#she's still on the chopping block might be time to cut her down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-libra-writes · 1 year

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Uuugghhh i misclicked and deleted a post i was working on......... I still remember the prompt but 💀😫 OG request was ASOIAF characters reacting to their s/o surviving an assassination attempt, another nonny wanted something similar, so I combined!

Obvs there will be mentions of blood, angst, and so on! We got: Cersei, Jaime, Tywin, Tyrion, Asha (Yara), Victarion, Brandon, Ned, Benjen, Brynden, Oberyn, Doran, Brienne

Cersei - Woe to the messenger who brings this news to her; the only thing worse about Cersei finding out is her finding out days after it happens. She's livid, and has no shortage of people to blame and suspect. The idea that this attempt is the consequence of her own machinations and manipulations does not to occur to her, or at least - she quickly shoves that thought aside.

She has her sick room moved closer to her own, and threatens the hell out of Pycelle to ensure a speedy recovery. The maids are threatened as well, though eventually Cersei's paranoia whittles them down to just one or two. She visits when you're awake, and either fusses over your comfort or doggedly acts as though everything is fine and you'll be up in no time - even if you're still sickly and wan. Yes, there's ... some denial there, and in rare moments, the facade and denial will melt, and Cersei will express genuine fear that you may have died.

Jaime - There's several minute of disbelief when he hears what happened. Then the anger rushes over him at once - who did it? And where was he to defend you? Then suspicion. Could his sister have found out about you two? Jaime ought to wait until it's safe to visit you, when he can't be seen - but he's never been good at fighting his whims.

Once at your side, he's clearly anxious and discomforted at how tired and sickly you look. His usual flippant, sarcastic front only lasts a few minutes. He gives in, his shoulders slump and you can see the clear anxiety and anger in his bright green eyes. He comes into your chambers every other day, but you aren't aware how often he hovers around the door and hall, eager for the assassin to come again so he might kill them with his own hands.

Tywin - Any attempt on your life was almost certainly meant to send a message to him. That's how he'll always see it, anyway, and Tywin will answer swiftly. He'll probably mutilate or execute your poor excuses for guards, and the maester understands your recovery will go well or he'll be next on the chopping block. Next, he draws up his mental lists of suspects and cuts through them. Tywin Lannister will find out who did this. There's no uncertainty of that.

That said, he doesn't visit the first few days of your recovery - both because of the investigating he's spending late hours on, and because he genuinely doesn't want to see you in such a weak, uneasy state. He isn't willing to admit this to himself, of course, but it brings back memories of Joanna. He'd be more affected if you were stabbed versus if you were poisoned; the blood, the bandages, your pale complexion and low energy all point to the very obvious fact you nearly died, and that would have affected the normally immovable, cruel Lannister patriarch. He doesn't like reminders that he's mortal.

Tyrion - Panic and dread starts bubbling up once he hears the news and really processes it. Tyrion wants to see you right away, even if you're in no state to see visitors for a while. He already has a shortlist of possible culprits, his sister being at the top. He makes sure it's a maester he trusts whose helping your recovery, one of your personal maids he knows whose caring for you, a few guards he pays personally and knows well ... It may seem like a bit much to you, but for Tyrion, it isn't enough. He's still riddled with anxiety and worry that whoever did it will send another assassin to finish the job.

He does his best to be reassuring and light-hearted when he visits, not wanting to trouble you with all the thoughts plaguing him. He likes to bring flowers and books and such, things to brighten your day and occupy you. Tyrion tries to float the idea of moving you to a private manor rather than the Red Keep.

Asha - She's alternating between a quiet fury and outright anger, snapping at this maester and that servant to handle you better. She might push them aside and just do it herself; she can certainly stitch a wound closed, though poison is beyond her. Oh, she has a good idea of who might have done this, but that's for later. First priority is getting your guts back in place and making sure there's some kind of medicine or disinfectant in these islands.

She investigates into who the culprit might be, but still takes time to visit you in the evening. She knows you'll pull through, you're strong - but what kind of lover would she be if she didn't check in and bother you? Asha alternates between a rare tenderness and her usual light heartened jokes, whichever works best on cheering you up.

Victarion - So. The good news is he didn't kill the messenger. The bad news is he's close to strangling the maester that was dragged in to treat you. Victarion has no way of figuring out who did this or how, so anyone is open to his wrath. He might eventually have suspicions, but it'll be his brothers and Asha who will do most of the investigating (if they bother). This rattles Victarion more than he's willing to admit.

It's difficult to visit when you're incoherent and pale, so he waits until you're more stable, even if all these negative emotions bite at him. There's anxiety, fear, powerlessness; all things he's worked to avoid and outrun. He probably doesn't even admit how badly he'd shaken. When you're finally awake and talking, that lessens some of the burden. Then he can pretend you're completely fine, and you'll recover quickly. He doesn't want to linger in the sickroom, so he just has you moved to your shared bedchambers. .... Probably for the best, since they get cleaned more often.

Brandon - He's beside himself with anger and worry. How did this happen? Weren't his best guards with you? Who was the culprit - was this a ploy to get to him? Intrigue is not his strong suit; he can't bruteforce his way through this, and it's beyond frustrating - it's just painful. He wants a culprit so he has someone to throttle.

Brandon makes sure you're as comfortable. He may not know much about treating wounds, but he knows you're in pain and wants to help in any way he can. This leads to him hovering too much, and the maester has had to kick him out so you can get rest. You're supposed to be recovering in the sickroom, but Brandon still wants to sleep next to you. It's half paranoia that something might happen again, and half he doesn't want you to be lonely. Yes, he's the actual lonely one ...

Ned - It takes a few hours, perhaps a day, for the reality of what happened to sink in ... and then the dread and anger follows. He keeps these emotions inside, of course, wanting to focus on who could have done this and why. Was it because of his own doing, or was this assassin after you specifically? He's never been one to uncover and follow schemes, and that shortcoming is especially obvious and frustrating now.

But when he visits your sickbed, Ned tries to push all that aside. He wants to make sure you're recovering and cared for, and while he follows the maester's instructions, he's also willing to go against them for your comfort, like if you want to be moved to back to your shared bedchambers. It's hard for Ned to deny you anything to begin with, he is absolutely going to let you curl up with him because it helps you feel better and safer, wounds be damned.

Benjen - The solemnity that comes over his long face startles his fellow Brothers. Of course this is no laughing matter, but the dark cloud that passes over his features and makes those grey eyes look so cold is startling. He wants to go beyond the Wall immediately and kill whoever did it, but he knows that's foolish. He has to grit his teeth and wait, because they'll surely send more.

He focuses on taking care of you. While they do have Maester Aemond, the old man's eyes make it tricky to do any kind of surgery. When you're awake and recovering, Benjen does his best to give you his soft smiles and usual jokes, though they're more muted than before. He hopes you don't notice how tired and anxious he's feeling. He tries to avoid assignments that'll send him away from Castle Black, and he sneaks into your sick room to sleep beside you whenever he can get away with it.

Brynden - The very cowardice of the act boils his blood. Whoever wanted to do this to you should have gone through him - he hates that he wasn't there when you needed him. Hasn't Brynden always said he'd protect you? If the attempt was done with poison, he's even more bitter. It's easy to get you the care you need, but he's still troubled, sitting at your bedside and wearing a troubled expression that doesn't go away until you wake up.

He tries to smile and comfort you, but his anger at the situation is obvious. When he's not out investigating what happened, he's at your side. He's keeping you company and playing "a poor nurse", so he says, but you know it's also to keep you protected. He comes in with full armor and his sword, after all. You sense he isn't sleeping well, either; he'd rather spend the late hours guarding you as you sleep.

Oberyn - It's not surprising that he reacts with anger. Oberyn would've been right there at your side, wanting to stop the bleeding himself, carrying you all the way to the maester while barking at guards to sweep the area. He'd go out on his own in a heartbeat, but assuring you're stable comes first. The minute you were, though - he's gone, spear in hand and wanting to find out what happened. Between himself and Doran, the assassin - or at least whoever hired them - can't stay anonymous for long.

While you're recovering, he does all he can for you. Do you want a dozen pillows, plenty of flowers, books, music? Company or none? Any food or drink - even if the maester cautions against specific ones - will be your's. Oberyn spares no expense, the guilt and anger he feels at "letting" this happen assuaged just slightly every time he grants a request. He prefers you be moved to your shared bedchambers rather than a sick room, both so he can protect you and so you don't feel so isolated.

Doran - His schooled, calm expression finally cracks when he hears the news. He wants to get up at once, to rush to the messenger and shake them, but he has to compose himself. Doran knows these things happen, and he already has clear suspicions of whose responsible, but that doesn't help his racing mind. He waits until the maester has done his job and you're stable before visiting you - for one, he has to calm himself, and two, he has to act fast if he hopes to retaliate.

Doran makes sure you have the utmost comfort while you recover, much like his brother, though he's not nearly as over-indulgent. He often spends time with you in your sickroom, reading you stories or just talking while holding your hand and petting your hair. He has a wonderful bedside manner helped by his steady presence and voice; it's near impossible to pick up the anger and injustice he's feeling. He doesn't want to subject his paramour to that. You should just focus on resting.

Brienne - She feels a terrible chill come over her, and then the adrenaline. She jumps to action. If the assassin is foolish enough to attempt it while Brienne is within shouting distance - they're dead, period, she will not let them escape after they did such a thing. But if it was poison, or a near-fatal wound - she may have to just to get you help. She gathers you up in her arms and easily carries you to help, shouting for a maester or healer, regardless of it was the middle of the night or day. She'll drag one out of a castle if need be.

Brienne wants to sit in while you're being treated, but she knows she shouldn't. She's stewing in anxiety and worry, wondering if she could've done something differently. Once you're awake and stable, it's like a weight has been lifted off. She still has plans for the assassin if they weren't caught - but first, she needs to focus on you. The adrenaline finally runs out once she hears your voice and has your hand to hold. She's so relieved she could just crash next to you, but no, you need her to be steady and strong.

#yes this also means it deleted what i had written sdJFDJSFS #siiiiighhhhhhhhh!#anyway i feel like ive done this before but.... maybe not?? i dont think i ever published it?#cersei lannister x reader #jaime lannister x reader #tywin lannister x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #asha greyjoy x reader #victarion greyjoy x reader #brandon stark x reader #ned stark x reader #benjen stark x reader #brynden tully x reader #oberyn martell x reader #doran martell x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #yara greyjoy x reader

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mellowpiepizzalamp · 2 years

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Cutting Buck’s hair

Summary: Bucky’s hair didn’t sit good with him anymore.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, my rubbish writing (it’s a warning)

Word count: ~1300 words

A/N: just a disclaimer I AM NOT A HAIRDRESSER, I just put Brad Mondo’s video into writing. Also, I love Bucky with long hair, but I couldn’t help but imagine something like this. Also, I think it’s free if like skin colour and hair colour description of the reader, exept she/her pronouns. If you find something let me know because it’s not supposed to be here. If I get any shit from someone for using dutch at the end I will block you because it’s my first language and I’d like to use it sometimes because I know I would if I was with someone who didn’t speak dutch. Bye loves!

“Buck, can we go to the store today? We can get your favourite crisps too and- Are you okay?” she was cut off by the sight of Bucky tracing his scars with a judging look while his hair kept falling into his face as he stood before the mirror.

He jumped when he realised she stood at the bathroom door. “Yeah, Yeah, fine. I was just uhm, what were you saying?” he said and scrambled to put on his shirt.

“Bucky calm down. What’s worrying you?” she asked him and held him by his elbows. His hands were trembling and he doubtfully put his hands on her skin.

“I- I just, I-” he couldn’t get the words out, avoided her eyes, breathed heavily and tears started to form in his eyes.

“Do the breathing exercise with me yeah? In and out, slowly.” They breathed together until he could keep the rhythm.

“I had a nightmare last night, but you were still sleeping when I woke up, so I didn’t want to wake you up, but that nightmare was horrible.” He managed to keep his breathing even but the tears still started.

“You can always wake me, okay? No matter the reason,” she soothed and opened her arms for a hug.

“I hate the scars and the stupid arm, but worst of all, I hate the hair. It reminds me of the Winter Soldier and I don’t want to be him anymore, never wanted to be.” He cried into her neck as he hid his face.

After the year they had been together, she was proud of how far they had come. It was still hard at times but they faced it together.

“Your body might have been the Winter Soldier but your heart and mind never were. And your body had changed too you know. You have scars from fighting on the side you have always wanted to, you have a different arm that’s way stronger, you get to decide who you are, who you love, where you go, everything. And if your hair is standing in the way of you being happy, we can cut it,” she smiled.

