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beomglocks · 3 years

Text

[10:19pm] with soobin

warnings & other: gamer bf!soobin, some touching, kissing, just something while i get done with requests, some play fighting?, some curses, suggestive or smut idk if this counts as smut probably not bc nothing really happens

you exhale dramatically to catch your boyfriend's attention but to no avail.

the sounds of his friend's screams and hollers mixed with his own exclaims completely drown out any of your attempts to get his ear.

"ITS NOT ME I SWEAR! ASK KAI I WAS WITH HIM IN MED BAY," soobin shouts into his headset. a moment of deliberation between his four other friends goes by before he speaks up once again. "KAI WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO GET EVERYONE TO VOTE ME I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO YOU!"

he groans out in frustration at how unwilling his friends are to any kind of reason as to why he's not the imposter. it's been like this for approximately two hours, and counting, frankly it was getting old to you now. it was cute at first, how he would whine and pout when he was being voted out despite being a crewmate. how he would grin evilly when the screen indicating that he was the imposter would appear in front of him.

however, that was hours ago. now it was just him trying to find new ways to deceive his friends and yelling his way out of being voted out.

"soobin," you call out. he was sitting on the floor of your room since he had invited himself over for quality time with you but instead found your laptop and started playing. he was dressed in his staple piece grey sweats with a matching grey hoodie over his head of messy black hair. he looked super cuddly, too bad he was paying you no mind.

"soobin," you try again, a bit louder. you stand by the door frame of your room looking at him from across the room. he perks up at the sound of your voice. everyone must be on mute since he was finally able to hear you.

he turns around to you, this being the first time in 2 hours he's paid you any mind. "hey baby," he motions for you to come over to him and you do willingly. you situate yourself on his lap facing the screen too. you watch silently as his mini character runs across the screen and does tasks.

"you said we'd do something fun," you pout, still watching his character. you see it stop and realize soobin is looking down at you. "i asked if you wanted to play and you said no," he mimics your pout but changes his expression when you narrow your eyes at him. you lean back into his shoulder and continue to watch him play.

around 2 minutes later you hear him gasp quietly over finding a body. he reports it and clears his throat, getting ready to state his case. "i-" "ITS SOOBIN HYUNG!" hueningkai's voice rings through soobin's mic. you smile over how competitive they can get with each other.

"wait im the one that reported it!" soobin sits up straighter causing you to lean forward a bit. you get back in your position with a silent huff. soobin was warm and you weren't about to give up this spot. they deliberate a little bit more before they all come to census once again.

four little characters pop up one by one under soobin's display name and you hear him groan. "you're all stupid," he announces before muting himself to watch the rest of the gameplay. you laugh to yourself but now that soobin is dead there's no reason to watch the game anymore.

you get up from your spot to get ready for bed but soobin grabs you arm. "hey where you going?" he has a frown on his face and his eyebrows are furrowed. you look around before locking your eyes with his, "to bed." you answer simply.

"the game isn't over, don't be like that," he pleads. he looks a bit serious and you wonder if you're pissing him off. "im tired and you're ignoring me, i wanna go to bed binnie," you yank your arm from his hold with a smile but he grabs it again. with a little bit more force than you anticipated, he brings you back onto his lap. "stay," he says. you fall in him with your front on his lap with an oof.

"soobin," you try to wiggle away from his hold but he has you over his lap so you're not going anywhere. "soobin!" you shout, trying to smack his leg to get his attention. he smacks your thigh to shut you up. "ah stop yelling," he whines. "st-stop yelling?!" you gape. he was NOT telling you to stop yelling when he has spent the last 2 hours raging at a computer screen.

he suddenly grabs you by your waist, using all his strength to flip you onto the ground. he hovers above you, watching you struggle to get out of his hold. you feel his fingers rub your waist gently but his fault was leaving your hands free. you use one of your hands to push his face back by his jaw. "ack! what the fuck!" he grabs the hand that's pushing his face back and pins it to the ground, doing the same to your other free hand.

"what the hell y/n!" he frowns, looking absolutely done with you. you look away from him, not really sure what to say. once he feels you've calmed down he moves his hand from your wrists back to your waist. he leans closer to you, kissing your lips, then your cheek, then down to your neck.

"why are you acting like a brat?" he whispers when he gets close to your ear. before you can answer you feel his cold hands crawl under your shirt. you shiver, "we were supposed to do something fun." he chuckles, kissing you again on your neck. "ok. we can have fun then," he teases.

he runs his hand down your body slowly until he gets to the hem of your jeans. he smirks at you when he sees the desperate look on your face. "s-"

"wE cAn HaVe FuN ThEn," comes beomgyu's voice from soobin's headphones. soobin pauses his actions to look at the screen. its on the meeting screen and the mic symbol on your laptop is not crossed out. "oh shit the mics been on this whole time," soobin laughs nonchalantly. "duh," you hear yeonjun say.

you pout when soobin gets off of you to go back to the game. "don't pout," he says when he makes sure the mic is off. "whatever, im going to bed," you get up from the ground to walk to your bed.

this time he doesn't stop you, instead, you hear him tell the boys he'll be right back.

#soobin imagines #soobin reactions #soobin drabbles #soobin drabble #soobin smut #txt imagines #drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcannons #soobin headcanons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #soobin timestamps #soobin fic #soobin x reader #smut #fluff

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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Under My Skin: Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Word count = 4,6 k

Chapter Warnings = swearing, canon-typical violence, bad writing

Summary = You hate Poe Dameron. Simple, right?

Edit = Cross posted to AO3

Part 1 of 4 (I think)

Poe Dameron didn’t like you and you didn’t like Poe Dameron.

“Because!” You grouse to Rose as you make your way to the cantina, “he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else, no one could ever come close to his skills, and he always gets the best missions, and he’s good, but he’s not that good, he acts like he’s god's gift to women - no scratch that - to the galaxy, and he’s so arrogant!” You’re growling in frustration as you round the corner, suddenly lowering your voice as much as you can because Dameron is right there at the end of the corridor, deep in discussion with General Organa and Finn.

Rose’s only response is to whack you over the head as she walks through the swinging doors in the centre of the corridor. You’ve never been so glad you don’t have to walk past Dameron in your life. “What was that about?” You hiss as you catch up with Rose, grabbing your own tray and helping yourself to dinner. “You didn’t have to hit me in front of General Organa.” Rose snorts. “Yeah the General was the one you were worried about.”

Trays full, the two of you spot an empty booth and hurry towards it, sitting opposite each other. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won’t shut up about Poe.” She jabs her fork at you, causing bits of potato to fall to the table. You can only gape, words escaping you momentarily.

Momentarily.

“What! I won’t - Dameron - he - he and I - urgh! - never in my life - he’s annoying!” You settle on finally, fully aware that you’re now whining. “He frustrates me!”

Rose raises an eyebrow, “Well maybe you need to work out those frustrations.” You shake your head, deciding to ignore her for now as you concentrate on eating. “You do need to get laid.”

You yelp, coughing when you try to swallow too quickly in shock. And then- “I can help with that, sweetheart.” You whip round, eyes narrowing when Dameron’s behind you, his flight suit tied around his waist, exposing his dirty vest and irritatingly strong arms. The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Finn - you can no longer count the amount of times he’s beaten you.

You take another scoop of dinner before talking with a full mouth. “Ok, one, I’m not your sweetheart, and two, Rose is wrong, and even if she was right, I definitely don’t need your help with-” you pause, swallow, and gesture vaguely in his general direction. “That.”

This, annoyingly, only seems to make him grin more. “That? You’re not gonna call it what it is?” You lean back, pulling your most unimpressed look onto your face, as he continues, still smirking, even having the audacity to wink at you. “Hot, animal sex.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, turning back to your dinner. “Whatever you say, Dameron.”

“Does it make you feel better, being mean to me?” Dameron asks as he squeezes onto the small piece of bench next to you. You huff, moving up so that you’re not touching. You don’t like him, but you’re not rude.

Ignoring his question, you deflect. “Where’s Finn? Don’t you want to sit with him?” It takes more effort than it should to sound like you’re asking out of interest, and not because you want him to go away. Which you do.

“He’s still talking to Leia.” Your eyes flick to Rose, and she knows what you’re thinking. You twist your body to face Dameron, bringing a leg up under you. “Is this about the mission?” Her voice is low as she leans across the table, forgetting about the rest of her dinner.

The last few days have been hell. Rumours have been flying around base, centered around a box full of Jedi crystals. Kyber crystals, you’d told Rose the other day, not that the name cleared anything up. You’d poked around the base’s library on your datapad when you had the odd chance, but the Jedi were now the stuff of legend, just stories told to children about ‘the good old days’.

The rumours made things worse - you’re not sure how much of it to believe - there were so few people who were even Force sensitive but as far as you were aware there were no Jedi left. Luke Skywalker was lost, and therefore probably dead. And even if Jedi did still exist, weren’t they supposed to be the good guys? Why hadn’t they come to help fight along with the Resistance?

But Dameron decides to play dumb. “What mission?” His eyes are too wide to be innocent and it annoys you. “Finn’s talking to Leia about…” he pauses, eyes desperately searching the cantina as he tries to think of a good excuse. “The quality of the food!” Turning to you, his eyes are intense. “I know you want more chocolate pudding.” You ignore how he knows that, instead focusing on glaring at him. “Dameron do you think I’m a good pilot?”

“Look,” he turns to face you, ignoring his own food even as you continue to eat, “it’s nothing to do with your skills as a pilot.” He pauses, but you interrupt before he can give you some empty platitude. “I think it is - otherwise why am I not being included?”

“Hey, will you listen,” he turns to you, poking his finger at you for emphasis. “This mission is top-secret and the risk of the First Order finding out is high so-” This time you properly interrupt, flicking his finger out of your personal space.

“So you just decide to talk about it in the corridor by the busy cantina, where everyone and their mother will see you?”

This shuts him up.

The two of you are looking into each other's faces, inches apart. And it’s annoying because Dameron is unfortunately handsome. Why? Why is he of all people so good looking? Rose coughs obnoxiously loud, causing the two of you to break eye contact and turn to look at her. You lean back from him, trying your best to look thoroughly unimpressed as he stands, picking up his tray and when he speaks, huffing, his voice is sharper than it was before.

“Look, I only came over to say that we’re going to have a mission briefing tomorrow at 6. Ok? So, just-” He leaves, mumbling the rest of the sentence under his breath as he walks across the cantina towards Rey, leaving you with your mouth hanging open, looking and feeling like an idiot.

“Well,” you say as you turn back to Rose. “That’s why I hate him.”

“You’ve got a mission, aren’t you pleased about that?” You can tell you’re annoying her now, but you roll your eyes. “Yeah, with Dameron. He’s just going to be hanging over my shoulder and passing judgement whenever he can. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Every time you came back from a mission Dameron was there. Always. Just waiting to tell you what you should have done, how you should have flown, how he would have done it. As though the only reason he hadn’t done it was because he was too important.

You knew you didn’t fly how most people did, it had cost you marks in your final exams at school, and it cost you a place in a higher squadron, but it was hard to find the will to change when the poster boy for the Resistance saw nothing but incompetence when he looked at you. Bastard, you couldn’t help but think as you stabbed the last of your greens, wishing it was his face.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

The mission had been going so well. You’d dropped into the planet’s upper atmosphere, bypassing the planet’s security, got inside the compound, obtained the uber-secret box (your briefing hadn’t quite covered what was inside, annoyingly) and you’d been about to sneak out when you’d decided a bit more snooping was necessary.

The box had been in the centre of a library/museum set-up and even you could tell that these were rare books. So you’d told Dameron to inspect the objects while you scanned the books, pulling out a few that caught your eye.

The first warning you had been given was a blaster grazing your arm, causing you to yelp in pain, dropping the books and duck to the floor as another shot had ripped through the shelves - an inch or two above where your head had been. So a crap shot then.

Paper had fluttered down around you as you looked for Dameron. The shelves would provide good cover but unfortunately it also meant you couldn’t see your shooter. Pulling your blaster out from its holder, you aimed a couple of returning shots into the darkness at the edges of the room as you looked for Dameron.

You found him near the exit, standing over a number of droids. He’d been holding the box with one arm, the other bleeding heavily, but you’d managed to escape, tangling with another droid who’d punched you as you left the way you came, avoiding the crap shooter on your way out. You didn’t want the First Order to know who’d been there.

So now you and Dameron were walking back to the ship, cutting through undergrowth as you desperately tried to remember the way, face throbbing in pain. Dameron had fallen quiet very quickly, and you were alarmed to see how much blood he had lost so far. His face was pale and all you could think was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t’ve tried to poke around and look for other useful bits and pieces, you would have got out with no trouble.

Oh shit.

You were definitely lost now. You’d taken a gamble on the last turn and this was wrong. There should be a stream somewhere to your left which led back to the ship. Where was it? This was so wrong. And how were you going to admit this to Dameron? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” Dameron’s voice wasn’t right. He’d lost a lot of his power, and you turned to face him, watching as a small drop of blood fell to the floor. You don’t want to say it, you know he’s going to hold this over your head later, your first truly important mission and you’ve fucked up so bad. “I -” you hesitate, mouth open, so unwilling to say it, especially to Poe, you have to force it out. “We’re lost...I don’t know the way back.”

And...oh god, you’re not going to start crying are you? You can feel the familiar burn on the back of your eyes so you blink, looking away from him. But Dameron starts struggling, using his injured arm to try and reach down, looking for something. You move closer, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop moving, to stop aggravating his injury. “What are you doing?” And your voice is mean and you don’t know why but his skin is cool, cooler than it should be causing your heart to skitter out of control.

Dameron looks up into your face and his eyes are a little unfocused. Shit. “Looking for a tracker - the ship -” His voice doesn’t sound normal. But you have to be the calm one, you have to be the one in charge so you push the panic down, trying to speak normally. “Where is it? You shouldn’t be using that arm.”

“In my pocket, I -” But you’re one step ahead, unceremoniously dropping his wrist and reaching in, pulling the tracker out. A thin disc with a central button, which you press, and a red light spins around the edge before settling a direction to your left, forcing you to turn about 45 degrees.

You set off, pushing through the undergrowth and snapping branches from trees, kicking any debris out of Poe’s path as he stumbles behind you. Panic is still rising in you, you can’t be the reason the Resistance’s best pilot dies. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckin’ motherfucker, please, please, plea-

You pause for a second, trying to get your breathing back under control, even as it skitters away from you. You glance back at Poe, who nods at you.

BB-8 is waiting back at the ship, preliminary checks before take-off having been completed. You help Poe lift into the co-pilot’s chair you’d been occupying earlier and squeezing into the pilot’s chair. You don’t remember the flight back, don’t remember dodging the planet’s security as you took off, all you remember is how pale and quiet Poe is. He watches you the whole way which would normally annoy you, but you don’t think his eyes are fully focused.

You’ve done better landings when you get back to the base, but you don’t really care, Poe’s breathing is different, you can’t stop the panic rising in you, and the second you’ve opened the door you’re yelling, voice already hoarse. “Medic! Medic! I need - I need a medic!” People swirl around you, when did they get here? But you don’t want to let go of Poe, one arm around his back, his uninjured one around your neck while you keep a tight hold of the box.

You fight as someone tries to unfurl your fingers, Poe’s weight disappearing and you’re crying now, hardly able to open your eyes. You don’t feel the sharp sting of the tranquilizer, instead blindly fighting the rising darkness inside you, unable to recognise it for what it is. Voices are all around you, muffled like you’re underwater and lights are appearing in bright spots above your head. You’re floating, falling backwards, further and further, until everything turns black.

***

The debrief was not fun.

Barely out of the medbay, you’d relayed to General Organa what had happened, how it had been your idea to stay back, how you’d got lost in the forest after, how you made a mess.

Due to your injuries, it had been just you and her, and even now, safely in your bunk, you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than having to tell a whole command room. Sure, you’d been spared public humiliation, but at the cost of having General Organa’s full attention on your failure.

You’d pulled your curtain across your bunk, and you felt as though you might have to stay buried under your covers for at least a week to emotionally recover from the whole ordeal. The worst part of it was that General Organa hadn’t even seemed disappointed, or angry, just...like she expected it.

And Dameron was still in the medbay. It was coming up to 4 days later, but you’d maintained your distance, not sure your fragile heart could stand the pain of knowing his condition was your fault, no matter what anyone said.

You wanted to see him, to apologise, but at the same time the idea of facing him made you feel sick. It was your fault he was in the medbay, you should have prevented it. In fact, the only reason you even knew he was still in the medbay was because you assumed there would be some kind of announcement or celebration when he was better.

A knock on your door made you jump, and then frown, however the door began to open before you could respond which you supposed was kind of your fault, you should have locked it, now you were going to have to talk to someone-

And General Organa walks into the room.

You stand up so fast, you get a rush of blood to the head, your vision going black slightly at the edges. “General, I-” you start talking before you even know what you’re going to say, so shocked to see your hero in your room. Your eyes flick over to the mess of clothes you haven’t bothered to wash in the last week, tissues on the floor, half eaten snack bars and their wrappers littered around as you wished the room was a lot tidier.

“I wanted to check how you were getting on.” Her voice is soft, but still carries that familiar authority as she pulls out the chair from your desk and sits on it.

Your mind goes blank. General Organa...wanted to check...on you?

You manage to pull yourself together, sitting back down on your bed with a suddenly excellent posture. “Good, thank you General.” You can hardly look at her, it’s like she emits light, and it’s too bright, too much.

You’re hyper-aware of your every movement, this is the first time you’ve properly talked to her, you want her to like you, and oh my god she’s in your room? Her eyes never leave you, so you stare at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “Call me Leia.” She pauses, but it’s not enough time for the implications of that to sink in. “It’s understandable if you’re still feeling rough.” Oh stars you’re going to cry.

