please, want you inside,” but they couldn’t agree on who you were talking to. Shanks is adamant that you were looking at him, but Buggy calls bullshit and claims you were talking to him because he was the one making you feel good.
There are sessions where you and Shanks focus more on Buggy. It took a lot of time for Buggy to feel relaxed enough to accept the attention, but you two wore him down and won him over. He’ll rarely admit it, but Buggy loves being sandwiched between you and Shanks. The feeling of sinking his cock into you while he’s stretched around Shanks is so overwhelmingly delicious that Buggy gets greedy. He can’t get enough of moving his hips so he can fuck you and fuck himself on Shanks’ cock. The sweet moans and whimpers he releases are intoxicating. Buggy’s often the first to cum in this position, but Shanks will continue to fuck you through Buggy, knowing how to maneuver Buggy’s hips and thrust until you climax.
In turn, there are the moments where you and Buggy cater to Shanks. He never gets tired of watching you and Buggy fight to suck his leaking cock. The way you struggle to throat his member while Buggy focuses on smearing his face paint on Shanks’ thighs and balls through sloppy kisses is a vision that gets Shanks hard at a moment’s notice. Buggy’s attention is fierce and demanding - he’s trying to unravel Shanks entirely. It's a power trip thing. Whereas you balance that heat with restrained touches. When Shanks cums in your mouth, you always share with Buggy and make sure to show Shanks that you both swallowed his entire load. Seeing you hold Buggy by his hair and squeezing the clown's cheeks to present his empty mouth is a sinfully beautiful encore.
Your favorite times are the ones where you get to spoil Shanks and Buggy. You tend and care to their needs. Your gentleness wipes away their fierce competitive streaks. You make sure that you give them both a surplus of attention and shower them with desire. If you’re riding or under one, your hands and eyes are on the other. You pour praise and compliments until they’re overflowing. And the way it overflows is music to your ears. They turn the praise to you and to each other. - “You look amazing on Buggy’s cock.” - “Get on Shanks and make him feel good, I wanna see that sweet face you make.” - “Pretty thing, you’re taking him so well.” - “Good job, you know how to make him moan so loud.” - “You’re going to make him cum, keep going.”
The cuddles after these sessions? Heavenly. Amazing. Buggy, who normally takes up the entire bed, sleeps so peacefully when you and Shanks are on either side of him. Sometimes, when Buggy passes out first, you’ll claim the middle spot and wake up to the two pirates wrapped around you. It’s a little sweaty and a lot comforting.
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television-overload · 9 months
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'sh-boom' (an X-Files fanfic)
Like usual, I caved and instead of leaving my "someone should write this" post be, I wrote it myself. I'll tag some people that expressed interest in this prompt below the fic! Shout out to @baronessblixen who already wrote the perfect Scully-accidentally-kisses-Mulder fic. You can read that here!
Now, for Mulder accidentally kissing Scully cause he dreams about her all the time.... takes place February 1998, mid-Season 5.
Read on Ao3
There’s a trick to fighting insomnia, Mulder had discovered. Not a cure, by any means, but an improvement, nonetheless. All you need is a super off-limits best friend you’ve fallen stupidly in love with, spend practically every waking hour of the day with her, and then spend the rest of your time thinking about her until your exhausted and delusional mind has mercy on you and blesses you with her presence in your unconscious state.
A foolproof plan, really. Scully had even noticed he seemed more well-rested and happier in the last few weeks, so something had to be working.
Although, there were—he had to admit—a few rather notable side effects.
Despite what others might tell you, Fox Mulder was not one to have trouble distinguishing between fiction and reality. Usually. But in his defense, his dreams were very, very vivid, and there had been a time or two that he’d referred to something Scully had said, only to realize at her blank stare that it was the figment of her in his imagination who’d said it.
“Must have been someone else I was talking to,” he’d awkwardly say, thankful that she kept her mouth shut about the fact that there was no one else he’d have such conversations with, and they both knew it.
He’d also been on the receiving end of more than a few raised eyebrows and patented “what is wrong with you?” looks, which were well-deserved for catching him staring even more than typical. Sure, he was sleeping better at night, but his brain was now trained to find restfulness when thinking about Scully, which was pretty much an all-day thing too. Sitting across from her in their isolated little office for extended periods of time made his eyes glaze over and eyelids droop halfway shut. Oh, the horror… he probably looked like a drunk idiot. He hoped he at least looked somewhat normal, not like a drooling dope with a dumb smile on his face who was clearly not having a productive day at work.
What would old doctor Pavlov have to say about this sorry scenario?
His consolation was that Scully already knew he was weird, and stuck around anyway, so he had no qualms against going home night after night and picking up where he’d left off in Scullyland the night before. Let’s see, he was just about to their son’s first little league baseball game, of which Mulder was the coach, of course. “Scully, don’t forget, we signed up to bring snacks for the team after the game.”
Behind closed eyes he saw her raise her arm to show him the already packed bag she was holding, an exasperated but loving look in her eye. “Always one step ahead of me,” he said fondly. With practiced ease, they danced around each other in the kitchen of a fairly unremarkable house, grabbing sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles, keys… “Alright, sport, get in the car! Bus is leaving!” he called out, smiling as the sounds of little footfalls preceded the sight of his freckle-faced son, clad in shiny new baseball cleats.
“Got your glove?”
“Yep.”
“Your bat?”
“Yep.”
“Spitting tobacco?”
“Daaaad…”
“Mulder!”
“I’m just kidding, get in the car, will you? Coach Fox can’t be late, it’s unprofessional.”
“Wait I forgot my seeds!”
A minivan. Perfectly unremarkable. Admittedly, very comfortable, and spacious.
“Fox…” Scully mused with a shake of her head as she buckled her seatbelt.
“What? All the great baseball legends have weird nicknames. I just happen to have been born with mine.”
“The Great Bambino!” a little voice piped up from the back, glancing out the window as they ventured forth into the miles and miles of farmland.
“That’s my boy. ‘Oil Can’ Boyd. ‘Cool Papa’ James Bell. ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson. Did you know Lou Gehrig’s teammates called him ‘Biscuit Pants?’”
A giggle from the back seat.
“Alright you’ve made your point.” He loved it when she used that voice, the one that meant she was tired of his antics, but not really. Of course she loved his senseless rambling. She did it too sometimes, albeit with a few more hyper-specific medical terms thrown in there, leaving him unable to do anything other than smile and nod.
When they arrived, they piled out of the van, the messy brown hair of his son—already sweaty somehow, by the way—disappearing into the dugout with a gaggle of other overexcited little boys. “Good luck,” Scully spoke as she planted a kiss on Mulder’s cheek and made her way to the stands, setting up a cushion and portable fan that were sure to be the envy of all the other parents.
The field smelled like grass and dirt and the leather of brand-new baseball gloves just waiting to be broken in. It was a smell straight out of his childhood, of those summer nights on the Vineyard getting eaten up by bugs under the bright lights of the baseball fields. The crack of a ball against a wooden bat. Coming home covered in sweat and dirt and with a kid sister in tow who insisted on playing with the boys.
It was in this dream state where he found peace. Not in the past, but in some amorphous future. A future where he had a family again, a loving home. Where he wasn’t a coward and had a beautiful wife and partner who somehow made everything work. They fought monsters. They went grocery shopping. They filed paperwork with Skinner. He coached little league. They drove to work together. They picked up their son from school.
Baseballs went flying. Teams celebrated their first win. Little boys were tucked into bed, and he kissed his wife goodnight. That’s just how it was.
It was freedom. A freedom he didn’t think he’d felt since his life changed with a flash of light.
In the morning, he’d wake in a haze. With his brain on autopilot, he’d amble about his apartment, brushing his teeth, making coffee, tying on a tie… Caught somewhere in between these worlds of make-believe and reality. It was a benefit of his eidetic memory, he supposed, to be able to remember his dreams and stay in them even after coming to consciousness. Didn’t work out so great when he had constant nightmares, but hey, now that’s been solved too.
Somewhere along his drive to work was usually when reality really set in. He tried to not let it bring him down too much—it was his own fault, after all, that his life bore little resemblance to that which revealed itself in dreams. But he couldn’t help the slight pangs of disappointment he felt when he thought of the lonely couch he slept on every night and the sad state of his fridge.
“Good morning, Mulder,” Scully called out her usual greeting as she breezed into the office.
Mulder’s head lifted off the desk where it had been laying. “Mm—morning.”
Scully chuckled, setting down her bag in her chair and working to remove her heavy coat which she hung on the coat rack. His dream may have taken place in the heat of summer, but it was unmistakably the dead of winter in Washington, D.C.
“Not get enough sleep?” she asked, her amused tone not entirely disguising the genuine concern she felt for him underneath.
“I slept fine,” Mulder answered, “just… still waking up.”
Scully shook her head and let out another low chuckle, taking her seat across from him. She pulled out a file from her bag and began scanning through it, the lamp next to her providing most of the light, as the cloud-covered sky through the skylight threatened to dump a heap of snow on the city.
The day went on like that. Mulder managed to actually get some work done, finalizing some paperwork he’d been putting off (to Scully’s exaggerated shock and disbelief). She, on the other hand, was working on going over some medical reports a field office had sent over for her expert opinion, something that flattered her and made Mulder bloom with pride.
He didn’t even mind that much that they didn’t have a case to work on at the moment. That was another thing that had changed since he’d started indulging in these dreams: he could sit still for five minutes without vibrating out of his skin.
Of course, he’d never stop yearning for the truth, wondering what was out there waiting for him to discover it. But lately, he also found he enjoyed these quiet days where barely a word was spoken between them. It was comfortable. Everything unspoken didn’t need to be said aloud because it was a given—they both knew without saying everything that could possibly be said.
Lunch?
Yes.
Can you hand me a pen?
Sure.
The winter sun set early, and night was well on its way by the time Mulder looked up from his work to check the clock. Sure enough: quitting time. He stood from his desk just as Scully did, making his way over to the coat rack to grab both his and Scully’s coats. She snapped her bag shut with a click as he handed it to her before slipping his arms into his own coat sleeves.
Scully fluffed her hair out from under the collar of her coat. Mulder flicked off the lamp. She draped her bag over her shoulder. He grabbed his own briefcase and circled around his desk toward the door.
“Night, Scully,” he spoke like he did every evening, dipping down to place a quick kiss goodbye on her lips.
He froze.
Lips still touching, he swore he felt his heart stop and his fingers go numb. Somehow amid all the blaring alarm bells and internal screaming, his brain was able to send the signal back away, you idiot! to the rest of his body, and he obeyed, straightening up to look at her with what he knew she recognized as his ‘panic face.’
The only light now was coming from the streetlamps in the parking lot and the gentle snowfall reflecting it down into the office, the dim yellowish light making it difficult to tell what she was thinking. A wiser man would say something, apologize, explain it away, even leave, dang it! Get out of there! But Mulder was frozen. And apparently mute. Just perfect.
The seconds ticked by. Was that clock always so loud? That was it, he’d really gone and done it now, hadn’t he?
A smile formed across Scully’s lips, barely visible in the darkness. She blinked up at him with an oddly relaxed look in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light.
“Night, Mulder,” she replied before patting him twice on the chest above his heart and turning to leave.
It must have been a combination of her words and her touch that eventually broke him from his stupor, because he finally blinked and managed to stumble back to his office chair only to collapse into it, covering his face with his hands and letting out a muffled scream.
What an idiot. What. An. Idiot.
This was the price he had to pay for his risky little endeavor to sleep through the night. Dreaming of Scully had a cost, he should have known it was only a matter of time. He was messing with the delicate balance of things. Mulder and insomnia, insomnia and Mulder. They went hand-in-hand. Trading it in for the much more pleasant musings he had for his partner was too good to be true.
He sat there in horrified, humiliated silence for what felt like hours before finally heading home to what would inevitably be an appallingly horrible night’s sleep.
-.-.-
Mulder hadn’t slept. At all.
He laid awake most of the night staring at the ceiling and mentally berating himself over and over for blurring the lines so much that he’d briefly forgotten he and Scully weren’t actually together. He had every intent to call out of work the next day, and maybe the day after that, every day until he could come up with something to say to make things less awkward between them the next time they’d see each other, but then Skinner called.
His stomach dropped to the floor when the words “I need to ask you something,” crackled through the phone, the gruff voice of his boss sending a chill down his spine. It turned out all Skinner wanted was for Mulder and Scully to check out some reported aquatic dinosaur sightings in a lake in central Kansas, but Mulder still felt dizzy from the adrenaline the initial words had sent coursing through his system.
Against his wishes, he was dressed and in a taxi to the airport before noon, realizing too late that he hadn’t eaten anything either.
As he entered the bustling terminal, he saw Scully standing near the check-in point, dressed in her sensible heels and no-nonsense suit, her suitcase resting on the ground near her tapping foot. She checked her watch and glanced up to the departures sign before scanning the crowd. He winced as her sight settled on him, and picked up the pace.
“Jeez, Mulder, you look awful,” she said by way of greeting.
“Sorry I’m late,” he spoke, hoping to divert any conversation away from what had happened the night prior.
She wasn’t so easily dissuaded, however. “What happened to you? Are you sick?”
It seemed he would have to say something after all. He settled for, “Haven’t had anything to eat.” There. That would throw her off his scent.
Scully’s eyebrows furrowed and she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, beginning to pull it in the direction of their gate. “Well, you can have the other half of my muffin, it’s in my purse.”
He said nothing after that, choosing to follow after her like a lost puppy. They made their way through the metal detectors and had just enough time to get to their gate before they were boarding.
True to her word, just as soon as they’d reached cruising altitude, Scully extracted half a blueberry muffin from her purse and placed it on the tray table in front of Mulder, who was leaning heavily on the wall of the plane, staring blankly out the window. He mumbled his thanks and ate it in 3 clean bites, feeling only slightly guilty for inhaling his food like that in front of her.
Sensing that he wasn’t in a talkative mood, Scully posed a one-word question. “Insomnia?”
Mulder leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I thought it was getting better?”
“It was,” he answered, hoping she wouldn’t read into it.
Mulder sat up again, reaching for a book in his bag, but Scully’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Gently, she pushed him back until he was resting again, forcing his head to the head rest with the soft touch of her hand over his brow.
“Sleep,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
-.-.-
After the rocky start to the day and the awkwardness on his end throughout the flight, Mulder came to the conclusion that Scully was acting perfectly normal, so he might as well do the same. Well, she had kissed him on the cheek, but that wasn’t unheard of, was it? They’d done that before. Sure, it was rare, but she was worried about him. Aside from that, it was as if nothing had even happened, and if Mulder had been just a little more crazy, he might have believed it had all been a dream after all. It wasn’t though, and the touch of her lips on his still burned when he thought about it.
Against his better judgement, on the first night in the motel in central Kansas, he decided to employ his, now patently risky, sleep technique. It didn’t help that his subconscious supplied him with dreams of a family road trip and motels just like the one he was staying in. It took everything in his power not to say, “Wake up, buddy, time to hit the road,” to an invisible—and sadly, impossible—son in the morning. Even harder was it to suppress the words “Morning, beautiful,” from escaping his lips when he first ran into Scully in the lobby.
She seemed appeased that he had actually gotten some rest, at least, when she saw him at breakfast. The day went on without issue. Things between them were… normal. Conditions: good. Weather: frigid. Why they were investigating a potentially cold-blooded creature in the middle of February was beyond him.
He suspected this case would turn out to be yet another wild goose chase. Nothing was living in that water except maybe a very cold and very large escaped alligator from a nearby run-down zoo. Unfortunately, his recent contentment with boring, unexciting cases didn’t seem to apply here. Or at least right now.
To his relief, the local law enforcement decided to handle it themselves and even had the presence of mind to sheepishly apologize for having them come all the way out there. Flights were booked for the next day, following an almost four-hour drive back to Kansas City.
When they arrived back at the motel, Mulder fished out his room key from his pocket and inserted it into the door to unlock it. At the next door over, Scully set her briefcase on the ground before crossing the distance to him right as he turned the handle, stalling him briefly in the doorway. She stood there just long enough to reach up for a quick peck on the lips, the kiss as brief as he had done two nights before.
“Wha—” he mouthed silently, interrupted by Scully’s easy, “Goodnight, Mulder,” leaving him gaping at her in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob, as she went off to bed.
-.-.-
It was getting harder to tell fiction from reality, and that was tough for Mulder to admit. Scully smiled at him in the morning when she climbed in the passenger seat of their rental car, and for a moment Mulder felt the gnawing feeling that they’d forgotten to put their son in the backseat despite knowing he wasn’t real. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but that could only help so much.
Her humming half the ride home was straight out of his dreams too, a happy sound that he hadn’t heard much in the months since Christmas and Emily. She even held his hand during takeoff on the plane, not that that was uncommon, but still.
When they finally touched down in the snow blanketed capitol city, she offered to drive him home rather than have him wait for a taxi out in the cold. He gratefully accepted, unable to come up with a valid excuse not to. That was when it happened again.
Once was a mistake. Twice was a fluke. Three times on the lips, and Mulder had some questions. Namely, was he going completely crazy, or did he miss something?
As she pulled up to his building, she put the car in park and stretched across the center console to give him yet another kiss, finishing it with a smile and a, “See you tomorrow, Mulder.”
Unable to tear his eyes away from her lest she fade away like his dreams, Mulder fumbled for the door handle and pushed open the car door, stumbling his way to his feet.
“See you tomorrow,” he managed to respond, in a voice that he felt wasn’t his own.
He started his way toward the entrance to his building in a daze, screeching to a halt when he heard her call out, “Mulder!” through the opened passenger window.
He turned back, croaking out a very eloquent, “Huh?” as he searched for her face in the dark car interior.
“You forgot your bags.”
Oh.
Scully chuckled and popped the trunk for him. He rubbed his hand awkwardly over the back of his neck and trudged his way back to the car to retrieve his possessions, slamming the trunk shut when he was finished. Scully gave a wave out the window and took off into the night, and for a second night in a row, all he could do was stand there and blink in the direction she had disappeared.
-.-.-
Calling out of work would be useless, it wouldn’t help the issue at all. He was more confused than ever, but Scully seemed to be perfectly fine, so it must be his own problem. What if he’d somehow manifested his dream life into his waking one, that by some mystical force, certain elements of it were slipping through into reality? He could open an X-File. Test out his powers of manifestation—if he didn’t completely lose his grip on reality in the process.
In his dream last night, they’d celebrated her birthday, and now he couldn’t remember if they’d already done so, or if he ought to get started on planning something in real life. What day is it again? It was driving him crazy. Crazier than usual.
He would just have to talk to her. Ask her what was up with all the kissing, not that he minded. But was that actually happening? Was he imagining things? If he brought it up, would they go back to what it was like before? Would it get worse? What if he kissed her again? This time on purpose?
Every time he went to say something, his mouth opened and no sound came out. He was sure she’d notice at some point. How embarrassing. Hours ticked by, and before he knew it, it was the end of the day. An epic fail, as far as his attempt to talk to her went.
He stood from his desk with a sigh, resigned to another day of confusion tomorrow, and started toward the door with his bag and coat in tow.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” her voice called from behind him, and there she was, standing by his desk, arms crossed expectantly over her chest. That eyebrow. That darn eyebrow was doing its thing too, what does she mean by that?
“Scully?” he asked, brain tired and worn out from a tumultuous week.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked again, uncrossing her arms and shifting in that way that exposed her well-masked nervousness. It was the first sign he’d seen that he wasn’t losing his mind, this really was unusual. And she knew it too.
Eyebrows furrowed, he walked toward her until he was standing right in front of her, desperately trying to read her expression as he looked down at her. Her eyes met his with determination, deliberately holding eye contact when every cell in his body screamed Danger! Run away! There was hope there, too, but Mulder didn’t want to guess what that hope might be for. This was not the moment for guessing.
She was still looking at him expectantly, though, and he couldn’t think of anything else.
Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away or shoot him if he’d read the situation wrong, he bent toward her, placing one hand over her elbow and the other brushing lightly over the hair covering her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing hitched, and there! She was leaning forward too! Not quite standing on tiptoes, but stretching to meet him, nonetheless.
Taking this as a good sign, he closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, holding them there for one, two, three, four, five seconds before pulling back and letting his arms drop to his sides. His eyes remained tightly shut, afraid to open them and see the disgust or annoyance that would surely greet him.
He swallowed past a lump in his throat, his face pinched in concern, but he dared not move. After a moment, he felt two hands cup his cheeks on either side, the thumbs brushing out the lines of tension around his eyes. Something about the motion coaxed his eyes open, and what he saw wasn’t disgust or annoyance, but a content and relieved smile on the face of his partner.
He was entranced.
“Goodnight, Mulder,” she spoke softly, the same words from the other nights, but with a considerable amount of weight that hadn’t been there before. After a moment more, she began to pull away, and Mulder felt his heart stutter. Without thinking, he stopped her, grabbing her by the upper arms and pulling her to him. His eyes fell shut again as he dove toward her lips, stopping short by a few inches and pressing his forehead to hers instead.
“What is this?” he whispered, desperate to know, needing to put a name to it.
She let out a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
“Am I dreaming?”
She laughed again, and man, what he would do to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.
“I just thought you’d decided to institute a new goodbye ritual, and went with it.”
It was Mulder’s turn to smile in amusement. He hummed.
“No, I’ve dreamt of this,” he murmured, nuzzling her forehead with his. “I thought I was going crazy.”
“If you are, then what does that make me?”
“I don’t know. If not crazy, then what other option is there?”
Reaching to cup the back of his neck, she pulled him ever closer, her next words brushing against his cheek. “I can think of something.”
His eyes opened to see her staring back at him, a flood of emotions he wasn’t sure he could name dancing there, reflecting identical ones in his own. Uncertainty gave way to resolve, and he hoped she would lend him some of hers, because he would surely need it.
He knew it was coming, and still it blew him away.
This time, her kiss was slow… purposeful. He melted into her, pulling her closer with an arm clutching to her waist and the other hand splayed across her shoulder blade.
The fog in his brain prevented him from determining how much time passed, but eventually they had to come up for air, identical smiles gracing their faces.
“I think I know what this is, Mulder, and I think you feel the same way. But if I’m wrong, this is going to be really awkward.” Her words were spoken with laughter, but there was an underlying sense of doubt. Doubt that by no means had any place there.
“No, I think you’re right,” he answered, cupping her cheek with his hand. “I think you’ve got it figured out.”
Her eyebrow went up again and a teasing smile played on her lips. “Can I get that in writing, or…”
He grinned and pulled her to him once more. “Oh, shut up.” And he kissed her.
---
Tagging @agent-troi @welsharcher @hippocampouts @invidiosa @whovianelle @captainsolocide @randomfoggytiger @today-in-fic
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were--ralph · 1 year
Note
Hey ralph im new to art and im slowly learning lots of stuff but a thing I really struggle is making hair on things. (or fur) do you have any tricks for that
oh baby this is my home
OR IT WAS BUT I CAN'T FIND MY OLD PSDS but i'll try to explain it anyway without them
Lets do an experiment!
image 1:
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and now 2
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you can tell it's hair in both images despite it being blurry, right? Well here's why and this is the most helpful tip i can give you.