He lifted his head and rested it against hers. “Will you do it?” he asked, just above a whisper.

“I’m not a hairdresser,” she said nervously.

“I don’t want anyone else to do it,” he said as he took a step back and look at the ground.

“Okay, I can try. Don’t kill me if it looks bad,” she smiled and pulled him back and gave him a kiss.

“I’ll lock you in the house with me if that happens.”

“Ah, so I get to fuck up your hair and get a reward.”

Three days later she came back after buying some things she might need after the advice of a real hairdresser.

“Buck, I’ve got everything, literally. I’ve got clippers, a comb, official hair scissors, even thinning sheers, metal hair clips, a water bottle spray thing and advice of a hairdresser.” She smiled as he came out of the kitchen, half his hair in a bun, and still eating cereal.

“Thanks, doll, can we do it now?” he asked with his puppy eyes.

“Of course! You go and sit down and I’ll get a towel and fill the bottle.”

When she got that all she put the towel around his neck and carefully secured it with a safety pin.

She grabbed the stool on wheels from her office before sitting down on it. “Want me to tell you what I’m doing?” He nodded and smiled at her through the mirror once she put it upon the table.

She placed a kiss on top of his head before she began. “First I’m going to chop off all this length,” she grinned in an American accent she knew he hated.

He mocked a fake glare that faded away with a kiss on his cheek.

“Ready?” she asked as her scissors stood at the ready to cut the fist strand halfway. He nodded and met her eyes in the mirror.

“You’re going to need to talk, otherwise it isn’t my fault I fuck up your hair,” she smiled.

“Yes, I’m ready,” he said and heaved a breath of excitement. She cut it off and handed it to him. As she did the rest, it fell to the ground as Bucky still saved the first strands. “

Now, we have a very nice bob, something for you, monsieur?” she asked with a smile and he scrunched his nose. She kept playing with European words, as in words from European languages, as she was used to, due to her very Dutch background.

“Then we need to section your hair,” she smiled and wheeled to get the metal clippers and comb from the table in front of them.

“I’m going to comb it back and from here I’m going to do it like this and clip this up, see?” she turned his head for him to see and he smiled.

She finished sectioning and took him through the process. “Now the clippers, with the longest thing for on it, I don’t know what they’re called,” she said and plugged it in.

“Guards, need me to put them on?” “Yes,” she handed it to him.

“Okay, she said I needed to hold the comb in one hand and the clippers in the others and do it like this,” she started and went around his whole head with a certain motion.

“If I shave your ear off, that’s not my problem,” she murmured as she now did the parts by his ears as she’s been avoiding those. He smiled, making his ears move and she gave him a look through the mirror.

“That’s dangerous Barnes.” She finished and got him to switch it to a smaller guard and repeated the motion but in a different way, Bucky didn’t know anymore but went along.

She switched guards again and he figured out she was doing some sort of gradient on his hair, it started to look really good.

“I’m fixing these bits now,” she smiled and cleaned up his hairline.

She took the thinning sheers and cleared the top parts until they were both happy with it. She let down his top hair and parted it in two after wetting his hair. Then she proceeded to section it in more bits and cut it at an angle. She combed it back into the next small section and cut it off at the same angle and length.

After measuring if the front two bits were the same lengths she did the other side too. She kept his hair wet throughout and was now putting a heat protector in his hair and blow-dried it.

She styled it a bit to one side and then revealed it to him, although he had been looking the whole time.

“I left it a bit longer on top so I don’t ruin it for the barber but I hope you like it.” He kept looking at it and couldn’t help but touch the back of his head.

“Also, I uhm, I went off of this picture with styling. I hope I wasn’t doing wrong by doing that,” she held up a very old picture of him and Steve on a mountain on a mission.

Bucky was speechless and just flung himself at her while he cried tears of happiness.

“Thank you, how did you get that picture?”

She smiled softly at him and said, “Steve owed me,” and winked. “I’m asking you later about that,” he said in her neck and dragged her over to the sofa and laid down with her.

As he started to cry again she held him and let him do so.

“Thank you so much, I’ve never felt more myself since falling off that fucking train.” he said with a teary smile before kissing her softly.

“Anytime mijn lief.” [my love, in dutch]

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel

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minecraftrelatedrandomness · 5 months

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my pirates death predictions tier list as of 4 dec 2023 lore (6 days until the end)

explanations under the cut

survival predictions

p!shelby survives purely on the basis of having skipped town offscreen. it would kinda be funny to me. if not that, she's a 50/50.

p!acho's chances are either dying in the kishi quest (for personal lore reasons) or in conjunction with p!scott (for familial lore reasons). with the current theory discussed on the powcreations discord (if both p!acho and p!apo survive the last lore stream, they end up on kishi island which they might have passed on their way to the ice wall), i personally doubt p!apo is gonna die.

i feel that to give p!apo a satisfactory ending, he's gonna have to have at least one more lore stream to tie up the loose ends. ESPECIALLY the alphie-related backstory and to have a satisfactory conclusion to the character arc. if p!acho dies in the kishi quest, p!apo is gonna survive.

i want p!el to have a happy resolution to her identity crisis. p!jojo is just there for vibes but at this point, "kill the cutie" could be in order for her.

either/or predictions

most of the 50/50 people aren't very active on the server and i jokingly call them cannon fodder bc of this; the rest are based purely on how much character lore they have (not much). p!water is there mainly because of the whole jeffery ordeal and i dunno if she's gonna live as a widow or join her hubby-that-could-have-been in the afterlife.

p!will and p!shep have upcoming lore tomorrow/day after (time zones are weird). p!shep is PROBABLY gonna survive it, given he's said on discord he'll livestream the finale, but i don't know if he'll make it PAST the finale.

p!graecie's chances of survival depend on the isles because her arc kinda ties into the nightingale faction leader thing. if the isles go down in the finale, she'll go down with them. if the isles make it out of the finale still standing, p!graecie MIGHT survive to grow as a leader in the in-universe future, but she might also die. if she dies, either p!acho or p!apo is gonna be left in charge, partially bc it would be funny but also partially for arc reasons.

p!owen skipped town back on nov 18 and i have no way of knowing if he's gonna live or die and i ain't gonna guesstimate that.

death predictions

with cc!scott dropping ominous lore hints in his most recent livestream (dec 3), P!SCOTT IS ALMOST DEFINITELY GOING TO DIE. probably to the cult, his parents (derog), or his own mental health issues, since those seem to be the biggest ongoing storylines for his character.

i've always envisioned p!michela to be on the chopping block ever since p!aimsey went missing due to entwined lore. but it's hard to say she's 99% gonna die when she has barely logged on in a long while, so yeah.

the only reason i put p!kuervo in 80% is because as a (fellow) totalitarian autocracy survivor, i want to hold out hope. but realistically speaking, with the stunt he pulled with the letter to the armada, he's more likely than not to end up executed. ESPECIALLY with the ending of his most recent livestream (dec 2). and also nov 18 ending.

i haven't watched p!kyle's most recent lore (nov 17) so this is based purely on vibes (legacy, what is a legacy) from what i know about that lore stream.

p!saus because evil sword lore. p!ros just has the "kill the cutie" vibes. also hunter (powcreations discord) predicts p!ros is gonna die in the process of trying to stop p!saus from turning full evil and i honestly think that tracks, esp since mufasa is out of the equation now (as of oct 30).

p!martyn is a weird case of "dying in the pirates universe and returning to the datastream". so he technically will die but also doesn't. i think it's the villain arc spurring me into this decision.

#pirates smp ensemble #pirates smp theory #pirates smp #my post #isleposting #scurvyblr #pirates smp spoilers

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walker-extended-universe · 7 months

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We Go Down Together, Chapter 1

Relationship(s): Cassie Perez & Cordell Walker

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Kidnapping, Torture, Captivity, Psychological Torture, Grey Flag, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury

Summary: An AU in which Cassie was kidnapped along with Cordell. How will Cassie handle the torture? And how will Cordell handle Cassie?

Written for @whumptober prompt 11: Captivity

@walkerverse-bingo square filled: Captivity

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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“Hope you boys weren’t planning on starting without me.”

Trey laughed. “No, we know better. You’d just chase us down when we were least expecting it.”

“Are you sure you want to join us though?” Liam asked. “I mean, we’ve been at this for a year already and our times have only been improving-”

“Don’t listen to him,” Cordell interjected. “He’s just trying to psych you out so he doesn’t end up in 4th place instead of his usual 3rd.”

“Hey, I made second once!”

“Because Trey had a cold!”

Cassie couldn’t help but chuckle, watching them bicker. “Please, I’ll smoke all of you. I was the fastest in my Trooper class three years in a row.”

“Hm, they must’ve lowered standards since I was a Trooper….”

Cassie lightly punched Cordell in the arm. “Ha ha, very funny. Hey, maybe the next time your badge is on the chopping block you should just give in and start doing stand-up at the Side Step.”

Liam groaned. “Nooo, don’t tell him that! Isn’t it bad enough that we have to suffer through his jokes? Why would you subject the rest of Austin to that?”

The brothers started bickering again and they went at it until Trey broke it up. “Come on, let’s be on our best behavior. Wouldn’t want Cassie to think we’re unruly schoolboys.”

She shrugged. “Eh, I already do. But anyway, how does this work? Just first one back to the house gets the hat and the loser buys drinks? Do we keep a hand on the fence until we say go or is it a free for all?”

“Well,” Cordell started. “First we put one hand on the fence….” He waited until she copied his movement before continuing. “And then we….GO!”

He was off like a shot and she was right behind him, laughing as she tried to keep up with him. So he wanted to play dirty? That was fine; she would still catch up to him. She imagined herself snatching the hat right out from under him and taking her trophy home. Maybe she’d put it on top of the bookshelf in the front room, where everyone could see it. Or maybe she’d just start wearing it to work. Yeah. That might be fun.

She was so lost in her head, she almost didn’t notice that she lost sight of Cordell. Almost.

Considering the path they were on was straight (aka, no curves for her to lose him on), that was not a good sign.

She slowed down to a jog, peeking into the brush around the path. Maybe he was just trying to mess with her and he’d jump out any second with that playful grin he used whenever he got away with breaking policy at work. Probably trying to actually psyche her out. She smirked and shook her head. “You can’t fool me, Walker!” she called. “I know you too well!”

She slowed and her smile fell when he didn’t pop out. Unless…. He was still trying to psyche her out? But she already called him out on it. Why wouldn’t he come out? “Come on, I know you’re hiding. It’s not fun for either of us if I know the trick!”

The crack of a gunshot cut through the air and she ran toward it. She pulled her pistol out of the concealed holster in her running pants and kept going until she found the source of the noise.

Walker was on the ground in front of a white van and two men were securing his wrists and ankles in cuffs. She instinctively reached for a walkie she didn’t have and cursed. She didn’t even have cuffs. She was on her own and she was outnumbered. But she had a gun and they weren’t paying attention to her. If she aimed right, she could at least incapacitate them enough to get Walker out of there. If she just…

She froze when a branch broke under her foot.

The man paused after Walker was put down in the van. “You hear that?”

Maybe if she stayed still, they wouldn’t notice-

Something hit her head and the world went dark.

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Cordell felt the rumble of a vehicle under him before he heard the engine. Random bits of soft conversation flowed from the front seat, not that he could make out much of it. He tried to remember where he was, how he’d gotten there. He remembered waking up this morning and setting out his clothes for Stella’s graduation. He remembered prodding Liam out of bed for their daily run. He remembered meeting up with Cassie before the race.

He remembered someone grabbing him off the trail and punching the wind out of him before he could react. He remembered getting a shot off before something hit him in the back of the head.

He carefully opened his eyes, just enough to see what was right in front of him. He was in a van; he had no idea how long they’d been traveling, or where they were now. He could see duffle bags, rope, guns, and-

He nearly gasped when he saw her. Thank god he stifled it in time.

Cassie was laying against the far wall of the van. She was cuffed just like he was and had a sizable bump on her head. And she was waking up.

He watched her open her eyes and take stock of the situation, just like he had. Her eyes went wide when they landed on him. “Walk-”

“Shhh. Don’t talk,” he whispered. “Whatever they do or say, don’t react. Play dead.”

She clamped her mouth shut and nodded.

They hit a small bump in the road and the van started to slow down. Cordell gave Cassie a look and closed his eyes, hoping she would follow suit.