Your eyes are watery and you know looking down only increases the chances of them falling, but if you look up, she’ll see. “I wish I’d done things differently.” You say, and your voice sounds rough.

The room is swimming when you finally look up, but General Orga - Leia is smiling softly at you. “I think about every second of that mission and for every decision that I made, I wish, I wish I did the opposite thing.”

“Why?” The question is asked so simply, and there are so many answers, they crowd your mind. “You were successful, weren’t you?” Still you can only gape at her. Successful? Dameron is still in the medbay-

“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for a mission going sideways.” Leia continues, “But you retrieved the box, you’re both alive, Poe is healing well, the medics say the bleeding has stopped and his stomach is on the mend now.” His stomach? You frown, his stomach wasn’t injured, it was just his shoulder, but Leia mistakes your frown for further dissent.

“I know you think it was your fault because you said let’s stay behind, but what if you had found something important? And Poe agreed, didn’t he? It’s not just on you. You just have to learn when the risk is worth the reward.” With that, she stands, so you do too. “I’ll formally debrief the two of you together when Poe’s out of the medbay, but I thought you needed to know this.” You nod, unable to speak again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

It’s almost too late before you can speak again, Leia halfway out of the door, but she turns back when she hears your voice. “Thank you.” And you mean it. Leia didn’t say much, and nothing new, but she was right. The mission was technically a success. Things went wrong, but you were both alive.

Sitting back on your bed, you feel lighter, more like normal. And a part of that normality is annoyance towards a certain pilot. He was injured in his stomach? The more you think about it, the more a cold fury rises in you. Why wouldn’t he say? He was carrying that heavy box and - you let out a growl, surprisingly loud in the quiet room.

You make your way to the medbay, becoming angrier and angrier with each step. No wonder he had so much blood loss! How dare he not say anything! How could he not tell you? Did he not trust you?

You ignore the signs that tell you visiting hours are over, and maybe it’s the look in your eyes that stops any medics from reminding you as such when you march up to the front desk. “I need to see Poe Dameron, which room is he in?” You feel a tiny bit bad for being so demanding to an overworked medic, but you can’t think past how Poe Dameron lied to you.

You’re shaking as you walk to Dameron’s room, not bothering with pleasantries as you bang open the door. He’s lying in the bed, BB-8 charging in the corner and had you been calmer you would have noticed how Dameron jerked awake when you slammed his door shut. You ignore how he’s hooked up to various machines and drips, bandages covering his body.

“You were shot in the stomach?” Your voice is mean again.

Dameron just blinks groggily at you, a combination of drugs and tiredness, but you push down any pity, letting righteous anger flood your veins with fire. “What?” His voice is hoarse from misuse and sleep.

“You were shot in the stomach?” You repeat, keeping hold of that cold fury as you look down at his face. This extra minute is all Dameron needs to wake up properly and realise why you’re so upset. “No- just, just stabbed.”

“Just!” - and it’s like you’re watching yourself, no control over your actions and even to your own ears you sound hysterical, the volume of your voice rising.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You demand as he presses a button, lifting the top half of his bed up. Tears are once again pricking your eyes, but this time you will not be crying, so you wipe them away quickly, past caring.

“Because,” Dameron huffs, realising that's not a full sentence. “I don’t know - you...you had enough on your plate, I didn’t want to add to it.”

“You should have told me.” Your voice is dangerous now, your whole body thrumming with an unshakeable anger, even as you stand completely still. A strong undercurrent continues to carry you onwards in the conversation, and you know you’ll need to leave before it runs out. “You carried that box for fuck knows how long, and what? You were just hiding your injury? You just wanted to be a hero, or embarrass me?”

Dameron stays silent, glare heavy in his eyebrows. It’s too much, you want, you need answers.

“ANSWER ME!” You roar, lashing out in defence.

“I had to!” He’s shouting now too, pushing against the bed with his strong arm. “It was hard enough to snap you out of it when we were in the compound - I wasn’t going to add to it - I had to know you could fly us home!”

His words are like they punched you, a heavy exhalation, and it’s as though all the anger was tightly held in your lungs. “I flew us home.” Your voice sounds small as you take a step back. Dameron’s found the one chink in your armour again, just like he did when you first met, the one weak spot of your insecurity and smashed it to smithereens.

There’s silence in the medbay, pushing against your eardrums as though to emphasise just how the loud the two of you were. There’s a brief flicker of curiosity in the back of mind, wondering why the nurses haven’t intervened yet.

You can’t look at Dameron anymore, instead taking in the number of different machines he’s hooked up to, watching the drips, how his heart rate starts to lower as he forces himself to calm down. “So you didn’t trust me?” You don’t want the answer, but you can’t stop the words.

He takes his time answering again, but you still don’t look at him, hands playing behind your back with the hem of your jumper. “If you don’t trust me - you should have asked Leia to switch me out!” Shut up, shut up, shut up, why can’t you stop talking, you stupid-

“Maybe I should’ve!” His voice doesn’t change, there’s no difference in his heart beat, although it’s on the high side of normal, matching yours, but something changed. There’s a split in the room, a chasm separating the two of you that wasn’t there before.

“Well why didn’t you?”

“Because I felt sorry for you!” Your eyes snap up, looking at his face in terror. “I wanted to give you a chance! I didn’t think you’d fuck up like that.” If Dameron’s earlier words were a punch to your gut, these sent you sprawling. Short of an atomic blast inside you, any feeling left inside you was obliterated. Hot embarrassment crawls up your arms and you want Dameron to feel the same pain.

“Fuck you.”

The words hang there, each second an eon. Poe instantly regrets his words, knowing he’s gone too far. He opens his mouth to apologise, but the words don’t come.

Neither of you say anything, glares still spitting red-hot fire, when you suddenly want to leave. You don’t want to see Dameron’s face again, not for a long time. So you clench your jaw, throwing up your middle finger and slamming the door behind you.

***

Isolating yourself doesn’t seem quite so appealing once you’ve left the medbay, so instead you make your way to Rose’s room, grabbing a bottle of firewater from the cantina as you pass. You need a drink.

When you arrive, you’re not sure you want to talk about the recent shitstorm your life has recently become so the first words out of your mouth when Rose opens the door is- “Do you like Jannah?”

It’s a little mean of a conversation to spring on your friend, but you’re a lot of things, and blind is not one of them. You’ve seen how the two mechanics look at each other. Especially when they think the other won’t see. Holding up the bottle as a peace offering, Rose smirks at you before leaving her door open as an invitation.

Rose denies having a crush on Jannah as you work through the bottle, only conceding on the point that Jannah is very pretty. You’re probably a little too quick to agree, blaming it on the drink that’s currently making you feel like you’re floating a couple of inches above the ground.

Comfortable silence falls on the two of you as you sit there, the floor a little cold under you, leaning against Rose’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking-” Rose starts but you interrupt before she can get any further.

“Dangerous.”

Rose doesn’t dignify this with a response, instead waiting until you wave a hand at her to continue.

“We’ve got a coordinating day off next cycle, if you wanna go to Sanctuary III. They’ll have a festival then, I can’t remember which but it should be good fun.” You can tell she’s keen, so you’ll go with her, but you find it hard to inject any enthusiasm into your voice.

Rose picks up on this, sighing as she refills her glass. “Alright don’t seem too keen on the idea.”

Your shrug, not really wanting to talk about the real reason you can’t find any excitement. “Sorry. I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice is gentle, and her hand is on your arm, and it’s so reassuring, so warm, your skin sings under her palm.

You talk to your feet as you tell Rose what Dameron said. “-and he - it was horrible, Rose,” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes again. “And I - we’ve never got on, he’s, y’know, annoying, we’re always bickering, but I just - I never thought that he actually - it’s my fault he’s injured, and maybe he does hate me and-”

You stop your tirade and for the first time, just let yourself cry and breathe for a second. Rose’s arm comes around your shoulder and you lean into it, slightly. “It’s fine - I mean I never liked him anyway, now I can just move straight into the dislike section, maybe even hate I dunno.”

“Ok you should know that that’s not healthy first of all.” Rose’s voice floats out from above your head. “Second, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, and anyway, who cares what he thinks? Leia thought you did well. And third, this is all the more reason to do something on our day off!”

You give a weak chuckle and nod. You spent the rest of the night, playing cards and chatting about lighter topics until both of your eyes start to burn and you make your way to bed.

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter 2

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #...eventually #Star Wars #poe dameron #fanfic #please be nice lol #so nervous I'm grinding my teeth #but I couldn't look at this anymore it was just getting worse by the second #if anyone wants to listen/know about the playlist I made for this let me know #I have a problem with both italics and commas #who knew #I physically feel sick posting this oh god #should be writing my uni essay instead #if I missed any warnings/triggers please let me know

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depressedkakashihatake-fics · 3 years

Text

Training Interuption

Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

3937 words

Edited by: @mireleth

Thirty minutes late.

It was unlike Gai-sensei to be late. Usually he was the first one to the training field, a smile on his face and more energy than an adult had any right to have. And to be late when he had promised to show Neji how to add more power to his gentle fist? It was just inconsiderate, and a tiny bit worrying.

“We should go look for Sensei,” Lee’s voice broke the silence that had fallen between the three of them, his words laced with worry. “What if he is injured?”

“I’m sure nothing bad happened,” Tenten spoke up. “Gai-sensei would only get injured on a mission, and since we saw him at team dinner last night we know he didn’t go on a mission without us.”

A good point. Any mission that could cause Gai-sensei an injury severe enough to prevent him from attending their morning training would take longer than a night. Still, it was out of character for Gai-sensei to be late, and since he doubted that his sensei was taking punctuality lessons from his eternal rival, something had to be done.

“We could check his apartment,” he suggested, cringing when both of his teammates looked at him. “We can’t start training without him. He had the training plan and Lee’s not going to focus if he’s worried.”

“I guess you’re not wrong.” Glancing down at all of the scrolls she had scattered on the ground to work on while they waited for their sensei, Tenten sighed. “L-let me just clean up.”

“No need to clean up.” Neji moved into an attack stance when he heard an unfamiliar voice nearby, his byakugan activating and searching the area for the intruder's chakra signature. “Gai said there was someone on the team I’d like to meet. Should have just told me he had a weapons enthusiast, I would have shown up earlier.”

Spotting a chakra signature nearby, he prepares himself to strike only to see the chakra moving around the area and coming to a stop directly behind him. Doing a one hundred eighty degree turn, he aimed his gentle fist attack at the intruder’s abdomen only to have the man grab his wrist and pull it upwards over his head.

“He did let me know to watch out for you though.” Turning his eyes up towards the man’s face, Neji narrowed his eyes. “Punchy little shit, aren't you?”

“I am Gai-sensei’s student, am I not?” There was a moment where the man actually looked impressed, but that quickly shifted into disinterest. Feeling the grip on his wrist being released, Neji watched as he was quickly forgotten in favour of Tenten’s scrolls still scattered on the ground.

“You’re not wrong about that.” There was a fondness in the words. “Gai would have all the punchy students. Speaking of which…”

Turning his attention back to the three genin, he examined each of them individually. From the way his eyes scanned over them Neji could tell that he was trying to size them up. See what he was dealing with.

“My name is Shiranui Genma, and I’m going to be taking over your training for today.” It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He had gotten his hopes up. Allowed himself to look forward to the training that Gai-sensei had promised him last night while they were enjoying sushi together as a team. “Don’t look so upset about it, kid.” Glaring back up at Gemma, he huffed. “Gai woke up this morning with a fever and no energy to spare. That second symptom would be enough to cause concern on its own. So, after a bit of arguing, he agreed to have me train you this morning in his place while he rests.”

That was… different.

“When Gai-sensei has been unable to teach us in the past, he sent Kakashi-sensei in his place.” Lee made a good point. It was out of character for their sensei to send someone that they didn’t already know. “Why would he send you this time?”

“Maybe he wanted to give you a fun sensei this time?” Neji’s pretty sure that both of his teammates have the same unimpressed looks on their faces as him. “Jeez, ok. Kakashi’s busy today.”

Not a favourable answer, but he was going to have to live with it.

“And what can you teach us?” Lee continued, the usual excitement in his voice replaced by an uncertainty that sounded completely out of place coming from him. “If Gai-sensei sent you, your taijutsu must be impeccable.”

A moment of silence and they had their answer.

“If your taijutsu isn’t up to par with at least Kakashi-sensei’s, then why are you here?” Perhaps it was a little harsh, but it was true. They needed a sensei who could improve the skills that they already had, not one that would just fill a spot. “Is there anything you have to offer us as a sensei?”

“Punchy and rude.” Genma glared down at him. “Are you sure you’re a Hyuga and not a Hatake?”

Whatever commentary was being made about his personality, Neji ignored it. That wasn’t the point of conversation that he wanted to focus on at the moment.

“Do you have any redeeming qualities?” he continued, ignoring Tenten when she jabbed him in the side. A silent message for him to tone back the ‘rudeness’ that others might pick up in his words.

“I’m Konoha’s top weapons expert.” Useless to him and Lee, but he could already see Tenten starting to vibrate with excitement beside him. At least someone would get something out of this disaster. “A tokubetsu jonin of Konohagakure, member of Team Choza alongside Ebisu and Maito Gai.”

“Oh,” Lee’s eyes widened, “you, you were on Gai-sensei’s team?”

A sharp nod of the head, and Neji knew that Lee was gone. A chance to find out about Gai-sensei when he was their age, from someone other than Gai-sensei? Considering Kakashi-sensei never told them anything, this was as good as a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Still, there wasn’t much here for him. He had no interest in learning about weapons more than he already knew. Tenten was the weapons expert on their team and he wanted to leave that to her. It was her passion, he wasn’t going to impede on it. Plus he really had gotten his hopes up for that training Gai-sensei had promised him.

“I think I’m going to go do something on my own.” He hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud, but with all eyes on him now he was kind of stuck. “It sounds as though this would be a great moment for Tenten to get some one-on-one training with someone who aligns more with her interests. While Gai-sensei certainly doesn’t leave her behind in our daily training, even helping her find her skills for summoning inanimate objects and creating a unique fighting style with it, he wasn’t the weapons enthusiast that Tenten was.

“In that case, perhaps it would be best if Neji and I trained together today while Genma-sensei focuses on Tenten.” Lee’s arm came down around Neji’s shoulders as he spoke, a proud smile on his face when Neji looked over at him. “I could use the time to spar with my rival; what do you say Neji?”

Not an optimal situation, but better than nothing.

“Does that mean…” Tenten looked up at Genma with hopeful eyes.

“I guess we’re focusing on weapons today.” The smile on his face says that the tokubetsu jonin is in no way adverse to this outcome. “Just try to stay out of trouble, you two. Gai will never forgive me if you two get hurt when I’m supposed to be watching you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Neji assured him. “Come on, Lee. Maybe today you can actually land a punch.”

“I will land five punches!” Lee proclaimed proudly, beaming when Neji glared at him. “Just you watch, Rival. You won’t be able to keep up with me during our spar.”

Unlikely, but he’d certainly be impressed if Lee did manage to do it.

Watching as Tenten returned her attention to her scrolls, sitting down beside them while Genma-sensei sat across from her, Neji turned and headed towards the exit with Lee hot on his heel. It would be best if they took their training somewhere else and avoided getting in the way of Tenten and Genma-sensei if they decided to start throwing weapons around.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Training was not going nearly as well as Neji had hoped.

Lee was certainly doing better than expected. He had improved a lot since their last proper spar, meaning Neji was going to have to keep a closer eye on his teammate’s training regimes.

Still, simple spars were not what he had planned for his day, and he was starting to get agitated with the entire situation.

Blocking another kick from Lee, Neji placed his hands on his waist and sighed. “This isn’t good enough,” he grumbled under his breath, watching as his teammate clambered to his feet. “I want to improve. I need to become more efficient in battle.”

“What do you want to do then?” Lee asked with a genuine interest that surprised him. He had no reason to be worried about Neji’s training, but he seemed as invested in it as if it were his own.

Not to mention he didn’t really have an answer. The only way to get better was to find out what Gai-sensei had in mind for his training, and that wouldn’t happen until he was able to tell Neji himself what he needed to do to improve his gentle fist.

“We could go visit Gai-sensei.” Lee’s suggestion caught his attention, but it wasn’t that easy. If Gai-sensei was sick he was likely in no condition to give Neji his training plans. “I’m sure Sensei has it written down somewhere. He always has notes on our training.”

A true fact. Neji had seen the book that Gai-sensei always brought to their training. The one he wrote down new team formations and training ideas in. An idea he had gotten from Kakashi-sensei one day after forgetting the training plan he had come up with for the team. A common occurrence apparently, since Gai-sensei was used to challenging himself to new and interesting training methods and had never really thought about a set training plan before.

The sporadic self challenges didn’t work for everyone though. Neji himself preferred the well thought out plans that his Sensei kept in the book.

Whatever it was Gai wanted to teach Neji, he must have written it down in his book. He wouldn’t risk forgetting about something that he spoke so highly of just yesterday. He’d want to make sure he remembered every detail.

It was decided then.

“Let’s go find Gai-Sensei.” Meeting Lee’s eyes, he tilted his head when Lee gave him a confused look. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to go. He may be sick but we both know you still want to see him.”

“Well, of course I do,” Lee whispered, “but I wouldn’t want to impede on his recovery. Genma-san said that he was sick enough that he couldn’t come to training. For Gai-sensei to miss training he must be extremely sick. If we show up there he may try to push himself too much and impede his recovery.”