When you're drawing hair/fur you're not actually painting every strand, you're painting the effect of hair/fur. Your eyes and brain will fill in the gaps, you don't need every strand/clump. Here's what I mean. I'll break it down into the main four parts: Base, Flow, Rendering, and details
Base: its just a color base that's it
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Flow: Hair and fur grows in specific patterns and directions. You want to mimic it and like. sure panthers with rippling abs don't normally exist but still you can assume the fur will grow downwards, so mimic what feels natural. Also don't be afraid to draw the lines out on a new layer i still do it sometimes.
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Rendering: think of this as lighting and the MOST basic details
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you can get a general idea of it feeling like fur without detailing. There are parts where it's almost all one color (near the nipple for example) where you still assume its fur despite it being nearly one color. Think of this as the most basic lighting you can think of. just like. general lighting.
and now details:
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once again, you don't want to over detail (i do because I'm an idiot) and let the mind fill in the gaps in areas. Something EXTREMELY important to keep in mind when detailing: not all areas will have the same amount of detail. darker areas generally receive much less detail than lighter areas. refer to the hair pic from earlier. the darkest parts you can't see each strand, but the shiny and light parts you can!
I'll do another one.
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keep in mind of the flow and when painting please god do not use a "fur brush". this was all chalk and default round brush. Remember! the brushes don't matter so much as your grasp on the thing you're painting. Get a simple chalk, round, square, etc brush and paint in the direction you want.
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refine your lighting and add your detail in the lightest/shiniest areas, the darkest areas are generally fine outside of reflected light. Also important!
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when lighting realistically, the edges almost always stand out due to rim lighting and just how light interacts with fur/hair. adding details on the edges will make it feel more realistic
However! there is more! Fur comes in MANY shapes, you can play with the shapes and rendering once you're more comfortable!
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Last thing i should have said earlier is fur generally lives in clumps whereas straight hair is just strand by strand
hope this helps!
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resmarted · 3 months
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alright fine, is this what you want? here it is, the weirdly sincere version of me that comes to casually haunt you late into the night, she's right here. did you want me to tell you how i'm scared this is just another trick or too jaded to believe in the niceties of others, that i am beside myself over how pretty you are and that something that once seemed fairly easy to ignore has made its way through the floorboards pounding at my conscience with such ruthless fury? i don't know exactly when this happened, i think it started in very small flickers that i could easily smolder without much thought. i think surely you must interact with everyone this way, that you're just very nice and everyone sees these same shining eyes and has to protect their own hearts accordingly, that perhaps it has been like this since you were a kid and that your mother probably has stories for days about what that was like for all the sweet stupid girls and boys that got overlooked and left behind. i try to make sense of it, water it all down with pure logic, like surely you must feel bad for me or want to put me at ease in some sense of duty as any nice caring person would. surely you knowing me by my government name has hindered your ability to really see me and i can rest easy knowing it's just an extension of grace and generosity with good manners mixed in. i woke up randomly from a dream a few weeks ago where we were talking and could only manage to think huh, that was weird. i didn't want to keep thinking about it. i can't keep doing this to myself, the whole reading too much into things that are not there and overinvesting energy better spent elsewhere. this always happens when i am already stuck on someone else that doesn't give me the time of day, when i am wrapped safely in the cocoon of a delusion so refined that i couldn't possibly make room for anything new. i can never just be normal about things. i need obsessions to keep me going and it usually takes a new one to snap me out of the old, like some strange autistic train hopping from one infatuation to the next, lest i feel dead inside with nothing or no one to aimlessly yearn for and pine over. i can obsess over work and find things to do and people to bide my time with, but i can't unsee you. not lately, anyway. you are invading my thoughts and filling the space in my brain that is usually reserved for dead air and practical affairs. i keep thinking it's still early enough to get a grip, that i can simply meet someone new or find something shiny in the nick of time, that life isn't so bland to the point where i need a constant source of disassociation to mend the wounds of reality - not yet anyway.
jealousy is a disease and everyone around you is dying. you don't even see it. it's a pattern i see in all my favorite people, their humble nature always blocking their sight from all the ways in which people are out to get them, the subtle nonverbal cues and the small minded mentality unbearable to witness by those that actually do care for them. i can't help but suspect people have sabotaged you in similar ways all your life, how envy has wreaked havoc on you in ways you still haven't quite grasped as you're never competing with those determined to beat you at any cost. it's too presumptuous to think someone could be so calculated and vile, and that it only sounds crazy because it is and they are. but what do i know? i've been kept hostage in this cave my whole life while reverend henry kane siphons and harvests my light for personal gain. i've only ever known betrayal and alienation, it's the pure love that is difficult to navigate. it's the unabashed kindness and the rorshach of angelic whimsy all around me all the time, how did that happen? i am trapped in a prism, warm gooey blackberry dreams melting over me and vague memories of summers spent in westerly reading novels that took place in the same towns, wondering how strange it felt to be surrounded by such seemingly normal and decent people. i've lost so many versions of myself over time, so many variations and talents that were suppressed for survival, jumping from timeline to timeline until i can't seem to figure out my age anymore.
people scare me for various reasons, mainly the ones who come too close and want to stake claim, to feed off my energy and hoard it for themselves. i can't deal with anyone else trying to own me, i am still trying to wash the slime off from prior experiences. i am safe in solitude but i can come out to rage and party in these wildly extreme ways before disappearing for lengths of time, and i forget all the time that i'm not a kid anymore. which is weird because i am constantly insisting i have everything handled and i don't need any help! i'm fine i'm fine no really i'm okay it's fine!! it's literally never fine and hasn't been for so long but if i say it out loud then it becomes real and i can laugh off a thousand problems until it eventually becomes funny; a fake it til you make it kind of thing. it is very likely true that i am the evil narcissist monster people love to paint me as, because how dare i like myself, right? how dare i carve a place in this world and defy all odds when it would be easier for everyone if i just crawled back into the hole and stayed put, fall in line and act oh so grateful for anyone to ever possibly give me the time of day, oh my! i didn't survive this life to stay silent and if anything the ones that have tried to keep me in this space for so long had better find a new god to pray to if they know what's good for them. i am not here to bore you with the gory details of a life spent growing up in hospital beds or the disdain with which grown adults would look at me and still do, how people must think it was easy for me to get this far or underestimate all the burning buildings i crawled through on my way here. i hold no resentment about it, nor the desire to relive any of it. i just wanted to tell you i forget i lived through any of it when i look at you and something softens inside of me in a way that is both terrifying and thrilling. i can barely remember the hatred in their voices or the violence or the mockery or the way they thought i never caught on to any of it, how gallantly they cackled like the most pathetic coven of washed up pseudosorcerers as they feigned so poorly a threadbare kinship. all of it washes away when i look at you and for a moment i actually believe in something other than the corruption of tethered souls and the enigmatic greed that only the most clueless pawns in spiritual warfare could succumb to. i look away before i get too lost because i don't really think i can believe it, your charm far too sugary sweet for any of it to be real or reliable, but god do i wish to be fooled.
i hate that i felt my heart drop to my feet or that i even cared enough to let it be more than what it was. i guess if i could go back i wouldn't change anything, and i probably wouldn't go back at all, even if only to look at your face up close once more. i can't handle the obsession, it's not good for my fragile little psyche. i managed to be so good at not caring and then you had to go and fuck it all up and look at me like that. i tell myself you do this shit to all your hoes and that there are likely a dreadful amount, that i am being the exact version of silly according to some sick plan and falling into the trap just as designed. but then you act like a shy idiot and i am into it, i want more even though i hate this stupid game, i hate these little techniques used to reel me in like a beta fish and i want to knock you off a very high horse for daring to get me lured in this far. and i want to stare at you for a while and listen to you talk in that uncontrollable way where you do the thing starting on one topic only to wind up in fifteen other places, and i'm there along for the ride. i am following to every single rest stop, taking every little note, and watching every slightest glimmer in your eyes as you light up like a little kid in emphatic fervor. i can't tell if i want off this ride or if i want to just crash and burn and get it over with already. can't stand not knowing how long this is supposed to last but when i review the omens they seemingly all lead back to you. i was so sure it was someone else back when i wanted so badly for it to be them, and now i can't tell if i'm making it out to be you for the same reason, but the descriptors are eerily accurate and things have already happened as predicted which could not only suggest that this isn't an intricately built snare but perhaps even a safe haven where i am to finally rest my head and sleep soundly without fear for the first time ever. they say there are false twins that will mirror back the things you want them to be, that can mimic the true soul mate and deceive you into falling for the wrong one. i can't help but notice everyone that came before was just a bad imitation of you, terrible actors in a low budget cable movie in hindsight. i don't know if i can handle another fully formed entity posing as all the things i want, i'd rather turn you off completely before anything can even get started. but then what if i throw away the only person that could ever feel like home? all because i'm a superstitious dummy afraid of getting hurt. i am hurt all the time, i suppose there's not much more to be afraid of at this point. but i do know if you were to look away now it might kill me, and even worse, i might enjoy the decay.
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writingdotcoffee · 3 years
Text
#196: The Shiny Object Syndrome
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You’re working on a story, minding your own business, and out of nowhere, an idea appears in your head. Not just an ordinary idea — a brilliant idea.
The story you’re working on right now has been a real pain. It’s taking forever to write. There’s a plot hole that you don’t know how to fix yet. Merely re-reading a passage from it makes you feel physically ill.
This new idea, though! This one definitely wouldn’t have any of the problems that you’re dealing with right now. You could probably write it a lot faster as well. Why waste time on an inferior story that’s clearly not going anywhere? Maybe you should start working on the new one instead...
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It’s a Trap!
When working on a project, the middle is always the worst. You’re finding all sorts of issues that you don’t know how to resolve yet. You look at what you wrote and are absolutely terrified by how much revision you’ll need to do. It’s not fun.
Starting a new project is loads of fun. You’re excited about the idea. Things are moving fast. And most importantly, you haven’t found any issues with it yet.
Fast forward a few weeks into the new story, things have slowed down considerably. You either ran into the same problems or different ones that are just as annoying. But then you get another idea that just blows this one out of the water...
The More You Write, the More Ideas You’ll Have
This happens to me all the time. I get my best ideas when I’m working on something else. It makes sense — the brain is creatively engaged. All sorts of things come out of it.
The trick is to stay calm, write these ideas down, and don’t act on them until you finish the current project. It’s an unfair comparison — a brand new idea always seems better than the one you currently have. The current idea probably seemed just as brilliant before you started working on it. The only way to find out if an idea is worth anything is to see it through.
Imagine that this happens at work. You come up with an idea and pitch it to your boss. Your boss likes it too, and she trusts you, so she lets you work on it.
A few weeks later, you come back to her.
‘Actually, I don’t like working on this anymore. I’m not sure if it’ll work. It’s weird,’ you say. ‘But you won’t believe this other idea I had. IT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND.’
Making a mistake is one thing. When something doesn’t work out, you learn your lessons and move on. In that case, your boss would look at the work you did and give you credit for trying. Not everything works out. But giving up mid-way through a project for a random reason?
When to Quit?
It’s hard to tell when to stay the course and when to quit. The answer always depends on the situation.
As a writer, you’ll grow the most when you finish a story. Then you’ll see how each of your ideas worked out. You can ask others for feedback. When you abandon your stories too early you miss out on many important lessons.
Should you finish every project that you start? I don’t think so. When you’re 3,000 words into a 150,000-word novel, getting cold feet already — that's a sign.
But before you decide to abandon ship, take an honest look back. How many stories have you finished recently? How many have you abandoned? Maybe this should be the one that you drag over the finish line. You don’t have to publish it. But give the story a chance. It might surprise you.
Want More?
My email subscribers receive a notification when I publish these posts along with a few things I found interesting or helpful on the literary internet every week. Click the link below to join the club.
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Past Editions
#195: Where Do You Get Your Ideas From?, May 2021
#194: Your Inner Critic is Wrong, May 2021
#193: Overnight Success… 10 Years in the Making, May 20201
#192: Why Write?, April 2021
#191: The Best Writing Quotes From the Past Year, April 2021
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txciaz · 3 years
Text
Hi!! So,
it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.
( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )
———
The fall,
The end of everything you once loved
Ethan Winters.
You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -
- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.
Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.
You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—
—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.
Daughters.
God, your daughters.
The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...
...Bela,
Cassandra,
Daniela....
Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.
A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.
You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.
You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.
xxx
And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...
A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...
Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.
It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.
Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.
“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.
Beats for them. For them only.
And they're gone.
So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.
But I'm here.”
You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.
Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.
The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.
With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.
You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.
But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.
And so you do.
You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.
You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.
You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.
The big Lady Dimitrescu,
kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.
“Lady Dimitrescu!”
Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.
“Lady!”
Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.
A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.
“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”
Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.
“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.
Still, she didn't left.
Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”
Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.
“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.
Oh how funny it is, no?
The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.
Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.
An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.
The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.
———
hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,
and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!
( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )
( chapter 2 posted!! )
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saeyoungchoismaid · 4 years
Text
Soothing the brothers when they have a nightmare
Genre: ANGST WTF HAPPENED, fluff Warnings: none other than you might shed a few tears cause I made this so sad wtf A/N: reader is gn! Also my eyes started sweating writing this and I ? don’t ?? know ??? why ???
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Lucifer:
Lucifer never has nightmares
well, almost never 
he rarely gets them though, he swears
he really only gets them if he gets too stressed out 
so, there you both were, fast asleep in each other’s arms 
Lucifer ends up waking you up because he’s moving around too much 
you slowly wake up and open your eyes, squinting them over at him
you rub them before opening them fully, seeing that Lucifer was rustling about with a heavy frown on his face
you’re used to seeing it but not when you two are alone 
you sit up and face him, running your hand through his hair 
should you wake him up?
suddenly, he turns into his demon form, making your eyes widen 
he then awakes, his eyes moving around the room for nonexistent demons
oh, haha
demons lol
he then sees you, suddenly pinning you to the bed with what sounds like a growl 
his sharpened nails dig into your arms, making you cry out
“Lucifer!” you shout, making him snap out of it instantly
he pulls away from you, staring at you in horror
“I’m...I’m sorry. Are you...alright?” he asks, sounding as if he’s in a daze
maybe he is 
“I’m fine. Are you alright?” you whisper, trying to calm your racing heart
he remains silent, refusing to look at you
his demon features slowly disappear, leaving the handsome man that you’re used to  
“C’mere,” you whisper, opening your arms up to him 
he finally looks at you, his eyes holding regret and guilt 
he slowly scoots closer to you, leaning into you
you wrap your arms around him, petting his hair as he lays his head on your chest
his eyes widen when you start to sing to him, his heart doing a trick in his chest 
he’s quick to fall asleep, staying asleep for the rest of the night with no more problems 
Mammon: 
one of the brothers who has the most nightmares 
a lot of them are of you leaving him for one of his brothers
out of all of his fears, that’s the worse one 
so, one day something happened with you two and one of the brothers and he went on one of his jealous tantrums 
you calmed him down and reassured him that he’s the only one for you, per usual 
that night though when you both are asleep, he has a nightmare
his worst fear coming true in the ruined dream 
he starts crying in his sleep, tear after tear falling out of his eyes and to his hairline 
you’re awoken by the sound of sobs, your half-awake brain trying to process what’s going on 
you look to Mammon to find that the noises are coming from him 
your heart breaks at the sight, quickly sitting up to awake him 
you gently shake him, not wanting to startle him too badly 
he slowly wakes up, tears still escaping him even after he opens his eyes 
he looks up at you confused for a moment before suddenly starting to cry harder 
you gently shush him, pulling him to sit up so you can hug him 
“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I got you. You’re safe,” you whisper, assuming something scary happened in his dream 
he shakes his head, pulling away from you 
he surprises you by grabbing your face and smashing your lips to his 
your eyes widen before closing, responding to the passionate kiss 
you both kiss until you can’t breathe, eventually pulling away to get some much needed air 
he refuses to look at you though 
“Don’t ever leave me,” he commands weakly, a lump forming in his throat 
“I won’t. Not ever. You’re stuck with me,” you whisper, wiping at his tears and kissing his forehead 
you both then lay back down, holding each other close and whispering promises that you both swear to keep 
when the conversation comes to end, you surprise him when you start to sing
he falls asleep so fast but not before making you promise to sing to him every night before going to bed 
Levi: 
doesn’t get nightmares except for when he watches, plays, or reads something scary 
Levi is always keeping up with what’s new including every new game, show, movie, and manga 
of course, he got a scary movie and game for a deal 
and then proceeded to binge watch the movie in one sitting 
followed by playing the video game for three days straight without sleeping despite your warnings and protests
but he did it though and boy was he proud of himself 
on the third night, he was absolutely exhausted and collapsed into bed with you and fell asleep right away 
he actually ended up going to bed pretty early, leaving you to play on your phone for a bit until you grew tired 
you just turned your D.D.D off for the night and laid down when Levi lets out a shout and sits up 
you jump and sit back up as well, watching him look around the room wildly 
“Levi?” you call out softly 
his eyes quickly move to you, his body going on the defensive before relaxing when he sees it’s you 
“Oh, hi,” he stutters out, quickly looking away from you 
“Baby? What’s wrong?” you whisper, reaching your hand out to him 
when your hand touches his shoulder, he snatches your wrist up in a vice-like grip 
you cry out, surprised by the sudden pressure squeezing your wrist 
he instantly lets you go, his eyes looking shiny as he looks to you 
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t...I’m not...” he stumbles for words, his breathing getting faster 
you hold your wrist to your chest as you watch him, frowning heavily 
“Baby, shh, hey,” you whisper, slowly reaching out to him again 
this time though, you make sure he sees you reaching for him before actually touching him 
“You’re okay. I’m here with you,” you whisper, gently tugging on his arm to get him to lay back down 
once he does, you cuddle up to him and run your fingers through his hair and over his back 
“Can you distract me?” he asks quietly, feeling embarrassed 
“Of course, baby,” you whisper back, trying to think of what would distract him 
the first thing that comes to mind is singing, so that’s what you do 
you watch his body relax and listen to his breathing slow, a smile coming to your face 
Satan: 
doesn’t really get too many nightmares but sometimes on the days he goes on a rampage he does
all of the negative emotions swirl inside of him even after you calm him down 
so, when you two are going to bed, you mentally prepare for a nightmare
he stares at the ceiling once you both get into bed, a brooding look on his face
“Love,” you whisper, rubbing your hand over his bare chest 
he sighs, refusing to look at you 
“I know. I’ll fall asleep soon. I promise,” he replies softly
you nod your head and close your eyes, keeping yourself close to him 
as you’re laying there and letting your mind wander, you remember the first time he had a nightmare 
he turned into his demon form and almost attacked you 
he loathed himself for a while after that and refused to let you sleep with him for a while 
you both eventually figured out that he got nightmares when he’d go on rampages and uncontrollable anger consumed him 
when you first discovered this, he refused to let you sleep with him after he’s had one 
that led to him waking up and destroying half his library though 
so now, he let’s you stay but to only calm him down 
you trust him not to hurt you 
but he doesn’t
you both eventually drift off to sleep and everything is fine for a couple hours 
and then come the demonic mumblings 
you wake up, seeing he’s already transformed but is still asleep
he’s mumbling in his sleep, it sounding completely foreign to you 
you sit up, your heart starting to beat faster 
maybe he’ll have the nightmare but will stay asleep 
unluckily for you, that’s not what happens 
he awakes with a growl, his eyes searching for imaginary attackers 
or maybe even prey 
when his eyes found you, he growls at you and pins you to the bed 
“Satan,” you say as calmly as you can manage 
something flashes in his eyes, probably recognition, but you can see the complete anger consuming him 
“Love, look at me. It’s me. Your loving and caring partner who promised to help you. It’s okay. Just take deep breaths. I’m right here. I’m here for you,” you say softly, watching as he slowly calms down
his demonic features are gone in a flash, his body coming off of yours 
“I’m sorry,” he says instantly, like he always does 
“Don’t apologize. I’ve told you a dozen times not to,” you say, as you soothingly rub his back 
“What if I hurt you?” his whispers, his voice sounding a little choked 
“Hey, you’ll never hurt me. We both know that. Do you realize how quickly you calmed down this time? You’re amazing, love. I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, your voice full of love for this man 
he sniffles and wipes at his face
you don’t have to see his face to know he’s crying 
you shuffle behind him and wrap your arms around his waist to give him a hug 
you let him cry in peace, not wanting him to feel judged
you decide then to start singing, his crying calming before coming to a complete stop 
he then shuffles to face you, laying you down before putting his face on your chest 
you continue to sing until he falls asleep, one hand running through his hair while the other soothingly rubs random shapes into his back 
Asmo: 
this demon rarely has nightmares 
he actually never got nightmares until he met you 
before you two started dating, he’d have nightmares about you picking one of his brothers to fall in love with 
or that you were disgusted by him that he’s the Avatar of Lust 
after he realizes he’s in love with you, he stops sleeping around and stops making sexual jokes about or towards you 
he doesn’t even make you ‘special’ offers anymore
the brothers are instantly confused before realizing he’s acting like this because he likes you and is serious about you
luckily, you two get together and his nightmares disappear 
but then they come back 
his worst nightmare and fear is of you dying 
you’re a human and it’s going to happen one day 
he avoids thinking about this when awake but when unconscious his brain decides to remind him that it’ll happen 
it doesn’t help that his nightmares include the most gruesome ways for you to die
he hates himself for letting himself fall for a human who can die so easily 
but he can’t help the way his heart races and skips beats for you 
one night, it’s a combination of all his fears 
you fall in love with his brother, Mammon out of all people, dump him, tell him he’s disgusting and revolting, and then you die 
he awakes you with his cries, his body shaking with how hard he’s shaking 
you’ve never seen him cry and you weren’t sure what to do 
you were afraid to wake him up, remembering reading somewhere that it’s not good to do so 
but it breaks your heart to see him like this 
you eventually let your heart beat your brain, gently shaking him 
he awakes with a gasp, wildly looking around and clinging onto your arms with his hands 
he gasps for air, staring at you with fearful eyes filled with tears 
it almost makes you cry, the pain on his face ripping your heart out and throwing it onto the ground 
“Darling, take deep breaths. It was just a dream. You’re okay,” you soothe, wiping his hair off his moist forehead 
he starts to cry harder, making you feel guilty 
why did that make it worse?
your question is answered by his words between his sobs and gasping breaths 
“You aren’t though!” 
his words only make you feel worse and also confused 
you aren’t?