The van jerked when it finally came to a stop. The doors open, sending a warm breeze into the stuffy van. Their captors roughly grabbed at Cordell’s face and he felt a blindfold slide over his eyes. So they weren’t going to kill them right away but they wanted to keep their location secret for when he and Cassie “woke up”. Interesting.

He was dragged out of the van by his arms; he heard them pulling Cassie out shortly after. Asphalt changed to concrete under his feet and he was hauled up to his feet to navigate the stairs. From there, he was dragged down a labyrinth of hallways until they stopped and dropped him, leaning him against the bars of a cell. Through the small gap under his blindfold, he saw them bring Cassie in and rest her against a different wall.

“Can’t believe we got two for one. The boss is gonna be happy with us.”

“Just be glad we got this one.” A pair of dirty boots stopped in front of him. “So this is the war hero, huh? I thought he’d be taller.”

The men talked for a bit longer before leaving him and Cassie alone in their cell. Once the men were out of hearing range, he spoke up. “You okay?”

“I’m sore, blindfolded, and Liam’s not buying me any drinks anytime soon, but other than that, I’m fine.” Cassie huffed. “Who were those guys? And where are we?”

“Those are two great questions I don’t have answers to,” Cordell muttered. He reached forward with his hands, feeling along the floor. “Maybe we can figure out the ‘where’ on our own. Do you hear anything over there?”

“...Dripping water. And I think there’s sunlight behind me; I can feel it.”

“So definitely above ground. Somewhere abandoned but not condemned. A place that can be maintained….”

“You got all that from sunlight and dripping water?”

Cordell smirked. “What can I say? I’m good at my job.” It also wasn’t the first time he’d been kidnapped but that was a story for another time. “Anyway, there’s about 100 specific locations we could be but I’m willing to bet we’re still in the Austin area. We weren’t in the van for that long, though I’m not sure how long we were out….”

“Right,” Cassie agreed. “I’m sure James and everyone are already working on finding us. We’ll be out of here soon, right?”

“We’ll see,” Cordell said. “These guys know what they're doing, but so does James. We just need to hold out for a bit.”

Their conversation was cut off by footsteps heading their way. Cordell went back to pretending he was out and signaled for Cassie to follow suit. The longer they were “out”, the more information they could get.

“I know you’re awake,” the new person said, kicking Cordell’s foot. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Cordell saw the boots, the stance. Definitely ex-military. Probably all the guys that took them were. “Let me guess- you wanted to join in on our race and got jealous that I was winning.”

The blindfold was ripped off and- yeah that haircut was definitely ex-military. The guy loomed over him for a moment then took off Cassie’s blindfold too. “Do you know why your partner’s here?” he asked her curtly.

She shrugged. “I mean…. Just based on the vibes I’m guessing this is some kind of revenge plot….”

The guy smirked. “Not exactly.” He went back to Cordell. “Boss wants to talk to you; this could clear things up.” He lifted Cordell by the cuffs and dragged him out of the cell. Cordell turned to look over his shoulder to see Cassie try and get up and follow him, only to be stopped by a leash on her ankle. These guys really were professionals.

Cordell was both surprised and not by his meeting with the leader, Sean He didn’t expect it to come so soon, nor did he expect it to be someone he didn’t know. He’d been thinking this was some elaborate revenge plot too, so seeing some random person was odd. But he wasn’t surprised this was some kind of domestic terrorist thing. His whole spiel about how the system was broken and they needed to tear it down and start over again was a bit boring and expected. Aside from the bit about his wife, but he was trying not to think about that.

On the way back to the cage, the warning Sean left him with echoed in his mind. The meeting was a courtesy, he’d said. If Cordell didn’t decide to work with them of his own accord, they were going to take more drastic measures. He didn’t want to think about what that meant. Hopefully, James would find them soon and they wouldn’t have to worry about it.

Just outside the door for their little cell, he heard a commotion and his stomach dropped. He should’ve known they wouldn’t just leave Cassie alone while he was out.

His new prison guard buddy got a good hold on his cuffs before opening the door, like he was preparing for a fight. And he was right to.

Cassie was hanging by her cuffs from a hook in the ceiling of the cage. Just as the door opened, she screamed as they shocked her in the side with a cattle prod. Based on the number of bruises Cordell could see, they’d started this a while ago.

He grit his teeth and pulled against the guard’s hold but didn’t fight too much. He didn’t need to make the situation worse than it already was.

They got one more shock in before they left and it took everything in Cordell not to lunge at them as they passed each other.

He was taken to the opposite side of the cage as Cassie and given a leash of his own. A leash that stopped him halfway across the cage so he couldn’t try and comfort Cassie. “Are you okay?” he asked stupidly.

Cassie groaned and slowly stood up. She held her right side, which had more bruises. “I’ll be fine,” she hissed, taking shaking steps toward him.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Save your strength. You’re gonna need it.”

Cassie nodded and quickly sat down. “Yeah, yeah, okay….”

His hands flexed uselessly at his side. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna figure out a way to get us out of here,” he promised. “We’ll be fine. I’m good at my job, remember?” He tried to smile. She tried to smile back.

Neither of them did a good job.

#whumptober2023 #no.11 #captivity #walker #fic #kidnapping tw #torture tw #injury tw #cassie perez #cordell walker #my writing #my fic

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townofcadence · 1 month

Text

Snowed In

@talesofnovembria continued from here!

She'd initially raised a brow when Artair sought her out to help with some supernatural rumors. More than anything, it was more that he was coming to her rather than someone closer. More pressing was her stepping away from the Estate to deal with something like this. Sure, Cassandra and her husband didn't really seem to mind...

But Alexander was always the main issue. She could rant and rave about how she didn't care what he said about her actions... but that would be a lie. Assuming this outing wouldn't take too long, there really shouldn't be anything for him to complain about.

Salena and Artair might not have seemed like much... but they were a powerful force when they were working in tandem with one another.

Both of them had agreed to meet up at his gas station, moving through the ley-line rather than risking her gates. Smart really, making it mean she only needed one to get to Cadence. In turn, this also gave her time to gather supplies. The "mission" was pretty tame. Go to investigate the mountains and the anomalies that were taking place there. Vague was the word he'd used, and she agreed.

The set of saronite armor would be overkill for something like this... but even some casual clothes might not be the right call either. Supernatural meant dangerous more often than not. Having protection would work in her favor. As a compromise, she dawned her leather armor. Another perk was having some small bags attached to help carry her other supplies.

Supplies which included a strange looking whistle and a vial of sand. Those were the two most important things aside from her blades. No reason not to bring those too. If she didn't need them, then fine. If not used, having them with her would help channel any runic magic she might use.

Before long, both parties arrived at the station, her ignoring any strange looks that might have been directed at her. Logic and strategy came as second nature.

They stepped through the ley-line...

And were immediate hit by white.

Snow was one thing. Both of them could handle that... but this was a full on blizzard. A chill rushed up her body the moment her feet sank into the snow, frigid winds biting against the uncovered parts of her body. This was bad. Very bad.

She was used to dealing with harsh winter weather... when she was undead. It was entirely another matter now that she was alive again. Mad worse by her weakened health. The leather was at least doing its job from not immediately getting soaked. If they didn't do something soon though, they were both going to freeze.

Salena's head snapped to the side when Artair called out to her, shivers already starting to wrack her body. A portal? Right. A gate. Her hand came up, feeling the way the runic magic moved through her. Gates were easy...

Unless you felt your power immediately cut off before it can finish.

A chopped snarl erupted from her throat. Ok, calm down. Assess the situation. Was it just the gates? Her eyes fell back on Artair, moving her feet through the snow to bring up some ice to at least block one direction of the roaring snow in the air. Same result. It was cut off before it could finish. Her snarl increased as she called back to him, "No good. It's like someone, or something has silenced me."

Her hood and mask was good at keeping the snow out of her face, so it would be best for her take temporary lead. She pushed over to Artair, keeping her voice a little loud so he could still hear her, "Our best option right now is to find some shelter, if not to wait out the storm, then to make a plan and see what we can figure out before freezing."

"Are there any known caves or landmarks here that you might know of?"

It is a fleeting relief, seeing the snow dusting Sal’s coat, but not melting on the touch. Wolves used to be something he watched documentaries on while he worked on things in the shop—their coats, called a pelage, has two layers. One is meant to keep the snow and wind and rain out, while the other-- the undercoat—insulates and traps air, to keep them warm in winter. He can feel a fraction of a shiver he’s sure is hers, but at least she wouldn’t freeze fast; seeing the snow on her fur refusing to melt might mean she has that same pelage as a worgen. And thank the fucking stars too. Fur like that could keep the snow and wind at bay, maintaining her vitals and warmth well below zero. Its why wolves could survive so well up north in the frozen tundras. And with her living in a place like Sweden, her winter coat would likely be sticking around from the colder climate. She had a lot wrong with her body, but she for sure has fur, and that can’t--- it can’t work the wrong way like some of her can. So maybe this wouldn’t be so rough on her, even if it was unpleasant.

He pushes away a circling thought. His heart squeezes in his chest with a surge of – something, he’s not sure what, and it’s not worth the time as another howling blast of algid air whips against the two of them. He hisses, watching Sal begin her moment for a gate. There’s a tingling, a sense of magic, a sense of her own, before—nothing. Numb. Fire along his neck and down his spine and tears in his eyes that don’t make sense. The air feels thinner than before, like he’s spinning, but he doesn’t even sway. Is it his? Ugh--- he can’t tell. But there’s an emptiness, a sense of nothing like a hole in his chest, and he doesn’t need to see the lack of gate to know it didn’t show like it was meant to.

Something had to be blocking the spell.

He nods at her reaching the same conclusion at likely the same moment, barely hearing her over the wailing storm. It doesn’t seem worth trying a spell of his own. Not in these conditions where he can barely see a foot in front of him and everything aches and burns, and not when he’s a novice at best: if Sal can’t do anything, he’s sure they’d get the same result.

He reaches into his pocket for his phone, fishing it out with red fingers and curling over it to see the screen. Snow already patters against it, leaving drops. He pulls the hood over his head to conserve what heat he can, rolling his shoulder as his eyes flick over the screen. The biggest issue was not knowing where they were in relation to anything else, but he could see a trail with at least a dozen shelters along it, likely for surprise storms, and the safety of hikers. There’s some kind of town at the bottom of the mountain, but they’d never make it that far--- but if they could reach the trail, they might be able to find shelter.

“I don’t know where we are.” He shouts, brushing the ice from his face. His cheeks hurt. “But I see a trail. No caves on the map but I’m sure there has to be some around. We could move and look for some kind of shelter for a few minutes, but if we can’t spot anything in this storm, I think we should build a snow-burrow.” The words sound familiar in his ears, like Byron is right behind him sharing one of his survival kernels of wisdom. “I’ll see if I can’t get us a good direction.”

Artair slips his phone into his bag and produces a compass instead, a tiny thing the size of a quarter in his hand. The mountain was north of the town at the base of it, so if they could head south---

The needle wobbles, then wiggles more sporadic, before spinning wild on its axis. A shake does nothing to cure his compass of the erratic movement-- the needle didn’t seem keen to stop, and picks up speed. His frown deepens, before he shoves it back in his bag. His voice drops a little, dipping with a cough, before he forces it loud enough to be legible again. “I--I guess we pick a random one to move in. Unless you can hear or smell something that could h-help.”

#rp #salena #talesofnovembria #Snowed In #chopping off the ask thing here! should be good to go now with my post trimmer :D #you're all good i think! it's pretty handwavey so there's no details out of place ^^#and i figured for the whistle and the vial since she's used them before but it's good to be sure we're on the same page #also maybe sal can smell smoke if the two made it to the place and are there atm!#ic Artair

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the-kaedageist · 2 years

Note

consecution lol, for the WIP asks? I think about those snippets a lot 😅

I have 67k of this fic, so it took me awhile to figure out what snippet I wanted to share! This is another slightly long one, so the rest is under the cut.

For the uninitiated, Yann Surefire is Caleb reborn and he is not aware of that fact - his memories are disjointed. Essek is going under the pseudonym of Imbros Vrinn and wears a Ring of Alter Self to maintain his disguise. Fiona is Jester's granddaughter and a lot of trouble, as any Lavorre would be. This whole futurefic is blatantly self-indulgent and I will not apologize.

This fic is approximately 45% done, and I’m attempting to finish it completely before I start posting it - but I might change my mind and start posting some of the earlier chapters like I’m doing for 2 Tusk 2 Love. I guess we’ll see!