Surprisingly thoughtful of Lee, but deep down Neji knew his desire to see their sensei would outweigh such a thoughtful response in the end. Not that he would call Lee out on it. The choice was up to him in the end, but Neji knew what he was going to do.

“If you want to wait here, I’ll be back soon,” he promised, turning his back to Lee and doing a quick calculation of which route would get him to the Jonin apartments as quickly as possible. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep yourself entertained in my absence.”

Jumping towards the exit he couldn’t help but smile when he sensed Lee following right behind him. As predictable as always.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gai-sensei’s window was easy to spot even from the streets three floors down. With a large red tortoiseshell statue sitting proudly on the window sill, one that the team had all pooled ryo in together to purchase for his birthday a few months ago, it was hard for anyone who knew the man to miss which window belonged to him.

“Try not to knock down the statue this time.” He glanced over at Lee, who sputtered when he heard the jab. “We don’t have Tenten with us today to catch it before it hits the ground.”

Not that Lee and him weren’t fast enough to catch it themselves if it did happen to fall again. Tenten just always made sure to let them go up before her because she didn’t like being crowded on the small window sill together, so she didn’t have to go chasing after it when it fell during their last visit. She just caught it while she was waiting for them to go inside of their sensei’s apartment.

“I won’t knock it over,” Lee promised. “But I will be the first one up there, so watch your step when you join me.”

With that said, Lee didn’t bother to wait for Neji’s response before jumping up towards the lowest available ledge. The only stepping stone he’d need to help him get up to their sensei’s window, though at the rate his skills were going Neji wouldn’t be surprised if he could make the jump from the street soon.

Giving his head a shake, Neji quickly followed Lee, intent on getting the information that he had come for and leaving as soon as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that seeing his students would cause Gai-sensei to disregard what he needed to do in order to heal, and would result in him pushing himself to train when he should be resting instead.

“Oh…”

Landing on the window sill by Lee’s side, Neji frowned when he heard the discomfort in his teammate’s voice. It was unlike him to say such a thing when it came to Gai-se—

“Oh…” It felt as if he had been slapped in the face. Of all the things to find themselves interrupting, it had to be this? “Didn’t Genma-san say that Kakashi-sensei was busy today?”

Lee nodded his head, but said nothing. His attention was focused completely on the scene in front of them. One that Neji really wished he wasn’t being subjected to at the moment. He was certain that finding your sensei cuddling up in bed with another person was something that every student wanted to avoid in their lives.

It was awkward and made him wish that he had just continued his training without complaints. It was a much better outcome than… this.

“This hardly counts as busy,” he grumbled under his breath, glaring at the two jonin. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t have been able to train us if this is all that he’s doing.”

“To be fair,” Lee turned to look at him, a soft smile on his face, “Tenten is getting training that she otherwise would not have gotten. We should not be upset about that since it will hopefully improve her fighting style which can only make our team stronger.”

A true point, but Neji was still a little bitter.

Kakashi-sensei was a skilled in Taijutsu. He had to be in order to even stand a chance against Gai-sensei in their spars, or to keep up with him when they were battling side by side. He would be able to explain to Neji what he needed to do according to Gai-sensei’s training plans. They had all seen him using Gai-sensei’s training notes when he had taken over their training for him before.

“You two should be training right now.” Neji glared over at Lee when he responded to Kakashi-sensei’s statement by slapping a hand over his mouth, as if that would solve the problem of them being caught spying. “There’s no point hanging around outside. You’ve already been seen.”

He’d like to think that he could train himself to go unnoticed, but considering the tattoo he had seen on Kakashi-sensei’s arm during one of his competitions with Gai-sensei, he didn’t think it would be possible. The jonin was hardwired to notice everything and everyone around him. To go unnoticed around him would be near impossible.

“I guess we’re going inside.” Not waiting for Neji to agree, Lee slipped inside of the open window and set his feet on the floor, smiling when Kakashi-sensei glanced over at them from the bed. “Hi.”

Following his teammate into the apartment, Neji frowned as he looked at the scene in front of him. It still made him a little uncomfortable seeing the pair like this. So exposed and open. It was as if he was intruding on a private moment.

“You can stop making that look, Neji.” Kakashi closed his eyes, though for once Neji could see the way his lips turned upwards into a smile. The usual dark blue mask was nowhere in sight and it only made Neji feel worse about being here. “It’s not like you caught us doing adult things. We’re just laying in bed.”

As far as he was concerned that was ‘adult things’. He certainly didn’t know anyone his age that would cuddle up to one of their friends when they were sick, hiding their face in the other person’s neck. Frankly, Gai-sensei looked like he was comfortable where he was. Like he couldn’t imagine being anywhere el—

“Oh.” Scrunching up his nose, Neji glared at the silver haired jonin. How had he not realized this before? “Really? You?”

“That hurts.” Kakashi-sensei threw a hand over Gai-sensei’s back, right where his chest was hidden under the other jonin’s body. “Am I not good enough for your sensei?”

This really wasn’t something that he wanted to be thinking of. His sensei’s love life was none of his business and it wasn’t why he was standing in this room staring at the pair with disgust.

“I don’t understand.” Neji closed his eyes, willing himself not to look at Lee with a look of utter annoyance. “Is there something that I am missing?”

Sometimes he wondered how Lee can be so dense about the things going on around him, but there was also a part of him that wished that he could miss the obvious once in a while. Like now, in this exact moment.

“We came here for a reason, Lee,” he reminded his teammate, cringing when Gai-sensei shifted in Kakashi-sensei’s arms and turned his face towards them with a happy sigh. “W-we really should get going quickly.”

“Gai-sensei looks comfortable.” Lee took a step forward and leaned in close, grunting when Kakashi-sensei reached out and flicked him in the nose. “Owww.”

“If you’re looking for his notebook it’s in the top right drawer of his desk.” Narrowing his eyes, Neji glanced over at the drawer in question, questioning himself for the first time since he had decided to come steal a glance into his sensei’s notebook. “But if I can offer you some advice…”

He wasn’t particularly fond of receiving advice from anyone other than his sensei, but it was unlikely that Kakashi-sensei would let him leave without saying whatever it was that he wanted.

“Let me guess.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighed. “Don’t look in the book and just hope I can improve myself without Gai-sensei’s training plans?”

“Well, it worked for Gai.” Tilting his head, Neji leveled the jonin with a look that told him to explain himself. “When he was young a lot of Gai’s improvements came from his own determination to become stronger. He didn’t rely on his sensei to have all the answers for how he could become stronger, though he did listen to him when he had suggestions.”

Pursing his lips, Neji glanced over at the drawer once more. He really had been looking forward to whatever it was that Gai-sensei was going to teach him. It had been the only thing he could think of since they finished dinner yesterday and all went their separate ways.

The ways he would be able to improve himself. How much stronger he could get.

Of course, he had always been able to improve himself even before he became part of Team Gai. While he was naturally talented he still had to train to keep his skills honed, so why wouldn’t he be able to improve himself with his own hard work as well? Lee and Tenten were able to do it, so perhaps he could as well. Even just a little bit.

“We weren’t here for the book anyways,” he lied, knowing full well that Kakashi-sensei could see right through him. “Lee was worried about Gai-sensei. It’s rare for him to get sick so he wanted to check in on him.”

For a moment he thought that Lee might argue with him. He had no right to lie for him after all, and nothing to gain from it.

But Lee said nothing, and just smiled when Neji looked over at him.

“I guess now we know that Gai-sensei is in good hands.” Lee smiled back at him. “We should get back to training.”

Nodding his head, Neji turned his back to the bed and made his way towards the window, well aware that Kakashi-sensei was watching him every step of the way. Stopping in front of the open window, he took one more look back at the bed.

Other than moving his face out of Kakashi-sensei’s neck, Gai-sensei hadn’t budged at all since Neji and Lee’s arrival. Not even the smallest action to show that he was trying to get more comfortable, or that he was restless.

Sick with a fever and drained of all of his energy, Neji absolutely expected to see his sensei having a restless sleep. It wouldn’t be new to him, since he was always tossing and turning in his sleeping bag whenever he slept during one of their many training days that ended with them sleeping under the stars.

But he looked comfortable, and somehow Neji knew it wasn’t because he just didn’t have the energy to move. For some reason the jonin with endless amounts of energy and a constant urge to keep moving and stay active was calm, content and comfortable laying there in Kakashi-sensei’s arms.

“I don’t understand his taste,” he admitted, smiling a little to himself when Kakashi-sensei chuckled. “But I’m glad he has someone who’s got his back.”

“Always.” A simple word full of so much promise. Neji didn’t think it was possible for someone to convey so much love and trust with so few words, but there it was. “Now get out of here, before he wakes up. It took me an hour to get him to lie down and go to sleep.”

Somehow that didn’t surprise Neji at all.

“Come on, Lee,” he glanced back at his teammate, “you still have to hit me in training.”

He could see Lee bursting with excitement at the reminder of his own personal challenge, and for the first time that day Neji thought that maybe it wasn’t such a waste. He wasn’t going to learn how to improve his gentle fist, not today at least, but he’d get to see Lee try to hit him in a fight.

And honestly, that itself was entertaining enough to make up for the loss in his training.

#Kakagai #Hatake Kakashi #Maito Gai #Neji Hyuga #Tenten #Rock Lee #Genma #Tenten and Genma are in the first part #but they get to train together and talk weapons so Neji and Lee leave them to that #Kakashi and Gai are near the end #XD #This was for a holiday exchange #but i didn't get finished being betad before i had to give it to the receiver #so i didn't want to post it here till it was done :D

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norcumii · 4 years

Note

I'm gonna be predictable and put in a really basic prompt: more Domino!Bad Batch. I don't have an exact prompt other than this, just a bunch of possibilities to choose from? Finding Fives, meeting up with Rex after getting Echo, Rex actually being told Domino is ALIVE??? There's so many ideas.

...this hit 1.6k, I think I can (SHOULD) declare this done. >_>

THANK YOU, THIS WAS AWESOME! For this set of prompts, based upon this plunnie. Armor designs are based on @mercysewerpyro’s gorgeous speculations!

******

“I hate being back here.” Droidbait glared around the hallways, his body language obvious to Hevy. He didn’t respond beyond a click of acknowledgement over the comms, because they all did. Kamino might be home to a lot of brothers, but it just held a lot of hurt and memories for him.

It ached, every time he thought about how they hadn’t been here, hadn’t been able to save their brothers when the Seppies attacked. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing the underside of his left bracer, where 99’s number rested on the inside against his wrist. Cutup saw the gesture, and leaned in to bump shoulders. Hevy rocked with the motion, nudging back with an elbow, and tried not to sigh.

They were specialists, a commando squad that went everywhere and did everything. The past was past, and back then....

He hated to admit it, but their presence might well have done nothing but add to the body count.

Yeah, he hated being back here too. At least this was just another routine checkup, and then they could go.

It still felt so weird, walking through Kamino’s halls in their armor. It was ARC style, bulkier than standard with better protection, pauldrons and kamas, all in their dark gray with subdued – but extensive – dark blue markings. It was better for stealth than the typical white, but it made them stand out like highlighted targets in the endless stark white of Tipoca City. It meant the local brothers – young, you could tell from the body language and the tight way they clutched at their weapons and watched them too overtly – were staring at the squad in a mix of awe and concern.

“There seem to be an awful lot of armed brothers here?” Cutup asked, way too casual.

“Someone’s nervous about something,” Hevy muttered back.

A loud scuffle and a yell behind them had the squad whirling around, hands on blasters but not drawing yet. There was some kind of escort squad there, longneck in the lead – at least, they had been. Some brother in reds had shoved the Kaminoan down, was wrestling weapons from the guard squad in a way that was damned impressive. Sure, garri-troopers were...not the top of the line soldiers, but this guy was good. ARC quality, probably, to get three down that fast without a single shot fired. The restraint was one of the reasons Hevy and the others didn’t draw – the other was something...familiar? Some weird sensation crawling up Hevy’s neck.

The rambunctious brother was arguing with a medical droid, then the Kaminoan slammed an alert button. The hallway lights went red, the brother grabbed the droid and ran, and Cutup cried out.

Droidbait managed words, which was more than Hevy could do upon seeing the fleeing brother’s goatee and temple tattoo.

“Fives! That’s Fives!”

-----

By the time they figured out what was going on, Fives was already en route to Coruscant. Droidbait didn’t bother asking permission; he just sauntered into their ship with a droid in tow, and poor AZI-3 was claimed as part of the team.

On the plus side, he and Reesh seemed to be okay with each other, and by the time they arrived at Coruscant, it was obvious they were keeping him. The intel he carried, though – that was...concerning.

Fives was crazy, but not the kind of crazy that would make up some kind of wild conspiracy theory.

They had a plan, they had a helpful med-droid, and all they had to do was stop being at least one step behind the action.

-----

Fives woke up. He hadn’t expected that. He distinctly remembered getting shot, and it hurt, and then it was just darkness grasping up and pulling him down.

But here he was, waking up. He opened his eyes, and that worked too. The ceiling looked like any other in a transport ship, which meant he could be anywhere. Limbs felt all accounted for, and he was far clearer headed than he’d been when–

When things went bad.

Noise to the side drew his attention: three troopers were there, in dark armor that probably indicated some kind of specialists. Well, they probably had answers.

“I’m dead?” he asked, not sure how death was actually supposed to work.

“No!” a cheerful, familiar voice declared, and AZI-3 floated into view far too close to his face. “You are still alive and now back to almost normal levels of functioning!”

“AZI! You’re–” He bit back a relieved sigh, because he was terrified the poor tinny was going to be recycled. “You’re ok?” He sat up, wincing at that feel of deep pain in his chest, a low ache that meant bacta had been applied and done its work, but it was recent and his body sure as hell remembered what had just happened to it.

“Okay, and part of the squad!” The little droid did a happy twirl, showing off a new paint job that was in the same subdued blue as the troopers.

Fives looked over at the one standing in front of the other two, jaig eyes on his dark bucket and a ‘1’ on both vambraces. “Congratulations. The squad?”

The leader nodded. “Experimental unit Clone Force 99. The Bad Batch.”

Oh-kay. “That’s a rousing endorsement.” He didn’t mean to be disparaging, but he was still getting over being dead.

The brother on the right shrugged – his bucket had an impressive set of fangs detailed on it, as if some large creature were trying to swallow it from behind. “S’what we get for bein’ weird,” he said, funny lilt to his voice and apparently not caring about Fives’ tone at all.

The third trooper sighed, giving the second one a look. “Unconventional, the word you’re looking for is unconventional!”

Trooper Two’s bucket waggled mockingly at Trooper Three, as if the brother there were making rude faces. Fives couldn’t hear anything, but he was willing to wager a few credits he didn’t have that there was something being taunted over a private channel.

The leader ignored the byplay. “Fives....” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m sorry, I just have to ask: you do realize that you might as well be dead to the Republic? The GAR?”

He’d been trying pretty hard to ignore that. Fives allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and just breathe. “I was raving, wasn’t I.” His voice was quiet, and he’d meant it as a question, though it didn’t come out that way. “At General Skywalker and Captain Rex. I didn’t give them anything coherent, did I.”

The silence went on too long. “I’m sorry,” the leader said.

Fives opened his eyes, and he thought he saw sympathy in the brothers’ body language. “What happened?”

AZI puffed up, the droid ready to infodump in the way that he did, but the third trooper raised a hand in a polite, minimalist gesture to stop – and miracle of the Force, AZI did.

“AZI made up a cocktail to slow down your body’s functions, to let us fake your death” the leader said, crossing his arms. “We’d hoped to snipe you before things went to shit, but – that didn’t go so well. The Guard–” His hands balled into fists, and while it was nice to see this guy had emotions. “No one can figure out why the fuck they weren’t shooting to stun, which is basic fucking protocol, but – they got you. We tagged you at about the same time, swapped bodies en route to the morgue, and now we’re about mid-rim.”

Fives’ hand went up to his chest, to where that ache still lingered. “How close was it?”

“Very.” AZI sounded subdued, which both was, and really really wasn’t an improvement. “Someone drugged you before we did, and the chemical combination was bad. But we worked through that and now you’re back!”

He couldn’t stop himself, frustration boiling over till he slammed a fist against the examination table he was on. “Nala Se,” he growled, because he could at least keep from shouting. “It must’ve been on the transport to Coruscant!”

The Bad Batch was patient enough to let him calm down, then the leader took a step forward. “You’re certain there’s a conspiracy. That the Chancellor is....”

“Bad news,” he growled, brain shying away from that unfortunate memory.

He nodded. “Then I’ve got an offer for you. Fives is dead. We’ll need time; none of us are great slicers but we make do – and we could use a new member to the squad.”

“And you’ll help me stop this?”

“Yes.”

Fives held out his hand. “Then you’ve got a deal.”

The leader grasped his wrist and they shook. “I gotta say.” His voice sounded...off; too thick and almost shaking. “I’m glad. Welcome back to the Bad Batch, Fives.”

“Back?”

The two troopers removed their buckets. The smartass had a neatly trimmed, minimalist beard and mustache, and a wry grin. He was crying, like his brother. That one was cleanshaven, with closecut hair and some kind of snaky tattoo coiling up from the neck of his blacks.

Then the leader took back his hand, and pulled his helmet. He had some impressive old burn scars along the face, but that didn’t obscure the matching designs that wrapped around his neck and up onto his cheeks.

Fives stared at those familiar Z-6 blaster cannons, and on some level through the shock he realized he was crying too. “Hevy?” he finally managed, looking over and registering that it was Cutup and Droidbait, then looking back because this could not be happening. “I thought you said I wasn’t dead.”

He was swamped in a sudden group hug, and through the laughter and tears he could hear his brother. “You’re not,” Hevy promised. “You’re not, and we’re not, and we’ll explain everything, but most of all we are going to solve this. Together.”