“Darling, I’m fine. C’mon, look at me. Breathe with me. In and out. In and out. There you go,” you say softly, getting him to breathe with you 
you continue your soothing touches on his hair and face, continuing to do the breathing exercises 
once his sobs have stopped, you pull him back into a hug 
tears are still cascading down his face but at least you got him to stop sobbing 
“There we go. Okay, darling, I need you to try again. Okay?” you whisper, gently rubbing his back 
he sniffles and pulls back, wiping at his red nose and eyes and looking at your smile
“You’re going to die,” he whispers, refusing to look at you now
you frown at this, looking down at his hands
you gently take ahold of them, your shoulders growing heavy with the weight of his fears 
“Hey, now. Don’t think like that. I’m going to be around for a long, long time. Even when I do die, I’ll either turn into a angel or demon, right? I can come back.”
his crying suddenly stops, a dumb smile coming to his face 
“Oh, oops. I forgot about that,” he replies softly, giving you a sheepish smile 
guess he avoided thinking about it so much that he forgot that you will come back
you snort and roll your eyes, laying down and pulling him on top of you to rest his head on your chest 
“I know you did. I know that’s not it though,” you whisper
you let him tell you the rest of his fears, reassuring him each time that they’ll never happen 
once you’re done reassuring him, you start to sing to finish soothing him 
he smiles and closes his eyes, falling back asleep with much ease
Beel:
as we all know, this man loves to eat 
because of this, he’s another brother who has frequent nightmares 
certain food could end up giving you a nightmare 
and a late-night snack can signal the brain to be more active, which could lead to more vivid nightmares
Beel doesn’t know this though 
he’ll be sleeping and suddenly wake up from a rumbling belly
he’ll eat something and then go back to bed 
more often times than not, he has a nightmare 
no one but Belphie knows about his nightmares
he normally just had nightmares about Lilith
when you two got together though, it got worse 
he started having you replace Lilith, watching you die in front of him with him being helpless to stop it 
most of his nightmares became about you
when you two started sharing a bed, you found out just how often he has nightmares 
you both decided to figure out what was the cause of it 
with you asleep when he wakes up hungry though, you could never stop him
one day though, he did a vigorous workout and ended up falling asleep very early 
you were doing homework when you heard his stomach grumbling, making you smile
you stand up and head to the restroom, coming back to find wrappers by your bed that weren’t there before 
Beel was still fast asleep too
your brows furrow, wondering if maybe you just didn’t notice the wrappers before
you brush it off, going back to your homework
as you’re finishing it up, you hear Beel start to grunt 
you turn to look at him, seeing his body is thrashing around and sweat is starting to cover him 
you quickly go over to him, wanting to wake him up but not sure if you should
you didn’t have to ponder any longer because before you know it, he’s sitting up with a gasp
he stares up at you, his heart beating wildly 
he then starts to cry, your heart breaking 
“Shh, it’s okay. Hey, you’re alright. Take deep breaths. I’m right here,” you soothe, sitting on the bed to give him a hug 
he hugs you back, practically squeezing the life out of you but you don’t complain 
he cries for a while, holding you to him the entire time
once he calms down, you gently pull away to wipe at his face 
“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper
he shakes his head, looking down at his lap
“Not right now...” he mumbles
you give him a reassuring smile, cupping his cheeks and turning his head to make him look at you 
“That’s okay, love bug. Don’t worry about it,” you reassure, giving him a sweet kiss before laying him down and getting into bed with him 
you then explain what’s causing his nightmares, seeing him frown 
“I’m sorry, Beely. You’ll just have to go back to sleep if you wake up or eat and just stay awake,” you explain 
he nods his head and sighs, pulling you into another hug 
“Thank you,” he whispers
“It’s no problem. Now, go back to sleep. I’m right here if you need me.” 
he nods his head and closes his eyes
you can tell he’s still afraid to fall back asleep despite your reassurances, so you start to sing 
he smiles, his body relaxing as he slowly falls asleep 
Belphie:
with the amount he sleeps, it’s no wonder he occasionally gets nightmares
he usually just had nightmares about not being able to escape the attic and never being able to see his brothers again 
never being able to see Beel again 
then you came to the attic and saved him 
his nightmares disappeared, other than the random ones about fictional things 
but then he actually started to like you 
a human 
and now here he is
in a relationship with said human and madly in love with them 
it sickens him just how much he loves you 
it also causes him more nightmares 
his nightmares now show him getting locked up and never getting to see you again 
or you getting locked up and he has no way to save you 
or that you’ll fall in love with one of his brothers because you got to know them longer than you know him 
with him just falling asleep wherever he pleases, it wasn’t hard for you to discover he has nightmares 
the first time he has a nightmare in front of you, it doesn’t really end well 
you wake him up when he starts to thrash around and scream your name, sweating lining his brow
he pants and looks around before focusing on you 
instead of having you comfort him and let you reassure him that none of that would ever happen 
he gets angry 
this is what he gets for loving a human 
he should stop loving you 
then, they’ll go away 
so, with you staring down at him with those worried and caring eyes, he pushes you away 
“Why did you wake me up? Go away,” he snaps, getting up to leave to hide in his room 
“Belphie, you were having a ni-”
“Leave me alone!” he shouts, quickly moving away from you when you reach out to him 
you retract your hand like he burned you, looking hurt 
he quickly leaves and goes to his room, refusing to look at you with that look on your face
it took a while for him to finally speak to you, to even be around you 
you figured he broke up with you without actually saying so 
you feel relieved when he comes back to you, apologizing 
he refused to talk about his nightmares though 
the next time he has one, you both are sharing your bed
he awakes you before waking up himself 
before he can even say anything, afraid he’ll push you away again, you start to soothe him 
“It’s okay. It wasn’t real. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” 
this seemed to work, his body relaxing as he pulls you into a hug 
to soothe him further, you start to sing which shocks him but definitely works in soothing him 
before you know it, he’s asleep again 
Bonus:
sometimes the bois just wanna have movie night in your room 
they will literally all lay on your bed on top of each other without a care in the world 
Satan has to be on top and not below anyone cause he a dom "I don’t want you on top of me. You smell.”
Lucifer also has to be on top because he is also a dom refuses to let his brothers be above him in any shape, way, or form
Asmo wants to be on the bottom cause he likes being a bottom ‘likes to be warm’
they make Beel go on the bottom too because that man has some heavy muscle mass and they don’t wanna be crushed 
Belphie refuses to even get on the bed and just sleeps on the floor 
when it comes to where you’re going to sit, it’s a war 
some want you on the bottom, others want you on top, and some don’t even want you on the bed and wants you on the floor 
if you’re dating one of the brothers, they get the final say of where you sit 
Mammon, for example, would want you on top of him, so if you want to sit on the bed, you either sit there or else you’re sitting on the floor
Asmo wouldn’t care where you sit as long as he got a good view 
Satan would skin a bish if they even try to touch you during movie night
Lucifer doesn’t even want you on the bed with the other hooligans but if you insist, he will place you on top of him
Levi would want you on him or on the floor. No arguments 
Belphie won’t hesitate to pull you down onto the floor with him 
Beel just wants you to be happy cause he’s best boy™
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sukirichi · 3 years
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sukirichi’s 2.4k milestone event
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weee another milestone and nooo i couldn’t wait for 2.5k because i’m so excited and happy, thank you so much! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ including HAIKYUU this time around yeeeee! also i don’t have a restaurant aesthetic anymore, just kind of goofing around now! REQUESTS ARE OPEN. 
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before you request...
please read about my writings first! it will include the stuff i write and don’t write about. i’m more flexible in nsfw works, so if you really want to try for a kink, just send me in and if the idea is up to my liking, we’ll see how it goes! 
please be patient and nice! if i don’t like the tone of your request or if you’re ‘demanding’ me, aka, “hey, write this for me, this concept...” your ask will immediately be deleted!
no requesting of the same idea to other writers please!
please keep in mind i don’t do too much canon-heavy plots, aka really specific canon events and how they lead up to one another. i don’t read the manga for both jjk and haikyuu ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ
I do not do headcanons anymore. I’m not good at them LMAO.
i feel a lot more laid back in my writings now, so i’ll only be taking requests that i want to write for! the accepted requests will be listed down below as i organize them
you may refer to my first milestone event if you want more ideas for AU requests! you no longer need to include the numbers/spices/ingredients format used in that. just send whatever idea you want ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ
I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU. whichever idea i love the MOST will be turned into a series just because I want to try new things hehe!
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— characters i can write anything for (nsfw & sfw)
: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, choso, ryoumen sukuna, nanami kento
: suna rintarou, kageyama tobio, tsukishima kei, miya twins, kita shinsuke, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, bokuto koutarou, akaashi keiji, tetsuro kuroo
— characters i can only write sfw for
: itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuuta
: kenma kozume
— characters i’m MOST eager to write simp for
: fushiguro megumi, choso, naoya zenin, ryoumen sukuna, gojo satoru
: suna rintarou, kageyama tobio, kita shinsuke, oikawa tooru, akaashi keiji
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accepted requests: (only accepting the ones that interest me for now!)
favorites marked as ⭐
RYOUMEN SUKUNA: hello love!! i know it LITERALLY just came out but would you consider a pt 2 or a drabble for sweet lies? where megumi either catches her and sukuna or she genuinely starts moving on uasdfghj i'm convinced that megumi heard her fucking sukuna in the bathroom <3 anyways pls feel free to ignore me too
RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Ma’am , i beg of u ,,, spare husband! sukuna x wife! reader drabble. I just read your arranged marriage AU and lordddd i’m obsessed. How long did it take for him to take her virginity 😳? i’m so curious as to how that went down read here: black magic [02]
⭐⭐ RYOUMEN SUKUNA:  Yooooo how about Rockstar Sukuna seducing his manager ehehehehe~ 
⭐ RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Ok but... pirate captain Sukuna 👀👀👀 I’m havin some Thots ngl 🥵🤤 I can’t decide whether reader should be the first mate and they’re a kickass Power Couple 💪😎or if she should be a stowaway who gets found out and has to pay for her passage with her body 😩😉
OKKOTSU YUTA: We both be weak for yuuta and toge😩 congrats 2.4k btw. so i'll request that for the event! poly!yuuta and toge. i see that you only write sfw for them so fluff. u can think of anything you want for it..and yes we simp for both of them i love them sm🤧
⭐ OKKOTSU YUTA: Hi saw that your request are open and congrats for the 2.4k !! 🎊 if possible can i please request yuuta having a girlfriend that's his childhood friend? (So like instead of rika it's y/n and she doesn't die) that loves to dote on him cause that boy needs some love. Thank you!! <3 | kiss me more
⭐ OKKOTSU YUTA: Hi can i request a scenario in which inumaki and okkotsu gets hit with a curse(?) That makes them a clone but the clone is a kid and seeing their gf taking care of the baby please thank youuu
INUMAKI TOGE: Toge's S/O being so sad that even when he says "smile" it doesn't work( also saw that in TikTok)
⭐ INUMAKI TOGE: Hi can i request a scenario in which inumaki and okkotsu gets hit with a curse(?) That makes them a clone but the clone is a kid and seeing their gf taking care of the baby please thank youuu
INUMAKI TOGE: We both be weak for yuuta and toge😩 congrats 2.4k btw. so i'll request that for the event! poly!yuuta and toge. i see that you only write sfw for them so fluff. u can think of anything you want for it..and yes we simp for both of them i love them sm🤧
⭐ INUMAKI TOGE: Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta's sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please🥺Maybe they meet one day when she went to visit the school? Or she's a new sorcerer. Aahhhh I can't think of anything so I'll leave it up to your wonderful mind😌 Thank you! And again congrats! | crush
INUMAKI TOGE: SUKI OMG SIREN AU WITH TOGE AND DEAF READERHis voice hypnotizes all who hear it but she’s unaffected and he’s shook lmao 😂 She teaches him human sign language so they can communicate 🥺 maybe when he realizes he likes her he brings her seashells and other shiny things from the sea floor and it’s so cute 🥰 just 🥺🥺 siren Toge 🥺🥺🥺 (DEBATING)
GOJO SATORU: Hello dear Suki! 🤗 congrats on your more than deserved milestone 👏🏼🥳 I know it’s not the restaurant aesthetic anymore but still, thank you for being a Michelin-star chef spoiling the fandom with your food 🤤👀 I’d love to request the following: ingredient 66 with sugar 8 & 9 and Gojou as cherry on top 🥰 some heavy angst with a happy / smutty ending. additional 🍪 for inspiration - „Best friends don’t look at each other the way you look at her. You never know what will happen, tomorrow might be too late“. Have a lovely day dear 💕
GOJO SATORU: Congrats on 2.4K!!!! May I please request a fic where the reader has like. Zero reaction to Gojo? And he’s kinda shook bc people either adore him or hate him, but here’s reader acting like he’s just a normal dude. And he starts falling for her bc he’s never experienced that before
⭐ GOJO SATORU: a reader that likes Gojo but immediately says N O P E bc they clock that he’s at risk of breaking their heart so they just try to avoid getting close to him despite being a teacher stuck with him a lot of the time. And Gojo is just like ??? But I like you??? Why are you always avoiding me? “I’m tired of you acting like I can’t commit to something. Committing to you is easy.”
⭐ GOJO SATORU: ♡Soft nsfw scenario with s/o and gojo while outside is snowing read here: cold
⭐ GOJO SATORU: Ohoho~ another milestone! Congrats~Can I get Vampire!Satoru x Monster Hunter!Reader where he “proves” to her that all of his victims came willingly(I think from the AU choice you’ll know exactly who I am lol 😉)
⭐ GOJO SATORU: hello! first and foremost, congratulations on reaching 2.4k! i love your writing and its just oh my goodness <3 your stories made my heart squeezed! second of all, i'd like to propose a request for a story. fluff/angst (up to you! your way of writing is just superb) mixed with nsfw gojo satoru. a modern business tycoon au where he just lost his wife and is overprotective of his 1 year old toddler. you're his new staff in the office and is treated badly bcs you know, new staff. one day, you stumbled upon your boss and his baby in a shop, who wont stop crying and he took an interest in you when you managed to calm his kid down. he hired you as his babysitter + made you move into his estate. from there, your life changed! also, thank you for accompanying my days with your stories, it's marvelous! 💕
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: okay i thought you might like this idea for the event (or maybe not lol) - naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man's gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ | good girl
NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: Stage magician Naoya and his cute little assistant, where every other trick works to undress or strategically rip her outfit so he can show off his little bunny to the crowd before fucking her brainless backstage
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE:  listen ,,,,, ur naoya hate fic goes crazy stupid may i add something. naoya being overprotective like reader is so pretty and many of the clan men look at them a lottttt and naoya out of nowhere will kiss you in front of them or will grab them in front the maids and workers. then reader becomes mad and they get into an argument and then hate fuck :D lmaoo  (THIS REQUEST PLEASEEEE SEND ME TO HEAVEN) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: Omg Suki! Congrats on the 2.4k! So uhmm I decided to take a break from the Kita/Naoya twin au angst 👉👈 idk if you are still accepting requests but HAS ANYONE EVER MENTIONED OR HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED SUGAR DADDY NAOYA????? 🥺 -🌸
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: Megumi being insecure about his eyes because they are a very light green colour( like in manga) so he wears blue contacts( I saw that on TikTok and... big brain energy)
⭐ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: SUKI, HI! First of all, congrats on 2.4K you absolutely deserve every single milestone coming your way 💞💞If it’s not too much to ask may I request a one-shot with megumi where he’s jealous that his fem!crush is spending more time with Itadori and sees how she enjoys his company a lot but it’s purely platonic? Reader likes megumi too and they both need that push in the right direction?Thanks so much if you decide to write this 🥺💖 I seriously love your writing and your big brain sm
CHOSO: Could you write something with Choso and the reader that has a toxic mother (if that actually exists.  She controls everything the reader does, and plays with her mind/ feelings making her feel like she's the bad one)?But after a fight with the mom, the reader has enough and just leaves deciding they will finally do what they want, ending up at a tattoo shop, where Choso is the tattoo artist.Ngl, i'd like this to be nsfw because i am thirsting for this man ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)Don't really have kink preferences but if you could include size and breeding kink then i'd be hella thankful ☺
GETOU SUGURU: Yo how about a Victorian AU with Gentleman Thief!Getou and Debutante!Reader nsfw 👀👀 maybe she hears something in the dark and goes to investigate and gets pressed to the wall with a knife at her throat 👀🥵
FUSHIGURO TOJI: can we get a part two of the "lessons learned" toji fic 👉🏽👈🏽 maybe him fucking and overstimulating her so hard she cries and begs for mercy but no mercy will be given. maybe he uses the same handcuffs she used for him on her 🥰 maybe some manhandling cause im a hoe for letting a man throw me around
⭐ KAGEYAMA TOBIO (fckin finally): kageyama tobio x reader fic for mutual virginity loss? maybe they just haven’t had time with him being a fancy schmancy volleyball player, maybe there’s just nerves, i don’t know! i’ll leave it up to u babe <3
⭐ SUNA RINTARO: hi!! congrats on the 2.4k HEHE just wanted to request a suna and tattoo/flower shop au? idk just the thought of tattooed suna is like. mm yes
⭐ SUNA RINTARO/AKAASHI KEIJI: hi suki!! i’m so excited for your event! so i rarely ever see someone else who loves both akaashi and suna so i was wondering if you could write something for them! maybe apocalypse au?? or roommate au?? i was thinking y/n could have a relationship/be fuck buddies with one of them and some smutty exhibitionism happens with the other watching, and then some pining that ends in a threesome if you write those! if not, then just a smutty n filthy little love triangle that you can choose an ending for lol (a happy one would be nice bc my heart can only handle so much angst, but really it’s up to you and what inspires you!!) tysm for doing this event and always working so hard <3
⭐ OIKAWA TOORU: hi i love your writing!! can i please request work au (boss oikawa x secretary fem reader?) with degradation and him fucking your in the window 😭💗💗
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marvel-and-mischief · 3 years
Text
Daisies
Part of my Floriography Series
Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader Words: 2700 Warnings: gambling, swearing, alcohol, rough handling by guards, allusions to prostitution (it’s part of a scam), lighthearted punishment in the stocks Synopsis: Pero seems to always be around at the wrong time to sabotage your scams and join in with your punishments. Enemies to Lovers (sorta)
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Daisies: attachment, new beginnings
💐
“Now remember, ten or above wins you double your stake, below ten and your stake is mine.”
The scruffy drunkard sat opposite you let out a bellowing laugh, the nasty stench of his rotten teeth hitting your nostrils. His movements sloshed the tankard of mead in his hand, spilling some of its contents on the table between you. You had to hold back your look of disgust and smile through the uncomfortableness.
“I won’t lose. Throw ‘em, lady,” he slurred. You had to fight off the smirk threatening to show on your face as you shook the two, six sided dice in your right hand. You had nothing to worry about, the dice were weighted, favoring the lower numbers and therefore guaranteeing your win every time. 
“Alright, but when you win you owe me a drink!” you winked cheekily at your mark, catching his eye whilst you threw the dice on the table. The more you distracted them the less chance there was of getting caught in your scam.
The dice came to a stop and you both looked down at the same time; a three and a four, earning a groan of disappointment from the few onlookers that had gathered to watch.
“Better luck next time,” you grinned, gathering up your dice and winnings as the man muttered something unintelligible and grumpily left the table, “anyone else want a go?”
“I will.”
You froze at the voice in your ear and saw the figure of a familiar man take the recently vacant seat opposite you. Pero Tovar always seemed to show up in your life when you least wanted him to. He was an annoying ghost and you could never shake off his haunting. You should gather up your earnings and leave but something kept you rooted to the table. And the longer you took to contemplate your next move, the more the drunkards in the tavern wanted to know what was going on. Soon you’d attracted quite the crowd.
“I said, I want a go.”
You looked into his brown eyes, the ones that sparkled with humor, always at your expense. 
“It may be too difficult for your small brain to understand how to play,” you said through gritted teeth.
“Then let us play a different one. I will throw the dice, and if the total is lower than ten, I win every penny you have taken tonight.”
The bastard. The only reason he would suggest playing it that way was if he knew how you were cheating the game. You clenched your jaw in frustration. 
“I think I am ready to take my leave-“
“But we have an audience!” Pero smirked, raising his voice and waving a hand at the tavern full of people who hurrahed, eager for you to throw the dice. You were cornered, physically by the wall of people around you and mentally by Pero who knew if you refused the game it would look suspicious. 
“Fine,” you grumbled, faking an over the top smile, twirling the dice in one hand and clenching your other hand into a fist under the table. Stay calm, don’t show him how much he was getting to you, you told yourself. You’d chase him down afterwards and with a knife to his throat take your money back. That would show him.
You dropped the dice on the table and leaned back in your seat to see Pero staring at you. You didn’t need to see the dice to know you had lost, the weights that usually worked for you were against you this time, and the tavern goers yelled in surprise and delight, some were even joyfully patting Pero on the shoulder in congratulations. All the while Pero was smiling at you, self satisfied at playing you at your own game. 
You pulled the drawstring bag off your hip and threw it across the table, hitting Pero in the chest. 
“Better luck next time,” Pero mocked your earlier words, “would you like a drink to drown your sorrows in?” Pero threw the bag of coins in the air and caught it successfully. 
“Oh bugger off, Pero,” you hissed, leaving the tavern in a huff. You didn’t want to see him again this night. You’d get him back next time.
-
The boy was young, still a teenager but old enough to know better. His clothes were of the finest materials, gold threads held the pieces together and added beautiful patterns to the front and shoulders of the jacket. He even had a long, shiny feather in his cap. He stuck out in the crown like a sore thumb.
You had been scouting the market for marks all morning and he was the only person you thought worthy of relieving of coin. He had a guard with him, who was more interested in looking at the women walking by, and his coin purse was dangling enticingly down by his hip. It would have been much easier for a child to run along and snip the string with a knife but the only ones you’d found were hand in hand with their parents. So you were on your own.
You were hidden down the side of a building, in the shadows and away from prying eyes. Or so you thought until you caught the flash of a grin out the corner of your eye.
Pero Tovar was mirroring your position on the other side of the marketplace, the wealthy man in the middle of you both. Pero moved his gaze to said man and it was then you knew he was after your mark. 
It had been only a couple of nights since he took all your money at the tavern and you’d be damned if you were going to let him swindle you of even more coin. You had to get to the mark before Pero did, by any means necessary. 
You tried to plead with him, subtly shaking your head but all Pero did was lean against the wall and offer you a warning glare. 
The mark was buying a trinket from a stool, handing his purchase over to the guard to carry and looking around for where to go next. This was your only chance. 
You untied the string at the top of your tunic, letting it open up to display your chest more than you would usually allow. But you needed a distraction and a way of getting close to the man without suspicion. You pulled out the small scissors from your boot and held them comfortably in your dominant hand, shaking down your sleeve to keep them out of sight.
You tried to ignore Pero but as soon as you slipped out of the alley he did the same, heading directly for the wealthy man. 
Unfortunately whilst you were gaining speed through jogging movements, Pero’s purposeful strides were larger than yours, meaning you both reached the man at the same time. 
“Sir, could I offer my services-“
“You seem too respectable to want the services of a harlot-“
“Harlot? Excuse me, I am so sorry, this ruffian-“
“Ruffian! You should show some respect-“
Your attempts to get close enough to grab the purse were scuppered by Pero subtly pulling you away with a hand around your waist. And as much as you tried to pry him off you, he was strong and stubborn, rendering your scam completely useless. The wealthy man’s guard dragged him away with a growl in your direction to stop you from pursuing them.
“What was that!?” Those words had been on the tip of your tongue but Pero spoke them first. You looked at him with a confused frown.
“What?”
“What were you thinking? That guard could have killed you.”
“Oh do not pretend you care for my health, you wanted that purse to yourself.”
“I did, but when I saw you were going to get yourself in serious trouble I had to come and save you instead of getting the coins for myself. You are welcome, idiota.”
You stared at Pero in disbelief. Was he expecting gratefulness? You couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.
“I have been doing this for years and I haven’t gotten caught once. I would appreciate it if you didn’t save me again,” you huffed, tying up the strings of your shirt before stomping away from him. 
If you never saw Pero Tovar again it would be too soon.
-
You were mad. But you were mad that Pero was right more than you were mad at your actual predicament. 
You had been playing a simple card trick on an unsuspecting traveller, one that you’d played hundreds of times, it had never gone wrong. Somehow the extra card up your sleeve (the one you used to cheat with) had slipped out and fallen to the floor and a guard that had been watching had spotted it and arrested you before you could run.