If you want to read more snips from this, they’re all under this tag.

“Yann!” Fiona exclaimed as their visitor appeared in the doorway. “Esse—IMBROS. You didn’t tell me he was here!”

Essek shrugged. At that point, he wondered if he should just start going by his actual name, if Fiona was going to shout fragments of it every time she was caught off guard.

“Vrinn invited me for dinner,” Surefire said, glancing down at the pot in front of him. “You’re making soup? Can I help?”

Fiona’s eyes were way too amused – and way too bright – as she glanced over at Essek. “You cook?” she asked Yann delightedly. “Of course you can help!” She pulled a knife out of a block and handed it to Surefire handle-first. “Can you chop those vegetables? Imbros is just going to watch anyway.”

That was just uncalled for. “I offered to help you cook earlier,” Essek grumbled.

Fiona beamed over at him. “Do you want to help Yann chop vegetables?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. Essek realized abruptly that this had all been a plot against him, and Fiona Lavorre knew him entirely too well. “You can show him how to do it properly.”

He ignored the obvious innuendo in her statement and fetched a second knife from the block. Surefire had already produced a cutting board from somewhere – had he been in this kitchen before? – and was getting to chopping up an onion. The kitchen was not the largest, and Essek found the only remaining counter space was right next to Surefire; he gritted his teeth and searched for another board to cut on.

“This is the only one,” Surefire said apologetically, sliding the unused end of his own board towards Essek. “We can share. If you like?”

There was still something subdued about his expression; Essek didn’t like it. Perhaps that was what possessed him to accept Surefire’s offer and begin to slice a tomato on the opposite end of the board, standing so close that their arms brushed as they worked.

Surefire had a nice scent, one that Essek tried desperately not to breathe in as they quietly chopped vegetables next to one another. Even Fiona was quiet, chopping herbs on the opposite side of the stove.

“We had visitors today,” Surefire said suddenly. His voice was soft, barely loud enough to be heard by the two of them. Essek glanced to the side, but Surefire wasn’t watching him, staring instead at his own careful chopping. “Elves from Wildemount.”

Essek’s knife slipped, nicking the side of his finger. He hissed and stuck his finger in his mouth, a terrible habit he’d picked up from Caleb after years of cooking together.

Surefire finally looked over at him, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I cut myself,” Essek said crossly, casting about for a rag – he located one hanging from a hook near the sink and wrapped it carefully around his finger, pressing on it firmly to staunch the bleeding.

“Let me see that,” said Surefire, pulling Essek to him; they would have been standing nose to nose if Essek had been Surefire’s height. Not seeming to register their closeness, Surefire gently took Essek’s hand in his own, sliding the rag away and running his fingertips along the cut on the side of Essek’s finger. His touch was soft, and warm, and Essek felt a spike of heat run through him.

Surefire whispered a vocal component of some sort and green healing magic briefly enveloped Essek’s finger. When the light faded, his altered flesh was as good as new, unmarred by any cut.

“Better?” Surefire murmured, watching Essek with the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He continued to hold Essek’s hand in his own, absently running his fingers along the rings that decorated his fingers. “It can be useful, having a druid around.”

Essek’s brain was slightly addled from the combination of Surefire’s touch and his amused gaze. “Ah. Yes. Thank you?”

Behind them, Fiona poorly stifled a giggle. Surefire released Essek’s hand immediately, turning back to his chopping with a flush high on his cheeks.

Ask me about my wips! | Other responses

#my wips #wip game #critical role #shadowgast #consecution!au #yann surefire's reincarnation extravaganza #asks #also if you're wondering why I'm in the middle of two enormous wips that both feature not-caleb calebs #I wonder that too #they may be niche but I love them both so

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assassins-wasteland · 2 years

Text

Falloutober day 2: Dream

I’m gonna be working on these prompts well into November, but I’m determined to get this October challenge done if it’s the last thing I do.

Prompts by @falloutober

***

The sticky feeling of the dough between her fingers was awful but it was easier with him. His own hands rest gently on top of her much smaller ones carefully guiding the heel of her palms into warm and fluffy dough. He prepared it that morning with her. She got to mix the yeast.

Fold, push, fold, push, fold, push…

“I’m so bad at this,” Haseya huffs in frustration. The chair under her creeks at the shift of her weight. The man behind her chuckles and squeezes her shoulders. She doesn’t hear him speak, it’s just noise to her, but she almost understands it.

Praise. Encouragement. A peck on the cheek. He holds her hands again and urges her to continue. A name is on the tip of her tongue, not her own but one that was special.

Push, fold, push, fold, push, fold…

Perfect. Mouse? Bird? What was the special name? The name of an animal.

He pulls her hands away from the counter. Hands at your side while the grown up cuts. He picked up the knife and chops the perfectly kneaded dough into the same sized chunks. She needs to be a little older to help with this part, for now he’ll do it.

Haseya can see him fully now. Deep golden skin and long black hair just like hers pulled back into a hair tie at the base of his neck. His face was blurry like his voice was static. ‘I know you. I don’t remember you.’ She thinks. How can something feel so familiar and so foreign at the same time?

‘Who are you?’

On a pan he places the dough chunks side by side and pushes them to the other side of the counter to her left where dozens of other pans just like that one wait to be baked in the small oven. Enough bread to feed the settlement.

The man scoops her up and squeezes her tight. She still couldn’t hear the words but he was happy with her. She did good. Haseya helped keep the people fed.

Her feet find the ground again and the man releases her with a few more peppered kisses across her face.

Bunny. He called her Bunny.

***

It was the pain that pulled her from the dream, so strong she cried out. Between her palms she squeezes her head, her eyes twist shut. The pills are in the bag right next to her, she could reach it but if she lets go her head might burst, fuck, fuck, FUCK-

“I got you, Haz,” Raul says softly, a careful hand on her back to let her know he’s there.

He digs into the pocket of her pack and pulls out an old mint tin that rattles with every motion. Medication gifted to her from Doc Mitchell to help her cope with the migraines. As carefully as he could Raul pushes one pill into her mouth and holds her canteen to her lips.

As she lay back down on her bedroll Raul draped his own coat, the one she helped him learn to love again, over her head to block out the fire light and maybe deafen the sounds of its crackle and Boone’s snores. Not a word was shared between them as Haz writhed in pain at his side waiting for it to fade again. Raul occasionally rubbed her back. Just a reminder to her that he was still there.

Raul knew the pain she was in. How hard it is to function when it was at its worst. There wasn’t much he could do to ease her pain, but whatever she asked of him he’d do it in a heart beat. Haseya would so the same for him.

Finally the pain subsided to a dull ache. It still hurt but at least she could sit herself up again and let go of her head. She handed back his coat and replaced it with sunglasses.

“You alright?” He finally asked, making sure to keep his voice soft.

“Better now. Thank you for the help.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Silence fell over them again. The two watched the flames eat away at the wood just enjoying each other’s company. Raul didn’t want to ruin one of the few quiet moments the Mojave offered but he had to ask.

“What we’re you dreaming about?”

Haseya turned her head away from him. “Nothing,” she muttered.

“I doubt it was nothing. You were crying.”

“Just some old memories, tío.”

“Wanna talk about it?” She didn’t respond, retreating further into herself. “Whatever’s troubling you, I won’t tell a soul. This stays between you and me. At my age you learn it’s better to get the shit of your chest before it rots. Besides, you’ve heard plenty of my stories, it’d be nice to know some of yours.”

Haseya sighs and smiles, leaning to rest her head on Raul’s shoulder. She could never keep anything from him of all people. So she told him. Haseya recounted every detail she could remember from her dream while Raul sat there and just listened to her.

“Benny fractured my memories when he shot me,” she said, “Its not often but sometimes they come back to me in pieces except none of them fit together.”

“Not yet, at least,” Raul commented. “You keep getting pieces and eventually you’ll get one or two of them to match up.”

She hugs her knees to her chest, “Part of me doesn’t want them too. I wish the memories wouldn’t try to worm their way back into my mind. It’d just be easier that way.”

“And what happens to that part of you that you forget?”

Haseya tightens her fist. This wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. Those people in her past whose faces she can’t even remember are probably dead at best, taken by the Legion at worst. If they somehow have survived they’re waiting for her. Would they still accept her? Want her back? Haseya isn’t the same person she was, at least she doesn’t think she is. The Mojave is easier. The war is easier. Forgetting is easier.

Raul sighed, leaning his own weight into hers. “By the sounds of it, you had people. Maybe a family. The man you said was in your dreams, he might have been your dad. At the very least someone who took care of you. And when this whole Mojave war thing is done, if you want I’ll help you figure out what happened.”

At that she perked up, a look of surprise and a bit of confusion on her face. “You’d do that?”

“You kidding? Of course I would!” Raul said, playfully pushing her arm. “Mija, all the shit you got on your plate right now, the whole of Vegas riding on your actions, everything you’ve done for this little gaggle of assholes. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked.”

With narrow eyes and a chuckle, she shook her head. “You’ll follow me to the ends of the earth but still make me pay you to fix my guns?”

“Eh, maybe I’ll offer you the friends and family discount.”

#fallout #fallout new Vegas #fnv #courier six #courier 6 #raul tejada #fallout fic #falloutober2022 #Haseya #comfort #dreams #found family #raul is always in Haz’ corner

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dialovers-translations · 2 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Shin Maniac [04]

ー The scene starts in the kitchen of the Tsukinami manor

Yui: ( I guess this should do for the seasoning? ...Yeah, it’s good! )

*Pssh*

Yui: ( I wonder if Shin-kun and Carla-san are both still asleep? I feel like I should really treasure these sparse moments of ‘me-time’... )

( In the past, I used to often stand in the kitchen at night like this... )

ー Shin walks up to her

Shin: No wonder I thought I smelled something...So it’s you, huh?

Yui: ...Shin-kun.

Shin: No need to be that frightened. What are you doing here?

Yui: What, you ask? ...Well...I was feeling a little peckish...So I figured I’d make myself a late-night snack.

Shin: ...That’s not what I wanna knowー!

ー He pins her down

*Rustle*

*Cling*

Yui: Kyah...!?

Shin: I don’t give a damn about why you’re here cooking a meal.

I want to know what made you think you could just wander around without my permission?

Selection

→ I’m sorry... (M)

Yui: I’m sorry...

Shin: I don’t want to hear your apologies? I wonder if you’re just an idiot after all?

Yui: Uu...

...I figured it would be allowed since there’s nobody else at this manor...

Shin: Haah...

...You say that...But Nii-san lives here as well, remember?

Honestly, I’m no concerned about those stupid other humans in the slightest...

You still don’t understand that the real threat here is Nii-san, and nobody else...?

Anyway...It’s a pain when you wander around without my permission.

→ We’re not at school right now so I don’t see the problem? (S)

Yui: I’m being mindful not to act without permission while at school but...

We’re at home right now, and I haven’t gone outside just like you told me to...I figured this much would be allowed...

Shin: Hm. You’re going to talk back, huh? You’ve sure got some nerve.

Yui: I didn’t...mean to...

Shin: Your reasoning does not matter. Since you chose to oppose me...you must really want me to put you through hell, huh?

Yui: No...!

Shin: I wonder? It honestly seems like...

...you always try and look for ways to upset me.

Yui: ( I feel like he won’t listen to me, no matter what I say... )

( I suppose I should just genuinely apologize... )

Yui: ...I’m sorry.

Shin: Ahーah...I can’t believe you still don’t get the message after I made it so clear.

Perhaps I should just lock you up instead? Then you won’t be able to get out after all...What do you think?

Yui: Lock me up...!?

( I wouldn’t put it past him...! )

( I-I better run...! )

...Ugh.

ー Yui tries to get away

Shin: Hmー ...You wanna make a run for it? Guess that makes sense. However...

You really think...I’d let that happen!?

*SMACK*

Yui: Eek...!

( H-He threw a knife...at the wall...! )

Shin: Hehe. Your knees are trembling with fear it seems? But you’re to blame for upsetting me.

Ahーah. I’m sure my head would be on the chopping block if he found out I stabbed this knife into the wall...

I just hope the blade isn’t chipped...

*Woosh*

Yui: Wah...!

( Did the knife scratch the side of my face just now...!? )

Shin: This is the knife he uses to slice his cured ham, you see...

I heard the blade is incredibly sharp so...If you made any sudden movements, you might get sliced up as well, you know?

Look...Just like this...?

*Woosh*

Yui: ...! Cut it out...!

( Ah...My hair...! )

Shin: Haah...Shut up, won’t you? Could you not make a huge deal out of a few strands of hair?