~end

#mercysewerpyro #star wars #domino squad #clone prompts #domino bad batch #sass and murder show #plunnie for adoption #ALL THE FEELS #long post is long

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bella-spil · 4 years

Text

Bad Boy

Summary: you put matters into your own hands when Frank is getting handsy with someone else. Frank x fem reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing.

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @kmuir1 @angrythingstarlight @sea040561 @wednesday-add-em

A/N: First time writing for Frank. LMK how I did and if u wanna join the taglist, I would love to add you.

You and Frank had been planning this date night for a while.

Your schedule had been so jam-packed lately that you barely had any time to spend with your boyfriend. You worked for a big company, one that had a big reputation for not being so easy on their employees, and you were no exception. Sometimes, you had to work double shifts because your bosses made excuses, but the only good thing about it was that you got paid.

But after calling in sick, and a long conversation with your boss, Jack, he told you to never let this happen again or you would be fired.

But, as soon as you got off the phone, you rushed to Frank, telling him the good news, of course he was happy and decided to have a date night, the one you had been planning for months. But, you weren’t able to make a reservation at your favorite restaurant, because apparently, “it was too short notice.”

Ya, too short notice your ass.

So, you and Frank decided to just go to a local bar. Even though it was a little cliche, it was where you first met each other. Then, at around 8 p.m, you headed to the bar that brought you two together.

When you got to the bar, you realised it was one of their dancing nights. Dancing nights were basically nights where if you didn’t dance you couldn’t drink. When the bar had these nights, college students and groups of girls would come. Practically every one of them would end up walking out drunk, throwing up, or leaning on their sober friend for support.

Frank wasn’t much of a dancer, so he thought the rule was ridiculous. And since he was such good friends with the bartender, Frank was able to let you and him slide. You and Frank got your seats at the bar and ordered two shots of whiskey.

“You having fun so far, babe?” Frank asked, looking at the crowd of dancing strangers.

“Yeah, of course I am,” you said after you drank your shot. “What about you, hun?”

Frank didn’t even hear your question. In fact, he wasn’t even paying attention to you. And he wasn’t even sitting next to you. You had to look around for a moment, and when you couldn’t find him, you asked the bartender.

“Wasn’t he just here?” the bartender asked, confused.

“Yeah, I don’t know where he-” you froze.

You saw Frank in the middle of the crowd. He had some weird crown on his head, one that looked like it belonged to a Disney Princess. But that's not all. He had his arms wrapped around some girl. And he was dancing with her and enjoying himself. It was like he completely forgot you were here.

You clenched your fists and you were jealous. And pissed. Your jaw tightened as you kept watching him, swaying to the beat with this chick wrapped around his fingers.

It was supposed to be your date night. You didn’t risk your job for nothing. You wanted to spend some quality time with your boyfriend, and this is how he repays you?

Anger boiled through your veins. Fury surged through your nerves. Rage rushed through your bones. Your eyes were locked on Frank and this girl. You were giving them the death look and others around you were getting scared from the look on your face. The bartender saw what you were looking at and gasped.

After a couple minutes, Frank came back from dancing. He acted like nothing happened, so you went along with it, only to blow up a little bit later.

“So, did you miss me?” Frank asked, leaning in for a kiss. You turned your head the opposite direction, to show your anger. And Frank immediately knew you saw him.

“Baby, that was nothing, I was just dancing. I didn’t make a move on her,” Frank assured you.

“Yeah?” you said, feeling the rush of fury getting to your voice. “Then why in the Hell were your hands wrapped around her?”

“Frank, you wanna head out?”

Another voice takes you by surprise and you look over to see where it’s coming from. And so does Frank. And it’s coming from that girl he was dancing with. That fucking bitch.

“You.” you growled, ready to pounce on her.

“Y/N, don’t,” Frank warned, knowing what might happen next.

“Umm, hi,” she waved, awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“That’s because you pulled me onto the dance floor when I was talking to her.” Frank countered.

“What’s your fucking name?” you asked, regaining control of the situation.

“Daphne,”

“Well, Daphne, maybe you should look before you take something that doesn’t belong to you,” you said.

“Well, whatever your name is. Like I give two shits. Maybe you should have been dancing with your boyfriend and cared about him a little bit more.” Daphne said, raising her voice and moving closer to you, making herself look intimidating.

By this point, all eyes were on you. The music stopped playing in the background, and everyone wanted to see what would happen next.

Then you had an idea. One to out do this bitch. In your hometown, especially in college, you started drinking. You started to get an addiction to it, and developed a high tolerance to it. Everyone in college knew to not challenge you to a drink off, because you would win all the time. And when you were at the bar, dealing with your addiction, you met Frank, and you were both able to work through your addiction together. And he had one too, which made it easier to get through it together.

So maybe, you could out drink this fucking hoe. And you felt a devious smirk stretch across your face.

“Daphne, you should leave,” Frank said, trying to get her to leave.

“No, Frank. Let her stay. If she really wants you, she will have to earn it.” you said, grinning.

“Fine,” Daphne said, flipping her hair in your face. “What’s the challenge?”

“Drink off. First to drink three beers gets him. Whoever loses, well, you’ll never be able to come back to the bar again.” you said.

It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Some people oohed and ahhed at your proposal. Frank was raking his fingers through his hair nervously while Daphne bit her lip, deciding whether to accept your challenge.

“Ok, let’s do it. But I don’t think he will be yours for much longer.” Daphne mocked, getting a seat.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes while people gathered around you and her. The bartender grabbed six beer bottles, three for you and three for Daphne.

“Babe, you sure you want to do this?” Frank asked you. You completely ignored him as you opened the beer bottles, preparing to drink them. Daphne did the same thing, and everyone in the room was getting ready for the countdown.

“Three. Two. One. Chug!” the bartender shouted.

The race was on. People in the crowd were cheering for you and Daphne. Frank didn’t say anything, too scared he’d mess up even more than he already did.

You got the first beer down in a flash. You were moving on to the second one, and Daphne was close behind. You took a tiny bit longer on the second one, and that was all it took for your opponent to take the lead. Boos from the crowd that wanted you to win filled the air. In an instant, you were filled with a new energy. You couldn’t bear to lose your boyfriend, no matter how much of an asshole he could be. You loved him. And you had to show that bitch next to you what she was dealing with.

You grabbed the final bottle just moments after her. It was a race to the finish. The adrenaline was fueling your body, not allowing the buzz of the alcohol to interfere. You drank the bottle as if your life depended on it.

And you beat that fucking bitch. You clamored the bottle down on the table, showing your victory. Everyone cheered for you.

“Whatever, keep your boyfriend.” Daphne groaned as she walked out of the bar, following a couple of boos from strangers.

“Yeah Bitch! If you show your face here again, I will fucking beat your ass!” you shouted loud enough to make sure she, and everyone else in the bar knew who they were dealing with.

After a few claps on the back and congrats from others in the bar, you headed out, followed by your boyfriend. You were too pissed to even look at him, or even speak to him. You just wanted to go home and let the alcohol run its course on you. Maybe watch some Netflix and eat some ice cream too.

“Babe!” Frank called after you.

“What Frank?” you asked, exasperated, finally turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t know she would even do that or make a whole scene. When she dragged me off, I tried to go back to you, but I didn’t. And I screwed up. I’m sorry I was being an asshole and ruined your night. Our night.”

“Frank.” you said, not sure of what to say.

“Also, I realised how lucky I am. I never knew you had that in you. Sure I knew you could drink, but I never knew you would do that for me. Just to show your devotion to me. It means a lot. Nobody has ever done anything like that. I’m sorry. Can I please make it up to you? We can just chill at home, and I’ll apologize over and over again till you're happy. Please, just say something.”

You had no clue what to say, so you just bit your lip nervously. You were still pissed at him, but for some reason you were turned on. The fact that he said nobody fought for him like that and showed that they cared about him that much did something to you. And when he said he realised he was lucky to have you made you feel special.

So you just grabbed the collar of his shirt and leaned up to his ear.

“Oh, you have been such a bad boy tonight, and you need to learn your lesson. You need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself.”

#frank endings beginnings #frank x reader #sebastian stan #drabble #fic #love #beer #beerlife

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avellanas-nutty-empire · 4 years

Text

Every day I hate the usa even more than the last

(This is a vent, ignore if u want)

When people were talking about the recent supreme court members death, I thought it would all be fine. I dont know literaly anything about them, and I generally dont understand my own emotions enough to grieve for someone like that.

But I went on instagram

And all the posts made me feel as though I'm being crushed by a mixture of negative emotions I rarely feel like this. Negative emotions so powerful and raw I feel I'm being literally crushed.

I feel as if I'm being literally crushed.

This is especially the worst since I dont understand my own emotions enough to heal from the pain and resolve them and move on from them properly. I'm stuck. These will forever linger, fractions of being healed, ready to crush me another time.

I made a lil angst post thing for Anna of my ABC girls oc's in which she also suffers from the inability to understand her own emotions. But in reality, that's just a fragment reflection of me. Except the details are solidified - a peace of mind I fear I will never have.

Trump is the third president to ever become impeached, and that alone says a fuck ton. He tries to build a wall, that would damage the ecosystem, solve nothing, and waist money. Then he does next to nothing about covid, using China as an escape goat while a ton of other countries handle it all much better than he does. Then the west coast fires get practically ignored. I have a suit case packed just for fucks sake because if theres one thing 2020 taught me, it's that shit can and will get worse REAL fast. I've been living with yellow smokey ash skies for the past few weeks and this morning at 4am, it rained a good rain for the first time long before the fires started. I was excited and happy for it. It even rained recently AGAIN while I was at work. It gave me hope. Hope that has swiftly been crushed.

Even if the fires get solved, the govornment will not. Trump holds his place in office like a tyrant, bragging about fighting for more terms in office than legally possible. Covid is still a thing, no matter how less officials have cranked down on social distancing. Other countries are out there PAYING people to stay inside. But everyone in the states will just complain and shut down that idea because "oh, we dont have the funds for it. The country is in enough debt already" yeah. Why are you building a wall then. Trump has SIGNIFICANTLY raised that debt since he joined office. Why are we letting a man who has his own history or bankruptcy on SEVERAL occasions be president? Our debt should be going down, not up.

The usa likes to preach to high heavens that it's the best country when in fact, its super NOT. And THATS one of the big problems. Much like a racist insisting "I'm not racist, it's just a joke" or something simular, no progress is gonna get made. People just get mad when our poor countries quality gets pointed out and refuse to see the truth. Then they look back over the constitution written over 100 years ago and recite it like the bible for worshiping practice.

We need to rewrite our constitution like MANY other countries have done SEVERAL times, and stop worrying about what a dead person MEANT when PURPOSLY being vague when writing the constitution because it was supposed to be open for change. But nothing about the United states is open for change. This country needs to get off its fucking high horse, and I need to move to canada

Except that's WAY easier said than done. I want to teach high school math, but I'm p sure you need a degree in french to teach ANYWHERE in canada (especially Quebec, but that's on the other side of the country so I think I'm good). I SUCK at learning vocab and had a hard enough time with my 2 years of spanish class. How am I supposed to get a degree in french?

The college I'm attending has study abroad programs I could participate in, and I have considered transferring to a canadian college if mine doesnt become in person soon, but god knows when that's gonna actually become possible again. I want to do in depth research on teaching requirements and scout out schools in canada and talk with my college supervisor and stuff about it all, but theres no point untill covid ends. I would say to just cross that bridge when I come to it, but the land behind me is rapidly disappearing faster than I can aproach the bridge.

Besides, isnt the canadian boarder still closed? What about my job down here? I dont have money to move to canada. And I dont have the confidence to do it because my mom hindered my progress in becoming a fully functioning adult who can leave the house without a backpack full of shit I wont actually need unless I'm roughing it in the wilderness. What college would even accept me and allow me to transfer my current credits anyways?

All I know is the United States of america is a toxic country that is bad for my health, and I am not ok.

#vent for void #avellanahablando #at least writing ahit like this helps a little #i should email my therapist about my writing actually cause it might help more #anyways yeah im being crushed #its fucking great #and thats fucking sarcasm

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blog-sliverofjade · 3 years

Text

Of Doms & Subs 5: Field Trip

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary: What's a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 1896

Of Doms & Subs Master List

“Don’t feel guilty, think of it as a bribe,” Mickayla said when she’d told me we were going shopping and I was to leave my wallet behind. I stared at her. “Think of trying out packs as like dating. This is a date at a fine restaurant with a dozen roses,” she explained. “And just like dates are a way for potential mates to prove they can provide, this is how we prove that we can take care of our members.”

“It sounds more like you’re looking for an excuse to go shopping,” I said dryly. “But you’ll harass me until I give in, so ok.”

“You already know her so well,” Matt said with a hint of a smirk. She elbowed him in the ribs and she only put up a token struggle when he wrapped her up in his arms. I looked away. The whole pack seemed to be much more touchy-feely than I was comfortable with.

“Meh, I’d go for another five minutes, tops, before I pulled the Dommy voice on you.” She tossed her head so that Matt momentarily ended up with a face full of her hair.

“Dommy voice?”

“Dominant and mommy. Dommy,” Matt explained, nuzzling his wife’s hair.

“Oh.” I hid my blush by turning to shrug into my jacket. Don’t ask if you don’t wanna know the answer.

The first stop was Pike Place Market, which was already packed despite the early hour. Matt led the way to plow a path for us through the crowd with Mickayla following him so that all I could see was her curtain of golden hair and perky butt. Shane was on my heels, but not so close that he was breathing down my neck. None of the others had wanted to go shopping, preferring instead to play video games. Some things stay the same no matter the species.

I normally treat shopping like I imagine Navy SEALs treat missions: get in, get target, and get out ASAP. Mickayla obviously did not subscribe to this philosophy. Most of the items we had acquired so far were for her. I was too busy trying to ignore the din and overwhelming aromas invading my senses. My wolf also wanted to snap at every stranger who bumped into us, which thankfully was only once or twice. Most people took one look at my companions and steered a wide berth.

We were climbing a stairway that seemed to narrow even further and the low ceiling felt like it was pressing down on my head. I swayed on the edge of the stair as the wolf surged up, tearing at me, wanting to run from the mass of consumers. Pain rippled along my skin and burst like spikes in my joints until I nearly fell backward until Shane stepped forward until his firm chest allowed me to lean against him. An instant later, Matt and Mickayla flanked me, forcing the flow of shoppers to part around the island that we made.

Normally I didn’t like people touching me. Certainly not people I’d known less than a day and not so close as this. But I relaxed into the warmth and comfort of their bodies. Their combined scent surrounded me like a warm, familiar blanket. No one said anything. They didn’t have to. Their eyes all had the same look of understanding. My whole body felt raw. If I had shifted in the middle of Pike’s Place on Labor Day weekend…

“Reason number four why packs are awesome: dominants can help when you’re about to lose it,” Mickayla said gently, having seen the panic on my face. She slipped her arm through mine in what was becoming a familiar gesture. “Let’s head some place a little quieter.”

The weather was a bit too grey and windy for anyone other than locals and werewolves, so we had the waterfront mostly to ourselves as we sipped hot drinks from the first Starbucks location. The movement helped ease the need to run and calm my wolf. After a while, Mickayla paused to check that a bench was dry before sitting and patting the spot next to her. The men wandered a little way upwind, arguing about the game last night.

“Ok fine, you made your point,” I sighed and sank down next to her. “What was it this time, how long I’d last before going furry?”

“Not on this one,” she shook her head and immediately had to pick strands of hair out of her mouth when the wind caught it. “But that’s not the question you should be asking.”

I thought about that for a minute. “What would’ve happened if ya’ll hadn’t been there.” It was a statement, not a question. She gave it time for the full implications of that sink in.

“You’re not used to having to rely on others. Not since the divorce.” I glared at her out of the corner of my eye. I did not like being psychoanalyzed at the best of times. This was certainly not one.

“Gee, doc, are ya gonna tell me that I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, too?”

“If you’re so self-aware, pup, then why did we have to have this little exercise?” She bumped my shoulder firmly with her own.

“Because you can tell a kid something’s hot, but won’t believe you till they touch it.” I slumped down further on the bench.

“Head of the class,” she saluted me with her coffee.

“Don’t make me bite you” I grumped.

“Talk like that’ll earn you a spot as teacher’s pet,” she winked. I groaned and shook my head at the pun before taking a sip of my drink. It was something fancy, “full of sugar and cream and calories, everything a growing pup needs” as Mickayla had put it when she’d ordered. Having a dominant around to step in and order was pretty nice when I was intimidated by the menu with its foreign terms and still too rattled to think straight.

“Speaking of petting.” Mickayla laughed at the segue. “John said that unmated females belong to the Alpha.” That whole sentence tasted like rotten lemons, which fanned the embers of my dormant anger. “Shit, is that the reason unmated females are second class citizens? So we’re basically whores for the Alpha because we have no other choice? If I won’t fuck Angus then I’m delivered to Eugene with a pretty bow? Montana’s, what, a ‘re-education centre’ if I don’t put out?”

“Montana’s for new wolves, those who can’t control their wolf, and those who need to heal,” she said firmly. “If you don’t want to move here or to Eugene, you can stay in Aspen Creek until you find a place and a pack you do like. As for being second class citizens, it used to be that females couldn’t participate in dominance challenges and gained status through their mate. While that seems to be slowly changing, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t be treated with respect.”

“Since I couldn’t care less about kicking butt and taking responsibility, I don’t have to worry about that, which is why I’m considered submissive in the first place,” I said with dawning comprehension.

“See, Ian was wrong, you can be taught!” Mickayla laughed with a wink.

“But what about the other… thing?”