So that was how you found yourself in the stocks all morning, set in the middle of the courtyard of the castle grounds for everyone to laugh at. A few delighted children had thrown various rotten vegetables in your face, most adults had taken pity on you and walked on by. Your back was hurting from being hunched over, your feet were aching on the hard, stone ground. But none of that compared to the pain of seeing your foe being dragged towards you. 
“Please, I beg you, this is punishment enough, do not put that man anywhere near me.”
“Anyone would think you hated me,” Pero grumbled, humor in his voice despite being guided towards his punishment.
You felt the top half of the stocks lifting off the back of your neck, a second of relief, as the guards situated Pero next to you. His hand was so close to yours you could touch him, not that you wanted to. The stocks were dropped down and locked in place and the guards left you alone.
“You bring me nothing but bad luck,” you mumbled, huffing as you shifted on your feet.
“Because I was not there to save you this time?” You could hear the smirk in his voice which irritated you.
“Because I have never been caught, and then you start showing up everywhere I go and I am caught, and to make things worse, I have to be punished next to you!” You laughed humorlessly, narrowly dodging a handful of what smells like horse manure. You shoot a glare over to the man who threw it.
“Carino,” Pero clicked his tongue and you felt his hand sweep against yours, “these rotten potatoes are preferable to your whining.”
You gasped and tried to flick at his hand but it only hurt your bruising wrists.
“When I get out of here I am going to find the biggest vegetable, fresh from the ground, and throw it at you.”
Pero laughed a large, belly rumbling laugh that surprised you. 
“Why are you laughing?” you asked, baffled at his sudden turn of emotions, but it didn’t deter him from laughing more. 
It was the second plop of manure hitting the top of your head that had you joining in with Pero. The ridiculousness of the situation, the bickering between you, and your damn hand kept knocking into his. It was all so silly.
You spent the rest of the morning in fits of giggles with the man you thought you hated.
-
You were thrown down the steps of the dungeons, your knees hitting the hard, dirty floor before you were hauled back to your feet to be taken to the cell that would be yours for the night.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” was the voice that greeted you. You saw him sitting in the corner of the cell, a growing bruise on his jaw and stripped of his leather outer garments. He looked softer in just a shirt and breeches, more vulnerable but also kinder. Like any ordinary man, not the pain in the ass you knew him to be. You chuckled at the sight of him.
“Your life would be boring without me,” you teased, but Pero nodded his agreement. You plopped down next to him with a sigh, stretching out your legs and feeling the soreness of your knees as you rested them. You rubbed at the tenderness over your skirts. 
“Are you hurt?”
“Some scrapes, that is all,” you assured him, but his eyes lingered where you were soothing your burning knees, “how did you end up in here?”
“Not my fault,” you raised a sceptical eyebrow, “a drunkard started a fight with me.”
“And where is this drunkard?” you asked suspiciously, looking through the bars into the other cells, all of which were empty.
“He passed out. The guards did not want to drag his useless body in here.”
You hummed, clearly not believing his tale. He rolled his eyes at you, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing.
“And you?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you end up in here?”
You sighed, remembering what had happened.
“A noblewoman thought I was going to steal her purse.”
“You were not going to steal her purse?”
“No!” You feigned looking scandalised at the mere suggestion, before dropping the act, “I was going to steal her dog.”
Pero guffawed, not expecting you to say such a thing.
“Her dog?”
“It would have been worth more than the coins in her purse.”
Pero rubbed at his tired eyes. You listened to the sounds around you; the guards gossiping outside the dungeon door, a rat squeaking somewhere nearby, the rhythm of Pero’s breathing. It was the first bit of peace you’d had in a long time.
“If we get caught again they will not simply throw us in the dungeons,” Pero whispered ominously. 
You couldn’t disagree with him, but there weren’t many other options for people like the two of you. You were wanderers and loners. You had no money, no home, no family. What choice did you have?
You glanced at Pero who was already looking at you. He looked defeated, with dark bags under his eyes and his lips turned ever so slightly downwards, he looked how you felt. Hopeless and alone. 
“We keep running into each other. That must mean something,” you claimed, feeling stupid as soon as the words came out. You quickly looked away and waited for him to mock you.
“You think this is God’s will?”
You shrugged and began picking at the dirt on your skirts.
“Perhaps we should do something about it.”
“Like what?” you asked, allowing your tone to lift in hope. 
“If we are meant to be, maybe we should get out of this town and find another.”
“Together?”
“Why not?”
You looked at Pero then. There was no teasing in his eyes or smirk on his lips, he was being deadly serious. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of sticking with Pero from now on. However, you couldn’t make it too easy for him. 
“Well for one, I’d be stuck with your ugly mug.”
Pero grinned and let out a deep, throaty chuckle. 
“I would wager my ugly face is better than the hangman's noose.” 
The room became sombre once more as you realised what your options were. You had to leave town, but you could either do that alone or with the man whose company you were beginning to enjoy. 
You felt Pero nudge your side and you saw he was holding a single daisy up to you. 
“Do you carry flowers at all times?”
“No, idiota, they are growing in the walls,” with an amused shake of his head he carefully placed the small flower behind your ear and leaned back to admire his work.
After your initial shock you smiled your thanks and he smiled back. 
“Bonita,” Pero muttered and leaned his shoulder against yours as he settled back against the cold, damp wall.
You think you could get used to sticking by his side. 
Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @computeringturtle
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gabriel4sam · 3 years
Text
Not love at first sight (But love at the sixty-third life defying idiocy), a CodyWan story
Written for @swbigbang, with the help of @kitcatkim in the role of the patient beta and @outernorth for artist (art just there)
Because all the other members of their small outpost were not in shape (read, hungover), Cody and Obi-Wan go on a small, simple, totally not possibilities of explosions supply run.
Cody comes back with a headache the size of Coruscant, a new hate of insectoids life. And a brand new significant other, in the shape of his exasperating General
 It’s not a hangover, it’s a hecatomb. Whatever Boil had put in his new still was a terrible, terrible idea. The entire Separatist Council could do pointes in tutus on the flight deck and the vode would neither see it, nor care about it.
Cody and Obi-Wan were the only ones not drinking the day before, them and the communication officers on duty. The communication officers because they were working, and Cody and Obi-Wan, well, because they like the occasion for the men to feel free, and they can’t with their superior officers in their company.
That doesn’t mean the men are supposed to feel free enough to incapacitate the whole bunch of idiots they are apparently in charge off.
“Latrine duties, the first time we do planet fall. The whole of them.” Cody grumbles, assessing the damage with a cold, clinical eye.
“How does that even work? Does every man have latrine duties for his own latrines? Do you make them install as many latrines as they are? ” Obi-Wan remarks. He’s the usual calm and composed Jedi Master Cody knows on the outside, but the Commander is pretty sure he’s laughing on the inside. Cody had met Quinlan Vos, ok? And he poured enough hard liquor in the man to obtain confidences. Confidences which horrified him, Obi-Wan had even less survival instincts than Cody thought, but confidences he can’t un-hear. He will know forever!
Or at least, he will know until a luckier droid kills him. Cody is not an optimist about clones living long, happy, fulfilling lives. He has eyes after all and a functioning brain.
Cody glares at Obi-Wan, just in case. He has learnt, in the two years since he took his position with his General, that Jedi react pretty well to glaring. Not that it stops them from doing stupid stuff, but at least, they feel guilty about it.
If they like the glaring party only. Commander Ponds had a lot of things to narrate about Mace Windu and the horrible, horrible conglomerate mogul.
Obi-Wan takes his most innocent air, something Cody stopped believing two days in their acquaintance, when his newly minted General had destroyed a whole block of warehouses on an unnamed moon and made a grown Hutt call for its parent. It had been a bad month for Obi-Wan. No need to judge. When innocents are in danger, the cost of the repairs is less a problem and more a number for the politicians to handle. And yes, Obi-Wan knows the money used could certainly be used in other useful ways, but no amount of credits could ever buy a life, in the eyes of a Jedi. But that day, when Cody, after a few, very stressful hours of radio-silence, had finally gotten back his General, slightly charred, the hostages, hungry and thirsty and exhausted but all of them in one piece, and a terrified Hutt, in the middle of a devastated battleground, he had understood better the warning of Alpha-17. There, Cody had sworn in petto to never underestimate his Jedi, despite the irreproachable manners, the swishing hair and the smile of a holo-star.
Together, they take the time to check every soldier, to make sure nobody was busy drowning in their own fluid because they were too hangover/still drunk, to roll over. Everybody is alive, and the communication officers are getting ready to do a double shift, and ready to nib their vode about it later.
“It’s a good thing we’re on down time,” Obi-Wan remarks, “I must confess, despite the talents of your brothers, I’m not quite sure we could withstand an attack from Grievous and his various cronies right now.”
“We would get our asses handed to us, you mean.”
“Exactly.”
Obi-Wan cautiously touches  one of the abandoned drink containers, with more care than he gives to explosives.
“What did he put in this thing?” he asks, fascinated.
“You’re not testing it!” Cody immediately retorts, because he knows his Jedi, “not in the name of science, curiosity or whatever.”
Obi-Wan touches the container a second time.
Cody could swear the thing moves in return, like it wants to be pet. Obi-Wan hums, his face interested and he leans a little more in the direction of the container. If the thing starts growing whatever strange means of locomotion is on its mind, Cody is using his blaster, no matter the General’s opinion. That’s how bad holo-dramas start, with an unknown thing unleashed on an unsuspecting ship/outpost/space station. He refuses to star in one of those plot-lacking dramas his brother Wolffe pretends he doesn’t love.
The thing doesn’t move anymore and Obi-Wan loses interest and goes back to helping troopers into their quarters and their bunks.
Cody helps, but that doesn’t mean he’s not plotting terrible retributions. He knows the last few weeks have been pretty hard, the hardest in a long time, that’s one of the reasons Obi-Wan and himself made themselves scarce last night. 
Now, they have a week just waiting for the Negotiator to come pick them up. One week for the men to rest and to heal and perhaps to train lightly…but that’s no reason for the sort of screw-up Cody is seeing right now. Boil and his still should be transferred from the 501th and put into whatever part of the army that handles studies about biological warfare. Biological warfare that the Republic officially doesn’t indulge in, studying it only as a way to protect its worlds against it. But Cody isn’t convinced. He has a lot of questions he will never ask about parts of the army which are not led by Jedi, and that the Jedi are trying, with no success, to have access too. Obi-Wan has promoted him so much that the Commander now has access to documents he’s pretty sure nobody thought a clone ever would. He’s staying silent for now. If the Jedi need help with that, if they fail, the vode will try, but Cody is keeping this ammunition in reserve. He can only fire it once, because when natural-borns who aren’t Jedi realize exactly how much power Obi-Wan and the Jedi council has given him and some of the other commanders, they will try to strip them of it, he just knows it.
At the end, everybody is moaning in their bunks, or manning communication, and Cody and Obi-Wan raid the nice rations, the ones with the green seals, no less food of unkown origins than the rest of it, but certainly the tastiest. They sit down at the entry of the outpost, sharing a canteen of water between them. They don’t talk, most of the time they don’t need to.
Cody isn’t really hungry but it’s easier to trick Obi-Wan into eating something when those who surround him do too. The warmth of the sun, the sounds of nature, the nice, and so rare, oh so rare, knowledge that they have a little free time instead of having to run to put out another fire. All of this is making Obi-Wan soften, like a carving of stone suddenly becoming pliable.
“Commander?” Cody’s holocom disturbs them, and Cody startles, suddenly realizing he was lost in the light playing into the copper of Obi-Wan’s hair.
“It’s nothing, really nothing probably,” the shiny in charge of this particular console explains to them, “ one of the new models of probes  should have been back twenty minutes ago. I tried to raise it per the procedure, but it isn’t answering.”
“We’re supposed to be alone on this world,” Obi-Wan remarks, a line forming between his brows.
“They are still working the kicks out of this model,” the shiny admits, “that’s why we used them specifically on this planet where they are in no danger. We’re supposed to go back with all of them, for study, to hammer out the last problems.”
The line between the General’s brows is growing deeper.
“I will make a report to the Council about the danger it could pose to you, to send any vode on the field with materials not totally ready, and the Jedi Order will issue a formal protest.” His shoulders are tense. No matter the number of tries, the Jedi are blocked at every corner in the Senate in their efforts to better the life of the clones, even in the small things and it’s a terrible possibility that this time will be the same.
“You know what? We should go check ourselves,” Cody decides, because he wants to erase that line, that tension. “Since Boil poisoned the men, we could do it. A little trek in fresh air before breathing the recycled air in the Negotiator again.”
“Oh Cody, I can do it myself,” Obi-Wan offers immediately, “you don’t have a lot of free time-“
“Funny, I would have sworn you didn’t know the concept…”
“I am perfectly capable of knowing when my body needs down time.”
“That’s not what Master Erin said.”
And that’s how they leave the base.
It’s almost noon, birds or other small things Cody can’t honestly identify are chirping, the air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is only slightly purple, with no risk of rain. No matter how many worlds he sees, Cody is still out of countenance on worlds where the combination of gases in the atmospheres and stars emitting other waves than the Kamino sun combine to give entire landscapes strange colours. Most of the time, he’s wearing his helmet which filters the strangeness of it, and it’s only at the end of the battle, when he takes it off, that he realizes everything is weirdly green-tainted.
Also, he’s pretty sure Arc Trooper Fives was lying when he told him once he visited a world on a body guarding mission with his own Jedi were everything was glittering. He’s not putting any money on it, because Skywalker and his men were guarding the Naboo Senator. From what Cody observes, when Naboo people enter the scene, glitter just happens. He also thinks Fives is much better being Rex’s problem than his own.
Most of their supplies have already been packed for retrieval, so Cody and Obi-Wan only took one hover bike out, and for now Obi-Wan is piloting, Cody behind, and the Commander is beginning to think he made a tactical error. The plastoid of his armour is supposed to stop him from feeling Obi-Wan’s warmth, but Cody could swear he can still feel it. For all that the Jedi can seem aloof and strange, nothing makes him remember his General is flesh and blood than encircling a linen-warped waist with his arms.
 The world passes around them, the colours of the trees, the playful course of the clouds in the sky, the peaceful scenery of a wild world, with its inherent qualities and defaults. Cody likes those worlds better, untouched by sentient life. Growing up in the sterility of Kamino, there is something intoxicating in nature running its course, forests giving way to meadows, biotopes decided by climates and geology, and not by a careful hand arranging them for the maximal profits in their exploitation.
Cody understands about the need for fresh territory, with the growth of population, but certainly, certainly the most carefully hidden part of him insists quite vehemently, there must be another solution than the desolation of grey and pollution that is Coruscant. Something else than seeing the poorest people of the Republic living in deplorable conditions, never seeing the fresh green of a new leaf, as the richest ones can sample the delights of nature in carefully constructed reserves?
More and more, Cody is curious about the Agricorps, and their works to restore degraded biotopes, but he had the vague impression, when he asked questions about it to his General, that it’s a difficult subject for him.
Probably, Obi-Wan wanted to go into the Agricorps and they didn’t want him to, for whatever reasons. Cody thinks it’s more glorious to restore nature and to help feed a community than to go to war, like Obi-Wan is doing right now, or to negotiate treaties, which he vaguely thinks is Obi-Wan’s job in time of peace.
Cody’s thoughts drift gently as the journey continues, going from nature’s beauty to the exact shade of Obi-Wan’s hair when he has been under a natural sun for more than a few hours. The way the copper of it becomes richer and richer…. After a little less than two hours, they switch pilots, and Cody does his best to keep his thoughts on track. It would be stupid to crash just because he’s distracted by a flight of birds taking off with the noise of the bikes, no matter how graceful they are. He concentrates on piloting, and not on the presence of Obi-Wan behind him, his arms around Cody, and not in the colours of the forest around them, and the bucolic impression of their little expedition.
The last known position of their wayward probe put it next to a small lake, four hours away on hover bike, at the base of the mountainous regions. If this part of the world was in winter season, the most logical reason for their missing probe would be a mudslide.  Cody told in his reports time and time again that the probes should fly higher, that the field itself is much less friendlier than believed in the labs, but apparently nobody listens to him.
It’s the end of spring on this part of the planet, the probe was probably eaten by a giant fish, or something equally undignified.
They unseat on a single beach, the last known location. No more probe there than dignity and decency in the Senate. Nothing. No blackened hull of the thing if it had exploded under mysterious circumstances, best known as shoddy work in the conception. Not even a trace they could track back.
Cody turns on himself, surveying the landscape. Vegetation, mountains, peaceful lapping of water on the beach, more mountains with their snowy capes, a lot of weird looking trees. For a vacation, it would be peaceful. For missing military equipment, it’s sadly lacking.
“By incredible luck, you wouldn’t sense our missing flying friend in the Force?” Cody asks, because that would simplify things. That would simplify things, so of course the answer is no. As Obi-Wan struggles with putting together the scanner, Cody gathers pieces of driftwood, intending to start a fire. If they have to circle on foot, on uneven ground, to find the probes, nothing says they can’t do it after another meal next to a warm fire. In the harsh reality of war, Cody has learnt to wisely enjoy the few moments of peace, and he would very much like to teach that skill to his General. Obi-Wan is supposed to have decades of experience in him, but apparently he’s not aware that every sentient has their limits.
Cody is less than twenty meters from the Jedi and the hoverbike, facing Obi-Wan, his arms already full of a nice load when he sees Obi-Wan let go of the scanner, which tumbles on the stones, and turns to him, a hand already at his waist, reaching for his lightsaber.
“Cod-“ Obi-Wan yells, but the sound doesn’t reach Cody, as the stones give way under him, shifting in a dip of grey sand and Cody is gulped down like Master Yoda gobbles a small fish.
For a second, he can’t breathe, there is sand everywhere around him, on his skin, in his mouth, infiltrating his armour by the neck, and the wood in his arms squeeze against his ribs. He feels he’s gonna get crushed alive and he struggles with all his strength. Death has always been the end but he wanted to leave in combat. He can feel unconsciousness threatening and just before it would take him, he’s spit up violently and he rolls over with the momentum, the driftwood, the sand, and a few bits of the armour which didn’t survive the experience.
He can see someone lean over him, no more than a silhouette, because it’s so dark, he can feel the sand under his head, and also the head wound and the blood seeping out of it, and he takes a long breath, and it burns, all the way to his lungs, and then he knows no more.
For a long time, Cody floats. He dreams. Or he hallucinates.
He’s on Kamino again and he learns the world is without mercy for him and his brothers.
He’s training and he can feel Alpha-17’s eyes on him, pensive.
He’s very young and he doesn’t understand where the last of his batche went.
He’s older and he’s meeting his first Jedi, General Tii, and she always has a nice word for every clone, but her eyes are terribly sad every step she takes on Kamino.
He’s meeting Rex and their friendship soars instantly.
He’s seeing brothers dying and he’s seeing rescues and the world is a never ending war, but Cody refuses to let that be the only thing his brothers will know. He watches and he checks and he learns and he places his brothers the best he can, and he’s evaluating Jedi and people, and planets and his mind never stops.
Cody wakes up. General Plo Koon is leaning over him and Cody lets relief seize him, until he realizes something is wrong. No eye covers, no breathing masks, and as much as Cody can see in the very low light, the thick leathery hide acting as skin is much lighter than Plo Koon’s. A Kel Dor, but not the Jedi Master that the Wolffe’s pack would follow to the end of the galaxy and beyond.
After a few seconds of his brain going round in circles, it finally stops at a very important point: Kel Dor and humans don’t breathe the same atmosphere, and this Kel Dor is without breathing apparels. Cody goes to put a hand on his mouth in instinctual movement, like he could stop himself from suffocating, but the other lays a hand on Cody’s forearm, his entire body language non-threatening, and says something he can’t understand. That’s when Cody realizes something translucent is surrounding his head, like a bubble inflating and deflating with every breath he takes. He pokes it, very carefully. It’s flexible, slightly sticky and it smells earthy, a little like those mushrooms his General insisted he try once, when he took him to his friend Dex dinner.
Cody takes a careful breath. He doesn’t die in terrible suffering, so he takes another one. The air entering his lungs still seems appropriate for his species. He tries to sit up, moving very slowly to make the stranger understand he’s not attacking, and the Kel Dor helps him.
Seated, he can better observe the place around him. He has been placed on a pallet of light fur, in some sort of carved place, the walls decorated, not in paint, but in carving, and his armour is against one of the walls, carefully stacked. Cody wants to touch his head, where he was hurt, but once again the Kel Dor stops him before he touches the bubble. The only light comes from a small clay bowl full of sizzling oil, where a wick has been adapted. It doesn’t give enough light to help Cody see more than the small room and a crude overture in the stone, leading to more darkness. He can’t even study perfectly the features of the Kel Dor, more than to be sure it’s definitely not Master Koon.
The Kel Dor says something again and Cody makes a frustrated noise.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language.” The other doesn’t seem to understand that, so Cody tries Mando’a, with the same result. 
He tries the Galactic Sign Language, no results. 
He knows a few signs of the Alderaan Sign Language, the one from their Southern Hemisphere. Queen Organa taught him a few lessons once during a lockdown in the Royal Palace when he was guarding her, between grumbling about clones’s rights and what her husband better do about it in the Senate, and Cody learns fast. The Kel Dor still doesn’t react in any useful way.
“A common language would be pretty useful to know if I’m your guest or your prisoner,” Cody jokes. Sarcasm now. He’s spending too much time with his General.
He shifts, trying to see if he will be stopped from standing, but the other only helps him, carefully arranging on Cody’s torso the ending of the bubble. Now that Cody studies it more attentively, he’s sure the stuff is organic. It’s like they forced his head and the superior part of his torso into some sort of ring of weird looking mushrooms, the mycelium of one of them extended around his head. If this is producing oxygen for him, he really doesn’t want to disturb it.
The world tilts when he stands up but the Kel Dor pushes a shoulder under Cody’s arm and they go out. When Cody passes his armour, he fetches his blaster, and the other doesn’t stop him. Either he doesn’t understand it’s a weapon, or he doesn’t think Cody will attack him. Her? Them? Are Kel Dol gendered beings?
Exiting the small room, Cody can’t see. Everything is dark around them. He can hear movements and the air around him has the quality of an enormous space. A cave, he would think, but the little lamp his new friend has in his claws is not enough.
“Of course,” Cody remarks, “your eyes are much much better. You don’t need a bank of lamps.” He almost jumps when someone joins them and if his head wasn’t still ringing, he probably would have attacked, but it’s only another Kel Dor, smaller, with a skin more brown. They ask something to the first one, but again, there is no sense for Cody.
He’s guided to a stone bench and the little lamp is pushed into his hands. Kel Dor are going in and out of the little circle and Cody tries to evaluate how many of them there are, but he’s, to his great shame, not good enough to distinguish between the Kel Dor easily. He can isolate one or two who have more evident features for a human, like one missing an arm, but the rest of them, all dressed in a very similar way with some furs identical to those Cody woke up on, and the alien features. Cody feels anger against himself. He judges natural borns for not making an effort to distinguish between the vode, despite their efforts to gain their own identity by tattoos or dyes, and he shouldn’t be victim of the same bias.
Finally, someone sits next to him. Cody studies their face, trying to commit them to memory.
 People don’t seem unfriendly. He’s pretty sure the one he woke up with is some sort of local healer, and that it is this one who came back to him several times. Children even come to him, chattering in their language in a way which makes him think of the younger ones on Kamino, before some of their batches started to disappear and they started to understand what their fate in the world would be. A particularly daring little one climbs onto his lap and Cody looks around, ready to see the parent arrive and take its offspring from the strange being. But this community seems so peaceful nobody sees a problem with the child on the stranger's lap.