But well...I guess this scares you, huh?

In that case...I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea to use this bad boy to tame you, so that you won’t ever wander around without my permission again?

Yui: No...Have mercy...

( Shin-kun...Why do you always do these kinds of things...? )

ー She closes her eyes

Yui: ( I wonder if I can never have a moment of peace again...? )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #shin tsukinami #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfshinmaniac4

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taughtdefense · 22 days

Text

YOU’VE BEEN SPIRALING AT AN ALARMING RATE SINCE THE REVEAL WENT EGREGIOUSLY WRONG. robby’s been pretty upset lately—not at you, thank void—but at the larusso’s & your other (former?) friends who’d called you a monster, or rejected you. tory’s been dead set on never trying to talk to amanda again, even if she did help her out in the past. miguel’d blocked mr. larusso’s number & has been avoiding a few others (namely, kenny) like the plague, even at dojo practices. a large part of you wants to curl up underneath your covers & shut the world out until everything blows over.

theo’s been doing frequent wellness checks on you, mostly on talia’s behalf, expertly disguised as visits from him & his children. but even though, you’d caught on immediately, you don’t have the heart to kick them out, or call theo out on it, even if you know what he’s doing… & he knows that you know. haley’s been trying to make you happier with cute drawings she’d made, ranging from colored pencils drawings to paintings, which tory hung up on the fridge. you might be a monster, but not that kind of monster, where you’d throw out stuff your essential niece made for you.

miguel’d mentioned to sam that maybe he’d would bring carmen over to look at the pictures, which would prove that you’re still the same ethan you’ve always been. the one who never gives up on his friends, who willingly approached him at the table on miguel’s first day of school & struck up a genuine conversation that made miguel feel like less of an outsider. shane threatened to bite mrs. larusso until she appolguyses for making you really sad (apologies; he had a fake set of werewolf teeth in his mouth when he’d told you, & he’s still pretty young) which you thought was pretty amusing given the alternate lifetimes where he’s a chimera. it was the first time you’d smiled in two days.

miguel is making you lunch because you’re still a little out of it, all things considered. it’s not that you don’t want to, but bobby, kevin, deanna, johnny, miguel & tory are all worried that if a typical kitchen accident happens—you drop a glass, you space out in the middle of chopping something & cut your finger, or burn your hand on a hot pan—it’d send you plummeting, that the spiral episode you’re deeply engaged in will get worse. shane & haley are looking at sam’s freshly done nail polish & trying to convince theo, liam & talia to let them paint angry faces on daniel’s forehead because he’s a meanie. it’s not working as well as they’d hoped, clearly, but both theo & liam look amused by the idea. liam is holding theo’s hand, occasionally glancing at you in concern. you’re pretending not to notice.

you’re curled up on the couch next to robby, never wanting to be apart from him again if you can help it, staring numbly at talia across from you with emotionless, exhausted eyes, having been dragged out of bed by her arrival. you’re wearing one of miguel’s hoodies. yesterday, you’d allowed haley to paint your nails a light purple color, & then half disassociated after you’d sat down at the kitchen table. you’d robotically responded to the six year old’s chatter, only giving short answers & half-enthused hums. you’d snapped out of your haze pretty much immediately when robby kissed you later in the evening, then felt extremely guilty. perhaps a little surprisingly, haley didn’t seem to mind your dissociative state, or your near-silence. she’s very smart.

❝ fine. so you're some monster. who gives a shit? ❞ @vipersunion asks. you blink at her once, not at all surprised by her bluntness. you’ve come to expect that from her. maybe it’s one of the reasons why her & nova are so compatible.

❝ apparently, practically everyone. ❞ you respond icily, not budging on the self-created idea that they’d—those that’d rejected/shunned you—ever want to see you as anything different. miguel winces like he was slapped, & tory grimaces, absentmindedly twisting her engagement ring two times. ❝ no offense, tals, but you weren’t there to see shit hit the fan y-yourself. you only got your information secondhand. ❞ hawk had been the one to tell her, grimacing the entire time.

#vipersunion #alt verse.: eldritch nature reveal. — ❝ the truth didn't set you free; it burdened everyone else! ❞

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mayhemproduces · 11 months

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BLADE vs Tom Lawlor

Feeling each other out, we can already see that we’re in for a technical war, bad blood aside, between two of the better technical wrestlers in MPW. They start off on the mat, Blade getting an armbar, but Tom keeps his hands locked together. They jockey for position, Tom getting out of the armbar but back on his back, holding Blade’s wrists as he lifts her up with his feet, before dropping her and trying an armbar of his own. Blade blocks it and nearly rolls Tom onto his shoulders, and breaks the armbar, getting a heel hook. Tom rolls to his side and grabs an arm, nearly snapping back into an armbar! Blade quickly closes the distance and locks her hands, getting behind Lawlor in the process. She scoops him up by the waist, and plants him with a German suplex!

Back on their feet, Blade has possession of the left arm, yanking on it, before Lawlor brings them back to the mat. He has both of Blade’s legs wrapped around his, and tries to turn them over for a submission, but they’re both able to apply a Heel Hook! Stuck between wanting to apply one of their own, and needing to break the hold applied to them, so they start slapping the hell out of each other! A good thirty seconds pass before either one falters, with Lawlor putting Blade on her back, and wrenching in the Heel Hook. Blade counters with one of her own, and slaps Tom across the face - and then they slap each other! They’re both down!

Back on their feet, Blade opens herself up for a chop - and gets blasted by Lawlor! Blade is put on the mat, holding her chest, as Tom licks the back of his hand. Blade gets to her feet, telling him that chop was just so-so, and Tom asks for her best, and she delivers it in the form of an uppercut. Lawlor also hits an uppercut, and Blade hits another uppercut. Forearm from Tom, and another uppercut from Blade. Rinse and repeat, but Tom gets a chop after taking another uppercut. Several chops land to put Blade down in the corner, and Tom charges at her, but Blade moves and hits an arm wringer, snapping Tom’s shoulder to the mat! Manipulating and hyper extending the arm as she twists the wrist, bending the elbow in an uncomfortable angle, before she puts the palm against the mat, and steps on the arm! Tom cries in agony, as Blade might’ve just broken his arm!

Still, Lawlor gets back to his feet and chops away at Blade’s legs with low, hard kicks, but Blade chops him down with a big kick to the face. It looks like there might be a bit of blood coming out of Tom’s nose after that one. Blade sizes him up, and Lawlor hits a forearm. Two more lands before Blade is sent to the ropes, and she nails a bicycle kick, but Lawlor doesn’t go down! He grabs Blade by the back of the head and lights her up with forearm after forearm, enough to knock any sane man down, but Blade has spent too much time with Josh Bishop, and stays on her feet. Retaliating that onslaught of forearms with an uppercut! She goes for a couple of elbows but gets dodged both times, before Tom knocks her down with a BIG chop! Blade sprawled on the mat, and Tom picked her up, tossing her across the ring with a big T-Bone suplex!

With Blade up in the corner, Tom sizes her up before hitting a big diving shoulder thrust, nearly cutting her in half, before planting her with an overhead suplex. Lawlor covers!

1…. 2… kickout!

Only two for Tom, and he comes up swinging his arm, sizing Blade up for a kick - but she ducks! She ducks and grabs the ankle, rolling Tom over so she can jump to her feet, and nail him with a PK! Blade comes up holding her ankle on that one, but Tom is down for the moment. She doesn’t waste any time continuing to attack. Arm wrench on the shoulder she dropped earlier, but Tom lands a forearm. Still, Blade doesn’t let go, and tries to again, trying to bend the elbow, but Tom lands a few more forearms. She lets go, but tries to land a Pele kick on the shoulder - but Tom catches her in an Ankle Lock! She rolls through, kicking Lawlor off her and locking in a Kimura! Tom breaks it by rolling through, nearly getting a Rear Naked Choke, but Blade slides out of it. Tom gets another submission locked in, having one arm pinned to the mat, slapping Blade’s side to loosen the other arm to pull it back. Blade can’t fight it off and instead rolls through. They roll around the mat before Blade has both of Tom’s arms twisted up like a pretzel, and Tom has to roll them to the ropes to force a stoppage!

Back on their feet, Blade hits a shoot kick. Lawlor tries to follow up with an enzuigiri, but Blade ducks! Tom lands flat on his stomach, and Blade sinks her feet into his sides to roll him over, trying to get a deep pin to finish this quickly - but Tom turns it into a Rear Naked Choke! Blade is fading, and fading fast, her face starting to turn red…. But she rolls to the ropes, putting her feet on it to break the Choke. Tom holds on for as long as he can, but has to break at the referee’s four and a half. Tom looks a bit frustrated as he brings Blade over to the corner. With his arms wrapped around her, Tom pushes off the ropes for a tornado DDT, but turns it into a Guillotine at the last second! Using all that momentum to capture Blade in a brutal submission, the Chosen One is quickly fading. She’s able to stay on her feet though, and dumps Tom with a major X-Plex! Tom crashes hard on his back, and Blade is staggered on unsteady legs, and nearly takes Tom’s head off with a step-up knee strike!

Sizing Lawlor up, Blade wants another shoot kick, but after two hit, Lawlor grabs the third. He stands up, holding onto the leg, as Blade literally slaps the sweat off him. Lawlor releases the leg but nails Blade with alternating forearms, swatting at her jaw with his left and right arms, before knocking her down with a bicycle knee strike! Blade drops to her knees and falls to her feet, and Lawlor sizes her up, finishing her off with a buzzsaw to the side of the head! Lawlor covers!

1… 2… Kickout!

Only two, and Lawlor keeps the pace up, picking Blade up, but she reverses into a Kimura Lock! Lawlor cries in pain but he’s able to turn it around, dumping Blade with a Michinoku Driver! He crosses the arms, wanting to hit a brutal knee to the back of the head, but Blade blocks it and turns it into a quick pin attempt!

1….

Tom turns it into another pin attempt!

1… 2… Blade reverses back! 1…. 2… Tom reverses back! 1…. 2… Blade reverses back! 1… 2… Kickout! Tom springs to his feet and rolls Blade up DEEP to steal this!

1… 2… Kickout!

Blade knows he got close there, but as they get to their feet, Tom hits a boot and gets La Magistral!

1… 2… Kickout!

Blade gets out and rolls Tom into a Japanese Leg Clutch!

1…. 2… 3!!

“Here is your winner, BLADE!”

Blade steals the match after that incredible back and forth!

#match

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pred1059 · 1 year

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Just A Chance Chapter Three

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Secret Report: Axel I

This job got a whole lot more complicated.

Marluxia and Larxene made a power move to bring Roxas along to C.O. Are they going to use him as a hostage, in case I try to attack? Were they going to bring him in on their little plan?

Doesn’t matter. Roxas is the Organization’s Ace in the Hole. Naminé’s powers shouldn’t cause a problem for the kid...in the long run at least. But I need him alive. If anything happens to him, my head’s on the chopping block.

Dead traitors or not.

Roxas had made his way through Traverse Town, heartless after heartless falling before him. No doubt at the same pace Sora was cutting through the same set of memories. But of the two, Naminé was a bit more interested in the former. Even if the original plan Marluxia and Larxene laid out would have worked, Sora wouldn’t see her. He’d just be seeing Kairi with her image laid over. And sooner or later it would fall apart.

But Roxas? He wanted to know if she was okay. Showed concern for her condition. Honestly, he was the only member of the Organization that had shown her any sort of care. Because Roxas was right. Even if she had a transitory existence with illusory feelings, she still felt pain. And his kindness helped to assuage it, even if it was only a little.

So rather than watch the hero who was fighting his way through the castle for his friends, she watched the boy who fought for his life. The one who actually saw her, and not some false reflection.

She gasped as a stray shadow caught Roxas by surprise, knocking him over. She reached out to touch the globe, wishing somehow her hand might pass through to help him to his feet.

A swirl of darkness, “And just what are you doing?”

“Just…” She stiffened at Larxene’s voice and retracted her arm, “checking on Roxas.” She relaxed as she saw him get to his feet and fight off the creature that had hit him.

Larxene crossed her arms, “Is that really any of your business?”

Fidgeting, Naminé replied, “If he falls, then I need to get back to the old plan.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” With a wave of her hand, Sora’s image replaced Roxas’ on the crystal ball, “You just sit right there and work on Sora’s memories.”

“Yes. Of course.” Naminé responded, and began to work on inserting the idea, the concept of a forgotten friend in his head.

As fruitless as the endeavor would eventually be.