“Wolves are very possessive,” she said slowly, as if having difficulty translating her thoughts into words. “It’s supposed to be a way to protect the women, sometimes from unwanted attention from their packmates. Some Alphas may take advantage of what’s meant to be a protective role, in much the same way some college professors tend to go after undergrads.”

“Are there many Alphas like that?” I had a gut feeling that Angus was not like that, but then again, mama always said that my “picker” when it came to men was broken.

“Rape is not condoned, but since it’s not been a problem here, that’s something you would have to ask Angus, Matt, or Tom about if you’re thinking of going elsewhere. Here, they have to answer to Angus. If any of them so much as even make you uncomfortable he’ll have their balls in a sling because you don’t have a mate to protect you. They all know that Matt would use their skull as a soup bowl if they so much as looked at me funny.”

Her scent had changed subtly with an almost salty quality that had nothing to do with the sea air. She looked down with amusement at me as I sniffed her arm. “You’re learning how to smell a lie! About the soup bowl anyway, you don’t keep evidence lying around. Good girl,” she said teasingly and petted my hair. I mock growled without meeting her eyes. She tapped my nose with a finger. “Bad pup, no cookie.” I straightened from my slouch with a laugh. “Come on, let’s hit a couple of stores that’ll be quieter than tourist trap central.”

“Do I have to?” I asked tiredly.

“Sweetie,” she slung an arm around my shoulders. “Your pants would be falling off if you didn’t have that belt tightened within an inch of its life. I think you might have even managed to put a pleat or two in it like that, not a good look. You need clothes that fit your new body.” She plucked at my jacket, which tented around me before settling again. I wasn’t necessarily fat before, but I certainly had carried more than a few extra pounds. Two weeks in the backcountry had fixed that. Oh, and becoming a werewolf helped, too. I groaned in defeat and at the thought of more crowds.

Mickayla returned triumphant from the hunt, seemingly having gained the energy that the new wolf appeared to have lost. Ellie quickly fled to her room with several large, bulging shopping bags.

“How went the great experiment?” I asked far more calmly than I felt.

“Took it like a champ, boss,” Shane answered while still untying his boots. “Lasted ninety minutes.”

“I was ready to call it at an hour myself,” muttered Matt. “Shrieking kids.” We all winced in empathy.

“I’m thinking that John was doing his best to keep her isolated,” Mickayla frowned.

“Do you think he wanted her for a mate?” My wolf paced in agitation. He wanted to taste this John’s blood under our fangs.

“Not The Hills Have Eyes, but barefoot and not-pregnant in the kitchen…” she grimaced. I felt my eyes shift to gold then back as I struggled to convince my wolf that there was nothing here for us to rend. “He told her about unmated females being under the protection of the Alpha, and led her to believe that it’s exploitive in nature,” she continued once I calmed.

“I see, thank you, Mickayla.” I turned on my heel and retreated to my office to make a call. Once the door was shut, it was virtually soundproofed against werewolves. It’s good to be the king of tech.

“I’m afraid that I don’t have any news yet, Angus,” Bran said with faint amusement by way of greeting.

“I’m afraid that I do,” I said and conveyed Mickayla’s impressions of the situation.

“And you can’t question her directly without scaring her into running.” I could readily picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Thank you. Keep me apprised.”

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

Dumpling ch. 18

Maevis busied himself for the next hour by returning the books to their proper homes while Barnaby gathered Jae and Nenani over to one side of the table. Under a green cloak, was an old wooden trunk. The wood was worn and dark with age. The metal was unpolished, but strong. With difficulty and a bit of help from Jae, Barnaby lifted away the lid to reveal the treasure inside.

Books. Human sized and bound in black leather.

He ran his finger along the spines of the top layer, scouring the gilded letters.

“A small miracle these survived,” he said. “But I believe the one I want is...ah, yes this one. My boy, would you mind to clear some room here? Those paint pots are dried so no worry about them spilling.”

Jae obediently made room on the small work table as the older man pulled one book out slowly and with great care before placing it open upon the table. He gestured for Nenani to come look. She had a little learning of letters, but had not been very studious and the years of disuse after her parent’s deaths had left her reading comprehension sorely lacking. “I’m not very good with letters.”

“Oh, well we will have to sort that out in the future. But for now, I will read them to you. These pages list the names of men who were all apart of the Thorn Guard. Listed by family. This page here is where the Family Daelg begins. And as you can see...” he flipped through several pages. “...there are many of them. Your forefathers were all in the guard for many many year. One of the oldest serving families. Protecting the King and kin.”

“Papa guarded the King? Really?” She drew up an image of her father in her mind and had no diffuculties reconciling with image. In her eyes, her father had always held all the qualities of a knight from stories he read her. Brave, selfless, and loyal. It warmed her heart to know she had been right, but it fueled her need to know more.

“No, he was not high enough in rank to be so close to the King himself. Your grandfather would have, yes. Often. In fact I do believe that was his last official post. But here, look.”

The archivist ran his finger along bottom of the page. “This your father’s entry. Hayron. Born to Hayier Daelg by his wife Maudre on the fourth of September in ninth year of King Haeral’s rule. Your Uncle, Halden was born little over a year later in the winter.”

There was not much more about her father or uncle in the book and very little revealed itself in the other tomes. But Barnaby was gracious enough to tell her stories her remembered about them when he was still the archivist for Silvaara. However, she was able to get a better picture of her Grandfather, Hayier. As captain of the Thorn guard, his name repeatably popped up throughout the pages.

“They use to call him Old Ironwood, because he was so straight and unyielding,” he told her. “He was a fierce fighter, your grandfather.”

“You should come to open call and see Rheil break in the new recruits,” Jae suggested. “It’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Seeing as she’s got Thorn Guard blood,” Jae grinned at Nenani and poked her with his elbow. “Maybe she’ll pick up a few things.”

Barnaby looked as though he were about to protest, but was cut off by Maevis. “Oh dear. My friends, we may have a problem.”

The three humans looked to see the magician standing near one of the windows with a small stack of books in his arms, one arm still holding one out as he was slipping it into an empty spot on the shelf. He was looking down at something below.

“What’s wrong?” Jae asked.

“Just now, I noticed Hev leave the west side corridor.”

Jae’s face fell. “Oh….oh, that’s bad.”

Nenanmi turned to Jae and asked, “Why is that bad?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair before giving her a sympathetic glance. “Because that means he’s coming back from the kitchens.”

Nenani felt her insides turn as understanding settled in. “Maybe he was just getting a snack?”

Barnaby placed a hand on Nenani’s shoulders. “I am afraid my dear that the proverbial cat, as they say, is out of the bag.”

“So that means...” She trailed off with a groan.

“Yep,” Jae replied. “Farris knows you lost your marker.”

………………………

They had left the library, saying their goodbyes to Maevis and Barnaby, and made the slow trek back through the tunnels towards the kitchens. Jae tried to reassure her that they could still potentially come upon the marker somewhere along the tunnels in a fortuitous turn of luck. Grateful as she was for his continued optimism, she knew without giving it concrete consideration that it would be a fruitless venture. It was gone forever. Plain and simple. And she felt sure that facing Farris was a much better direction to take. How could she ever explain to Jae or to anyone what she had seen? How could she ever find her way back, even if she wanted to prove that she had not been making the whole thing up?

The moment they stepped into the dark, she had expected to hear the voices again, to feel dizzy, or to feel anything beyond the norm. But it was as it had been before. Just a tunnel illuminated by Maevis’s orbs. Nothing strange about it. As they moved along the path, she kept a close eye on the light, worried that any second they were disappear and the heat-less flames would come back, beckoning them both towards the catacombs. But they did not. She decided in that moment that it had never happened and she never needed to waste another thought on what lay deep inside the walls of Vhasshal.

Jae sensed her anxiety and gave her a cheeky smirk.

“If he’s that mad, you could always stay here in the tunnels with me,” he offered. But his grin faded when he received no reply. “It’ll be OK, y’know. I promise. Farris will yell for a while and maybe make you sweep the kitchen by yourself or something like that. Make a tiny broom for you or something.”

“Yeah,” she replied lowly as they rounded the last corner and could see the door to the kitchen. A faint string of light outlining its shape in the dark. “Maybe.”

Drawing nearer, they could hear Farris hollering nearly twenty feet from the door.

“Oh,” Jae said with a frown. “He’s pissed, alright.”

Nenani grimaced and groaned, not looking forwards to what was to come. She hoped she wouldn’t go deaf. As they approached the tunnel door, Farris’s words became that much more audible. “...COULD YA BE THAT STUPID?! ONE SIMPLE THING!”

“Well, old Hev did mention the request came from Keral,” Yale’s voice, much softer and muffled by the stone, replied. His words were barely heard. “Wouldn’t be shocked if he’s also the reason why.”

Jae glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Nenani to stand behind him and then slowly eased the door open a few inches. It was quite heavy, however and despite his best efforts to make a quite and inconspicuous entry, the hinges creaked. A high pitched shriek of old and oil thirsty metal.

“I COULDN’T GIVE A..” Farris’s voice abruptly cut off at the sound and Jae froze, eyes wide and mouth grimacing. They both stood silently behind the ajar door, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps the two giants would continue on speaking and not notice anything. However, when Farris’s voice struck up again, it had lost almost all of its previous volume and was replaced by an irritated snark. “Well? Ya just gonna skulk behind the fucking door or ya what?”

With a resigned groan, Jae pushed the door open the remainder of the way. Hesitantly and with an uneasy smile, he stepped through and onto the mantel’s surface. Nenani was on his heals, pressing herself behind him as if to shield her from the sight of the giants. Farris loomed over the pair, a severe scowl plaster upon his face. One hand was clenched at his side while the other was planted firmly on his him.

“Farris, I can explain-” Jae began, but he was completely ignored and without even allowing him to finish, the giant reached out and slammed the door to the tunnel shut. The same hand then turned to grab up the young man and plucked him from the spot where he stood. “WHOA-hey!”

“Yale!” Farris barked while holding Jae out away from his person, never averting his eyes from Nenani. Behind gritted teeth, he hissed, “Find somewhere more fitin’ fer this one to be that ain’t in m’face.”

Yale started, hastily lowering the crock he has been holding onto the table before moving to Farris’s side with alacrity and reaching out for Jae just as Farris’s fingers released their grip. Jae cried out in alarm as he dropped the three feet before landing in Yale’s outreached palms.

“As ya say, Boss!” Yale replied, giving Jae no time to recover or add his own commentary, and promptly sprinted out the archway and into the courtyard.

“Saen!” Farris barked, his eyes still not wavering from Nenani. On the other side of the kitchen, Saen was elbows deep in flour. Upon hearing his name, the young giant jumped, sending a small plume of flour up into the air.

“Uh, yeah?” He asked tentatively.

“Leave it be fer th’moment and go see Bart.”

“Aye, will do.” Same as Yale, Saen quickly made his exit through the archway, leaving Farris and Nenani alone. In that moment of silence, she was reminded of just how imposing a figure Farris was and being the focus of his ire was truly a terrifying experience. It was not wholly dissimilar to their first meeting and though she was absolute in her confidence he would not harm her, she could help but shrink away.

“Don’t suppose ya have some shit of a’reason fer not having yer marker, eh?” he began sternly. His voice strained as he struggled to maintain his tone. He waved a hand at her before crossing both arms and staring at her expectantly. “Well then, let’s have it.”

Her tongue felt twice its normal size and all she managed was a few false starts and stutters.

“Yer gonna just gap at me like a fucking lipper or is that all ya got?”

“N-no...” she managed to mumble out quietly.

“Gonna have t’be doin’ better than that, Dumplin,” said the spice master. He opened one palm to reveal a small scrap of leather at the end of which dangled a piece of struck metal. Her new maker. “You remember at all why these are important?”

“So...so other Vhasshalans leave me alone,” she replied, swallowing thickly against the growing tightness in her throat.

“NO!” Farris roared. “ITS SO THEY DONT FUCKIN’ EAT YA!”

Nenani jumped, stumbling back until her shoulders hit the wall and she stared wide eyed up at the giant. Hot tears fell rolled down her cheeks. Farris was red in the face and snarling, his anger open and on show. It was too hard to meet his gaze and she averted her eyes to stare at her feet.

“Thrist aint’ th’only fucker that would try t’gut n’ roast ya if he thought he could get away with it. Are ya soft in the brain t’ave forgotten that?”

“No, I-I just...I’m sorry...” Nenani whimpered.

“And ya’d be even sorrier if...”

“Farris,” said a voice from the archway, cutting his words short. Farris turned to glance over his shoulder, giving Nenani a clear view of the doorway. Captain Rheil, dressed in his red boiled leather armor stood under the entryway, and wearing a somber and serious expression. “Forgive my interruption, but I need to speak with you.”

“Can’t ya see I’m busy?” Farris growled in annoyance, but the gray haired giant’s steel gaze never wavered.

“Believe me, you will want to make time for this,” he replied. “This matter concerns the humans.”

Farris turned fully face Rheil, head tilted in interest. “Alright, on with ya then. What other trouble have these wee brats managed?”

“Nothing like that,” the captain replied, taking Farris’s affirmative response as invitation to enter, and he stepped into the kitchen proper. “This matter involves all the humans on castle grounds, I am afriad. There have been several troubling reports.”

“Reports? What reports?”

“You’re familiar with Queen Rosanna’s personal guard, Creag, correct?” Rheil asked. When Farris grunted an affirmation, he continued. “I’ve also been fielding complaints about him since the Ibronian procession arrived last month. Harassing wait staff and some of my men for the most part, but he has also made several threats against both Sawyer and Connar. There has been a sharp uptake in his behavior and the Ibronian has been outright violent since the wedding, but today both Maevis and Keral came to me about him explicitly trying to kill Jae near the Royal apartments. Your ward was reportedly with him at the time of the incident.”

Though she could not see his face, Nenani watched the muscles of Faris’s back pull taught and his fits ball up.

“That fish nosed fuck tried t’murder two children right under the King nose?” Farris’s demanded. It was a tone Nenani had not heard him use and it felt much more dangerous than his normal level of anger. A deep, guttural growl with real vehemence behind it. He fixed the captain with a razor edged glare. “Rheil, yer lot better be doin’ somethin’ ‘bout this fucker. ‘Cause I can’t be promisin’ ya that me and my boys won’t.”

The captain seemed to have anticipated this reaction and held up a placating hand. “My men are escorting him to an audience with the King as we speak and I have plenty of witnesses to attest to the event. My main mission in coming to you was to let you know to keep a short leash on the lil’un for a while. Keep her down here and out of sight while things are taken care of upstairs.”

“Aye.”

“And since the brat’s already down here as well, that makes my task all the simpler. The King requests the same of Jae. Don’t allow him to squirrel away some place of his own choosing. The King has ordered him to remain down here and under your supervision until his Majesty comes to collect him in person.”

Farris cursed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Gods piss on it all. It’s fuckin’ Baynor all over again.”

“Luckily for us, the Ibronian does not posses nearly the political currency as my predecessor,” Rheil replied. “However, the Queen has an ample supply and my observations have been that she is heavily reliant on him.”

“Ya expectin’ any trouble?”

“No,” Rheil replied. “Nothing so bad as when Baynor was ousted. But I would rather be prepared in any case and his Majesty was very clear. Jae is to remain here.”

For a long moment, no one said anything and Nenani wondered if she had been forgotten entirely.

“Aye,” Farris said finally and nodded. “They’ll be watched well and good.”

Rheil hummed in approval and tilted his head to the side to look passed Farris to fix Nenani with a warm smile. “Haven’t see ya in a good long while, lass. Hope that walking boulder didn’t hurt ya none.”

Nenani shook her head. “No. He wasn’t really going after me.”

“So I’ve been told,” Rheil said. “Jae does seemed to have been th’ main target, but I have no doubt he’d have just as well treated ya to the same had he caught ya. Keral mentioned he found ya wanderin’ ‘round by yerself. Lost in the halls without yer marker.”

There was a teasing nature to Rheil’s words.

“S’that how ya lost it then, eh?” Farris asked, pinning her with one green eye.

She shrugged meekly. “I don’t remember it falling off. I had it and then I didn’t. I was running a lot.”

Farris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to her and walking up to the mantel. He held her new marker aloft between two fingers and as she reached out to take it, he told her firmly, “Best be learnin’ to take better care of it, Dumplin’. ‘Cause if yer ever needin’ another anytime in the next ten years, I’ll be tying one end of a short lead to ya and th’ other to a lipper barrel and ya can live in the yard.”

She stared and then nodded fervently before quickly clipped the leather around her neck. The metal was almost hot from being clenched in Farris’s fist for so long, but there was a measure of comfort with the now familiar weight being back along her collar bone. She peeked up at the kitchen master, cautiously optimistic.

“So...does this mean I’m not in trouble anymore?”

#g/t writing #dumpling #Giant/tiny #Fantasy Story #Nenani #Jae #Barnaby #Maevis #Kera #giants #humans #Vhasshal #Rheil

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melaninmarvelgirl62 · 5 years

Text

Overworked

Erik Killmonger x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, A Hint of Smut

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted in a while because life has been kicking my ass. This is the first fic that I have actually had the energy to finish and I really hope you guys enjoy it. As always please like, comment, and reblog.

You were pulled from your sleep by a dip in the bed and a low sigh. You cracked your eyes open slowly, blinking a few times, before the world to faded into view. 12:47 AM, the clock on your bedside table read. Gently rubbing your eyes, you sit up, shifting your vision in search of the subject of your disturbance. You find him, illuminated by the brilliant screen of the muted television you’d fallen asleep on, with a towel around his waist, and a few stray water droplets dripping down his back. He sat, slouched over, on the edge of the bed with his head hung low. Exhausted. He was exhausted... and you hated it. You hated how he’d overwork himself, but you knew how much he loved his work. You got how important his work was and you see how happy it makes him, you simply wished it didn’t take such a toll.