The little one shows him his treasure, a cube deeply carved with symbols Cody can’t decipher. Of course. In a world without sun, carving must be a medium and painting, or writing, must be inexistent.
“It’s a very nice cube,” he says to the little one, whose gender he can’t decipher. If Kel Dor have gender. He’s pretty sure he heard once that the biggest number of genders registered for a sentient species was eight, and the smaller zero, but he has no idea for this species.
The child seems pretty happy with the answer, even if they can’t understand it any more than Cody can understand their own opinion, expressed in an uninterrupted flow.
Around him, he can vaguely perceive people going about their day. How calm. How reposing. Nevertheless, peaceful or not, Cody can’t breathe the same atmosphere as them, and the strange organic concoction they put on his head to help will soon find its limits. He’s getting thirsty, for once, and he can’t drink without taking the thing off, which he can't. And that’s not even thinking about his General, who must be trying to reach him by any means the Force gives him.
If he knows Cody is alive.
No, no, he must know.
And even if the Force, whose exact limitations Cody is quite unsure of, even if the Force can’t tell Obi-Wan Cody is alive, Obi-Wan is not exactly a man to just go back to the outpost and declare him dead. He will search and search and search, and bring Cody back alive to his vode, or his body for his brothers to honour.
Cody knows: it had been a terrible row between the Jedi on one part and the Kaminoan and the Senate on another, this refusal to abandon dead clones bodies to the elements.
And, to the surprise of the Senate who was in the habits to bully the Jedi for centuries, the Jedi hadn’t budged. But Cody had seen what it had cost them: the Senate had made them pay, in late important reports who the Jedi needed for the war efforts, on refusal of important supplies, suddenly labelled unessential…
So, Obi-Wan is searching for him at the moment, and Cody needs to go to him. The ringing in his head, present since he woke up, has slightly diminished, and he has walked with more grievous wounds.
The question is now: how to mime exit to the Kel Dor, how to ask for a guide? Because if he has to feel around the cave until he finds an exit, he will, but that would be so much easier.
“Hoping there is an exit into your cave, little one,” he says to the child, who is falling asleep on his lap, “because if I have to drill through the roof to the exterior of the planet, it’s gonna cause breathing problems for your city.”
An adult approaches them, a long plaid in their hands, and they mime Cody putting it around his shoulders. Instead, Cody wraps the little one in it and puts the resulting bundle into the adult’s arms.
“I don’t suppose you could send me to the nearest exit?” He asks, and of course, the Kel Dor doesn’t have an answer.
He takes the little lamp and leaves to explore. He can’t see well more than two meters from the circle of light, and even with it, his eyes are struggling.
Soon, he’s stopped by a wall, which he follows until he finds a low door, with only a curtain. He risks an eye, feeling quite voyeuristic, but he only sees something resembling a storage space, big amphoras against a wall.
He continues to follow the wall, finds another one, loses himself in what is a succession of low houses. Above him, the roof of the cavern is still invisible and he can’t see the walls. He finds another little place with stone benches.
Or is it the same?
No, even underground, Cody is sure of his sense of direction. It’s another one place, and the city is bigger than he thought possible. He’s also walking way too slowly, because of the problem of light and his still ringing head.
“Kriff,” he whispers, sitting down on one of the benches.
“Obi-Wan, please find me,” he whispers before scolding himself. He’s no melodrama maiden, he is perfectly capable of finding the surface again by himself.
A burly Kel Dor approaches him, mushrooms in his claws and says something.
“I’m sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Cody tries to explain. The other sits next to him and gesticulates to the mushrooms helping, he thinks, him to breath, and when Cody doesn’t do anything, he starts placing the ones he brought against the first ones. They seem to merge in a frankly disgusting scene which is probably mushrooms porn.
“Does that mean you need to change them regularly for me to breathe?” Cody asks, despite knowing he won’t receive an answer he can understand.
 To add another problem to the long list Cody is already shouldering on, the cave floor starts to tremble and people start yelling.
People are yelling, and despite the language barrier, Cody can understand the panic with no problems.
The soil beneath his feet grumbles again. There is a sound like a rockslide, and more yells, and terror is the taste at the back of Cody’s throat, because he still can’t kriffin see.
Finally, the trembling is so terrible he’s thrown on his knees and the sound reaches a crescendo as a great light emerges from the rock soil, three hundred meters from where Cody is kneeling. It’s some sort of giant worm, with a maw higher than Cody. It roars and glows even brighter, the bioluminescence of its chitin almost dazzling for Cody himself.
 All around Cody, Kel Dor are yelling and struggling on their feet with great difficulties, as the rock soil is still trembling. The beast roars again and it sounds like a thousand ships taking off at the same time in the confined environment. As Cody is helping a Kel Dor to their feet, the pandemonium reaches an even higher spike as another worm emerges, further than the first, and the quake of the rock sends them flat on their bellies.
Cody really regrets letting Boil distribute his production yesterday, what he wouldn’t give for ten men and a rotary canon right now! Even for Hardcase, who he’s really happy is most of the time Rex’s problem, and his tastes for explosives.
He hoists himself more or less vertical, swearing all he can at the same time. He helps the Kel Dor to their feet again and then assesses the situation.
The lights of the worms let him have a good gaze for the first time at the enormous cavern they are in and the low buildings in it. Behind them he can even see big overtures, probably an entire network of caverns. An entire city in the dark, deep in the soil, protected from the outside world and its atmosphere which the Kel Dor can’t breathe, and from the Republic scanners which never knew they were there.
Protected from the sun, too.
And now that the light has come to them in the form of predators, they are defenceless. Cody can see people trying to flee, with a hand on their eyes, and with no success. By the time Cody has succeeded in approaching the scene of the disaster, at least three Kel Dor have been swallowed.
One of the worms, the closest, roars again and Cody doesn’t lose time: the maw, unprotected by the chitin covering the body, seems like a perfect target.
He raises his blaster and fires.
Another roar, even more deafening, as blood splatters all around in a gorish scene. A good part of the mandible has exploded, but the beast isn’t dead. It strikes, trying to gobble Cody like it did the poor Kel Dor. The difference is that the Commander can see in the light, on the contrary of the first victims. He evades just in time to escape certain death.
He rolls over and raises his blaster a second time, but the angle is worse than the first time, and the shot dampens itself on the chitin with no more effect than darkening it, and enraging the worm even more. 
Again, it tries to kill Cody and the man dances out of range, blessing the hours of training the Jedi gave all of them. It had been the first thing the Jedi had done, because they thought the training the vode had received on Kamino didn’t focus enough on the art of dodging.
Cody never told them it was because the trainers and the Kaminoans thought the vode easily expandable and more useful for a suicide strike. He suspects the Jedi knew, if the way they act around the Kaminoans is proof.
Dodging, advancing, retreating, taking a shot every time he sees an overture, Cody fights, more a reflex than anything, to protect the Kel Dor. He wouldn’t refuse a little help; with spears even if they don’t have other weapons, but the cavern inhabitants are useless. They are not even running away from the worms, full of the terror of death, and the light, which have come in their city.
Nevertheless, the issue of the fight was never a real question. Even hurt and far away from his usual fighting grounds, Cody was bred a warrior and he had honed the skills given to him by his genetic donor all his life. The worm, a female, is in the habit of only fighting other female worms during the mating season for access to the best breeding ponds and to gobble Kel Dor and every animal it could. It never had to fight a sentient being, especially one with a blaster.
The blaster’ shots finally damage the roof of its mouth enough and one of them burns its path to the brain. The beast dies immediately, but the nervous system needs time to receive that message. For a moment, Cody fears the convulsions of the enormous body will cause the entire caves system to collapse on their heads.
When the movements finally stop, he vaults himself over a rock slide, caused by the events, and approaches carefully. The worm is still partially obscured by the rock he emerges from, but Cody can see a good twenty meters of it. He’s bringing back a chitin part to the GAR, because he wants ships protected like that!
A sudden movement to his left makes him turn, but too late. His zoological fascination has caused Cody to make a horrible, rookie mistake, the sort of mistake which makes a rookie never have an occasion to become something other than a rookie.
For a moment, he had forgotten there was a second worm.
He brandishes his weapon, but it’s too late. Only his reflexes save him from being cut in two, but a razor sharp incisor scraps against his armour, parting it like butter and only missing the skin by half a centimetre. The worm has no interest in the Kel Dor, no matter how easy prey they are. It just wants to kill the stubborn little creature who just killed its mother. His blaster clatters on the rock, too kriffin far away. Cody rolls on himself, tries for it, but he already knows it’s too late, when the sound of a lightsaber being ignited announces the arrival of the cavalry, just in time.
Obi-Wan Kenobi arrives on the scene like an armed deux ex machina. He’s wearing Cody’s helmet in order to breath in the cavern and death is burning light-blue in his hand. Rare are the materials which can resist the power of a lightsaber, and Obi-Wan doesn’t take chances with Cody’s life, no matter how he is repelled by the taking of a life, even an animal one. The head of the worm falls on the other side of the body as Obi-Wan is still airborne from one of those improbable jumps Force Sensitive do. The second his feet touch the rock; he’s rushing to Cody, trying to assess his health.
Across the galaxy, Anakin suddenly sits down in the marital bed, sending Padmé, who was asleep across his torso, tumbling into the sheets by the violence of his movements. The vision of a chitinous torso opening, full of meaty juice, dances before his eyes.
“Ani?” The young Senator asks, once he has succeeded in making her put down the blaster she retrieved from even the Force doesn’t know where. Padmé doesn’t do peaceful when she’s woken up abruptly, something he learned quickly in their marriage. Convincing the handmaiden that every noise inside their bedroom wasn’t a murder attempt and that they shouldn’t rush in, weapons drawn, was another interesting adjustment to the married life.
“I just.….I’m not sure…” He tries to grip what woke him up, but it already has disappeared. “I think I’m hungry,” he admits, “sorry to have interrupted your sleep.”
“The droids can make you something,” she suggests, burrowing into the nest of pillows, less prone to sudden shifting.
“Do you think we have insects?” He asks.
****************************
“Cody! Cody, are you alright?”
“Obi-Wan, General, are you hurt?” Cody and Obi-Wan ask at the same time, hands searching, patting the other bodies in gestures less destined to triage of wounds and more to the simple animal need for contact.
“The air of the cavern isn’t breathable for us,” Obi-Wan says, after a few seconds and Cody nods: “I deduced that, but the thing on my head….it’s helping.”
“How did you deduce such a- Oh, um, hello.”
Around them, the Kel Dor have begun to assemble, all of them an arm on their face, trying to protect their eyes.
“Your lightsaber, turn it off,” Cody says and, making something purr in the Commander’s chest, Obi-Wan immediately obeys, no question, no hesitation.
The Kel Dors guide them away from the scene of the carnage. Cody sees a few of them with stone machetes and axes, already working on taking apart the pale flesh of the worms, working from the wounds Cody and Obi-Wan made, as the chitin is too hard on other places of the big bodies.
Cody watches for a few seconds. One of a Kel Dor yanks open the cranial cavity. Cody turns to the other side very quickly, because butchering enormous worms is apparently more than his battle-hardened stomach can take. Nothing should make the noise an axe makes against flesh.
Cody finds his little lamp again. It’s not even extinguished, the events haven’t probably lasted more than ten minutes. The universe is a hard place, thinks Cody, where he could get eaten by any abomination with too much teeth in less time than an oil lamp runs its course.
They sit next to each other on the closest bench and in the halo of the lamp, Cody inspects his General better. He’s covered in stone dust and whatever else disgusting stuff is on his tunic: he probably crawled his way there.
The adrenaline is still burning through Cody, and joy too, as he turns to his General. On the whole, he misses the days life was simpler on Kamino, with no worms for example, but on Kamino, he never heard the sound of a lightsaber and knew, with a certainty so burning it could have well resonated in the Force, that he was saved. There is comfort, in the hard world he’s living in, in the certainty that his General will tear apart entire solar systems to rescue any clones. That all Jedi would. For a clone, raised to be interchangeable, this strong-willed refusal to leave even one of them behind is a balm to the soul.
“You found me,” he says, and he tries to infuse that with professionalism, and fails miserably.
“I will always find you,” Obi-Wan promises. It’s strange to talk to him like that, with Cody’s helmet on his head. Cody hadn’t realized he relied so much on the Jedi’s face to understand him.
“Yes, sir, but for a moment, I confess I thought you would more, avenge me or something.”
Obi-Wan touches his shoulder.
“I’m sorry to have been so long,” he says, “the system of caves proved itself tricky, and the Force insisted I couldn’t just blow up my way inside.”
“That would let the atmosphere on the outside enter,” Cody theorized, “and I think, our hosts….”
Like they have been summoned, two Kel Dor approach them. They are dressed as simply as all the others Cody has seen, but on the bust of the smaller one, there is some sort of ceremonial pectoral and it has a very big difference with everything Cody has seen since stepping into the cave. It’s in metal.
“Obi-Wan”, Cody whispers, “look at that.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t speak the language more than Cody. He can recognize it’s not the actual principal language of Kel Dor, which he has heard before, but no more than that. Nevertheless, it’s less a problem for a Jedi. He can feel in the Force other’s intentions, enough to understand easily that the people here don’t want to harm them, which Cody had deduced himself hours ago, and that they want to bring them to see something.
Cody is very happy to leave the dead bodies of the worms behind them.
And to  General Skywalker eats insects! Bless the Force that Skywalker is Rex’s Jedi.
One cave. Another. Another one.
“How many are there? How big are these caves?'' Cody asks. He’s tired, hungry, thirsty, and more or less ready to go back to camp, thank you very much.
They find a ship, or more, the skeleton of a ship, in the last part of the caves system, the deepest one. It’s less a cave, and more the memory of a crash. The ship has been cannibalized, years after years, of everything useful, to the latest scrap of metal, except for the framework.
“It was probably made with a metal too dense for the meagre set of tools they have,” Obi-Wan theorizes.
“I can’t recognize the type of  ship that is, the form itself is so strange,” Cody remarks, watching it with the eye of a man trained to recognize enemy and ally ships in a nano second in the middle of battle. Obi-Wan is touching the metal with his bare skin, with great reverence.
He always loved old things, his Jedi.
The happiest Cody had seen him was for a protection mission in a dusty archive, on a faraway world. General Skywalker was with them, and the young Ahsoka too, and the intel had been faulty. There had been no attack, Obi-Wan had had his Padawan and GrandPadawan close and safe, and spent his days making amorous noises at poetry treaties centuries old.
“It’s incredibly old. Probably before the foundation of the Republic."
"But that’s….that’s old as kriff."
"During the first time of space travel, ships weren’t as reliable. They probably are the descendants of a crew of explorers. After the crash, staying inside the caves was the only long-term possibility for them, if they hadn’t the means to produce enough respiratory apparatuses. It was the only way to survive for them.  Nevertheless, it stopped anyone from finding them. And little by little, they regressed technically and lost the way to contact the outside."
"Do you really think they would have travelled from their world without a way to breath on other planets?"
"Perhaps it was stocked in a part of the ship lost during the crash. Perhaps it was so long ago, it was long before the Kel Dor knew very few worlds have an atmosphere breathable for them…Every species has the tendency to think the world at large tailored for them.”
They don’t leave immediately. Obi-Wan is of the opinion that Cody is too tired to use the path he himself used to find him. And he’s probably right. Cody’s head is throbbing where he hurt it during his fall, but he doesn’t see how he could get better here, where he can’t eat or drink.
What follows is a game of mime between Obi-Wan and the Kel Dors which Cody won’t forget, ever, no matter how much Obi-Wan asks, and he regrets he doesn’t have a holocamera.
After a time, and an unforgettable time it was, Obi-Wan and he find themselves stashed in a little room, so low they can’t stand. It’s more a bed stuffed inside some sort of structure made in the same weird-looking, weird-smelling mushrooms. Cody takes off the bubble around his head and Obi-Wan takes off Cody’s helmet.
The red head has the worst case of helmet’s hair Cody has seen, ever and Cody can’t stop an unprofessional laugh around his first mouthful of fresh water.
“I don't Not a head made for helmets, do I?” the Jedi smiles, as he tore in two a strange looking loaf of bread.
They fall on the food, famished, and tease each other at the same time. There is water and what Cody thinks is some root vegetables, and flatbread, and some meat he isn’t touching with a ten foot pool, just in case it's giant worm.  
“If you swear to wear armour instead of linen in battle, I swear to the Force I will never mock your hair,” Cody smiles in return, and Obi-Wan makes a face, like he did already wear good, solid protection instead of tunic and leggings and whatever he calls the multiple layers of his Jedi’s clothes.
“I thought….for a moment, I thought…” Obi-Wan stops. It’s rare to see him lost for words, he of the Silver tongue, the Negotiator.
“I’m not dead,” Cody reiterates, because there is no need to beat around the bush. Even risking their lives every day the Force makes, nobody likes the kick of adrenaline when one of your men is missing. It never becomes normal. It never should.
“And yet, for a second I thought you were. When I saw the earth opening under your feet and gobbling you. And when I arrived during your battle, the Force trumpeting in my heart about the mortal danger you were running to.”
“The Kel Dor were pretty useless against those things. Couldn’t let them get eaten like that. Not when they rescued me and helped me.”
“I know. I know. And I would have done exactly the same thing.”
Obi-Wan sits on the bed, less gracefully than he usually does. From where he’s leaning against the mushroom wall, Cody stares. He can see the lines around his mouth, and after his late-night conversation with Master Quinlan Vos, he knows they aren’t from laughing. He can see the lines at the edges of the eyes, discreet for now, a little more present every day. He can see the first traces of grey on the temples, simply a trace of silver in the red mane…. He’s, almost, sure there was no grey at the beginning of the war, he has seen the holos of Obi-Wan against Prime, against Jango, all those years ago, on Kamino.
Obi-Wan is burning too bright, burning himself.
And Obi-Wan isn’t the only one not getting younger. The accelerated aging isn’t exactly good for Cody’s health, starting with his knees.
One day, he won’t be quick enough for the next giant, bioluminescent man-gobbling worm. Or Obi-Wan will be too tired against Grievous. Since they met, an assignment Commander- General decided by Alpha-17 himself, their life has been full of Separatist assassins, murderous fauna, Sith assassins, murderous geology, Separatist assassins pretending to be Sith assassins, and Sith assassins pretending to be Separatists assassins, brain-washed murderous Senators, murderous flora, murderous black holes, and one time a murderous sentient ship.
The whole galaxy is conspiring to kill clones and Jedi, for what Cody can see.
If his math is right, he survived today the sixty-third attempt on his life from Fate since he left Kamino. Obi-Wan was there for most of them, and Cody was around for the latest attempts on Obi-Wan’s life.
And one day, it will stop.
Cody opens his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. Life is short and he’s a soldier slave, he doesn’t have the luxury to wait for another time.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, and Obi-Wan looks like he has been whacked on the skull with a heavy object. It’s not exactly his best face, mouth round in surprise, and Cody only feels affection. Then Obi-Wan’s lips curve into a smile like a sun, blinding, warm, and the Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.
The Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.
He doesn’t speak. Not yet. His head against Cody, his breath sharing Cody’s own air, they close their eyes, and Cody experiences the strange idea that he’s detaching himself from his brothers.
For the first time, there is something in his hands, or well, in his heart, that he doesn’t want to share with Wolffe or Boil, or even Rex, who has become his closest brother.
He doesn’t want to hide Obi-Wan from them, but he wants….
He hasn’t the words. Not yet.
But, with Obi-Wan at his side, he hopes he will learn them.
And he hopes his brothers too can find something, or someone, so precious they need to share the joy of knowing it, but also to keep it to themselves, like he wants to keep to himself the smile of Obi-Wan when Cody tells “I love you”, or the small freckles at the side of his mouth, visible only so, so, so close.
The first “I love you” Cody hears from Obi-Wan is whispered against his lips.
The first kiss tastes of the bread offered by the Kel Dor, of the cave’s dust and it’s perfect.
They’re still in the same situation, two exhausted men, in a cave full of toxic gases, only protected from them by some unknown mushrooms exuding oxygen, and Cody feels like he could take over the entire Republic. He sleeps curved around Obi-Wan, like two parts of the same whole, touching as much as they can, and if the headache from his head wound brings Cody to the surface a few times during their nap, he feels rejuvenated after it.
After, the Kel Dor help them find the surface and Cody and Obi-Wan leave their new friends, hand in hand, quite happy to find back the sun and the sky, the fresh air of a late morning…and almost all their men crawling around their area, trying desperately to find them.
Obi-Wan keeps Cody’s hand in his and a few brothers less intimidated than others by Cody’s glare, embarrassed and proud at the same time, even bumped their big brother’s shoulders as a sign of congratulation. Obi-Wan immediately goes red, like he’s a teen on his first crush, and not a seasoned Jedi Master whose touch can bring life or death. 
Cody finds it adorable. 
*******************
It’s the middle of the night shift on the Negotiator, but Cody is still working on a different time zone, so he lets Obi-Wan sleep peacefully in their shared bunk. Their shared bunk! A notion that still makes him giddy like a shiny at their first kiss, even a month after getting together. They are taking things pretty slow, or in the wrong order, Cody isn’t sure, they sleep in the same bunk every night, but haven’t got very far in term of sex, and this perfect, because this is them, and not some sort of artificial list of relationship’s milestone. And Cody already knows, deep in his soul, that he will never love a man like he loves this one, even if Obi-Wan is killed tomorrow, and he’s sure it’s the same for Obi-Wan. 
The Negotiator is in route to join with the Steadfast, so General Koth is on board after a conjoined mission where Obi-Wan and him gave Cody new grey hairs. He finds him easily in the mess, demolishing a healthy serving. The stamps outside the rations are a different colour than the ones Cody and his brothers eat.
“Can I join you?” Cody asks.
“Of course,” Eeth Koth immediately answers and the chair on the other side of the table moves on its own, offering itself for the Commander. Cody arches a brow.
“Don’t tell Obi-Wan,” the General jokes, “or I will endure a lesson for frivolous use of the Force.”
Cody sits and they stay silent for a moment, the General apparently happy to let him come to his questions in peace, continuing to eat his meal. Despite being tailored for a different species’ nutritional needs, it looks exactly as unappetizing as most rations Cody is used too. 
“General Ke-“
“You can call him Obi-Wan in front of me,” Eeth Koth interrupts. “There is no need to be ashamed of what binds you.” He grimaces. “Force knows we will all need all the comfort we can get before everything is set and done in this war.”
“Obi-Wan and I, we had a bit of an adventure, last month.”
“From what I heard, you have a lot of them.”
“Yes but….it was…it was the first time I was around civilians. Normal people, I mean.”
“Not Jedi and not clones, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Putting apart the fact that you are normal people, and that we are too, that it is a slippery slope to consider us different, because then the rights…”
“I know you’re fighting for us in the Senate. I know. That isn’t the question…I just mean. They were civilians. Even more civilian than usual. I have only met natural borns who are Jedi and Senators and politicians or some sort of official. This was different. And I realized how little we know about the world outside the GAR. And how little we know about societies, and species who aren’t us. They raised us for war only…” Cody was almost trembling with it. Eeth Koth put a comforting hand on his wrist and Cody continued:
“Obi-Wan, I don’t want Obi-Wan to become my teacher. It’s not his role. But if we want to have a chance outside the war, us, the vode, we need to learn about the outside world. I wanted to ask you if there was something…a way…”
Eeth Koth had totally abandoned his meal and Cody could feel the weight of his gaze, the same gaze as Obi-Wan, transcending their species.