Another dark portal, but this time it wasn’t Marluxia joining his comrade. Instead, Axel strolled up to the crystal ball, “So, the hero’s here? Should I go down and test him? Make sure he’s not too messed up”

Larxene shook her head, “No, your job is to stall him.” At Axel’s raised eyebrow, she continued, “Sora's keeping his powers because if he gets drained, Roxas goes into a coma.” With a wave, Larxene brought an image of the boy fighting a man in a black jacket wielding a gunblade into view, “The good news is that the kid was smart enough to come up with a new plan.” Roxas got a few hits in on his attacker as Larxene continued, “Use Sora’s memories to train him up. Then we see which one’s stronger.” A slash from the gunblade ripping through the boy’s cloak caused her to groan in annoyance, “Ugh...Though from the looks of things.”

Axel tapped his chin, as he watched Roxas try to regain the advantage. Breaking his limits, columns of light short forth from the boy to injure his assailant. While some of them hit the target, the man seemed undeterred. Axel shook his head, “He’s not doing a great job. This guy is way stronger than he is. If Roxas can’t beat someone this early in Sora’s—”

Naminé spoke up, “Actually, Sora couldn’t beat Leon either at this point.”

Larxene crossed her arms in annoyance and glared at the girl, "Well that would’ve been nice to know Naminé.”

At this, Axel smiled as he began to make an offer, “Listen Larxene, How about I look over things from here and you stall Sora. Besides, you look like you could use some stress relief.”

As she pondered the suggestion, Larxene slowly began to smile, “You know what? You’re right. I could use the fun of beating up a brat.” And with that, she vanished into the dark portal.

Axel resumed watching the end of Roxas’ duel with Leon. Albeit an anticlimactic one as a final spell from the gunblade knocked the boy unconscious. Stoically, Leon went to sling Roxas over his shoulder. Axel turned to Naminé, “So that’s supposed to happen?”

Naminé nodded, “Yes, when he woke up Leon and his friends told Sora all about the Keyblade.”

“Something we’ve already covered,” Axel rolled his eyes, then began to smile, “Now Naminé, correct me if I’m wrong, but Sora had some help on his journey, right?” She gave a confused look back till Axel continued, “Can you change a few things for when he wakes up? Give us privacy?”

A moment passed as Naminé began to understand the train of thought, then she answered, “Yes, that should be easy.”

“Perfect.” Axel smirked as he vanished into the dark portal

A moment passed. Naminé reached for the crystal ball, and with a gesture shifted the image to Roxas as he laid in a bed to rest. With practiced ease, she removed the figments of Leon and his friends from the memory Roxas resided in. As Axel set a chair beside the bed to wait, Naminé picked up a notebook from the bottom of blank ones provided to her. On the first sheet behind the cover she began to draw. Sweeping strokes of black crayon became a cloak. Yellow and blue became hair and eyes on a face. And in the drawn Roxas’ hand a Keyblade took shape. Looking over her handiwork, Naminé began to smile. But then, she glanced back towards the notepad with Sora’s picture.

She sighed. Was there any point in placing her hopes anywhere besides where Marluxia and Larxene dictated?

She slowly re-covered the notebook and shuffled it back into the pile. She turned back to the crystal ball, ready to return to watching Sora.

Although...she could watch Roxas for a little longer.

Dark.

Roxas was fighting before but now…

Dark. Dark all around.

*Ri__ __nd shi__ __as.”

Then the sound of waves.

A boy with brown hair. He knew him. Sora.

A boy with silver hair.

A girl with red hair.

”H__, You goin_ __ sleep a__ __y?”

Wait…

Naminé was here?

When was she—

“Wake up Roxas!”

The shout caused him to sit up straight and look all around, until Roxas’ eyes fell on a familiar face, “Axel?”

From the chair sat next to his bed, his senior in the Organization chuckled, "Looks like you took a beating. Not to mention you being put in the hot seat."

Roxas pivoted so that he sat on the bed’s edge, “Yeah, I guess you heard what happened. Though I don’t understand all of it.” He furrowed his brow as one particular question came to the forefront of his mind, “Axel...who is Sora, and why is he connected to me?”

Axel winced as he scratched his head, “Yeesh. Give a guy a chance to warm up with some easier questions why dontcha? The short version is that he’s the person you originally came from as a Nobody.”

Where he was from? Like the person that originally lost their heart?

But everyone talked like Sora was still alive.

Suddenly it felt like the floor was falling away from Roxas. He paled as began to realize, “But if I'm here, and Sora has his body?”

Axel shook his head “I don't know. Nobody knows, not even the people at the top.”

His mind began to lurch, “If Nobodies are nothing...and I’m less than that!” Roxas shook, eyes wide, “Why am I here?!”

Axel shrugged. “Hey, the bosses think you’re close enough to be one of us. And besides. You’ve got the Keyblade right?” Roxas gave a shake nod, and in response Axel smiled. “Then that certainly isn’t less than nothing, right?”

Roxas’ breath began to steady, “Yeah...you’re right.” He slowly stood up, “It doesn't matter where I came from. I'll fight through Sora's memories and be strong enough that they won't put me under.”

“Woah there.” Axel held out his hands to calm Roxas, “You sure you want to do this all by yourself? Because Sora had to fight his way through with some help.” He held out his hand to the boy, “How about it? Mind if I lend a hand on your journey?”

Roxas was slightly surprised, but soon his eyes narrowed at the offer, “You sure that’s not going to make me look bad?”

“Nah. The Organization has a shared goal, remember?” Axel smiled as he reassured him, slowly moving his hand closer as he spoke, “Besides, we're friends, after all.”

Roxas looked at the hand, and then reached out to shake it, “Yeah. We’re friends.” But then he began to realize a slight problem.

He had no idea where to go. “Um...what's next?”

“Well usually a horde of heartless like this has a pretty big leader, and taking it out causes them all to run.” Axel jerked a thumb at one of the doors, “Mind taking the lead?”

And so the familiar routine began again. Keyblade in hand he fought the heartless. A few slashes to take out some of the soldiers, magic to fight whatever color heartless was weak to it. But it didn’t mean anything. Without taking out the boss, they’d just keep coming. He’d wandered all over town before running into the man with the gunblade.

Well, not exactly. There was one area that had been locked off…

What about now? “This way!” He called to Axel as he ran across the courtyard to the alleyway. A chakram whizzed by Roxas’ ear towards the heartless blocking the way. As they vanished into vapor, Roxas barged into the door once again. But this time it gave way, and he found himself in a well lit plaza, a fountain in the corner. “I think the Heartless we’re looking for is somewhere around—”

*SLAM*

“Here.” In front of Roxas and Axel, a massive Heartless armor towered over the two of them. Immediately Roxas rolled away from the gauntlet that was being brought down on his head.

Dashing towards the armor’s legs, he began to slice at iron boots the torso floated over. But as he hacked away at the Heartless, the opposite leg began to rise.

“Watch it! Back off!” Axel shouted, but it was too late a warning. The shockwave as it slammed into the ground knocked Roxas away from the heartless.

Roxas rose to his feet, injured, but undeterred. This time, he took aim and called out, “Flame!” At his command a fireball shot from the keyblade and took out the Leg he had attacked earlier. As it vanished into dust, Roxas saw one of the other gauntlets hurtling towards him. But a flaming chakram intersected it, knocking the limb away.

“All clear!!! Now let him have it!”

Nodding to Axel, Roxas rushed toward the deflected part of the heartless, and sliced it till it evaporated as well. Wobbling but undeterred, the Guard armor began to fling it’s remaining appendages toward Roxas. This time however, he was ready. He parried the gauntlet away, while rolling from the boot trying to smash him into paste, he rushed towards the main torso and whaled away at it. But then he noticed the limb’s move again. Not towards him, but towards Axel. “Not this time! Fire!” Another gout of flame blasted away the gauntlet into nothingness, leaving Axel plenty of room to sidestep the boot and slice it into pieces.

Satisfied, Roxas turned to the trembling torso, and resumed his assault. And before long, it too evaporated, a heart released from its innards.

Dismissing the keyblade Roxas looked at Axel somewhat sheepishly, scratching his head, “So...I lost to someone earlier. But I won here. Is that good enough?”

In response, Axel chuckled, “Hey, from what I hear it was good enough for Sora. I’d say you’re fine for today.”

Relaxing, Roxas smiled, “Thanks. Want to…” but his cheer vanished as he remembered that what his assignment at Castle Oblivion had denied them access to. “Oh, I don’t think there’s sea salt ice cream here, is there?”

“Yeah, we’re out of luck. Didn’t expect you to be here. Otherwise I’d have stocked up.” Axel gestured and opened a door to darkness, “Still, dinner should be good.”

Roxas nodded, just glad that he was able to survive the first day of Sora’s journey.

And that he’d earned his nightly meal.

#my fanfiction #KH Fanfiction #Kingdom Hearts #fanfiction #fanfic #what if #Just A Chance #roxas x namine #roxas/namine #rokunami #roxas #namine #axel #kh axel #larxene

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peaamlipoetrydoctor · 2 years

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Revisiting The Sealey Challenge 2021 ~ 7

I came across Charlotte Mew during the first London lockdown. Not on a bookshelf but by walking past the blue plaque on her childhood home in Mecklenburgh Square. A double-take (because I "didn't know there were female poets in the 19th Century in England" - other than the female writers famous as novelists who, I conceded, might also have dabbled with verse). I'm repeatedly confounded by my brain's persistence in starting from a position that if I didn't already know about something, then it never happened. It seems to be a mirror of the repeating surprise I get when I go for a walk and find that a dog I KNOW I encountered last time wasn't there when I went back. Clearly I can distinguish between "landscape features" - say, a tree - and "temporary occupants" of the landscape. But somewhere inside my mapping function, a bit of my brain simply records that those features were present, without making a clear distinction.

So it's a repeating refrain of "of but - ah, of course" when I walk a route (any route? not sure) for the second time. And in fact, the echo can be quite persistent - my brain not persuaded to delete the dog from the location file simply because I failed to re-encounter it.

So, I looked up Charlotte Mew - and didn't really get on particularly well with what I think was her most famous poem in her lifetime (?) - The Farmer's Bride - but did find resonance in The Trees are Down:

Informally, the poem resonated because I could - ALMOST - place the street where this must have been happening. Only almost because I believe this was the view from Mew's later home in Gordon Square, which I haven't taken the time to identify. But only a couple of streets away from the Blue Plaque house - oh, on reflection, I think it's in the part of the square which turns into Doughty Street. (Yes, one of the streets that Dickens lived on - the Dickens museum is in the next block along, south of the intervening road junction.)

It resonated because from the start of my regular walks in London - let's say, 2017 - the London Plane trees have been my plant heroes. Like the Marvel Superheroes of the London park scene.

The idea that a developer could - just decide to chop down an entire street's length of mature trees... seems like vandalism by my values but was surely consistent with a value system that actively coded humans to be allowed to consume everything else in nature for our own benefit. I mean, that's how the Genesis story is coded in Victorian capitalism, right? That Adam had dominion over the natural world* and could farm it (/use it up) as "he" saw fit.

[*See also, women, people of colour, children, poor people... ]

Returning to the poem itself, here's a formal guide by Molly Peacock:

Does it make a difference to me that Mew had a rather genteel-tragic life? Shamefully, there's a kind of ghoulish energy about that. A kind of "it could have been me"? (Of course it couldn't have been - in this scenario in Victorian and Georgian Britain, I would have been the present in the household only as scullery maid, if I was there at all.)

Wikipedia says -

British writer Charlotte Mew was born in London in 1869 into a family of seven children; she was the eldest daughter. While she was still a child, three of her brothers died. Later, another brother and then a sister were committed to psychiatric hospitals, where they would spend the rest of their lives.

And here's The Guardian's review of the biography of Charlotte Mew by Julia Copus published in 2021:

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fernweh-writes · 3 years

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You could ask my question, if possible, of course. With the Slachers (Michael, Jason, Brahms, Vincent and Bo) with her beloved looking innocent and even angelic, but she is extremely jealous and possessive when a victim or survivor flirts with her slachers to the point of saying something in context: " he is mine !!" (while the reader embraces Slachers). What would be the reaction of the slachers, about the corpotamento of his beloved?

I don’t write for Jason, sorry but I can definitely do the rest. Since I don’t write for many slashers, with requests like this one I usually do a little snippet for all of the slashers I do write for. But I like this idea a lot so without further ado…

P.S. this took me so much longer than I expected, I definitely got a little invested in these lol. I left out Thomas and Jesse but I may go back and add them at a later time idk yet.