You flipped back the covers, ignoring the shiver that ran through your body as the cold air hit your t-shirt clad body, and crawled over to him. You press your chest to his back and wrap your arms around his torso. Placing a soft kiss in the crook of his neck, before burying your face there and inhaling deeply, appreciating his fresh scent. Erik let out a soft sigh as his body instantly relaxed into your embrace. He lifted his head and rested it against yours. His hands joined yours where they rested on his stomach. Neither of you said anything, instead you savored the feeling of simply existing with one another. Thoroughly enjoying the luxury of comfortable silence while you breathed each other in. “Hi”, you say breaking the silence. He chuckles lightly, as he pulls his head back to gaze at you with soft eyes, a small smile decorating his face. “Hey, baby girl.” He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” You smile softly, ignoring the tiredness behind his eyes, and place your chin on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”, you dismiss with a small yawn. “How was your day?” You place a kiss on his shoulder before settling yourself more firmly behind him. Pulling your hands from his grasp you begin to gently massage his shoulders. His head fell back onto your chest, and he let out a deep groan, As he relaxed against you once more. “Long. How was yours?” “It was alright. Just another day of your big headed kids driving me insane.” Hushed laughter filled the room as the two of you laugh wholeheartedly, while you worked a particularly tight knot out of his right shoulder. You could only imagine the tension in his back. “Speaking of which, they really missed you at dinner.” “I missed them too.”, he sighed out when the tension in his shoulder was relieved. “Did mommy miss daddy?” His voice drops a few octaves and you let out a small laugh. “Mommy’s used to it.” The words fell out of your mouth, like vomit, before you could stop them. You hoped he would be too tired to notice the slight change in your tone, but you knew better. Even when Erik was exhausted he still managed to notice the littlest things. The air in the room shifted as his body stiffened under your hands. He sat up straight and turned to look at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Doing your best to avoid his eyes, you take a deep breath before bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. You shake your head softly, “It didn’t mean anything.” Erik brought his hand up to your chin and lifted your head in attempts to get you to look at him. Instead, you moved off of the bed, trying feebly to put some distance between you. You didn’t get very far before his arms were around you, pulling you back to him. He turned you to face him and settled you between his legs. Trapping you there with his hands on your hips, “Look at me.”, he commands, gently. You comply, your eyes peering down into his. “Talk to me, baby.” “You work too much.” Erik sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “Y/N—“ “I know, okay?”, you cut him off. “The work you do is so important... and even more importantly, I know it means the world to you. It’s why I didn’t wanna say anything, but that was before you started getting home after midnight. Now, I’m just worried that you’re working yourself too hard.” Erik looks up at you, his tired eyes soft but attentive, as your words sink in. “I mean look at you, Erik. Baby, you’re exhausted.” You bring your hands up, allowing your thumbs to gently caress the bags under his eyes, before resting them on the sides of his face. “And I realize that I probably sound a bit selfish, because of all the good you do. But honestly, at this point, I’m really like ‘fuck that shit’.” A low chuckle erupts from from Erik and you smile a little. “I’m serious, E. Our children miss their father, who has not been home to kiss them goodnight in a little over a week now. Which makes it considerably more difficult to put them to bed at night. I miss my husband, who has not properly dicked me down in 16 days. Yes, I’m keeping count. And on top off all that... I’m terrified that you’re going to burn yourself out. I just think you need a break. That’s all.” A finish your monologue, feeling lighter than you have in a while. Erik looks up at you with an adoring smile on his face, before pulling you into his lap. “I love you. You know that, right?” You drape your arms around his neck and roll your eyes, granting him a soft ‘mhmm’ in response, wanting to see where he was going with this. He puts his hand to his chest, clutching his imaginary pearls. “That’s all I get. You not gon’ say it back.” “I’ll say it back as soon as you tell me you’re taking time off” He sighs.“I’ll take time off, I promise... Just not right now.” Erik watches guiltily as your face falls. “Maybe in a month or so when this new program is up and running.”, he adds, trying to soften the blow. You take a deep breath, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Ok.”, you say simply, voice wavering slightly with disappointment. There’s no reason to be disappointed this is exactly what you expected. You make a move to remove yourself from his lap but he tightens his arms around you. “Where you goin’?” “Bed.”, you answer, tiredly, expecting his arms to loosen around you. Instead, he buries his face in your neck and inhales deeply. “Whatever happened to ‘We don’t go to bed angry’.” You can’t help the small smile that plays on your lips as he weaponizes your words against you. His arms loosen a bit as you pull your arms free and wrap them around his neck. “I promise, I’m not angry.”, you say, and he lifts an eyebrow, giving you a look that said he didn’t believe you. You sigh. “I’m a little disappointed and extremely tired, but I’m not angry.” Erik presses a sweet kiss to your cheek. “I’ll make you a promise. When things settle at work, you, me, and the kids will go away for a while. Just the five of us. Deal?” “Where are we gonna go?” “Anywhere you want.” A vacation. Your mind instantly transports you someplace warm and sunny. Where your children can play until their hearts’ are content without doing any damage to your property. Not to mention that fact that you’d get to spend some quality time with your husband. Sounds like heaven “Alright, Stevens. You’ve got yourself a deal.”,you agree, before trying, once more to remove yourself from his lap. You whine out an exasperated ‘nigga let me go’, when his arms don’t budge. He met the annoyed look on your face with a goofy grin and a sharp smack to your ass. You rolled your eyes. Annoying ass nigga. “Tell me you love me and gimme a kiss.”, he ordered. You couldn’t resist the wide grin that spread across your face as you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips after a hushed ‘I love you’ fell from them. “See that wasn’t so hard.” He slaps your ass again before dropping his arms to his sides. You kiss your teeth and mush the side of his head, calling him stupid and making your way to the correct side of the bed. You watch his shoulders shake with laughter as you tuck yourself beneath the covers. It continues as he gets up from the bed and makes his way towards his closet, disappearing inside. You turn on your side and close your eyes, willing sleep to find its way back to you. There’s a slight dip in the bed and a heavy sigh signifying Erik’s return. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you towards him. With your back to his chest he places a kiss to the top of your head. “Baby?”, he calls out, softly. You let out a quiet ‘hmm’ letting him know he had your attention. “Has it really been 16 days?” You giggle at the disbelieving tone he’d taken and turned on your back to look at him. “It’s after midnight, so technically it’s been 17 days.” You trail kisses up his neck starting at the base of his throat. He hums appreciatively as you place the final kiss on his lips before settling yourself back on your pillows. He looks down at you with a slight frown on his face. “I been neglecting’ you n’ shit.” It wasn’t a question but you responded with a lively ‘mhmm’ anyway. He kissed his teeth and smiled down at you. “My bad, ma.” You look down the where his arm was laid over your stomach and begin tracing lines between his scars. “It’s okay.” “No it’s not.” You bring your eyes up to meet his and smile softly. He leans down and brushes his soft lips against yours before capturing them in a gentle kiss. You sighed softly, your eyes fluttering closed, as your lips work in tandem with his. He slides his tongue into your mouth and you both moan unabashedly, relishing the feeling. Your heart beat heavily in your chest at the distinct ache you felt between your thighs, along with a familiar wetness. He spread your legs, trapping your right leg underneath him. Pushing your T-shirt up your body, he exposes your bare torso. He greedily swallows every whine that slips past your lips as he twists and tugs at your sensitive nipples. Dragging his hands down your body, squeezing and caressing every curve he could, before settling at the apex of your thighs. You groan into each other as he slowly sinks two thick fingers into you. With his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, he begins to work you. His skilled fingers massaged your g-spot with a finesse that had you lost in your own pleasure before you even realized it. Your back arched from the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets as you drowned in ecstasy. You felt the coil in your belly tighten as you neared your peak... until soft cries begin emitting from the baby monitor. You detach your lips from Erik, who urges you to ignore it, claiming that he’d settle himself back to sleep. He smiles ruefully when the sounds cease.. only to return seconds later with a vengeance. Kissing his teeth, he begrudgingly removes his fingers from you, and rolls over on his back. You get up from the bed and smooth your shirt over your body. You lean down and place a kiss on your husband’s forehead. Finding your robe, you secure it around you and make your way out of the room. “Welcome home, Daddy.”, you laugh.

A/N: There will probably be about 2 more parts to this if you guys like it. Just say so if you want them and thanks for reading!!!

#black panther fanfiction #Erik Killmonger #erik killmonger smut #black reader #erik killmonger x black reader #black panther fic #black panther smut

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umbillicalnoose · 5 years

Note

i think that you would think im pretty and would like my poetry and i want to share it with you. im shy.

to be honest, im very apathetic these days. im not the nice “cutesy baby flower petal boy” i used to be. a lot has happened & im bitter & sullen & all in all, a pretty shitty friend/person to know. i used to possess some redeeming qualities, believe it or not, even if they were construed by the subconscious in an attempt to be likeable - a facade, even tho its only a facade, is still tangible, still there, is still something, even if not authentic. is poorer character forgivable in the name of presenting more authentically? but nah. that makes it sound like im putting effort into being a better person, which im not. im just sort of fried & done. its been a very long time since i played the role i built for myself on here of the “small fawn boy who wants to help girls” lmaooo. how embarrassing. altho, i was just a kid, & i guess, if you had a tumblr as a teenager, you went thru some cringe (i know the use of that word has fallen in on itself & adopted its own definition but for lack of a better one) ass phases, whether it was kinning or malingering mental illness or oh fucking christ, all that gender bullshit, etc etc. from what ive observed, tho, loosely following kids im still casually friends with that i met on here, i think we’ve all managed to Grow The Fuck Up, at least a little. most of us have jobs or r in school or have partners - growing up & moving on is a very surreal experience to watch/go thru. im moving at my own pace & ive accepted that - im still currently using & starving myself & concocting a suicide plan every day but at least i use clean needles as much as possible, i actively & honestly do strive for the bare minimum calorically, & um able to work with the mentality of “well ill have this when i need it but todays not that day” a lot more readily, in relation to suicide shit. ive finally found a therapist who Really Gets It, is a frontrunner internationally on ritual & extreme abuse & mind control. its pretty incredible what a few years with a good therapist can do. anyways. im sorry, i know you didnt ask for all this & im not even sure why i divulged. i guess, what tipped me off, was your attempt at sounsing “cute” - dude, cut that shit out, i promise youll be a lot better off. & i know everyone interchanges aspects of their personality based on who theyre talking to/who they percieve themselves to be talking to, but i feel like not a lot of people give enough credence to the internet & its hand in shaping/molding young people, kids, vulnerable dumbasses, especially tumblr (tho, i get that its a relatively new phenomenon) - u get a bunch of the “weird”, “alternative”, ““ostracized” kids together on a website, of course its gonna nurture a culture of hypervalidatoon & pretending to be sick in order to fit in to the point that its not an act anymore & exacerbation of symptoms & basically, just sucking each others dicks, sitting in ur own shit, & never ending coddling. & then, you have the older group of kids, who have played this game before but instead of helping or ignoring the Dumbshit kids, they indulge their own normally-buried-but-unleashed-by-internet-anonymity sadism/human instinct to just be fucking dicks & so now you have this vicious cycle of anger & hatred & fucking melodrama up the urethra. im sorry, i know im comig off as/am being harsh but god fuckin dammit yknow? also, this isnt directed at you, specifically, more of a generalized thing, @ myself included. so uh. i mean, if u still wanna share it with me after reading all this, id be happy to read ur poetry. i used to be over the top nice & then reverted to Major Asshole & am now trying to find that sweet middle spot - honoring & allowing myself to share my pain without putting it on others. which is really hard!! cuz becoming a Dick was difficult in that it forced me to be more honest with my true self & as such, more vulnerable - now in trying to become Kinda Nice again because despite being a pulsating scrotom, ive had the intense desire for friendship & human interaction, while simultaneously doing things that i was consciously aware was pushing others away - but then, if i pretend to be nice, where does that authenticity i worked for & was so scared of go? & i dont mean telling someone their new haircut looks nice even when it doesnt - thats just not being a dick. but i guess, those r the normal trials & tribulations of any relationship & adolescent developing identity. which is weird too - dealing with “normal” issues, i mean. whats the point if your life/limbs/breaking point arent at risk? whats the point when your best friends already dead. im sick of people calling "survivors” (despise that word, so fucking female-originated & overdramatic) “brave” & “strong” - surviving is not brave or strong. its just survival. you wouldnt call an animal brave for running for its life from a predator but you would call a dog courageous for going into a burning building to save its owner. premeditated action on the notion that you are probably going to be hurt is brave. being subjected to pain with no choice is not. theres no “silver lining” or anything “good” to be drawn from it either - sure it may have made x a more compassionate person or made y more introspective & gentle but you know what would have been even fucking better??? if the shit hadnt happened in the first place! let x be an asshole & y be self absorbed - the “benefits”, so to speak, do not outweigh the cost, not by a long fucking shot. its not only patronizing to hear garbage like that, but a slap in the face to know that anyone could possibly see anything good coming from that nightmare & that the characteristics, good or bad, you developed either in response to or as a result of, are worth praise. dont tell me im strong for doing what i had to to escape a torture chamber - tell me im perseverant for studying my ass off & passing that test last week. in the words of one of my dearest & most fucking brilliant friends, “pain doesnt owe me/you purpose - the need to intellectualize & assign meaning to pain & death is not only futile, but harmful.” & honestly, i think that it stems from weakness (in most cases - i realize theres a plethora of other reasons such as those who r just desperate for something to hold on to or r hyperintellectual & analytical or who have been pressured by external “support” systems to find the “good” etc etc) - while the majority of people view the person who “can find the good in everything” (strictly speaking only in relation to trauma/tragedy here & more in denunciation of those that celebrate this trait as opposed to vilifying “survivors” who respond this way, though in my experience, its very very very rarely the “survivor” that perpetrates this ideology ) as strong, i sort of see it as a weakness - their inability to sit with & absorb their own pain or that of others is so strong that not only do they have to frantically pull rainbows out of the teeth of a meat cleaver, they also have to exist within this strange (tho, not malicious - more subconscious) superiority complex. like, nah, dude, some times shit is just awful. you cant tell me anything fucking good came out of a four year old girl being kidnapped, gangraped, & tortured for two years, before being impaled & left to die on a stake. her mom opened a non profit organization? oh well thank fucking god for that!!! those that believe the latter to be more “enlightened” or whatever the fuck r the same people who say shit like “dying is easy - living is harder” & i get that that its supposed to be interpreted metaphorically for the most part - giving up is easy, trying isnt (which also.....isnt true??? admitting defeat & fully accepting the fact that ur fucking helpless is beyond hard lmao???) - but pretend youre somewhere, anywhere outside ur sunny little fucking yoga studio full of white women whos biggest issues r the pta & johnny whos failing math, & lets say your life is in real, imminent danger, a gun is to your head & i want you to not scream or cry or beg for ur life since dying is “easier”. if dying is so easy, why do the majority of ppl cling to it with such desperation - why is suicide illegal? why do some ppl go thru 100s of chemo treatments even tho the doctors say theyre just prolonging the inevitable, ppl who cut off a diseased arm so it wont spread, those who walk dozens of miles every day for food & water, etc? & i know & understand the survival instinct better than anyone, even when i wanted to die more than anything, my natural instincts would kick in with no conscious neural input & id do what i had to do. im not condemning those who cling to life (ok - a little. ur wasting resources out of ur own fear. but i also realize thats just me being a Fucking Asshole As Always cuz technically, im doing the same thing tho its more due to lack of opportunity rather than fear. i just think, societally, death should be more normalized, discussed, & not made out to be so unknown & scary), instead just reprimanding those who say shit like that (inspirational facebook quotes). especially cuz most of the ppl who do spew that shit have never gone thru anything even remotely difficult - their worst nightmare is a Big Scary Black Man grabbing them on the street, mugging them, & touching their tits. & i also know that these stupid ass sayings are to be applied to bullshit like exercise & fitness (“no pain no gain” is another one of my Favorites) & not fucking torture or even just ur run of the mill rape, even that would probably smash the rose tinted banana republic shades off their beverly hills tanned faces. but ive heard the no pain no gain one a handful of times in the last few weeks, specifically from doctors performing procedures in preparation for my bottom surgery. & i know its supposed to be encouraging & they have no way of knowing, but its just like, buddy, u have no idea who youre fucking talking to. & im starting to understand what THEY mean when they say it - pain with a reward is infinitely more tolerable than pain just for the sake of pain; like, a tattoo, it hurts, but u know, when its done, its gonna be sick as fuck. when u r able to fall back on the idea that its for something u rlly want, its A Lot easier to handle as opposed to pain thats Just Pain - theres no reward for it except, i guess, that the more u experience it, the closer u r to the end of it lmao. i mean, i still hate when ppl say it cuz for most of my life, pain was just pain, & the “reward” was the opportunity to go home at the end & so whenever ppl say that, my mind just immediately resorts back to that & im just like haha fuck u. but im trying to remember my experiences r definitely not universal & im starting to sorta understand what they mean i think. but, flipping gears here, & going back to the sentiment of “everything happens for a reason”, the base philosophy of psuedo deep Fuckwads - a girls dad didnt fuck her “for a reason”, everything doesnt happen “for a reason”. like ok, hypothetically, the kid he impregnated her with & that she was forced to have at 12 may surpass all odds & not become a homeless junkie & instead become a world renowned doctor who finds the cure for cancer. but she wasnt raped repeatedly from the age of six for that “reason”, no matter what anyone says & honestly, the liberation of the masses does not justify the suffering of one, especially a child. in my eyes at least. but again, im a bitter asshole. sorry i just Went The Fuck Off here oh my god.....if u read all this, thanks, pal. if not, thats cool too. but yea, send me ur stuff, id totally be down to read it. as for me potentially thinking ur cute, i have to look at my disgusting shitstain of a “face” every goddamn day so everyone else to me is fuckin aphrodite. but im also tryin to not put so much worth into physical appearance- its not something that should be complimented cuz its just smth a person was born with which is the same reason it shouldnt be insulted. this is gonna sound gay & stupid but i personally find that a persons essence & personality really permeates. you can meet someone who, objectively, isnt all that great looking, but once u get to know them, u really see their beauty - how the sun catches in their hair, their dilated pupils looking up at u from under long eyelashes in the dark, the birthmark on their right shoulder that they despise but that is so Them, the gap in their teeth, etc. & idk how to phrase this without it sounding like “well ur ugly but at least ur a good person”, cuz that only reiterates the societally indoctrinated emphasis on appearance & my kneejerk reaction to assure the person in question that thats not what im saying is only another result of that!!! its inescapable!!! but no, really, its not just a matter of “its on the inside that counts” - physically, they change or maybe, actually this is more likely, when i first meet them, my “default” eyes r just looking for features that i know im immediately attracted to (tall, blonde, sickly as in sunken eyes sticklike pale but still looks like she could & will beat the shit out of me) but as i fall in love or get to know them better, my eyes adjust & i notice & adore the beauty that was there all along. so uh. idk if ill think ur “cute”. but probably, yes, ill think ur an angel.