“Let me call a few people,” the Jedi said.
**********
Years later, Cody thinks a lot about that moment. Eeth Koth joined the Force during the war and Cody has to remember this moment for the two of them, this simple moment around a table, this moment which became one of the tipping point of his life. Not the too numerous almost-death, not the many battles, not even his first kiss with his dear Obi-Wan. This moment, in Cody’s mind, is the one which changed his fate. 
Eeth Koth died not even two months after that, one among a lot of Jedi who gave their life, alongside the vode, for a chance for the galaxy and its people. Not that people are particularly thankful about it: the discovery of the Sith engineering the two sides of the conflict rocked the easy confidence of the Republic in the solidity of its system.
Democracy is never forever, if people don’t work for it.
No, democracy is only saved for now, and never will it be saved forever and ever. But that shock to the system is treated by the most intelligent of the bunch like a chance to seize. All across the reunited Republic people are working hard, entering politics, creating organizations to teach the population, to hold those in power accountable…. 
It’s a sad thing so many vode, jedi and civilians had to die and suffer for that. It’s even sadder to think it didn’t almost happen. The Republic almost burned, the Sith almost won, the beloved former Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi almost helped murder Mace Windu, Master of the Order...Mace Windu isn’t exactly the type to hold a grunge, but Obi-Wan still needed months after that to stay in his presence, the guilt that should have eaten Anakin transfered. 
Honestly, if Obi-Wan forgave Anakin much too quickly, and Windu too, the vod needed a much longer time. Skywalker had almost helped the man who had engineered them as slave soldiers, the man who would have wiped out their free will, the poor part of it they still had. The vod had needed a long time to forgive, and would never forget, but Cody still has the desagreable impression Rex’s anger is a most important consequence in Skywalker’s mind that the almost death of the democratic system and the almost rise of a dictatorship. 
Sometimes, late in the night, Obi-Wan stays awake, something lost in his eyes than mediation never totally makes disappear, and Cody is sure that day figures in a good part in his dark thoughts. 
Obi-Wan, and Cody too, think about what could have been. If Cody hadn’t been there that day, in the Temple, who would have been in charge of keeping an eye on Skywalker in the Council Room? No one, that who. Because Skywalker was a Council member, if a very fresh one, and there wasn’t on hand a Jedi Master with enough years to take a look at a Council Member and decide he needed baby-sitting. All those Masters were deployed, or in beds in the halls of healing. But Cody, Cody was there, and since he and his General had become an item, he had taken sometimes to act, despite what his logical brain told him, not like a soldier Anakin could order around, but like an exasperated step-father. Exasperated and concerned, as the war advanced and Anakin seemed less and less attached to his morals. 
 Who would have followed him to the Senate when Skywalker had refused to wait anymore, and tackled him at the last minute? Who would have stopped Anakin Skywalker from doing something as tremendously stupid as to save a Sith pitted against Mace Windu?
And all of that had been possible because Jocasta Nu had taken the first excuse she could to keep Cody on Coruscant that month. A well-known linguist was visiting for a series of talks, and she thought he could be a good professor for Cody, and more importantly that well-know linguist had enough political power to obtain permission for a clone following his courses.
And the Republic had lived, because Cody loved linguistics, or more because he had loved the little he understood of it at the time.
But Cody refuses to let the horrors of those years of war, and his terrible first years on Kamino, define him. He prefers to think, again and again, to that moment with Eeth Koth.
Cody didn’t know exactly what he wanted. His accelerated childhood, raised for war and war only, hadn’t given him the words for it. He just knew that for his brothers and he to have a chance after the war, they needed more. Or even more terrible horrors would certainly befall them. Soldiers without wars aren’t useful anymore, and tools with no use are only fated to be dismantled for parts.
Following Eeth Koth’s call, Jocasta Nu and her assistants had descended on the GAR with determination, great efficiency and anger that they hadn’t thought about that themselves. By dint of foraging the Jedi Archives, and every friendly archives of the galaxy, for legal precedent to help the Vode, they had forgotten all answers weren’t found between the terabytes of a datapad.
Master Nu is seated right next to Obi-Wan in the public and trying very hard to pretend her eyes aren’t misty, as Cody receives his diploma, earning himself the title of Doctor in linguistics, for his work with the forgotten Kel Dor city, right next to the first Kel Dor of said city to have made the jump to Coruscant.
Cody isn’t the first clone to finish his thesis. Not surprising:  he left the GAR years later than some of them, refusing to leave before his lover, who had been pressed into service as long as the Senate could justify it, and even longer. With Anakin leaving the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan was certainly the most famous member of it for the public, and it was as if the Senate tried to make him pay the Jedi’s refusal to abandon the vode. But Cody was the first clone Jocasta Nu talked with, when she arrived to try to help the vode not in pleading that they shouldn’t be slave soldiers, but in demonstrating they were so much more.
Cody wasn’t the first clone to leave the GAR officially, that honour went to Rex who followed Ashoka to Orto Plutonia, the first clone to be officially accepted as a member of the Jedi Corps. For what Cody understands, his life consists of almost losing his toes ten times a month, hunting with the Taz and flirting desperately with every passing skirts, as Ahsoka flirts desperately with her own Senator and supervises Republic-Taz contacts. Obi-Wan and Cody went once during permission, and Cody swore to himself that the next time Rex and Ahsoka wanted to see them, it could be on a tropical atoll.
Cody wasn’t the first clone to find a job outside of the Jedi orbit. That honour went to Fives and Tup, who left together and chose the most pacifist world they could. “We were almost separated once, never again. I’m not touching a weapon again in my life” Fives had said to Cody that day, watching Tup, busy hugging Rex, with something ferociously possessive in his eyes. Now, they have a nursery of succulent plants on a small island, in the south hemisphere of Alderaan, and Cody still isn’t sure if they are the best friends in the world, or one of those pairs who took brothers in a quite different sense, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There is a small potted thing they sent as a gift on Cody’s desk, with red undertones and white flowers once a year, but the former Commander has a black thumb, and only Obi-Wan’s careful nursing in the Force saved the poor thing already thrice.
Cody wasn’t the first clone to enter academia, that honour went to Waxer, who now teaches mathematics on Mandalore and is busy reintroducing Fett’s genes into the population with a long string of ex-partners, who still like him very much and with who he raises an army of children, at least three of them bearing a name honouring Waxer.
Cody wasn’t the first clone to marry, that honour went to Jesse and Cody isn’t touching that choice of spouse with a ten-foot pool.
Cody wasn’t the first in a lot of things. But it’s ok. He doesn’t have to lead his brothers anymore. He doesn’t have to bear responsibilities for death and help who didn’t come, and for the horrors that were their life.
The vode are free and Cody can only be a brother like any other.
He can be only Obi-Wan’s husband, even if Obi-Wan jokes that now, it’s more him that will be only the husband of Doctor Cody Kenobi, his arm candy in gatherings.
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jincherie · 4 years
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florescence | vi
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❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 4.9k+ ❀ — rating: sfw...ish? ❀ — warnings: everything is smoothing over.... and now that angst is out of the way, oc is having to deal with some thoughts that now have the time to rise to the surface. so um. hickeys and also an almost risque dream ❀ — notes: happy birthday to me!!! i hope u enjoy this!!! every chapter we get closer and closer to the heat!!!!!!
Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.
— posted; 30.03.2020 // masterlist || prev. | next.
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It seems that for all your many efforts over the weeks in reassuring the two hybrids that they’re wanted by you and that they can settle down and make this their home, it doesn’t really sink in until after the night you let them scent you.
Which, of course, makes sense considering that was what was making them unsettled in the first place. You knew that letting them do that would return their behaviour to normal, but you weren’t expecting that in the process it would also do a complete one-eighty.
It’s like a switch has been flipped.
The first thing you notice, is that when you all head to bed and you enter your room, closing the door behind you, they seem to hover outside of it for a moment before continuing to their own room. Now, the old you would be thinking why? But! This is the new you, the new-and-improved y/n who knows how to use google when she should! And since you’ve been referring to google and the more trustworthy sites you’ve found, you know that they’re probably battling the urge to be closer to you.
What you mean by that, is that you read that more often than not hybrids prefer to be as close to their owners as possible at all times—and this can also mean that they want to sleep in the same room. It soothes an instinctual part of them, apparently. You can understand it, plus, if you’re being honest…. You’re not as opposed as you should be.
The idea of getting to cuddle with them while you sleep makes you feel warm and gooey inside, but the thing is that after the way things were hinted to be going the other night… you kind of have to chase off more than inappropriate thoughts every time you think about it. You can’t help it! They’re both handsome, sweet boys, and—
You’re gonna stop yourself there.
“I’m home!”
You call out as soon as you enter through the door, an unnecessary act considering they could probably hear you all the way down the street if they really tried. Still, it’s habit. You used to yell it even when no one was here, because it made you feel less lonely. Kind of sad, now you think about it. You hum, reaching the bench and placing your things down on top of the counter.
You’re startled into yelping when thick arms slip around your waist, heat pressing against your back and a face mushing into your neck. The lack of whining tells you it’s Taehyung that has reached you first today, eager to cuddle close until every trace of any other hybrid’s scent is gone. They’ve taken to doing this every time you get home—at first you wanted to protest, since they barely let you get five steps through the door before accosting you, but after seeing how pleased and content they look after, you couldn’t be mad at them for it even if you wanted to.
“Tae,” you hum, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair; your nails run against the back of his ear by accident and something akin to a purr thrums through his chest. He presses his lips to the junction of your neck before nipping it lightly in greeting, arms tightening around your waist fractionally. “I missed you too.”
When he pulls away and moves around to your front, you’re taken aback by how pleased he seems to be that you pinpointed what he was trying to say. His big chocolate eyes with those long, pretty lashes are looking at you so earnestly you can’t help but coo, bringing your hands up to pinch his cheeks. They instantly flush pink beneath your grip.
“So cute,” you coo, grinning as you squish his cheeks like he’s a newborn baby and you’re an aunt who is performing her obligated first cheek-pinch. “My cute baby Tae, I really did miss you so much.”
Teasing him probably isn’t the best way to deal with the sudden overstimulation of your senses at how cute he is, but his reactions are always worth it. He’s growing so bold lately that even though he doesn’t talk still, you almost forget how shy he can be. Blushing, Taehyung steps forward and drops his head, headbutting your shoulder to hide his face. A laugh tumbles from your throat before you can even register it, arms coming up to hold him close. You’re gonna die from a heart attack at his cuteness one of these days, you just know it.
“Where’s Seokjin?” you ask after a moment of holding him, trailing your fingers down his spine soothingly. His tail wags in joy each time you do it.
At your question though, he pulls back, and you’re surprised to see a look of hesitation on his face. You tilt your head, wondering as to the cause of it. “Is he okay?”
Taehyung nods instantly, not wanting you to worry, and seems to make up his mind about whatever he was considering. He slips his hand into yours, entwining your fingers, and tugs you towards the stairs. You follow, letting him lead you easily—this works well with your plans since you wanted to get changed into your pyjamas anyway. You kind of expect him to take you to his room, but your eyes widen when you see him turn and pull you in the direction of yours. You don’t have a name for the light, fluttery feeling that occurs in your stomach.
The door is slightly ajar as you approach and Taehyung goes straight in, pushing it open softly before stepping to the side and halting, a somewhat sheepish expression crossing his face. You see why a moment later.
There, on the edge of your bed closest to the wall, is Seokjin. He’s curled up around the blankets, a blue material you quickly recognise as one of your shirts clutched against his chest as he snoozes. He looks so at peace, cheek mushed against his hand and his hair tousled so endearingly; you’re making your way over before you even realise it.
As you approach and take in the other side of the bed, the comforter rumpled and another shirt laying discarded atop the covers, you surmise that Taehyung must have joined the older male in his nap at some point as well. When you shoot him a knowing look, he purses his lips and averts his eyes somewhat guiltily, making you laugh softly.
“Seokjin,” you say quietly, resting a knee on the bed so you can lean over and nudge the fox’s shoulder. His hand uncurls from his chest and you tickle his palm with your fingers. “Seokjin.”
He grunts softly, smooshing his face into the bed for a moment. Reflexively, his fingers start to curl around your own. You try calling him to wake again, “Seokj—oop!”
The sensation of falling onto the bed has your stomach temporarily being left behind your body as you’re pulled down, arm instantly slipping over your waist. Your cheeks heat, heart thudding so loudly you’re sure Taehyung can hear it; right in front of you is Seokjin’s face, so close that if you leant forward even a centimetre your lips would brush his own. The knowledge has your blood pressure skyrocketing.
A soft sound, almost like a whimper, comes from behind you, and you turn your head to glimpse at the dhole hybrid who still has a hold on your other hand—his expression is almost indecipherable, a mix of fond, jealous, and somehow amused all at the same time. There’s something else in there that melts his citrine irises into dark honey, something that makes your stomach flip instinctively before you push it forcibly from your brain.
Brushing your thumb over his hand to soothe him, you then turn back to his brother and ponder how to proceed. You need to wake him up because, to be honest, you’re hungry as hell and want to sort out dinner already. He has your hand trapped and held against his chest, hugging your arm like a teddy, and so you free your other hand from Taehyung’s grasp (ignoring his soft protest) and bring it to cup his cheek. Admiring his features for a moment, you brush your fingertip down his nose, and then pass your thumb over his cheekbone; even asleep, he nuzzles easily into your touch. Your chest is so warm.
“Seokjin,” you murmur, not wanting to alarm him by being any louder. “Seokjin, wake up please.”
He mumbles unintelligibly, bringing the hand he has in his hold up to his cheek and nuzzling against it—honest to god you think your heart is going to explode like that bird in Shrek when Fiona sings to it. What are you supposed to do with these feelings! There’s so much of them!
Unable to help yourself, you end up channelling it the exact same way you did before. You pinch Seokjin’s cheek, huffing, “Seokjinnie, wake up, I’m hungry.”
Apparently the pinch did the trick, because in the next second he’s cracking his eyes open, blinking blearily. As soon as he catches sight of you—or really, as soon as he registers that it’s you in front of him that he’s been staring at the past few seconds—he freezes, mouth popping open.
He continues staring at you for one, two, three seconds. Then he jerks back like he’s been burned, flinging somewhat haphazardly into a sitting position with a yelped, “y/n!”
You take the opportunity to sit up and climb from the bed now that he’s released your hand, smiling at him cheekily. “Missed me, did you, bub?”
His face erupts into a violent blush, but surprisingly he doesn’t shy away. “No!” he denies, before realising how incriminating his current location and choice of teddy-bear is, and later amending, “… Maybe.”
You laugh, grabbing his hands and pulling him to a stand; fluidly, in the same movement his arms slip around your waist and he curls around you, face going straight to the other side of your neck to perform his daily evening scenting. You allow him until the soft trailing of his nose along your neck tickles too much and you let out a squeak, wriggling out of his hold.
“You guys are gonna kill me one day,” you remark, shaking your head with a smile. Still sleepy, Seokjin returns your smile with a dazed one of his own, his hand coming to clutch your sleeve as you beg to depart from the room. Taehyung rushes ahead to get the door, fluffy russet tail swishing happily behind him. “I missed you both too. What did you get up to today? I mean, besides napping in my bed.”
Seokjin lets out a protest at your teasing, but it doesn’t last long before he’s happily filling you in on the details of the day, running you through its contents in detail. You listen attentively, pulling out utensils and dishes for dinner as you do so. You only pause when Seokjin halts suddenly, and you feel his tentative touch on your elbow.
When you turn to him, it’s a determined, pleading look in his amber-hued eyes that greets you. “Can I cook tonight? I want to learn so I can make dinner for you. You always come back and make it for us after being away most of the day.”
Something akin to fluster creeps under your skin and warms your cheeks—you don’t know what to do with the way his words make your heart throb. “Oh, o-of course. You remember how to make spaghetti?”
At his fervent nodding, you relinquish the items in your hold to him and step back, moving to join Taehyung on the stools at the other side of the counter. Now that he’s gotten his question out of the way, Seokjin resumes his earlier chattering, speaking enough for the three of you. You did have some slight reservations about him cooking by himself, but as you watch you realise that he really has been paying avid attention every time you teach him how to make something. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’d taken notes and studied.
“We wanted to nap on the hammock outside, but it’s not the same without you,” Seokjin pouts, squinting his eyes as he slices onions. “Also, we kind of finished that season of The Dragon Prince without you… sorry.”
“That’s okay,” you answer immediately, before letting out a surprised gasp when something brushes your back. You didn’t even know Taehyung had moved until you feel him pressing against you from behind, slipping his arms over your shoulders to hang slackly and resting his chin on your head. “You’re very cuddly today, Tae.”
“He missed you,” Seokjin supplies without pause, pausing his cutting only to give the younger hybrid a fond look. His peppery tail sways and wags contentedly behind him. “You were gone extra early this morning, and he didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“Ah,” you hum in realisation, tilting your head back to meet Taehyung’s gaze, your hand coming to touch one of the arms hanging over your shoulders. “Sorry, Tae. I’ll make sure to say goodbye in the future.”
To your utter surprise, the dhole hybrid lets out a sound oddly like a mew and a chirp blended into one. He brings his arms to hug your shoulders, face burying into your hair happily; you can feel his ears flick against your head and you focus on that instead of the way his hand had accidentally brushed against your chest when he moved his arm.
“You’re forgiven,” Seokjin informs you, amused. His words bring a smile to your face.
Seokjin is quick and concise while making your dinner, but spends a fair amount of time in the final stages making sure it tastes just right. By the time the food is served and steaming in a bowl in front of you, it’s barely been forty minutes and you’ve never been hungrier. The smell alone in the last twenty minutes has had you salivating consistently.
To Seokjin’s credit, it’s delicious and honestly better than your own cooking. You make sure to tell him so and he blushes, shoving a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth to hide his happy smile. The praise makes him glow with pride for the rest of the evening, Taehyung telling him in his own way that he enjoyed the meal too. You wonder if Seokjin would be interested in looking up other recipes, and make a note to look into finding a recipe book for him.
After eating, the three of you move somewhat lazily to the living room to watch something before you retire. Well, you say that loosely. What really happens as soon as you sit on the lounge is that your two hybrids lay on top of you and command all your attention in the form of cuddles. You’re so happy that things have resumed the way they were, better even. You feel soothed, and surprisingly a little bit giddy with anticipation for how things can only go up from here. As you turn on Netflix and catch up on the series they’d watched without you, you can’t help the way your thoughts stray to what is going to happen as soon as you call bedtime.
Honestly, you haven’t paused and let it sink in that you found Jin napping on your bed earlier. Do they do it often? It would explain a lot—namely the way your bed when you come home would sometimes be in a different way to how you left it in the morning. It also makes sense considering you’ve noticed how drawn they are to your room. It’s not like it’s explicitly out of bounds for them, but you get the sense that to them it’s a topic that they don’t know how to approach yet. You wonder if tonight you will catch them lingering on the way past your door again.
A few hours and several episodes later reveals that the answer is: yes.
You’ve just finished changing into your pyjamas, some shorts and a loose, thin singlet, when you catch familiar shadows moving from underneath your door. You smile, stretching as you make your way to the door as quietly as possible.
When you swing it open and catch two hybrids standing hesitantly outside it, you promptly scare the living daylights out of them.
“Sorry,” you say, grinning at the way Taehyung pouts grumpily at you and Seokjin places a hand over his heart. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing outside my door?”
At your question, their faces draw a blank. Apparently, they hadn’t realised that you noticed their usual lingering.
“Um,” Seokjin bites his lip, canines digging softly into the plump flesh. “No?”
You try not to laugh, for his sake. Your hybrids always blush to easily and while they look cute when they do you kind of wonder if there’s any long-term side effects of having that much blood rush to your head on the regular.
The longer the interaction goes on, the more flustered he gets. “Um. We were just going to bed. Goodnight—”
You don’t miss the way Taehyung smacks his arm, giving him a pointed look, and you decide to be the bolder person in this case. You made a promise to yourself after last time that you were going to be more attentive and proactive, and so here you are! Doesn’t mean you can’t tease them a little while you have mercy on them, though.
“Oh,” you say, letting out a sigh. “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to sleep in here tonight, but if you want to go to your own bed it’s o—”
The way their eyes light up is almost comical, Seokjin cutting you off hurriedly. “No! No, we don’t want to—I mean, we like our bed, but i-if we can, um, sleep in yours…”
You opt not to say anything, simply stepping back and opening your door to them. They dart inside like they’re scared you’re going to change your mind, diving onto your bed and worming beneath the covers in record timing—you have to laugh as you climb into the space they left you in the middle. Using your remote, you make sure the light is off and your fan is on since you have a feeling you’re going to wake up overheated.
It’s only the fairy lights framing your window that cast a soft, blue glow over the handsome curves of your hybrids’ faces now, both of their eyes trained on you as you settled down onto your back. As soon as you’re comfortable, they dive forward and plant their faces in the respective sides of your neck they’ve claimed.
“Sorry,” Seokjin murmurs after a moment, nosing against your skin and inhaling softly. “It’s… a hybrid thing. Being around your scent is really… calming.”
“Oh,” you say, flustered. “So long as I don’t stink, then. Tell me if I insult your nose.”
“I don’t think you could ever smell bad, y/n,” he confesses lowly, Taehyung humming softly in agreement. The vibrations against your skin almost make you shudder.
“I’m flattered but I can assure you that’s not true,” you laugh, breath hitching as Seokjin buries his face further into your neck, nosing along your hairline.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, wriggling closer and hugging you tight. Taehyung almost fights him for the privilege of having an arm around your waist but settles for looping it over your ribs instead. “Go to sleep, ‘m sleepy.”
You roll your eyes, wondering how you never noticed his sassy streak earlier on, but oblige his request. Its warm in their hold, and as it usually does you find yourself quickly melting into the security of it, sleep coming easily. You pass out, limbs intertwined with those of your hybrids as you all slip into your respective dreams.
x—x—x
About midway through the night you find yourself waking, eyes blinking blearily at the ceiling before you even realise you’ve been roused from sleep. For a moment, you find yourself sifting through the fog of sleep in your mind for the reason why you’ve woken, until you become aware of a sensation at your neck.
It’s wet, you realise belatedly at the feeling of cool air brushing your sensitive skin, but that’s not all. Warmth travels down your spine and your thighs twitch with the urge to move at another sensation, one that takes you another moment to identify.
Someone… is sucking on your neck?
Your brain, even still hazy with sleep, is quick to piece it together after that. It’s Taehyung, soft chitters escaping him as his chest thrums with something akin to a purr against your shoulder. He’s still asleep, you surmise, but even in sleep he’s really ravaging your neck. Each soft suckle of your skin into his mouth is paired with the scrape of his teeth, a shudder fighting to roll down your spine as something a little too synonymous with pleasure shoots through you.
Distantly, you know you should push him off of you, but your head is so fuzzy and your heart is doing a tumble routine in your chest. You go to push him away softly by placing a hand on his shoulder but only end up bunching it in the material of his shirt when he moves lower and huffs before attaching his mouth to the tender junction of your neck and shoulder. The whine that rises in your throat thankfully gets caught before it can escape, your hand sliding up from Taehyung’s shoulder to touch his cheek.