-Fern🌿

Slashers x Possessive S/O

Michael Meyers

Your innocent and kind nature would be one of the things that made Michael interested in you. You were the first person to take the time to actually figure him out rather than checking him off as Evil™️ and treating him as such. He also likes the fact that he can easily make you flustered, it feeds his need for control. Knowing that he can simply press himself against you and leave you blushing both pleases and amuses him.

We all know that Michael is very possessive. He often stalks you while you’re at work or out in town running errands. At this point, it’s no longer because he feels the need to be predatory, he’s just making sure that what’s his is safe from any harm.

One night you had decided to go out with a few friends, which Michael wasn’t very excited about, but eventually he allowed it. It was one of those busy clubs/bars that had opened recently, so of course the place was crowded. This left Michael with no choice but to ditch the mask while he followed you, another thing he wasn’t happy about.

He ended up sitting on the other side of the place by himself with his eyes glued to you. He didn’t like you being around so many people. Michael was so focused on watching you that he had barely even noticed the woman walk up and make herself cozy in the seat opposite of him. Now his attention was on her while she grinned at him like the Cheshire Cat, pushing her cleavage together to make it more apparent in her already low cut dress.

Michael could’ve sworn that you had teleported, after all he had only take his eyes off of you for a second. Now you had your arms wrapped around him with your head resting on his neck. “Can we help you,” you asked the girl in front of you. Michael had never heard your voice sound so cold.

The girl began to twirl her hair, not deterred by the fact that you were running your hands over Michael. “I was just wondering what such a handsome man was doing here all by himself,” she purred. She attempted to reach forward and grab his hand but you were quick to smack it away before Michael could even move.

“He’s not here by himself he’s with me. And if I were you I would keep your hands to yourself and away from what’s mine.” After you said that it didn’t take long for Michael to drag you back home. To him it was your way of saying that you were in fact a permanent part of Michaels life. Plus you threatening someone when you’re usually so polite was a change of pace that left Michael wanting. You can definitely expect the girl to turn up missing on the news soon after that night as well.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms adored your innocence and kindness. You never hesitated to follow the rules and care for him, which is why he kept you around. After all he needs a nanny that is actually going to take care of him. Brahms also had an easy time revealing himself to you since after the initial shock of it all you were delighted to find out you weren’t being haunted and that you weren’t in a huge countryside mansion all by yourself.

Seeing as Brahms is a major introvert and goes absolutely feral if there’s someone new in his house that he hasn’t allowed you usually have nothing to worry about. However, suppose something happens where Malcolm has to leave for a few weeks, meaning that a new girl is assigned to deliver the groceries until Malcolm returns.

You were in the kitchen chopping up ingredients for lunch when she arrived for the first time. You had to admit that she was pretty, she was tall and athletic looking with perfect curls. It was hard for you to not notice that she was blonde, Brahms had a thing for blondes…

“So Malcolm told me that Brahms isn’t dead or a ghost, is that right?” You didn’t like the fact Malcolm had told this random girl about Brahms but you muttered in agreement anyways. She helped you put up the rest of the groceries in silence, not speaking again until she had opened the door to leave. “So is he hot? Usually people with this much money that aren’t old are always hot. If he is I might just have to stick around for a little while longer.”

That struck a nerve. “He’s not available,” you said sharply and she faltered. “What do you mean?” It was easy to tell she hadn’t expected that kind of answer, much less the attitude you had suddenly adopted. “He isn’t single. So although he is hot, trust me, I would know, you can’t have him. He’s mine.” She quickly apologized and left, slamming the door shut behind her. You could also hear Brahms moving around in the walls nearby, letting you know he must have heard everything.

Shortly after you found Brahms wrapped around you while you finished making lunch. “So now I’m yours hmm?” You could hear the amusement in his voice. You turned and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss, one hand finding it’s way into his hair. After pulling away you told him, “You’ve always been mine Brahmsy. My good boy.” He let out a small whine at your praise, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Vincent Sinclair

You were Vincent’s muse. He absolutely adored you from the way you acted to the way you looked. To him there was no aspect of you that wasn’t perfect. In other words he was absolutely obsessed with you. After all, you did take care of him and even helped Bo keep Ambrose up and running.

It’s no secret that Vincent was shy, but he was definitely intimidating as well. So you knew that the girl in front of him that was doing a terrible job of flirting was only doing so in a poor attempt to make it out alive. Still, watching her twirl her hair and smile at him made something inside of you snap.

“Come on handsome, you got to want some kind of company. I’m sure you’re so lonely here all by yourself… I could help with that.” She attempted to touch his chest but you grabbed her before she could. “Sorry,” you told her as you held both of her arms behind her back, “he already has someone keeping his bed warm. Didn’t your mother ever to tell you not to touch things that belong to other people?”

Vincent made quick work of knocking the girl out and carrying her down to the workshop. However, after dwelling on the thought he decided to just let Lester dispose of her body. He didn’t want to make you angry by turning her into a permanent wax figure for the town. Doesn’t mean that he won’t allow her to regain consciousness before killing her though, after all she needs to know her place.

Later on Vincent will make sure you never forget that he is yours the same way that you’re his. You can probably expect to have some trouble moving around the next day as well.

Bo Sinclair

Everyone knows that Bo is a major flirt. He enjoys watching the girls throw themselves at him, he just blames it on his “southern charm.” Although, he usually keeps you safely tucked up into the house whenever victims stumble into town. After all, “I can’t have my sweet angel in harms way now, can I?”

You never dwelled on how Bo dealt with victims, that was his business. Sure he had flirted with you a lot when you first showed up. Even now he was heavy on flirting and making inappropriate comments all the time. It was one of the things that made him Bo after all. So walking into his shop unaware of the newest batch of victims in town was a shock for you. Well not so much the victim part, it was finding Bo flirting with the girl leaning over the counter to display her cleavage that pissed you off.

She was smiling and blushing like she had a high school crush on the man in front of her. Not to mention Bo was unashamedly staring at everything she was flaunting. So yeah you were pissed, especially since he didn’t even seem to notice you were there. You quickly remembered the lunch you were holding in your hand, your reason for coming down here, and decided to use it to your advantage.

Instead of saying anything you just walked up behind him, setting his lunch on the counter right in front of the girl, effectively blocking his view of her boobs before wrapping your arms around him. Bo still didn’t shut up and acknowledge you so you decided to interrupt. “I brought you lunch baby.” The use of a pet name quickly made the girl Bo was flirting with falter.

“Oh, uhm, is this your girlfriend or something?” Before Bo could jump in you answered her. “Or something, I guess you could say. After all, he is my husband.” You looked up at Bo with the most lovesick expression you could put on your face as you pulled him in for a kiss. One kiss turned to two, to three, to a whole make out session in front of the poor girl. Bo’s hands began to roam around your body as well, making sure to squeeze all of his favorite parts of you.

When the two of you broke apart the girl was gone but Bo didn’t seem to notice. He was still to busy feeling you up. “Have I ever told you how fuckin’ sexy you are when you’re jealous? I’d never have guessed you had a possessive side to you angel.” You smiled knowing you now had his full attention, “Well surprise.”

He kissed you one more time, long and hard. “I promise we’ll continue this later up at the house. But right now I gotta go find that bitch n’ kill ‘er. You better be waitin’ on me when I get home darlin’.”

Billy Loomis

Billy was highly sought after by many girls due to his bad boy reputation. He always had girls throwing themselves at him wanting to be the one to fix him. You knew you didn’t have to worry, Billy wouldn’t leave you for someone else. He made it very clear that you were permanent. But still you couldn’t help but be irritated when they would flirt with him right in front of you.

You two were planning a movie night which meant a trip down to the video store. Apparently, Randy had the night off because some new girl was behind the counter. When the two of you first arrived she had been reading a magazine, not caring about the handful of people milling about. That was until she noticed Billy, not seeming to care that you were wrapped around his arm. She was watching him like a hawk.

You shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way she was staring down your boyfriend. Billy was observant and quickly noticed your discomfort. “Don’t worry about her babe, you know you’re the only person I’m into.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him, “Now, do you want to watch Friday the 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street?” You groaned, “Billy we’ve seen both of those movies a million times.” He smiled and held up Nightmare on Elm Street, “Well now we can watch this one and make it one million and one times.”

You rolled your eyes as he drug you to the checkout counter. The employee quickly perked up when she noticed Billy. “Will this be all for you hun?” She asked completely ignoring you. She didn’t even look down at what movie Billy had set on the counter before saying, “You have good taste, this is like one of my favorite movies ever. It’s a shame your little girlfriend doesn’t seem to like it though.”

“Cool, so who’s the main character?” You knew exactly what Billy was trying to do, elbowing him lightly. “Oh, uhm,” she finally looked down at the case, eyes lighting up, “oh, yeah it’s that really scarred dude!” Billy rolled his eyes, “No shit, what’s his name though.” You decided to have pity on the girl, “Ignore him, he’s a horror movie fanatic.” The girl mumbled, “Yeah no kidding.”

You smiled at Billy, using this as your chance to brag on the fact he’s yours. You knew him like no one else did. “He’s such a dork when it comes to the cinematography of these things but he’s my dork.” Billy hugged you from behind, “Yeah, whatever, you know you love me.”

Stu Macher

Stu absolutely loved throwing huge parties at his house. He was well liked and well known so it wasn’t unusual for a lot of people to show up, many of which you didn’t even know. Because so many people knew Stu, it also meant that they knew his family was pretty wealthy. It was pretty common to find girls hitting on him and since Stu loved attention he was prone to playfully flirting back.

Usually you would hang out with your friends during these parties, not being big on socializing with new people. Most of the time you didn’t worry about Stu wandering off, he would always show up at your side again at some point. Half the time when he would reappear you would have to pry him back off of you. He could be quite handsy at times.

Now the party was winding down and mostly everyone left was on the couch getting ready to watch a movie. You excused yourself, and headed to the kitchen to get another drink. You froze when you saw a girl running her hands all over Stu, he wasn’t making any move to push her away. You decided to help him out with that.

“Do you need something,” you asked her as Stu wrapped himself around you. “Are you his girlfriend?” Stu laughed, hopping up onto the counter. He pulled you up onto his lap, “Yeah she is dude. Isn’t she hot?” The girl scoffed, “Don’t you think that she’s a little… beneath you, Stu?”

That set you off. “I think that slutty little bitches like you need to keep your dirty hands away from what’s mine.” The girl rolled her eyes before storming out of the kitchen. You hopped out of Stu’s lap and turned to face him. “If you let mother whore rub all up on you like that again so help me I will be the next one to commit a murder in this house. Understand?” Stu stopped smiling, his goofy personality faltering for a second. He then saluted, “Yes ma’am.” You nodded. “Good.”

Stu jumped down and threw you over his shoulder, causing you to yelp. “You look extra hot when you’re fighting over me babe.” He quickly climbed the stairs and you pounded against his back. “You’re going the wrong way, the movie is downstairs.” He made it quickly to the bedroom, throwing you down on the king size bed with a huge grin. “We can make our own movie babe. I don’t know about you but I’m thinking romance,” he rambled, crawling on top of you. “Rated R of course.”

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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

Text

Dennis

Notes: No one asked for this. was inspired this thread. LOL. Also Chris Evans Debuts Trailer for New Movie DENNIS

Summary: A broken pathetic shell of a man with nothing to live for.

Warning: 18+ only please, forced fingering, non con, rape, Dark themes

Dark Dennis Baker x Reader

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6:00 A.M.

Dennis hated waking up. Though he was married whenever he arose and reached over to his wife's side of the bed it was always cold. It didn't used to be this way. Not too long ago he would wake to find her snuggling into him, but now it was as if he was a single man all over again.

Scrubbing his hands over his face as he sat on the edge of the bed he wondered where his wife was this time. At some point after he was laid off she started changing. Working out more, staying out more, sleeping over at her sisters for reasons she never made clear to him.

Walking over to the closet Dennis retrieved his uniform, laying it on top of the bed, neatly. The gawd awful pink retail shirt, unflattering khaki pants, with the leather belt and penny loafers made him internally groan at the sight each morning.

As the steam dissipated from the shower Dennis mindlessly stared at his own reflection. Dread poured over him the closer it got time for him to leave for work. This job was a far cry from his former one as Head of IT. A major data breach ruined his career in the tech field. Despite his best efforts to prevent the cyber attack his warnings went unheeded, sighting unnecessary cost for the infrastructure. And when the inevitable happened his neck was brought to the chopping block.