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katie-dub · 6 years

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The Devil's Doorbell

A while back @winterbythesea shared a post with this amazing description of the clitoris: “That's the devil's doorbell and if you keep pressing it, soon enough he will answer.” So Svenja shouted fic prompt, as is her wont, and came up with this:

Emma wanders into the path of a weird curse or eats something she shouldn't or picks up an artefact she wasn't supposed to touch (Regina did warn her!) and suddenly every time she settles in to, ahem, ring the devil's doorbell... he answers.

So I wrote the thing and am sharing it now for @cscocktoberfest - I hope I’ve done you proud Svenja. This is more banter and innuendo with a sprinkle of smut, but I hope you all like it. (And I’ve got another Cocktoberfest fic to come next Wednesday!)

Thanks @initiala for organising this event, which gave me the nerve to actually post this. Cheers for reading this over for me @mahstatins and danke schön @distant-rose and @welllpthisishappening for chanting “post it!” at me ;)

Emma Swan was having a day. Or maybe a week. Possibly even a lifetime. It was one thing to discover after 28 years that she wasn't actually an orphan but a bona fide witch from outstanding magical pedigree, it was quite another to find herself expected to do something about it and take flipping magic lessons. Especially when her teacher was her sassy step grandmother who expected nothing less than total dedication at all times. Only today she had found her mind and her hands wandering resulting in such a sharp reprimand that she was almost glad that her entire family had been separated from her by a curse for her entire formative years.

(And, OK, maybe it was better not to touch strange magical artifacts that she had no knowledge or understanding of, but surely Regina didn't have anything actually dangerous in that vault of hers.. Right?)

Still though, the incident had left her feeling frustrated and full of pent-up nervous energy that she desperately needed to relieve. And what better way than with a little TLC?

She ran a deep bubble bath, downloaded the utterly ridiculous sounding trashy romance Manaconda to her kindle (figuring that if the erotica was subpar, it should at least be good for a laugh), and poured a glass of wine. She sank into the deliciously hot water and settled in for a night of fun.

It quickly became apparent that Manaconda, while hilarious, just wasn't going to do it for her. So she set her kindle to one side and closed her eyes, dreaming up a tall, dark and handsome man to help inspire her as her hands drifted down, stroking and teasing just as her fantasy partner did, before she moved to touch that one special spot...

“Well, well, well what do we have here?” Her eyes flew open and her hands shot away from her clit like she'd been burnt. She sloshed water out of the bath as she yelped, “holy shit!”

The intruder chuckled. “There's nothing holy about me, let me assure you.” She turned to look at him - god, he looked like her erotic fantasy come to life with his chiseled, stubble-covered jaw, lean but toned physique and perfectly mussed dark hair. He even had a perfect sultry voice with a British accent that really worked for her. Did her magical powers extend to wish fulfilment? Her cheeked burned at the thought. “Now why did you summon me - did you need a hand? Or perhaps there's another body part you'd prefer?”

She gaped at him. The man in her dreams was a lot less, well, annoying. “What the fuck?”

“Or do you simply need someone devilishly handsome to add a little spice to your fantasies?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she felt inexplicably pissed. How dare her fantasy lover come to life and damn well mock her? She'd heard of kink shaming, but this was ridiculous, could you even be shamed by your own subconscious? She briefly considered Regina's face if she were to ask. Yeah, that was not going to happen.

She sighed deeply, totally exasperated by this experience. “Get out before I do something that you'll regret.”

(He was a manifestation of her deepest desires and she figured that meant she could justifiably murder him if he pissed her off too much.)

He gave a short bow, said, “as you wish,” and disappeared.

Emma wondered if she could discreetly find a book on magical mishaps before the next time she needed to show herself some love.

As it turned out she didn't have time to look up her particular problem before she felt the urge to touch herself again. All the day after she first saw her dreams come true (and honestly she never thought she'd think that was a bad thing) she felt on edge and needy.

So that night she went straight home after her magic lesson, stripped off her jeans and jumped into bed. There was no need for teasing or delicacy tonight, she was already wet and wanting. She stroked her fingers through the wetness and circled her clit. She groaned in blessed relief.

“Oh it's you again, Swan.”

Despite her embarrassment at her fantasy lover once again appearing when she had her hands in her panties, Emma was deeply puzzled by this. “You again?” she repeated, “you know, I'd have thought a physical manifestation of my desires would sound a bit more pleased to see me.”

“Is that what you think I am?” Her fantasy was positively smirking at her. It was infuriating.

“Yes, of course that's what you are,” she huffed, more than a little annoyed at the need to argue with her own subconscious. “It's like you stepped straight out of my brain. All the details are perfect. Except you're far less chatty in my fantasies - you focus on winding me up in the good way.”

He laughed at that - actually fucking laughed out loud. “I'm no fantasy darling, I'm a demon. I can understand the confusion, it must be hard to believe anyone this devilishly handsome could be real.” She narrowed her eyes at him, surely no one this maddeningly arrogant could be real? And yet, he was living and smirking in her bedroom. “But here I am, answering your summons, the name's Killian, feel free to scream it out when you get back to business.”

She reluctantly pulled her hand from her panties and finally sat up so that she could glare at him. “I didn't summon you.”

“Oh but you did, probably subconsciously from the sound of it. Do you have magic?”

She shrugged. “Um, yeah, I'm a witch or something.”

He nodded sagely. “That'll be it then, powerful witches don't require complicated rituals to call upon demons in their hour of need. So,” his voice dropped to a sultry murmur and he stepped closer to her, “what do you need from me?” He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

She pretended that it did nothing for her, even as she felt the need to press her legs together to dampen her desire. If anything, that made it worse. “I need you to get out.”

He quirked his head at her in disbelief, but nevertheless he said, “as you wish.” He vanished and Emma’s eyes closed. She deliberately focused on reliving a particularly excellent time with her ex Graham as her fingers got back to work.

“Ah. This is unfortunate. It seems you'll have to stop touching yourself if you want me to leave for good, Swan.”

Her eyes flew open at the sound of the British accent and she took in the unwelcome - and all too familiar - sight of Killian. “Why are you back?”

His eyebrows arched in amusement. “Well it would seem every time you - what do you Americans say - rub one out it summons me and I'm powerless to refuse the call. Now, how do you want me?”

“I don't!” she gasped, annoyed by the breathy quality to her voice. She tried to push herself upright, but her hand slipped and she ended up resting on her elbows awkwardly.

“I have strong evidence to the contrary. I can watch you if that's what you're into? Whisper sinful words into your ear? Provide manual assistance?”

Oh fuck a little hands on assistance would be incredible. She ignored the thought and hoped her body didn't betray its obvious delight at the idea. She feigned indifference instead. “Do you ever shut up?”

“I do find it's hard to talk when my tongue is engaged in more pleasurable activities.” His tone was matter of fact but the way he licked his lips and the look in his eyes was pure sin.

“Can you just leave?”

“And leave you wanting? That would be very bad form.”

“Yeah, I'm not in the mood anymore.”

“Shame. I'll see you next time, don't be shy about ringing the devil's doorbell if you feel the urge.”

“Did you just call my ...” Emma trailed off, lost for words in her disbelief.

“Well I answer every time you press it, seems fitting, don't you think?”

Emma's nose crinkled in disgust. “Just go.” It was going to be a long time before she even considered touching herself again. (Even if she did need a cold shower to help wash away the buzz of arousal and the tingle of disappointment.)

The next day she was feeling more than a little desperate. She tried not to give into the urge to fuck herself stupid but it was starting to almost hurt. She couldn't quite believe that there were people who were actually into this whole orgasm denial thing.

She didn't even make it to her bedroom this time. She just stuck her hand down her pants the second her front door closed behind her. Her fingers touched her clit and for a brief second she it was sheer bliss.

"You rang?" Killian was leaning against her kitchen counter smirking at her with undisguised glee.

She hastily pulled her hand from her pants. "I did not"

"Oh, darling, you know I'm bound to come when you do." He sauntered over to her, moving in close and biting his lip with undisguised want.

She gritted her teeth. "Well, you're early."

"I do apologise. Bad form, that. It's not usually problem for me.”

“Is there really no way to stop this?” she whimpered.

He stepped back, his seductive demeanour gone and scratched behind his ear thoughtfully. "It's not an affliction I've encountered before. Perhaps you need to find other methods of loving yourself - there's a number of toys you can purchase?" His face was a picture of false innocence. She wanted to smack the look right off his face. Or maybe kiss it off. Or perhaps she could just sit on his face… but no, her thoughts were not going there.

"Shut up."

"No? Well how about less sexual methods? There's meditation, manicures, massage - avoiding the obvious erogenous zone, of course."

He thought he was so cute and it drove her mad. "Bite me."

"If you insist.”

“That wasn't an invitation!” Even though her whole body screamed at her that it really, really should be.

“Are you sure? I'd make it so good for you.”

“And you've just killed my buzz.”

“I don't believe that for a second.” His eyes swept across her body, no doubt her dilated pupils, full-body blush and stubbornly heaving bosom betrayed her lie.

Traitor, she hissed at her own body in her head, before fixing him with a bright grin. “I'm all good thanks. Begone demon!” He raised one eyebrow in amusement, but vanished, leaving Emma to once again climb into a cold shower.

The next day she'd reached her limit. At the point where she seriously considered using a comfort break in her lessons to escape to the bathroom and make herself come she knew that she had to give into whatever weird curse she was under. She told Regina that she wasn't feeling well and wasn't surprised that she immediately suggested that she go home. She probably looked half crazed and she was damn sure it wasn't just her loins that were on fire, or whatever that stupid cliché was.

“Well hello.”

She was expecting him when she touched herself this time and she knew what she needed to do. “Turn around.”

“Pardon?” He looked genuinely affronted.

God, she didn't want to have to explain this. “I'm desperate, but that doesn't mean that I want you here, so just turn around and don't listen.”

He frowned at her. “It seems a shame to deny yourself the pleasure of my company.”

“And don't talk.”

“I can think of a better way for you to shut me up. If you would let me I would caress every inch of you with my lips and tongue. I would tease you, slowly licking my way closer and closer to that delicious bundle of nerves, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until you couldn't take it and you forced -”

“Stop talking.” Killian fell silent and she could almost tell herself he wasn't there. And that's how she liked it, because his little speech was definitely not causing her to shiver and little waves of arousal to run through her. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and focused on making herself come. Except, nothing she did was quite doing it for her. She was doing everything right but since Killian had stopped his narration it wasn't enough. He was going to be insufferable. “.. Ok, I need it: tell me what comes next.”

His answering grin was wicked. “Darling, isn't it obvious? You do.”

If Emma had thought that giving into her desires would break whatever spell she was under, she was wrong. If anything the desire and sheer need was worse now. Her head echoed with the rich and detailed fantasy that Killian had narrated for her. She could see them acting out his words, she could feel it, and she was in a near constant state of heightened arousal. She cancelled all her plans for the day and tried to take her mind off her throbbing clit. Several times she realised that she was on the verge of touching herself with no recollection of a conscious decision to do it. She was feverish with the need to give into temptation.

At last she admitted that her attempts to resist were falling flat. We need to resolve this for good, she told herself when she accepted the inevitable, I have to see him so we can make this stop.

(Even she wasn't entirely convinced by her logic, but this way meant orgasms and relief.)

“We really have got to stop meeting like this, love, I'll start to think that you're just using me - and you're more than welcome to.”

“What have you done to me?” she whined. “The need to rub one out is just overwhelming.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.”

“I'm serious. I just need to touch myself. Constantly.”

Killian looked unbearably smug as he replied. “They say the devil makes work for idle hands. You haven't upset my boss recently have you?”

She glared at him. “I don't believe we've met.”

“You angered an evil witch?” She shook her head. “Stepped on cursed soil?” She rolled her eyes. “Handled a magical artifact?”

“I - er - may have done that last one?”

“Good, we're getting somewhere, any idea what it was?”

Emma wracked her brain, what had Regina called it? “The horny afro ditty?”

“You mean the Horn of Aphrodite,” he said with a smirk.

Emma waved her hand dismissively though it was hard to deny the blush that had spread across her face. “Yeah, that's basically what I said. So you know how to fix this?”

“Do you want the good news or the great news?”

Her heart sank at his delight. “Why don't I like the sound of this?”

“The good news is I know the cure. The great news is you'll get to kiss me.” He bit his lip suggestively. She ignored the tingle of arousal she felt in response.

“That's it?” She had to admit she was expecting something a little more x-rated. After all the symptoms were hardly as innocent as a simple kiss.

“Were you hoping for more? Can't say I blame you, I know my way around a woman.”

She frowned at him, shaking her head at his ego. (Even if she fully believed that he would be excellent at kissing - and the rest.) “It's fine by me. Just seems a bit..”

“Chaste?”

“Well - yeah.” She shrugged, trying to convey that it was totally fine by her.

“Aye. Well, I can see that love has been all too rare in your life.” She opened her mouth to argue but he silenced her with a raised brow. “In those cases it's not uncommon for the effects to get.. Lost in translation. Your need for intimacy has been misinterpreted as physical desire.”

“You think I need you?”

“You said it, not me.”

She scoffed at him. “Please. You couldn't handle it.”

He cocked his head at her curiously - somehow that one tiny gesture felt like a challenge. “Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it,” he said, tapping his lips.

He was goading her, there was no other word for it. He was goading her and she was uncomfortably horny and he was talking to her about physical desire and she never could back down from a challenge. That's why she wrapped her hands around the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down to her.

Several things happened the moment their lips touched. There was a burst of magic that seemed to pulse out of their lips. The all-consuming need that she'd been feeling eased, replaced by a pleasant tingle of desire. Her theory that he would be an excellent kisser was proved right - and then some.

The kiss was both soft and powerful, tender and passionate. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and running his fingers through her hair. Somehow a simple press of his lips to hers felt more sensual and intimate and made her heart beat faster than all the teasing, innuendo, and dirty talk that they had traded. It felt more personal than all of that somehow, so much more than merely lips and tongues and teeth meeting.

When they broke apart to take a breath they stayed close. She hadn't let go of his coat, their foreheads were touching and they breathed in each other's air.

Until she remembered herself, then it was all too much. His cheeks were flushed and he was ghosting his lips over hers hoping for more. She pushed away and refused to look at him.

“That was -” he breathed.

“I think we broke the curse, or whatever that was,” she said brightly.

Her words seemed to snap him out of his haze. His eyes lost their sparkle and she felt bad immediately. “Unintended side effect - a magical mishap. ” His voice was flat.

“Like some kind of sexually transmitted demon?” she chuckled, feeling a little proud of the ridiculous joke, and hoping that it might bring back his mischievous demeanour, but he didn't react. She felt disappointed, but she decided not to dwell on it. This was just a magical mishap, as he said, one that she was happy to have resolved in such a pleasant manner. “Well, I feel nothing now, so that's good.” That wasn't strictly speaking true, but he didn't need to know that. “So, thanks for your help. Um. You can go now.”

“As you wish,” he said and vanished. She tried not to think about the fact that she probably wasn't going to see him again.

It would be ridiculous to suggest that Emma missed Killian. She barely even met him a few times when she had needed to relieve some tension. It was true that he seemed to step right out of her fantasies, but that didn't mean that she actually knew him.

Still, the next time she needed to show herself some love, she summoned to mind his image to inspire her. And if she half hoped that she would summon him in the more literal sense, that was no one else's business.

It was two weeks to the day since she last saw Killian. She was lazily reading through a magical text, eyes glossing over slightly at all the descriptions of the Amulet of Something Significant and So-and-So’s Macguffin, when she saw it: The Horn of Aphrodite. Fitting name, she sniggered to herself, remembering its intense effect on her, it certainly gave me the horn.

And Killian, another voice whispered in her head.

The Horn of Aphrodite, she read. An ancient Greek artifact bestowed upon the hero Paris by the Goddess Aphrodite to unite him with his True Love. It is said that… It took Emma a moment to register what she'd just read. It united some dude with his True Love. Right. But that had to have been a one time thing she mused, feeling an uncomfortable prickly heat spreading throughout her body. It is said that all those who handle the horn, despite Emma's alarm at the implication of what she was reading, she still smirked at that particular description, will summon their own True Love to their side.