Your finger accidentally brushes his mouth, but what catches you more off-guard is that he immediately detaches his mouth from your neck and goes for your finger instead, the hand wedged between you two holding it to his face as he nibbles and licks the skin there instead, much more gently than he had your neck. You think your heart is about to give out, but now that the sensations aren’t so overwhelming, you find yourself sinking back into sleep once more. You’re so tired, after all, and it’s so warm… it doesn’t take you long at all before you’re snoozing away once more.
x—x—x
When you went back to sleep, you weren’t expecting to be thrown back into a dream—but you have a fleeting realisation, for just a moment, that that’s where you’ve ended up.
Everything is a little foggy.
“you—you won’t… you never…”
You pause—you’re waiting for him to continue. You’re in his room, and you don’t know where Taehyung is. The shower? Maybe. Seokjin is confessing something to you, something to do with his hybrid nature. It filters through your brain—you’ve messed up again, but it’s something different this time…
“Why are you upset, Jin? You scent me, Taehyung scents me. I thought that was what you needed to feel more comfortable? And at ease?” you push softly, prodding for an answer that will finally enlighten you. You’re on the bed now, reaching for his hands—were you on the bed before? You can’t remember, but it somehow makes sense that you’re there now. His hands are startlingly, lucidly warm in your own.
“Y-yes! We do! Because we care about you!” his tone has grown sharper now, voice lower and rougher. “But you—you don’t do it, and you never do it, so how are we supposed to f—”
It clicks into place in your head about midway through his rant, what has got him all bothered this time—the information comes to you like a premonition. A hum escapes you, and you shuffle closer to him on the bed, watching his gaze rest elsewhere. At least, it does until he feels your hands come to his waist where it blends into the sight flare of his hips, material bunching in your grasp.
Maybe its because a part of you can tell that this is far too fuzzy and far-fetched to be real, that this is really just a dream, but something foreign and brazen wells up in you, fills every inch of your body like a hand slipping into a glove. You’ve never had these thoughts before, but at the same time… they don’t feel unfamiliar. The urge you’re feeling isn’t one you recognise but it doesn’t feel out of place.
Even so, when you move you’re surprised by your own boldness—its like you’re only controlling a portion of your own body, and the rest of it is acting out a script you’ve never seen.
“You think I don’t care about you because I haven’t ever scented you, Jinnie?” you ask, tone soft but clear.  His ears flick towards you before flying back, his tail flicking once behind him. His cheeks are a familiar pink, but the heaviness of his golden eyes isn’t something you recognise—you struggle to discern, even in your dreamlike state of omnipotence, exactly what you’re seeing. An optimistic thought whispers across your mind; is it yearning you glimpse? “Even though I tell you every day, and every night, how much you mean to me?”
Seokjin stumbles over his words as he fumbles with his grip on you, eyes wide and stuck on your face. You don’t remember the transition, don’t think it even happened, but his back is pressed to the pillows now, and you hover above him. The soft cotton in your grasp is all too easily pushed up to allow your fingers to brush his skin—wasn’t his shirt different before? It’s not important enough to keep you occupied.
“N-no, I mean y-yes, b-but you—”
“Alright, Seokjin, I understand,” you breathe, meeting his gaze and taking in the way he shudders at your words, confusion flicking across his features. “You want me to scent you? I’ll scent you.”
The poor fox hybrid doesn’t even have a chance to orient himself after those words before you’re swinging a thigh over his hips, knees pressing into the lush bedding. He scrambles to adjust out of instinct, unintentionally helping you in the process as he tips you forward, your face landing against his neck. Immediately, he freezes, the slightest sound catching in his throat, and you know you’re on the right track. Distantly, you realise the dream would have carried you here no matter what.
You allow your arms to slip and embrace him, laying against him for a moment until you feel his racing heart calm just a tad; it’s an odd detail that sticks out to you amongst the fog of everything else. Then, you turn your head and take in a long, deep breath, and it starts thudding frantically away all over again. His hands clutch the material of your shirt tentatively, chest moving yours with it with each inhale.
Realising where your face is pressed, somewhat playfully you smile and hum against the smooth skin of his neck, feeling his whole body shudder beneath you in response. He rasps, voice thick, “y-y/n—”
He doesn’t finish whatever he begins to say, though, because in the next second you’re nuzzling your face against him, tip of your nose brushing the dip beneath his jaw before it’s replaced by your lips. He chokes mid-sentence, breath catching audibly in his throat, and you’ve never been so endeared and… other things, in your life.
Yearning, yearning, yearning—it fills you to the brim and you feel you’re about to overflow.
You don’t give him much of a chance to adjust, especially since you suddenly recall exactly how he was when you first let him scent you, barely a week ago.
At the sudden sensation of your tongue dragging along the flesh beneath his jaw, Seokjin jerks and whines.
You blink your eyes open, the harshness of the sunlight filtering in through the window making you snap them shut once more.
What. The fuck.
The details of the dream are still fresh in your mind, but you can feel them slipping away even as you ease your eyes open to check where you are. Okay, you’re in your room. What just happened, didn’t happen. What even…
As you lay and mull over the contents of your current reality, it sinks in exactly who and what happened in your dream—instantly, your face burns. You’re mortified, and only now do you suddenly recall the two hybrids that had been sharing your bed.
One of which, you just almost had a raunchy dream about.
To your surprise, though, when your gaze flicks to either side of you, the bed is empty of anyone but yourself. Instantly, relief flushes through you. They probably got up to make breakfast, and of course they have no idea about the contents of your dream. You’re just being paranoid because you’re somewhat ashamed right now.
God, you need to repent—but you’ll do that later. In the meantime, you’re just thankful that your two hybrid housemates are none the wiser to the mess that is currently going on in your brain.
Little do you know, that the reason they’d fled your bed early was because of the telling, sweet scent that begin to sink into their senses partway through your dream, and the instincts that had begun to rise within them in response to it.
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a/n: happy birthday to me!! please let me know what u think and whether u enjoyed by leaving a like n reblog!!!! <3 <3
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biceraswitch · 3 years
Text
Lock and Key - Part 2
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Summary: Bucky was a brat all day whilst you were at work. Now you are home and ready to give him the punishment he deserves.
Pairings: sub!Bucky x dom!reader
Warnings: 18+, smut, language, dom!reader, sub!Bucky, use of mommy, spanking, crying, fluff
Words: 2.5k
Part 1
-----
Arriving home you dropped your bag by the door and stalked down the hallway. You knew where you would find Bucky and turning into your bedroom you saw you were right. 
“How many times?”
Bucky’s head shot up from where he lay flat on the bed. He was still feeling the afterglow of his last orgasm and hadn’t heard you come home. He stared at you, mouth open at you stood at the end of the bed. His eyes flicked down to look at himself, his lower stomach covered in drops of cum, the dildo discarded on the bed between his spread legs and he let out a soft groan.
“Come on baby boy, I asked you a question. How many times?” You snapped your fingers to bring his attention back to you. 
“S..s..Seven times” He stuttered out as you just raised your eyebrows at him. “....I’m sorry mommy, I just really really missed you” he pouted and gave you puppy dog eyes. 
“You’re not sorry at all, you’ve been a little brat all day and you know it.” You started stripping off your jacket and unbuttoning your blouse. “Were you wanting mommy to come home and take care of you? Wanted me to spank that cute little ass of yours and make you cry hmm?” 
Bucky let out a whimper, nodding his head. His cock twitched and started to harden. “Please mommy…”
“Look at that, my greedy baby wants more already” You sat on the end of the bed. “Get to it then” you snipped pointing at the dildo on the bed. 
Bucky sat up and started reaching for you “No mommy, please, I want you” 
“Aww, you’re such a dumb little baby” you teased, grabbing his chin, “you think you get a say in this? After the way you’ve acted all day?” You let go of his chin and slapped him softly.  “You better do what mommy says, and fuck that little hole of yours till you come again” 
He laid back down, legs bent and spread. His metal arm grabbed the dildo and he paused, glancing at you with pleading eyes. Sensing that you weren’t going to give in that easily he pushed the toy against his tight ring of muscle. A low groan rumbled in his chest as it slipped in easily and he started slowly thrusting it in and out. You watched him for a few moments before rising from the bed and turning towards the wardrobe. “Keep going baby boy, I’m just gonna grab a few things” you ordered. 
-----
Opening the toy chest in your wardrobe you started grabbing rope and other items you wanted for Bucky’s punishment. Feeling satisfied with your selection you moved back to the bed and started laying them out. Bucky turned his head to watch as you laid out the rope, paddle, cane, buttplug, and finally a small black bag. “What’s in the bag mommy?” Bucky asked breathily. His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and he was letting out little whimpers. 
“Hmmm, you’ll find out later baby. Now come on, you can do better than that, I told you to make yourself come” you picked up the cane and gave him a warning tap on his leg. “But mommy, I’m tired” he whined.
“Too bad baby, don’t start something you can’t finish” 
He picked up the pace with his thrusts, his hole greedily swallowing the toy. His cock was leaking drops of precum, the head glowing a deep red. Teeth gritted, he gave a last few hard pumps and his cock started twitching out small spurts of cum. His head flopped back against the bed, chest heaving as he sucked in ragged breaths. 
“Well done baby boy, looks like you're almost all spent there. Poor little cock didn’t have much left to give” you teased, swiping your fingers though the small amount of cum coating his stomach and bringing it to his lips. Bucky sucked gently on your fingers and nodded. You removed your fingers from his mouth with a gentle pop. 
Moving to the bathroom you grabbed a washcloth before returning to the room and cleaning up Bucky and his quickly softening cock. He hummed gently as you cleaned all traces of cum and sweat from his body. 
“Looks like you finally wore yourself out” you observed, wrapping a hand around his flaccid cock giving a few experimental strokes.  Bucky whined in response “Please… I don’t think I can come again”
“Don’t worry my baby boy, you won’t be coming again for a while” you smirked. 
“What?” his head shot up to look at you.
“You heard me, I think after the way you acted today you need to learn a little restraint”
You reached over the bed and grabbed the black bag you placed there earlier, Bucky's eyes following your every movement. A soft gasp escaped as his eyes widened at the sight of what you drew out. 
“Do you know what this is baby boy?” you asked, holding up the item.
He could only nod in response to your question, his eyes still focused on the shiny black cock cage dangling from your fingers. 
“So you know exactly what this means then. Your cock is going to be all mine. I get to decide how you can use it, when you get to feel anything around it, when, or if, you get to come…”
As you talked Bucky’s breathing sped up, his face flushing with the thought of you being in complete control of his pleasure. You had talked about the idea of this before but he had no idea you had actually purchased a cage. 
“Now let’s get this on, and then we can finish up the rest of your punishment”
You reached out and wrapped a hand gently around his balls, slipping each one through the ring portion of the cage. Bucky lay still and watched you closely, chewing on his swollen bottom lip. Once you had the ring settled behind his balls you grabbed the cage and easily slipped it over his still soft cock before clicking the two sections together. “Oh! One last thing” you remembered as you pulled out a small plastic padlock from the bag. “This here is a little padlock to make sure that you don’t get any ideas while I’m out. Of course you could break it easily” You explained to Bucky, It was important that he could remove the cage if he ever really needed to. “But it has a special code on it, so you can’t just break this one to have some fun and try to trick me by just adding another.” 
You stood back and admired Bucky. He looked so perfectly submissive laying exposed in front of you, his cock partially hidden away behind the black plastic. He was staring down at it, chewing his lip. He had expected a punishment for the way he behaved but didn’t think it would end up like this. He was hoping for a nice hard spanking, something that would mean he couldn’t sit comfortably for the next few days. Then being made to eat you out until you were satisfied and his face and torso were drenched. But, he hadn’t ever been this bad before and now he was facing the consequences. 
“Get up and bend over the bed” you commanded. After a moment of hesitation Bucky complied. He moved gingerly, very aware of the new sensation between his legs. He bent over, laying his torso flat on the bed, ass sticking up high. “Arms behind your back” Bucky grabbed each elbow in the opposite hand. You took the length of rope and wrapped it snuggly around his arms. Walking around the bed you grabbed the buttplug.
“Do I even need to bother lubing this up?” you wondered out loud “that hole of yours looks like it is still dripping and you have warmed it up all day for me” You pressed the tip of the plug against his hole and started to push it in and out a tiny amount. Bucky groaned and pushed back a little “please mommy” he moaned out
“Please what baby? What are you wanting?” you continued to tease the plug, pulsing it slowly.
“Pl….please... I wanna be all full” 
At that you applied steady pressure to the plug, watching as his hole opened to accept the invasion with ease, only stopping when the flared base sat flush between his cheeks. Bucky grunted as you pushed it in. You gave the base a few taps and trailed a finger down over his balls. Bucky then gasped before starting to let out some high pitched whimpers, wiggling his hips back and forth. Looking down you noticed the source of his discomfort. His cock was started to harden again. Or at least it was trying to, but the confines of the cage would only let him grow a little before the pressure would become uncomfortable. 
“Hmmm getting hard there baby? Things are gonna get a bit more uncomfortable then I think” you observed as you picked up the paddle. “Now how many do you think are fair huh?” 
“Uh..uh um...I..”  Bucky stuttered, not able to answer a full sentence
“Oh my dumb little baby can’t even think right now. That’s ok, how about we just start then and we can stop when I think you have had enough?”
“Uh...no..mommy..please”
“It’s ok, I know it’s hard for your little brain right now so you can just lay ther and take what mommy gives you” 
You stood back and bought the paddle down sharply against his left cheek. He let out a tiny gasp and jerked forward a little. Starting up a steady pace, you alternated strikes between left and right. You weren’t putting much force behind them yet, just warming up the skin so it glowed a light pink. Bucky knew that his punishment had barely started and his cock was already throbbing and straining against the cage. He tried to focus on his breathing, trying to will his cock to soften to get some relief but as you started putting more force into your spanks, he felt like his whole body was on fire with need. Tears started to collect in the corners of his eyes.
You paused and rubbed a hand over his skin that was now turning a brighter shade of red. “You're doing so well, taking your punishment like such a good boy” you praised. 
“Thank you mommy” Bucky choked out as a couple of tears escaped. You put down the paddle and picked up the cane. 
“You wanted mommy's attention didn’t you? That’s why my baby acted up today” you asked as you brought the first strike of the cane down over both cheeks. Over the already sensitive skin, it stung like crazy and Bucky let out a sob, more tears tracking down over his flushed face. 
“You said you wanted me to come home and spank you and make you cry.” ‘crack’, ‘crack’, ‘crack’,  three more strikes rained down in quick succession. 
“Well you have all of my attention now baby. Is this what you wanted?” 
“Answer. Me. Is. It.?” you punctuated each word with the cane.  
Bucky turned his face to look back at you. The bed below him was soaked with tears and his lips were swollen from where he had been biting them. Raised red lines crisscrossed his ass and thighs. He looked absolutely wrecked and devastatingly gorgeous. 
“Yes mommy, wanted you, come home, spank me, ‘m sorry mommy, missed you” he choked out between sobs. You reached over and wiped away the fresh tears from his cheek, softly caressing his face. 
“I know baby, but you know that you can just ask mommy for what you want, you don’t need to act like a brat. Now just two more and then we can get you all cleaned up ok?”
Standing back up, you paused, watching Bucky squirm in anticipation. ‘crack’ you bought the cane down harshly and Bucky jerked forward with the force. “Last one” you warned as you repeated the action. 
Dropping the cane you started rubbing gentle circles over his skin, soothing the sensitive skin now featuring two very prominent welts on top of the previous lines. “It’s all over now baby–you did so well–my good boy–taking your punishment like that–mommy loves you so much” you spoke softly as you eased the plug from his abused hole, untied him and caressed his skin. As you talked his breathing calmed and his tears dried up. You placed tiny kisses over his forehead and he smiled, leaning into your touch. “Thank you mommy” he mumbled softly. 
“It’s ok baby. Now come on, let’s go get in the shower and get you nice and clean, then we can cuddle up in bed and watch a movie, how does that sound?” you helped him to stand up on slightly wobbly feet and began to lead the way into the bathroom. 
“Wait! you forgot about my cage” Bucky was standing still at the end of the bed, pulling lightly on the plastic trapping his still semi-hard member, wincing slightly as it didn’t budge. 
You turned and gave him a smirk “Aww my sweet boy. I didn’t forget at all. Remember what I said before? I think you need to learn a bit of restraint. How many times did you come today?” 
He was silent, eyes staring at the floor as he mumbled “E-eight times mommy” 
“That’s right, so I think it is only fair that you wear this for the next eight days then.”
At that his head shot up and he stared at you with wide eyes. The thought of you being in complete control of him made his heart race. He nodded his head and a small whimper escaped his lips.
“Oh you like the idea of that baby? Like the idea of mommy being in control of your cute cock?” he nodded again, cheeks flushing pink. You gestured for him to follow you to the bathroom and watched as he took a few awkward steps, clearly getting used to the new feeling of walking with the cage. You let out a small giggle “Good boy”.
-----
Bucky hummed contentedly as you ran your fingers through his hair. He snuggled in closer to you, enjoying the warmth of your body and the soft blankets wrapped around him. 
“That’s my sweet boy. You feeling ok after today? Not too uncomfortable?” 
“No ‘m feeling great. It just feels a bit different having something round my junk all the time” he admitted with a small chuckle. You giggled and turned his head towards you, kissing him deeply. He kissed back, tongue dancing from between his lips before he pulled away with a grunt. 
“What’s wr–”
“Fuckin–ugh–that’s a bit more uncomfortable” he grumbled as you realized what was wrong. 
“Did my baby boy get a bit excited?” you teased, pulling the blankets up to look down at his swelling cock straining against the cage.
“It’s all your fault, you kissed me!” he complained.
You raised an eyebrow at him “Uh uh baby, you know exactly what you did to end up in this situation”
-----
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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years
Text
Voiceless Love Chapter 9: Reunited
Loki’s Route
Loki x reader
Word count: 2154
Warnings: fluff, smut (keep it wrapped, boys and girls), more fluff, 
Tag List: @the-mean-pansexual @daddysfavoritesexkitten @zizzlekwum @caffeineoverloadandstudying @lokiyoulittle @magicalpieex @buckylokisimp
A/N: Hey everyone, I’m really sorry for how late this post is, but my family all got covid and I've been having a hard time with my depression so it took a lot out of me to write this especially since it’s a happy fluff piece and I feel like crap. The next chapter will be better, I promise.
Loki steps into the hallway, looking around and seeing no one. For the god of lies and mischief, he can’t tell if someone is playing a trick on him. He checks every corner of the castle and no one is chasing him down. Quickly, Loki rushes to his old room and changes into his everyday clothes. He looks at himself in the mirror, seeing how disheveled he looks in his clothes. Using his magic, Loki cleans himself up to look more presentable.
Nothing new has happened in the last four months. The castle looks the same, the same attendants are walking around. No one is batting an eye at him walking freely in the hallways. It’s as if Loki never left or was never imprisoned. Nothing distracts him, though. There is only one thing on his mind.
He walks straight to the Bifrost without stopping. Heimdall gives him a shocked look, but shakes it off when Loki asks to go to Earth. There’s no surprise to his request. Heimdall opens the bifrost and he is sure enough on Earth. Loki stands at the end of the hangar, looking into the glass windows on the tower. There’s no sight of you, but Steve and Nat are perched on the couch. 
Steve looks over during mid sentence as sees Loki. He’s not sure at first if he’s real or some weird trick being played, but as soon as he sees Loki bow his head, there’s no doubt. Nat quickly turns around once realizing Steve is no longer paying attention to her words. She sees Loki too and stands up, heading straight for your door. She opens it to see you and Bucky reading together, his arm around your waist, and knows this news is going to kill him.
“Y/N,” she gently speaks.
You look up from your book at Nat whose eyes are hard to decipher. There’s a little fear, yet excitement. Hope. Sorrow. You’re not sure what to make out of it and neither does Bucky. He doesn’t know if he should be worried or not. Nat wouldn’t even look at him.
“There’s someone here you need to see.”
You and the soldier get up immediately and follow Nat to the living space. Steve is standing as well as Tony, Thor, Clint, and Sam who are walking in. Looking around, everyone is staring at you with big smiles. You’re not sure what is going on until something shiny catches your eye off in the distance. 
Loki gives you a large warm smile as you see him. He watches your face light up, grabbing onto Bucky’s sleeve and pulling. You sprint down the bridge and jump into Loki who has his arms open wide. He chuckles as he falls backwards, swinging you around from the waist. You laugh so hard as he sets you down and holds your head in his hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you two stand there for a couple of minutes just staring at one another with big grins on your face until Loki moves in close to kiss you. 
Like a man finding water after crawling through the desert, you feel rejuvenated. His lips on yours was a feeling you were too deprived of. His sweetness. The softness. The tenderness. The way he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his body. It all feels perfect and right and whole again.
The team all staring at you two holding each other and smiling. Thor has never seen his brother so happy before, looking at you like nothing else matters. Loki’s eyes light up when they see you and there’s nothing in his brain but you. He has seen Loki with the other asgardian girls when he was coming of age, noticing them more and vice versa. He would entertain their flirting and often flirt back, but he was never interested. As soon as the girls would move on, he’d be back to his normal self: reading with a pissed off expression on his face.
But when he looks at you, nothing else matters. Holding you in his arms is the thing he’s been longing for. Loki kisses you again, holding your jaw and lifting you to him.
“Oh, how I have missed this,” he coos.
“I missed you more.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” he laughs.
He holds you tight again before taking your hand in his. He walks down the hangar to the door where everyone is smiling. There’s no doubt Bucky is dying inside, watching you with Loki once again, leaving him. Yet, there is a large smile across his face without any pain being hidden inside. He can’t lie to himself that as much it hurts to see you with Loki again, you were happy with him, truly happy. There was a point he knew that no matter how hard he tried, your heart would always be with Loki.
“How are you?” Steve whispers.
“Fine,” he states.
“Is this going to be rough? Having Loki back?”
“It will, but I know they belong together. I’ll accept it someday.”
Steve nods looking at Bucky. There is no pain behind his eyes, no sorrow behind his smile. He looks back at you and Loki who are hanging on each other’s arms like a lost puppy and a kind human.
“I do need to borrow Y/N for a moment, so please excuse us as we catch up,” Loki pardons.
He pulls your hand in the direction of his room and everyone rolls their eyes, fully well knowing what’s going to happen. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Loki pins you against the door and starts attacking your mouth with his. You giggle at how he grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, as if you can’t be any closer. He places his hands on your ass and hoists you up, wrapping your legs around him. 
You hear him turn around before he breaks the kiss and throws you on the bed. You giggle as you bounce a little, laying in the untouched bed. Loki smiles above you as he snaps his fingers and makes both of your clothes disappear. You cover yourself, shocked by the sudden nudity. He climbs over you, taking in the sight of your body as he does, and kisses you again, but this time it’s slow and passionate.
“Oh, how I’ve waited for this.”
He captures your lips again.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
Loki leans down and leaves pecks on your neck, going downwards to between your breasts. You let out an airy moan as he lightly bites on your supple skin. Then, you feel a deeper clench as he sucks above your nipple, leaving a deep purple hickey. He looks down at his work and smiles proudly.
“I’ve waited so long to make you mine, little one. Now, I’m never letting you go.”
“I’ll never leave.”