With that blemish on his record it was hard to get another job of similar note with this infraction hanging over his head. Now reduced to technical expert at Betsy's Computer store. A glorified titled for a retail worker that pushed more PS5's than actual technical support.

With the drop in title so did the salary. The mortgage, car note and other bills began piling up on top of each other. Credit cards were starting to hit their own limit, all contributing to his physical and mental decline.

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7:00 A.M.

As he began dressing he heard a faint sound coming from down stairs. Tucking in his shirt as he left the bedroom he heard the rare sound of his wife, Sarah. She was talking cheerfully to someone he hoped would be her sister. When he entered the archway his heart sank as she quieted herself, her mood fully changed before slipping her cell into her pocket.

Quickly she picked up a dish that contained scraps of some healthy meal that she only made for herself. Rinsing it off at the sink as Dennis approached her from behind.

Leaning over Dennis tried to kiss her cheek, but swiftly Sarah pulled away. “Ugh!”

"What's wrong?" He knew, but he had to hear it.

"You have a bad penis?" she answered before leaving him alone in the kitchen as he bottled up the hurt as he always did. Tucking away the insult and then burying it deep.

Dennis's erectile dysfunction was just the cherry on his shit cake. He had seen several doctors. All prescribed this or that, but nothing worked. The lack of intimacy helped to further wreck havoc on his marriage.

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8:00 A.M.

The entrance to the gaudy pink building dinged as the automatic doors opened.

"Morning Dennis" you smiled as he walked through the opened doors. He scrunched his face as if he didn't recognize you. You had only run into him once or twice since you started last week, so you weren't surprised he didn't remember.

"How did you..?" He looked a mix of tired and confused as he stood between the doorway.

Your head tilted and gave him a look, before tapping the name plate on your chest. Dennis followed your finger, your badge sat perched on your left breast. You shifted on your feet as his eyes lingered on your nameplate longer than you would've liked.

"Hadn't had your coffee yet I see" you joked. Quickly Dennis shifted his eyes away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Yeah" Dennis chuckled dryly.

"Well, there is a fresh pot in the back last time I checked and a few donuts. I think Richard brought some in. If you hurry you might be able to snatch one up." You brushed off his awkwardness.

Maybe he isn't a morning person.

You could see Dennis on the verge of reply, but your attention diverted to the customer walking to your open lane. "How was your shopping today? Do you have a Betsy card?" You read off your script as they laid their items down. In the corner of your eye you watched him linger a bit, before continuing on toward the back to clock in.

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3:00 P.M.

Dennis grumbled with hands on hips as he looked at the disarray of the printer cartage wall. He had organized and reorganized the entire aisle at least five times today. He had only been gone five minutes only to return to chaos.

Quickly taking inventory with his clipboard he made notes of what he needed before storming off to the storage room. Through his irritation he found it hard to stay mad as thoughts of you clouded his head while he walked.

The tiny interaction from earlier in the day had haunted him. Trying in vein Dennis tried his hardest to focus on anything else, but the more he fought it the more you seemed to just pop up. He found his eyes locking with yours in-between various interactions with customers as you cut through his section to get to the break room. Each time you fluttered your fingers and smiled at him, leaving him flustered, returning the smile more stiff and awkward than the time before.

Opening the door to the storage room Dennis's heart skipped a beat when he found you bent over examining a shelf. You hadn't noticed him yet, too focused on the numbers on the paper you held in search of an item.

Swallowing thickly Dennis gingerly closed the door quietly in an effort not to spook you. His cock twitched slightly the longer he stood against the door. When you moaned in frustration after you placed an item back on the shelf a heat rippled through his face forcing him to bite back a groan of his own.

Staying quiet, he released the knob and started to move closer to you. Each step Dennis felt his heart beat through his ears as your hips swayed before him.

The narrow aisle forced Dennis to squeeze past you to reach his desired destination. Sucking in his bottom lip hungrily he pushed his hips forward as he slid behind, the slight graze made you jump up and yelp in surprise.

"Oh gosh Dennis you scared me!" You giggled slightly embarrassed. You placed a hand over your chest and the other on his shoulder.

"Sorry" looking sincerely at you as he held his hands up innocently. "Just trying to reach the ink." Hoping to take the focus away from his bottom half. The light graze was enough to awaken that piece of him that he had long sense gave up on.

"It's OK. It's super tight back here. Kind of hard not to knock into someone." You brushed of your shock and turn back to your task. With your back to him again adjusted himself awkwardly.

"Hey, wait!" Your call froze him in his tracks.

Dennis's back tensed and a panic shot through his core as he heard your steps approach. His work pants had become uncomfortably tighter all thanks to you.

Slyly he pressed his clip board over his buckle when you rounded his side. Internally Dennis prayed that you wouldn't notice the throbbing erection below his belt.

"Can you help me I can’t find this." You were still focused on the paper you held, pushing it in his line of sight as you waited for him to respond. You were so close that your perfume tickled his nose and he wondered if you tasted just as sweet as you smelled.

Dennis's lips deepened into a frown when Richard, the floor manager, called your name from the now open storage door.

"We need you back on registers. Let me handle that for now." Richard demanded.

"Oh OK" turning away from him you handed the papers to Richard as he approached. "Thanks anyway Dennis" you patted Dennis's back before walking off. The sudden lack of touch sent an ache to his heart as he watched you disappear through the door.

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5:30 P.M.

The rain came down hard. You hadn't check the weather, when you left your apartment earlier in the day the sky was clear. Without an umbrella you made a mad dash to your car on the far end of the lot. Panting wildly, by the time your reached the car you were soaked through and through.

Slipping in you shrieked when the white flash crashed too close to your car. Fumbling with your keys before sticking them in the ignition you quickly found disappointment. The engine wouldn't turn over. It took several clicks of the turning key, before you stared baffled at the wheel. You had never had issues with your car before, so you were at a loss as to what could be the cause.

A bashing came loud on your side that caused you to scream in fright. Your heart beat rapidly, but when you looked over you found Dennis standing outside your door holding his umbrella.

"You OK?" He queried as you manually rolled your window down.

"It won't start. I think its the battery?" You weren't sure, but it sounded plausible.

"I would give you a jump, but it's a little dangerous. I can give you a ride though." He shouted over the heavy rain.

"Oh gosh, are you sure?"

"Yeah, come on."

Unbuckling your seat Dennis held the door open for you as you got out. You stuck close to his side, huddling under his umbrella as he led you to his car.

Opening the passenger door you thanked Dennis then slipped inside. He closed the door than jogged over to the driver's side, you giggled at his awkward stride and wondered if there was any part of him that wasn't weird.

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Through his peripheral Dennis watched you. Your perfume seemed to waft through his tiny Toyota and he hoped that it would sink into the upholstery.

"It's over there, just turn right on the corner" you directed him. He nodded at your direction. Suddenly sad that the ride was coming to an end sooner than he would've liked.

"You can slow down here. Mine is the one in the middle."

Dennis slowed to park as you gathered your things and readied to disembark. "Um uh I know this is weird, but do you think I can.. use your restroom?" It came out bumbled and he internally kicked himself for that.

"Oh gosh yes of course." You touched his arm as you spoke, the patch of skin sending jolts all throughout.

Dennis exited the car first as you waited patiently for him to shelter you from the rain.

You thank him again as you both jogged to your front door. With your keys at the ready you unlocked the door and allowed him in after you. "First door on your right" you point down the hall as you slipped out of your work shoes.

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8:00 P.M.

Dennis didn't move.

"So how is married life?" You nervously inquired, noticing the gold band on his finger.

He didn't answer and the look on his face started to fill you with concern.

He is just an awkward guy. Don't over think it.

"Um would you like something to drink" you made a move to walk toward the kitchen, but Dennis blocked your advance. Stepping a foot back you started to panic. "So h-how do you like working at.."

Before you could finish Dennis sandwiched you between the door. Fruitlessly you tried to wiggle free as his hands began to roam your sides. Pushing at his chest he stood unmoved by your efforts as he leaned in close to your cheek, peppering you with kisses along your neck.

"Please Dennis.." You trembled out. Dennis wedged between your legs, the feel of his hard cock had you hiccuping as you pleaded with him to stop.

The muscles in your arm burned as you push, your hands flailing and slipping off his wet clothes. He inhaled you, humming with delight as his stubble burned against your neck.

Tears coated your eyes as he began feverishly unbuckling your belt. Your nails clawed into his flesh to no effect, tossing your hands away effortlessly as he continued to maneuver your pants down past your hips.

It was if the mild mannered retail clerk had become a completely different person and you couldn't understand why.

"I see the way you look at me" he growled into your ear.

"I was just being nice. Please Dennis!"

"So nice for me baby" he kissed your cheek as you turned your face away from him. Through the kerfuffle you hadn't realized you both had moved away from the door. Your side hit the arm of the living room's couch and you found yourself tumbling over with Dennis landing on top of you.

Dennis snatched one of your wrist when you tried to slap him. Threading his fingers with yours like a lover, slowly moving it above your head. Your other hand tried to force him to fall over to the floor, but he refused to budge.

His other arm disappeared between your bodies, the further it sunk down your stomach tensed. You were useless against his determination. There was no out from under him.

Dennis swallowed your sobs, when his hand came dangerously close to your clit. Hot beads of tears streamed your face when he grazed your mound. The tickle of his finger tips meticulously played with your folds, in an attempt to move away his fingers parted your lips. Sucking and kissing on your neck, you felt a fire begin to pool at his hand.

"You don't want to do this please" you sniffed, but he was too far gone. A long moan fell from your lips when his fingers finally plunged into you.

Dennis's digits curled and pumped, the friction feeding an unwanted need in your core. When you tried to protest again he devoured your mouth greedily.

"I'm gonna fill you up...Have you stuffed full of my cum." Dennis moaned over your mouth.

Your toes started to curl as your heat grew. You wanted him to stop, but a need weakened your resolve.

"That's it baby, I feel you want me too."

"Fuck" you panted out as you struggled to fight against him and yourself. Your juices coated him thoroughly, you bit back shame as he praised you for it. Mindlessly you gripped his shoulder as your mounded tightened around him. Panting wildly you came on his fingers.

"That's it baby." He praised, slipping his fingers free which caused you to whimper shamefully. Your legs felt like jelly as you laid on the couch. Dennis hadn't moved, only lifting his hips to unfastened his belt.

"No! No no please" you whined, pushing backwards on the couch cushion. Dennis snaked an arm behind your back, locking you in place as you pulled at his work shirt to get him off you.

The head of his cock swirled around your juices, pressing hard against your folds to blindly find your opening. "So wet just for me baby."

No matter which way your hips move the determined man found your slick folds. Wedged between your legs Dennis shuttered with delight as he pressed into you. His slow pressure stretched you as you continued to sob.

"So tight for me" he hummed. You hissed the deeper he sunk into you. Breathing heavily through the tightness while his hips rolled into you. The cheap couch groaned at the increase of activity. Dennis palmed your ass, gripping too tight as he fucked you into the couch.

His desperate kisses all over you felt like trails of fire. Your legs began to wrap and tighten around him as he thrusted relentlessly.

"Dennis.." You panted out as your need took over.

"Do you want to come for me?" he sounded as needy as you did.

"I haven't come in so long... Do you think you can handle it baby?" He taunted.

"Please" you say weakly.

"That's it I knew you needed me"

"Please Dennis." You begged as you dissolved into pleasure.

You were his new life he was sure of it. His cure and he was never letting you go.

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#Dark Dennis x Black Reader #Dark Dennis x Black!Reader #Dark!Dennis x Black!Reader #Dark!Dennis x Black Reader #Dark Dennis x Reader #Dark!Dennis x Reader #Black Writer

496 notes · View notes

jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA

It's curious.

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is.

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos.

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

And yes, you tried to slip by for this one.

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye.

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?"

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but—

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut.

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit."

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?"

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information.

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.”

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.”

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting.

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.”

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height.

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces.

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed."

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder.

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well.

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me."

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts.

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this?

This is too good.

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions."

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that."

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride.

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest.

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you."

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left.

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet.

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss.

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this.

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything.

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin.

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water.

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this?

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—”

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name.

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.”

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it.

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.”

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones.

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate.

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part.

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.”

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.”

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away.

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit.

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly—

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands.

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here.

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.”

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him.

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.”

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages.

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin.

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever.

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

#we out here #yeehaw #my writing #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #ct-7567 #captai rex #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sw

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