If this artifact summons a person's True Love and if touching it had summoned Killian, that meant… Well, fuck.

“You're my True Love?” she blurted out the second he appeared.

“Believe me, I'm as surprised as you, my kind isn't exactly first in line for a happy ending. Well, not the fairytale kind at least.” He gave her with a lopsided wink and she rolled her eyes.

“Seriously? I'm having a crisis and you're making dodgy jokes?” She slumped into a chair in disgust. “Some True Love you are,” she muttered.

Killian sighed and pinched his brow. “What did you expect, love? I'm a bloody demon, not Prince Charming.” He looked at her earnestly. “I'm sorry that you have been landed with the likes of me, I'm sure you deserve better.”

Emma's heart went out to him - must be that whole True Love thing - and she patted the seat next to her. He sat down without a word. “Would it help if I told you that I always thought the prince was a bit of a dick?” He laughed out loud. “I'm serious! He's all romance and happy endings but how many princesses married Prince Charming?”

“You think it was the same Prince Charming in every tale?”

“All I'm saying is Charming is not a very common name.”

“You sound like a tough lass to woo.”

She shrugged. “Not really, just give me banging it out over a bouquet of flowers any day.”

“So shall we?” Killian turned to her, placing one arm on the back of the couch behind her head. He poked his tongue into his cheek and wiggled his eyebrows at her cheekily.

She twisted towards him. “What?”

“Bang it out?”

Emma answered him with a brief, bruising kiss. She pulled back and grinned. “I thought you'd never ask.”

She had expected a good, hard fuck, not his tongue all over her, worshipping her, easing her into her orgasm. It was lazy and tender. She felt cherished and worshiped. Usually that would be enough to make her come and run, but it felt.. pretty nice actually.

She felt a blissful calm running through her, she sleepily looked down at Killian between her legs. He was grinning at her, delighted at her obvious pleasure, it was a good look on him. She closed her eyes and relaxed back against the couch.

Dimly she was aware of him moving away from her, but it didn't fully register until he scooped her up into his arms. She squealed and flailed her arms, startled by the movement. He laughed and pulled her closer to him. “Relax, love, I'm just taking you to your room.”

“Hoping I'll return the favour?”

“I'm hoping to have you on your hands and knees while I shag you senseless and it seems like very bad form to allow my True Love to get carpet burn the first time we fuck.”

“How thoughtful.”

“So what happens next?” They lay naked and sated in bed when Emma finally asked the question she’d been thinking about ever since she first read about the Horn of Aphrodite. Killian looked over at her and lazily quirked an eye at her. “With the whole True Love thing?”

“Oh, of course.” He turned on his side to look at her properly, licking his lips. “How does a lifetime of sexual bliss sound?”

She grinned in reply. “Perfect.”

#cs ff #cs cocktober #captain swan #katie dub writes #cs smut #ish #more smut glitter tbh #but i hope you like it

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awellboiledicicle · 6 years

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My Giorno Now is a fun au because if i go by in character actions, Bruno would probably be planning to marry Mil before one of his coworkers in passione was like “so u know u literally can’t do that right. u know ur being allowed by the higher ups to date her so we could use her against the Zunino family if shit gets dicey right. you know that” and bruno being bruno probably did to some extent but was ignoring it, because he, Mil and her cousin Marino hang out and watch crappy movies her brother sends her from america. or videogames. and he probably plays with Gio and pushes him on the swings. So he’d go ‘i will stop seeing her because i may be a pawn but i will not harm that little family bc of someone having a power play’. Meanwhile Mil has been slowly [ha slowly] befriending Leone because there is literally one shul in naples and 200 jewish people. they’d have met. He was probably loudly encouraging her while she was doing her official conversion there while also raising Gio and also working customer service jobs. He takes pics of EVERYTHING the day she goes before her biet din and everything. He is also that friend that physically picks her up and goes “BEHOLD, MY COUSIN” when she comes out and gets water all over his nice clothes bc drying hair? what dying hair? he has a friend to hug. Did he get the relation thing though Abraham and Sarah right? he doesn’t know, his bar mitzvah was years ago. his mom will correct him later. He’s also the one sitting there going “ok here’s how to do the thing” re: her bat mitzvah and brings The Good Coffee in american amounts to their study sessions. He basically is the summary of “i want to make Italy, or at least Naples, a safer and better place to live.” and “Mil Zinetti is my best friend”. And like, police academy is 4 years at least, depending on what kind of cop he’s going for. i’m assuming local so thus-- 4 years. He and Mil have coffee in the mornings before heading to class/work. He comes over and watches disney movies with her and Gio to practice his english. Has to be able to talk to tourists, after all. Walks Gio home from school when he has time and none of Mil’s family can get him and she’s working. There are at least 4 pictures Gio drew in crayon of Leone, himself, Mil and Bruno all in one thing with a smily sun. Leone hasn’t met Bruno yet and likewise Bruno hasn’t met Leone but the’ve heard about each other. Their take on one another from what Mil has said is “good man, nice guy” When Bruno stops seeing Mil, she still visits his father and makes sure he’s ok and doing good because her cousin Antonio worked with him and worries. She gets sad but has to keep a smile on for Gio bc he is a smol. Leone kinda steps up in the hanging out area and honestly probably had a crush going already. They date through his academy training and through his first year as a cop. When he starts taking bribes he feels terrible to some extent and confesses to Mil about it and is kinda surprised when she goes “yeah i figured. it’s alright, you’re still a good man”. When shit gets real and his partner is shot, the only thing Mil gets upset about is that he hadn’t simply shot the criminal in the head and done his best to save his partner, and failing that--say it went bad and not have brought the guy in, in pieces or not. Regardless of the fact that he has that support, his career is ruined and one of his best friends killed because he was willing to bow to corruption. Gio asks, like two weeks later, why Leone isn’t visiting anymore-- they have new videos to watch. Mil tells him Leone is just very busy right now, but he’ll be around later. Meanwhile Leone is... well Bruno finds and recruits him, not knowing he was THAT leone till later. Leone also didn’t think it was that bruno bc what fucking chances. They get close working together and then slowly accumulating the small gaggle of literal children that work for Bruno. Somewhere in here they start falling for one another because bisexual awakenings are fun and also the qualities Mil liked in them they like in each other. When the canon times roll around, Gio’s stand has awakened--whichever cousin that was supposed to come get him wasn’t paying attention and kept walking bc they didn’t notice the man. Why is his hero still a random gangster? Because Gio was studiously kept the fuck out of the family buisness that’s why. They’ll bring him in at 16, if he wants they said. Mil told them she’d tell him then, she said. No promises she’d said. Fair, now have some manacotti they had said. The guy doesn’t have to stop anything at home this time, but probably has to glare down some bullies because Gio is a soft spoken boy and grew up gardening with mom on her days off. he knows she is busy and she goes to the school when she can but you can only go in so many times before they think you’re just making noise and she only has so much time she can take from work. Mil notices the guy skulking around, though and finds out about the whole thing if only bc the guy doesn’t wanna make the Zunino’s think something is Off. Gio’s hair change is probably Golden Experience related still, but most likely he’s probably got more colors in there than just blond. He’d also probably go by a different name than Giorno Giovanna--he’s already Giorno Zinetti, and none of his extended family would recommend using his real name. Because they assume he wants to keep being a good jewish boy at home and not drag his mother into things. Blame Marino. Marino is the cause of most problems. For example, he has been combing naples to fist fight Leone and/or Bruno since shit happened. because he’s kinda bitter that his homie bounced and his cousin had to cry over them more than once. Gio keeps Giovanna as a last name for Cover and i’ll bs a first name for him that will literally only be used by people outside Bruno’s lil gang. Bruno doesn’t recognize him immediatly because it’s been literal years and he’s grown since then. Does about the time leone goes “what in the name of fuck are you doing here, kid” and Gio does his level fucking best not to go “idk what in the name of fuck are YOU doing here”. because thats what Mil’s response would be and honestly he has vaguely better snark restraint than his mom. if only just. the arc still happens but it’s still like just a long, shitty, unbelieveably stressful week of stuff. Gio taking shit over is going to be a lot of “shhh, no nonni, i am not doing this for u” and also bruno and leone being in the hospital waking up to Mil asleep in a chair across from them with the standard ‘i am asleep now but when i wake up there Will Be Words’ look. and then more emotions!! because i say so

though no matter where i go with it the idea of Leone trying very hard to pull the deadpan dad joke card but falling apart half way through the delivery because Mil and Bruno looked at him like ‘we will compound this, we are ready’ and he thought of whatever dumbass shit would come out of Bruno’s mouth and laughed half way through his own joke. Bruno has to get used to all the jewish memes though. That’s the real torture of this au. Balancing dad jokes and the [holds up styrafoam] “i would say this was matzah but it has flavor”

i just wanted to ramble bc its a cute au that i need to write and i’ll be on my happy lil au boat by myself if no one else wants to come with

#my giorno now #long post #mok fanfic updates

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years

Text

Supergirl s02e16 ‘Star Crossed (1)’

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, twice. Barely.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Five (41.66% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seven.

Positive Content Rating:

Three? I guess.

General Episode Quality:

Nevermind, they’re back to stupid. So, so stupid.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Kara passes with Rhea when they meet. They speak again later. There’s a lot of Mon-El involved both times, but they get there eventually.

Female characters:

Kara Danvers.

Alex Danvers.

Lyra.

Rhea.

Maggie Sawyer.

Male characters:

Mon-El.

J’onn J’onzz.

Winn Schott.

Lar.

James Olsen.

Boris.

Mandrax.

OTHER NOTES:

“To make Daxom great again.” Oh, no.

Ok. That flashback. I have mentioned before, how disturbed I am to find that the original confrontation of Kara’s prejudices towards Daxom have since been shown as actual deserved disdain, and how Daxom being actually exactly as bad as she said (to a caricaturish level) undermines Kara’s supposed lesson as well as treating Krypton as holier-than-thou despite all the huge flaws in its culture that have been made so evident, creating this huge us-vs-them divide with a really clear ‘good side’ and ‘bad side’ and absolutely zero nuance, etc. The flashback to Mon-El’s departure from Daxom as it actually happened does no favours to any aspect of the narrative: Mon-El is shown as hesitant and concerned for the safety of others in defiance of the prevailing Daxomite attitude, because the show is too afraid of the audience backlash if they show him being truly callous instead of just passively allowing it, while at the same time the narrative gives no quarter for Daxom and its people as a whole despite their undeserved fates. We are supposed to see Mon-El’s guard and think him awful, but what do we expect any ‘good’ guard to do? Maybe not kill that one guy, but the rest, with the ignoring everyone else in order to focus on rescuing the person he’s pledged to protect? Even killing the Kryptonian makes sense (is not morally ok, but makes sense) in the context of being exactly the kind of targeted violence that happens in the real world when people are ‘othered’. The coding of the behaviour is so transparent it’s disgusting, and coupled with that not-even-veiled MAGA line just before? Daxom’s Republicans to Krypton’s Democrats is a pretty fucking gross parallel to draw. I am very disappointed in the show for all of this garbage.

Remember when I fucking flagged Lyra as using Winn for her own ends the second she stepped on screen? Fucking flagged it.

This is a much better Hamilton joke right here than the one a few episodes ago, but that one a few episodes ago was still too much, and that steps on this, because, really? Two sizeable Hamilton gags with only a couple of episodes between them? You’re trying WAY too hard to be current, show. It’s embarrassing.

Uurrrgghhh, and now we’re doing the ‘oh actually Lyra had a good reason for being terrible!’ thing? This shit is so predictable and empty and I am so over it. Remember one episode ago when this show was momentarily good again?

Is Guardian fighting in a fucking glass factory or what? So many glass panes to be thrown through.

So, we pretending that Lyra’s lie and Mon-El’s lie are the same? Just ‘they lied’ is not a parallel, show. These are not comparable situations.

See, Mon-El says in his apology that ‘I was a spoiled, useless person, but I didn’t know’, and that’s a big part of what is making this whole storyline, all season long, so poor. The total lack of nuance in Daxom. The clear-cut morality of Kryptonians which, also, lacks the nuance of reality. If Mon-El was raised in that life, how much opportunity did he have for seeing the flaws in it and recognising them as such? We have no concept of his level of self-awareness, and refusing to allow people room to grow is not how you achieve progress. At the same time, Mon-El’s process of self-improvement on Earth has been so paint-by-numbers simple, it’s hard to take it seriously. If he’s found changing so easy, how entrenched were those ‘spoiled, useless’ teachings that made up his entire formative existence? Real people take years to overcome such things, not least because when it’s a commonplace feature of how you were raised, it’s hard to recognise that there’s even a problem, let alone dismantle the rationale in your own mind that has allowed you to be unthinkingly complicit. Expecting Mon-El to change like flipping a coin is unfair; blaming him for the circumstances of his birth is unfair; telling this story in the way that they have, with his self-awareness and capacity for immediate total overhaul not just of personality but of ideals apparently uninhibited and detailed with only the slightest of backslides? Utterly unrealistic. What should have been a long, hard journey of self-reflection, questioning, and honestly ugly behaviour has instead been casual comic relief and romantic faux pas, and that’s so insulting. I can’t support Mon-El as a character because I can’t support the ill-constructed narrative that made him; in basic terms, he doesn’t make enough sense. He’s too unrealistic to function.

URGH. This is such a fucking mess I am annoyed at myself for even trying to untangle it. That kinda happens when you’re trying to over-simplify your storytelling to this extent: the break from reality is too intense, and you end up with a heap of confusion that your audience can’t figure out how to engage with on a meaningful level. In university, the single most important word I learned was ‘ethnocentricity’ - the belief that your own culture/background is inherently superior to all others. On the surface level, this is plain ol’ racism - and can be many other ‘isms as well, as cultural background shapes our perceptions of gender, sexuality, religion, etc. Looking deeper, we see ethnocentricity manifest when we assume that our social or moral codes are automatically the correct ones, without pausing to question where we got those codes from, and whether or not, actually, there might be better ways to do things. I actually debated this directly, back in 2016 when two Australian men were executed in Indonesia for drug smuggling, and the debate over the morality of the death penalty was rife throughout the country. I’m not going to get into that debate again here, but as an example of ethnocentricism, it was a case in which a lot of Australians flat refused to acknowledge the possibility that just because another country has different laws which conflict with our way of doing things, doesn’t necessarily mean that the people of that country are corrupt, lesser beings with an under-developed sense of morality which we need to step in and correct. Different ways of doing things can be shocking to our sensibilities at first blush, but we have to think about why they are that way and how the backdrop of that logic informs the constructs we see, before we pass high-and-mighty judgment over others.

Supergirl’s Daxom narrative is a perfect example of ethnocentricism at work, with zero reflection: Kara is right, Mon-El is wrong, this cultural division is all-encompassing and without exception, the end. To be clear: I’m not suggesting that there’s a way to argue for, say, slavery being ok, but what there is is nuance to how people reach such a conclusion, and if we refuse to engage with the nuance we can’t engage with cultural learning, sharing, or understanding, and that’s how you end up with blank hostility instead of working towards more positive futures. Something being ‘obviously morally correct’ is (as evidenced through the entirety of human history) not enough to change systemic issues outright; if it were, the systemic issues wouldn’t have developed in the first place. Supergirl has run into trouble here because it’s trying to be topical, addressing the divisions in current US politics, but it also doesn’t want to actually have a nuanced conversation about the subject, and so instead we get heavy-handed black-and-white morality that only alienates the two sides instead of identifying common ground and building upon it to bridge the gap. Moreover, the show cripples its ability to explore these concepts in a better, more thorough way in the future, because it refuses to commit to the shades of grey in its situation and instead builds a two-camps concept in which any dithering or olive-branching between the two looks like ideological compromise and moral degradation instead of the complicated and painful process of learning that it represents in the real world.

The truth is that as nice as it is to sit on your moral high horse feeling pure and special while everyone else scrabbles on the muddy ground, you can’t understand the people down below and you certainly can’t help them unless you’re willing to hop down and work through the mud as well, and what use is ideological purity if you’re the only one who benefits from it? That doesn’t mean that we should all start behaving in ways that conflict with our moral compass because, hey, some people are bigots, but it does mean recognising that we are all in a process of self-improvement and if you’re not at least open to the possibility that your way of doing things isn’t the best way, you can’t progress yourself, nor does treating others with condescension help bring them to your way of thinking or at least to a middle ground from which you can proceed together. That’s all a much messier and trickier prospect than what this show wants to deal with, and yet it’s exactly the story they’ve blundered into the middle of with the ridiculous notion that they’re gonna be able to clear-cut their way out. Mon-El’s process should involve a lot of questions: not ‘this thing is correct because obviously it is’ or ‘this thing is correct because Kara says so’, but rather ‘I’m being told that my way is wrong: why? Why is it wrong? Why was I taught that it was right? In what ways has my belief in the correctness of this thing influenced my perceptions of other things? Is it possible that this thing I believe actually is right, and Kara is wrong? Why should her perspective be infallible? What are the consequences of either possibility? Does that jive with the rest of my understanding of the world? What else is altered by this change? Are these alterations also correct?’ and so on, and so on, ad nauseum. Exhausting, repetitive, and complicated, yes, but that’s the reality (not least because he’s supposed to be a literal alien from another planet, but, whatever). At first, I thought it was stupid of them to introduce Mon-El without bothering to spend time on his integration into Earth culture outside of a handful of gimmicks; now I see that it’s much worse than that. I don’t expect this whole arc to end well; I only hope that it ends quickly.

#Supergirl #Supergirl season two #Bechdel Test #female representation #Star Crossed (1)

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