He groans at your words before kissing you again and humping into you. Loki takes your hand in his and places it on his hard erection. You keep kissing as you slowly move your hand up and down his shaft. He lets go a moan in your mouth, making you buckle your hips up from the arousal and vibrations. Loki leans back and chuckles at your plea, taking his cock and lining it up between your folds.
“You ready, darling?”
You nod your head enthusiastically. Loki slowly enters you, letting you adjust to his size and he sinks in. You’ve had your share of boyfriends and a one night stand here and there, but nothing compares to his size. He is a god after all. There’s a slight pain as he enters, stretching you around his length. He stops every so often and lets you adjust before going balls deep. You reach out and holds his bicep to keep you centered. Breathing heavily, you give him the go to start moving. There’s nothing rough about Loki. He doesn’t pull out and slam back into you, but he moves at a slow agonizing pace.
“I want to make love to you, little one. I want to cherish this.”
He leans down and wraps his arms around you, slowly thrusting in. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans in for a passionate kiss. It’s slow and sweet. He nips on your lower lip a little, making you giggle. He smiles at the sound of you, enjoying him and his body. He’s quite proud of himself and the way he can make you come undone around him.
After a little bit, you feel the orgasm making its way through you. It’s breathtaking as you cum all over his cock. You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud in heaven. As you lean into him, Loki attaches himself to one of your nipples, slightly biting and sucking on it. The sensation of his tongue against you adds to the orgasm, making it sweeter and more intimate.
Loki staggers in his speed and goes a little faster. You can tell he’s close at the way he staggers and is inconsistent. He lets out a loud deep groan as he cums inside of you. His fingers dig into your skin deeper, leaving marks on your lower back. He falls on top of you panting and holding you closer. You take in a deep breath and wrap your arms around him before he leans up and looks at you.
His hair is plastered to his face from his sweat. He smiles down with the sweetest grin you have ever seen. Pushing a piece of your hair to the side, he leans down and kisses you deeply, not letting go of his hold on you.
“I have waited so long for that.”
“So have I.”
-
You wake up the next morning with an ache and sticky feeling between your thighs. A second  passes as you wonder what happened, but you feel something rustle behind you. Loki grabs onto you, pulling you closer to him, and nuzzling his nose in your neck. His body next to yours reminds you it wasn’t a dream. He is actually there with you. You lean in closer to his touch.
“Goodmorning,” you whisper.
You can’t make out what he says, but Loki mumbles into your neck, making you giggle. Your turn around to face him and he gives you an unhappy look.
“What’s that face for?” you laugh.
“You keep moving.”
“Sorry, I wanted to see you. It’s been too long so I’m taking advantage.”
He gives you a weak smile, “Oh darling, you don’t have to explain. After all, you weren’t the one in prison.”
“I felt like I was.”
Loki tucks a strand of your haid behind your ear as he gazes into your eyes.
“You really are beautiful.”
There’s a moment where you two stare into each other's eyes lovingly. He holds your jaw in his hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You’ve never thought about it before, but you just now notice how blue his eyes are. They’re piercing like the sky on a warm summer’s day. Loki smiles at the way you lose yourself in thought.
“What is going through your little head?”
“Your eyes.”
He chuckles before adjusting himself so he is closer to you, “Is that all?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, little one, have I ever told you about my species?”
“Like… being asgardian?”
“No, I was adopted, actually. I am originally from Jotunheim, or Utgard. I don’t remember it, being that I was a baby when it was destroyed, but I heard it was beautiful. Well, Jotunheim was home to the giant gods, which is what I am. My father enchanted me, if you will, to look like other Asgardians so no one would know I was adopted. He and Frigga passed me as one of their own for a long time, until I found out. Well, my eyes are not the blue-est part of me. My skin is actually the most blue part of me.”
“Can you show me?” Loki looks around for a moment to make sure no one is peeking at them through the door. He closes his eyes and focuses really hard. All of a sudden, his skin starts turning into an icy pale blue, brighter than anything you’ve seen. When he opens his eyes, they no longer look as striking as they did.
You run your fingers along his skin which is significantly colder than it was moments ago, shocking you a little. Loki’s eyes wander your face for any sign of fear or hesitance, but all he sees is loving wonder. How could anyone love him when he looks like a freak? A monster? Different from everyone else and the girl who is scared to speak to people loves him. 
“Normally people run out… screaming, but you-”
“I thought I’ve proved myself different,” you say.
“You have. You’ve proved yourself very different… and I love that.”
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remmushound · 3 years
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Curse of the Clan part 59! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid
There Michelangelo stood before Krang, the giant blob of a being rearing up with help of the wires that supported his gelatinous flesh as it spilled over in thick folds. Michelangelo stepped as far away from the alien as he could, ruby eyes locked on the yokai and trying his best not to let fear shine in them. But Krang knew better; he knew Michelangelo was afraid. He could taste it. Immediately he started to poke and prod into Michelangelo’s mind, just as he had with Donatello during their lovely stay in the forest.
Michelangelo whined and clutched at his head when a sensation not unlike a needle pierced through it. His legs lost sensation, and his thoughts were scattered like leaves on the wind. His heartbeat was like the drums of war pounding inside of him but that wasn’t the only thing that drowned his senses because there was something else, something evil, something poking around in his head that shouldn’t have been! The feeling was anything but pleasant, but no matter how much Michelangelo squeezed his head to try and force it out, it wouldn’t go away.
The voice was inside the cavern of his skull, vibrating along his brain and making his entire body shake and his vision go dark.
“You’re more resistant than the purple one…” The voice inside Michelangelo’s head said, and there came a cold tingle up Michelangelo’s arm that settled around his throat like a noose. “I wonder if you’ll last as long as he did…”
“You… hurt… my… brother…” The words were hard to force out, as heavy on his tongue as a ten pound weight, but he refused to let them stay.
“And it was fun.” The voice was in his left ear, and then his right. “And it was easy. Because he was soft…”
“You take that BACK!” With Michelangelo’s defiant roar and a swipe of his flaming kusari, the cold force prodding him was knocked back.
Krang was slammed back into his body with a furious snarl, a scowl creeping over his features as he rubbed his head with a fore-tentacle. Michelangelo’s aura was strong, a truthful passion powerful enough to form a force field around the box turtle. Krang laughed.
“Donnie is just as strong as I am!” Michelangelo growled, his eyes glowing gems.
The darkness closed in again, and this time Krang was braced for the power that the orange turtle radiated, and he was able to penetrate it. His grip on Michelangelo’s psyche tightened, and bit by bit he pulled out everything he needed and weaved it to fit his own desire.
Michelangelo and Leonardo were back in that supermarket, running from the Gumbus as it chased them down the aisles. They were seperated from April and they were alone, well alone together at least, and they needed to hide. They spotted a place, and they both dived for it, but… Michelangelo didn't make it.
No, that wasn’t right. Leonardo had grabbed him and pulled him into shelter! Michelangelo was sure he had! Why was he thinking of this anyway? It wasn’t unlike him to blank out, drawn into the spiraling colors of his own mind, but this time it seemed far more misplaced than usual, and the memory was wrong! Why was it wrong? No no no, Leonardo had helped him, not left him to the beast—
Michelangelo fell to his knees as another nightmare forced its way to the front of his mind. Him and Donatello, together behind the bushes watching Todd’s RV before they knew the friendly capybara. Whispering to each other. Todd sneaking up behind them and scaring them near out of their shells, and what Michelangelo should have remembered was both him and Donatello scattering, but what came forth through like a crudely patched pair of jeans was Donatello shoving his little brother to the ground and leaving him there for the apparent ‘Spine Breaking Bandit’ to seize.
“Your mind is strong…” Krang’s voice came with a rush of nausea, “I wonder: Is your body the same?”
Michelangelo throwing a boat, using all the power he could summon. His brothers should have praised him, but instead came their vicious scolds and hurtful words and the insults made Michelangelo drop the boat and—
“Is your love for your brothers…?”
Michelangelo wanted to go on his first solo mission. Instead of supporting him, all three of his brothers surrounded him like cruel silhouettes, laughing and pointing and mocking the bravery that tried to shine. Their words and faces twisted with hatred spiraled in Michelangelo’s mind and let nothing else through.
“...too little…”
“...too weak…”
“...too dumb…”
“...all heart…”
“...no brain…”
“You need to grow up.” The voices of all three brothers melted into one. Michelangelo was crying. His brothers wouldn’t say that, his brothers wouldn’t be mean, his brothers loved him
“Or your father?” Krang taunted further. “Would you still love him…?”
Now this was a memory Michelangelo couldn’t recall. It was a place he knew, Draxum’s lab, but it wasn’t the way it was when he had briefly saw it years ago. It was different, older yet newer at the same time. Shiny and alive and now dancing with fire that swallowed everything in his path. He was helpless, the smoke choking and burning his senses. And he saw someone there, his father Lou Jitsu, grabbing items from Draxum’s shelves and tossing them into the flames to ensure their destruction. Michelangelo started to cry; he was a baby, what else could he have done? He reached out for the man and for a moment Lou Jitsu had looked his way, the eyes soft and kind as Michelangelo knew them to be. Then came the veil of hatred pulled over as the flames swallowed Lou Jitsu and he disappeared, leaving Draxum’s experiments to burn up. All of Draxum’s experiments.
“No…” Michelangelo said; he was on his knees now and dreadfully cold. “No… that… that didn't happen!”
“Didn't it…?”
Did it…? All of Michelangelo’s memories were so twisted, so mixed up, that he couldn’t tell what was true and what was a lie and what had happened and what hadn’t happened. He knew his brothers wouldn’t do that but they did do that, he saw them, they were in his head! In his head… it was all in his head, it was all a game, all a lie, everything. Did his brothers really hate him? Did his father despise him? Did Draxum and April and CJ and everyone else think so lowly of him?! Did they...
Michelangelo was cold. He recognized it now. The stinging bite pierced through his skin, and that was something he knew was a lie. Though the sensations pricked and burned at his mind and body, he wasn’t shivering. He hadn’t been cold in Japan and he certainly wouldn’t be cold here. That was a lie. He remembered Knight’s words, that Krang could only tell lies. Maybe the truth could hurt him?
“You’re lying…” Michelangelo said lowly, and the truth cut worse than a knife through Krang.
“What…?” Krang’s face distorted in recoil.
“Your name isn’t Krang, it’s… Knave. And my brothers don’t hate me either…” Michelangelo stood a little straighter, bringing his burning eyes to meet Knave’s. “Or my friends. They’re taking down your ship right now…”
Michelangelo’s voice carried a storm, an auditory thunder like a lion’s roar! But both quickly realized that it wasn’t just Micelangelo’s voice that had done it as an aftershock hit the mech hard and caught both alien and mutant off guard.
~~~
It was harder to reach Raphael than Leonardo had been anticipating. He entered the mind meld state just as easily as he had in the forest to find Donatello, but finding someone was so much different than actually reaching them. Leonardo could send out as many thoughts as he wanted, but which ones could reach Raphael wasn’t something he could control, especially at such a distance. It was only getting farther and farther away as Raphael raced off to find his friend. The way Cassandra had been tossed, the sound made when Krang’s claws met her flesh. The blood, the scream. He didn't even think a mutant could survive that, let along a human, but he still had to find just in case she was—
Raph!
Raphael stopped, his feet skidding across the asphalt as he looked around. The city was evacuated hours ago, and even if it hadn’t been, he couldn’t think of anyone who would be this far away from the fight that would know him. Was his mind tricking him, or was that strange, turtle-shaped flicker of blue light staring at him?
Raph! The voice said again.
Leonardo! That was Leonardo’s voice! Raphael raced to the blue light he saw and stopped short, the projection transparent and glistening but most assuredly a visage of his brother.
“Wha— Leo? How are you doing that?!”
“There’s no time to explain, I don’t know how long I can hold this!” Leonardo’s image was flickering like a camera glitch, blipping in and out of existence at random, “You need to get to the back of the mech! We think we found a way to shut it down but we need you to—“
Leonardo’s voice and transparent body disappeared. Astral projection. So that was Leonardo’s new power!
“What? Need me to what?” Raphael searched the empty road for anything to complete Leonardo’s urgent request, but there was nothing. If he was going to Raphael for help, then that meant it could only be one thing. “Smash? You need me to smash you out!”
Raphael didn't have his smash jitsu anymore, but he could still try! Maybe being so close to Leonardo would help his little brother to be able to reach him again! Not a thought against his plan came to Raphael’s mind, and he was already on the way back to his brothers’ aid when he remembered why he had been all the way out here to begin with. Cassandra! She was still out there somewhere and he had to find her! He started to go back to his search, then winced and hesitated when he again remembered the desperation in Leonardo’s voice.
He had to choose between his brothers and his best friend and he had minutes, if that, to make the choice. Cassandra or his family, Cassandra or his brothers, his friends his families his—
Was that a truck?! It was! A semi-truck was barreling down toward him blaring a horn louder than any alarm Raphael had ever heard in the lair. Fear and shock froze him to the spot like a deer in headlights as the truck kept coming, and in the driver's seat was a young girl who couldn’t be more older her early twenties, hair pulled back by a bandana and an expression that told of pure, mischievous glee.
“Cass?!” Raphael gawked, and then screamed and raised his hands to cover his face when he realized the impact was imminent. Cassandra had the brakes on just in time, the back of the semi-truck practically lifting up off the road as the tip of its hood just barely brushed against Raphael’s plastron.
Cassandra leaned out of the window, “Get in, big guy! Haven’t got all day!”
“CJ!” Raphael scrambled to climb into the passenger seat, immediately grabbing Cassandra from the drivers seat and turning her around looking for the injuries that he knew he had seen! Cassandra’s clothes were in ruin, the cloth stained crimson, but no matter how Raphael searched he couldn’t find a single injury! “How…?”
“Don’t question a good thing Raphie!” Cassandra said, pushing against Raphael’s plastron to get him to let her go. “Buckle up. We’re going for a ride.”
Raphael strapped himself in. “I didn't know you had a truck driving license!”
“I DON’T!”
With that, Cassabdra sped away down the road.
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thanksjro · 3 years
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More Than Meets the Eye #29 - The One Where Everyone Gets Super Shiny
Our issue opens up with Swerve laying down the Story So Far in the Exposition Dimension.
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Fantastic, you funky little man.
If Swerve looks like he’s been tossed through the car wash a few dozen times, it’s because this is where our new colorist comes in! Everyone, please say hello to Joana Lafuente- known for her love of gradients and attention to light sources, this actually isn’t the first time we’ve run into her. Lafuente worked on colors for several issues of The Transformers (2009), Last Stand of the Wreckers #3, and a few issues of MTMTE Season 1. However, she was matching the styles of her co-colorists on a majority of these, so we haven’t seen her style properly until now.
Getting into the story proper, Cyclonus is busying himself with staring out the window at a PNG of space, as he is wont to do, when he hears the tell-tale sound of tires squealing down the hall towards his room. Oh, goodness, whoever could that be?
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Nearly forgot about him, didn’t you? Yeah, it’s a little difficult to follow up on things like a character’s recovery from a horrific disease when you’ve got comic event contract obligations to deal with.
After getting tackled by Tailgate, who reminds us all about the time he stuck his dirty little fingers into a dude’s brain meat, Cyclonus takes the little nerd on a walk through the ship.
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You’re not going to convince me to reread “Dark Cybertron”. I don’t care how much of a marshmallow you are, it’s not happening.
They’re passed by Megatron and a bunch of crew members carrying that coffin we saw at the end of last issue down the corridor, Tailgate has a moment, and we get a taste of Cyclonus’ distaste for the Autobots as a whole. Tailgate is mildly offended by this, as he gropes his chest in distain, showing off his shiny new Autobot badge- a gift for not dying a terrible, gruesome death.
Good job, Tailgate. Proud of you.
They’re also passed by an absolutely blitzed Jackpot and Mainframe, the former singing Tailgate’s Tyrest-stopping praises as the latter carts him over to the Medibay to deal with the almost alcohol poisoning he’s got going on. Cyclonus remarks that Tailgate was missed, though Tailgate can’t help but wonder if that’s really true.
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Y’all like slowburn romance, right? Because these two dumbasses have been roommates for two years, and we’ve just gotten to the point where physical contact can happen without one of them needing to be dying.
Anyway, it’s been a good day for Tailgate so far. Let’s hope it stays that way for the little dude.
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...And that’s a series wrap on Tailgate! Let’s give him a hand, folks!
Hopping back in time to Megatron’s trial, things get underway, as Optimus Prime takes a nap in the judge’s bench as Gripper- whose name you don’t need to remember, as he’s not actually important- tells everyone about how brutal the Decepticon Justice Division is, even to Autobots. Which isn’t really supposed to be their deal, given their, y’know, name, but I suppose nobody’s perfect.
Up in the stands, in an… opera box, I guess? Rodimus is watching the proceedings, when Atomizer walks in. Which I guess you can just do in a Cybertronian court case. Sure.
Atomizer, in case you forgot, is the dude who has a bow and arrow, and used to be an interior designer.
Say, didn’t Whirl has a bow and arrow in the last issue when he attacked Megatron? Mighty curious, that.
Rodimus and Atomizer briefly reflect on the DJD, recalling the horror that was Vos- not that Vos, the other one. Rodimus would really just rather this all be over with so the Lost Light can get back to finding the Knights of Cybertron, and it’s at this point that Atomizer breaks out a thing he really ought not have- the count for the vote on whether or not Rodimus should stay on as captain. Rodimus doesn’t want to look at it, because it was supposed to be anonymous for a reason, and tells Atomizer to destroy the list entirely.
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Hm, that’s not a terribly determined face there, Rodimus.
Back in the present, specifically in Swerve’s, Groove is threatening to break Streetwise’s arm, as we get the downlow on just what exactly our Legislator buddy’s deal is. Turn’s out, Swerve got one of the things reprogrammed, so that he follows not the Autobot Code, but something else entirely.
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Hey, Swerve?
I don’t expect you to know this, because I don’t think you were present when they revealed this information to the readers, but… your new bouncer is made of people. He’s a dude made of other dudes, namely the Circle of Light. There’s a chance that you reprogrammed a sentient being, my good bitch.
Anyway, Swerve’s in a fucking mood because his shoulder hurts, someone’s stealing his shit, and Megatron has joined the narrative. Over at a nearby table, Skids, Nautica, and Riptide take a gander at the tabloids. Trailcutter, who is positively smashed, to the point where he’s just leaking booze out of his face like it’s his job, isn’t terribly interested in that, however.
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What an astute observation, Riptide. And people say you’re stupid!
Trailcutter wants to drink some more, because it’s very likely he’s got a problem, but the mention of “Megatron’s super fuel” makes him feel like it’s time to stop hounding Swerve and start performing crimes.
Back during the trial, we get to Starscream’s testimony. He’s wearing his crown. He’s acting like a self-righteous asshole, as he defends Megatron.
Well, “defend” in the technical, legal sense, I suppose.
But really it’s more about him insulting Megatron’s intelligence, strength, and courage, in front of a LOT of people, while also trying to make himself look better in the war crime department. Megatron doesn’t appreciate this very much, if his murder-face is anything to go by.
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Megatron lets Ultra Magnus (his defender, if you’ll recall) know that he wants a private word, and court goes into a brief recess.
Back in the present, Nightbeat’s busy looking at a pin-up of Rung’s alt-mode, when someone knocks on his door. That someone is Chromedome, who’s trying to solve the mystery of The Missing Declaration of Love. Not that he says that specifically out loud.
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You two were married, why- okay. No point in yelling at this digital copy of a comic book.
Anyway.
So, the whole screaming thing only happened the one time, and everything was back to normal on subsequent plays of Rewind’s message. Nightbeat seems to be leaning towards the depressive isolating getting to Chromedome, which Chromedome responds to by telling him to get the fuck out. Alas, someone’s blocking the door!
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YO WHAT THE FUCK-
Back with Trailcutter’s subplot, our drunken friend is in the middle of breaking into the Medibay. Our trio of cool-colored pals watch him from back at the bar, by way of a laptop that looks like it was built the same year I was born.
As Trailcutter attempts to commit a crime, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet pass by, trying to figure out how to handle the whole coffin situation. Trailcutter’s about to punch the locks off a door, and Nautica decides that this is where she’s going to draw the line today, leaving the gaggle of fools to their shenanigans. Then Tailgate glomps Skids, throwing the computer to the ground and breaking it, as Trailcutter finds the door to the Medibay magically open.
If you don’t know what glomping is, there’s a 60% chance that you’re not old enough to vote in the US.
Trailcutter sneaks into the Medibay, we get a reminder that Ambulon is super dead, and Trailcutter commits theft from a food bank. What a guy.
This is the point where security shows up, armed with a great deal of guns, one of which is Megatron himself. Trailcutter, instead of feeling super powerful, actually feels positively awful after consuming Megatron’s rations of “super fuel”. Because he, as an Autobot, doesn’t want to be within 50 yards of Megatron, Trailcutter breaks out the forcefields the moment the guy approaches him. And oh, what a doozy this one is.
Trailcutter’s gotten himself a fancy new trick- this forcefield he’s broken out lasts for a solid half-hour, and he can’t turn it off. I’m sure that won’t bite him in the ass at any point in the near future, no-siree!
Back in the past, Rattrap is commending Starscream on playing the field and getting the public slightly more on his side, but Starscream’s too busy patting himself on the back to really pay attention. He knew damn well that Megatron wouldn’t like what he had to say on the stand, and now things are finally looking up for ol’ Screamer.
Over with Optimus Prime, Slamdance is showing off how the general public is really into this whole “folks being held accountable for their actions” thing.
In the present, Chromedome and Nightbeat seem to have remembered they have alt-modes and are driving down the hall back to Nightbeat’s room- wonder what the speed limit for the Lost Light is?- and discuss just what the hell happened. The current theory is that the Rewind they saw was a Data Ghost- a collection of information so dense, it had a not-quite-physical presence that wasn’t 100% removed when he died.
Which is a little fucked up, but let’s see where this goes.
Nightbeat undoes the 40,000 locks on his door while Chromedome bleeds guilt all over the shag carpet over the fact that he hasn’t been looking for Dominus Ambus like he said he would.
C’mon James, gimme that Chromedominus endgame.
Nightbeat finally opens the door to find a small problem.
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Hm. That’s… not normal.
Over in the Medibay, Trailcutter’s bubble has burst, allowing Megatron to slap him in the back of the head. This head-slapping induces his FIM chip permanently, making it so that he can never get drunk again.
Weird party trick, Megatron. Kinda shitty, really.
Megatron then gives Trailcutter the job of director of security, because he needs direction in his life. Trailcutter just sort of takes what he’s given, because I suppose you can’t really argue with a guy who can literally slap you sober, and also threatens to destroy you if you fuck up even once. Nice, Megs. Nice.
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MEGATRON THAT’S BEEN SITTING LIKE THAT FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR YOU FUCKING WET NOODLE
So, since there’s mystery juice all over the floor and no one’s died, Megatron assumes that the coffin ought to be fine to crack open.
Please note that Megatron is not a medical professional, and his views are now peer reviewed by medical professionals. Megatron is in no way endorsed by the WHO.
Anyway, Rodimus is in there.
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Pretty fucked up.
Back in the past, recess is over, and Ultra Magnus comes bearing bad news- Megatron wants to change his plea to “innocent.” This gets about the reaction one would expect from just about anyone.
Well, except Rodimus, who’s too busy reading that list that he wanted destroyed. He’s very sad about it.
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I know, what a bummer!
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